#and see what she thinks when she’s alone

[lucyandthepen]

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !! 

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway. 

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable. 

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire. 

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more. 

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you. 

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.” 

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.” 

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?” 

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.” 

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.” 

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.” 

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily. 

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at. 

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it. 

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together. 

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try. 

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features. 

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question. 

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors. 

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips. 

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.” 

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles. 

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.” 

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.” 

“what kind of rewards did she give you?” 

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused. 

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.” 

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is. 

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile. 

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly. 

“you were serious about that?” he laughs. 

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next. 

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.” 

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so. 

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking. 

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.” 

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that. 

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused. 

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours. 

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact. 

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you. 

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one. 

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features. 

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?” 

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins. 

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.” 

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading. 

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.” 

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.” 

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand. 

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words. 

“tell me what you really want, then.” 

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. 

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later. 

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it. 

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders. 

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced. 

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.” 

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more. 

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth. 

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him. 

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it. 

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force. 

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt. 

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue. 

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you? 

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you. 

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis. 

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?” 

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

“proud enough to give me a reward?” 

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be. 

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?” 

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —” 

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.” 

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do. 

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.” 

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you. 

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” 

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips. 

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come. 

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered. 

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?” 

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance. 

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit. 

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm. 

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” 

“but—” 

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.” 

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you. 

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.” 

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—” 

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.” 

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.” 

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head. 

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly. 

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice. 

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.” 

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.” 

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can. 

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.” 

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume. 

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—” 

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you. 

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?” 

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.” 

“m’close, so close —” 

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.” 

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out. 

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off. 

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down. 

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck. 

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part six

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: smut & not proofread

You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when you hear the girl talking to Lando. He’s barely responding to her, but still. It’s so clear to you. Lando doesn’t care about you. That silly crush of yours? You need to get rid of it. How faster, how better. When they walk inside the living room, it doesn’t take longer then a second for Lando to see you sitting on the couch. 

While Lando is busy staring at you and thinking about what to say, you can’t stop looking at the girl he bought home with him. Is it bad that she kinda reminds you of yourself? She’s wearing the same sort of dress you were wearing on your ‘date’ with your ex. Her hair is the same color and about as long as yours. It must be a coincidence. 

Lando feels so ashamed right now. The night he goes for the most pathetic way, is the night you see it happen. Fucking hell. He hasn’t drunk enough to handle with this. When he saw Emily earlier at the club, at least if he got her name right, he could only see the dress she’s wearing. Exactly like yours from earlier. Then he saw how she had some other things that reminded him of you. It felt like the only solution for tonight. 

“Uh,” Emily clearly feels the tension between Lando and you. “She’s not your girlfriend right?” She asks awkwardly. 

“No,” you quickly reply. 

Lando doesn’t even know what to say. He can only feel ashamed right now. Fuck. You keep looking at Emily and him. He knows that you see it as well, it’s not hard to miss that Emily looks like you. This is embarrassing. It feels even more embarrassing that she’s a cheap knockoff compared to you. He lets out an annoyed sigh. Fuck, he really fucked things up with this. 

Now that he thinks about it, he wonders why he even brought the girl home with him. How longer he looks at her, how less she reminds him of you. Tonight was about proving that you’re wrong, not about proving the other way around. Why did he even bring her with him? It’s desperate, really.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” you softly say while standing up from the couch. Is it that bad that you’re disappointed in this? You feel like some sort of fool. Why did you even wait up? Why did you want to know about this? You feel yourself getting more sad with the second. Slowly you walk away. When you walk past Lando, he’s quick to grab your shoulder. It makes you even more sad. 

“Don’t leave like this,” he softly says, “Let’s talk.”

You feel the anger running through your veins right now. You aren’t thinking about what you’re saying right now. “I don’t think your girlfriend is here to talk,” you sneer to him, “and neither am I. Not anymore at least.”

“Let me explain,” Lando pleas with a soft voice.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you state, “We’re nothing. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. You lied to me before, I don’t trust you anymore. We’re even less then nothing now.”

“Don’t act like this,” Lando replies. You see the pain in his eyes, but for now you don’t care about that. He did this to himself. He’s the one who bought her home, not you. If it’s up to you he feels all kind of pain right now, he deserves it. 

“Don’t act like what?” You ask annoyed, “Can’t I tell you that we’re not friends, or anything else? Or can’t I tell you that I don’t care about you? You do you Lando. I really don’t give a fuck. So go have sex with your new girlfriend over here.”

“Shut up,” Lando groans. 

“Or what?” You reply angrily. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Lando continues. 

“I mean every word of what I just said,” you lie. Of course you don’t mean anything about it. You thought that Lando and you were finally becoming friendly with each other, you even hoped for more. Fuck this is really bad. It even pains you to say those words to him, but you don’t feel like you have another choice. 

“Stop lying,” Lando says with a louder voice this time. He almost seems angry this time. The frustration is obvious. 

“I don’t care Lando. Do whatever you want, go fuck with her or another girl. I really don’t care about it,” you tell him with the same frustration, “just make sure that you’re not moaning out my name again.” 

“Shut up,” Lando groans. The angry undertone in his voice is getting more clear now. You match it.

“Make me,” you reply angrily. 

You’re painfully aware about how close Lando and you are standing towards each other. He isn’t holding your shoulder anymore, but you feel every breath of him on your face. At this moment you want nothing more then for Lando to snap. It feels like you’re pretty close to make that happen. You wonder what will happen next. Will he scream at you? Or would he shut you up another way? Some way you prefer?

Lando takes a step closer towards you. His nose is almost pressed against yours. The space between to two of you gets only smaller. You wonder if you need to say something else, but then Lando continues to talk. 

“You want me to shut you up?” He asks you. His voice isn’t angry anymore, it doesn’t even seems frustrated anymore. It’s almost scarily calm for what’s happening. You notice how Lando doesn’t look away from you. The girl he bought home with him is still here, but it seems like Lando has forgotten about her. Not that you mind. Why hasn’t she left yet anyway?

“Yes,” you state boldly. 

Lando doesn’t think about the possible outcomes of his next movement. He stops thinking about everything he wants to do right now and for once just does something. Still annoyed and frustrated with the whole evening - and mostly with himself, he finally snaps. He grabs your waist, and pulls you almost into himself. Before you can react he lifts up your chin with a soft, but forceful movement. He gives you one last look in the eyes before closing his own eyes and slamming his lips against yours. 

You didn’t expect him to do this. Fuck, you really didn’t. But it’s insane how good it feels. Lando his lips are soft, even softer then you thought they would be. His kiss reflects the way he’s feeling, it’s messy but it does fit the moment. You can probably kiss him like this for the rest of the night.  And many nights more. If he would let you. Maybe it isn’t Lando who doesn’t support that idea, it’s the girl from earlier who distracts you from each other. 

“What the fuck!” She loudly screams. “Why did you even bring me here?” She continues to ask, “This is fucking insane.” 

“Just leave,” Lando sighs annoyed. He doesn’t move away from you in the mean time. You’re still trapped in his arms. Without saying a word, but with a small grin plastered on your face, you watch everything amused. It seems like she doesn’t want to leave like this. The girl is still fuming and making all kind of remarks at Lando. While he only tries to get her to leave. 

Eventually Lando needs to let go of you to walk her outside. You still hear her screaming in the hallway. It makes you giggle. Of course, it’s bad that Lando treated her like this - but for once, you’re glad about it. It would be way worse if he fucked her. You hear the front door close, after that there’s a peaceful silence. No more screams from the girl. No more arguments between Lando and you. 

When Lando returns to you, he’s busy thinking about what to do next. Should he continue with what he was doing? Or should he apologize? He has no idea what you think about all of this. What if he kissed you without you agreeing with it? When he sees you leaning on the wall and waiting for him with a small, but really satisfied grin plastered on your face, Lando is quick to forget about all his worries. He rushes himself back to you, only to press his lips on yours for the second time that night. 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he grunts after pulling back.

“Says you,” you reply softly.

Lando doesn’t reply verbally this time. He softly pins you against the wall and presses his lips against yours for the third time tonight. Now that he knows how it feels to kiss with you, he never wants to stop with it. He can’t miss this feeling. 

You can safely state that you have never been kissed better then this. It’s not like you want to give yourself hope, but Lando kisses you like there’s no-one else he ever wants to kiss again. You can only hope that it actually is that way. Mainly because you’re sure that you never want to kiss anyone else again if it isn’t Lando. 

“Fuck Lan,” you softly whimper when he pulls back again. 

He looks at you. The way he stares at you makes you shiver. His eyes pierce through yours. “What babygirl?” Lando asks you. He’s afraid that you have come to your senses, that he should stop this. You probably don’t want this, he guesses. 

“Don’t stop,” you softly tell him with red cheeks. 

“Sorry, I’ll stop,” Lando mutters a bit disappointed. You show him a confused look, didn’t he hear you? You don’t even know why he’s thinking about stopping. The only good thing about him mishearing you, is that he seems disappointed to stop. That’s interesting. 

“I said don’t stop,” you tell him a bit louder this time. 

This time it’s Lando who shows you a confused look. He has no idea what’s happening to him. Before he can even ask if you’re sure, you already surprise him again. This time it’s you who pulls him closer towards yourself. Lando doesn’t even know what’s happening anymore. It seems like you do want this as well? He thought you lost yourself in the moment, but now he’s not so sure about that anymore. 

He can’t help himself anymore now. His tongue is inside your mouth and battling yours for dominance. Lando can’t hold himself back. If this is the only night he’ll experience this, he needs to experience as much of you as he can. When you let out a soft moan during making out with Lando, it only arouses him more. He feels his pants tighten around a particular spot. Softly he pins you against the wall again. He removes his lips from yours, only to connect them with your neck. 

It makes you let out a soft moan. How is Lando making you feel like this in only a matter of time? You must be losing your mind. Your focus is quick to disappear when Lando his hands start to explore your body as well. His hands are everywhere, at least that’s how it feels like. 

“Let me make it up to you,” he eventually tells you. 

“Make it up to me?” You ask confused. What’s he talking about. 

“For bringing her home,” Lando confesses, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

Slowly you nod. “That’s a lot to make up for,” you softly say. 

Lando nods as well. “Thank god we have a lot of time,” he jokes. You show him a small grin. That’s enough confirmation for him right now. Within seconds he picks you up. You’re surprised about his strength. He’s actually walking you to his room like this. When you reach his bedroom, Lando softly drops you onto his bed. He joins you on the bed, hovering above you while pressing kisses on your cheeks, forehead, nose and every other spot he can find to press his lips against. 

It takes you a lot to withhold yourself from letting out loud moans whenever Lando does something. When Lando kisses you against your neck and softly sucks on a small bit of your skin, you can’t hold them back anymore. You let out a loud moan. 

“Lan,” you softly whimper.

“You better keep calling me that,” Lando softly tells you. You show him a small smile. He let himself down on the bed next to you. You’re quick to move yourself closer towards Lando. Within a couple seconds you have yourself pressed up against him again. Lando looks at you full lust. “Needy babygirl?” Lando asks you. 

You can only nod. You feel your cheeks redden up. It almost feels embarrassing, but you really can’t stop feeling like this right now. The things Lando is doing to you, while almost doing nothing to you, are actually insane. Lando moves himself again. This time he positions himself sitting right next to you. Softly he pulls you up as well. He toys with the hem of your sweater, looking at you with questioning eyes while doing so. You show him a small nod, hoping that he understands the hint. He does. Slowly Lando pulls off your sweater. 

When he sees that you’re wearing nothing underneath your sweater, he softly gasps. “Fuck babygirl,” he mutters while looking at your boobs. He notices the way your nipples have hardened, he wants nothing more then to put them into his mouth. For now he withholds himself from actually doing so. He does however move his attention towards your leggings. Suddenly he can’t think about anything else then seeing you naked. 

It’s you who is quick to discard the leggings you were wearing. Lando can’t believe his eyes when you start to pull of the leggings. When the leggings have joined your sweater on the floor, Lando can’t stop staring at you anymore. Softly he lets his hands wander over your body, stopping by your string. After this there’s no way back. Not that he can trust himself to stop now, but after seeing you completely naked he’s sure that he can’t stop anymore. 

You let out a soft moan when Lando traces your string with his fingers. “Take it off please,” you beg Lando. 

“Sure babygirl?” Lando asks you, “Because I don’t think I can stop myself anymore after seeing you naked.” He needs to know for sure that you want this as well. 

“Please,” you continue to beg, “Just take if off already.”

Lando doesn’t need to know anything else for now. He is quick to pull down your string. When he tosses it on the floor as well, he can’t tear his eyes of you. You’re beautiful. Words are leaving his mouth rather quickly, he can’t even think about what he’s saying anymore. 

“You look so beautiful,” he murmurs. You show him a small smile. “Imagined this for years,” he grunts, “You look even better then in my dreams.” Is Lando confessing that he dreamt about you? What’s going on? “Can I touch you?” Lando suddenly asks you, you’re quick to stammer out a yes. 

Lando is quick to come into action after hearing your yes. Suddenly he’s everywhere at once. You feel him exploring your naked body. His lips are pressing kisses on your neck, but he’s fast to move down lower. Eventually he reaches your boobs. He sends you one more asking look to know you’re sure about this, which you are quick to confirm to. After that Lando closes his lips around one of your nipples, while softly kneading your other tit. It causes you to let out a loud moan, something that Lando seems to like. 

Everything is getting to much for you rather quickly. It’s been a while since the last time you’ve had sex and with a thin walled room next to Lando, masturbating wasn’t one of your options lately. The way Lando discovers your body is making you lose your mind. You need to feel him as well. You start to toy with the hem of his shirt, trying to make clear to him that he should take it off. Lando doesn’t budge. 

When Lando moves down on your body again and presses kisses against your lower stomach, you’re sure that you’ll be losing your mind. When one of his kisses is almost pressed against your cunt, you almost let out a scream. Fuck it’s actually insane how much you need him to do something to you. Who would have thought that Lando is the one who can make you feel like this? Now that you think of it, you’re not that surprised. 

“Ohh Lan,” you softly moan out when Lando gets even closer towards your more private parts. Lando lets out a low groan. “I need to taste you,” Lando grunts. 

“Please do,” you moan. 

That’s all Lando needed to hear. He dresses himself down in no time. His shirt and pants join your clothes on the bedroom floor. Then he spread your legs for himself. “Such a pretty cunt,” Lando softly mutters while looking at you. He really can’t believe that this is happening. 

“Do something,” you softly beg. 

Lando doesn’t wait any longer anymore. He presses kisses against your cunt in a taunting slow pace. It makes you crazy. “More,” you whimper. Lando listens to you. Like some sort of madman he starts to lick your pussy. His tongue is everywhere at once. You don’t even try to hold back your moans anymore. They are leaving your mouth again and again. It seems that Lando likes it as well. 

“You’re making such pretty sounds for me,” Lando tells you adoringly. It gives you a warm feeling on the inside. You’re probably red already, but otherwise you’d be sure that this would be the reason. “Such a good girl,” Lando continues to praise you. 

Lando slowly lets one of his fingers slide inside of you. Moving it in a rather fast pace while connecting his lips to your clit. Softly he sucks it inside of his mouth. When he releases, you let out a loud moan again. You feel your orgasm getting closer. 

“Fuck me,” you try to order Lando. 

Lando stops his movements. “Fuck you?” He asks you confused.

“I need to feel you inside me,” you confess. 

“What about asking nicely?” Lando asks you teasingly. He always thought you’d be a bit of a brat and it turns out that he’s right. However, what he didn’t expect was how easily it would be to turn you into a begging mess.

“Please Lan,” you beg him without even thinking about it. “Please let me feel you fill me up,” you continue, “Please fuck me.” Begs are leaving your lips like prayers. Lando has never felt so aroused in his life before. He always thought it would be different with you, more intense for sure, but he didn’t expect it to be this much better with you. He’s still wearing his boxers, but he has never felt this close to an orgasm before. You’re making him lose his mind. 

Lando already knows that when he has felt you around his cock for the first time, there’s no one else who would ever feel better around it anymore. He knows for a fact that when he fucks you, he ruins sex for himself for the rest of his life. But still, that doesn’t stop him from pulling down his boxershorts and letting his cock spring to freedom. 

You’re greedily grabbing his boner, needing to feel it in your hands before he puts it inside you. Slowly you stroke his dick, Lando lets out a loud moan. It feels good to pull a sound like this out of him. You want to hear every sound you can get out of him. 

“Princess,” Lando grunts, “You have to stop doing that, otherwise I’ll cum before even fucking you.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” You ask Lando. Fuck, you feel like a brat but you can’t stop yourself. You never felt like this before. No one ever made you feel like this. Lando can only grin when he hears your remark. 

“Always thought you would be a brat,” he tells you with a dangerously low voice. It makes you even more turned on. “Sorry,” you whimper.

“Never apologize for that babygirl,” Lando is quick to reassure you, “I always liked the thought.” Before you can react again, Lando continues to talk. “And I always liked the thought of you being my brat even more,” he confesses. You don’t know what to say. At this moment you don’t have to say anything, Lando comes closer towards you and starts to line up his cock with your entrance. 

“You still want this?” Lando asks you.

“Please,” you beg.

That’s all Lando needed to hear. He pushes himself inside of you. Within seconds he’s setting a ungodly pace. You can’t even think straight anymore right now. The only thing that’s in your mind is how good Lando is fucking you. Sex never felt like this before. You wonder if anyone else will ever make it feels like this. You don’t think so. Lando is probably ruining you. And you would let him do it again every time he wants to. 

“Fuck,” you whimper when you feel your orgasm reaching again. Lando makes all kind of sounds in the mean time. You love every single one of them. Every small or big grunt, moan and groan makes you even more aroused. 

“You feel fucking perfect,” Lando groans. He increases his pace even more. “I’m so fucking close,” he adds almost ashamed. 

“Me too,” you confess.

Lando didn’t lie about how close he already was. He feels himself almost crashing down because of his upcoming orgasm. He tries to fuck you as hard as he can manage, pushing and pulling in and out of you with a rapid pace. “Fuck,” you almost scream when Lando keeps increasing his pace. “I’m coming,” you tell Lando pretty quickly after that.

You feel the orgasm washing over you. It’s never been as intense as now. Lando tries to pull himself back, remembering for the first time that he didn’t use any kind of protection. Your legs are firmly wrapped on his body, you’re not letting him go. 

“Pill,” you softly explain. Lando nods and pushes himself deeper back into you. He feels his load coming out of him and entering you. 

“Fucking hell babygirl,” Lando grunts a couple minutes later when he feels more relaxed again. His orgasm has left his body. He feels calm again. “That was,” Lando starts a sentence he doesn’t know how to finish. It was so many things, mind-blowing, the best sex of his life and he can go on like this. 

“A mistake,” you finish his sentence. You already feel sad about the words you just said, but you know that it’s for the better to call it a mistake. “This can’t happen again,” you sigh. 

Lando doesn’t know what to think right now. “A mistake?” He asks you confused, “Was it that bad?”

“No,” you’re quick to deny, “I think, no I know that this was the best sex I’ve ever had. But we can’t do this again Lando, I’m not the one for one night stands.”

“I never called this an one night stand,” Lando is quick to tell you. “Let’s talk tomorrow about this babygirl. I want to sleep and I want you next to me.” 

It’s probably the most stupid thing you can do, but you agree to Lando his wishes. You let yourself fall asleep next to Lando. He cuddles up against you and does the exact same thing, but not before wondering how he’s going to make sure that this will happen again. 

a/n; finaaaaally some tension :) there's more to come! hope everyone likes it <3

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[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel helps out Tommy’s pregnant girlfriend while he’s in jail while secretly having feelings for her.]

Drama fluff

PART TWO

“Don’t work yourself up, darlin’. Any man would be stupid to not appreciate you growin’ a baby for em…be stupid to not want a family with you…” he looked down at you as you looked up into his brown eyes.

A few months had passed now as your belly grew…three months to be exact. Due to complications with his case Tommy had not been released yet, Joel would drive you to visit him every week. He only did it because he didn’t want you traveling alone, he never felt his brother deserved it. After todays sonogram you had planned to visit him. You always felt conflicted when going to visit him wishing things were different.

Joel stood beside you as a new doctor entered the room to perform the sonogram.

“Where is Dr.Edwards?” You asked a bit anxious only wanting to be treated by those you were familiar with.

“He had an emergency today so I’ll be taking care of his patients, how are we feeling today?” He asked with a warm smile.

“Good, a lot of kicking” you lay back staring at the ceiling as Joel stood beside you looking down at you. As the months had passed you and Joel had grown very close. You appreciated his time and care for you, you always wished Tommy was more like his older brother. The doctor went and placed the cold gel on your belly and proceeded to move his hand around getting a good look.

“Oh yeah look at that, he’s dancing around in there” the doctor laughed looking at the screen.

“Yes,it’s all especially at bed time” you sighed with a chuckle.

“And he’s a big boy, I could see-“ the doctor continued pointing at the screen.

“He’s going to be tall like daddy” the doctor pointed at Joel beside you. The both of you froze not knowing what to say..

“Um-he-“ you decided to not even bother as the doctor became distracted by the screen and let it be. Joel held back a chuckle as he lightly chewed on his bottom lip.

Every sonogram appointment was bittersweet, you loved seeing your son moving around but it broke your heart that Tommy wasn’t enjoying any of this with you.

“Everything looks great, I’ll see you back in three weeks" the doctor stopped before you and pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose looking at you and Joel.

"I assume dad is helping you around the house-“ he looked at Joel making you blush in embarrassment.

“Don’t let her overwork herself, that’s a big boy she’s carrying” he teased before rubbing your shoulder.

“Take care of yourselves” the doctor chuckled as he walked out leaving you and Joel awkwardly alone.

Not knowing what to say you simply allowed Joel to help you off the bed and walked out with him.

“Sorry about that” you suddenly spoke as you walked beside him to his truck.

“For what?”

“The doctor…you know…the dad stuff..” he opened the car door for you with a shrug.

“That don’t bother me, darlin’. I can play along” he winked at you making you look down with a smile.

“Well seriously, I'm so grateful with how helpful you have been with me, Joel…you don’t have to do any of this,”

“Hey…that’s my nephew you’re carrying, course I’m gonna help” he gave you his arm to hold to get in the car and closed the door.

“What would I do without you, Joel” you whispered to yourself watching him walk around the car to the drivers seat. You had no idea the true thoughts going through his mind.

Joel drove beside you looking over at you as you looked out the window. Every week you visited Tommy while carrying his growing son inside of you, and he never seemed appreciative of anything you did. Joel hated seeing it..

“I have the sonograms to give to Tommy so he can see how big our boy is” you smiled looking down at the photos as he peaked at them while driving.

“Do you think he’ll be happy to see?” You looked over at Joel noticing he seemed a bit upset.

“What’s wrong?” He quickly changed his expression and shook his head.

“Nothin’, just trynna get there”

“I’m sorry” you sighed.

“I don’t mean to bore you with all of this baby talk, it’s just-“

“Don’t you apologize honey, ya ain’t borin’ me” he assured you as he drove, finally arriving to the place.

Joel entered with you, standing beside you as you gave your information to see Tommy.

“Uh, Tommy Miller is no longer available for visits until further notice-“

“Excuse me?” Joel took a step forward beside you.

“What? What do you mean?” You asked confused.

“Yesterday evening he was involved in an altercation and lost visiting privileges” the officer explained.

“What?” Your heart beginning to race as anxiety took over and Joel could see it. Something didn’t sound right but what the hell did you know how any of this shit worked.

“What altercation? Is he ok?”

“We have no further information on the situation mam, you will have to call his-“

“No! I would like to see if he’s ok!” You began to scream before feeling Joel delicately pull you away from the window.

“Who can I speak to about this that can give us more information now” Joel asked directly.

“As I told the lady, Sir, you will have to call in the morning-“

“Is he alright?” Joel asked making the officer narrow his eyes on him.

“Please man just give her that…she’s pregnant for Gods sake” the officer took one look at you and gave in.

“He’s fine, he’s the one that did the damage. He has no access to visitors or phone calls until further notice”

“Shit” you whispered in a cry placing your hand on your forehead and turning away.

“Does he know?” You asked hoping maybe there would be a message Tommy had for you.

“Yes he does” the officer responded.

“How long is it gonna be like this?” You quickly asked before leaving.

“Could be a few months, all depends on how he behaves” pressing your lips together you walked out as fast as you could in disbelief.

“Hey” Joel called out to you catching up with you just as you got to the truck.

“Hey, easy-“

“How could he be so stupid!” You screamed slamming your hand on the truck.

“Try to relax-“

“I am six months pregnant, Joel! A few months I can’t see him or speak directly to him? I am due in November! It’s enough he can’t be here..What if-“

“Look at me” Joel unexpectedly grabbed your face.

“I will call tomorrow morning and see what I find out, I need you to stay calm until then. Can ya do that for me?” You sighed and slowly nodded.

“Now let’s go back to my place, dinner on me. Whatever you and little man are in the mood for alright?”

You chuckled softly, Joel was always trying to make you laugh.

“Sounds good” you whispered although he could see the clear concern in your eyes before he helped you in the truck.

The whole ride to his house he watched as you silently cried through the reflection of the window. You wouldn’t turn his way, you wouldn’t speak, he hated Tommy for this. All his brother did was hurt you time after time with no sense of remorse.

Once arriving at the house Sarah greeted you excitedly rubbing your belly with a grin.

“How’s my cousin doing?”

“Good, killing my back” you smiled softly but Sarah could tell you were upset and trying to hide it. Your eyes were puffy, it was obvious you had been crying. Joel ordered dinner and the three of you sat together as you silently ate. Silently he kept looking up at you with concern before Sarah finally spoke.

“So are you staying here tonight?”

Joel eagerly waited for you to respond.

“I think you should” she continued.

“I…-“

“You know, Tommy’s room is just gonna be empty for a while. You could stay there so if you need anything we’ll be close by”

Joel suggested, the thought was tempting yet you felt you were being helped enough to now move in.

“Joel, you’ve done enough for me I can’t-“

“Sarah and I would feel better if you stayed close, with the baby’s due date gettin’ closer and all…” he insisted, you sighed looking down. The idea didn’t sound bad at all yet the thought of staying alone in Tommy’s empty room depressed you.

“I suppose…just for some time”

Joel smiled in relief feeling better with you staying with him.

The days went on and still there was no call from Tommy. Joel trying to get through multiple times would only end up going in circles yet you appreciated how much he tried for you.

Three in the morning and you couldn’t sleep you found yourself standing in the kitchen eating ice cream. Staring into space thinking about the reality of the situation when Joel walked into the kitchen.

“Oh-I’m sorry if I woke you” you looked a bit embarrassed as he shook his head assuring you he had been awake. He stared at you for a moment and couldn’t help but smirk.

“What?” You raised a brow only causing him to chuckle.

“You’re laughing at me?”

“No mam” he quickly shook his head.

His eyes tracing over your swollen belly as you stood in the kitchen barefoot in a night gown eating ice cream out of the container.

“You just…you look beautiful…” your eyes slightly widened not expecting his compliment.

“Oh, well..thank you..”you blushed quickly putting away the ice cream.

“Was just craving some chocolate” you chuckled.

“Did you get your fix?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

“Yes, I think he liked it too” you laughed as you rubbed your belly.

“Stay right there” Joel unexpectedly grabbed something out of the cabinet.

“What?” You whispered as he pulled out a Polaroid camera.

“A picture?” you raised a brow.

“A picture of you pregnant, why not?” You smiled looking down, you realized you hadn’t taken any photos of yourself pregnant. With a silent nod you stood against the wall, holding your belly with a smile. Joel took a step back taking the photo, his eyes still on you as he bought the camera down.

“You think that came out ok?”

“Perfect” he whispered just as you noticeably winced.

“Movin’ a lot?” Joel asked taking a step forward.

“Yes, it’s always around the same time he’s more hyper than others, do you wanna feel?” You stepped forward taking a hold of Joel’s hand and placed it on the spot you usually felt him in. Joel awkwardly stood still as you held his hand, a few seconds passed and you felt the baby moving again.

“Jesus..” he whispered with a smile. Your hand softly placed over his large hand as he continued to feel the baby move.

“He does move a lot” Joel uttered as he looked down at your belly.

“Was Sarah like this when her mother was pregnant?” You noticed his expression slightly change at the mention of Sarah’s mother as he looked up. Slowly releasing his hand he took a step back.

“That’s kind of a blur to me, if I’m being honest. Her mother didn’t enjoy being pregnant, she realized a little too late that it wasn’t something she wanted.” You had never heard what happened to Sarahs mother, nor did you ever ask but you were always curious.

“So….she just left?” You whispered hesitantly as he cleared his throat and leaned back on the counter.

“Mhm”

You raised your brows in silence.

“How old was Sarah when she left?”

“Four months old”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry, Joel” you responded.

“I ain’t, it was better for Sarah” you nodded in response, you knew he was a great father.

“It’s a shame…” you whispered.

“When a parent doesn’t…doesn’t prioritize their baby..” you swallowed trying to fight back tears.

“Tommy knew what would happen if he started anything there, he knew I wouldn’t be able to see him. He doesn’t care about the risks he takes knowing I’m pregnant” you whispered.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s always been like this. I just…I guess a part of me hoped this would help him change” you quickly wiped away a tear as you cradled your belly.

“How stupid of me to think that it would-“

“Hey, Tommy’s the stupid one” he quickly interrupted.

“I just wanted a happy family with him” you began to cry as Joel took a step forward.

“C’mere” he placed an arm around you, his chin leaning on your head.

“Don’t work yourself up, darlin’. Any man would be stupid to not appreciate you growing a baby for em…be stupid to not want a family with you…” he looked down at you as you looked up into his brown eyes. Gently he wiped your tears away with his thumb when he noticed you looking at his lips. Unexpectedly you tip toed and kissed him, he didn’t move in shock. A second later he kissed you passionately before you abruptly pulled away.

“Oh my god-“ you gasped.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I-I’m sorry” you quickly ran to your room in shock.

“Wait-“ he called out to you but you didn’t listen.

Closing the door shut, your hand on your lips you couldn’t believe what you had just done.

Tommy’s brother? How could you be so stupid? The feel of guilt heavy in your chest, never had you betrayed Tommy this way.

Joel stood in the kitchen alone replaying in his mind what had just happened. Something he had wanted to do for so long yet didn’t expect in that moment…

The next day you woke up earlier than Joel and planned to take a cab to work. Sarah, who was always an early bird watched on confused as you grabbed your bag before looking at the time.

“Are you gonna wait for dad to take you?” She asked as you rushed to the door.

“No, I start earlier today. I’ll see you later, have a great day” You left the house before Joel’s alarm woke him.

Joel came down the stairs pulling down his shirt expecting to see you having breakfast with Sarah, expecting to speak to you once she left for school.

“Where’s y/n?” He asked curiously as Sarah ate her scrambled eggs.

“She said she started earlier today that she didn’t need the ride” Joel remained silent looking away.

During the early afternoon you had received a call that Tommy would be allowed visits. You didn’t know how to feel, Tommy had cheated on you many times in the past yet this somehow felt worse because he didn’t expect it from you.

Joel had thought about you all day, even calling your cell but never got an answer. Once you returned you hoped Joel wasn’t home yet there he was on the couch beside Sarah waiting for your return. Once you walked through the door he quickly stood up, yet you couldn’t speak. Walking into the kitchen you could hear his steps following behind, before he could say a word you spoke.

“They’re letting Tommy accept visits now” you blurt out making him stop in his tracks. You couldn’t even look him in the eye as you took a deep breath.

“I’m going to see him today-“

“I’ll take you,” Joel responded quickly.

“No, I…you shouldn’t” you whispered.

“I ain’t lettin’ you go out there alone” he took a step forward.

“I been worried about you all damn day, let me take you” he insisted, silently you gave in.

Neither of you said a word as he drove to the prison. Your stomach turning, your heart in your throat as you sat beside Joel waiting to see Tommy.

Confusion wasn’t the word.

Yesterday wasn’t right, you knew it wasn’t…yet you couldn’t get the feel of his damn lips out of your mind. Joel kept looking over at you itching to say something about the night before but he didn’t know how.

“You alright?” He asked with a deep breath.

“I-“

“Look about last night” he quickly interrupted.

“Don’t” you whispered.

“I don’t know what got into me. My hormones, my mind…I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry” you still couldn’t look at him blaming it on anything you could think of.

“Ya don’t gotta apologize” Joel responded, he wanted it more than you knew.

“Just leave it” you shook your head as he pulled into the parking area.

There was Tommy on the other side of the glass in his orange jumpsuit. He looked angry grabbing the phone as you slowly sat before him.

“Tommy-“

“What the hell was so important that you needed to come today” Joel instantly leaned forward beside you like a body guard on watch.

“She was worried about you Tommy”

“Well as you can see I’m fine right? And you,” he looked at Joel.

“Stop giving her damn rides over here” you looked at him in shock.

“You don’t want to see me” you whispered as felt a knot in your throat.

“For what? There’s no point” he bluntly responded. The sound in his voice, the words he used broke your heart. Pressing your lips together you hung up the phone and walked out as Joel looked down at his brother angrily and grabbed the phone.

“You always gotta be an ass huh”

“She’ll get over it” Tommy shrugged.

Joel flared his nostrils taking a deep breath, it was by luck that his brother was behind a glass in that moment.

Joel walked out to find you sitting in the truck looking down. You didn’t move as he got in, he himself not knowing what to say. Joel drove constantly looking over at you to make sure you were ok, you had remained silent staring into space.

“Look, Tommy is-“

“I don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care to” you looked straight ahead as he nodded and respected your wishes.

Walking inside his home you walked quickly to Tommy’s bedroom and decided to pack your belongings. Joel hesitantly following you inside until he noticed you throw your open luggage on the bed.

“What are you doin’?” he asked with furrowed brows as you began to pack.

“Going back home” you whispered without looking up.

“No-why? Look Tommy got nothin’ to do with me wantin’ to help-“

“Forget Tommy!” You screamed unexpectedly.

“I don’t need him” you continued moving back and forth grabbing your belongings from the closet.

“Look, you’re upset right now and I understand-“

“You really don’t understand so leave me alone” Joel pressed his lips together, the thought of you leaving and staying alone towards the end of your pregnancy all because of Tommy didn’t feel right to him.

“Don’t-“ he caught your arm stopping you from packing more clothes away.

“Let go of me, Joel” you whispered.

“No” he could tell you were holding back tears, holding back anger.

“Let go!” You screamed failing to pull your arms back. A part of you not wanting him to let you go but you felt leaving was the smart thing to do. After the kiss…you knew it wasn’t best for you to stay.

“Tommy doesn’t care about me or this baby-“

“Well I do, dammit” he almost yelled.

“Stop it” you shook your head as you began to cry, he wasn’t making this any easier.

“You’re his brother, I am pregnant with his baby and I kissed you and-“

“That’s why you wanna leave?” He whispered leaning closer towards you. The feelings you felt overflowing inside you, resentment and anger towards Tommy…yet safe with Joel. Maybe it was more than just safety with Joel…the kissed you both shared still heavy on your mind...

“I kissed you and-“

“I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about it since it happened” he admitted in a whisper, taking the words right out of your mouth.

“And you still think it’s right for me to stay?”

“I want you to” he insisted just as you both heard the door open and Sarah walked in.

“Dad? What’s going on?” Joel quickly let go of you as Sarah looked at all your stuff on the bed.

“You’re leaving?” She asked with concern.

“I-“

“Please don’t go, I really like when you’re here” Sarah made you smile with her words.

“I’m not going anywhere” you assured her.

“Did you see Uncle Tommy?”

You swallowed anxiously as your smile vanished.

“How about we get ready for dinner” Joel interrupted. She agreed not pushing the topic and left back to the living room.

Sitting at the table in silence Sarah stared back between you and her father. She knew something was off, she knew her father very well.

“So how was everyone’s day?” She asked making you look up.

“Good, how was school?”

“Yeah, how was that test you had?” Her father looked over at her.

“Aced it” she smiled.

“That’s my girl” Joel grinned before continuing to eat his food.

Once dinner was finished your proceeded to get up and collect the dishes.

“I’ll start washing these”

“How about you sit back and put those feet up, I think you’ve done enough today” Joel took the dishes out of your hands and walked to the kitchen. Sarah raised her brows holding in a chuckle.

“My dads not gonna let you lift a finger now that you’re staying here”

“Well, I appreciate that but I can still do things” you assured her before walking to the couch and laying back. Putting your feet up didn’t seem so bad, you sighed feeling the breeze from the window as your eyes began to close and you fell asleep.

An hour later you woke up a little confused not realizing you had fallen asleep. Joel was sitting on the couch beside you reading a book until he heard you move around.

“What time is it?”

“Eight thirty” he responded as you sighed.

“Geez,” Joel quickly stood up as you tried to push yourself up. Slowly he helped you up as you winced feeling an ache in your back.

“You alright?” He asked holding you steady.

“Yeah, I just need to walk” you assured him and slowly made your way to the kitchen rubbing your eyes. Leaning forward on the counter you held your lower back with one hand attempting to stretch your body in a way that would relieve the ache.

“My back has been killing me all day” you arched your back again attempting to relieve pressure when you suddenly felt Joel behind you, his hands pressing into your lower back.

“What are you doing?” You whispered awkwardly.

“Tryna help you”

“No, I don’t think-“ you attempted to turn back but Joel held you in place.

“Stay still, I know what I’m doin’. I promise I ain’t gonna try nothin’” he assured you assuming that was going through your head. Little did he know, it wasn’t the fear of him trying something, it was the thought of enjoying feeling his hands on you.

Leaning forward you closed your eyes as Joel worked his hands throughout your back. He sure did know how to work them, feeling the relief of pressure you moaned softly.

“Oh that feels…wonderful”

Joel smiled watching your body relax, your shoulders calmly drop as he continued to massage you.

He genuinely only wanted to make you feel comfortable knowing you had no one else to help you with this. Feeling you close was just a bonus for him.

“You’re the best” you whispered just as you both heard one of the bedroom doors open.

Sarah came out to see her father massaging your back as you awkwardly turned forward taking a deep breath.

“Hi Sarah”

She smiled as she walked into the kitchen and began to make herself a sandwich.

“I bet uncle Tommy is happy you’re getting help, I can’t imagine how scared he was with you alone” your smile dropped as Joel rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah” you responded softly.

“Well, I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’ll see you two in the morning” you walked past the both of them as Joel watched you walk into the bedroom. Sarah noticed just how her father kept his eyes on you but didn’t say a word yet she knew him well enough to know there was more she didn’t know about…

[lemoncrushh]

Her Album

Summary: Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it.

Warnings: Angst, lots of feelings

Word Count: 2.9k+

A/N: A short one-shot written in 2019 in first person from Harry's POV. While this is not necessarily a reader fic, the woman's name is never mentioned. This was written before Fine Line was out, so it's pretty wild to think about it now.

The album was done. I’d made a visit to the studio to hear the final mix and then had lunch with Jeffrey and Glenne. As I drove home, I listened to the songs again in the car, deciding not to stop at my house when I got there, but instead to keep going so I could give one last listen straight through.

I’m not sure how I ended up on her street. It used to be automatic, like taking my shoes off before my trousers, or putting the cap back on the toothpaste. I’d driven down her block so many times before, I probably knew it better than my own neighbourhood.

I sat in the car for a long time, staring up at her window. I wasn’t even sure if she was home. I couldn’t tell if a light was on, but it was the middle of the day and that window was her bedroom, so she could’ve been anywhere else inside. I let the album loop around to the first track again, the opening chords hitting me in the chest just like the first time I’d heard them.

I wanted her to hear them too. I wanted her to listen to the melodies and have them bring back the memories that had inspired me to write them. I wanted her to listen to my lyrics and know they were all about her, even the ones that weren’t as obvious. Songs about love and loss. Songs about sex and lust and forbidden fruit. Songs that sounded like they were about something completely different, hidden behind loose meanings and innuendos.

But they were all about her.

I scrolled through my phone and opened the contacts to her name. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, maybe even months. I’d lost count. Being in the studio had helped to heal my broken heart, and my pride, but it certainly hadn’t erased her memory. She was with me every single day, every moment that I worked on a song.

I almost tapped on her name, my thumb grazing over it. But I stopped myself, turning off my phone, and then my engine. Climbing out of the car, I walked around it to the pavement in front of her building, once again looking up at her window. For a second I considered being like John Cusack in Say Anything, holding up an 80s boom box and serenading her with my music so she’d notice. But I reckoned that was borderline stalking, not to mention disturbing the neighbours, so I made my way to the stairs and climbed them to the second floor.

I stopped in front of her door, staring at it for a good two to three minutes before I even lifted my hand. I took several breaths, wondering if I was making a mistake. She probably didn’t wanna see me, let alone talk to me. She didn’t give a shit about my album. She had moved on.

But I was there. I felt like something had brought me there for a reason, and that reason was to play her my music. Let her know exactly how I felt about her - how she drove me crazy and how she’d hurt me and how I’d hurt her. How in love with her I’d been. How I still…

Finally, I knocked, a little too softly at first, but I didn’t want to startle her. At least that’s what I told myself. When no one responded, however, I knocked again, much louder and with determination.

“Jesus, I’m coming!” I heard her yell from inside. “Hold your-”

She stood before me with a half-eaten apple in her hand, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She wore a t-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back in a loose bun and no makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hey,” I said, my voice not quite cooperating so I sounded like a frog.

“Harry.” She said my name in almost a question, though she knew it was me. She just wondered why it was me.

When she didn’t say anything else, I shifted my eyes up and down the hall and shrugged.

“Can I come in?”

I admit, I expected her to nod and step back to let me inside her apartment. But when she shook her head, my face fell.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she remarked.

“Um...why not?”

“Because…” she began, her tone hard as steel, “I just got over you.”

“Over me?” I gulped.

“Yeah. It’s taken me a while, but I finally am,” she explained, placing the apple on the table by the door. Then wiping her hands on her shorts, she leaned against the door frame. “You haven’t shown your face here in nearly three months. I can’t just let you waltz on in here and undo everything.”

“‘m not…” I stumbled, “‘m not undoing anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

Her gorgeous but stern eyes glared at me, piercing through my heart. I looked down at my feet, thinking I’d made a mistake by coming. She didn’t want any more to do with me. I’d waited too long and missed the window. Maybe there hadn’t even been one.

Lifting my head, I looked at her beautiful face again. It was then that I recognized the shirt she was wearing - my old AC/DC t-shirt.

“Looks like you’re not completely over me,” I pointed. I dunno why I said it. It was petty and juvenile.

“What?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

She looked down at the emblem on her chest, seemingly just realizing what she had on. With a sigh, she dropped her arms.

“I just like it,” she said, her head held high. “And you basically gave it to me anyway.”

“No, I didn’t.” Shut up, H, you’re making it worse, I thought to myself.

“Well, you left it here. And I ended up sleeping in it. And you never came back, so…” She crossed her arms again in defense.

She was right. The last time I’d been in her apartment, we’d had a massive fight, and I’d told her it was over and stormed out. She’d tried calling and texting me for a couple days, but I’d ignored her, stubborn with pride. When I’d finally agreed to talk to her again, I was only being a right twat, unable to see or accept her side. So, we only ended up fighting again until she said she needed some space.

“I was giving you your space,” I muttered, knowing damn well I sounded like a wanker.

“For six weeks?” she snorted and shook her head. “You have some nerve, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What was that?” she stepped closer to me, her brows furrowed. “Did you really just say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Sorry for what? For breaking my heart? For being a dickhead? For not calling or texting or even saying one word to me for freaking ever? For telling me it was over in the first place? Or for showing up here now when I’m finally over you?”

I blinked. “All of it,” I admitted.

Her lips twitched, and for a second I thought she was going to smile.

“Fuck you, Harry!” she exclaimed.

Stepping back, she grabbed the door, ready to slam it. But I brought my hand up and stopped it.

“I want you to listen to it,” I said, remembering why I’d come.

“Why should I listen to you?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Not to me. To the album. It’s finished, and I want you to hear it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be serious. You came here so I’d listen to your new music? You really are a douchebag.”

“No, you don’t understand, I-“

“You’re right, I don’t,” she interrupted. “But seems to me you had weeks to explain yourself, Harry. I’m done crying over you.”

She was about to shut the door again when I called out, “I’ve been crying over you, too!”

She stood still, her hand on the door that was opened only a crack. Leaning her forehead against it, I could tell she was holding back tears. I didn’t want her to cry now, at least not over this.

“Liar,” she croaked.

“It’s not a lie, ba-” I almost called her baby, but I knew she wouldn’t like that. Not yet. “Please. Let me in. You don’t even have to talk. Just listen to the album.”

I stood silent for a moment, watching her eyelashes flutter against her pink cheeks. Finally, she let out a sigh and stepped back, opening the door to allow me to step inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered low as she closed the door behind me.

She didn’t reply. In fact, she didn’t even look at me as she grabbed her half eaten apple and went into the kitchen. I stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for her return.

“Okay,” she gestured toward me as she plopped onto the couch. “Go ahead.”

Spotting her laptop on the coffee table, I pointed. “Do you mind?”

She merely nodded and I sat down next to her and opened it. Then sliding my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the USB drive and plugged it in, bringing up the files I’d saved in the studio. With a click of the mouse, the first track began to play, those familiar chords ringing once again. I sat back and watched her, waiting for some kind of reaction on her face.

But none came.

Not when the first track ended, nor when the second song started, the first lyric blatantly about her. I started to get restless, rubbing my palms on my knees and bouncing my leg. I ran my fingers through my hair, a habit she used to tell me was endearing, only now she didn’t give any indication that she even noticed.

Finally, during the third song, I saw her make the slightest move, leaning against the arm of the sofa and resting her head in her hand. We made eye contact for a second before she quickly looked away, her eyes hazy. I wondered what she was thinking. I wanted so badly to ask, to pry it out of her, but I’d promised she needn’t talk.

We were halfway through the album when I caught more movement out of the corner of my eye. I’d been sat with my head down, unable to look at her during track seven, the most intimate and personal song I’d written. My gaze lifted to her, and I noticed her shoulders were shaking. Her head was still in her hand, her cheeks now wet with tears.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her in my arms. God, I wanted that so bad. But I let her be. I knew she needed to cry without me giving false promises that everything was okay. None of this was okay.

I’d cried when I’d written that song. I’d broken down in the recording booth when I’d sung the chorus for the first time. I only just realized as I watched her body shake with sobs that I’d been an idiot for not telling her how I’d felt. But maybe...just maybe she could finally hear me through my songs.

By the time that track ended, I was in tears too. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, sniffling as I tried to compose myself. I sat back on the couch again, my head leant back. I shut my eyes and listened to the next song, one a little more uptempo. I tapped my fingertips on the cushion at my sides, humming softly. This song was about happy memories, when we’d laid on the beach or beside my pool last summer. When we’d been so in love and hadn’t a care in the world. Before all the fighting and jealousy and…

I almost didn’t feel it at first, her hand brushing mine. It was such a light touch, I thought perhaps I was imagining it, lost in the song. But my eyelids fluttered open when I felt it again. I stared at my right hand on the cushion, her slim fingers over mine. She used to like to do that, when we’d be sat together watching a movie, or lying in bed reading. She’d trace my hand and knuckles with her fingertips, her delicate hand dancing over mine before I’d smile and thread our fingers together. It was an unspoken gesture of affection we’d had. I missed it.

God, I missed her.

I raised my head to look at her. I half expected her to be looking at me too, but she was focused on our hands. Her expression wasn’t one I’d hoped either. She looked sad, her cheeks still tear-stained. I wanted to kiss them, make it all better.

I opened my mouth to say her name, but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and she looked at me. I turned my hand over then like I used to, wanting to thread our fingers together. But she pulled away, her jaw set.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked, my voice a deep rasp.

They were the first words either of us had spoken since the music started, and I instantly regretted it, knowing I’d meant to stay silent until the end. We were on track nine now, a couple more songs to go. I still wanted her to hear all of it. I wanted her to know I still felt the same, even though I wasn’t completely over the anger, over the heartbreak. But I’d spilled my guts out in my songs. I was shit at communication, I knew that. I hoped that she could understand it all in my music.

“I...I don’t know,” she whispered.

She crossed her legs then, sat in the corner of the couch. She reached behind her head and pulled at her bun, letting her hair fall freely down her shoulders. She seemed comfortable, at least less resistant than she had when I’d knocked on her door. I could tell she wanted to talk, but she kept her mouth shut because I’d told her she could. I also felt like she was really listening though. And that was really all I wanted.

“That was a really good song,” she surprised me after track ten. But she didn’t say anything more.

Clearing my throat again, I sucked in my lips when the final song started. If track seven had been the most personal, this was the companion to it. This was me giving my heart, me asking forgiveness and giving it back. This was me wanting another chance to prove how I felt about her. I’d known as I was writing and recording it that the possibility of that happening was slim to none. But I had to take a chance. I was tired of keeping it bottled up, being a stubborn prat because I’d wanted my way and had to be right. I was all kinds of wrong. I knew I wasn’t fully to blame for our break-up, but I was taking responsibility and owning up to my part in it. I hoped she could hear that in my voice.

By the time the song was over, my head was in my hands. I perched on the edge of the sofa shaking. I’d already listened to it a handful of times in the studio and in my car, but it hadn’t had the effect it had now, sat in her living room with her beside me. I was sobbing like a baby.

“Harry…” I heard her whisper.

When I lifted my head this time, she was right beside me, her face so close it startled me. Her hands were in her lap, and she wrung them like she was either nervous or was trying to keep herself from touching me.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “For everything.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I heard.”

“Will you forgive me?” I asked, turning to face her. I wanted to lift my hand to touch her face but thought better of it. Instead, I hesitantly reached for her hand. I was pleasantly surprised when she let me take it.

“Only if you forgive me, too,” she said.

I let out a deep breath and leant forward. I wanted to kiss her but wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. Lifting my hand this time, I grazed her cheek and wiped a tear away with my thumb.

“I still love you,” I admitted. “I never stopped. I’m just so sorry I waited this long.”

She bit her perfect bottom lip, her big eyes blinking fast.

“I thought I was over you,” she said. “I thought you were over me.”

“Guess we were both wrong.”

She leant into me then, and I took it as my cue. I took her into my arms and kissed her, like I’d wanted to kiss her for months. She felt so good against me, and I quickly found myself shedding more tears.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” she whispered when I released her lips.

“I know,” I agreed. “I promise I’m not walking out this time.”

“Good,” she nodded before kissing me again.

We ended up listening to the album again together while we prepared and ate dinner. There were more tears, but also lots of conversation. We had a long way to go, but I was hopeful.

Something had made me drive down her street. I guess it was me.

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[solemnarration]

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter five

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.1k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, swearing, kissing, use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: last chapter was for the patrick girlies, this one’s for the art girlies xx 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐙-𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐓𝐎𝐍. 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 – 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗. 𝟎𝟖:𝟏𝟑𝐏𝐌.

You walked with Tashi to her hotel room, each step feeling as familiar as it did daunting. The last time you felt this unsure walking through a hotel with her was when you visited Art and Patrick before their final at the Junior US Open. Except that unsureness was surpassed by an excitement to see them again.

That night was, in many ways, the beginning of the end.

Tashi used her keycard to open the door and let you in first. You hesitated, glancing between the doorway and your ex-best friend as you thought of what you might see in Art and Tashi’s room. 

With your heart racing and palms sweating, you mustered the courage to enter. Your eyes landed on the familiar skincare products on the bedside table, the ones Tashi had sworn by for years. Your gaze then shifted to the old leather-bound notebook on the desk, a gift you had given Art for Christmas the first year you dated, now a relic of your shared past. The mingling scents of their perfumes hit you next, a blend both comforting and foreign, causing a wave of nostalgia to crash over you.

When you finally had your fill of investigating the room like a detective for clues, you turned to see Tashi looking at you expectantly.

You blinked twice, refocusing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted green or chamomile,” she explained, holding up two unopened sachets of tea for you to choose from.

“Whichever you don’t want,” you decided, shrugging. The bed was perfectly made, and you supposed you could have chosen somewhere else to sit, but you felt like you might faint unless you found a seat. Awkwardly, you motioned to the bed, asking for permission.

“Of course, sit,” Tashi granted frantically, almost as flustered as you. 

She expected having you in her room would be strange, but didn’t realise she would be so nervous. Suddenly, she wanted you to think highly of her, even though she had given up on that long ago after that fateful fight that ended your friendship. Even the way Patrick glared at her downstairs rattled her a little. He had so much loyalty and respect for you, which he no longer had for her since she broke your heart.

Maybe that was the real reason he came to see her in Atlanta all those years ago, to get you to cut ties with him for good.

As Tashi poured the hot water into two teacups, you sat on the bed and tried not to let the weight of it all hit you. Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, you felt an unsettling intimacy and alienation as you nervously traced patterns on the unfamiliar quilt. Despite the lingering personal touches, the impersonal sterility of the hotel room offered you no real insight into the life Art and Tashi now shared. You were left grasping at fragments of the past, and it made you feel sad and hopeless. 

At least when you were with Patrick, you had the comfort of not being alone. Seeing a glimpse of Art and Tashi’s life together made you painfully aware of how long you had been alone. 

No best friend, no boyfriend, no husband, and no daughter. 

You allowed yourself to ask one question about Art. It was the polite thing to do, and then you wouldn’t have to awkwardly avoid the elephant in the room. After all, he was Tashi’s husband – and player – and was bound to come up in conversation.

“How’s Art doing?” you questioned, trying to keep your voice neutral. “I heard on the news he had surgery less than a year ago.”

“His recovery was almost miraculous,” Tashi replied, sitting beside you and passing you a plain white hotel teacup and saucer. “So he’s managed to adjust to his new routine really well despite everything that happened. His body hasn’t given up on him, but he isn’t quite there mentally yet. That’s the major obstacle for him.” 

You wanted to comment – typical Art, always stuck in his head – but said nothing. Instead, you wondered, “He isn’t quite where yet?” After saying it, you silently cursed yourself. That was two questions about Art. You were only going to let yourself have one. 

Tashi quirked an eyebrow as if she couldn’t believe you had to ask. “Where he needs to be to complete his career grand slam,” she reiterated. 

“Oh, right,” you said. The disappointment that everything led back to tennis sank in. You felt your shoulders slump and breath hitch, a subtle shift that went unnoticed by Tashi, who had forgotten many of your nonverbal cues. “Of course. Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out before the Open.”

“That’s actually why I asked you here,” Tashi revealed.

She carefully smoothed her expression, hiding the turmoil behind a calm facade as she placed her cup of tea on the saucer with deliberate care. Despite her efforts to look neutral, you could read the telltale signs of her preparing herself to say something shocking. Your observant nature picked up on the subtle tension, and you communicated silently for the first time in years when your eyes met hers. 

In a warning tone, you said, “Tashi,” putting your teacup on the floor. “What’s going on?” 

The air between you was thick with unspoken questions, and you were nervous. Suddenly, everything was starting to worry you. Why had Tashi reached out after so many years? Why had you immediately raced to her side, even though you didn’t owe her anything? Why was it so hard to let go of Art and Patrick when you spent more of your life without them than with them? Your instincts prickled with suspicion. Each beat of silence between you felt like walking on a knife’s edge.

“Art hasn’t been the same since the injury,” Tashi explained after a moment of hesitation. “It’s like he was expecting it to put him out of the game forever, and when it didn’t, he realised that everyone was expecting him to come back. So he did, and I thought he’d be fine, but he’s unfocused and unhappy, and it shows in his playing.”

“Tashi, stop,” you pleaded, gazing at her with huge eyes. “I already told you I don’t want to talk about Art.” 

“You asked about him!”

You scoffed at her weak rebuttal. “I was being polite, Tashi! I’m sitting on his bed with his wife, I thought I might as well acknowledge his existence so we can move on,” you retorted. 

“Art’s never going to achieve his career grand slam without you in his life,” Tashi declared. You froze. Nothing could have prepared you to hear those words leave her mouth. A palpable silence lingered between you as you gaped at your ex-best friend like a fish. Tashi took a deep breath. “That’s why I texted you to meet me. You’re the only one who can reignite his passion for tennis. He never played as well as he did when you were together, and he never played the same when you broke up. The only time he ever played with real fire was when he was playing to impress you, Y/I.” Her old nickname for you slipped out so seamlessly that you didn’t notice it. “I need your help.”

You shut your eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered.

She stared at you, trying to read your expression. “I never joke about tennis, Y/N. You know that,” Tashi replied.

“I’m leaving,” you declared in a monotonous voice. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot, I should never have come. I should have known this was just going to be about you coaching Art or something just as vapid.”

“You know I’m right,” Tashi insisted, trying to keep her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. Your stomach knotted at the sure tone in her words. “Ever since you broke up, he lost his love for it. He’s seconds from quitting, I feel it every time he looks at me. He’s tired, Y/N. More mentally than physically. But I think you can convince him to keep going.”

Your brows furrowed. “Even if what you’re saying made any sense and I agreed to do it – which I’m not – why would he listen to me?” you wondered, shaking your head. “Why would he care what I have to say? I haven’t spoken to Art in years, he has no reason to let me influence his decisions.”

Tashi leaned closer, her eyes intense. “Because he’s in love with you. He always has been. From the moment you walked out onto the court he’s been hooked and it never went away.”

“That’s not true,” you argued with her. “That was a lifetime ago! We were eighteen, he fell in love at first sight, and then we grew up.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Tashi demanded, incredulous. “I know my husband well enough to know he would do anything you asked. If you told him to leave me and never see Lily again he’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Your heart sank at her words, hurt painting your expression. “That’s a horrible thing to say, Tashi,” you whispered, glancing down at your lap. “You have to know that’s not true. I may not know Art anymore but he would never do that to either of you, especially your daughter.”

“He’ll listen to you because he admires you, Y/N. Your opinion is his gospel, you know that.”

“No, it’s not. We’re not eighteen anymore. He doesn’t follow me around Stanford with bouquets of lilies, and he certainly isn’t making me friendship bracelets–” you threw your hands in the air, trying to think of other examples– “or leaving me romantic notes in my dorm. He married you, he loves you!”

Tashi shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. “I know he loves me, Y/N. But he longs for you every day of his life,” she admitted, voice wavering. “Like a compass always pointing north, his heart unfailingly gravitates towards you. And now that you aren’t in his life anymore he doesn’t know what the right way is,” Tashi explained. “He’s lost.” You felt your throat tighten, your heartbeat pounding at her confession. “He’ll do anything you say. If you ask him to keep playing, he will.”

“Even if that’s true, he can’t play for anyone other than himself,” you pointed out. “We know what it takes to make it in tennis, it’s going to take everything he has. If you say his heart isn’t in it then he’s going to quit regardless of what anyone tells him to do.”

“His heart is too busy searching for you to know what he wants,” Tashi retorted. “He’s lost his way and only you can help him find it again.” Her stare bore into yours, unwavering. “If you tell him to push through, he’ll find the strength to do it. I know you care about him, that’s why I’m asking you. Please, just talk to him. See if there’s anything left in him that wants to fight,” she begged.

Your mind swirled with memories of adolescence and the bond you once shared with Tashi. You felt a pang of sorrow, realising how far apart you had drifted. Perhaps all those things she used to say about your friendship were true. It’s like she’s the mirror reflecting the best parts of me back at myself, she had said in the hotel that night. Without her, I’m not sure I’d recognise the person staring back at me.

You certainly didn’t recognise the woman before you as Tashi, your former best friend.

“This is awful, Tashi,” you told her, thoroughly disappointed with her. “You just want him to push through to win one last grand slam? I won’t be responsible for–”

“I’m not asking you to be responsible for anything. I’m asking you to remind him why he loves the game. Just talk to him. You have a way of getting through to people, especially him,” Tashi insisted. She didn’t seem to grasp your concern, making you feel more distant from her than ever before. “You’re the strongest person I know. And I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe you could do it.” She reached out, placing a hand on yours. You felt the beads of her friendship bracelet on your fingers and flinched. “Please, Y/I. He needs you, we both do.”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your emotions in check. Your heart was heavy, and it hurt for Art. The fact that he was so unhappy in his career was concerning, especially when you had so many fond memories of him playing at Stanford and expressing how much he loved the sport. The weight of Tashi’s request settled over you like a dense fog. You weren’t sure how to navigate the murky waters of this situation.

You inhaled shakily. “Tashi, listen to me,” you said in a low tone, showing her that you weren’t messing around. “If Art is done, then he’s done.”

Tashi shook her head frantically. “No, wait–”

“He shouldn’t sacrifice his well-being for someone else’s expectations. Not yours, not the fans’, and certainly not mine.” Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, voice breaking slightly, “Even if everything you say is true, I would never force him to do something he doesn’t want for himself. You of all people should know why I won’t ever make someone play tennis when they’re finished with it.”

“This is different from what your mom did to you,” Tashi defended herself.

“It’s all the same when you’re living for someone else’s expectations and desires,” you replied. With shaking hands, you pushed Tashi away. “You don’t know what that’s like. It’s– it’s like swimming against a riptide and struggling to keep your head above water–” You exhaled shakily, the panic from those years returning momentarily– “And the water just keeps getting faster and pulling you under, but it doesn’t matter how much you fight because you’ve already lost yourself.” As the dam of your emotions finally broke, you felt the warmth of tears tracing down your cheeks. Your bottom lip trembled as you stood, staring down at Tashi. “I could never do that to anyone, especially not Art.”

“Y/N, wait! Just let me explain–”

You ignored Tashi, storming out of her hotel room. Your heart pounded with a mix of anger and pain from Tashi’s outrageous request, footsteps echoing down the living room as you let the door to the bedroom slam behind you. Each stride was fueled by the need to escape Tashi, and you wiped your face as you wrenched open the front door. Instead of looking out into the empty hallway, you immediately collided with a solid figure.

“Woah! Is everything– Y/N?” Art’s deep, familiar voice made you stare at him with wide eyes. He halted when he recognised you, and the typical expression of adoration kissed his face. Deep blue eyes wide and breath hitched, Art scanned your features like he couldn’t believe you were real.

The sight of him and everything Tashi had just told you brought a flood of overwhelming emotions crashing over you. When Art pulled you in for a hug, you didn’t fight it, letting him wrap his sturdy arms around you with a familiarity that almost mended the shattered pieces of your heart. Crying into his chest, the warmth and security of his embrace felt like a balm, soothing your raw emotions and momentarily making you feel whole again.

His familiar scent enveloped you, stirring a wave of nostalgia that made your chest tighten with comfort and longing. The warmth of his strong embrace felt like coming home, his heartbeat steady under your cheek, just like it always was. His whispered reassurances, soft and sincere, made the world outside fade into nothingness.

He was just Art, pure and unadulterated warmth.

As it turned out, Tashi was right. Now that he had seen you and held you, he didn’t want to let go of you again.

𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐀, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 – 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔. 𝟑:𝟒𝟗𝐏𝐌.

“This is so much nicer than my dorm,” Art complained, falling onto your bed the second you led him into your room. You laughed at the ungraceful way he kicked off his sneakers and burrowed himself into your lilac-coloured bedding, relishing in the fresh, earthy, warm scent he now associated with you. 

“That’s because some of us are into this new thing that makes places pretty and cosy so you don’t feel like you’re living in an empty shoebox,” you explained sarcastically, locking the door behind you and placing your backpack on the floor by your desk. “It’s called decorating.” 

Art hummed, too busy admiring you sleepily from where he had buried his face in your pillows to banter with you. He watched you sit at your desk, your fingers deftly fixing your hair so you were more comfortable before you meticulously arranged your pens and notes. Smiling, Art marvelled at your concentration. Even though you had just returned from your shared Philosophy class, you were ready to prepare for the paper that was just assigned. Every detail – from how you furrowed your brow in thought to the pleased curve of your lips – made his heart swell with admiration. He loved that you loved studying. Seeing your passion and discipline ignited a warmth in his chest and a flutter in his stomach that he could never shake.

You could feel his gaze on you, a comforting presence that had become an integral part of your Thursday study routine, and it made you smile as you highlighted your assignment instructions. Art’s deep blue eyes, a steady and reassuring anchor, were woven into your day. They were a warmth you missed when he wasn’t around, and you tried not to let that terrifying realisation ruin your friendship. At this moment, with the peaceful quiet of the dorm and the shared warmth between you, you felt perfectly content, appreciating how your bond had grown into something so beautifully close over the last few weeks.

This had become your Thursday routine. You went to class together, grabbed a coffee or smoothie to reward Art for attending class, and then returned to your dorm, where you studied for an hour as he watched you. It had been nearly four weeks since the quarter started, and you and Art were tethered more closely than you and Tashi these days. 

You and Tashi were assigned the same residence house when you arrived on campus at the end of September. Both of you were sure it was because Rinconada was a mere ten-minute walk from the tennis centre, which was convenient. After all, you had practice three times a week and team workouts on top of that. Even though it sounded like a lot, the off-season practice schedule at Stanford was far less rigorous than what your mother and coaches made you do in high school. 

In fact, playing tennis at Stanford was far sweeter than you had pictured.

Being on the tennis team gave you a built-in community of other women your age and kept you close to Tashi at all times. Your room was just down the hall from her, and now you got to train with her almost every day. At times, your life at Stanford felt like it was orbiting tennis, but even that feeling disappeared after the first two weeks of classes. Without the pressure of your perfectionistic mother, you were actually enjoying tennis.

It allowed you to fall in love with the sport based on fun and community rather than competition. 

Bumping into Art all over campus was inevitable.

He lived in the same residence hall as you – though not the same building – which meant you constantly saw him in the dining hall or during tennis team workouts. After a couple days of dodging him, you realised that Art was unavoidable and indulged in your desire to see him again. Once you discovered you shared your introduction to Philosophy class, you knew it would be better to be friends than avoid him.

Your classes were academically rigorous and thought-provoking, and Tashi and Art thought you fit right in. While the two of them were lucky if their attention spans let them take detailed notes for one class, you volunteered opinions and debated other students without holding back. The first time you responded to another student in your shared Philosophy class with Art, he couldn’t stop grinning at you. Somehow, you just belonged at Stanford. Your classmates and professors liked you, but not as much as the blond who sat beside you.

In just a month, Art had become a vital part of your college experience and daily routine, his presence seamlessly integrating into your life. Every time your eyes met, you saw his face light up, and a warm flush spread through you, making you feel cherished. Even after he said goodnight after dinner, his deep blue-eyed stare lingered in your mind.

While the sunny weather and friendly people at Stanford made the experience enjoyable, nothing compared to the comfort and contentment you felt with Art. His company grounded you in this new chapter of your life.

Most importantly, your conversations with Art didn’t all revolve around tennis. As much as you loved Tashi, she had become even more engrossed in tennis, and it was slowly the only thing she wanted to talk about. Art, on the other hand, wanted to talk about what you learned in class and had questions about how you grew up and your interests outside of tennis. It was refreshing to get to know someone so quickly, scratching below the surface and really understanding the depths of his personality. 

“Do you ever get bored just lying there, staring at me?” you asked Art, glancing up from your notes to meet his irises. You felt a flutter in your stomach as you did, studying the glazed-over way he expressed his feelings. Somehow, you could tell simply by looking at Art that he was falling for you. You could see it on his face and in his body language. It made you terribly afraid, but you had nowhere to run when your lives at Stanford were so interlaced. 

His lips curved into a charming smile that worsened the rapid beat of your heart. “How could I ever get bored when I’m with you?” Art argued, looking at you with nothing but utter devotion. “I’ll just tag along with you for the rest of our time at Stanford. By then, you’ll be so used to me that you won’t even question when I keep doing it afterwards.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” you whispered, avoiding his stare when it all became too much for you. “You’re betraying our unspoken agreement that we’re just going to forget the night in the hotel and be friends.”

Art chuckled, sitting up and letting your duvet fall, revealing his red Stanford tennis t-shirt. “We never agreed on that,” he pointed out.

“Hence the unspoken nature of the agreement,” you emphasised.

Art watched you closely, noting how your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your t-shirt and how you kept biting your lower lip. Sometimes, when Art found himself getting a little too honest for your taste, your eyes would dart away from him, a dead giveaway of your inner turmoil. Knowing your tendency to avoid your feelings, Art felt a pang of frustration and longing. He really liked you and wished you would confront your emotions.

To make you smile, Art resorted to your usual way of escaping awkward situations: humour. “Would it help if I dyed my hair brown and started speaking in a Spanish accent?” he asked, referring to your favourite tennis player.

You scoffed, “Very funny, Arthur.” 

Getting up from your desk, you approached your bed and playfully pushed Art’s chest. He caught your wrist and held it, smiling up at you with those devoted blue eyes of his. Slowly, Art let his fingers slide down your wrist to your palm, making you shiver as he intertwined your hands. A surge of warmth travelled up your arm. The gentle pressure of his fingers interlacing with yours felt both electrifying and soothing. Like a silent promise whispered through his touch.

“I made you something,” Art told you, his voice so soft and tender that you could only nod. 

He rifled through the pocket of his jeans and held a friendship bracelet in his free palm. You let out a gleeful laugh as you picked it up, admiring the way Art had perfected the pattern necessary to make the beads on the bracelet look like a vine interlinked with pink flowers. In white beaded letters, he spelt the words DATE FRIDAY AT 7?

As Art waited for your reaction, his heart pounded with anticipation and dread, hoping you would appreciate the effort he put into making the bracelet. His hand trembled in yours, betraying the facade of calmness he tried to maintain as you inspected the delicate bracelet. Memories of the countless failed attempts flashed through his mind, each lost bead and snapped elastic a testament to his determination to create something special for you. Despite the hours spent perfecting the technique, doubt crept into his mind, questioning whether his creation would meet your expectations. 

Yet, as you lifted your eyes and smiled at him, the weight of uncertainty lifted.

“Did you really make this for me?” you asked, bewildered that someone had taken the time to sit down and create something from scratch just for you.

Art nodded, heart warming when he saw tears of joy forming in your waterline. “Do you like it?” he wondered, trying not to let the insecurity he felt crawl its way into his voice. 

You pulled your hand out of his and slipped the bracelet on, cupping his face and pulling him in for a desperate kiss that rivalled your first one. At that moment, all the pent-up emotions of the past month flooded to the surface, mingling with the warmth of your kiss. Art held you close, pulling you into his lap and holding your waist, relieved that you were finally allowing yourselves to express your feelings for each other. It was a kiss born of longing and desperation, imbued with the relief that one of you had finally decided to cross the line between friends and more than friends.

Dragging your fingers through his blond hair, you accidentally knocked the red Stanford tennis hat, which he wore backwards, from his head. You felt the vibration of his groan against your lips when you gently tugged on his curls and smiled, satisfied that you had elicited a reaction from him. He tilted your face and met your lips in an ardent kiss that left you shivering. You kissed Art over and over again, and it never felt like enough, no matter how many times you did it. He was everywhere. Touching your hips below your t-shirt, brushing your face gently with the pads of his thumbs, pulling you closer with a fervour you had never felt before. Art only broke for air to kiss down the expanse of your neck and across your collarbones as you sighed happily. 

He pecked your lips once before leaning back and grinning. You almost wanted to cry seeing Art like this. His blond curls were windswept, and his lips were red and perfect, and it hurt that he was so beautiful. Pink dusted his cheekbones and chest, and his hands lightly ran up your thighs like in the hotel that night. 

“I love it,” you answered Art’s question, indulging in a sweet kiss to emphasise your point. “Thank you, Art. Nobody’s ever…” You cleared your throat.

“I know,” Art admitted. He held your hand, brushing his thumb across the beads he had arranged and smiling. “You told me the night we met, at the party. I stand by what I said, they’re all idiots. You deserve the world, Y/N.”

Admittedly, the bracelet felt like a sign.

It gleamed in the sunlight, a delicate web of beads woven together with care and precision by Art’s hands, a tangible testament to his thoughtfulness and effort. As you admired it, a warmth spread through your body. It wasn’t just about the bracelet, but what it represented – the culmination of your shared moments and his genuine understanding of your passions. 

Looking into his eyes, you felt a sense of belonging you had only known with Tashi in the past. With each glance at the bracelet adorning your wrist, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that it symbolised the beginning of something beautiful between you. It was as if all the puzzle pieces had finally clicked into place. In Art’s gesture, you found the courage to lower your defences. It didn’t feel necessary to run away now that he had been vulnerable with you.

It wasn’t just about the friendship bracelet but the unspoken promise of it. You truly believed that Art would cherish your heart as tenderly as he had crafted the beads on your wrist. 

“So…” Art trailed off, laughing nervously. “I was supposed to give you that bracelet a few days ago, giving you more time to think about going on a date with me, but I lost my nerve so many times and now I’ve only given you 24 hours notice and I don’t want you to feel rushed, so–”

“Pick me up tomorrow at seven,” you interjected. “I’ll be waiting.”

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

From: pzweig88@gmail.com To: ynln@stanford.edu Date: October 25, 2006 Subject: Hello from the road

Y/N,

When little Artie told me that he had a girlfriend, I knew I had to find a loophole in our agreement and ask you what the hell you see in that guy. I mean, I know he’s good-looking, amazing at tennis, rich, and an overall decent guy, but I just don’t think he’s good enough for you. (Tone is hard to convey over email, I hope you know I’m kidding. I’m happy for the both of you, you’re one handsome couple) Since I asked Tashi for her number and therefore forfeited all rights to yours, I hope you don’t mind that I managed to swindle your email out of your boyfriend. 

How are you? I bet you’re loving Stanford. You must walk into any room and have no shortage of admirers.

I would know. I was one of them.

Patrick

From: ynln@stanford.edu To: pzweig88@gmail.com Date: October 26, 2006 Subject: RE: Hello from the road

Dear Patrick,

It’s so great to hear from you! Tashi told me a little about your matches so far. Good to know you’re still kicking ass, even once you’ve gone pro. (Not that I expected anything less of THE Patrick Zweig.) 

Technically, I’m not Art’s girlfriend. We’ve just been on a couple dates (which have, of course, been amazing) so we haven’t made anything official yet. Maybe once we hit the one-month mark, I’ll ask you for some advice? After all, you managed to bag Tashi Duncan, so you must be doing something right.

No admirers so far, although I wonder how many of them would dare to speak up when I’m usually flanked by Tashi and Art. Not the most welcoming sight, but they’re great. I love having them here. It makes everything feel more like home.

You’re right. I love it here. My English classes are amazing, and the professors are incredible. Everything is even better than I imagined. I’m taking a legal studies class that’s kicking my ass, but it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever studied. I know it’s only one class, but it’s really making me consider attending law school after all this. There’s just something about memorising all the cases and analysing the arguments that challenge me in a way I’ve never been challenged before.

This must all sound terribly boring to a literal pro tennis player. How are you doing? Are you getting along with the other guys on tour? Do you miss Tashi a lot? I bet you do. What city are you in? What city has been the worst so far?

Tell me everything!

Love, Y/N

From: pzweig88@gmail.com To: ynln@stanford.edu Date: October 28, 2006 Subject: RE: Hello from the road

Dear Y/N,

I think you’d make a brilliant lawyer. After all, you do have a comeback for everything.

I’m good, the tour isn’t exactly what I thought it would be, but it’s not bad. The other guys are okay. They’re no Art Donaldson, but they’ll have to be good enough for now. I do miss Tashi. I miss all of you. Right now, I’m in Nottingham, but I’m catching a flight to Louisville in a few hours. There’s a Challenger there in a couple days. On to Nashville after that. Every city’s been great so far, actually. No complaints from me. 

I can just imagine Art and Tashi glaring at everyone who wants to approach you like they’re your bodyguards.

So much for not being your boyfriend, I heard otherwise! And you didn’t go on a couple dates, you’ve been on six dates. In two weeks. Sounds like Stanford’s nowhere near as hard as they say it is if you’ve got all this time for tennis and dating. (Again, hope you can tell that I’m joking) 

To be honest, the constant travel and competition makes me feel a little lonely sometimes. I call Tashi whenever I can, but it’s not the same as being there with her in person. I’m constantly surrounded by people, but it’s all very disconnected, like I’m on the outside looking in. I feel like my life’s going by, and I’m watching it like a movie instead of doing things. Is that crazy? It sounds crazy. Without Art, the matches feel harder, and the victories don’t mean as much.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, you must be busy with practice and school. And I know you don’t want to talk about tennis.

I knew you would love Stanford. You’ve got that whole quiet contemplative thing about you that people at college really love. I could use some of that these days.

Patrick

From: ynln@stanford.edu To: pzweig88@gmail.com Date: October 28, 2006 Subject: RE: Hello from the road

Dear Patrick,

I know exactly how you feel. To be honest, that’s one of the reasons I’m so glad my mom let me quit playing tournaments while I’m in college. She doesn’t know that I’m quitting tennis after Stanford (and I can’t wait for that trainwreck of a conversation) but I used to feel so isolated and disconnected at those tournaments. People aren’t usually looking for friends, and all the constant competition made me feel more lonely than victorious.

I’m sorry you haven’t found your footing on tour yet. But you aren’t crazy, Patrick. You’re a great player and an even better guy, so I hope things start working out for you soon. 

Just know that you’re more than your victories and losses. That’s what my dad used to tell me when I got too wrapped up in everything. Behind the tennis player, there’s a person.

Take some time off, go sightseeing, and ask the nicest person on tour to get coffee with you. And call Tashi and Art more because I know they love hearing from you. Maybe they’ll make you feel closer to home too, just like they do for me. 

You may be right about me and Art. I guess I don’t want to be too hasty because I keep thinking I’m in some sort of dream, but then I look at him and he’s just… Art. Pure and unadulterated warmth.

Oh yeah, Stanford’s a cakewalk. All that stuff about it being hard and time-consuming is total bullshit. Once you’re here, professors just give you an A for showing up. (Can you tell that I’m joking? I’m in the library procrastinating an eight-page paper on a concept I barely understand. Send help!)

Art and Tashi are exactly like bodyguards! That’s the perfect way to say it!! They just have those faces that look so serious if they’re not smiling, and I guess that can be intimidating if you haven’t seen them so drunk off their asses that they cried when they found out that beavers mate for life, as I have.

Also, drunk Art really knows how to throw it back. Who knew he had all that cake on him?

Let me know if I can help in any way. As it turns out, tennis is a cruel lover but I keep coming back to it. The breakup with tennis is more of an on-again-off-again situationship. Too complicated to explain. But we don’t have to talk about tennis. I’m always around if you need to talk about anything.

Good luck in Louisville!! I hope you make some friends soon.

Love, Y/N

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: reader and art are so clearly so high school by taylor swift, especially “no one’s ever had me, not like you” and “you know how to ball, i know aristotle” ugh i love them 😭

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - part 14.1

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | previous part | masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: okay babes I’m desperate to get this out bc this part is going to be so fucking long I had to break it up into parts

“Rhys, stop!”

Feyre’s shriek of annoyance draws your attention to the front, your eyes watching Feyre chastise Rhysand for driving almost 30 miles per hour over the speed limit. You and Azriel were in the backseat of Rhys’s car (“It’s a Tesla,” Rhys would correct), Feyre in the front seat making several comments about the way Rhys drives as if he is attempting to murder all of you.

Mor and Cassian drove separately in Cassian’s truck - you and Azriel snickered at their less than covert attempts to be alone in the apartment. The six of you had been about to hit the road when Cassian had ‘forgotten his driving sunglasses’ and Mor had immediately offered to help. Rhys had rolled his eyes, telling Cassian the four of you were going to head off instead of waiting for them.

Rhys’s lake house was about an hour and a half away, so you and Azriel had spent that time in the back mindlessly chatting, showing each other silly videos of mostly cats. Feyre sat in the passenger seat, deeming herself in charge of the music, the three of you not caring what she put on.

Whenever Rhys and Feyre were too preoccupied in their own conversation to notice the two of you, you would slip your hand into one of Azriel’s, playing with his fingers or just squeezing lightly before pulling away.

“When do we think Cassian will show up?” You ask, making eye contact with Rhys in the rearview mirror. He scoffs, turning his eyes back to the road, “no telling. He’ll get hungry eventually, so he’ll probably show up around dinner.”

The six of you met up around two, you and Azriel almost arriving late because of your lunch date taking too long. Neither of you wanted to pretend there wasn’t something between you two, but both of you wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone, causing the two of you to linger in the parking lot for far too long, neither of you wanting to keep up the charade.

The impending deadline didn’t stop him from kissing you as if he were going off to war in the parking lot of the cafe you two went to, though. You could still taste the coffee he had on your tongue.

Feyre sighed, looking out the window, “maybe I shouldn’t have put my bag in his truck.”

You laughed, partly at her melodramatics, partly at how foolish she was to leave her bag in Cassian’s truck, “I don’t think you’re seeing that bag for a while, Fey.”

She turns her head to look at you, a scowl on her face, “you make it sound like this is my fault.”

“Well, we did put Cassian and Mor in a car together, so maybe the group is at fault. Just be thankful they didn’t pull over and have sex on top of your bag.”

Her scowl deepened, a look of disgust on her features, “my poor bag would never be the same. I would never be the same.”

“You’d have Cassian butt sweat on it.”

“Ewww, stop.”

“Or worse, his butt hair.”

You laugh as Feyre whips her head to scowl at Rhys, “and how do you know about his hairy butt?”

“Cassian spent our teenage years with a new approach to life - he was determined to be naked at any and every opportunity.” You giggle at Azriel’s words, his ears reddening a bit at the attention you were giving him.

“My mother considered kicking him out because he kept walking around naked and standing in the windows.”

You and Feyre giggled at the image, but Rhys continued. “Our neighbors kept calling and complaining. I’m actually not sure how she got him to stop.”

“She probably bribed him. It’s the only way with him.” You quirk an eyebrow at Azriel before he continues, “nothing ever got to him as a kid - yelling, getting in trouble, praising him. But bribery always worked on him.”

You turn to Azriel, pointing your head in the direction of the front seat, “what was Rhys like as a kid.”

Az huffs, “same as now. Spoiled and annoying.”

Rhys glares at him through the rearview mirror, but Az continues. “He was a bit pompous, always talking about how rich his family was.”

You watch Az try to keep from smiling as Feyre laughs, before reaching a hand out to pinch Rhys’s cheek. The movement pings something in your mind, telling you to ask about it later.

“I did not.”

“You once came to school in a helicopter.”

Rhys sinks a bit in his seat, but you file this whole conversation away in a folder of your brain titled ‘ask again later’. You had a vague sense of things you had picked up over time - Rhys’ parents were technically married, but his dad would travel a lot. Rhys’ mother and sister died at some point. Somehow Azriel and Cassian came into the picture.

It was a bit fuzzy, and you never found out why Cassian lived on his own away from Rhys and Az. You had little pieces, but you needed some way to connect the. You filed it away, just allowing yourself to enjoy the car ride.

The ride eventually reached a lull where the two of you sat in the backseat texting each other while Feyre and Rhys talked mindlessly about goats, maybe. You really weren’t sure what was going on up there.

Azriel: did you know all the guys in this town are riddled with disease

Azriel: so you shouldn’t get anywhere near them

Azriel: just to be safe

You: I like disease-riddled men

Azriel: is now a good time to tell you I had chicken pox as a kid

You: oh really?

You: Mmm itchy men

Azriel: I regret this

You: do you have any scars from it?

Azriel: that’s classified

You: I’ll just have to go around searching for them from other men

Azriel: wait no

Azriel: no no no no no

Azriel: this is a joke right

His eyes snap up to you after you refuse to respond to him, and you have to stifle a giggle at the way he’s looking at you.

You: I’m a changed woman. I prefer disease free men now

Azriel: thank god you’ll stay away from Cassian now

You look up at him with wide eyes before you type back furiously.

You: Azriel we share an apartment what do you mean

You: I let him drink my coffee the other day

You: Azzy please tell me you’re joking

You huff as each of your texts is met back with the three dots indicating he was typing. You looked over at him to find him typing random letters before backspacing to allow the dots to stay up.

You: meanie head

Azriel: you’re the one who said you preferred disease riddled men

You: they wouldn’t treat me like this

You: I would be a queen to them

You: me and my disease riddled king

Azriel: that implies you are their diseased queen

The two of you continue trying to stifle giggles as Rhys drives, Az’s hand moving to squeeze your thigh. You’re so distracted by texting him and his hand on your thigh you don’t notice where you are until the car is pulling into a neighborhood of massive houses that could likely fit multiple families with room to spare. You sit up straighter, looking out the window at these multi-dollar houses and wonder if this was a vacation home, what did Rhys’ house look like growing up?

You knew Rhys’s dad’s lake house was going to be a ridiculously large house. You knew that before, you knew that as the car drove through the neighborhood, but pulling up into the driveway it was as if you had completely forgotten. The house was massive - it had to be at least three floors above ground, and the property it was on was large too.

Rhys’ car slows across the long driveway, no other cars around. You have to strain your neck to look at the house in its entirety - it was beautiful - three or four floors, large windows showing off spacious areas on the second and third floors. It was a mix of the classic lakehouse look, but with slightly modern twists to it. All you could think about while looking at it was how long it would take to clean it. Most of your squabbles with Cassian were over whose turn it was to do dishes, and you knew this place would really test your friendship with him if you lived here.

Or maybe he’d just be able to better hide his messes in this house.

“How long would this take to clean?”

Your voice comes out a bit squeaky before you clear your throat, looking over at Az.

“You think Rhys’s dad does his own cleaning?”

Rhys parks his car in the garage, the four of you getting out. Rhys opens the trunk, and you reach out to grab your bags but Azriel beats you to it, slinging your duffle bag over his shoulder. He crinkles his nose at your pout, sticking his tongue out as he walks into the house. You follow after him, taking in how nice his back looked through his shirt.

Azriel heads to the stairs, taking Feyre to her room, but you fall back to take in the living room. You could host a house party in this living room and fit a hundred people easily. You siddle next to Rhys, watching him play with the lid of his coffee in one hand, his phone lit up in the other.

“Are you worried at all about your dad showing up?”

Rhys sips his coffee before answering, “I’d be more shocked than anyone if he showed up here. Az, Cass, and I once spent an entire summer camped out here. Didn’t even catch a glimpse of him.” He shrugs, his face looking indifferent as his phone screen displays the ‘find my friends’ app, and he looks quizzically at the screen, trying to figure out where Cassian was, you presume.

He blows out a breath, “I’m gonna call him.”

You walk away, opting to look at the photos that decorated the walls. The living room is covered in them, all shapes and sizes of frames littered the yellow wall. You see photos of younger versions of Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys, photos from when they were about ten or so until pretty recently, if you had to guess. You can watch them grow, the three of them looking so unsure of themselves at various stages.

The young photos of Azriel are littered with an air of sadness to them, his eyes not quite as bright as they are now, bandages still lingering on his hands for a long time. Azriel’s the smallest in what you think is the first photo, not much more than skin and bones, his now tan skin had a sickly pale hue to it. A woman and a young girl are in the photos with them, the five of them all looking remarkably similar - it’d be very easy to convince others that the two boys were Rhys’s brothers. The photos are all tan skin, dark curls limp in some photos from the ocean water. They are scattered across the wall, no chronological order to them, but if you lined them up you could watch the three of them grow.

The photos made you feel a well of emotion - how someone could be so cruel to someone so small, so defenseless. But as the photos continued and Azriel blended in more with this family, it made you feel so proud of him for opening himself up like that, when all he knew was pain.

He hadn’t told you the extent of his childhood - just that his family was awful, he hadn't seen or spoken to them in a decade, and his step brothers burned his hands. But the pictures of this small, helpless boy looking so lost at the lake spoke volumes for him.

Rhys put the phone down from his ear as he hung up. “They’ll meet us at the restaurant for dinner. He muttered something about a pit stop before hanging up on me.”

He gazes at the photos as he stands next to you, his eyes landing on the one you’ve been staring at. It involved a very young Azriel, fresh bandages adorning his hands. The striking woman was holding him so delicately, as if her arms squeezed him too hard he’d burst in her hold.

“That’s my mom.”

His voice catches you off guard, not expecting much of anything from him. He points at the photo, his finger tapping slightly on the glass.

“She’s beautiful.”

He hums in agreement, “she loved Az. She fought so hard for him. First person to fight for him, really. Spent a shit ton of money getting custody of him.”

That surprises you, but you leave it there for now, keeping your eyes on her smiling face. His gaze lingers on her soft smile, “she loved all of us, but boy did she love Az.”

You watch his mind go somewhere, not wanting to intrude, about to step away when he speaks up again. “That’s my sister. Kaylah.”

His finger moves to a photo nearby, landing on the young girl that Cassian had hoisted on his shoulders.

“She’s cute.”

“She loved bothering Cassian. The two of them butted heads more than any of us combined.” His voice was full of love and nostalgia. “She once got so mad at him she pulled her shoe off and threw it at his head. He was so chuffed he didn’t notice her throw the other, both of them hitting his eyes. He had a black eye for weeks.”

You laugh, “oh my gods, what happened?”

“What happened?” He turned to you, a wide grin on his face, “we got kicked out of the restaurant we were in, and she had the audacity to ask for her shoes back because they landed at another table.” He laughs, a twinkle in his eye you had never seen before. “Oh, Kaylah was something. She always made us laugh.”

“What happened to her?”

Rhys looks down, the twinkle immediately leaving his eye, “she and my mom were hit by a drunk driver when we started school. We- it was a hard time.”

You look over at him, tentatively moving your arms around his waist and hugging him to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezes you back, his citrusy scent filling your nose. “Me too.”

The two of you gaze at the photos, at a time long gone, standing in silence as if an embrace could change the ending for the subjects of the photos.

The moment’s broken by Feyre’s voice, “what’s going on here?”

You turn your face to look at her, head still against Rhys’s chest, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We’re in love. He’s having my baby.”

She gasps overdramatically, clutching her chest as she puts on a ridiculous voice, “oh my stars! The scandal!”

You giggle as Rhys unwraps himself from you, “we were going to tell everyone while we were here, but it’s true. We’re naming the baby Cassian Junior.”

Feyre breaks her resolve, giggling, “how is it Cassian Junior?”

“Cassian’s adopting him, of course.”

Feyre giggles before coming to the wall of photos, looking too. “Wow, you guys were so little!”

You laugh, “yeah now we have proof Cassian wasn’t born with a six pack.”

“A six pack of beer, maybe.”

Azriel’s voice startled you. How a man so large was so adept at sneaking up on you unaware was impressive. He stopped behind you, but you could feel his warmth through your back.

“That would explain a lot,” Rhys mutters, turning away from the photos and sitting onto the couch. He stretched out his long legs, propping them on the ottoman before him. “That drive took a lot out of me.”

“It was two hours,” you scoff, sitting on a nearby chair. Azriel followed you, sitting in the chair next to you.

“Two hours is a long time.”

“Maybe for a baby,” Feyre coos, sitting next to Rhysand, pinching his cheeks. His hands swat at hers, pushing her away with very little effort. The four of you mindlessly chatter away, Feyre telling you all about something one of her sisters recently did, until Rhys’s phone buzzed again, Mor texting him that they were half an hour away.

The four of you jump back into Rhys’ Tesla, and he rolls down the windows as he drives you all to some restaurant called ‘Mama’s’.

“But ‘Mama’s’ what?” You had asked, to which Rhys and Az shrugged.

“Just ‘Mama’s’.”

You had huffed, accepting the nonanswer for the time being. The windows give you a glimpse of the tax brackets you drove through - starting the journey in multi-million dollar homes occupied during the warm months, the landscape quickly changes to lower and middle class homes for the people who live here year round.

Rhys pulls the car into a small restaurant, fitted with outdoor lighting and seating. It was so homey - a dozen or so people stood around outside, playing some variety of games like checkers and cornhole. A couple dozen more sat at tables, eating what smelled to be the most enticing food ever created. Your stomach rumbles at the smell, and Feyre laughs at you before you poke her in the stomach with an elbow.

You spot Cassian leaning against his car, Mor standing next to him on her phone. He stretches his arms out, huffing, “finally, we’ve been waiting for you!”

Rhys promptly pushes him as he walks past, and Mor giggles as he falters a bit and she falls in line with you and Feyre and you gag at her. “You smell like sex.”

She gasps, “no I do not,” before discreetly smelling her shirt.

“No, you don’t. Made you sniff.”

She rolls her eyes, copying your words in an exaggerated voice.

The six of you find a table, and you’re seated in the middle of the booth with Feyre and Rhys next to you. Azriel sits on the end of the other booth, and you make brief eye contact across the table, sending him a soft smile.

The waitress comes up to your table, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her black clothes making her eyes pop, her name tag reading ‘Steph’. She looked at all of you, but her eyes stopped on Azriel, her smile growing wider at the sight of him.

“Hi everybody, what can I get you all to drink?”

She takes your drinks orders, rubbing Azriel’s shoulder as she walks away. Cassian laughs at Azriel’s grimace, “I think she likes you, Azzy.”

“Shut up, Cass.”

Azriel looked to you as your friends kept talking, and you offered him a smile back. His face was hard to read, but his eyes looked so sad. You cock your head to the side, trying to figure out what the problem was, but he turned his head away.

Dinner goes by in a blur, the food was delicious, the six of you spent the evening joking around, except for Azriel, who spent most of the meal quiet. The waitress came by to check on you all several times, and her blatant efforts at flirting would have been amusing if it wasn’t completely obvious how uncomfortable it made Azriel. Each time she returned to your table, you would watch him tense up as she approached, her hands always finding their way to his shoulders. On her third stop at your table, she began calling him Muffin.

Rhys paid the check, handing over the receipt to Azriel.

“For you, Muffin.”

Azriel takes it, and from next to him you can see the phone number written beneath the total. His hands crumple it, discarding it before you all made it to the parking lot. He opens your door before heading to the other side of the car after you slide into your seat. You immediately pull out your phone, your texts with Azriel lighting up the backseat.

You: hi Muffin

Azriel: I’m so sorry

You: why? Did you do something?

Azriel: for the waitress?

You: did you do something with the waitress?

You: I did go to the bathroom, maybe you slipped out and made out with her?

You can hear Azriel furiously typing on his phone.

Azriel: no no no no

Azriel: I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry she was hitting on me.

Azriel: I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to tell her I had a girlfriend

You: you have a girlfriend?

You: and you’ve been making out with me?

You: you dog

You peak over at him and his face is a deep red. You want to laugh but you feel a little bad about your teasing once you see his fingers shaking, having to backspace several times over misspelled words.

Azriel: I think so

Azriel: I didn’t mean to imply anything

You: so, you don’t have a girlfriend?

Azriel: I don’t know

Azriel: maybe?

You: do you want one?

You: a girlfriend, that is

Azriel: god yes

Azriel: but it has to be a specific girl

You: anyone in mind?

Azriel: I have my eye on someone

Series taglist: @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @impossibelle @hayrunnwr @just-a-social-casualty-1 @thisisew @brieflyclassymortal @glitterypirateduck @marshmummy @bookishbroadwaybish @azsteris @doriansgf @footyandformula @od-anon @judig92 @luvmoo @marina468 @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @acotarobsessed @maryssong23 @acourtofbatboydreams @herondale-lightworm @azrielover @carnelshephard

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading ❣️

[ln4smiamitrophy]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ————— part 1

𐙚 summary; the one where lando norris reunites with his childhood love at the Monaco Grand Prix and is convinced he’s over her. after all, it’s been 7 years. he can’t still love her, right?

ʚɞ pairing; lando norris x influencer!reader

ᡣ𐭩 fc; jadeybird on ig

⭒ type; irl x smau (there will be more smau in later parts)

⟡ a/n; i’ve come to realise that there aren’t many stories on here where the reader is mid/plus-sized. as a mid/plus-size girl myself, i personally can find it upsetting when there is mainly only representation of the body types that society deems to be conventionally attractive and not a lot of representation of others, they are common body types and they are attractive. i have struggled with body image in the past and i still do on occasion, if anyone who reads this ever needs anyone to talk to about this or literally anything else, feel free to message me and i’ll always get back to you. love you all, you beautiful people xx

comment to be added to my tag list <3

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Lando Norris loved the Monaco Grand Prix. Who didn’t? The history behind the race, the atmosphere, it was overall an amazing experience every year. And best of all, he was able to stay at home. When travelling so often meant never staying in one place too long, he was grateful for one time a year he could sleep in his own bed the night before a race.

It was race day and, as per, the track was as chaotic as usual. From the mechanics frantically checking to make sure the cars were ready for the race to the fans filling the track to the brim, it was hard to get a moment alone. In fact, Lando had barely had one since he stepped foot on the track. He’d been pulled into meetings and interviews left, right and centre.

Amongst all the chaos he finally has some time to himself as he heads to the track for the national anthem. He’s walking in silence, head down as he makes his way over. He keeps going over the strategy for the race in his head, he’s starting in p4. Overtakes are hard on this circuit, everyone knows that. All Lando wants this race is to preserve his tyres and hold his position.

It’s like the universe made it happen. Just as he lifted his head up, he’s met with someone he never thought he’d see again. Y/n. His first true love. They were together for three years, but when it became abundantly clear that Lando would be joining Mclaren for the 2019 formula one season, they couldn’t deal with the consequences that brought for their relationship, and ultimately it ended.

She doesn’t see him, and he’s almost relieved she didn’t. It’s been seven years since the end of their relationship, and yet upon seeing her he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she is. She’s changed, naturally, they were just teenagers when they separated. But she’s still as breathtaking as he remembers. He couldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. He pushes these feelings down, repressing them as much as he can as he finds his spot on the carpet and the national anthem begins. He needs to focus on the race.

———————————————————————

78 laps later and he was p4. Lando knew he probably wasn’t going to gain any positions during the race due to the circuit but he still can’t help but feel slightly disappointed in himself. Ever since his first win in Miami, since he was finally able to prove that he can win races, he’s craved it again. That feeling when he passed the checkered flag in first place, he wanted it again. It’s natural in his line of work to want to be the best, he’s surrounded by 19 other drivers who all want to be on that top step every weekend. But his teammate was p2, he was proud of him. Overall a good weekend for the team.

After the race was just as chaotic as the start, between interviews and press conferences and briefings, the only quiet time Lando gets is in between them. So that’s what he’s doing. Walking in silence towards the interview pen as his pr manager talks in his ear. He’s not paying attention to where he goes and so of course he has to walk into someone.

“Sor-“ He says looking up at them, expecting to send a small smile their way before continuing but that’s not what happens. “Y/n..”

“Lando…” Her voice is still as soft as it was all those years ago. He just gazes at her and neither makes a move to look away. That is until she clears her throat, looking down.

“How’ve you been?” Lando asks, a feeble attempt to get her to stay just a little longer. He doesn’t want her to walk away just yet. Just a moment longer.

“I’ve been well,” Glancing back up at him and he can tell she’s hesitant, he doesn’t blame her. Breathing out, she sighs before she speaks once more, “I watched Miami, congratulations on your first win.”

She still watched, she’d watched him win. He doesn’t quite know why he thought she wouldn’t; she’d always had a love for motorsports. It’s one thing they bonded over as teens.

“Thank you,” He can’t help the soft smile that graces his face. Lando mentally curses himself for glancing over her shoulder, being met with the slightly annoyed face of his pr manager. He should be in the pen by now.

He looks back at her, nodding. “I should probably go… it was good to see you.” She just nods at him, smiling softly, watching as he walks away.

Arriving at the pen, Lando takes a deep breath, forcing himself back into the driver headspace.

———————————————————————

Five hours later and he’s stood in a club, music blasting, bodies dancing all around him and he’s stood nursing the same drink for the past 20 minutes, taking with George. Normally Lando loves a party, out of the whole driver grid he’s the one you’re most likely to spot coming in and out of clubs on a Sunday night. But tonight he’s just not in the mood and he just can’t figure out why. Though he has reason to believe it’s got something to do with the girl he can spy dancing over George’s shoulder.

He can’t help but let his eyes dart towards her every couple minutes. He watches as she dances surrounded by people, laughing and smiling without a care in the world: he used to be able to make her do that. The countless nights they’d spend wrapped up in each other, talking about whatever came to mind, the soft giggles she’d let out anytime Lando said something even remotely funny as his hands would occupy themselves in her hair. They all came back to him as he watched her.

Clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink, he turns to George, dismissing himself before heading to the bar and deciding he was going to drink away the thoughts of the girl that was seemingly occupying his mind like a plague. He certainly does just that and three hours later, Lando is black out drunk basically lying down in the back of a taxi as Carlos sits there with him, making sure he gets home safely.

———————————————————————

A groan immediately falls from Lando’s mouth as he wakes up with a hangover straight from hell. He buries himself under his duvet until he finally decides he needs something for the pain. Peeling the duvet off of his body, he stands up, jumping slightly at his phone ringing. It’s Carlos.

“Please remind me to never drink again,” Lando states the moment he answers the phone and he’s met with Carlos laughing into his ear.

“It’s that bad?” The spaniard asks and Lando can hear his smirk down the phone. Letting out a grumbled “yes” Lando drags himself into the bathroom where he keeps his painkillers.

“What even happened?” Carlos questions him, “Didn’t you say you weren’t gonna drink much?”

“I don’t know,” Lando sighs, swallowing the painkillers, finishing the glass of water. He’s lying. He knows why but he’s not going to tell Carlos that.

His mind drifts back to the short conversation he had with her the day before. The way she danced in the club. The way she laughed. Her smile. Shaking his head, he pushes it down. He ends the phone call with Carlos, making the excuse he’s going back to bed, hoping to sleep off the hangover.

But he can’t get back to sleep, he’s never been able to fall back asleep after waking up, envying people who find it so easy. After 10 minutes of trying, he finds himself hauling himself into his living room, sprawling out on the sofa and watching whatever Netflix recommends him.

He has no clue what he’s watching but then again, he’s not really paying attention. His mind kept travelling back to her. No matter what he tried. He told himself it was just shock. The shock of seeing her again. And before he knew it, he was opening instagram, typing in her name and clicking her most recent post.

———————————————————————

y/nusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris and others

tagged yourbff, scuderiaferrari

y/nusername monaco, you are so sexy

thank you @scuderiaferrari for the invite <3

comments…

yourbff girls trips with you are the best <3

⤷ y/nusername i love you <3

user1 y/n being an f1 girlie is literally the best thing to ever happen to me

user2 y/n just proving “hot girls love f1” to be true

scuderiaferrari loved having you around

*liked by y/nusername*

⤷ y/nusername loved being around

alexandrasaintmleux loved meeting you, we need to hang out again!!

⤷ y/nusername you’re an angel, we need to!!

user3 i wanna party with y/n so bad

⤷ user4 me too!! she’s deffo the most fun ever

yourfriend1 missing you :/

⤷ y/nusername missing you more honeybun

user5 lando in the likes??

⤷ user6 he’s in the likes but they don’t follow each other

———————————————————————

part 2 soon !!

taglist; @soamericn @urfavwelshie @realcherryjam @danielshoe @coastalrainae

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 5.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: explicit content: mentions of jerking off and of fingering/cum play

☆word count: 2k

☆a/n: i am drunk have fun i love jin <3

☆join the discord server here!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook has been confused. He’s been confused since he woke up tangled up in bed with you, remembering the events of the night before. Remembering the feeling of you on his dick - how right it felt, yet how wrong it was.

It was wrong, because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You aren’t supposed to be together like that. Hell, without Taehyung, your paths would have never crossed. So he pulled away. Locked himself in a dark part of his mind, some place he doesn’t want you to ever set foot in, and he forced himself to distance himself from you. 

He knows you noticed. Maybe that’s why, when the power came back on, he didn’t immediately leave like he originally thought he would. But when you teased him from crying over the anime you watched, he knew your time was over.

No matter how much he didn’t want it to be. 

Does he blame you for growing annoyed? No. He understands. He understands why you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder. He thinks he deserves it, yet when he sees you at the library during his shift, he can’t help the way his heartbeat picks up in his chest, recognizing you for what you are.

Something he’ll never dare name.

So maybe it’s on purpose that he steps in your way when you’re walking out of the library. Maybe it’s to see what you’ll do, if you’ll speak the words he so desperately wanted you to say when he said it was time to go back to normal. Words he’ll also never dare think, because what if Taehyung knows?

What if Taehyung knows and he simultaneously loses his best friend and you?

Jungkook meets your gaze, a smile reaching for his lips, though he doesn’t let it reach its destination. Your friend Ria snorts, and Jungkook steps aside, frowning slightly. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks slowly turn red, even more so as you say, “Ignore her.”

His eyes find yours again. “Noted,” he lets out, and then it’s like the moment is stretching. It’s like it’s you and him alone in the library, Ria fading out of focus. He can almost imagine the power being out, and the bubble you’d been wrapped in still floating around the two of you.

But the bubble bursts when a girl speaks next to him - Allison, he thinks - though he reckons the bubble probably burst when he told you you should pretend nothing ever happened.

Allison says she needs help, and he has no reason to refuse considering that it’s part of his job, so he has to walk away, unable to tell you anything more. 

To his surprise, you don’t get home until much later that evening, while he’s a beer and a half in with Jimin, playing video games to decompress after work. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat, and he finds himself asking, “Done studying?”

You nod as you shrug, saying, “I can’t retain any more information. My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

“Maybe I could help with that,” he teases you, if only so that he can see that blush on your cheeks again.

The one that almost makes him forget that your brother is Taehyung.

Almost.

“You wish, JK.”

He does. He fucking does, and it’s all kinds of stupid that he does. Especially as Jimin is right there, hidden in the bathroom.

“Want a beer?” Jungkook asks even though he knows he shouldn’t. He just doesn’t want you to disappear in your room, not when you’re finally talking to him again. 

Jimin intervenes before you answer, convincing you to indeed share a beer with them, and a few seconds later, you’re joining Jungkook in the living room while Jimin goes to fetch a beer for you and him. You sit on Jungkook’s left, as far as you possibly can, and his heart does that weird thing again. It makes him feel awkward, and he clenches his jaw.

“Feel free to grab this if you get cold,” he says, motioning to the blanket on the table, if only so that he can cut through the awkwardness. He offers you a smile, gaze meeting yours, but you gulp as you look away.

“We should talk about…” you whisper.

His heart rate increases so suddenly he thinks he might be about to go into cardiac arrest. “What about it?”

You shoot him a warning glance, probably because it’s likely that Jimin heard, and it settles Jungkook’s heart in his chest. It makes no sense, especially not to himself, and he offers you a smirk. 

You blush, and he thinks he’s floating, but then Jimin walks out of the kitchen, interrupting the moment. He falls back down to Earth, and when Jimin suggests watching Attack on Titan, Jungkook finds himself saying.

Maybe because your gravity is pulling him in, and he doesn’t want the distraction of having to focus on a game. Hell, he’s not even sure he’d be able to focus - all he manages to do as the anime advances is lean infinitely closer to you. 

Action speaks louder than words, he reckons, because he finds himself half-sprawled on you, and it feels like heaven. For this peaceful moment, he doesn’t care that Jimin is right there, eyeing you suspiciously. He’s just happy to be with you, and he thinks it’ll have to suffice.

Jimin leaves right as the episode ends, claiming Sera is waiting for him. Jungkook knows that she isn’t - she was with Lisa tonight, but he won’t call Jimin out. Not when he thinks it might be because Jimin wants to leave you two alone, something he’s been craving more than he thought he did.

“So,” Jungkook lets out when Jimin has left. “You wanted to talk?”

His heart immediately starts beating wildly in his chest, and he disguises it by tilting his head to the side in what he hopes is an innocent gesture.

You nod once. “Yes.”

His heartbeat is so loud he barely can even hear you say the simple word, yet he replies, “I’m listening.”

“What should we do about Taehyung?”

The question lands like a blow to the face, and he sucks in a breath as regrets swirl within him. “Nothing.” He has to force the next sentence out, and it tastes bitter on his tongue. “We just pretend nothing happened, no?”

You don’t like it. He can tell that you don’t - you stiffen, turning ashen. 

“Is that what you want?” you ask.

No. Not at all. Not in a million years. But it’s the only possible outcome, so he hides his hands in the pockets of his pants, if only to hide the slight tremble that’s taken over them, tremble that he’s able to keep to a minimum, unaffecting his voice.

“Yeah. I don’t see why it would need to be a big deal,” he says.

But it is. It’s a big deal, and he never realized how good of an actor he is before today.

“It’s not a big deal,” you mutter. “‘I’m not trying to make it into a big deal.”

He’s an asshole, he knows he is. Rotten to the bone, as he says, “Right,” a smirk on his lips.

You’re annoyed. You shut your eyes, shaking your head. “No, for real,” you insist. “If you want us to just pretend that nothing happened, then we do that.”

He doesn’t want it, but isn’t it the safest option? Isn’t it saving you both the embarrassment and heartbreak that Taehyung would cause you if he knew?

“You awfully sound like that’s not what you want,” he forces himself to say, though he hopes you can hear the true meaning in his words. That it isn’t what he wants, though he can’t say it aloud. 

“I just don’t want things to get weird.” You pause, and then add, “Since we live together.”

On that Jungkook can reassure you. He’d never let things grow weird between the two of you.

“Don’t worry about it, peach,” he says. “I won’t make things weird.”

Yet, as he says the words, something aches. Especially as the silence stretches while you hold each other’s gaze until your eyes fall to the beer in your hand. Jungkook almost wants to tell you to look at him, to never stop looking at him.

Instead, he heads towards his room, wishing you good night over his shoulder.

*****

Emily is a nice girl. She’s gorgeous, Jungkook is entirely aware of it, yet he doesn’t find in her eyes what he’s looking for.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to find it again. Not when he sees you walking into the bar, carrying yourself with that gentle elegance that attracts the gaze. You eye him up and down, and then glance away. He follows your line of gaze to notice Hoseok walking towards you, and something very ugly settles deep in his chest as he watches Hoseok pressing a kiss on your temple. Jungkook clenches his jaw, and then forces himself to focus on Emily, even though he’d rather not be stuck with her right now.

And he remains stuck for a while until she says she has to go to the bathroom. He doesn’t miss it for the invitation that it is, yet he ignores it, telling her he’ll wait for her at the bar.

Especially considering that you’re in his vicinity again, talking to a long-haired blond guy, and you look uncomfortable as all hell. It shows in the tense spread of your shoulders, and in the way your eyes keep darting to the side. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, stepping closer.

“I realized that none of them compared to you,” Jungkook hears as he stops behind you, and his heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest at the blatant flirting. 

You take a step back, bumping into Jungkook, and he asks, “Hey, everything okay here?”

You meet his gaze, your eyes panicked, and Jungkook moves closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, trying to reassure you. The guy scoffs, and Jungkook holds you a little tighter, only because he can.

“You’re fucking your brother’s friend?” he asks.

Jungkook almost wants to say ‘What about it?’, but you push him off of you, and he stumbles back, eyes going round.

“I am not,” you spit, and it hurts far more than it should. “Maybe he just tried to step in because you can’t fucking take a clue, can you?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence as Jungkook finds himself stifling a surprised laugh.

“Excuse me?” the guy eventually says.

“You heard the lady,” Jungkook intervenes. “Fuck off.”

The seething look you throw Jungkook’s way almost makes him cower from how unexpected it was. 

“I don’t fucking need your help,” you throw at him.

Something definitely aches now, and Jungkook frowns, watching as you slightly shake your head, an apologetic look on your features. But he’s stunned silent, stunned realizing how much he wanted to protect you.

How you didn’t want him to protect you. Because why would you? He only fucked you once because the circumstances aligned for it, and now he’s told you you should pretend nothing happened.

He barely minds the animosity then. He thinks he deserves it. So when Emily pulls on his arm, telling him she’s been waiting for him, and then adding for just him to hear that Eunwoo, one of his close friends, is throwing up in the hallway next to the bathroom, Jungkook finds himself following her.

Even though all his instincts tell him to stay with you.

Much later that night, after Jungkook has gotten drunk alone back at the apartment after dropping Eunwoo off at his, Jungkook stares at the text he sent you.

It sits unanswered, and Jungkook thinks, maybe he is the problem after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

hihihi i am actually very drunk but i hope you guys liked it!! please let me know what you think about the drabble and about our baby simp jungkook

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[graybby]

PR nightmare

Lando Norris x Russell!reader

The F1 drivers twitch streamer sister series !

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 here 2285 words

sorry for the wait ! hopefully it's worth it <3

This isn’t good.

Pacing back and forth around her hotel room wasn’t how Y/N planned to start her morning but the constant dinging of her phone had rudely awoken her from her slumber at 5AM. She felt reluctant to check it at first, anxiety swirling through her brain as she racked it for a reason why this was happening, nothing preparing her for what she was about to see. Hundreds of tweets and pictures of her and Lando from the grand prix the day prior - luckily none had captured the dispute between him and her brother, which came as a momentary relief to the drama that presented itself in front of her. The focus was only on the two individuals as they had been papped in the time it took him to find her in that heat stroked state and walk away from the bathrooms, which led to a multitude of both Lando’s and her own fans to start conspiring. Those who watched Y/N and had knowledge of her most recent stream - in which Lando had made his presence known - were already losing their minds, believing that this wasn’t just a coincidence and that she had specifically attended the race as his guest, some of these comments being a lot meaner than others - accusing the smaller streamer of being an ‘attention whore’ and ‘just using him for likes and followers’ however there were a few that sounded excited at the possibility of a blossoming romance between the two. Y/N laughed to herself that people were making assumptions about the two, trying to block out how much some of the hate comments stabbed into her mind but subconsciously agreeing with those that were finding it stupid that others believed Lando would even go for her let alone be dating her. 

She opened her chat with Lando to try and warn him about the social media mess but halted when she realised she was still left on read from the night before, pushing aside the feeling it gave her she began typing. 

I think we’ve got a situation..

The brown haired boy rolled over his plush hotel bed and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Tired from the race and night he had which left him to return back to his designated hotel room in the early hours of the morning. He didn’t remember too much, only that he had been in a sour mood about something and decided to dull the internal noise with a shit ton of alcohol and crowds of people. His phone began blaring and Lando shot up to accept the call before he registered who it even was. 

“What do you think you’re playing at Lando?” a voice bellowed down the line. “Zak please it’s too early to be screamed at, what did I do now?” rubbing his temples, a hangover beginning to set in. 

“we said no more girl trouble Lando. It’s bad for our publicity right now, we really need a clean slate at the moment to boost our sponsorships. With all your recent antics the tabloids are making you out to be a party obsessed playboy and the current sponsors don’t like it”

“But I haven’t even been spotted with anyone recently it’s a joke- you can’t just expect me to stay put in my room like a good little dog all the time man-” “Hey hey stop, I know how shitty it is but yesterday you got spotted just talking to some youtube or influencer girl and the internet won’t shut up about it, you’ve been trending on twitter for hours and not for much of a good reason”. 

“What the fuck Zak- that’s such bullshit, shes just a friend and we only just met properly the moment it was photographed. It’s not fair”. 

“I know it is, look i’m really sorry Lando but we just need you to keep a low profile for a while- not forever, just until this ‘persona’ everyone is making you out to be is not tabloid front pages”. 

“Fine Zak I get it, I'll try to be a ‘good little boy’ just for you” sarcasm dripping off his tongue as he spoke.

“Whatever you say Lando, just don’t blow this. I’ll talk to you later”

“Yeah bye Zak”

What a fucking headache 

----------------------------------------------------

“Y/N are you alright?” George asked approaching his sister carefully, taking in her disgruntled appearance. He had found her sat on the edge of the hotel sofa - head in hands which tightly wrapped around her hair in frustration. 

“No” she groaned, slightly peeking out between her hands to meet her brother's worried expression. 

“I hate twitter” she cried out as George cradled her in his arms. “It's so stupid George, everyone’s going crazy at these images of me and Lando someone took of us talking yesterday. Now everyone’s jumping to conclusions and making up rumours I- WE JUST MET”, “I’m sorry- I don’t know why this is getting to me so much… I think deep down I’m just scared that someone’s gonna find out that we’re related”.

“Well just remember it’s not the end of the world if they do” George remarks, trying to hide the hurt he feels at the idea of his sister being this adamant on hiding their relation. 

“Yeah for you it’s not but the whole life I’ve been trying to build all by myself will just be over, I’ll just be ‘George Russell’s sister’ and who I actually am will come second”. 

“I’m sorry that's how I’ve made you feel” George pulls away from his baby sister in haste, barely looking at her as he rushes to leave the room clearly harbouring offence at her words, which she realises quickly after - attempting to follow him. 

“No George, sorry I didn’t mean it like that- wait!” the door slams shut in front of her before she can continue. 

Crumpling back on the sofa her tears continue to free fall, this time at a quicker pace as her heart tugs against her chest - guilt tearing through her. 

She reaches for her phone just to see that once again Lando planned on leaving her on read. Anger bubbling over the heartache she already felt towards her brother made her snap, hurling her phone against the wall on the other side of the room in a heartbeat as her vision clouds over, sobs racking her frame. 

----------------------------------------------

Clambering out of his room, Lando made his way down the hotel hallways, his throbbing head demanding a remedy which he decided would be a late breakfast. Passing along each door, stopping when he hears a loud bang against the wall he was outside of, followed by loud sobbing coming from a voice he swore he knew. Without even realising his hand was already knocking on the door. 

A moment passed before it cracked open revealing a distraught looking Y/N, her tired eyes made redder by the stream pouring from them. He was taken back by the sight, the shock not lasting long though as she attempted to slam the door in his face. Clearly underestimating the reaction time of an F1 driver as he swiftly wedges his foot between the door, stopping her from closing it as he barges past into her room. 

“I don’t want to talk to you Lando- why are you even here? You clearly don’t want to talk to me so just go..” 

“Wha- what gave you that impression?”

Y/N turns to look at him - straight faced, a scoff passing her lips. 

“You’re joking right?! You ignore every message I’ve sent you and you ask me why I think you don’t want to talk to me??” 

He stiffens as he realises his mistake this morning, too caught up in his own problems that he glossed over hers, he knew that her message would be about the pictures after his call from Zak but he didn’t know what to say to her - the way that Zak spoke to him earlier made Lando feel the need to distance himself from Y/N and the whole situation, something he thought he could manage until he heard her gut wrenching sobs and all his rational thoughts went out the window. 

His face softened as he reached out to her. “Y/N look I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t mean to upset you- I’ve just been caught up in a PR nightmare this morning and everything’s slipped my mind” she sniffles, eyes meeting his “it’s my fault isn’t it, the PR nightmare? Its cause you spoke to me” Lando notices her eyes welling up again as she spoke, he steps forward, his hand wrapping around her smaller one giving it a gentle squeeze - his other hand rising to cup her cheek (too close to the way the stood just the day before when everything began to go wrong). 

“Y/N no it's not your fault. This happens- way too often for my liking but no way is it because of you. It's the fault of nosy journalists and gossip pages that want to tear apart every aspect of my life and I'm sorry you got caught up in it. I can imagine some of the things you’ve seen people say about you today and I want you to ignore it for me okay- it’s just jealous, horrible people with nothing better to do okay? Don’t believe a word of it”. Lando stared at her, still holding her hand so gently as if he applied the slightest pressure that she might break. She nodded her head softly in response to what he said, a small smile breaking through the pained expression she wore since he walked in. He beamed at the change in mood, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug. He had felt such guilt after ignoring her last night - he was so wound up by her brothers outburst towards him and being so close to his first win that he had given her the cold shoulder, choosing to drown his sorrows in alcohol and loud music instead of responding to her attempts at checking in on him.

Y/N melted into the hug, she hated the way that Lando made her feel so warm in the short time she had spent with him, especially after how cold he had made her feel only the night before, she felt she owed him in a way to hear him out, knowing how messy it can be living in the public eye. She was so glad she did as she stood there basking in the warmth his touch gave her - she felt embarrassed that he had this big of an effect on her, brushing it off and blaming it on how emotional she’s been all day making her overly thankful for his comfort. 

“Feeling better love?” he pulled back from the hug, hands still holding either side of her shoulders - that cheeky smile he always wore gracing his face as he gazed into her eyes. She giggled lightly at the sight before it became a full fledged laugh as he giggled back, smile stretching wider. They stayed like that for a moment just laughing as they held each other. Once they both quieted they sat down together on the sofa just enjoying each other's company. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday by the way, I don’t like arguing with people, George just set me off I guess- but it didn’t give me a right to take it out on you, thank you for checking up on me Y/N” sincerity oozing from every word that passed his lips. 

“Don’t worry about it Lando, but hey guess we’re both in George's bad books right now” she spoke solemnly, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Lando took her hands into his own as he noticed her anxiety bubbling. 

“What happened?” he was honestly quite shocked at her words not believing that her and George could have a full  blown fight. 

“I hurt his feelings pretty bad- I was going on about how scared I was that someone might do too much digging now that the attentions on me and find out that we’re related, I guess it sounded like I resented being his sister and he stormed off slamming the door on me before I could properly apologise, he just can’t understand that I’m scared it will just make all my hard work amount to being an ‘F1 drivers sister’ and not be recognised for my own achievements” she sighed, squeezing his hand softly as she spoke.

“I understand Y/N and I think he will with time, I personally hope that he’ll get over us talking- especially after yesterday, he’s never been that pissed at me before” he chuckled lowly, thumb rubbing the back of her hand. 

“He’ll get over it, he just doesn’t know how to react to me talking to anyone of the other gender without freaking out” she rolled her eyes as she recalled every time George had interrupted a conversation of hers, pulling her away from whatever guy she speaking to at the time before giving her a classic older brother lecture. 

“Good to know- guess I’ll have to start sneaking around and seeing you in private ey?” winking at her jokingly but catching the way her face flushed in response. Cute 

“It’s honestly not a bad idea though, that way we avoid any more media upset, you don’t have to worry about your identity and I don’t have to face the rath of your brother for simply just talking to you” Lando laughs nudging her shoulder as she giggled at his words. 

“I like the sound of that Lando”

“So do I” 

---------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading <3

taglist : @bicchaan @lauralarsen @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @ssararuffoni @cherry-piee @eviethetheatrefreak @2pagenumb

[amongemeraldclouds]

bewitched

Three moments you fell for your sworn enemy and that time Mattheo’s feelings for you finally caught up to him.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader

Warning: fluff, no use of y/n, short scene ft. anxiety (includes comfort)

✿ Masterlist | 1.4k words

Mattheo Riddle felt he was going to d!e. He strode into the Slytherin Common Room spotting Theo reading a book while Enzo was napping on the couch across from him. Mattheo grabbed Theo and shook his shoulders.

“I’m about to d!e!” Mattheo declared, rousing a dazed Enzo with crumpled hair and bleary eyes. Theo’s book fell on his lap. He narrowed his eyes and wondered what sort of trouble Mattheo was about to rope him into this time.

“What happened?” Theo asked.

“I feel lightheaded. My chest feels heavy and my stomach keeps doing flips,” Mattheo tried to explain.

“Sounds like indigestion. Did you forget to rehydrate again after getting drunk? How many times—”

“No, it’s her,” he accused, pointing at you as you huddled with your friends in the opposite corner of the room. You were laughing and chatting away, oblivious to the plight of the curly haired boy. “She did something to me,” he clutched at his heart with his free hand.

Theo just raised an eyebrow and so Mattheo continued, “it started with that spin the bottle game when I kissed her. It’s like something in me awakened.”

“What? Your dick?” Theo deadpanned.

Mattheo slapped Theo’s shoulder then reconsidered. “Well yes, but since then, I can’t stop thinking about her. Even when I’m asleep, I see her in my dreams. I keep looking for her in class and I want to be around her all the time.”

Enzo just sighed at his friends’ foolishness, “have you ever considered you’re in love?”

Mattheo and Theo turned to Enzo and paused for a second, letting the words sink in. When it finally did, they both burst out laughing.

“Good one, mate!” Theo called out. At the same time Mattheo shook his head. “That can’t be, even if I did fall in love, it certainly would not be with my enemy.”

Enzo threw one of the extra pillows at them. “You idiots have no idea what love is even if it hit you on the face.” He huffed and turned around, eager to resume his nap.

“You’re no help,” Mattheo waved off both his friends as he noticed your group stood up and was starting to disperse in different directions.

He called after you as he jogged. “You,” he accused, when he reached you,“what spell did you cast on me?”

You narrowed your eyes. Sure, you and Mattheo had been clashing heads since your first year together when the spitball he shot in your direction went straight through your open mouth as you laughed with your friends, choking you.

You had, of course, not taken lightly this murder attempt even as your friend slapped your back hard enough to dislodge the paper. Instead of apologizing, he had the gall to joke about how if it’s your time to pass away then who was he to stop nature from taking its course. 

Having grown up with older brothers, you knew very well that you had to fight back to avoid being walked all over. So war was declared against the curly haired boy with brown eyes and the rest was history: the constant bickering, name calling, one upping each others’ mischief. 

“Don’t try to deny it,” Mattheo continued. “That kiss. You did something to me. My chest and stomach have not felt the same,” he gestured to himself, trying to describe the strange sensation.

“Are you sure you’re not just constipated?” You asked, scrunching your nose in disgust.

A bright smile slowly crept its way across your face as realization set in. Mattheo mistook it for an evil grin. In reality, it was because you realized you were not alone. You too had felt your heart racing and butterflies fluttering in your stomach when you kissed.

You had no idea what ghost of insanity possessed you to have these feelings for your enemy, but there it was. Perhaps it had to do with three separate incidents when you felt something for him.

One peace treaty

The first incident was the time you banded together. When faced with a greater, common enemy, it was only natural to call a temporary truce to take down your Defense Against The Dark Arts professor who thrived on power trips and making students cry. With your other classmates, you concocted together a scheme so diabolical that got your professor fired from school. When you savoured your victory, you realized you worked well together with Mattheo. Even more so, you actually had fun together. You were seriously considering making the truce permanent when water balloons exploded on you the next morning, washing away any trace of goodwill the teamwork had brought on.

Two strangers stuck

You turned it over your head. The second incident happened when Mattheo got the two of you got stuck in the broom closet. He only ever meant to surprise you when you walked by so he hid in the closet. Instead, things happened quickly. When he opened the closet door, you jumped in to tell him off at the same time his wand fired the spell he had prepared as the door shut, jamming the lock. You tried the doors and called out, but classes had already begun. No one would be around for a while. What worried you was when you noticed you had struggled alone. Mattheo, for his part, hugged his legs close to his chest and whispered reassurances to himself. You had never seen him more vulnerable. You noticed his shoulders shaking as he recounted, no doubt, a traumatic memory from his childhood. Sighing, you rolled your eyes and slid in behind him, wrapping both arms around him. His shoulders initially tensed until you joined his whispers of reassurance, telling him “it’s going to be okay” and “you’re safe here”. He relaxed into you and your bodies melted together. You had never seen him like this before and you wanted to protect him as if your arms could shield him from his bad memories. Until then, Mattheo didn’t know you could be sweet and kind. It was odd getting to see a new side to each other after all these years. You didn’t know how long you held him until you heard the door being opened by one of Mattheo’s friends and you quickly sprung apart. “Please don’t tell anyone,” Mattheo whispered as the door finally swung open. “About what?” You simply shrugged and walked away.

Three spoonfuls of cocoa

The third incident happened one late evening when you woke from a nightmare and couldn’t sleep again so you snuck off into the kitchen for a mug of hot cocoa. Mattheo followed you, a night owl himself, wondering what you were up to. When he realized you were simply making a drink, he strolled in and invited himself. He asked what was keeping you up. Your mind foggy with sleep and a nightmare, you found yourself sharing your struggles with potions class. You kept mixing up ingredients no matter how hard you studied and it followed you straight to your nightmares where potion vials were taunting you. In response, Mattheo managed to make you laugh with his easy charm. He liked the sound of your laugh and wanted to hear more. The longer you spent together, the lighter and livelier you felt. It was sweeter than the three spoonfuls of cocoa you made for the two of you.  You hesitated going back to your dorm, but the sun was starting to rise. “About this…” you began after you had put away the mugs. “Just a dream,” Mattheo winked as he placed his hand in his pockets and walked off.

Present

“Of course I’m not constipated!” Mattheo glared, cheeks turning pink in anger and embarrassment. 

You softened at his troubled expression. “For the record, I did not do anything. But when you figure it out, come talk to me,” you said and walked away. Of course you loved him. For you, the kiss confirmed everything. But Mattheo needed to figure it out on his own, and despite his thickheadedness, you just knew he would.

After watching you leave, Mattheo retreated to his friends. The feelings still burned into him and having found no other alternative, he reconsidered an idea.

Rousing Enzo again and then pushing him off the couch when he ignored Mattheo, he sat on the floor beside him.

“What in Salazar’s name?” Enzo rubbed the back of his head that hit the floor, soothing the ache and yawned. It sure was an effective way to wake someone.

“Okay,” Mattheo sighed, “don’t laugh at me—” he began.

He glared at Theo who had raised his eyebrow. Mattheo just snarled and Theo snorted, returning to his book.

Placing his attention back to Enzo, he continued with a grimace, “this love thing, tell me all about it.”

✿ Masterlist | 1.4k words

A/N: Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo being a chaotic trio is my absolute fave.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! Can you please write something abt Eddie x Cheerleader! Reader? Like they met at detention and Eddie was surprised bc “Hawkins High Princess” was at detention, maybe they started to sneak out and went to the bench at the woods, and after some time, they fell in love?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Hawkins princess

Eddie knew the route to detention like the back of his hand. It was a routine he did almost daily. Walking down the hallway to the small classroom filled with the other delinquents.

He took the chair in the back corner, as always, and propped his dirty sneakers on the table. He crossed his arms and slanted his head down, preparing for an afternoon nap.

He looked up when people gasped as the doors opened. He was shocked to see Y/N shuffling inside.

She sat near the front, and Eddie was already picking up his stuff. He slammed his body right next to her spot, a dazzling smirk on his face.

She eyed him but didn't say the first word.

"What the hell did the Hawkins princess do to land in here?" He asked, his voice was loud. She sat in her cheerleading uniform, growing uncomfortable from the eyes on her.

"Punched Jason in the jaw," she said as she rolled her eyes. She'd do it again with no regrets.

Eddie's smirk grew as he looked impressed

"Well damn, I think you deserve an award for that." Eddie joked

"Yeah well, no one else thought so." She shrugged. She was a bit annoyed she got called into dentition for it. He practically asked for it.

"Eddie Munson right?" She asked, turning her body to face him. A look in her eyes.

"The one and only" he smiled

"You know how to get out of here?" She whispered, leaning closer

"Oh baby, I do." He said, grabbing her hand and racing out the doors.

She laughed as they ran to his van, she could hear teachers yelling but she loved that Eddie kept going.

He peeled off on two tires as she held on to the door. She didn't ask where they were going to go, she weirdly trusted him.

And that's where their adventure began.

~~~

She didn't get a dentition after that, but that didn't mean she stopped seeing him. She'd skip out of practice and knock on the door, once he saw her he was taking off. Then they'd run and run.

Their destination changed how they felt. Sometimes they cruised on the roads until they found a beach, or they went down the street for burgers and fries. Sometimes they went to Eddie's or she snuck him in her bedroom.

She loved how fun he was and how spontaneous he could be.

"Wanna go smoke?" He asked, they reached his van but he didn't open the doors.

"I don't smoke but I'll sit with you." She offered. She would sit and do nothing with him, his presence was enough to entertain her.

"Sweet. I got a place" he winked and took her hand again.

She felt her heart racing as they walked through the woods, his hand tight as it held hers.

She never thought she'd find herself crushing on Eddie, but boy was she fucked. It was weeks of sneaking out to be alone with him, and she was captivated by his persona. He was just as crazy, loud, and obnoxious as he was in school, and she found herself loving it.

"Here she is!" He said, letting go of her hand to proudly show off the tiny wooden bunch. "My second favorite girl," he said as he knocked on the wood and took a seat.

"Who's number one?" Y/N asked as she sat on the bench across from him, secretly hoping he'd grab her and place her right next to him.

"You," he said with another wink, making her body heat up as she tried to play it off

He got busy working on his joint as she watched. She squirmed at the way his fingers perfectly rolled the paper. And she held back a moan as his tongue swiped across the paper to seal it. She never knew how attractive Eddie could be.

He lit the end and the smoke filled the air. She silently watched as he puffed on the joint, the way his lips wrapped around the end. The way he inhaled and his neck stretched.

The smell filled her nose and knocked her into reality.

"Wanna try?" He asked

"No, thanks. Chrissy would kill me." Y/N laughed

"Didn't you punch her boyfriend then skip out on multiple practices?" Eddie laughed

"Eh all worth it." She laughed with him.

Eddie held the joint with his mouth as he reached for her hand. "Healed nice." He said, muffled by the joint but she knew what he said.

She felt her face blush as he softly traced her skin.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked

He nodded and returned his hand to smoke the joint the correct way.

"Wanna go to my place? My parents are out for the weekend." She asked, and she asked in a way that Eddie knew what she meant.

He coughed the smoke out of his lungs. He tried to keep his cool but inside his brain was cheering and patting himself on the back.

"Oh hell yes"

That night they went further than ever before. They kissed, made out, and had sex. All weekend long. They barely left the sheets, just soaking in each other from sunrise to sunset.

That weekend she realized she was falling for him.

~~~

"I can't keep covering your ass for the coach. She's pissed you ditched out on weekend practice." Chrissy said, sitting next to Y/N as the cafeteria filled.

"It's the weekend. I'm not spending it with her." Y/N scoffed

"Well, I have an idea who you spent it with" Chrissy smirked, flicking the dark spot on Y/N's neck.

"Ow!" Y/N flinched

"Spill," Chrissy said, somehow getting closer to Y/N.

Y/N sighed and looked over at Eddie, Chrissy followed her eyes and gasped. Causing the table to look at her.

"What?" Jason asked, his black eye now returning to a normal color.

"Nothing. Mind your business." Y/N snapped. Once the table went back to their conversations, Chrissy silently squealed.

"Bad boy of Hawkins? Oh I know he's dirty." Chrissy teased, she looked back at Eddie and then back to her.

"Oh you are gross" Y/N laughed as she shoved Chrissy's shoulder.

"Oh come on! Give me some details. I tell you mine!" Chrissy begged

"Yeah and it makes me sick," Y/N said with a mocking smile. But she knew she'd give in.

"It is dirty but that's all I'm gonna say!" Y/N laughed, Chrissy fanned herself as she acted out.

"Next sleepover you are telling me everything!"

"One problem though," Y/N sighed, "I really like him"

"So? Ask him out" Chrissy shrugged, like it was the easiest thing to do.

"Ask who out?" Jason but in

Y/N rolled her eyes and kept her attention on Chrissy

"Trust me, I've thought about it. But what if he isn't interested? He doesn't look like the relationship type." She sighed and her eyes trailed over to Eddie once more. He laughed with Dustin, shaking the boy's body.

"You wanna date the freak?" Jason scoffed

"He's not a freak." She said annoyed. Already tired of giving him her time. "But yes, I wanna ask Eddie out."

"That's social suicide and might lead to actual suicide," Jason argued

"Jason shut it." Chrissy snapped

"You know what Jason? I should have blackened your other eye. Save you from having to watch this." Y/N snapped. She grabbed her backpack and walked straight over to Eddie's table.

"incoming!" Mike said as Y/N marched over to their table.

Eddie looked at Mike and followed his eyes. Eddie straightened in his chair and quickly fluffed his hair.

"You look good, don't worry," Dustin whispered as he patted Eddie's shoulder.

"Y/N?" Eddie asked once she made it over. He looked over her shoulder and saw her table staring at him

"Stand up," she demanded and he quickly obeyed

He stood up, very confused about what was happening

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her lips on his. She didn't keep it little, she shoved her tongue down his throat and tangled her hands in his hair.

He felt his breath being taken away but made sure to kiss her back. His hands slipped down to her ass as he proudly groped her in the middle of the cafeteria.

The hellfire table stared at them with shock and amusement

Chrissy watched proudly

And the rest of the table watched with disgust

They pulled away, and Y/N smiled at Eddie's dazed face.

"Wanna go out, Munson? Try a real date?" Her arms were still hooked around his neck as she smiled

"Fuck yes" he breathed out as he caught his breath back

"Pick me up 7" she winked as she walked back to her table

Eddie blinked a thousand times, watching her walk away with her hips swaying.

"Dude! Nice!" Gareth cheered as he slammed his hands on Eddie's shoulders.

Did that really just happen?

Tags!

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[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + -- mature short content !

Content Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, stalking, manipulation, and violent fantasies. It delves into the unhealthy and dangerous mindset of a stalker obsessed with you. Reader discretion is advised.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

INCLUDES: Stalking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, cunnilingus, fingering, fem reader, choking, mentions of cheating, p in v sex in public, murder, death, he's not a good person, dom yandere?, degradation?, he can be a bit of a gaslighter, gore, and more.

*This is the third fic to this little mini series. Check out the first part, and the second part for a better understanding! He is referred to as "your stalker." The italicized portion is his inner thoughts! This fic is inspired by the show You, and this is purely fictional writing!*

SYNOPSIS: Your stalker's obsession intensifies as he becomes involved with another woman named Daniella Foster, who he views as inferior to you. Despite his disdain for your best friend, he engages in a flirtatious and sexual relationship with her, all the while fantasizing about you.

What's more dangerous than a sick, psychotic, and perverted man?

I ran out of your blood today.

Just four hours ago, I was completely fine. The vial of your period blood was nearly empty, but I was able to stick my finger inside to collect the last of your crimson essence. I sucked a particularly big blood clot off my finger, and I was able to start my day with a huge smile.

Four hours ago, I could claim that I was a normal and functioning man, someone you wouldn’t blink an eye at, and that was all thanks to you.

Four hours ago, I was able to brush my teeth, take a shower, and clean myself up for the day. I had an extra pep in my step, and I felt like I could take on the world with a positive outlook.

Don’t you see how much life you give me? Your blood alone has made me feel like I was on top of the world, like I could float up into space with just your plasma to help me survive.

But now, it was gone.

Your stalker stared blankly at the window as his body was jostled side to side, his hands tightly gripping the handle of his tote bag that rested on his lap. He tried to ignore the obnoxiously sick person near him, who didn’t even bother to cover their coughs. He closed his eyes to avoid staring into the eyes of another person across from him. He was sandwiched between two burly people: one shouted loudly into their phone, clearly having zero spatial awareness, while the other snoozed. The woman's head drooped as she nodded off, and her greasy hair brushed against his cheek.

She had a distinct smell of sweat and wet socks. Your stalker apologized to the man next to him as he slightly leaned his body away from the woman. He was stuck in this position unless someone took pity on him and spoke up.

His car was in the shop. The tire had unexpectedly given out, causing him to swerve into oncoming traffic. The car was old anyway, a gift from his parents when he first got his license in high school. That must have been, what, ten years ago? He didn’t like to think about his age; nothing good ever came from it anyway.

Your stalker rummaged through his bag, his hand searching for the familiar plastic tube he used to steal your period blood. His fingers brushed against a particularly sharp blade he kept for “safety” reasons before they wrapped around the vial. He had really tried to savor it. He would carefully open his mouth and tilt the vial just enough for a single drop of blood to settle onto his tongue. Sometimes he would pour a bit into his coffee, or he would put it into his food. Either way, it made him feel closer to you. It was a comforting notion to think about, that he was the only man and human who had access to you in such an intimate way.

Your stalker sighed as he put the empty tube back into his breast pocket for safe keeping.

He didn’t like taking public transportation. New York was known for having odd things happening on the trains, buses, and subways. He was pretty sure that last week someone had set a rat on fire, a poor woman got robbed in broad daylight, and a group of teens were filming their dumb YouTube prank videos on the elderly.

Your stalker felt a flare of irritation as the woman leaned on his shoulder again. He gently nudged her off and ignored the way she woke up all startled. He glanced down at his phone, counting the number of stops, and saw he had twelve more before he could get off.

He was going to Manhattan for a job. An absolute douchebag had hired him, and his name was Myron Vykolv. He was the type to spend his money on trips and a bedazzled car rather than giving back to charity. Vykolv was an artist's worst nightmare: fickle, a headache to deal with; but surprisingly, he had good taste in art. He had to; he hired your stalker, after all.

He pulled out his phone to scroll on social media, his eyes scanning the copious amount of braindead content, and he paused when he saw a familiar face. He pressed the buttons on the side of his phone, his screen flashing, and the screenshot he took was saved in his photo album. Your stalker zoomed in, and his eyes widened as he saw the perfectly harmonious facial features. The baby tee top had a cute graphic splayed on the chest area, hair slicked and pulled back into a bun, and gold hoops dangling from those nicely formed ears.

It was you.

He glanced down at the caption: "a coffee date with my favorite bff." Posted exactly five minutes ago. It wasn't your account, but it was the closest thing he had to you. Your stalker decided to follow your coffee-manic and bikini-loving friend, and every post and picture she had, you were in it too.

She made it almost easy to stalk. Jesus, what if a deranged man had decided to show up to her place in the Beverly Hills area on the street of— seriously? Did she really just post her full address online?

Daniella Foster. The epitome of a fun and ditzy socialite who spent way too much time at parties and clubs. A trust fund baby if there ever was one, with her daddy being a big shot in the entertainment industry. Despite all that privilege, she never quite made it big herself.

Your stalker snorted as he saw the array of failed projects she had been in. Modeling? Wasn't in the cards for her. Acting? Horrible. A piece of cardboard would've had more personality than her. Originally from Tampa, Florida, then she moved to California, where she had her comically large house, and then… she decided to bless us by coming to New York. Lucky us, right y/n?

Your stalker looked up from his phone and realized the train had come to his stop. He got up from his seat and quickly made his way out. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand and looked down: Daniella requested to follow you. That was fast.

He clicked accept.

She's a shameless flirt, your stalker soon found out, and he’s not the least bit surprised. Daniella slid into his DMs with a picture of her provocatively sucking a lollipop, and her first words to him were: “What do you look like?”

Gee, take a gander, Daniella. My profile picture is a high-definition shot of my handsome and sexy fucking face. But sure, ask me about my looks as if you were actually interested. Your stalker rolled his eyes. He didn’t even want to respond to that message, but he had no other way of seeing you again. You would probably run at the sight of him, and that would be the most sane and correct thing you could do.

So, what does a man say when he’s mediocre, average, and you’re clearly out of his league? “I look like the man of your dreams, sweetheart.”

Your stalker had spent hours sexting and courting this woman who had flooded his inbox. Even when he was painting for a client, he managed to multitask and send a dick pic. He sent her whatever she wanted to keep her hooked, and just by her messages alone, this must have been the only time a man actually matched her level of craziness and horniness.

Days turned into weeks and then soon into months. The moment he woke up, he would see that she had sent him hundreds of messages in one night—she must've been drunk again.

He spent hours reading each message, and he hearted the ones that he felt were the most important. It was actually coming to an end, thank God, but to his surprise, she asked him out on a date.

"So, what do you do? Who are you?" The girl in front of him asked.

He shouldn't have said yes because now he was sitting in a restaurant that he could barely afford or get a reservation to, and he had to be with this woman who wasn't you. She was dressed beautifully - he'd give her that. He liked the dark colors of her red dress, the way he could drink in the curves of her hips and chest, and how it gave him a clear view of her body.

Now, he wondered what you would have worn if you were on a date with him. Would you have put in this much effort and shown this much skin? Would you have laughed at all of his jokes to boost his damn ego, or knocked him down a peg? Would you have ordered something light so you could have sex afterward, or would you have eaten something hearty and called it a day?

He pretended to think for a while, all before he gently touched her hand, and his fingers caressed her soft skin. "Who am I?" He teased, his voice slightly deepened as he gave her a playful once-over. "I'm hurt. After all these months, you still don't know who I am?"

"Why don't you refresh my memory?" She tilted her head.

Your stalker sighed and he looked around briefly. This place was intimate, for high rollers only, and he could just imagine how much of his money was going to go down the drain. The tiny candle on the table, the white clean cloth, and the vase with a single rose was still too romantic for his taste. His thumb traced circles on her hand, and the other grabbed for his steak knife.

“I'm an up-and-coming artist,” He replied with a bit of a shrug.

“An up-and-coming artist, huh?” She echoed, her fingers now interlocked with his. “Do you come often?”

Lord, please have some mercy and shoot me. Do I come often? Wouldn’t you like to know, you slut. Is this the type of person you really want to spend your time with, y/n? Daniella is not you, and she could never be you. She parades herself around for anyone and everyone to ogle at—she is the epitome of what’s wrong with the dating scene. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend. No wonder she’s desperate enough to entertain me—of all people.

I know the type of people you like, Daniella, and it’s not me.

“You know what you’re doing when you ask me that.” he brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it. “I can tell you can make a man come often.“

Daniella giggled and her chest puffed out. She leaned closer to him, and he can practically drown in her scent of vanilla and cake. “I have an art piece that I think you'll appreciate. It's back at my place… wanna see it?”

Fuhhhhhck no. Your stalker slipped the knife into his pocket.

Your stalker smirked and he leaned in closer as well. He could see the makeup on her face, the gloss on her lips, and he could see a glimpse of her ample breasts. “I don’t know… is it one of a kind?”

Underneath the table, her leg started to caress his, and her foot slowly found its way to his crotch. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and he held onto her hand tighter. As much as he hated this, he would have been lying if he had said that the attention wasn’t nice. He felt the pressure around his groin tighten as she pressed her foot onto it, and she gently rubbed it up and down while maintaining eye contact.

“It’s an original piece…something that can’t be replicated. I’m sure you’ll love it.” Daniella said coyly, and she bit down on her plush lips.

She knew when to strike when the iron was hot. A taxi was called, and she made out with him in it. Her body was pressed up against his, and she felt his hand grip on her ass. His hand then slid up her thigh, his fingers ripped her black sheer stockings and two of them found their way to her entrance. He bit down on her bottom lip and his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She's a fun girl. She knew exactly how to inflate a man's ego and pride. He heard her sweet, light moans, and her hips started to grind onto his hand. His thumb played with her clit, and they only pulled away when the cab arrived at her house. He grabbed her hand and tossed a couple of bills at the driver. He slammed the door shut, and before she could unlock the door to her house, he pressed her against his body.

"W-We're in public...!" Daniella's face was flushed and she tried to close her legs, but your stalker was quick to pull them back apart.

He narrowed his eyes and tugged down her panties. "So? Don't tell me you have morals all of a sudden." he snorted.

He wished that she would just shut up. She opened her mouth to rebuttal but he wrapped one hand around her throat to keep her still and quiet, and he shimmied off his pants just enough for his cock to be out. "I didn't come here for you to talk all the damn time. Shut it, before I put that mouth of yours to good use."

Your stalker lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around him. His dick then entered inside her, and he groaned at how wet and ready she felt. It's been awhile since he felt actual warmth, and her walls started to clench around him. His breath is ragged as he fucked her. His eyes were closed and he couldn't help but bite down onto her shoulder. Daniella cried out, and her body was tense as his teeth broke into her skin.

"God... you needed this, didn't you?" He purred as he licked up the puncture wound. Your stalker then looked down to watch his cock disappear into her. "You need someone to fuck your brains out." He sharply thrust into her again, and his hands dug into the plush of her ass to help with the momentum.

Your stalker dragged his tongue across her bleeding shoulder, then pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. With one hand still gripping her body, he used the other to shove his fingers down her throat, silencing her whimpers."You're the prettiest whore I have ever seen. Isn't that right, y/n?"

Your stalker truly believed he was being intimate with you. Daniella, who? All he knew was you. All he ever wanted was to feel you, to taste you, and to be able to hear you mewl around his cock. He wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, to paint your skin with butterfly kisses, and for him to finally come inside you again and again. It actually pissed him off to no end that he had to be stuck here with her.

When he felt himself getting closer to the edge, he unceremoniously pulled out of her, and his white stream of cum dripped down onto the ground. He sighed as his dick softened, and he gently helped her stand on her own legs again. His hand dipped underneath her body, his fingers playing with her wet folds, and he spread them apart to furiously rub at her clit. Daniella gripped onto his arm to keep him firmly there until she felt her leg shake.

Your stalker watched with a bit of fascination as what seemed like an endless amount of juices squirted out of her. He got onto his knees and helped her to sit onto his face. After he cleaned her all up, your stalker suddenly remembered something and his hand patted down his pockets.

"Hey... I think I'm missing my phone." He started his little lie. "Can I borrow yours? I forgot that I had an important call--"

"Bag." She just said and pointed to the one that was tossed to the side.

He muttered a "thanks" before he went over and rummaged through her purse. "What do you think about doing this again?" he kept an eye on her as his hand aimlessly tried to look for her phone. "I had fun tonight, and I'd like to see you one more time."

He could feel the various items in her bag. A packet of cigarettes, two lip products, house keys, a whole perfume bottle, but fuck where was her phone?

He watched as Daniella rolled down her scrunched up dress. The woman then raised her brow and she crossed her arms. "I'm pretty sure you said another woman's name."

"I didn't." He said rather quickly. "You drank a lot of wine--it was almost like you were trying to bankrupt me." He joked, and his hand firmly gripped onto what felt like a smooth case. He pulled it out of her bag and there it was. "What's your password?"

"Trying to change the subject, are we?"

"I'm pretty sure your phone is the subject, unlock it pretty please?"

Daniella pulled back her hair and she stared at him expectantly.

"I said give me your password, not a blowjob." Your stalker frowned.

She gave him an exasperated look. "It's my face dumbass." she then snatched her phone back from him.

"You don't use your thumb? What kind of update is that?"

"God, you're so poor." He heard her mutter.

That was so unwarranted, and sort of hurt.

Though it made him feel a lot better when he finally decided to slit her throat. Now that she was distracted, he discreetly pulled out the steak knife from his pocket before he dropped her bag and roughly yanked her back to him. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams as he dragged the serrated blade across her neck. The knife sawed through flesh, muscle, and sinew, blood spurting and gushing with each desperate pulse of her heart. It took him a while to sever her head completely, his arm burning with exhaustion as he hacked away, the blade catching on bone and gristle, her life draining away in a torrent of crimson.

Your stalker wiped his bloodied hand on her dress, he grabbed the phone off the ground, and he groaned when he saw that the screen was cracked. He tried his best to work the damn thing, his finger poking at the messaging app multiple times before it decided to open. Daniella had a plentiful amount of unsaved numbers but they had weird emojis next to them. One number was from a different country and had the eggplant emoticon.

Then he found the only saved number: y/n.

You're apparently a good girl and shared your location with your best friend. How adorable, you even share every given moment with her too. You even talked about how you were thinking about going back to your serial cheater of an ex.

Your stalker gasped, his head reeling back in shock. You were about to go back to your ex? Your ex, of all people? You couldn't have, what—moved on like a normal person? You couldn't have gone out and fucked around with someone new? Someone like him? It's like you purposely make the wrong choices just to be saved. Before he could be your little personal super hero... his eyes slowly made its way back to the body on the ground, and then to the keys that were in her bag.

Have you ever heard of cuteness aggression? The rush of impulsive behavior that you get after seeing a cute and defenseless puppy? I get that when I see you. I think you're so adorable that it makes my heart burst. Your stalker stared up into your apartment, and the car windows were rolled down to air out the perfume he dumped into the body bag.

However, there was nothing cute about this ugly pig-like fuck that touched your waist. That man had no redeeming qualities, and boy, did I want him to start squealing in pain. I wanted to pinch his body until he had yellowish-brown bruises all over. I wanted to crush his skull with my bare hands and feel his pulse drop. I wanted to be able to drink the blood shower that would come from their body and bathe in it. I want them to realize that you’re off the market, and that you’re solely mine.

They’re not good for you, love. You have seen that time and time again, and they have disappointed you before without fail; so why do you welcome them with open arms? It hurts to see your legs over their shoulders, and to see a bit of your face contorted in pleasure and ecstasy. Is it the sex? Is it the way they give you a fleeting moment of what could have been if they weren’t constantly cheating on you?

That’s pathetic, and you know it. But it’s okay, I’m willing to look past this little transgression. It’s not completely unforgivable. They must’ve broken you down and made you vulnerable enough to pull your pants down. It’s not your fault. It’s theirs.

Your stalker continued to stake out your house, patiently waiting for your ex to come down to the lobby. The moment he did, your stalker would be ready. He might not have been able to get your blood, but killing your ex and taking his was like killing two birds with one stone.

Allure: This is the first fic I wrote that actually has y/n in it! And it's pretty unedited, so if there is mistakes I will probs fix it later on. This dragged on for waaay longer than it needed and tbh, I am never writing a long fic like this again LMAO

[genericpuff]

Are there any things you like about LO? Or is it all shit to you. Personally, I think it could be a great storyline with the right execution, but a lot of the stuff and plot is unnecessary (I.e. Hades being thousands of years older than Kore and making characters fall in love with people they are racist/classist towards 😨😨)

Oh there are LOADS of things that I liked and still enjoy about LO despite all the shit I've thrown at it. I love love LOVE a lot of the older art-

Like, damn, that shit is so charming! I swear I had that Tower 4 panel as my phone background for like, 2 years LOL

Rachel had a really strong understanding of shape language, composition, color theory, and expressive linework in a way that was really appealing and unique at the time, but along the way it was just lost, undoubtedly due to her taking more of a backseat in the character art process and leaving it to her assistants.

That said, there's a lot of... not so charming, too.

I think, on the one hand, there's a lot to appreciate in the old art that shouldn't be rejected as we criticize this series. At the end of the day, as much as we riff on it, many of us did love this series at one point in time, so we shouldn't cringe at what it used to make us feel or pretend like we were ever above it when we were very much lost in it for ages before it went down the tubes.

But there is a lot to be said about the effects of rose-colored glasses, and how LO was never perfect. The reality is that much of Rachel's work is exemplified by the odd beautiful thing that sticks in our memories, but when we actually go back to relive those memories, we find they're all strung together by some not so beautiful stuff that makes us go 'wait what???'

Case in point, with LO we remember beautiful compositions like this:

But then within those same episodes we get:

And it's like oh. Yikes.

Aside from the art, there was also the SA plot as well as the Act of Wrath. The SA plot felt really special to me at the time because I was someone who was once in Persephone's shoes, being pressured into sex that I wasn't ready for but wasn't capable of saying no to. I can appreciate what Rachel was trying to do with that plot, but over time it became clear that she wasn't committed to seeing that plotline through and so I kind of just dropped my expectations for it entirely.

That said, it wasn't the SA plotline that set me off. I had good faith in that one still that it would be addressed eventually. It was the Act of Wrath plotline that did me in. The premise of it was totally my cup of tea in the way of "quirky character has a dark evil backstory!" which is shit that I absolutely LOVE, but then when the "twist" happened that Eris was the one to give her wrath, that was literally when I had my almost "canon event" moment of realizing "wait... I don't think Rachel knows what she's doing." And then it was just all downhill from there. The S2 finale sealed my fate LOL

All that said, as much as my brain is often defaulting to "ew! gross! bad!!!" in all honesty I do still appreciate what LO meant to be back when I still enjoyed it. It meant enough to me that I just couldn't let it the fuck go when it started to go downhill, so much so that I started making my own version of it! And that's something that sets it apart so much more from other comics I really don't like anymore (or comics I never liked to begin with) like Down to Earth, The Kiss Bet, Let's Play, etc. where I really can't even be bothered to think about them let alone talk about them to the extent I do about LO. I may be full of beans when it comes to LO, but I'd still rather be talking about it and all its failings and what it used to mean to me than about any of those other works. I loved it enough to still want it in my life and that's what Rekindled has accomplished for me.

[cosmopretty]

Nika Mühl x Short Fem

SO PROTECTIVE OF YOU

Always touching you in some way

Hand on your waist, thigh, arm around your shoulders, holding your hand

She loves how her hands dwarf yours

Always making fun of you for being short the team joining in too

You walk into the gym durning the girls practice and stand next to Geno. He smiles at you “Hello Y/n” he looks over at the girls and signals them to come over. The girls huddle around you both, and you smile at Nika and wave at her “Hi baby” you whisper. Geno tells them corrections they need to work on and what they did good at before ending practice. Nika smiles at you and hugs you wrapping her arms around your shoulders, your head in her chest.

“Hi Niks how was practice?” You ask moving out form the hug and looking up at the girl. She shrugs “Normal baby I just wanna go home with you” she emphasized the word home and smiles down at you. Azzi wraps her arm around you “Your always Nika come on girl hang out with us” she rests her elbow on your head. You push her off of you and squint your eyes at her “I was literally with you all this morning” you say.

Paige shakes her head “No no you were with Nika and we were just there” you shoves her and she doesn’t move. Paige pouts down on you “Aw the Smurf mad guys” you scoff and kick her in the ankle, she groans and holds her foot on her hand jumping up and down. Nike laughs “That’s what happens when you make my lil Smurf mad” you groan and flip your girlfriend off. You lift you hands up “Let’s stop making fun of me and talking about how KK is only 5’9 and playing basketball” you say pointing to the latter. KK raises her brows at you “I rather be 5’9 than 5’3 you dwarf” Nika walks over wraps her arm around your shoulder “Leave Y/n alone KK go focus on how to keep the ball in your hands” she rolls her eyes at the freshman player.

You lean your body onto Nika’s and Ice looks at her phone for a second “Yall let’s go to Canes they just started serving lunch and I’m starving” all the girls nod and go to the locker room to get there stuff and change. You stay in the gym with Nika, looking up at your girlfriend you smile at her “Your so hot when you play basketball you know that?” you ask. The Croatian girl smirks grabbing your waist “Yeah I know my pretty girl” you go on your tip toes and she leans down meeting you half way. She kisses you squeezing your waist while you move your hands to her neck. You both kiss for a moment before you hear the girls laughing Nika moves your head to her chest and flips them off “YOUR MAD YOUR SINGLE” she yells at them.

STEALING HER CLOTHES

She loves the way you look on her clothes and how her hoodies go down to your knees

Super protective when you guys go out

The team decided to go out to a bar tonight to celebrate their big win. You put on a small tight black dress with matching heels and gold jewelry. You go to the living room where most of the girls were and do a spin “What do we think?” you ask with an upside down smile on your face. KK squeals and bites her finger “WOW OH MY GOSH” she says squealing again. You shake you head and grab KK’s hands to make her stand with you, you spin her around “OKAYY KK I SEE YOU POOKIE” you yell hyping her up as she dances around.

Nika walks in with a long black dress matching yours, her straight hair falling down her shoulders. You smile at her and look her up and down “DAMN babe you look good” you say. She walks up to you and kisses your forehead before leaning down to whisper in your ear “You look so sexy baby”.

All of you guys end up walking down to the bar and all start going separate ways inside. Ice, KK, Paige and Azzi were sitting at a table on live. You and Aubrey went to the bar and ordered shots together. You clink your glass with her “Cheers” you say downing the shit with your head back. Nika watches you from where she’s sat next to Caroline and Jana. You turn around and go to the dance floor before swinging your hips to the beat of the song that was playing. Nike immediately gets yo the second she sees you dancing because she knows she’s not the only one watching you. She goes behind you and wraps her arms around your waist “Hey baby let’s go sit with the girls” she says not really asking.

You go to sit in a empty seat before Nika pulls you down into her lap. You wave to the live and take a sip from Paige’s Shirley Temple ‘no alcohol’ you look at the blonde and point to the drink winking. Nike wraps her arm around your waist rubbing your stomach, while she reads live comments from behind you “Y/n’s my baby she’s so cute ain’t that right” she asks you. You blush and kiss her jaw “Nika my wife guys” you joke laughing. You feel Nika tense behind you and you turn around and look at her only to find her glaring at some guy who seemed to be looking at you. Nika lets out a breath before grabbing your neck and kissing you moving her tongue in your mouth making a whole show for the people watching. You pull away and lick your lips “What was that for?” You ask the Croatian girl. She shrugs “He was looking at my girl had to show him who your belong too” she smirks. You raise your brows at her and squeeze her thigh that’s under you “Im all yours baby” you whisper and she smiles kissing you before turning your head with her hand back to the live.

She loves to go shopping with you and you both try on clothes together

She loves laying on your chest and wrapping her arms around you loving how they go all the way around you

Her hand in always in your back pocket or gripping the back of your shirt when your in a crowded place so you don’t get lost

ALWAYS POSTING YOU

She always checks up on you to make sure your eating and drinking water

Your her passenger princess

You walk outside the dorms hand in hand with your girlfriend. Nika let’s go and opens the door for you, you smile and get in putting your seatbelt on. She comes in the drivers seat and hands you her phone “Play some music moja bebe” you nod and start playing your playlist. She puts her hand on the back of your seat while turning back so she can start driving. She puts her hand on your thigh and starts rubbing it with her thumb.

She picks you up and holds you on her shoulders so you can dunk

Tried teaching you basketball but you couldn’t shoot for shit

She loves your height difference

The way your head reaches her chest makes her feel so proud

Calls you her “WNBA WIFE”

Loves mirror pictures of you both

Kisses your forehead 24/7

[puck-luck]

last resort | trevor zegras

warnings: face-sitting, fingering, dirty talk… etc. trevor is kind of a little subby in his words, but he’s VERY much in charge, so. pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!reader request: “face-sitting! she would be soooo hesitant and shy about it but he would literally love everything abt it (also trevor kinda has the perfect nose for face sitting icl)” wc: 1250

“Look how pretty you are riding my fingers,” Trevor murmurs in your ear, his head tilted down to stare at the place where your hips are bucking against his hand. He’s fully clothed beside you, one of your legs thrown across his lap and the other spread wide, dangling off the bed. “Can’t wait to see how pretty you look riding my face.”

You whine, your hips still swiveling and trying to get some friction onto your swollen clit. Trevor is torturing you, wanting to bring you to orgasm with his fingers alone. You’ve been going at it for what feels like forever, with sweat lining your brow and causing your hair to stick to your forehead in a way that is decidedly NOT sexy, but Trevor loves anyway.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Trevor continues. 

His voice sticks to your skin and bounces around in your head like a growing fog. You throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the way his fingers feel inside of you rather than the dirty words that are distracting you.

“You’ve gotten so good at moving your hips for me and making yourself feel good,” he says. “I love when you use me like I’m your toy.” 

He smears a kiss on your cheek and you cry out as the pads of his fingers rub over your walls, pressing incessantly against the one spot inside of you that’s causing you to see stars behind your closed eyelids. 

“I want you to fuck my tongue like you fuck my fingers, baby.”

Your orgasm is so close, just out of reach, and you can’t handle Trevor’s words.

“Stop talking and just fuck me,” you grit out, your hand finding his chest and fisting at the fabric of his shirt.

“Why don’t you shut me up?” Trevor suggests, teasing you by stilling his fingers inside of you. 

You grind down, trying to get him to move again, but he refuses. He draws his fingers out of your cunt and brings them, dripping, to his mouth. When you open your eyes, you find him sucking on the digits, staring at you like he had been waiting to make this point for ages. He moans around his fingers, drawing them out of his mouth with a pop.

“You taste so good,” he says. “So sweet. I’d die a happy man if I suffocated between your legs.”

You glare at him, still feeling incredibly empty and incredibly exposed. Your hand goes between your legs, filling yourself up for a singular moment of reprieve before Trevor takes your wrist and brings it behind your back, along with the other. He holds your wrists with one of his hands and the other comes up to cradle your breast. He squeezes, watching you squirm and grow red.

“Give it to me,” Trevor breathes out, tilting his head to ghost over your lips with his own. “C’mon, baby, it’s simple. I want you to sit on my face and you want to come. I’ll be a good boy for you, so quiet as I fill you up with my tongue. Just want to make you feel good, please?”

You whimper, your lip jutting out in a pout. “Trevor,” you reply, your voice shaking. You don’t trust yourself to say much else. 

He understands anyway.

Trevor takes the chance to kiss you, a pinch to your nipple causing you to open your mouth in a moan, and he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself in the feeling of the kiss, following Trevor’s lips when he pulls away. 

Eyes hazy, you watch as he lays back on the bed and looks at you. 

“Come up here and take what you need,” Trevor says.

Your eyelashes flutter at the command, still feeling a little stupid from the way his tongue invaded your mouth in that kiss. You know Trevor’s good with his tongue, but you’ve never sat on his face before. The dynamics of the act fill your head. Are you supposed to sit-sit? Are you supposed to stay up on your knees and let him do the work? Are you supposed to grind down on him? Can he even breathe?

As you consider it, Trevor just smiles at you with raised eyebrows. He sticks out his tongue and wiggles it at you, making you laugh. You shuffle towards him on your knees, and his smile turns into a predatory smirk. He places a hand on one of your thighs and looks you up and down. He licks his lips.

“I want you to sit on my face,” he commands. “And I want you to ride my tongue until you come.”

You swing a leg over his body, so that now your knees are bracketing his head. “Shut up,” you tell him again, angling yourself so his mouth is right under your hole. It aches to be filled, just inches away from relief, but you can’t manage to lower yourself down yet.

Trevor wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you down, anchoring you on his face.

You let out a loud moan at the first contact, the flat of Trevor’s tongue flexing against your entrance while he nuzzles his face into your folds. He keeps you in place as he begins to lap at the wet slick that had already accumulated while he fingered you, deciding that only once you were cleaned up, he would stick his tongue inside your entrance.

Your mouth drops open as his nose bumps against your clit, making you buck your hips forward. You can’t move much due to Trevor’s strong arms, but he allows you to make your aborted grinds against his nose while his tongue probes your hole.

You feel a bit cross-eyed when he finally licks into your entrance, your fingers finding his hair and pulling at the light brown strands. Your eyes, lids hooded and vision fuzzy, find his clear green ones below you. They’re full of a challenge and you know that if he could smile, his lips would be turned up in a smirk. He’s begging you to come undone. 

You throw your head back and whimper, little sounds escaping you with each grind against his nose. Trevor flicks his tongue inside of you and you bring one of your hands up to knead your breast. With a pinch to your nipple and a pointed thrust of his tongue, your legs shake and you come all over Trevor’s mouth. He licks you through it, continuing to suck up your juices like it’s his last meal until you’re wrenching yourself away and collapsing on the other side of him.

You breathe heavily, trying to catch your breath, and Trevor turns to lay on his side and face you. Your stomach flips at the glistening fluids dripping down Trevor’s chin, at the way his tongue darts out to swipe over his lips to capture as much of the come as he can.

You reach out and drag him closer, licking into his mouth and tasting yourself. Trevor’s hand rests on your hip, while the other returns to your chest, and you find his hair again. 

“Was it everything you dreamed?” You ask.

Trevor shakes his head. You blink in surprise, ready to open your mouth and ask why, ask what you could’ve done better, but Trevor silences you with a statement of his own. “It didn’t last long enough,” he says. “We’ll have to go again.”

notes: hi welcome back i thought i would reward y'all for your patience this past week with an inexperienced!reader oneshot! <3 loving you guys big, as always, hit me up! talk to me in my inbox! i miss you guys!

[messylxve]

old flame | aaron hotchner x reader

part two

content warning: angst, yearning, sad hotch, tension is THICC, mentions of abduction, guns, pregnant character, angry cops

pt1

Aaron still thinks about you most days. There was not much he clung onto from his years before, but you were one of the few he couldn’t let go of.

He supposed it was because you were one of the few things he never got closure for. You had just disappeared one day, completely untraceable as if you never wanted to be seen by him again.

And he didn’t know why.

It was a rather quiet day in the BAU. Morgan and Prentiss goofed off while Reid rambled on about…something. Aaron stuck it out in his office per usual.

He should have been doing paperwork, but his mind wandered elsewhere. It wandered to the picture in his wallet. He gazed at it sadly, wondering when it all went wrong.

The picture was of you and him: a selfie taken on a camera from when the two of you went to a store late at night and decided to cart each other around in the shopping carts.

Strange how some of the happy memories he had left, were of you.

“Hotch.”

He flipped his wallet shut, his attention now on JJ as she stood at the doorway of his office. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “What do you have?”

“Multiple abductions in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Two girls, a woman, and a boy. All ranging in ages, but all related to officers under the police force.”

“What’s the time difference between each?”

JJ shook her head, flipping through one of the folders. “Three days.”

Hotch quickly pocketed his wallet and stood from his desk. “We’ll do the debriefing on the jet, alert the others. Wheels up in 10.”

To say it was chaos in Harrisburg Police precinct was an understatement. Phones rang endlessly, people rushed around and the sound of arguing echoed from the chief’s office.

“It's not usually like this,” one officer greeted. “This has become personal for a few of us and they aren't taking it lightly.”

Hotch scanned over the precinct, the uneasiness in the air radiating out to his team. “I suggest you take those officers off the case. We can't afford any distractions from anyone to interfere with this.”

“That's what were working on,” he nodded over to the office where four uniformed individuals crowded around a desk. “They aren't making it easy.”

Hotch’s frown deepened before looking around. “Do you have a space for my team to set up?”

“Yes, right this way,” he motioned for the group to follow him before turning back to Hotch. “Chief wants you in her office before we begin breaking things down.”

“Thank you.”

Hotch didn't know why he didn’t suspect something when he heard the shouting the first time. Walking closer, he realized he knew that voice. It was the voice that had haunted him for years.

“Do not question my authority again. The four of you are suspended from this case. If I hear another complaint, argument or so much of a whisper about my decision your guns will be confiscated until the case is closed. Am I clear?”

Aaron’s heart stuttered. His hand found the doorframe to grip as he watched in awe.

A small chorus of ‘yes chief’ followed your reprimand from all but one officer.

“Am. I. Clear. Smith?”

The man grit his teeth, staring you dead in the eye. “Yes chief.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Each officer left the room, leaving the two of you alone and suddenly you felt like kids all over again.

“Aaron.”

“y/n,” he breathed out. “I didn’t know—,”

“Neither did I,” you interrupted, knowing exactly what he was talking about. You felt your defenses slip away for the first time in a long time in his presence. You hated to admit it but it felt good. Seeing him again despite all of the years away.

But that look in his eyes, the pain and heartbreak. It took you right back to the day you fucked up.

It was almost as a spell was casted, Aaron saw your walls form again.

You cleared your throat and folded your arms. “There are only so many officers I can have on the field for this, so I thank you and your team for being here.”

“I- of course.”

Aaron had never felt so unsure during a case.

“Agent Smith says he was on the phone with her right before it happened and she hung up quickly,” you mused, standing in the front entryway of the Smith home with Hotch and Morgan. “Jessica Smith was 8 months pregnant when taken…”

“Which means she couldn’t have put up much of a fight,” Hotch finished your thoughts. Your eyes found his for just a moment and your heart stuttered in its chest. Had it been so many years ago, the two of you would have laughed about it, or shouted jinx, but not anymore.

“But she still would have put up some semblance of a struggle. She didn’t fight at all.” You cleared your throat.

Morgan looked oddly between the two of you, crossing his arms. “Right, so is it possible the unsub had a weapon. Threatened her to let him in.”

Hotch shook his head. “I don’t think so, the unsub had to be someone she trusted.”

“But didn’t want around the kids,” you muttered, eyes staring down the entryway.

Morgan furrowed his brows. “What makes you say that.”

Your eyes flickered up to Hotch, that’s where they wanted to go, but you trained them on Morgan instead. “The other kids were home, would’ve ran to the door to see who might be there.”

Hotch watches you carefully as you walk over to the door, your gloved hand closing it. “Mom makes it to the door first, sees the unsub through the peephole and recognizes him, but thinks it might not be a good idea for the husband to know he was there.”

You turn away from the door, facing the men. “She hangs up the phone abruptly, tells the kids to go play and leaves her phone right here on the table before opening up the door.”

You open the door slowly and step outside, noting the mud on the welcome mat leading to the the first few feet of the house.

“The mud from the prints match the ones at the other scenes, but they don’t run through the house…they stop here.”

“She didnt want him far into the house at all,” Hotch finished off again.

“So that means the unsub is someone each family knows and Jessica recognizes, but is a sore subject, not wanting her husband to know he was there,” Morgan theorizes.

“Someone who was fired or discharged,” you realized.

Hotch furrowed his brows. “Have you recently let go of officers.”

You nodded your head. “A few. But there’s no way to go through files like that without getting unneeded attention from other officers.”

Hotch turned to Morgan. “Call Garcia, tell her—,”

“No need,” you interrupted. “I have direct files saved to my personal computer. It’ll be faster.”

Hotch eyes stayed on you, contemplating his choices.

“Morgan, get back to the precinct, update the others. l/n and I will retrieve the files.”

The car ride was…awkward to say the least.

Hotch had a million things he wanted to say, he needed to say. But somewhere between his heart and his voice, it died upon delivery.

“Spit it out,” you blurted out suddenly, forcing his attention to you.

“What?”

“You’re twiddling your thumbs and biting the inside of your cheek. Every time you look at me you take this gasp of air. What do you want to tell me?”

So many years had passed and yet you could still read him like the back of your hand.

“That was impressive back there…” he swallowed hard. “You’d make a good profil—,”

“Please don’t tell me you cooked up all of your guts just to tell me I’d be a good profiler,” you laughed.

It sounded harsh, but there was something in your tone that eased Aaron’s heart. He laughed too for the first time in a long time.

“No I guess not.”

However just as easily as the moment eased up, it easily tensed back into that painful silence.

“Why did you leave,” he blurted out finally.

Your smile dissolved so quickly, it pained Aaron to be the reason it was even there.

“I got an offer from UPenn. Full ride.”

Aaron frowned. “Congratulations.” It was genuine, despite how hollow his voice sounded. “But that’s not the real reason is it.”

Your voice suddenly felt very raw as you attempted to swallow back your emotions, but just as quickly as they left, it came back. “No…”

“Why—,”

“Because,” you burst out. “After that night, when you begged me to…” you couldn’t bear to finish that sentence. “…what we did…I couldn’t go back to what we were. It hurt too much to. I was ready to tell you everything when I saw you again but…you and Haley. She… I couldn’t do that to her.”

You were bearing your emotions out, on the verge of tears releasing every pent up emotion since that night and Aaron never felt more stupid in his life.

They had finally come at a red light when Aaron spoke up. “What night? What did I…what did I ask you to do?”

He was terrified of your answer.

But you. Everything in you stopped. Your heart, your brain, even your breath. Everything was so silent when you turned your head and finally looked him in the eye for the first time in ages.

“You really don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “No.”

No

No

No

His single word reverberated through your bones, sinking deep into your soul. What do you mean no?

You turned to the road, a humorless chuckle falling from your lips. “You don’t even remember.”

“y/n,” Aaron called your name with such desperation. “Please.”

You looked back at him, hearing that tone in his voice. Suddenly you were taken back to that night. Between the pleas in his voice and that depressingly sad look in his eyes, he looked just the way he did all those nights ago.

God how long is this light?

“You were drunk. Haley accused you of being in love with me. You begged me to kiss you to prove it was a lie.”

His heart squeezed in his chest and his lungs felt as if it was wrapped in barbed wire. It hurt.

“Did I?”

Your eyes flickered over to him for just a millisecond.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

part three coming soon!!

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