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after-witch · 6 months

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Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Reader]

Title: Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo x Reader[

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru follows you home. ‘Alone in the Dark’ follow-up.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, noncon sex, humiliation, misogyny against reader

No one in your family, no one on the spacious estate--from the rotating guests down to the most menial of servants--believes that you are truly ill. Yes, your family let you return home without too many questions, let you bundle yourself in your room and come out only for meals that you leave as soon as it’s polite to do so. They offer to fetch the physician, and only smile indulgently when you insist that it’s a passing bug, you’ll be fine soon.

They do all these things, while they know that you’re not really unwell.

At least they grant you the mercy of not saying it out loud, at least for now, which is something you can appreciate. There is very little that you appreciate nowadays.

There is a soft knock at the door. One of the maids, then. They were trained to knock politely.

“Yes?”

The door gently opens to reveal one of the newer hires. A modest girl with the ability to act demure and professional just as well as any of the seasoned women who were multi-generational hires, whose mothers-and-grandmothers-and-great-grandmothers had worked for your family.

“Miss, my lord and lady have sent me to inform you that you have a caller.”

You clear your throat.

“Ah, unfortunately, I’m not feeling very--”

It was her turn to clear her throat, interrupting you. It almost made you flinch. It was an unusual gesture, not one your parents would have allowed. It should have been trained out by now.

“My lord and lady have sent me with explicit instructions that you are to come to the parlor immediately, even if you are unwell.”

You bite back a sigh. It must have been someone from one of the other families, then. Maybe throwing out another potential marriage match for you--your mother had fretted, especially recently, that you should have already been married by now.

The thought of sitting in that damned parlor and pretending like you weren’t constantly about to throw up from stress and shock made you want to tear your hair out. You should tell the maid to go away, and bury yourself under your blankets, and scream and scream because Gojo Satoru made you do something awful and the world was unfair and you thought he was your friend and--

No.

People like you didn’t have that luxury. So you force down your bile and half-heartedly make yourself presentable in the mirror, and follow the maid who escorts you down the hallway, out of the intimate private family rooms and into the grand hall that leads down to the parlor.

She stops you before you reach the threshold of the open door, and you almost trip on your dainty house shoes. The maid looks back at you with an expression that is something in between demure and overwhelmed. The skin of her cheeks flushes pink. She leans in, as if you were friends, and whispers,

“Miss, it’s--it is Gojo Satoru who has called on you.”

The world seems to drop out entirely. Yet you only feel as if you are falling as you stand there, hand braced against the door frame, head spinning. All the while, the maid grins, unawares, no doubt impressed that her employer’s daughter has associations with someone so well-known.

Sound pushes and pulls around you, distorting in your shock, but it’s there, clear as day: his voice. And your parents’ voices, all elegant and honeyed.

From your vantage point against the door frame, you can hear the trickling edges of their conversation.

“They were smart enough to ask me for some tips, and, well, how could I say no?”

Your mother’s voice oohs-and-ahhs. “No wonder we have seen improvement with them lately. All thanks to your generous tutelage, no doubt!”

You can practically hear the grin in Gojo’s voice.

“Well, it certainly helps that I like their company so much. Very much, in fact.”

You can vividly imagine the look that your parents have probably just given one another even before you cross the threshold of the door and announce yourself, curtsying slightly to your parents, as you’ve been brought up to do.

Gojo stands when you enter. Oh, the fucker. All etiquette and primness. Your stomach churns. If he wasn’t buttering them up, if he was anywhere else, if he wasn’t doing this to mock you, he wouldn’t be standing with his hands behind his back and a polite smile on his face. He’d be picking at his ear or lounging on the fine upholstery like it was some ratty college couch.

Your mother is fluttering towards you in an instant, smoothing down the wrinkled bits of your clothing, fingers darting over your face, looking for blemishes, scratches, anything that needs to be hidden or fixed.

When she’s satisfied, she lightly clasps your hand and leads you over to where Gojo and your father are standing. Your father greets you with a warm nod--unusual for him, but there is company, after all--and Gojo. Well.

Gojo smiles. Softly. You think, if he had his way, he’d be grinning like a cat that caught the canary. But that would be too much, in front of your parents. Too uncouth. So instead, he smiles lightly and sweetly and it makes you want to bend over and expel breakfast on your mother’s expensive rug.

“I’m happy to see you’re up and about,” he says. And then he reaches out and touches your shoulder. You stiffen.

You look to your parents--surely this is improper, surely they will say something--but your mother only presses her hand delicately to her lips and smiles.

Your head turns, slowly, back to Gojo. His smile widens.

“Don’t worry. I’ve told them about our private courtship. We don’t have to hide it anymore.”

The world should fall out from underneath you, but it stays stubbornly flat.

Your lips open and you will say something to make him leave, you’ll tell your parents what he did or feign illness or--

His hands move to rest on your hips, and--you jolt. Fingers dig into the skin of your hips through your clothing. A painful pinch that tells you: hush.

“I think it’s appropriate for them to have a bit of privacy, don’t you?” Your mother asks coyly, looking at your father. He nods solemnly and takes your mother’s arm. You have never, in your life, wanted your parents to stay with you more than you do now.

But they walk away. As your mother shuts the door, she gives you something most rare: a look of approval. How can she not notice the widened worry in your eyes? The anxiety in your expression? The mere presence of Gojo Satoru shuts out everything but his golden glow, the promise of his connection with your family.

The sound of the door shutting is like nails on a chalkboard.

You take the opportunity to jerk yourself away from him--to your surprise, he lets you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs easily.

“You weren’t around, so I came to you.”

You hate the way he looks too casual. As if you’d ghosted him after a bad study session and not--not….

“Of course I wasn’t around,” you say, almost spitting. “You…” But you don’t say it. Shame washes over you, hot and sticky.

The silence between you is just as warm, and you want to wash it off.

“Let’s go to your room for more privacy,” he offers.

“No.” Flat refusal is the only thing you can think to do now. Just say no, no, no, until he gives up and leaves.

Instead of leaving, he sighs, languid, and stretches his arms above his head. “Ah, your parents will be so disappointed that I left so early, after all that I talked you up.”

You hate him so much.

“C’mon,” he wheedles, when you don’t respond. “I just want to see where you grew up. Is that so bad?’

Show him your bedroom, make him leave. You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s nothing special. Just a room,” you mumble.

“Don’t say that!” Gojo reaches for you and ignores your flinch when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “It’s your room, of course it’s special.”

Your stomach responds to his praise with a low roil, a remnant of how you might have responded to his compliments before all of this.

“There,” you say, voice tight and short, as you gesture towards your bedroom. You pointedly leave the door open but Gojo doesn’t protest.

It’s not the most impressive bedroom on the estate--that would be your parents’ room, followed by the siblings who managed successful sorcerer careers and have already had a few children.

But it’s cozy, and it's yours, and for you that’s enough. You just wish Gojo wouldn’t contaminate it with his presence. He looks at everything, smiling, humming. He goes to read a journal open on your dresser and you rush to slam it shut. He jumps back with an exaggerated grin and apologizes.

He doesn’t look and leave, like you hoped he would. Instead, he sits down on your bed and pats the space next to him.

“You said you just wanted to look.”

He pats the spot again. “I just want to ask about your training. Really quick.” The look you give him must be enough to kill, because he puts his hands in the air. “I promise, only a few questions about your training.”

Your legs tingle as you force them to move, one step at a time, to the bed. You sit next to him and the proximity makes you want to flee. But if you just do what he says and get this over with, he’ll leave. You can deal with your parents’ expectations about some courtship later.

He smiles when you sit.

“So, any progress? Better? Worse?” He looks down at you through his glasses. “Be honest.”

“I… I guess I have been getting better at concentrating,” you murmur. You’ve been forced to, really, since you didn’t want your parents to know about what happened.

“Aw, see? I knew it would help!”

It. Is that what he calls what he did to you? Your throat hurts.

“That’s not why you did it.”

Gojo has the audacity to quirk his head at you. It’s a gesture you know would make many women’s heart flutters. It just makes you want to close your eyes.

“No?”

You don’t respond, and after a moment, he gets up. It’s enough to make you sigh in relief. He’s leaving. He’ll be gone and you can figure out what to tell your parents and it will all be fine because--

But he doesn’t walk through the door.

Instead, he shuts it.

“Gojo--”

He gives you a look.

“No one will mind,” he tells you, voice light. “I’ll be quiet if you will.”

Your heart thuds, one, two, three.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you as if you’ve asked him the stupidest question in the world. Maybe you did. Because he’s walking towards the bed now, forcing you to scoot backwards on it. You realize the vulnerability of your body in this position far too late, because before you know it, he’s crawling onto the bed with you.

“Wait--wait,” you sputter. “C-Can’t you just leave? Please?”

He leans over you and pins you down with the mere presence of his body.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” He kisses your neck, and you crane it to the side, which only makes him kiss it more. “So cute. I’ve been thinking about you every day since then. Every hour. Every minute.” His kisses grow more numerous, on your shoulder, up your neck, your cheek, finally resting just above your lips.

“Gojo, stop.” He’s so close that your breath ghosts his skin, puffs against his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about the faces you made,” he says, voice dropping an octave. The words slink out of him like a snake. “How sweaty you got. What you looked like with your come all over that pretty face.”

If your cheeks get any hotter, you’ll get ill. You know it.

“Stop it,” you whisper, but your lips brush against his and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a kiss.

The distraction is enough to keep you from thinking about his hands, to keep you from being aware of his fingers unlacing the buttons of your blouse, of how he slides your arms out of the sleeves. You’re only wearing a thin morning camisole underneath, and the sound of it shredding breaks through the unwanted kiss.

“Gojo--” You say, or want to say, but all your words are muffled against him.

Saliva trails from his mouth--you want to gag--when he pulls away. “Satoru,” is all he says.

He’s taken off your shirt. He’s ripped your undershirt. You’re lying underneath him, ample chest bared, and he’s not going to get off you.

His fingers find your nipples and give them an unceremonious tweak.

“Don’t!”The word comes out too loud, too shrieky, and both of you still in the silence that follows.

You expect him to get off you now. You expect him to realize the danger of being found out and take the opportunity to leave; ego bruised, perhaps, but still--he would be gone.

Instead, he grins at you. “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to come in and see us? Ah, but…” He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, and you jerk on the bed at the strange, electric feeling that shoots in between your legs. “Maybe you want to get caught?”

You press your lips firmly together--be quiet, you tell yourself, be quiet!--and shake your head.

He continues to roll your nipples, and your hips squirm against the feeling. “I think you do,” he muses. “You know, if someone did waltz in here while I’m balls deep in you, we’d have to get married.”

You practically choke on the unexpected sliminess of his words. But perhaps not so unexpected, considering what he was doing.

“Wh--What?” You hiss.

Gojo looks at you like you’re dumb--cute. But dumb. “I mean, your family is traditional, no? I don’t think they’ll let me deflower you and not make an honest woman out of you after that.” He spreads his fingers out and gropes the plump flesh of your breasts with his hands; his palms brushing against your hardening nipples makes you bite back a sigh.

“I mean--I meant--we’re not doing, I don’t want to do--”

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. I like foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” You ask, helplessly, naively.

“Fuck, that’s cute,” he sighs. He begins to rub at your nipples with his thumbs, and there’s a warm, prickling sensation in them that makes your toes begin to curl. “You know how many times I jerked off thinking about these tits?”

“Stop,” you say, breathy. It feels good, and you hate it, but it doesn’t hurt--it doesn’t hurt, at least. That’s what you tell yourself to keep your mouth from screaming.

He ignores your words and squishes your breasts together with his hand, making them balloon almost comically.

“They’re so big, you know?” He pushes and pulls them apart. “How do you even stand up with these things?”

Humiliation blooms in your throat.

“Don’t be mad,” he says. “I’m not trying to insult them.” He sighs, then, and goes back to rubbing your nipples with his fingers, eliciting a whimper from your lips. “They’re gorgeous. Nice and big…”

Another whimper, this one louder, making you press your palm against your mouth.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans down, peering over his glasses. “Feels good when my fingers play with your tits?”

It does. You shake your head. But it does.

Gojo tsks lightly. You feel one hand leave your breast and reach down, down--sliding underneath the waistband of your skirt. Your body lurches but he’s too heavy and strong and you can’t move, even as he swipes his fingers down your underwear. You can feel the way his digits meet some slickness, smearing it around on the other side of the fabric.

“Your mouth can lie, but down here… you’re leaking.”

Your heart lurches with the memory of your leaking cursed energy, with the memory of the hard floor--and with the knowledge that it’s happening again.

Without fanfare, he grabs the waistband of your skirt and begins to shimmy it down. You kick and struggle, little noises escaping your lips that surely aren’t loud enough to be heard outside the walls. But it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger than you.

Your underwear goes down next, and you cringe at the feeling of wetness clinging to the soft material as he peels them down your legs. With your clothes gone, it’s easy for him to grip your upper thighs and pull them apart, exposing you directly to him.

“Gojo--” Your throat is dry and your words hoarse.

“Your pussy is prettier than I remember,” he says, ignoring your protests, ignoring the way your legs squirm. “Look--did your clit just twitch? Is it saying hello?” He smiles up at you, stupidly, and some part of you wonders if he really thinks you’ll laugh at what he’s saying. All you can do is swallow against rising bile.

“I was going to eat you out until you squealed first,” he begins, voice low. “But I don’t think I can wait. Besides, you look wet enough.” He rubs his thumb against your clit and you slap your hand back against your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

You know what he’s doing, even if you don’t want to admit it. You know before he reaches down and shoves his pants down around his ankles. You know before his boxers come down next. You know before you see his cock, hard like the last time.

How in the world is that going to fit inside you? You think. You feel, dimly, your privates clench and twitch at nothing.

“Your body is eager,” he tells you, cooing. “Even if you pretend that you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you murmur. He doesn’t listen. Your fingers grip the sheets of your body and you think dimly about what you’ve heard about sex. All you know is that you weren’t supposed to have it with anyone but your husband, lest you produce unwanted bastards to soil your family’s good name. Your mother had taught you all about the value of your “flower,” the importance of being chaste and virtuous.

And here you are, splayed on your bed, with Gojo about to take it all away from you.

You let out a whimper when he leans forward and rubs the tip of his cock in your folds. It’s thick and warm.

“Gojo,” you say, voice tight.

“Satoru,” he chides, sweetly. “I’m about to fuck you, honey, you can call me Satoru.”

You press your lips together and tighten your fingers on the sheets as he finally moves his hips forward, pressing his cock inside you, slowly.

It hurts. Enough that tears prick at the edges of your eyes, and you let out a soft, pained keen.

Gojo’s there, kissing you, as soon as it leaves your lips. His fingers brush away your tears even as he pushes forward, filling you up more, stretching you. The ache deepens, there’s a sting with it--you wonder if you’ll bleed, like your sister says she did, on her wedding night.

It doesn’t stop once he’s inside you. He pulls his hips back--there’s a brief relief from the feeling when he’s mostly out--before he pushes back in, and the ache reignites, making you jolt and whimper against his lips.

“Shh,” he tells you. One of his hands trails down your stomach, down your thigh, to rest against the top of your sex. His thumb begins to rub out slow circles, and an unwanted aching pleasure begins to build there.

It doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t make the humiliation go away. All it does is introduce a sick sort of pleasure that makes you feel worse about yourself. How could you like this? It should be impossible, for your body to begin to feel a low, rolling pleasure that cuts through the pain–cuts through the horror–of what’s happening to you.

You whimper, bubbling out a little cry, and Gojo presses sweet kisses to your cheeks.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, you like that, don’t you?” The sweetness of his words is underscored by the wet sound of his cock thrusting inside you, by a faint slapping sensation against you every time he does.

But you do like it. Or your body does, and you’re not sure what the difference is, splayed on your bed, all warmth and sweat and aches. Gojo’s thumb presses deeper and your mouth opens–you gasp and he swallows your noises in a kiss, not letting up until his thumb is rubbing hard enough that your body arches and there’s a coil snapping inside you.

You grunt, animal-like, into his mouth. He grunts right back and shame curls over you, even as your body spasms in forced bliss. You can feel yourself clenching around him, as if you wanted him, as if you were trying to make the sex better for him.

He doesn’t pull away until you’re done clenching around him, and you shut your eyes for a moment to avoid looking at the almost dopey, pleased expression on his face.

The realizations hit you like slaps in the wake of your orgasm.

He made you orgasm. It felt good. You liked it, you hated it. You want more, you never want it again.

You just lost your virginity--still losing it, he’s not done–the precious commodity that your mother told you to guard well--on your bed. Before marriage. Before you were even in love. Before anything.

How could it be any other way, with Gojo Satoru? He takes, takes, takes. Takes what he wants because he can, because he knows it belongs to him, if he wants it. You, included.

There’s a gentle pat on your cheek and you realize Gojo is patting you, tapping you like he might a dazed sorcerer whose head met the rough end of concrete during a fight.

“Don’t get lost on me, now. Look at me… hey, you still here?”

“Yes,” you whisper, although it comes out more stuttered than you’d like with the shake of your body as he thrusts.

He plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth and moves faster. It hurts, still, but some of the more pressing sting is gone. Instead it’s an uncomfortable, new ache.

“You look so good like this, y’know?” His hands go from your cheeks to your breasts, and he squeezes them. “All ready to be filled up.”

His words take a moment to make any sense--and even then, you’re still not quite sure.

“Fill me… up?”

His thrusts get faster, and you hear your own breath stuttering stupidly as he fucks you. “Like I said--” His words are half-panting, but you get the feeling that they needn’t be; he only wants to seem undone, you think. “Want to fuck you. Want to breed you.” His hands squeeze your breasts, kneading at the flesh. “You’ll get real big, won’t you? With a baby in your stomach, just one at first, but--” He starts to speed up now, and you see a faint redness on his cheeks. “Fuck, who knows how many we’ll have.”

Cold fear clenches your stomach tight, and you resist the primal urge to gag.

“My-my parents,” you plead. Your parents would never let this happen, would they? Not if you told them the truth?

Gojo leans above you, looking down at you with a lascivious expression as he begins to thrust faster, making your breasts wobble with the motion.

“Your parents already approve. They feel honored, and they should, that I want to marry you. Have kids with you. Merge our bloodlines. Might have to fudge the due date, if this takes, but…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, his head veers down towards yours, and his lips practically crash into your mouth as he kisses you and presses himself deep inside you. He groans into your mouth and a warm, gooey feeling blossoms inside you at the same time. He came–inside you. You knew enough to know that was a bad thing, as far as potential pregnancies went.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he pulls back his hips, and something warm trickles out with his cock. It’s an awful feeling. The soreness, the wetness. The feeling of being used.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, voice tinged with something warm and breathy. “Did you like that? Making me come?”

You don’t answer.

Gojo doesn’t seem to mind. He flops down next to you and catches his breath.

“We should go back out there pretty soon,” he says airily. “They’ll be expecting us. Your parents, that is.”

Your voice is a croak. “What do you mean?”

Gojo leans up on his elbows and gives you a cheeky grin. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I told your parents I was staying for dinner. Figured I’d work up an appetite in here… plus we can tell them all about our engagement over dessert. Two birds, one stone?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, with its ornamented paintings. Pretty flowers and trees that your mother picked out when you were a baby. You had no input in it, just like you have no say in anything now.

No birds on the ceiling.

There are only the stones in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be retched up.

#yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere jjk #yandere #afterwitch writes

2K notes · View notes

hier--soir · 10 months

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a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something?

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.”

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you.

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome.

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.

thank you for reading!! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #ALP

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everythingne · 6 months

Text

all american bitch -- ls2

After a successful concert in Miami, your twin sister is caught having a little moment with her boyfriend outside a club. Most people jump to conclusions, but you have a way to shut everyone up (and give half of the F1 community a heart attack in the process)

logan sargeant x singer!reader

warnings/notes: cheating allegations, cursing, so many sexual innuendos, sexual lyrics, terribly written lyrics should count as a warning... also I wrote this to celebrate logan 2024 <3

fc: gracie abrams

04 MAY, INSTAGRAM

urusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, sistersacc, and 450k others

urusername: miami!! u were ELECTRIC!! a great finish to the first leg of the tour. oh and thank u to both @ logansargeant and @ sistersacc for joining me in miami tn ahead of the gp <3

tagged: sistersacc, logansargeant, williamsracing

lilymhe: LAST PIC??

urusername: people keep sending logan text posts to me and its amazing

user1: girl explain what u were doing last night

user2: patiently waiting on her downfall fr

user3: MOTHER IS MOTHERING!!!

logansargeant: I LOVE YOU BITCH ASS

urusername: I LOVE YOU TOO FUCK HEAD !!! 💙💙

williamsracing: y/n. ur electric.

urusername: im leaving logan for u williams admin

logansargeant: dude what the fuck :(

user4: so we're gonna act like no one saw her cheating?

sistersacc: AAAA SO MUCH FUN THANKS FOR LETTING ME MAKE U MAD <333

alexalbon: thank u again for inviting me and lily i cannot express the joy of finally meeting the woman logan never shuts up about

user7: not everyone jumping to conclusions jfc

logansargeant made a new post

logansargeant: thank u williams for the incredible season and for trusting this american guy and taking a chance on me. thank u @ urusername for being my rock. see u all next yr 💙

USER HAS LIMITED COMMENTS ON THIS POST.

urusername: so so so proud of u baby <3 u did incredible

logansargeant: thank u <3

alexalbon: see u in a few weeks

oscarpiastri: great job man u did amazing

EXTRATV made a new post!

liked by 456k others...

extratv: While rumors are spiraling of potential cheating allegations against Y/n L/n, she was spotted with Taylor Swift at a local park in Miami after day two of her residency in the Kaseya Center. Has the checkered flag waved for the American 'It Couple' of F1?

user1: bro its so over for us.

user2: NOOO Y/N SARGEANT PLS </3

user3: people see taylor and think its an immediate break up. taylor literally helped y/n start music bc their moms are besties idk what y'all are on.

user4: reputation era real

"Do you see this shit?" You turn to look at Logan behind you, who currently has his face smushed into what was previously your pillow as he attempts to recover sleep from his season of traveling just about everywhere. You would be in the same boat as him if you weren't being hounded over doing your skincare and such everyday for tour. Because of that hounding, you had to take off all the makeup you had put on for dinner as soon as you got home. The dinner was with all your family and friends to celebrate the end of a season and the end of the first leg of your tour.

"No?" Logan blinks open his eyes and you cross the room from your shared bathroom, he lifts the blanket so you can slide in next to him in the bed as the fleeting Florida sun nips warmth into your skin before his warmth envelops you in the comfortable blankets you have across the bed as the fan above rotates on high.

You flip your phone, showing him the pictures of your sister people were using to say you cheated on Logan.

"Oh be so serious." He groans into your side as he looks at the photos, arm draped lazily over you before he plucks the device out of your hands and drags you fully under the blankets with them.

"Don't worry," He murmurs, sleep in his voice, "It'll blow over if we just ignore it."

"Logan they're trying to cancel me on Twitter." You deadpan, rolling into his embrace and snuggling against him.

"Write a song about it like everyone thinks you're doing with Taylor, play it on tour or something.'' He mumbles into the skin of your neck before giving you a soft kiss.

You hate how enticing the idea is.

"You're gonna have to review the lyrics before I post it, because I might make it absolutely filthy." You warn and Logan's eyes widen as he perks up from where he's cuddled into your side.

"Oh please, please, do." His little shit eating grin makes you burst into laughter as you nod, pulling out your notebook from your bedside table and a pen as Logan adjusts so he can watch you scribble down ideas.

urusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, and 215k others...

urusername: im so sorry to @ williamsracing in advance. my new single miami burn comes out tmrw 💙

lilymhe: get em girl.

logansargeant: i apologize in advance to my pr team

williamsracing: logan please.

oscarpiastri: some times i wonder about u two. and then i hear about you and it makes me wish i never asked.

logansargeant: wow love u too man

landonorris: no i heard the demo im with oscar on this

arthurleclerc: prayers to ur pr team !

williamsracing: well now im scared.

#f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #logan sargeant x y/n #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant smau

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rubyreduji · 6 months

Text

The Christmas Boyfriend — yjh

summary: when you tell your mom the little white lie that you have a boyfriend, you don’t expect it to evolve into bringing your friend with benefits home for christmas. what can go wrong?

tags: fluff, smut (minors dni), fwb, fake dating, college!au warnings: ok the smut is likes less than 2k words of this fic tbh, conversations about birth control, mention of unsafe sex, explicit sex, oral, fingering, praise, cum eating, creampies wc: 12.7k an: guys im not used to writing jeonghan so if his characterization is off im so sorry fdsak anyways writing this made me want to go ice skating :((

“Sweetie! I’m so excited for you to come home for Christmas!” Your mom calls over the phone.

“Yeah Mom, me too,” you say with half sincerity.

“Oh and make sure you bring that cute boyfriend with you too! I want to meet him, you’ve told me almost nothing about him!”

You pause. Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Oh shit.

“Hey Mom?” It was the end of summer and you were about to go back to university.

“Yes sweetie?” Your mom was bustling around the kitchen getting ready for dinner.

“Do you think that I could go on birth control?” These worlds made your mother stop.

“Birth control? Why do you need to go on birth control? I know your cycle is normal, so who are you having sex with? Oh please don’t tell me you’re sleeping around,” your mom huffed exasperatedly.

“I’m not!” Technically you weren’t sleeping around. You were sleeping with one person, repeatedly. “I have a boyfriend Mom, and we use protection, but it would be nice to have an extra layer of protection.” It was…somewhat the truth. You tried to use protection but every once in a while you…didn’t. You’d taken a lot of Plan B lately.

“A boyfriend! Why didn’t you tell me? Tell me all about him!” The problem is…you didn’t have a boyfriend. You had a Jeonghan who periodically fucked you during the school year. You hadn’t seen him all summer but you knew that as soon as the school year started again you guys would start right back up.

“His name is Jeonghan, he’s studying business. We’ve been dating since the beginning of the year.”

“Oh tell me more! I want to know, please. I have to meet him immediately.”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the day making up half-lies about Jeonghan and convincing your mother to let you on birth control.

You honestly forgot you told your mom that lie, and now it’s coming back to bite you in the butt. You hadn’t brought him up to your mom since and now you either have to tell her you guys broke up or you have to convince Jeonghan to spend part of winter break with your family pretending to be your boyfriend. Knowing your mom, the latter will be easier.

“You told your mom WHAT?” You decide to tell Jeonghan after you guys finish having sex.

“I told her…that we’re dating.”

“Why?”

“You came inside me two minutes ago, you really wanna ask why? She would be so upset if she knew I was in a friends with benefits situation but if I tell her I have a boyfriend that I trust and care for, she’ll let me go on birth control.”

“Why did you have to ask her to go on birth control?” Jeonghan asks as you start to get dressed.

“I’m a college student Jeonghan, birth control isn’t free and if I ask my mom I can put it on her insurance. C’mon can you do this one thing for me? My mom is a great cook and it only has to be for a little bit, only one day really!”

“This really means that much to you?”

“Yes.” You’re practically making puppy dog eyes at him now.

“Well, you know, I just so happen to need somewhere to stay during winter break. So…I guess I’ll be staying with you and putting on the best show for your mom. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.”

You just grin at him.

“Sweetie! You’re home! Honey come here, our daughter is home!” Your mom runs out of the house to greet you, scooping you up into a hug. “Oh, oh, is this him?” She glances over your shoulder excitedly to where Jeonghan is standing behind you by the car.

“Mom, this is Jeonghan…my boyfriend.” You have to force the last bit out.

“Oh he’s so handsome! It’s nice to finally meet you Jeonghan, I’m so happy you’re joining us for the holidays.”

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you.” Jeonghan accepts your mom’s hug.

“Of course! You’ve been dating my daughter for almost a year now, anything you need we’ll be here.”

“Is that them?” A booming voice comes from the house. You look over to see your dad and brother standing on the porch.

“Honey, come meet Jeonghan! Look how handsome he is!”

You sigh, it’s already going to be a long four weeks.

“I’m…sorry about them,” you tell Jeonghan when you’re finally alone in your room, where your mother insisted Jeonghan stay with you. For someone who disapproves of casual sex, she sure does support ‘healthy love making between couples’. You don’t even want to think about her and your dad.

“I can’t say you didn’t warn me,” Jeonghan chuckles. “They all seem really nice though.”

“They’re…something,” you mutter. “I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed. Once again I’m really sorry about my mom.”

“It’s fine, I’m serious, stop stressing out. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes. “That reminds me. We have to lay down some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” Jeonghan cocks an eyebrow curiously, and a bit skeptical.

“Yes. I know it sounds silly and cliche, but really, we need to talk about it.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. We just have to pretend to be a couple, that’s not hard. Hugging, kissing, all that gooey stuff.”

“What if my parents ask about our relationship? Are you sure you’re okay being coupley with me all the time? I-”

“Babe,” Jeonghan starts, “stop worrying. You make it seem like you have zero faith in me. Trust me, I can be the best fake-boyfriend you’ll ever need.” You scrunch your nose up at him calling you ‘babe’ in a non-sexual setting, but you guess you’ll have to get used to it.

“Still…if you even want to back out, just tell me and we can make up some excuse for you having to leave or-”

Jeonghan cuts you off once more, “Stop worrying. It’s the holiday season, let’s have fun! If your parents ask about our relationship just leave it to me.”

You stare at Jeonghan unsure, all too familiar with his antics. You can tell Jeonghan is about to counter your look when all of a sudden your door is flung open.

“Mom said dinner is ready!” Your brother announces.

You admit defeat on having this conversation with Jeonghan, leading him downstairs to where everyone is taking their place around the dinner table. The table feels just slightly cramped with the addition of the chair added for Jeonghan squeezed in next to yours. The top of dinner is quiet besides a few “could you pass the salt” or “this tastes great Mom” thrown in. It isn’t until your dad is going in for seconds when your mom speaks up.

“So, Jeonghan, tell me about yourself. Pumpkin has barely told us anything about you.”

You internally groan at the childhood nickname your family still insists on using for you, and you hope it goes unnoticed by Jeonghan. Unfortunately, not much slips past him.

“Pumpkin?”

“A terrible nickname from when I was little,” you explain, slightly glaring at your mother.

“I think it’s cute.” You so desperately want to smack the smug look off Jeonghan’s face.

“It is cute,” your mom interjects. “It’s based on these adorable photos we took during her first fall. We did a photoshoot and put her in a pumpkin, it was just darling. Remind me later and I’ll pull out the photobooks.” Your mom winks at Jeonghan and you’re starting to realize just how big of a mistake this was. “Now, back to what I was saying. Tell me about yourself, Jeonghan.”

“Well there’s not much to say. I’m a business major, I enjoy sports and spending time with my friends.”

“He’s an amazing singer,” you jut in. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because Jeonghan is selling himself short. “He’s a part of the University’s choir. And he models for the fashion students.” You can see Jeonghan blush under your praise.

“Aw, that’s nice. And how did you two meet?”

“We met through a mutual friend, and then ended up having a class together the following semester. First time we met I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I’m just lucky she gave me the time of day.” Jeonghan makes a show of grabbing your hand in his, clasping them together on the table. Even though you know it’s for show, the display makes your stomach flip a bit.

You do take note that his story is true for the most part. At least the part about you two meeting and then sharing a class. You’re pretty sure the part about you being “the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen” is just fluff to appease your mom. It does the trick though, as your mom coos at Jeonghan’s words.

She continues to ask Jeonghan questions about himself and your relationship, and Jeonghan keeps delivering. He tells her stories about him attempting to flirt with you and you being too oblivious to realize. You roll your eyes the whole time, knowing what he’s actually talking about. The three weeks he spent continuously trying to hit on you before you finally agreed to go on a date with him.

Speaking of the date, Jeonghan also tells that story. In real life what happened with Jeonghan invited you over to watch a movie, you both got a little tipsy, and ended up fucking right on his couch. Neither of you asked for a second date, but did start to booty call each other, so that’s something. The way Jeonghan tells it to your mom is a lot more…wholesome.

“We went out to see a movie, her choice of course.” Lie, Jeonghan forced you to watch The Notebook. “Then afterwards I didn’t want the date to end so we got dessert and went back to my apartment. We spent the whole night talking before she eventually fell asleep on my couch. It was adorable.”

“Oh stop,” you mutter, trying your best to sound playful.

“It’s true. The way your nose twitches when you’re dreaming and the little huffs you let out. How can I find that as anything but the cutest thing ever?” Jeonghan then leans in and presses a quick kiss to your warm cheeks.

You’re aware you do those things in your sleep, it’s something you’ve done ever since you were little, but you weren’t aware that Jeonghan knew about them. Everytime you sleep over at Jeonghan’s, or he spends the night at yours, he always complains in the morning about how you elbowed him in your sleep all night.

“Oh you two are just so cute!” Your mom exclaims. She then turns to you, “How dare you keep him away from us for so long.”

Your brother is obviously doesn't care for the topic of conversation and excuses himself from the table. Your mom realizes that dinner is now officially over and she and your father start to clean up the table.

“Don’t go far, Jeonghan. I need to show you those baby pictures!”

“Noooo.” You tug on Jeonghan’s sleeve, like it might somehow convince him to go back upstairs with you, but of course not. Of course Jeonghan wants to see all of your baby photos.

You know this shouldn’t really bother you this much. Everyone has baby photos. The issue is you were an extremely unphotogenic baby. Your brother has maybe some of the cutest baby photos you’ve ever seen. Not you. You look like a gremlin, to the point your baby photos became a meme between you and your friends in high school.

Your mom makes a pot of coffee for all of you before she’s shuffling into the living room and pulling out the large fifty page photo album of you from newborn to age four. Jeonghan follows suit and you reluctantly take your place next to him on the couch.

The first few pages aren’t bad. They’re all photos of you still in the hospital when you were first being held by your mom and dad, swaddled in a cute little pink blanket that you know your mom has stored somewhere up in the attic.

The first bad photo doesn’t show up until a few pages in, after you were brought home. It’s a photo of you crying, your face all scrunched up in an ugly expression. You think it’s hideous but it’s one of your dad’s favorite baby photos of you. Jeonghan chuckles slightly and you shove him lightly.

Shortly after that the infamous pumpkin photo shows up. It’s you sitting in a pumpkin, a stupid, blank look on your face as you chew on the pumpkin. There’s a little orange beanie on your head that’s just a little too big for your head.

“Aww, look at that little pumpkin,” Jeonghan giggles.

“Shut up,” you grumble, glaring down at the picture.

Unfortunately for you, it only gets worse from there. There’s the photos from when you were two years old and constantly had messy hair and a stupid expression on your face. And then the photos of you at three when all you would do was pout at the camera. Then the photos from when you were four and somehow every photo was taken at just the wrong second.

Your mother and Jeonghan have a great time, cooing at each photo, your mother giving an anecdote every once in a while. It isn’t until near the end that Jeonghan finally looks over at you, on his other side. He smiles at the slight pout on your face.

“C’mon babe, stop pouting.” Jeonghan scoots closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. Even if it’s just for show, you can’t help but admit it is slightly comforting. Jeonghan then leans in and whispers to you. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You really are the cutest little baby. I mean that’s not a surprise, you’re still cute, aren’t you baby?”

Your face heats up at his words. You’re not sure why he’s laying it on so thick when you’re sure your mom can’t even hear him. You suddenly stand, trying to subtly get distance between you and your fake boyfriend.

“Well, it’s getting late and I’m tired after all of that traveling today. We’ll see you in the morning Mom.”

Jeonghan finally allows you to pull him back upstairs and into your room. You let out a deep sigh as soon as the door is closed and you move to start getting ready for bed.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asks you as he changes into his pajamas as well. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable or cross any boundaries did I?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you assure him. “You’re just doing what any boyfriend would, so keep it up, actually.”

“Okay…” Jeonghan says, the skepticism in his voice. You don’t say anything else though and Jeonghan drops it, thankfully.

You both crawl into bed and you try not to think about how you can feel his body so close to yours. As you close your eyes you can’t help but think you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the rest of the break.

“We’re going Christmas tree shopping today!” Your mom announces cheerfully when you and Jeonghan make your way downstairs for breakfast.

“You guys haven’t gotten a tree yet?” You ask.

“We were waiting for you,” your mom explains. “So we could go as a family and then decorate it together.”

After breakfast your whole family piles into your dad’s car and you take off to the Christmas tree lot. There’s Christmas music playing on the radio as you drive and you can hear Jeonghan softly sing along.

You’ve always liked Jeonghan’s voice. You find his high, light voice angelic and you could listen to him sing all the time. You tune out the chatter of your parents in favor of listening to Jeonghan the whole ride there. A part of you is glad that only you can hear him, taking this as a moment for yourself.

As soon as the car parks and you all climb out of the car, Jeonghan reaches over and grabs your hand in his. You look over at him to see him smiling at you and you smile back. There’s a bite in the air as you two walk through the trees and you appreciate the warmth of Jeonghan’s hand in yours.

“Oh, what a darling couple,” you hear an old couple whisper as they walk past you two.

“Hear that? We look darling together, darling” Jeonghan jokes after they’re out of earshot. You roll your eyes but there’s a smile on your face as you playfully knock your elbow into Jeonghan’s side.

You and Jeonghan continue to walk around, looking at trees, until your father finds you two to tell you that your bother found the perfect tree. Your brother is bouncing around when you three make your way to the tree and he looks at you and Jeonghan proudly.

“Good choice, little man,” you tell him.

“Yeah, looks like a great tree,” Jeonghan agrees, which makes your brother smile even more.

Your family is standing in line to pay for the tree when your mom gasps. You look over at her to see her giddy face as she points up. You glance up to see the sprig of mistletoe places directly over you and Jeonghan’s heads.

“Well look at that,” Jeonghan says amused. “It looks like we have to kiss. By the laws of Christmas of course.”

“By the laws of Christmas?”

“Of course. I don’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list,” Jeonghan teases you. You shake your head, smiling.

“If you say so.” You lean in and press a kiss to Jeonghan’s lips.

You’ve never actually kissed him outside of having sex, but it comes surprisingly natural to you. Jeonghan wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in closer for just a moment, before pulling away. The tip of his nose and ears are pink and there’s a slight twinkle in his eye and he grins at you.

“You have cooties now,” your little brother announces from beside you and you and Jeonghan both burst out laughing.

On the ride back home, your whole family sings along to the radio, and your mother compliments Jeonghan’s voice, which makes him flustered.

After you get back home, your dad and Jeonghan struggle to get the tree to fit through the door as you and your mom snicker at them. After they finally get it into the living room, you, Jeonghan, and your brother get to work decorating it. When your brother asks why your parents aren’t helping, your dad says he did all the work by paying for it.

The three of you (mostly you and Jeonghan) spend way too much time untangling lights before you string them up, finally allowing you to get to the good part. Your family’s ornaments are stored in a large plastic tub and you get to work digging through them. You’re not sure how many your family owns, but you’re sure it’s enough to cover three trees in whole. The tub isn’t organized in any way and you do your best to pick and choose which ones you think will make the best decorations.

Jeonghan kneels down beside you and starts to look through the tub as well.

“These ornaments are cute,” Jeonghan comments as he picks up a small stuffed animal snowman with a loop attached to it. He reaches over to place it on the tree.

“Yeah, it’s a part of my grandparents’ gift to us every year. An ornament for both of us.” You pick up a decoration with a family picture on it and you hang it up.

“You were so small in that one,” Jeonghan says, referencing the picture you just added to the tree.

You glance over the photo. You’re maybe five or six, way before your brother was born. You’re squished between your parents on a bench with Christmas lights behind you. You’re bundled up in a puffy winter jacket and a hat is squashed into your head. It’s a sweet photo.

“You know, this is all quite unfair,” you tell him. “You’re going to have to show me your childhood photos at some point now.”

“Now I don’t know if that was part of the deal.”

“Well we might just have to make it so. I’d love to see tiny little Hannie.”

“Maybe I could strike up a deal…”

You’re about to make a comment on Jeonghan’s sneaky ways, when you feel a tap on your leg. You look down to see your brother standing next to you with a sled shaped ornament in his hand.

“I need help putting this on the tree.”

“I got you buddy.” Jeonghan moves over to pick your brother up, lifting him up so your brother can place the ornament on the tree.

The moment is oddly sweet and when Jeonghan lets him down, he gives your brother a high five after. Jeonghan walks back over to the tub before picking up an ornament. After closer inspection you realize that it’s the ornament shaped like a little bunny with a fluffy cotton tail and a pink scarf. You quickly lunge forward and snatch it out of his hands.

“Aish!”

“Sorry!” You exclaim, holding onto the ornament. “But you can’t place this on the tree.”

“Why not?”

“Because…,” you hesitate, suddenly embarrassed.

“That’s her favorite, she has to place it on the tree every year. In its special spot,” you mom answers as she walks into the room, carrying a tray of cookies.

Jeonghan just chuckles before leaning in to wrap his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. You flush, trying not to think too much of it. It’s just because your mom is standing in the room. “That’s so cute. In its ‘special spot’?”

“Yes,” you mumble. You move out of Jeonghan’s grip to lift the ornament and place it at the top of the tree, right under where the star sits. The idea is more embarrassing now that Jeonghan is staring at you, the smug little grin on his face, but you can’t ignore tradition just because you know he’s going to make fun of you later.

“Are there any more special ornaments I should know about, darling?” Jeonghan asks and you smack him lightly, both for the comment and the teasing nickname he’s picked up.

“No. Decorate at your free will.”

Your brother is now more interested in the cookies your mom brought in, leaving you and Jeonghan to finish the tree off. It’s weighted down by all of the ornaments you’ve hung on it by the end. You reach down into the box to grab the tree topper.

“All that’s left is the star,” you announce.

“Jeonghan should put it on,” your mom suggests and you hold it out to him.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“We insist,” your mom tells him.

“C’mon Han, just do it, make her happy.” You nudge him a bit and Jeonghan finally takes it before reaching up on his tiptoes to place the star on top. You and your mom cheer and you can see the small smile on Jeonghan’s face.

With the finishing touch on the tree, you’re able to step back and look at your masterpiece.

“I think we did a pretty good job,” you say.

“I think we did the best job, and I should know. I’m a tree decorating veteran.” Jeonghan wraps an arm around your waist. You glance up at him, only to be surprised by him pecking you on the lips. You don’t even have time to react, the kiss smooth like you two do it all the time.

Jeonghan doesn’t bat an eye, turning back to stare at the tree. You feel your stomach flutter.

So here’s the thing. It’s not like you wouldn’t date Jeonghan, he’s a great guy, a close friend, but you two just never evolved into that part of your relationship. The issue when you’re hooking up with someone is that it’s intimate. You’ve spent the night at each other’s apartments, you share the same friends, you have strangely deep pillow talk with one another. It’s all under the same impression that you’re just friends with benefits, but now you’re here, in your childhood home, pretending to be a couple. The circumstances are completely different and now you don’t know how to feel.

All you know is that Jeonghan keeps kissing you with no sexual undertones under it, and maybe you like it a little too much.

When you wake up the next morning, Jeonghan is already awake on his phone. He looks over at you and snickers before turning his phone towards you. On his screen is a photo of you asleep, your mouth wide open and a bit of drool running down your cheek.

“Delete that!” You shout, suddenly wide awake. Jeonghan giggles as he stands up and runs out of the room. You chase after him, yelling at him, until you two make it to the kitchen.

“Well! You two are lively this morning,” your mom comments. She’s standing at the stove cooking breakfast with a fond grin on her face.

“Good morning!” Jeonghan says, a smug smile on his face as he slips his phone into his pocket. “That smells great. Do you need any help?” Jeonghan gestures to the plates sitting on the counter, waiting to be put out.

“Oh honey, no, no, you go sit. You’re a guest.”

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks and your mom nods.

“Of course. Pumpkin, you can help me.”

Jeonghan moves to the dining table while your mom moves closer to you, a giddy look on her face, as she hands you the plates.

“Pumpkin, you’ve really found yourself a keeper,” she whispers to you. “Jeonghan is such a sweet young man.”

“Uh, yeah mom, thanks,” you mutter.

It’s not like you don’t know Jeonghan’s a great guy, but the truth is you two aren’t dating. It’s not like you can tell your mom that, but you don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep up the lie after you two leave after break. It was easy when he was just a random name you threw out, but now your mom has actually met him, and he’s doing a little too well at charming her.

And maybe you too. It’s only been two days of pretending to fake date Jeonghan and somehow you’re already questioning your whole relationship with him. You don’t know if your heart will take fake dating him for any longer than you have to.

You and your mom head towards the table where Jeonghan sits next to your brother, looking invested in whatever your brother is talking about. You take your seat on the other side of Jeonghan as your mother sits across from you.

“So, any plans you two have for today?”

“Uhm, not at the moment,” you reply.

“You two should go ice skating! A new place opened downtown. I’m sure all the cute young couples are going there.”

You perk up at the idea. Ice skating has always been a fun winter tradition for you and now you have a reason to go. Right as the sun is starting to set, you and Jeonghan take off downtown. The city is dressed up in lights and it excites the child inside of you.

“Isn’t it pretty?” You ask Jeonghan as you walk down the street.

“Isn't what pretty?”

“The lights. Look at them. It really gets me in the Christmas mood,” you say.

“Oh, yeah. They do look nice. Oh, there’s the skating rink.”

The rink is large and already filled with several people from other couples to families to people just skating solo. There are lights surrounding the rink and you can hear Christmas music playing out of speakers nearby.

You and Jeonghan go and rent your skates before putting them on and heading towards the ice. You slide onto the rink first and then wait for Jeonghan to follow. You watch as he steps out on the ice and moves to push himself forward, only to fall directly on his ass.

You stifle a laugh before reaching down to help him up. As soon as he’s back up Jeonghan moves over to hold onto the wall.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m not very good at ice skating.”

You actually allow yourself to laugh out loud this time. “Why did you agree to come?”

“I don’t know, your mom seemed so excited about it and so did you.”

You smile before skating up to Jeonghan’s side. “That’s sweet of you Han, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t want to. We can just walk around downtown and look at the lights.”

“No, I want to do this,” Jeonghan states, determined.

“Okay, okay. At least let me help you out.” You move your hand to grasp Jeonghan’s and you start to move. Jeonghan gently lets go of the wall to follow you, his grip on your hand tight.

You skate effortlessly, trying not to giggle as Jeonghan does his best not to fall and pull you down with him. You’re skating much slower than you’re used to as Jeonghan clings to your arm.

“How are you so good at this,” Jeonghan whines as you two stop to take a break.

“Ice skating is a family tradition for me. Don’t worry, you look cute.” You reach up to straighten the fluffy hat on his head.

The moment feels oddly intimate, which is an interesting feeling considering you two have seen each other naked. It almost feels like you two are an actual couple, out on a cute Christmas-y date.

If you’re being honest, Christmas has always been your favorite holiday. You love the whole season and the feeling of family and joy and love. When you were little you always dreamed of having a great Christmas romance, and now you have it, it’s just…fake.

You look at Jeonghan to see the soft pink dusting his face and ears and you wonder if it’s because of the cold or if he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“Aww, you two are so cute.” The moment is broken and you look to the side to see an older couple skating up to you two. “Would you like us to take your photo?”

“Oh, um, sure!” You reply, pulling your phone out to hand to them. Your mom did tell you to take lots of photos.

You skate back over to Jeonghan and position yourself next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You two lean into each other, smiling at the camera. After that photo is taken you lean in to press a kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek.

The couple then returns your phone and bids you a goodbye. You flip through the photos and Jeonghan peeks over your shoulder at them.

“You should send those to me.”

You look at him curiously. In all the time you’ve known Jeonghan, you’ve never known him to care much about having photos of you two together, even as just friends, but you shoot them over to his number anyway. You then grab his hand again and continue to skate.

Even with Jeonghan’s poor skating skills, you two still have fun. The Christmas music sets the mood as you two skate around the rink and you can hear Jeonghan humming along as you skate. The moment is nice.

You two skate for about an hour before Jeonghan’s feet start to hurt and you two decide to put the skates up and pop into a nearby cafe to grab some hot chocolate before exploring downtown more. There is a tree put in the center of the plaza and you and Jeonghan take a few more photos to show your mom.

In the midst of hooking up with Jeonghan, sometimes it’s hard to remember you two are friends as well. You’re a bit glad for this whole fake dating thing, because it gives you a chance to hang out with Jeonghan in a non-sexual manner. It reminds you of how much you like Jeonghan as just a person and how you enjoy spending time with him. It’s really nice.

It’s late into the night when you two finally head back to your house. The lights are already all off and you and Jeonghan creep up to your room quietly, as to not wake up anyone else. You two quietly change into your pajamas before crawling into your bed.

There’s a slight chill in the room and you slide over to Jeonghan to try and get warmer. He accepts you into his arms and you two lay there in silence for a moment before he begins to speak.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about this at first, but I’ve been having a lot of fun. Your family’s great.”

“Yeah…they are. Thanks for doing this for me by the way.”

“I mean, it benefits me too, right,” Jeonghan chuckles.

Right. The reason you’re doing this in the first place: the birth control.

It’s weird to think about now that you’re here. Jeonghan has seemed to blend into your family so well, you nearly forgot the reason this started to begin with.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jeonghan asks.

“What? Oh yeah. I’m just…tired. I think I should try to sleep.”

“Yeah, okay…goodnight.”

When you wake up, Jeonghan is still asleep next to you, and you glance at the clock to see it’s strangely early. It’s then that you hear the tapping on your door and you stand up to crack it open. Your mom is standing on the other side of the door with a paper in her hand.

“Sweetie, sorry to wake you up, but I need you to do me a favor today.”

“What is it Mom? Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, nothing wrong, but I need you to go out and buy these things for me.” She passes you the list and you scan over it before shooting your mom a look.

“You haven’t gotten the presents yet?” You hiss. “Christmas is in like four days!”

“I know! Me and your father haven’t had time to go with your brother around. Please? Here’s my card.” She passes you her credit card. “You can pick up some gifts for yourself as well. Bring Jeonghan along, get lunch, make a day out of it. Please, Pumpkin?”

“Yeah, sure, Mom. I’ll get it all.”

“Thank you!” Your mom hugs you quickly before leaving. You sigh, staring down at the list. There’s quite a few things on it. The closer you look at it you realize there’s also gifts for your extended family and your father on it. You huff, you have your work cut out for you. At least your mom has marked what store you can find each item.

You walk over to the bed and shake Jeonghan until he wakes up.

“Wha’?”

“Come up, get up. We have a long day of shopping ahead of us and I want to beat the crowds.”

Jeonghan grumbles a bit more but rolls out of bed. You two get dressed before climbing into your car and heading towards the store. You stop at a coffee shop to get both of you take out cups and head to the first store.

Your brother’s Christmas list is mainly toys, which you guess you can expect from a five year old. The toy store is already bustling with people and you grab a cart and Jeonghan’s hand so you don’t lose each other. You make your way through the aisles, doing your best to find everything on the list.

“What about this one?” Jeonghan asks, holding up a green race car. You frown.

“No. He doesn’t like that shade of green, and he already owns three green cars. He wants a purple one…aha! Here it is.” You grab the one on the back of the rack before throwing it into the cart. “Okay. I think there’s toy dinosaurs a few aisles down, and then we should have everything here.”

You two continue through the store before you find the aisle full of different dinosaur themed toys. You pick up a book for you to gift your little brother yourself and then look over the toys.

“He already owns a t-rex, a stegosaurus, and a triceratops,” you mutter more to yourself than Jeonghan. You glance through the toys before landing on a dinosaur with a long neck. “Brachiosaurus, perfect.”

You place this in the cart as well and then turn to Jeonghan, who is smiling at you. “You’re a good big sister, you know that?”

“I’m just doing what my mom asked me,” you tell him as you push the cart towards the check out.

“No I mean, you pay attention to him. You know what toys he already owns and what colors he likes. It’s sweet.”

You brush Jeonghan off again, but the words cause a warm feeling to bloom in your stomach. You two stand in the check out line for what feels like forever before you’re able to leave. As you two are walking to the car you look over at Jeonghan and realize he deserves something for Christmas as well. He’s spending the whole break with you and your family, it’s the least you can do.

“Oh shit, I forgot something. Here, take the car keys, I’ll be back in a flash, I promise.” You hand him the keys before running back into the store before Jeonghan can protest.

You weave through the people before making it to the Lego aisle. You’ve seen all of the models inside his apartment, and you figure this will be a good gift for him. You search through the different kits to find the best one, before settling on the electric guitar set. You’ve seen him play the bass a couple of times, and you hope Jeonghan will still appreciate the thought.

The line is a bit shorter this time and you make sure the box is well hidden in the bag before making your way back to the car. You store the bag in the back before slipping into the driver’s seat.

“You got everything you need?” Jeonghan asks and you smile and nod.

“Yep! On to the next place.”

The next store is less exciting than being in a toy store and it seems to be even busier. You and Jeonghan hold hands once more as you walk through the store. His humming to the Christmas music on the speakers calms you a bit, and you allow yourself to enjoy the Christmas spirit more.

You and Jeonghan make it through the store, and another one before you decide it’s time for a lunch break. You two find a cute Italian place to sit down and rest your feet. You’re waiting for your food to arrive when your phone dings and you see an Instagram notification. You open your phone to see Jeonghan has tagged you in a post.

The first photo is the two of you at the skating rink, your arms wrapped around each other. There are a few more photos. A photo of you holding your hot chocolate while looking at the lights. The selfie you two took in front of the tree in the plaza. The final photo is a photo of you putting an ornament on your own tree at home. The post is captioned Christmas 🎄🎁☕.

“Our friends are going to think we’re crazy,” you tell Jeonghan. In theory, your friends know you and Jeonghan are sleeping together, but you’ve never explicitly said it, and they most definitely don’t know that Jeonghan is spending Christmas at your house.

“So? Let them. Those are cute photos.” You can’t argue with that and you drop a like and repost it to your story.

When you finish up lunch there’s one more store you two have to hit. There are only a few odd and end items left and you can’t wait to get home. You and Jeonghan are looking at sweaters when you feel someone bump into you and you lurch forward a bit.

“Watch it,” the man growls.

“Hey!” Jeonghan shouts, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

“What?” The man turns back around.

“You bumped into my girlfriend.” Despite this not being the moment to get flustered, hearing Jeonghan call you his girlfriend even without your family around sends butterflies into your tummy.

The man and Jeonghan have a stare down for a moment before the man huffs out a pathetic “sorry” before walking off.

“Thanks Han,” you say before you place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Well, some people just belong on the naughty-list,” he says, which makes you chuckle.

By late afternoon you two finally finish shopping and you get a text from your mom that tells you she’s taken your little brother to the grocery store so you and Jeonghan have time to get the gifts in the house without him seeing. You and Jeonghan quickly bring everything to your room before closing the door. You make sure to slip the present for Jeonghan under your bed before he notices and you then turn to him.

“Want to help me wrap these presents?”

“Of course.”

You and Jeonghan sit on the floor of your room, where Jeonghan soon finds out you’re awful at wrapping gifts.

“It’s so easy. It’s just folds and tape,” Jeonghan says as he places a piece of tape on the most perfectly wrapped present you’ve ever seen.

“Oh shush. I usually use gift bags okay? And now I have you, so you can wrap all of the presents from Santa, and I can do the rest,” you declare as you scribble a To: Mom onto the present you finished wrapping.

“Fine, but only because you’re the worst gift wrapping elf I’ve ever seen.”

Though you know it’s meant as an insult, you can’t help but smile at the cuteness of his sentence. You’re also just happy you don’t have to wrap more gifts than necessary.

It’s late when you wake up the next morning, due to the fact you went to bed late last night. You and Jeonghan stayed up to finish wrapping presents and then you two got onto talking about family Christmas tradition and before you knew it, it was two am.

The bed is chilly and when you sit up to look, the other side of the bed is empty. You wrap a blanket around you and head downstairs to see Jeonghan and your mom sitting at the table talking. When you look out the window it’s a world of white and you start to feel giddy.

“It snowed!” You exclaim. “Hannie, we have to go play in it!”

You know it’s childish, but you can’t help it. You quickly get dressed and put on your winter coat and gloves before heading outside. A few minutes later, Jeonghan exits the house as well, your brother in tow. You search through your garage before you find your sleds and the three of you take a short walk to the park down the street. There’s a big hill next to it and you all take turns riding down it.

“C’mon, ride down together with me.” Jeonghan pats the space in between his legs on the sled and you climb on.

Jeonghan pushes off and then wraps his arms around your waist as you two go speeding down the hill. You can feel the snow fly back into your face and your sled goes tilting before you and Jeonghan are completely thrown off. You two land in a heap together and you both start giggling. You roll over in the snow and start to make a snow angel and Jeonghan does the same.

When you stand up and assess your work, you pull out your phone to snap a photo of the two angels next to each other. You’re just putting your phone away when you feel something cold and hard pelt you in the leg. You look over to see Jeonghan with a mischievous grin on his face, already aiming his next snow ball.

You quickly bend down to grab snow and form your own ammo, while also trying to dodge the onslaught of Jeonghan’s. You two go back and forth, throwing snow at each other, before Jeonghan finally ambushes you and grabs you by the waist and tackles you down into the snow.

You two are breathing heavily as Jeonghan hovers over you. There’s a twinkle in his eye and snow in his hair and you think that this might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen Jeonghan. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you reach up and grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to connect your lips to his.

Jeonghan melts into you, kissing you back. You two lay there in the snow, kissing, until you hear commotion next to you.

“Ewww.” You both pull apart to see your little brother standing over you two. You and Jeonghan both blush and Jeonghan climbs off of you before helping you up. “I’m getting cold, can we go back home now?”

Neither you nor Jeonghan make eye contact as you grab the sleds. Jeonghan gives your brother a piggyback on the way home when you get inside your brother pulls Jeonghan off to go play video games together. You’re grateful for the break, still a bit flustered from your intense kiss earlier.

You’re luckily able to ignore the boy for the most part for the rest of the day, until it’s time to go to bed. You and Jeonghan shuffle around each other awkwardly until you decide to finally bite the bullet.

“Hey, about the kiss earlier, I’m sorry. I-”

“No, it’s okay!” Jeonghan cuts you off. “Don’t worry I uh…I liked it.”

“O-oh, okay,” you mumble.

Neither of you say anything else as you two climb into bed. You’re not sure if you should move closer to Jeonghan until he reaches over to tug you towards him. You slot yourself into his arms, and you hope he can’t feel your heart beating a million beats per second.

You’re glad you didn’t make anything weird with Jeonghan, but now you’re afraid you may have made things a lot more complicated for yourself.

“You two are on cookie duty,” your mom tells you and Jeonghan as she bustles around the kitchen. She’s been stressed since you two woke up. You suppose that’s fair when it’s Christmas Eve, and it gives you a good reason to not think about you and Jeonghan.

“Can I help? I want to make cookies for Santa!” Your little brother exclaims.

“If you want to, buddy,” you tell him.

“Yay!”

“There’s a recipe book in the cupboard, and I should have picked up all of the ingredients the other day,” your mother continues.

“We’ve got it Mom, no stressing, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you Pumpkin.” Your mom kisses your cheek before running off to finish errands.

You clap your hands together. “Let’s get to baking.”

There’s several cookies your mom has requested you to make and you get to work on the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, while Jeonghan works on the sugar cookies. The chocolate chip cookies are fairly easy and you’re able to pop them into the oven while Jeonghan and your brother are cutting out shapes into the sugar cookies.

“This one is shaped as a snowflake,” your brother explains to Jeonghan as he stamps the dough.

“Ah, I see,” Jeonghan says and you grin. You work around them as you grab the flour to start making gingerbread.

Right as you’re walking past Jeonghan, he spins around, running into you and getting a cloud of flour all over both of you. You can hear your little brother giggling as Jeonghan huffs a laugh.

“You know, darling, this is pretty cliche,” Jeonghan says, still grinning.

“It would only be cliche if I smear frosting on the tip of your nose,” you tell him, continuing to walk past. “But, don’t count that out yet.”

By the afternoon the house is warm and filled with the sweet scent of baked goods. The cookies are cooled and all three of you have already sneaked one or two for yourselves as you sit down to decorate. Your brother has been given the task of frosting the sugar cookies for Santa, while you and Jeonghan get to work building a gingerbread house.

“Look, not to brag, but I’ve come in second place every year for my family’s gingerbread house contest.”

“Second place? Why not first?” You snicker.

“Because my cousin is an architect, okay. It’s called an unfair advantage.”

You giggle once more. “If you say so, Hannie. Here, you can make the shingles with these.”

The two of you work in harmony, decorating the little house with all of the candy. When the house is finished you two move onto making the little gingerbread man.

“Look at little Hannie,” Jeonghan says, holding up the gingerbread man he just made. It’s decorated to look like Jeonghan, even done with his signature smirk.

“Very cute,” you tell him. “But your hair isn’t that long anymore.” You reach over and swipe some of the icing used to make his hair off of the cookie before reaching up to smear it on Jeonghan’s nose.

“Oh I see,” Jeonghan hums, doing his best to keep the grin off his face.

“I told you, don’t count it out yet.”

Before you can even stop him, Jeonghan is dipping into the bowl of frosting and swiping a streak over your cheek. You squeal as Jeonghan grins proudly.

“There, now we’re even.” You fake pout at Jeonghan slightly and he playfully rolls his eyes before leaning in and kissing your cheek, right over the icing. When he pulls away, he’s licking his lips. “I’m sorry, but revenge just tastes so sweet, darling.”

It’s your turn to playfully roll your eyes now, not at all upset with Jeonghan’s antics.

You finish up your gingerbread self as well and place it next to Jeonghan’s in front of the house. Jeonghan pushes his towards yours even more, so their hands touch. “Look, they’re now holding hands.”

“You’re so stupid,” you tell him, but you’re smiling.

“You like that I’m stupid,” Jeonghan teases.

“Maybe…but only a little bit,” you say, but it’s enough to make Jeonghan grin from ear to ear.

It's a Christmas tradition in your house to spend Christmas Eve watching everyone’s favorite Christmas movies, and this year your brother is actually able to make a suggestion.

“Jeonghan, sweetie, you get to suggest a movie as well,” your mother tells him as she readies the hot chocolate.

“Really? I wouldn’t want to impose?”

“You should know by now you’re not imposing, and if anything, it’s Christmas Eve, you deserve to have some cheer as well. It will be nice to have something new in the lineup of movies.”

Your mom starts to pour the hot chocolate into mugs before sliding the reindeer shaped mug towards your brother. It’s his favorite cup to use, even when it’s not the Christmas season, though it was originally gifted to you.

“No Mom, let Jeonghan have it.” Your brother declares as he pushes the mug towards Jeonghan.

“For me? Thank you!”

You lean in towards Jeonghan. “He must really like you. He doesn’t even let me use that mug, and it belongs to me.”

After the hot chocolate and cookies have been passed out to everyone (and your brother has set some out for Santa), you all move into the living room. Your parents sit in their chairs and your little brother places himself on the floor right in front of the TV. You and Jeonghan move over to the couch where you naturally slot yourself into his arms, you two cuddling up together as you throw a blanket over your laps.

The first movie of the night is your brother’s choice, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It’s a classic and you can’t be mad at the choice. The whole time Jeonghan keeps making jokes only loud enough for you to hear and you keep giggling, causing your brother to glare at you, causing you to elbow Jeonghan in his side.

“You better not distract me when we’re watching my movie,” you warn Jeonghan.

Jeonghan throws his hands up in fake surrender. “Oh darling I wouldn’t dare.”

Your favorite Christmas movie is A Charlie Brown Christmas and you make your family watch it every year. For you, it never gets old, and you watch it with what can only be described as stars in your eyes. You know Jeonghan finds it amusing, but you can’t help your love for all things Peanuts and something about that silly little Christmas tree brings you joy.

Instead of your parents choosing a movie, Jeonghan gets to choose this year, and you’re thankful you don’t have to watch your dad’s choice, A Christmas Story. Instead Jeonghan chooses the Jim Carey version of The Grinch, which makes you grin wide.

“That’s my second favorite Christmas movie. Did you know that?”

“Nope, I guess we just have great taste, darling.”

“Of course we do. I mean, we’re dating each other,” you flirt and you watch Jeonghan duck his head in embarrassment.

Jeonghan shifts his position so you’re sitting in between his legs, leaning back against him. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder. It’s cozy and your heart feels full at the moment.

You know none of it is real, that it’s all fake for something as trivial as birth control, but right now, you so desperately want it to be real. Enough that you’ll let yourself believe it is, even if it’s just for a moment.

It’s late when the movie is finished and your brother is doing his best to keep his eyes open.

“Hey little man, if you don’t go to bed soon, Santa won’t come,” you tell him as you pick him up in your arms.

“B-but Santa has to come,” he mutters in a sleepy voice.

“Well then let us put you to bed.” You carry your brother to his bedroom, Jeonghan following you behind.

“What if I can’t sleep? Is Santa still going to come?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sleep, buddy. Do you want us to read you a story?”

“Please?”

“Hey Han, there’s a copy of The Night Before Christmas in my room, could you go grab it?” You ask Jeonghan and he nods. He comes back a few minutes later, holding the book. He settles next to you on the bed and you hold the book open for your little brother to see.

You and Jeonghan take turns narrating the book until your little brother’s eyes droop down and he’s fast asleep. You and Jeonghan quietly sneak out of the room and slip into yours. Due to the presents being hidden in your room, it’s your turn to play Santa.

You and Jeonghan carry the presents to the living room before placing them under the tree. It looks picture perfect when you two are done. You and Jeonghan move over to the plate of cookies set out before both grabbing one and tapping them together.

“Cheers,” Jeonghan says.

“Cheers, to our success at playing Santa.” You both bite into your cookies, making sure to leave crumbs on the plate for your brother to see in the morning. You split the glass of milk, leaving a few drops at the bottom.

“Look.” Jeonghan points up and you catch sight of the spring of mistletoe. Your family has never been ones to do mistletoe and you wonder if your mom put it up this year just because she knew Jeonghan was going to be with you.

You’re surprised you didn’t see it earlier, but to be fair you haven’t been home much the past few days, and even when you have you haven’t been near the fireplace.

Right then the clock in your house strikes midnight, and you lean in to kiss Jeonghan. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him, as you cup his face. You two kiss for what you’re sure is much longer than it needs to be before pulling away.

“Merry Christmas, Jeonghan.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

“Santa! Santa, Santa, Santa! Santa was here!” You wake up to screaming and you barely have time to process what is happening when your bedroom door is flung open and there’s a tiny body attacking you and Jeonghan.

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” you mumble as Jeonghan yawns loudly. “We’ll be there in a second.”

“You better be.” With that your brother leaves and you and Jeonghan decide it’ll be best if you two make your way into the living room.

Your parents are both already in the living room, both of them looking tired as well. Your brother is eagerly sitting in front of the tree, inspecting each present as he waits for you and Jeonghan to shuffle over to the couch. Jeonghan sits down and you practically sit on his lap with how close you get to him, cuddling into his side, wishing you were still asleep.

“Merry Christmas! Say hi to the camera,” your dad says as he holds his phone up to record your little brother.

“Hi!” He says while waving enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas! Can I open my presents now?”

Your mom chuckles before telling him to do so.

You watch with half interest as your brother opens his presents, doing your best to wake up. Jeonghan is warm against you, though, and it makes you more sleepy. It isn’t until your brother is almost done opening his presents from Santa that you’re awake.

As soon as your dad has picked up all of the wrapping paper, you move towards the tree to open your own presents. It’s nothing much, as you really only asked for clothes and a few other things for your apartment. The life of a college student.

When you’ve thanked your parents for your presents you hand them their presents from you. You’re satisfied at the giddy your little brother has for the dinosaur book you got him and he gives you a giant hug.

“Pumpkin, what’s that present left under the tree?” Your mom points at the final present under the tree.

“It’s my present for Jeonghan,” you say as you pick it up and hand it to the boy.

“You got me something?” Jeonghan asks you, a bit of awe in his face.

“Of course.” You sit down next to him and press a kiss to his cheek. “I hope you like it.”

Jeonghan rips the wrapping paper off to reveal the Lego set underneath, and Jeonghan gasps. There’s an excited grin on his face as he looks between the box and you.

“You got me this?”

“Yeah, I noticed the sets in your room and thought you’d like this. I know you play the bass but-”

Jeonghan cuts you off by lunging forward and kissing you. You melt into him, reciprocating the kiss. When you pull back, there’s a twinkle in his eye. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”

“Oh, let me take a photo!” Your mom exclaims. “Go stand in front of the tree.”

You know there’s not fighting your mom and you pull Jeonghan over. You press your sides together, smiling at the camera. Your brother wants on as well so you two pick him up and hold him between you two.

“Aww, my babies, you guys look so cute! Okay, now who wants breakfast?”

You’re standing on your back porch, watching the snow fall, when you hear steps approaching. When you turn around you’re not surprised to see Jeonghan approaching you.

“You know, you didn’t have to get me anything for Christmas. Let alone a Lego set.”

You shrug. “I wanted to. You’re doing this for me, and I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation.”

“Well thank you. It means a lot to me.” Jeonghan moves closer to you and wraps his arms around you. You accept his hug, snuggling into his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything for you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to. You just being here is enough.”

Jeonghan pulls away from you slightly, so he can look you in the eyes. You can see him struggling to say what he wants to, before he eventually just spits it out. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“I…I’ve really enjoyed the past week, and it’s made me realize I need to be honest with you. I really like you, and I have since we first met. We had that first date which ended in us having sex, and when you never brought up a second date I kind of figured you just wanted to keep it on a physical level. I didn’t mind, but I guess I always kind of wanted it to be more,” Jeonghan admits. “And being here, and spending all this time together and not having sex, it kind of made me realize just how much I like you.”

You can feel your heart beating in your chest as Jeonghan speaks. He likes you. Yoon Jeonghan likes you, and has had a crush on you since you first met. The notion makes your stomach erupt in butterflies.

You stare at him, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold and white snowflakes dotting his black hair. He looks like an angel.

“I understand if you don’t like me back, but I needed to tell you that. I’m not sure what this means for us but-”

It’s now your turn to cut Jeonghan off with a kiss. Your hold on him tightens as you pull him into you and Jeonghan eagerly accepts. He moves his hands to cup the back of your neck, holding you gently as he deepens the kiss. You’re both a little breathless when you pull apart and Jeonghan has a giant smile on his face.

“I like you too. A lot. And being here made me realize I want this to be real, if you do too.”

“Yes. I would love that.”

“Well then, I hate to inform you that I don’t think we can be fake dating anymore, as I have a very real boyfriend.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. And he’s very handsome and talented and a very good kisser.”

“Well it’s a good thing I also have a very real girlfriend, who is also a very good kisser.” Jeonghan’s face gets closer to yours as he talks before he leans in fully at the end, kissing you once more.

“Your father and I are going to go look at Christmas lights with your brother. Would you two like to join?” You mom pokes her head into your bedroom where you and Jeonghan are cuddled up on your bed, watching a movie.

You've been spending the day just enjoying each other's presence. You've also been answering sporadic texts from your friends, asking about you and Jeonghan after your Instagram post earlier.

You posted the photo of you kissing his cheek in the ice rink, the photos your mom took this morning, and a photo of your gingerbread men holding hands, captioned My favorite present this year ♡. Your friends have been hounding you about it since.

You glance at Jeonghan and down at your laptop before turning to your mom.

“I think we’ll just stay here,” you tell her.

She just smiles at you two. “Okay, have fun. We’ll probably be gone for a few hours.” Neither you nor Jeonghan miss the wink she sends you two.

You can hear the garage door open and close as your family leaves and you and Jeonghan both glance at each other. You’re not quite sure what the rules are on how long you should wait to have sex after becoming a couple, but then again, it’s not like you and Jeonghan haven’t fucked before.

“Do you want to-”

“You know just because we-”

You both stop talking when you realize the other one is. You gesture for Jeonghan to continue.

“Just because we’re now officially dating, doesn’t mean we can’t still have sex,” Jeonghan says. “Unless you want to wait.”

“No, I actually was going to ask if you uh, wanted to have sex.” You almost feel awkward, talking about it, like you two haven’t been hooking up on the regular for over a year.

You’re relieved of the uncomfortableness as soon as Jeonghan turns to kiss you. After a week of kissing for show, it’s nice to finally kiss him for yourself. As strange as it might be, it feels nice to kiss Jeonghan like this. Though you’re excited to see where dating Jeonghan takes you, hooking up is how you know him best.

Jeonghan moves your laptop off your laps and climbs on top of you, pressing you into the bed. Though you’re used to sleeping with Jeonghan, there’s still a new air to this. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jeonghan so eager to fuck you, but you can’t say you’re complaining at all.

Your lips slide together, deepening the kiss, as Jeonghan’s hand ghosts your waist. You can feel his tongue swipe against your lips right as he starts to push his hand up under your shirt. You gasp when you feel his hand grope your tits and Jeonghan takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You whimper as you feel his hand slide under your bra as well, his fingers playing with your nipples. His tongue explores the inside of your mouth and you suck on it slightly before pulling away all together. As you take a moment to catch your breath, Jeonghan moves down to suck at your neck.

“F-fuck, Hannie,” you whine.

“So pretty, darling,” Jeonghan mutters.

You push Jeonghan off of you slightly, so you can remove both your shirt and bra. With your chest now bare, Jeonghan takes the liberty of wrapping his lips around your nipple. He flicks the bud with his tongue, while his hand shows the other one some love. Your body arches up into his touch as you feel your cunt clench down around nothing, desperate to have him inside of you.

Jeonghan must realize this as well, and he pops his mouth off of you. “Want me to touch you, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you beg. You wiggle your hips a bit and Jeonghan chuckles as he hooks his fingers into your waistband and slides both your pajama pants and underwear off in one go. Like he’s on autopilot, Jeonghan reaches down and starts to rub at your clit with two fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already. Do you want my fingers or my mouth?”

“D-don’t care,” you mutter, already enjoying the pleasure of his fingers pressed against you. “Pick one. Both. Whatever. Just please, don’t stop touching me.”

You gasp a bit when Jeonghan pushes your legs apart even further, allowing himself to slip in between them. He leans down and starts to kiss your thighs, leaving small nips every once in a while. When it’s clear you’re too impatient for this, Jeonghan closes the gap between his mouth and your pussy, pressing a kiss to your entrance. From there, it only gets messier as Jeonghan darts his tongue out to lap at your arousal. He licks a thick strip along your slit, stopping at your clit so he can wrap his lips around it. You moan as you feel him suck on the bud.

His hands are holding on tight to your thighs, keeping them apart. His tongue swirls around your clit and you buck your hips up as your hands fly to grip onto the sheets. You’re sure you look pathetic, but you don’t care if it means you can get head this good.

His mouth switches between sucking your clit and licking at your entrance. You’re dripping slick now, even as Jeonghan licks it up. He buries his face between your thighs deeper, and you’re sure his face is a mess now. He drags his teeth against your sensitive clit and you whine loudly.

Jeonghan seems to be happy with his affect on you and he finally gives attention to how empty you feel. His finger rubs your slit for a second before he pushes it inside of you. You’re completely drenched and his finger glides in with ease, allowing him to slide a second one in not long after.

His mouth is still working at your clit as he fucks a third finger into you. He thrusts them deeper each time, curling them back to hit the soft spot of your walls. It pays off to have someone know your body so well, and you can already feel your brain going fuzzy as Jeonghan knows all the right places to hit.

Your abs tighten as you can feel yourself approaching your orgasm. Your thighs clamp down around Jeonghan’s head as a warning, and then you’re shaking as you reach your high. You moan freely, your hands grasping at the sheets, as Jeonghan continues to work you through it.

When your body has calmed down, you sink into the bed, allowing yourself to rest for a moment. Jeonghan has finally come up for air, his whole face shiny with your arousal. You grab him a tissue and he wipes off his mouth and fingers.

“You’re turn,” you whisper as you push Jeonghan down onto the bed. He’s still completely dressed you and push his shirt up to kiss down his stomach before pulling down his pants and underwear like he did to you.

His cock springs free, fully hard and leaking. You slot yourself between his legs and waist no time taking the tip in between your lips. You suck gently before working your way down his length. After doing this many times, you’ve had practice taking him, and you can completely get his whole cock down your throat.

Though Jeonghan isn’t very blessed in the girth department, his cock is the longest you’ve ever been with, being able to reach deep inside you and down your throat. You bob your head up and down, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, before you pop off his cock, wrapping your lips around the shaft as your hand fondles his balls.

Your tongue darts out so you can run it against his cock, swirling it around the rim of his tip. You can hear the stuttered breathing of Jeonghan above you, as you back to sucking at the head of his cock. His pre-cum coats your tongue, and you have to admit, the salty taste brings you joy.

“G-gonna cum,” Jeonghan mumbles before he’s spilling his load right into your mouth. You do your best to catch it all, but some still slips out and drips down your chin, which you think makes Jeonghan cum even harder. “Fuck, your mouth is so good.”

You pull your mouth off of Jeonghan, swallowing the rest of the cum in your mouth, and Jeonghan groans. You crawl back up to Jeonghan’s face, kissing him. If the fact you just had his dick in your mouth bothers Jeonghan, he doesn’t show it.

“Need you in me, Hannie,” you tell him.

“Okay baby,” Jeonghan responds. He flips you over, so you’re laying on your back. He removes his shirt, so you’re both completely naked, before leaning down to kiss you again.

You’re not sure how his cock is still hard, despite just cumming, but you can’t complain when you feel him rubbing his tip against your slit. His kiss deepens as he pushes inside of you, your walls clenching down to mold against his cock.

You try to relax, but he feels so good sliding into you. After a moment he’s fully inside of you, his tip pressed snug up against your cervix. Jeonghan slowly slides out of you before slamming back in. Your pussy is soaking wet and you’re sure Jeonghan’s cock is drenched, if the wet squelch was any indicator.

Jeonghan starts to slowly thrust in and out of you, building up his pace as he goes. Your thighs hug his hips as you wrap your legs around him and your fingers dig into his back. You can feel his mouth suck at your collarbone as he slams into you harder.

His cock reaches deep in you, the drag of his cock against your walls causing your brain to go even more incoherent. All you can think about is Jeonghan and his body against yours and his cock fucking you so good. There’s a reason you’ve let him hit with no strings attached for so long, it’s just even better now that you can fully call him yours.

“You feel so good around me,” Jeonghan mumbles into your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

“Love your cock,” you mumble back. “So deep inside.”

“Fuck, need you to ride me.”

You and Jeonghan take a moment to reposition and then you’re bouncing in his lap. Your grip onto his shoulders tight for leverage as you fuck yourself on his cock. His cock hits as a new angle in this position and all you can do is moan like a bitch in heat.

Jeonghan reaches down and grabs onto your ass, guiding you up and down his cock as he squeezes the flesh. Your tits are bouncing wildly in Jeonghan’s face and he leans forward, sucking one into his mouth. You throw your head back as your eyes flutter close, lost in your pleasure.

Your thighs get tired at some point and you start to just grind against him, his cock curving up into you at just the right angle. Jeonghan can sense your neglected clit and he reaches down to start rubbing circles into it. Your cunt clenches down, and both you and Jeonghan can tell you’re about to cum soon.

“Need your cum, Hannie,” you tell him, your words slurring together. “Fill me up.”

“Anything for you, darling,” Jeonghan says, half delirious himself.

It only takes one final jerk of your clit to have you trembling around him. Your pussy walls fluttering against his cock as you fall forward against Jeonghan, your body twitching as you cum. You can feel Jeonghan’s cock throbbing inside of you as he cums as well, filling you full of his seed.

You both lay like that for a while, with Jeonghan still inside of you as you exchange soft kisses. When it’s clear you need to get up, you slowly lift yourself off of Jeonghan’s cock, and you can feel his cum slide out of you.

“Fuck, we need to wash my sheets,” you mumble.

“Okay, but let’s cuddle for just a bit longer.” And well, you can’t say no to that.

“Oh, we hate to see you two go,” you mom says as Jeonghan finishes putting your things into your car. “Visit soon, okay? And bring Jeonghan as well.”

“Yes Mom, I will.” You lean in to hug her.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you guys over break,” Jeonghan tells your mom and she pulls him into a hug as well.

“Thank you for being such a good guest. And for being such a good boyfriend to our Pumpkin. Visit soon, okay sweetheart?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan smiles at your mom.

“Bye-bye!” Your little brother says as he hugs your leg. You reach down and pick him up so you and Jeonghan can hug him in between you two. You press a kiss to his cheek.

“Bye, buddy. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Seen you soon!” You let him down and he runs off.

“Text me as soon as you get to your apartment.”

“I will. Okay, we really have to go.”

“I love you,” your mom says as she kisses your cheek.

“I love you too.”

“Okay bye Pumpkin, bye Jeonghan.” You both wave before climbing into the car.

As you take off you reach over and grab Jeonghan’s hand.

“Well it seems this was a successful trip,” Jeonghan says.

“Very,” you agree.

You not only got a boyfriend, but now you don’t ever have to tell your mom you lied to her to get on birth control. It’s really a win-win situation in your eyes.

You glance over at Jeonghan to see him already staring back at you. Yeah, it truly is a win.

taglist: @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @lovelyhan @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @lllucere @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @yeosayang @miraclewoozi @d0nghyck @soonhoonietrash @violetvoo @yongi-lee @spilled-coffee-cup @morklee02 @17kwans @candidupped @ressonancee @m1nghaos @1-800-jeonwonwoo @anothershorthuman @chwecardcaptor @dinoissupreme @speaknowlwt @hyneyedfiz @aaniag @shamayyyy @moonwalker-witchgrrrl @nidda13 @walkingtravesty97 @jwnghyuns @flwrshwa @valentxi @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @starlight-night0 @todorokiskitten @miriamxsworld @just-here-to-read-01 @sunnyteume @seuomo @tinkerbell460

#jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fluff #rru.writes #rru.fics #★ mdni

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palskippah · 1 month

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Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

#sonic the hedgehog #my art #agent stone #doctor eggman #ivo robotnik #aban stone #coolest fanmade name #stobotnik #I'm so normal about my fanbabies #Ivania Robotnik is too obvious but also why not #Sofia Robotnik sounds cool tho #fankids #I gave up on coloring everything sorry #SONIC BOOM EGGMAN MY HUSBAND 🗣️🗣️🗣️#When I was a kid I watched that show just for him whwhw #pls pls pls receive this well i want to draw these villains in love more #eggman being in love with stone is my favorite thing in fics #he loves in such a weird way but it's okay Stone loves it

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chlorinecake · 3 months

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The Jealous Type | P. JS

contains rich boy jay x female reader, heavily gossip girl coded, kissing, jealousy, angst, cunnilingus (⚠︎)

Jay has a temper, which meant you’d have to hold a movie-star smile whenever he stormed out of business meetings upon flipping a few chairs…

Jay has a high sex drive, and you still haven’t quite mastered the art of making yourself look half-decent after a quickie in his office…

Jay has a reputation, and you’ve known since day one that dating the son of a multimillionaire in a city of bright lights with even brighter personalities meant one thing for you:

That you’d have to learn to look clean while playing dirty at all times.

Picture the backseat of a sleek Rolls Royce, tinted windows, chilled drinks, and roughly three minutes away from your final destination.

“I live a fast life, ____,” Jay began while sitting beside you, almost in a manner of warning as he relaxed into his seat.

“Great. Running sounds like fun,” you said, trying to display confidence before him.

“Every once in a while, maybe, but only if you can keep up…”

You let his words sink in, “Then I'll practice for you.”

He shook his head, “I'm afraid there's not much time left for that, love...”

“Well I've always believed in this thing called beginners luck.”

Your voice trailed off, heart prepared for another one of his defeated responses until he reached a hand in his side to grab something.

“Hold my wallet,” he said plainly, handing the leather rectangle to you.

“Jay, l—”

"Open it...” he pressed, taking your hand in his to force your reluctant fist open, “like it's yours.”

Taking heed to his words, you let out a breath, thumb and index finger tugging at the zipper to reveal a line of bills and his infamous black credit card.

“Jay, what’re you getting at here?”

“Don't look so impressed, it might come off as common,” he interrupted, watching your fingers pause at the leather opening.

You scoffed, “What's that supposed to mean?”

“That we’re in a movie, ____,” he smiled, “Just act the role to win the part.”

Aww, how wise of him….

“Great, so you won't let me run with you but playing pretend is okay?”

His smile didn’t falter at your words, only morphing into a smolder as he peered closer to you.

“Now why would I ever make you run in these sexy five inch heels?”

Your eyes fell to his hand that caressed your thigh once again, “Because sometimes, beauty is pain...”

“Very true… but it doesn't have to be...,” his voice encouraged gently, “not yet... not tonight.”

You expressed agreement with a hum before speaking again, “So can you take your fancy wallet back now?”

“Keep it,” he answered almost immediately, “Let's see if beginner's luck will help you hold onto it…”

“I'd sew this wallet to my ribcage if I had to—”

The vehicle suddenly came to a stop, flashing lights barely visible through the tinted windows as the car doors unlocked in unison.

“This is your exit,” the chauffeur clarified with a strong European accent, Jay offering the driver a thankful wave and stepping out of the car.

He walked over to your side of the car and did the same, telling you to “watch your step” as your feet met the ground.

Jay was right about one thing…

There wasn’t much time for you to practice “running” now that you were just seconds from meeting his friends and family for the first time…

The event in question was Mr. Park’s annual dinner party, held at his newly renovated restaurant in The Palace Hotel.

As soon as you stepped through the automatic sliding doors, you were met with the sound of live classical music thrumming from the center stage.

It wasn’t long before you and Jay got to socializing, helping yourselves to a few hors d’oeuvres and swigs of sparkling champagne under the glass chandelier.

His parents apparently had to leave the event early due to an unexpected emergency, so gossipy topics surrounding his family were definitely on the table.

You made sure to stay beside Jay the entire night, not only to comfort him, but to protect yourself.

That’s when a certain woman who had her eyes stuck on you two since the night began made her way by with a seductive sway in her hips.

“Nice chain, handsome,” she started without hesitation, her unfamiliar face somehow telling of her familiar intentions:

Trouble and drama.

“Thank you, Jennifer,” Jay replied, jawline clenching slightly at her prior use of a nickname.

Saying that Jay looked annoyed right now would be an understatement.

This Jennifer person was obviously his ex, though she continued speaking as if you weren’t even there.

“Isn’t that the same one you used to let me wear?,” she asked, eyes falling to his collarbone where the chain necklace sat.

“No,” he answered, a feigned smile masking the bitterness in his heart, “I got rid of that one a long time ago…”

“Aww,” she pouted, poking her acrylic nail into his shoulder, “do you have any idea how sad that makes me feel?”

“Don't poke at my boyfriend like he's some kind of toy,” you defended, your sudden boldness startling her.

Her hand stop at his the hem of his sleeve, cold green eyes meeting yours with a glare strong enough to make your skill crawl.

Yep… you officially hated her.

“Please, darling... lighten up,” she chirped, “this is just how me and Jay like to play sometimes... isn't that right, handsome? Or do you need a reminder—”

“That'd be rather unnecessary, don't you think?,” Jay snapped at her, “Maybe even a little crass...”

“Well your new girl seems tough... a little story time wouldn't hurt her…”

“Too bad I'm feeling a bit talked-out for the evening,” you spoke against her shameless demeanor, “It was nice meeting you, Jennifer. Really...”

“You too,” she mouthed with a smile, too prideful to reply loud enough for you to hear.

Turning on a heel, you hooked your elbow with Jay's, leading him outside of the venue.

“____, I can explain,” Jay started, matching your walking pace as you circled to hotel parking lot.

You shook your head, “There's no need, Jay… Your ex is a bitch, I get it.”

“____...”

“Can we just go back home already?,” you proposed, just realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

You exhaled weakly, Jay finding your shoulders as he turned you to face him, just inches from the car.

“Yes, love, we can go home, just please calm down for me, okay?”

The pitch of his voice lowered with its volume, “This was just as hard for me as it was for you…”

With that, a silence swarmed between you, just as his hand went to grip the chain around his neck.

He gave it what looked like an effortless tug before each metal link broken apart, leaving the once beautiful necklace into shiny sprinkles of gold on the pavement.

You let out another breath, “You lied, Jay... why would you keep her necklace—”

“I'm not proud of it, ____...,” he interrupted, eyes facing the ground, “but I wasn't gonna sit there and feed into her games by telling the truth...”

“Yeah… that’s because you just stood there and let her touch you instead," you retorted, walking past him and getting into the car.

You’re glad the ride home wasn’t long, you two having arrived at his penthouse somewhere around ten minutes upon leaving.

Jay's boots clicked with each step as he held your hand, guiding you up the stoned path and past the front door.

Few words were exchanged between you both once you got to the master bedroom, plopping yourself on the bed as he stood with his hands at his hips.

“What a waste of good food today... my dad would’ve been pissed to find out the guests hardly ate anything…”

Jay spoke lowly, drawing your eyes to the red velvet stain on his still crisply ironed white sleeve.

“Speaking of food, you have a bit of cake on your blazer... here, let me help you...”

He sighed, “I've got it, ____. It's really no big deal...”

“No, i-it's in an awkward spot, just let me just wipe it for y—”

“I said I've got it, alright!?”

His sharp features faltered upon realizing that he'd just raised his voice at you, and for no good reason.

“I apologize, love—”

“Whatever, Jay,” you sighed, plopping yourself on the hotel mattress, “this was all just a bad idea to begin with…”

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, arching his back so his blazer to fall off his shoulders, noting in his mind to spot-clean the stain later.

“It's just... I don't fit in your world... not a single part of it…”

Jay joined you on the bed, just in his T-shirt and slacks now as he took your face in his right hand.

“There's not a single place in my heart where you don’t fit in perfectly… y'know that?”

“I do, Jay...,” you answered quietly, meeting his dark eyes, “thank you...”

“Of course,” he smiled, placing a tender kiss to the back of your hand, “now let's get out of these fancy clothes and into something more comfortable, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, Jay standing up now and leaning before you to untie the heel straps around your ankles.

“You looked beautiful tonight, by the way,” he smiled, hands reaching beneath your evening gown to pull down the thigh-high satin stockings you wore.

“So did you.... handsome,” you smiled, propping up on your elbows to wash him undress you, and cheeky look on his face at your words.

“I learned something about you thanks to tonight,” he started, standing back up and giving you a look, “didn’t know you were the jealous type…”

You scoffed, feeling his hand tap at your thigh as a cue to turn over on your stomach now.

And so you did, hips up as he crawled onto your back in a straddling position, moving your hair out the way while admiring your beauty.

Your eyes were still internally rolling at his comment up until you felt him massaging your shoulders gently.

Somehow, you could tell he smiled at the little hums that escaped your throat once he applied a bit of pressure.

In a strange way, Jennifer’s behavior had a way of pulling both anger and anticipation out of you…

No, you didn’t like how she got all handsy with your man right in front of you, but you somewhat enjoyed the effect your reaction had on Jay…

He felt bad about what happened. Terrible, even.

And you could see it all over his pouty face that he wanted to make things up to you…

You laid there face down on the mattress beneath him, not able to focus on anything other than the feeling of his bulge pressing into your thighs.

He was turned on right now, and so were you—

“I still think I behaved myself pretty well tonight considering, though,” you huffed quietly, letting your body melt beneath his weight.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as his touch trailed from your hips to your waist, “And I’m very proud of you for that, love,” he whispered adoringly.

His hands now found the necklace around your neck, unclasping it with a simple click before reaching over to place it on the mini bedside table.

“Want me to unzip your dress for you as well while I’m here?…”

All you did was nod lazily in response, the cold metal zipper of the matching white gown you wore sending shivers down your delicate spine.

He slowly followed the trail along the curve of your back, chill air hitting your skin once he fully unzipped it past your hips.

“You know I’d never leave you for someone else, right?”

You let out a hum, feeling a bit frisky now that you were half-naked beneath him…

“Can’t be sure… who knows, there might be another piece of jewelry attached to one of your ex’s lying around here somewhere…”

He made a face at you even though you couldn’t see him from your position, “Seriously ____?”

“Very…” you answered, “…and I’m sorry...”

“It's okay,” he chuckled, letting his hands knead your hips, “But I guess that just means I’ll have to prove you wrong now…”

Your eyes flew open, brows slightly furrowed, “And prove me wrong how, exactly?”

“By giving you something I’ve never given anyone else before…”

He shimmied the evening gown past your thighs, revealing the lace lingerie set you wore underneath, it’s elastic hem snug around your plush skin…

The sight alone was enough to make him feel needy, your round ass perched up perfectly for him.

“Oh, so the whole wallet thing wasn’t a first-time trick either?” You joked, knowing he always liked it whenever you were sassy with him.

Jay smiled at your words once again, “On your back for me, princess.”

You sighed playfully before rolling over like he asked, his hands leaving the curve of your body as you got adjusted.

It didn’t take long for Jay to start teasing you back, letting a single finger circle your clothed breast but never touching your nipple.

You wanted him to grope your tits so badly, but instead his other free hand ghosted over your core, intentionally avoiding contact with your sweet spot.

“I have to ask this because I'm a gentleman, but do I have permission to make you cum more than once tonight?”

His question didn’t catch you off guard, but it definitely made you feel something in your stomach.

With dreamy eyes, you struggled to either focus on the spot between his legs or the smirk on his face…

“Only if you mean it...,” you finally uttered, giving him the cue he’d been waiting for so he could please you properly.

He let out a chuckle at your words, “Make sure you hold still for me, princess… you can pull on my hair if it gets too much...”

You watched as he nestled between your legs, looking up at you as a kitten waiting for head pats.

“But that'll hurt you, Jay...”

“I know,” he smirked, tugging your lingerie to the side and marveling at your swollen heat.

He immediately started lapping at your wetness, spitting on your clit despite how wet you already were.

“So fucking pretty,” he hummed in between making out with your sensitive cunt, foul sounds bouncing off the walls as your chest heaved with need.

Your hips subconsciously circled his face, the added movement heightening your pleasure.

You let your hands find his hair, not pulling yet but more so clawing at his scalp.

Jay groaned at your actions, looking up at you while his tongue still flicked against your clit.

The sight and sensation combined made your thighs tremble, Jay’s strong hands holding your hips down against the mattress.

“Baby, you’re supposed to stay still, remember?”

The words left his mouth in such a cooing manner, your mind going foggy because of his raspy bedroom voice.

You managed to squeak out a weak sentence, breathiness in your tone from all the action, “I-I’m trying, Jay…”

You cut yourself off when a loud whine slipped past your mouth, Jay’s hand reaching up to grope your tits while he kept sucking.

At this point, you couldn’t help but to tug at his locks, guiding his face against your folds for your own pleasure.

And he loved every bit of it… you using his face to help yourself climax.

You didn’t expect for a finger to enter you though, especially not a second one once he sped up his licking movements.

Another moan meddled from your body, eyes sealing shut as your hips rutted into his mouth, Jay’s little grunts acting as your breaking point.

The band in your stomach eventually popped, your clit throbbing with pleasure once Jay let his mouth ease your high with kitten licks and kisses.

He looked at you with such love in his eyes, “Are you convinced yet, princess?”

You couldn’t believe he was trying to talk to you in a state like this, but you still knew exactly what he was referring to with that question…

“Yes, but I think you could still do a little more,” you whispered back teasingly, caressing his face that was beaming with a subtle glow just from tasting you.

A smirk tugged at Jay’s lips once you stuck out a hand to pull him closer.

He sealed the contact with a kiss, resting a hand on your exposed thigh that still trembled slightly from your first climax.

“____,” he broke away breathlessly, clinging to your waist, “are you sure you can handle more? We can stop here…”

It’s not that he was concerned, as it was quite obvious in you haze stained eyes that you wanted more from him.

Though, given how tired you’d become after such a long day, he didn’t wanna risk overdoing it.

“But we just started kissing properly,” you protested lazily, leaving another peck to his puffy lips.

“I know, princess,” he smiled again, massaging the flesh of your thigh with his hand, “but we can always continue this another time…”

Another time when you two didn’t have to be at the airport around four in the morning the next day...

You understood him perfectly, and as his lady, you intended to respect him whenever he called the shots, even if it meant you’d have to wait.

“A better time, then,” you added, lips not being able to stay off of his as guided you back against the mattress.

In all honesty, it wasn’t easy for him to tell you no like this, especially not with the raging boner in his pants now, but he knew your rest was more important.

It didn’t take long for him to hang up all your clothes, hop in the shower with you.

He had even helped you wash your hair, massaging your scalp and washing you down before grabbing you both a clean set of pajamas to wear.

And of course, they were matching.

Finally, you took it upon yourself to prepare a set of fresh bedding linen for you two, starting a load on laundry to get back to whenever you could.

Letting out a yawn, Jay found the silk mattress first, still smelling of his potent lavender body wash by time you joined him.

Finding your waist, he pulled you against his toned chest, snuggling his member in between the natural shape of your hips, but not in a sexual way…

More so, it was a protective cuddling position, in essence…

He left a few kisses along your neck, helping you to get comfortable under the covers.

“Moving forward,” you started randomly, “let’s make sure there are no Jennifer’s on the guest lists for your private events…”

Jay let out a laugh that melted your lovesick heart all over again, “Aww, we have our first mutual enemy…”

“Can’t say she doesn’t deserve it, either…,” you returned, grazing the knuckles of the hand he held you with, “thanks for making me feel better, baby...”

He pressed another warm kiss to soft skin, “Of course, princess… Now let’s get some sleep now, hmm? We have another obligation tomorrow, you know….”

Ahhh, yes… The fast life of Jay Park.

“To tomorrow…” you agreed, feeling his warmth leave you for a second as he turned the night light off, “now hold me properly, you’re not close enough.”

✧ Thank you to everyone who’s reading this right now!! I meant to give this story a full smut ending, but for some reason, it’s always hard for me to write intense sexual stuff for Jay ;-; … Anyways though, this was also my first time writing a oneshot for our Mr. Jongsby, so let’s hope I did him justice and y’all liked this one :’3 …

✧ My masterlist for newbies and bored readers huhu ^^

✧ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

#enhypen #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #park jongseong #jay smut #jay ff #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #enhypen jay imagines #enha smut #enhypen jay

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milkloafy · 14 days

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THE DUTIES OF A BODYGUARD — JIYAN

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: jiyan never does an assignment half-assed. accepting a job as your bodyguard means being there to protect you at all times. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: bodyguard au, modern au, fem!reader, reader is a rich gorl, spoiled but like aware?, almost nudity, 17+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.2k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: inspired by creativepromptsforwriting’s bodyguard prompts :> red flag!reader kinda LMAO she’s very diff compared to how i normally write them but yk what don’t we all wanna pretend we’re a spoiled rich bitch with a hot bodyguard sometimes?this reader would 1000% drive jiyan crazy but like in the best way yk vibes u.u

There were few individuals who truly needed bodyguards, in your humble opinion.

Not the president of whatever country, not the elderly monarchs that should be abolished, not billionaires who made their money exploiting the vulnerable. For all you cared, most of those people were entitled assholes who didn’t need to be protected.

The only people who deserved bodyguards were those under great threat. And sure, the powerful and influential people could be in danger as well. But frankly, you still didn’t care about them.

And, naturally, when your wealthy father told you he hired a bodyguard for you, you were suspicious. As far as you knew, you weren’t under any threat. Your family wasn’t even multimillionaire status. Just a few millions…

Certainly not enough to warrant much attention or animosity that your safety was in question. You were only the heiress of a multimillion dollar company. Most of your friends were as well. It was nothing too out of the ordinary in your circle.

You thought having a personal bodyguard was useless and immediately spoke out against your parents when they mentioned they would hire one for you, though none of your complaints were listened to by your family, of course.

Unfortunately, those complaints melted away when you saw your bodyguard.

His long, blue hair was tied up in a ponytail on the back of his head and you immediately thought of how fun it looked to play with. His golden eyes drew you in with his serious stare. The tight black fit of his clothes hugged every defined muscle on his arms and abdomen, and you felt yourself staring for just a little too long.

You met his gaze and the corner of your mouth quirked mischievously when you saw him eyeing you as well.

“This is your new bodyguard, Jiyan,” introduced your father. “He is to accompany you everywhere, understood? And please, do not try to scare this one off.”

You smiled dryly, shrugging in response. It wasn’t as if your words mattered much around here. At least this time, your bodyguard was handsome enough to look at. Maybe you could even have some fun with him.

At least, that was your thought before you realized Jiyan took your father’s words very literally.

He accompanied you back to your apartment—up to the penthouse suite, of course. And you showed him an open guest room for him to stay at if need be. However, he didn’t stop at the living room or common areas like you had expected. Jiyan followed you even as you entered your room.

As he slid through the door behind you, you gave him a questioning look.

“Can I help you?” you asked, voice higher than normal.

He shook his head. “No, I’m only here doing my job.”

“Your job?” you echoed. “Does being my bodyguard entail you being with me no matter where I go?”

Jiyan nodded without the slightest bit of hesitation. “Yes. As your father said, I need to be in the room with you at all times.”

He said that with such sincerely you almost giggled. You were certain he was taking the job too literally, but as you noticed the darkness outside your window, you decided you could mess around with him for a bit.

“At all times?” you asked with a raised brow.

“That is correct.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

When Jiyan didn’t reply, you began taking off your shirt, unfastening the pearl buttons adorning the front. With each button, you revealed more and more skin, from the curve of your breasts to the softness of your stomach. Without turning around to hide yourself, you slipped the sleeves off your shoulders and let the light pink, tweed jacket fall to the floor.

Jiyan’s expression did not visibly change, but the color of his ears sure did. They were tinged a pretty red and you felt almost bad for teasing him.

“Are you sure you want to stay in my room at all times, Mr. Bodyguard?”

He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you but ensuring his gaze never dropped below your face. The self-control of a true bodyguard, you complimented in your head.

“Is this what your father cautioned against when he said not to scare your new bodyguard off?” retorted Jiyan, answering your question with one of his own. “Is this a common recurrence?”

You shook your head and made a face. “Ew. Never. The last guy was too old and not my type.”

Jiyan’s lip quirked up—the first time you ever noticed his expression change—before it returned to its normal position. “As opposed to me…?”

“Someone who doesn’t look old enough to be my great-uncle and is very much my type,” you confirmed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have to finish getting undressed for bed.”

You stood there in front of him in only a bra, a tweed skirt—matching your top that was discarded on the floor, naturally—and thin stockings. Slowly, you unzipped the side of your skirt and paused before it actually fell to the ground.

“Are you sure you don’t want to step away now?” you said, hesitancy creeping up on you for the first time as your fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra. While you didn’t mind Jiyan seeing you like this, you didn’t actually want to make him uncomfortable. You had some morals, after all. “No one is forcing you to go this far to protect me. I promise, you’d still be an amazing, father-approved bodyguard if you just stayed outside my room and only came to check in on me frequently…”

“I never do my job halfway,” he said firmly. “Unfortunately, with the information your father briefed me with, you never know what could lurk outside, and I am here to ensure your safety at all times. Still, I assure you I do not feel forced to watch. I could have offered to turn around while you changed. If I wanted to.”

“So you’re just being a pervert, then?” you teased.

“Says the one stripping in front of a stranger with no hesitation. Perhaps next time you should reconsider such actions.”

“You’re not a complete stranger,” you said, finally letting your short skirt fall to the floor. Innocently, you bent over to collect your dirty clothes and place them in the hamper for the maid to take care of. “You’re my bodyguard now, and a hot one at that.”

Jiyan closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to rid his mind of any indecent thoughts he may have. “Do you need to say bodyguard in such a way that makes it sound…salacious?”

Moving closer, you batted your lashes as you peered up at him. “That’s just how I normally say it.”

He sighed and muttered under his breath, “I’m here to protect you from any danger, but what about the danger you’ll pose to me?”

You laughed, not disagreeing with his words. Instead, you placed a gentle hand on his bicep and Jiyan straightened in surprise before reciprocating with his own palm on your exposed lower back.

“It’s a good thing my father will never have to know.”

#jiyan x reader #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x reader #jiyan x you #jiyan x y/n #wuwa imagines #wuwa x you #wuthering waves x you #wuwa fanfic #jiyan imagines #jiyan

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peachsukii · 4 months

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₊✩‧₊◜ a kiribaku x reader scenario that’s lived in my head for awhile now! it’s not really a formalized…anything. just fleeting thoughts. ♡ ✿ tangled hearts modern au masterlist ✿ ｡‧˚ʚ wc; ~2.6k ɞ˚‧｡

Thinking about a modern day AU with Kirishima and Bakugo settling down in the countryside for a quiet life away from the hustle of the city. They’re in their early 30s, married and happily tucked away in their own little paradise - until they meet you.

Bakugo works with his parent’s fashion agency as the director of the design department, and is a designer himself. He went to the highest credible fashion institute in Tokyo and graduated top of his class - as expected.

Kirishima is a personal trainer and owner of the local gym. He took a few business classes after high school and general fitness courses to learn all about it. He loves getting to help people and knows almost every single person in town. He also volunteers with the local fire company.

It was the ideal place for them, not too big and not too cramped. Bakugo had his own garden that he cherished while Kirishima loved the backyard for home exercising. Their home was spaced out from their neighbors and gave them the perfect amount of privacy.

The town is only an hour and change outside the city, still remaining close for friends and family by train. Bakugo mostly worked from home and only went into the city office for important meetings and press conferences. He preferred to work in his own space while designing instead of in a buzzing office where anyone could bother him - especially his parents.

Their morning routine was simple: Bakugo would wake up anytime between 6 and 6:30am, rolling out of bed to start breakfast and coffee. By the time he’s done cooking, Kirishima stumbles into the kitchen with his eyes half closed, sleepily making his way over to kiss his husband good morning. They’d sit at the table together and casually talk about their plans for the day or in silence as they enjoyed each others company.

That was all disrupted the morning Kirishima spotted you outside the gym, waiting for it to open. He didn’t recognize you like he did everyone else in town - that immediately caught his attention. Once inside, you introduced yourself and told him how you moved from the city for a new job. The two of you got to talking longer than anticipated and ended up bonding over you being new to town. Kirishima signs you up for his yoga classes the following week, excited to see you mesh with his regulars.

Bakugo’s on his lunch break later in the day at the local market to pick up his usual fresh vegetables and fruits when he spots you browsing the aisle behind him. He peeks over his glasses to see his design logo on the small tag at the hem of your tshirt. He simply smiles to himself, proud to see a garment of his in the wild, and finishes his own shopping.

───

A few weeks go by of getting to know Kirishima as you attend his classes. You’d stop and talk with him afterwards each time, slowly developing a friendship. One day after class, he casually mentions to you that his husband is a great cook and how his food rivals any five star restaurant from the city. On a whim, he invites you to dinner with him and Bakugo at their home - you agree happily. You didn’t have any friends in the area, what’s the harm in meeting people?

You arrive at their cozy home and are greeted heartily by Kirishima at the door as he puts a hand on your back and welcomes you inside. Bakugo turns his attention from the stove to the door, nodding in your direction as he continues cooking. You can’t help but think he looks…familiar.

Their place is gorgeous, tidy and clean, yet homey. There were pictures of their family and friends hung up all over alongside some simple art pieces and knick knacks. You could already tell who decorated versus who didn’t - Kirishima is definitely not the type to decorate so eloquently.

You’re gazing at one of the pictures when the realization smacks you in the face.

He’s responsible for half the clothes in your closet.

Kirishima is married to the Katsuki Bakugo of the fashion world? And you’re in his house for dinner that he’s serving to you?!

The thought makes you dizzy as your face flushes, desperately trying to hide your sudden excitement. And you chose to wear one of the dresses he designed for a collaboration years ago. What are the chances? Kirishima never told you what his husband’s name was, just that he was married.

“Y/N, I want you to meet my husband, Katsuki!” Kirishima excitedly says as he’s walking you to the kitchen. “Kat, this is Y/N. She’s the one I told ya about from my yoga class!”

The two of you lock eyes for a moment before Bakugo looks you up and down, calculating his first impression of you. He wasn’t about to tell you that he’s seen you around town before, he had to play it cool and not make it seem like he already knew you existed.

“Nice ta meet ya,” he greets before returning his attention to the stove. “Dinners just about ready. Ei, can you set the table?”

You all sit down for dinner, and it’s absolutely delicious. Kirishima was not joking about Bakugo’s cooking, every single thing you ate was delightful. You honestly don’t know if you’ve had a better meal than his.

“This is absolutely amazing, Ba-”

“Jus’ call me Katsuki.”

Him cutting you off to correct his name before you even finished saying it made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, sure. Katsuki, this is honestly one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” you repeat, picking at that last of your vegetables on your plate. “I saw a garden outside. Do you grow them yourself?”

Bakugo grins, glowing at your compliments. “Yep. Anythin’ not in season I grab from market.”

Kirishima watches the two of you interact, happy that he was right about the three of you getting along seamlessly.

You shuffle in your seat at the next pause in your conversation before deciding to ask the burning question on your mind.

“So, Katsuki…what do you do for work?”

He laughs, motioning to your sundress. “Ya don’t have to beat around the bush about it. I can spot my work from a mile away.”

That broke the ice and allowed you to relax, knowing he didn't think you were trying to impress him by wearing his own design. The night went on, way past dinner, where the three of you talked about any and everything. It felt as if they’d already known you their whole lives, the conversation never feeling forced and flowing naturally.

“Shit, I’m sorry for staying so late!” You exclaim while looking at your phone. “Didn’t mean to keep you guys up.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n! You’re welcome here anytime,” Kirishima assured, slinging his arm around Bakugo on the couch. “We’d love to have ya over for dinner again soon!”

You’re about to head out the door when Bakugo gets up from the couch and stops you. “It’s dark, lemme walk you back to your place.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you insist, but he wasn’t having it. He was already changing out of his slippers and into a pair of sneakers. He held the door open for you as you waved to Kirishima, thanking him again for having you over and that you’ll see him for class in the morning.

You and Bakugo are walking down the dimly lit street toward your apartment complex, hands in his pockets, when he strikes up another conversation about your dress.

“You didn’t need to act so shy about the dress,” he comments. “Looks good on ya.”

You can feel your cheeks get hot again, praying he can't see your reaction in the street lights. "T-thanks! I love your work. I actually have a lot of the clothes you’ve designed…what are the odds?” You trail off at the end out of nervousness, playing with the fabric of the dress.

“Yeah? Good to know.”

The two of you approach your building and he says a simple ‘good night’ as he waves, turning to head home.

There’s a weird feeling in your chest, one that you haven’t felt in a long time. A warmth that floods your body with…you can’t pinpoint it. It makes you sweat, but comforts you at the same time.

Little did you know that the boys were feeling the exact same way.

───

Months go by as the three of you become inseparable - dinners, movie nights, shopping at the market, going into the city together, meeting their friends, walking around town at sunset, picnics in the park, you name it. Kirishima and Bakugo never knew they could feel so comfortable with someone so quickly - it was as if the three of you were meant to find each other.

While the two of them are lying in bed one night, Kirishima decides to open up about his feelings. He rolls over to face Bakugo, his usual pointy hair fluffed around his face against the pillow.

“Kats, I got a question for ya. It’s kinda…weird?” He starts, fiddling with the hem of the comforter. “Do you…uhh, shit. Do you have any feelings toward Y/N?”

Bakugo flips to his side to face him. “What do y’mean?”

“Oh don’t be like that. I think she’s…really cute,” he admits, his cheeks turning rosy. “I enjoy having her around.”

Bakugo grumbles in embarrassment, pulling the comforter up to cover his face. He feels like a high school boy all over again - he just didn’t want to admit it.

They’d both fallen for you simultaneously without even saying a word. Neither of them knew why, they’ve been together for over a decade now - since their college days. No one has ever made their hearts race in sync like you do.

“I’ll take that reaction as an agreement,” Kirishima teases, poking Bakugo’s forehead through the covers. He groans again as he throws the blanket off his face.

“It’s been confusin’ the shit outta me. I love you, Ei and that doesn’t change shit, but goddamn. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” Bakugo admits, face and ears burning hot.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you have a crush!” He scoots closer to Bakugo and kisses him on the forehead. “Haven’t seen that side of ya since college.”

Bakugo bats at him playfully, pushing him away as he whines, “Shut the fuck up!”

“So…what do we do about it?” Kirishima’s question hangs in the air between them, heavy…but alluring.

───

The next few times you hang out with the boys, you can tell that things feel a little more…intense? If that was the right word, the feeling was foreign. You found yourself becoming more physical with the two of them, and each time gave you butterflies. You weren’t quite sure what was going on until that fateful night.

It was a dreary night, the remnants of the storm passing through the town. The rain was no longer a torrential downpour and had tapered off into a sprinkle, enough to allow you to walk home safely. You’re heading for the door as Bakugo catches up to you, umbrella in hand.

“Y’know the drill, I’m not lettin’ ya walk home alone. Especially when it’s still raining.”

“Kat, you hate the rain, it’s fine,” you argue, but know it’s pointless. Bakugo waves at Kirishima and you notice Kirishima’s smile is extra wide tonight…and did he wink?

He closes the door behind the two of you and opens the umbrella on the porch, slinging an arm around your shoulders to huddle you under its protection.

The walk to your apartment is silent, an unknown tension lingering in the air. The subtle flexing of Bakugo’s fingers on your shoulder is driving you wild, a simple touch was enough to ignite the fire in your gut. Reaching your apartment complex, you stop to thank him for walking you home like always, but something else spills from your lips instead.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Bakugo’s taken aback by your question, confused where this has come from. “What? No, not at all. Why?”

“I…just don’t wanna make you two uncomfortable,” you whisper, eyes cast to the ground. “I really like you two…and don’t want to come between y-”

The umbrella clatters to the ground as Bakugo throws it to the side, letting the rain pelt against the both of you as one hand pulls you into him by the waist and the other under your chin.

“That’s right where we want ya,” he speaks against your lips. He hesitates, tilting his head back and looking directly in your eyes. “Tell me to back off, and I will. We can act like-”

This time, you cut him off by putting a hand on the back of his head and one on his chest, pulling him to meet your lips. The world stops around you as the rain trickles down your faces and vaguely into your kiss. You tangle your arms around each other’s bodies, illuminated by the soft street lights as your clothes become heavier with rainwater. After what feels like ages, you part, catching the breath you’ve stolen from each other’s lungs.

No words are spoken as Bakugo takes your hand, tugging you back down the road toward their place. You giggle and begin to run with excitement, skipping through the rain with him all the way back. Throwing open the front door, you both take a step inside, soaking wet from the rain. Kirishima glances over from the couch, shocked to see you return with Bakugo.

“Woah! What happened to you two?” he asks, concerned yet intrigued. He then notices you’re holding hands, and it clicks.

You’re stripping the wet clothes from your body faster than you can chicken out of doing so, letting them plop on the floor of the foyer until you’re left in your bra and underwear. Bakugo follows suit and trails behind you as you make your way over to Kirishima on the couch. You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders, sliding into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist anxiously, scared you’ll shatter under his touch.

“It’s okay, Eiji,” you coo, leaning down to his ear. “You can touch me.”

You turn back to Bakugo as he’s sitting next the two of you on the couch, reaching a hand out to stroke his cheek. “Katsuki can, too.”

That’s all the permission they need to devour you all night long - over and over again like a drug they couldn’t get enough of. Brief naps in between, each time better than the last. Hands tangled in hair, lips kissing skin in sinful places, and noises only the three of you could orchestrate together.

That was the night their lives changed forever, thanks to you. Things were easy and simple between the three of you - you blended into their routines perfectly as the weeks progressed. Waking up between the two of them each morning was heavenly, especially when they fought over who got to cuddle you through the night. Bakugo usually won that fight until he would go make breakfast, then Kirishima would tuck you under his arm and hold you close.

Everything was so easy between you three, you were the missing puzzle piece in their lives that they didn’t know was absent.

You were theirs, and they were yours - simple as that. They wouldn’t trade their newfound goddess for the world.

i immediately think of @pastelbakugou & @kweenkatsuki-fics when it comes to kiribaku x reader, thank you for being my inspirations! 💜

next entry: delicate (isn’t it?)

#☆.tangledhearts #katsuki bakugo #eijiro kirishima #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku fluff #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugo imagine #kirishima imagine #kiribaku imagine

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jimblejamblewritings · 22 days

Text

love letters and second sons | part 4.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes)

Warnings for this part: smut

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

The cloak wrapped around you felt like velvet. The softness between your fingers calmed you down significantly. Reynolds grabbed your hand after the fifth time you balled it up in your skirts. You looked up to see your three valets trying to hide the concern on their faces. You could have an incident or get caught or both. None of those three options were ideal or even good.

“Do I look decent?” you asked as the carriage got closer and closer to the party.

“You look perfect.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t wear the mask?”

“You don’t have to but keep it on you.”

You agreed, exiting the carriage with a letter from the princess version of you — complete with a wax seal — that was basically a pass to enter any establishment no matter what. Spotting Penelope and Colin out of the corner of your eye, you breathed out a sigh of relief and ran over to them. Both of them wore wide smiles at your surprise arrival. They had been expecting a letter or something to signal your arrival back from Ireland.

You were sad to hear about Marina not joining you all for this evening. It would have been nice to know her more than a little bit in between the courting of suitors. But there would be more times to meet and catch up later. Plus, hearing your friends’ stories of their daily lives proved to be a good enough distraction. You let them go after a while so Colin could escort Penelope to the dance floor like he promised to do after a run in with Cressida Cowper.

Looking around, you failed to immediately locate the rest of the Bridgerton children. You grabbed a drink from the lemonade table and began to wander. The alcohol had looked appealing but you had never drank, afraid of the consequences if drink mixed with your illness. Someday you’d try some but not after an episode. Never right after one.

On the outskirts of the party, still close enough to hear the music, you ran into Benedict. He gave you a smile and the same surprised look on his face as Penelope and Colin. You leaned in closer to hear him over the deafening melodies of the orchestra. Small talk that was mainly about your fictitious trip made up the first half of your conversation. After a while, you grew comfortable with each other as if you never left.

“The lights are beautiful,” he commented, staring at the small lantern display that a scientist presented.

You nodded. “We have some at the palace. They add more day by day but it would be nice if all of London, maybe all of the world, had these little lights. How has your art been?”

“Not terribly well. Nothing seems to be good enough.”

“Well, what are you drawing?”

“Still life. I can’t expect my free drawings to be good if I can’t depict what is right in front of me.”

“You are too hard on yourself, Benedict seriously,” you argued when he scoffed. “Sometimes we have a problem seeing our own greatness. You ju—”

“Would you ever consider marriage to someone, me, perhaps?”

You choked on your lemonade. “Pardon?”

“Apologies.” He finally turned to look at you. “With Daphne out in society, people have started looking at Anthony and because my dear brother does not care to at least pretend to be a proper viscount, they have started to look at me. Ravenous mamas are eyeing me and it must be a matter of time before they talk to me.”

You laughed. “You still call me Miss Keaton yet you want me to help you through a marriage?”

“Wait, what is your name, actually? If you are to continue being a friend of the family then I am at liberty to refer to you by first name.”

“Bergamot. My parents were a bit too keen on gardens.”

“That is a lovely name.”

“Thank you… I still won’t marry you.”

Benedict scrunched up his face as he bent over to try and plead with you. “Please! I can’t be out here with the wolves.”

You patted him on the shoulder. “Your whining, no matter how pathetic and cute, will not work. I will see you tomorrow, alright.”

He muttered something that you didn’t hear while you took off into the gardens for a stroll. You’d have to leave soon, pressing your luck wasn’t the way to go. You put your cloak back on and closed it to hide your dress completely as you finally put your mask on. The gardens at night were very beautiful. Perhaps because you were alone.

You chuckled at the thought of your interaction with Benedict. Even if it happened only a few moments ago, it was hysterical. It was only funnier because you were sure that when you finally introduced yourself to society, you’d get even stranger proposals. Only they wouldn’t be to avoid hungry mamas. And they wouldn’t be coming from one of your friends.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too upset with you. Hyacinth would never but she was more like a little sister than a friend. Benedict would think the whole situation is funny, hopefully. Daphne might as well. Eloise and Penelope could go either way. Anthony would probably be mad that you let him attempt to woo the princess when you knew the truth which would make Colin and Gregory and Francesca mad at you as well. But maybe it would be fine after you explained everything.

The sound of voices caught your attention. Spying was wrong but you couldn’t help yourself. You started to walk into the hedges, ignoring the twigs catching everywhere. The view wasn’t the best but you could see well enough. What could be a scandal between Daphne Bridgerton and Nigel Berbrooke seemed to be a very different scene to you because you knew the man from her letters. You tightened the mask around you just in case you needed to leave the bushes.

Nigel kept coming close to Daphne. You began to run when he grabbed her, thinking of how to protect your friend. You’d have to hit him. That was the only option. There was nothing else you could do about it… You paused as Daphne pulled her hand back. There was Nigel Berbrooke on the ground. After being punched.

You and Daphne looked up from Nigel to see the Duke of Hastings running into the garden clearing as well. The two of them seemed to realize that you were the princess and you were in the garden with them having witnessed everything. They bowed to you deeply, something you returned.

“I will survey the area. If I do not return then you two may safely leave the garden.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“It is no trouble really. I am so sorry for your distress, Miss Bridgerton, and I do hope your hand feels better in the morning.”

You did a thorough check of the area to make sure that Daphne wasn’t compromised before fleeing to your carriage before anyone could spot the mask. Assuring your valets nothing went wrong, you closed the carriage door and let it drive back to Kew.

“Thank you,” you said as you took off your mask and cloak and opened the carriage window since it was night.

“For what?”

“For making me go out tonight. I did need it. I feel better, immensely.”

“That is good. We are glad to hear it. Will you be going out again tomorrow?”

“Just to the Bridgertons.”

“Oh, to home then.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue because they were right. Being at the Bridgertons felt like home more than your own at times. Maybe because your mother and father were the only ones who even tried to be a proper family. But there was no trying with the Bridgertons. They just were family.

That much was true when you walked into the house a lot later than the early morning to see everyone but Eloise in the drawing room, talking about Daphne and the Duke. You said hello, greeted by hugs from everyone who didn’t see you yesterday. You took the plate of toast from Violet, who was trying to get her daughter to eat, and shoved the bread under Daphne’s nose. She took a bite before actually grabbing it from you. Relieved of your mother bird duties, you plopped down on the couch in between Benedict and Colin.

“What are your plans for today?”

“Fencing and then a gentlemen’s club and then preparing for a party tomorrow and, dreadfully, a picnic the next day,” Colin said as he handed you a chocolate from the box on the side table.

“May I watch?”

“Of course. A beautiful lady will only encourage us.”

“Since when did you learn to be a flirt?”

He just shrugged, sitting back to listen to Daphne play the pianoforte and tease her about the duke. You clapped at the end of her piece and requested a second one that she obliged. Daphne would have to play at the palace some time or at least at Kew. She sounded lovely. Closing your eyes, you just listened for a moment.

“How does a lady come to be with child?”

Your eyes flew open to see Eloise standing in front of everyone. Violet jumped up from her brief moment of sitting on the couch across from you.

“Eloise, what a question!”

“I thought marriage was a requirement.”

Daphne tilted her head. “What?”

“Apparently, it’s not even a requirement.”

“Eloise.”

“Mama, the princess did say all young women nearing their debut should learn.”

Violet stuttered as she took the tray of food out of the room, forcing Hyacinth and Gregory to go with her, stating she’d be back in a moment she just needed some water. She turned back for a moment.

“Daphne, dear, do go on. I’d like to hear some calming music when we return.”

Eloise trudged over to the couch, sitting on the other side of Benedict. She smacked her brothers’ knees but neither one of them wanted to answer her directly. Colin turned his head.

“Have you ever visited a farm, El?”

You laughed as Benedict smacked the back of Colin’s head but stopped when Eloise slumped down in her seat. You tapped her on the shoulder, making her perk up again. Your hand rested on Benedict’s thigh so you could prop yourself up as you leaned over him.

Covering your mouth and Eloise’s ear, you began whispering to your friend everything you thought she needed to know about sex. Unable to help himself, Benedict leaned in to spy, surprised that your information was actually correct. You weren’t lying, the Princess’ court really taught all the valets everything. Eloise sat back, finally satisfied and a lot less worried about a spontaneous pregnancy. Until she became curious again.

“But why would anyone want to initiate it? Who wants to be with child?”

You leaned over once again. “No one wants to be with child. Even those who want children. It’s about the pleasure. Sometimes the pleasure of actually liking someone and other times the pleasure being about nothing but you.”

“What?”

“The… think about when you start breathing a bit heavier, feeling warm when you touch each other, a… I’ll tell you the rest when your brothers aren’t here. It is a bit awkward. Oh, I’ll even draw you pictures. Only a certain amount of posit— mov— steps are important. The rest you should figure out with your husband.”

“So you do truly know what you’re talking about?” Benedict interrupted the nearly finished meeting.

“Did you doubt me?”

“A bit,” he admitted.

You sat back down. “Men aren’t the only ones that know what they are talking about.”

“Sorry to offend.”

“No offense. None at all. I expect even the kindest and smartest and prudest of men to think such things.”

“Well, I am still sorry. If not because of offense then because of my ignorance.”

You squeezed his thigh in appreciation. Benedict laid his hand on top of yours. The two of you stayed like that for a moment until his hand held onto yours a bit tighter. He turned to look at you. There was an understanding shared between your eyes. There was no breathing heavy or loving eyes. It was for both of you but in purely selfish pleasurable ways.

“Are you coming to watch our fencing match?” Benedict asked.

“Yes.” At that he moved your hand closer to his private. “A bit after the calling hour starts. I like to watch the men make fools of themselves.”

“I am not surprised by that at all.”

“Shall we wait for you?”

You closed the gap and placed your hand over the top of Benedict’s pants. “No. You may start without me and I’ll just come when I find the time.”

“Okay. We’ll play again soon, maybe even another game today. So don’t be too bothered if you miss us playing for your calling hour.”

Giving an experimental squeeze, you watched the man next to you nod ever so slightly and swallow his spit before moving your hand himself. You both relaxed into the couch completely, satisfied with your understanding. The two men left when Violet came back — it was fairly obvious that calling hour was about to start. The calling hour was several hours but at some point you had just dropped the s and you weren’t sure why.

You thought it would be only one or two men but the duke seemed to have lit a fire under the other men’s feet. The line became rather long rather quickly. You were happy for Daphne. The more men the better. Maybe she could get a love match.

You took the last bouquet of flowers for Daphne, thanked Lord Colfield, and went to go put the flowers in a vase on the fireplace mantle. You were about to tell Daphne that you were leaving to see her brothers’ fencing match when Anthony came storming in. A gasp escaped you when Nigel Berbrooke came up behind. You were completely over this little man and his obsession.

Without thinking, you approached Anthony. “What do you think you ar— Anthony, you and Nigel need to either leave the drawing room as this is your sister’s calling hour or wait in line if he is here to call? These lords and gentlemen have waited a great deal to talk to her and they are very patient. It is not right nor just nor of any class to disrespect the patience they have shown.”

“Nigel?” Berbrooke scoffed. “Who do think yo—”

“The Young Princess’ valet. She’s become a family friend,” Anthony cut Nigel off.

At least Berbrooke had the decency to be surprised and then give you a bow. Their tunes towards you changed completely as they almost looked like they were going to wait their turn or just leave. Nigel smiled.

“Callers were unexpected as we have already been talking extensively.”

“Lord Berbrooke is the only man who proposed and therefore the only person I consider.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You looked at Anthony.

“He is the on—”

“Everyone! I am very sorry but you must leave. Miss Bridgerton’s calling hour is currently closed. Please leave your name with Heroldt, starting with the order you have been waiting, and two days from now we will continue.” You turned to Anthony as everyone filed out without complaint since they thought the princess was the reason for calling hour being over. “There. Now, Lord Berbrooke, I must speak with the Bridgertons alone. I hope that speech staved off the wolves for you if only for two days while matters are discussed.”

“Thank you, Lady…”

“Miss Keaton,” Anthony answered. “Thank you, Bergamot. Lord Berbrooke, do you need me to escort you?”

“No, no. You have business. I can find the front door on my own.”

The moment he left, you, Daphne, and Violet descended on Anthony. Every word that came out of Anthony’s mouth made you scoff. Violet looked between all three of you, very upset. Anthony was ruining both Daphne’s prospects as well as his own prospects with the princess. And you were there to witness it all.

You backed Daphne on everything. Even if she was wrong, Nigel was a foul man that you would never allow to marry. You approached Anthony, speaking lowly although your friend and her mother could still hear it.

“I hope you survive whatever poison you are drinking. Whether the Duke is a serious man or not, there are plenty of serious men here. You will not sign away your sister to such a foul man that you barely know as well and pretend it is in her best interest. And you will not expect her to be understanding or appreciative when you don’t care an ounce for your sister’s happiness. And you still wish to draw up a marriage contract? Please, just think for a moment… Good day, Viscount Bridgerton.”

You stormed out of the drawing room and straight into the backyard where Colin and Benedict were handing their fencing gear back to a servant. They noticed the furrow in your brow. Benedict clicked his tongue.

“I will find out what is wrong. You, brother, instruct the kitchen to leave something out for us. If there is crying then we will be long.”

Benedict practically dragged you to the far side of the backyard. He knew no one would think anything of it when you were very angry about something Anthony did — that part was loud enough for everyone to hear. He looked at you when the two of you finally stopped.

“Was that a ploy to get away? Or are you genuinely mad at my brother?”

“I don’t want to talk about why I’m mad at Anthony. There’s nothing you can do anyway. Not without a good scandal… Sorry, I came out here for a fencing match. Let us focus on it. On you.”

He took your hand again, placing it over his trousers. You began to rub it back and forth, the fabric between you guys creating friction. You reached into his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it a bit more freely. Benedict pulled you closer. His hand reached around your ass to squeeze it.

Every time you stroked him closer to finishing he would squeeze harder than before. You watched his face the entire time. If you got back exactly what you were giving him then you would be a very happy woman. It was truly going to be about selfish pleasure for both of you.

You gasped when he all but ripped the top part of the dress as he tried to push it all down to expose your breasts. He wanted something else to stare at that would get him off even quicker. You tried to stifle any moans threatening to escape your lips as he groped you — some of the marks so hard you were sure they would be a bit red until tomorrow. This was his turn. Yours would be later. If you both tried to get pleasure at the same time... Well, that's how people fall in love. The two of you weren't stupid to test that.

Benedict moaned and for a moment both of you were worried someone would come see what was the matter. He laughed underneath your hand covering his mouth.

A shudder went through him and he grabbed your wrist. “I’m going to come. I-if you let g-go… just in m-my britches.”

You dropped to your knees, shocking your friend. He grabbed your head with one hand while he bit down on the other until he finished. A very gentle touch lifted you up. He wiped stray bits of lipstick from around your mouth, wiping the evidence away on the inside of his vest.

“I have to say I did not expect you to sit down for the last round of fencing. We were done anyway.”

“Well, I wanted to help put up the equipment so we could all relax later. Plus, if the princess does choose to invite you all to Kew then I would like you to help put up the equipment there too.”

Benedict laughed.

“I promise whether I win or lose. The next time we have a round of fencing, I will put up the equipment. All of it.”

He leaned down to whisper.

“Even if you are not a lover, I would never have you on the ground, sullying your pretty gowns and body..." He squeezed your breasts one last time before helping pull your dress back up. "with grass and dirt stains. I promise I’ll bring you your pleasure next time we are inside and alone. I will leave first and retire to my room. You stay out here and eat the sandwiches the cook left. I won’t be able to return for at least an hour.”

“Okay. I have to go see the Featheringtons and Miss Thompson anyway.”

You did just as Benedict suggested and no one even gave you a suspicious look. You took your own sweet time going across the street. You had moved the physician and all of Wednesdays special tutors to Tuesdays so you would have more time in the city. Despite not wanting any visitors, you were the obvious exception and could go upstairs to see Marina. She looked up from her writing desk when Penelope announced she was coming with a visitor.

The three of you gathered on the bed to share a plate of sweets. You mainly listened to Marina and Penelope, not having much to add. You wanted to figure out a way to help her. Trying to meddle in daily affairs and save the lives of one subject at a time seemed almost ridiculous. But, that was what you should do as a royal.

“Did you say Spain?”

“Yes. That’s where all of George’s letters are coming from at the moment. They all say Spain.”

“If you ever need a letter to Spain or to anywhere else they send Sir George, just let me know. The princess wants to help her subjects, especially women, so give me a letter and I’ll give it to her. Whenever you need.”

Marina flung herself at you. “Thank you. If there shall ever be a problem, I promise I will say such.”

“Oh, the princess is going back to the palace for a few weeks because of something important so I won’t be so available for a little bit.”

“What will she be there for?”

“You will find out when it happens.”

The two of them giggled. “You are so mysterious.”

You were tired after an exhausting day but a letter you received from a footman that same day made you get up. Anthony had given you a key to the front and back garden gates as well as the back door that led into the kitchen. You entered through the backyard so you could actually get inside the house without waking the entire house with your knocking. You only needed Violet and Daphne. And you had a letter to leave just in case you couldn’t wake a single person.

Voices made you pause. You recognized Eloise and Benedict talking. Instead of going any further, you just listened. Eloise — like so many other women — wanted better for herself. It had never been a question of something you would plead to your brother… You sighed. You knew your brother. It was time to stop thinking of him as the heir. There was a reason everyone was going to support Younger Charlotte’s claim over her father. And Young Charlotte listened to you. She planned on making you her advisor. There would be no pleading. You would make better laws for women.

You didn’t want to disturb them too much so you flung the letter at Benedict’s head. Running as fast as you could, you ignored their confused calling out for you once they recognized the letter coming from the princess. Hopefully, Benedict or Eloise would get the letter to their mother before Nigel could come back.

Dear Dowager Viscountess,

I am nothing but my mother’s daughter and therefore it is, in fact, my job to meddle in the lives of our precious subjects for a better and more peaceful United Kingdom. Miss Keaton has told me much of your troubles in regards to a man called Lord Nigel Berbrooke. I don’t have much information on him but I do have a request that I would ask you to aid your princess in.

I recall an acquaintance of his. A maid. She used to work at the palace but asked for a job in the ton so she could be closer to her aging parents. I believe she was employed by a neighbor of the Berbrookes? Or a friend? Or maybe them, who knows. She was supposed to come back two years after they died but has yet to return. Nigel or one of his neighbors must know. Or perhaps, his mother, she’s very close to the maids. Knows every single one of them by name. I care terribly for this maid and would like her working back at the palace.

Please meet with his mother. She loves crumpets with any sort of preserves or a chocolate dipping sauce. It was all she wanted when she requested a meeting with my second brother.

That is all I have to say. I do look forward to seeing your family properly.

Yours Truly,

Princess Y/N Kew

P.S. Please tell Anthony that it took him long enough but I am proud he finally came to his senses. If only he can learn to listen to a woman first then he might have less problems.

You smiled to yourself as you sat in the kitchens. The staff couldn’t stop talking about Nigel Berbrooke’s bastard that he doesn’t take care of and the mother he sent away before she even gave birth. You would feel bad but you had a very personal and up-close view of the man’s real personality. The morning only got better when Brimsley and Reynolds came in with Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers. It was on the front page of the pamphlets. Absolutely worth paying the two pounds per pamphlet for everyone in the Kew household.

“Do you think he’ll ever show his face again?”

“No,” the cook said as she handed you your breakfast. “You did a good thing for Miss Bridgerton, Your Grace.”

“Your Grace?”

“It is just a title we are trying out.”

You hummed suspiciously. The cook ignored you.

“You better pack if you don’t want to be late for the carriage coming today.”

You nearly forgot. The reason you couldn’t hang out with the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons arrived. Your cousin Friedrich, the prince of Prussia, was coming for a visit. He agreed to marry a British girl to strengthen the alliances and prove that Prussia and Britain were still close family. It was neither a complete truth or a complete lie. The entire family was not close. But you, your cousin, your father, your mother, and your aunt were very close.

Sneaking out wasn’t an option. You thought that much as the carriage neared Buckingham. It had been a while since you snuck out the palace — a completely different thing from simply leaving Kew. Pandora, Brimsley, or Reynolds would sneak you your letters and you would be satisfied. Besides, even though your family was coming for an indefinite amount of time, you only had to stay a week or to.

The carriage hadn’t even stopped completely before you ran to hug your cousin. It had been years since you last saw each other. You could hear your mothers laughing in the background. They left to have tea inside while the two of you stayed out.

Friedrich took your hand in the crook of his arm. “Come, cousin, let us take a promenade. Have you been well?”

“I have been better. However, I am doing well.”

“And your illness?”

“Not better. But I haven’t had an episode that I couldn't recover from on my own.”

“That is good. I suppose that is the best we can ask for. Especially since I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

“I asked Aunt Charlotte and she agreed to let the princess accompany me to events as she knows the ton better than the both of us. You have to wear your mask but it is still a good deal.”

“It is a wonderful deal.”

“Good. The first event is a ball tonight.”

“Tonight?! But I’m not prepared.”

“I’ve already had everything arranged.”

“You planned this?”

“I figured it would do you good to get some fresh air and get out of the palace… or Kew, now.”

“Thank you, Friedrich. Seriously, thank you.”

(part 5)

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@fredsbetch @cherrylovers-world @chrystinaamanda @grassclippers @flyestvenustrap @spookystitchery @lovelyygirl8 @ben-has-arrived @tragically-hipp @cherrysxuya @alowint @jackierose902109 @boojaynaqueen @thesparkling-diamond27 @intothesoul

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#benedict x reader #benedict fluff #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton smut

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elordilover · 4 months

Note

Hii! Could you write a walker scobell x actress reader fic where she's new to acting and her first acting role is in the pjo show? Thank you!!

i love this!! thanks so much for the request! 💐

more than best friends

pairing: walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: you are casted as annabeth for the pjo series and become best friends with your co-star, walker.

warnings: nothing really! not proof read, reader plays annabeth in the seires, half social media

————————————————————————

yourusername- i am so honored to finally tell you that am part of this project! this cast has become family. i’m so excited for everyone to watch it, meet you at camp half-blood: december 20th 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- so honored to be able to work with you, and call you my best friend 💐♥️

percyjacksonseries- ⚡️⚡️⚡️

view more comments……..

—————

everyone on the cast just announced their spots in the series, it was your first time doing this so you were a bit nervous. you watched your phone as all the positive comments started to roll in.

you heard the door to your trailer open and saw a familiar face, walker. you would never admit this to anyone, but you did sort of have a crush on him. but you had to put the admiration to the side now that he was your co-star.

“Y/N, do you want to go grab food since we’re done shooting for the day?”, he asked you.

“sure! where are we going?”, you replied as you got up and started exiting your trailer.

“i don’t know, in-n-out?”

“yeah, sure”, you said as you walked to the car.

the whole car ride was filled with scream-singing to one direction songs, it was amazing. the light that shined through his hair made you admire him even more. how the sunshine made his eyes sparkle. the way his smile grew when you were both singing along to the music that shaped both of your childhoods. you had always dreamed of nights like this, now they became your reality. your only wish was that he would see you as more than a friend.

—————

the next day you arrived to set early and we r straight to the hair and makeup trailer, which was were walker was also. you couldn’t wait to see him.

“hey Y/N, how are you?” walker asked as you walked through the door.

“i’m good, a little tired tho, how about you?” you replied.

“i’m good!”, he said.

you two fell into easy conversation while getting makeup done, or getting your hair fixed. it was always easy with him, you always felt safe and at home while you were with walker. it was just something about him.

—————

“action!”, you heard and immediately started to act out your scene with walker. it was going to be in the finale episode, where you place your necklace around his neck. it was supposed to be a little romantic, but it shouldn’t have affected you this much.

walker’s deep blue eyes stared you down, your cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of red. it was embarrassing, everyone on set would notice your admiration toward walker.

walker started laughing, most likely from your eye contact. almost every scene you guys shot together ended up like this, you and walker would burst out laughing. almost every scene had to be reshot many many times.

you shot the scene again and again until it was perfect. your cheeks still burning many minutes after.

—————

after many long hours of shooting, walker entered into your trailer to hang out with you. it had become a nightly ritual for you guys. you would lay on your couch and scroll on tiktok, showing each other the funniest ones.

after minutes of scrolling walker tilted his phone toward you. you noticed the tiktok featured you and walker. it was an edit shipping you two. it used clips from different moments from the press tour, and red carpet events.

“i mean… it’s a good edit”, you said nervously. you secretly loved seeing tiktok’s like these.

“yeah i agree, it’s one of the better ones i’ve seen. we look pretty good together, we make a great team”, walker replied not knowing how that last sentence would effect you.

“we sure do”, you agreed as both you and walker’s cheeks turned red.

—————

the other members of the cast had noticed how close you and walker had gotten, when you weren’t together, you guys were texting, and if you weren’t texting, you were probably asleep. aryan had brought it up to you last week, he said how everyone saw how you guys looked at each other, and how you were both always blushing when you had scenes together. you didn’t believe him though.

—————

filming had come to an end and you were definitely going to miss your new best friends, especially walker. you two had agreed to call and text as much as you could till you could be back together for the press tour.

—————

yourusername- filming this show was the best experience of my life, thank you to everyone who was involved in creating this amazing series. love you all ♥️

the first two episodes are out now! 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- SO EXCITED‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- oh my god

walkerfan- Y/N’s feeding us with this bts content

Y/Nfan- it’s sooooooo good

walkerscobell- first two episodes. out now. 🌩️🌊

i love everyone on this cast so much, they have become my family, so so so thankful for everyone who got me here

yourusername- GO BEST FRIEND ‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- watching rn.

walkerfan13- PERCYBETH 😭😭😭

Y/Nfan- Y/N X WALKER CONTENT 🎉

—————

after the cast party, you decided to go over to walker’s place before your parents came and got you.

“hey Y/N, i kind of wanted to tell you something”, walker said nervously, “ever since i first met you you’ve inspired me so much and i just wanted to say that i really like you, in more than a friend way”, he rambled out.

you thought you were dreaming, no way he just said that. you stared at him for a second before kissing him, it was just a simple peck but you hope it got your point across.

“wait, you like me too?”

“of course, of course i do” you replied, noticing how red walker’s cheeks were.

he leaned in and gave you another kiss, you couldn’t believe this was real life.

—————

after a couple of months, many interviews, many nights on facetime, many ship edits being sent to each other, many days of secretly dating. you both decided to make your relationship public.

yourusername- my mom approves

comments on this post have been limited…..

walkerscobell- percybeth irl

comments on this post have been limited……

————————————————————————

thanks for reading, please send feedback and more requests!

🎀🧡🐞🫀⭐️🥥🫶🏻🐝🪻🪩🌎🪷🥿🫧🫐🧿🪞

#walker scobell x reader #writing #walker scobell fanfiction #walker scobell x you #walker scobell fluff #walker scobell fic #walker #scobell #fluff #social media fic #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fluff #x reader

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macsmoods · 1 year

Note

can I request a hobie brown x fem! spider person and they kinda adopt miles and gwen. They see them and they’re like “yep these are our kids now.”

FOUND FAMILY

Hobie Brown

Summary: You and Hobie have been together for about 6 months now. When Miguel introduces everyone to the new recruits there’s an immediate liking between the 4 of you. Soon you and Hobie find yourselves becoming protective.

not edited—requests:open ——————————————————————— •“I’m excited. It been awhile since we got new recruits” you said excitedly walking to the conference room. You hands were locked together as you swung them back and fourth.

“Me to. Hopefully there not jack asses like the last to.” you nodded in agreement as he finished talking.

You flashed Miguel a smile which he, obviously, didn’t return. You sat down next to Hobie. You leg bounced up and down nervously as you waited for miguel to begin.

“Calm down darling.” hobie said placing a hand on your knee. Although it had been half a year of being together he still found simple ways to make you blush.

“Alright let’s begin.” miguel yelled out. “As you know we have 2 new recruits. They will be treated with respect and won’t be treated indifferently. Understood?” he said looking at Hobie.

“He touched my hair alright. What i did was in the right. Plus he only fractured his wrist, nothing worse” a hobie explained hand in the air in defense.

Miguel rolled his eyes before beginning again. “Alright please give a warm welcome to Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy.” Everyone watched as they walked in.

Gwen was short and had shaved part of her head. It seemed it had been died with different colors. Miles seemed tall enough with a black and red suit.

You watched as Miles gave a timid wave seeming nervous while Gwen smiled confidently.

“Ok go sit down.” Miguel said in a bored tone. You waved them over to the seats next to you.

They walked over sitting. “Hi i’m y/n and this is my boyfriend Hobie.” you said extending your hand.

They both shook it smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you.” gwen said. You took your focus back to miguel. You grabbed Hobies hand with a smile as you sat next your new friends. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•“Gwen! Get down from there people are staring!” you scolded as the blonde stepped off the table. “It’s not a joke Gwen you could get hurt.” Gwen and Miles laughed as you and Hobie glared.

“ok mother dearest.” gwen retorted sarcastically.

“I swear they never listen.” you whispered to Hobie. He grabbed your hand squeezing it.

“It’s ok darling. It’s just a phase.” you smiled at that. Quickly it was wiped from your face as you heard a gag.

Miles and Gwen were faking vomiting. “Ok guys real mature.” Hobie said.

“Bye mom. Bye dad.” They said leaving the table.

“Get back here now!” Hobie yelled. You gripped his hand as they walked away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ • “What were you two even thinking!” you said slamming your hands on the desk. “First you leave this dimension without telling us an then you show up at a fight you were told not to be at by multiple people.” you yelled.

“You could have gotten hurt, or worse killed. So not only would you cause great grief to me and y/n you would also be causing a huge disruption in your dimension!” Hobie yelled.

Gwen scoffed at that. “Would you like to say something?” you snarled.

“This is bullshit! You aren’t are parents so stop acting like it. We are adults who can make are own decisions.” Gwen yelled. “Cmon miles we’re leaving.” They both stood up.

“No i don’t think so! Get the fuck back here!” you yelled but they were already out the door and down the hall. “fuck” you whispered.

Hobie pulled you into a hug kissing your head. Hot tears spilled on your cheeks. “Are we really that bad Hobie?” you whimpered.

“No baby. It’ll take some time before they realize why we’re here. We may not be there real parents but they need someone to take care of them here.” hobie said.

He leaned down attaching your guys lips. “Cmon we have to get to the meeting.” you sighed.

You walked down the hall making it to Miguel’s office. Both you and Hobie stood in. the corner ready to listen.

“There’s a new anomaly!” miguel’s voice echoed through the office. All the spiders went quiet. “For this mission I will need Y/n, Hobie, Gwen, Miles, and Peter. B. That is all. The following people will be debriefed by me. Others please make your way to Lyla for further instruction.”

Your squad walked towards Miguel as he sat atop at his desk. The tension was high as you watched Gwen and Miles move further from you and a hobie.

“There being jackasses. Don’t let them bother you.” Hobie leaned down and whispered. You smiled as Miguel began.

“This new anomaly is one we have seen only few times. The plan is simple. Take it down. We leave right now.” at that Miguel stepped into the portal. Miles and Gwen quickly followed leaving you, Hobie and Peter entering last.

Immediately you saw them already fighting. Quickly running you began to bring civilians to safety. Miguel and Peter could handle the anomaly.

You and Hobie worked together swinging grabbing anyone they could bringing them to safety. Gwen and Miles were doing the same, well you hoped they were.

You noticed a small child in the middle of it all scared. You swung and ducked grabbing him by his waist lifting him into the air. You found a safe place where people could help him.

Running back to the scene you noticed it had quieted down.

“damn that was a quick one.” you commented walking up to Hobie. His eyes were glossed over. “Hey what’s wrong hun.” you looked in his direction to see Peter and Miguel trying to move a bus.

“Hey what’s going on.” you yelled running over. You attached webs attempting to help.

“Gwen. Miles. Bus.” miguel muttered.

“no, no , no!” you yelled. You pulled and pulled Hobie joining. “God damnit you stupid kids!” you’d creamed. With one last pull the bus flew out of the way.

You and Hobie ran towards them pulling rubble off them. “Miles, Geen cmon let’s wake up ok. Your gonna be okay. It all gonna be fine.” Hobie pleaded shaking them. Your eyes blurred as you watched.

“Y/n, Hobie.” Gwen choked out.

“Oh my poor girl!” you cried throwing yourself around her. “Oh Miles!”you yelled embracing him as he sat up. Hobie wrapped his arms around you guys as well.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry i’m a horrible person. All the shit i said. We really do see you as our parents. We need you guys.” Gwen cried.

“shhhh it’s gonna be ok. We are all ok.” Hobie whispered hugging everyone even tighter. ———————————————————————

Authors note

This was so cute to write. Such a fun request hopefully i delivered it well. Should i do any other fandom one shots? ( ex. obx,marvel,etc.)

sincerely,

macsmoods🌊🫧

#across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #hobie brown #miguel o'hara #miles molares #miles morales x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown fluff

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sully-s · 3 months

Text

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?”

#Shit I'm never going to write #Fic Idea rambling #Silly Ideas #Superbat #The Flash #Batman #Superman #Burcie Wayne #bruce wayne #Messing Around #DCAU #Stupidly long #I'm great at parties ;)

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium.

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does.

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy.

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people.

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us.

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy.

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day.

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left.

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought.

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?”

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late.

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you.

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you’d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive.

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over.

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back.

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

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