#and then when I was like 22 he shows up again expecting all to be good. LMAO.

[imageofvoid]

Every time I see a dollhouse I’m reminded that my grandmother on my fathers side had a beautiful dollhouse she maintained for me and was constantly buying new items and sending me pictures and was there for me when I visited her and when she passed away my father simply got rid of it

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t know. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[eternalxvenus]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 1 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain. (angst version to my first birthday girl blurb) (title changed for series — previous title “birthday girl angst version”)

cw (for whole series): 18+, rafe x f!reader, mentions of drug use, angst, eventual smut, violence

wc: 0.6k

notes: honestly i’m thinking about making this particular blurb a series but i’m not sure though

You woke up on your birthday excited to get your day started. Your boyfriend Rafe told you the day before he would pick you up for brunch, and then you would spend the day doing whatever you wanted.

By the time you showered and were ready to go, your stomach was growling, prepared to have some delicious food. You checked your phone and saw the time read 10:45. Rafe said that he'd be here by 11:00.

30 minutes later, you hadn't heard anything from Rafe, so you decided to call him. Each of your calls went straight to voicemail. You were starting to get worried, so you decided to check social media and see if he may have posted anything. You clicked on Kelce's close friend's story and saw a party happening at his house. A few videos later, you saw one of Rafe doing coke off the table in front of him.

Your eyes start to water. He had promised you that he would stop doing drugs when you guys started dating. You knew it made him irritable and hard to be around. It also made him forgetful, which means he was probably high out of his mind somewhere and probably doesn't remember he promised to take you to brunch. Or the fact that it's your birthday.

You wipe the few stray tears off your cheek, careful not to ruin your makeup, before calling Sarah, inviting her and the pogues to have breakfast with you at your place. When you asked her about Rafe, she said she hadn't spoken to him and didn't know where he was.

-

The time was currently 10:22 pm, and you had just gotten home from your birthday dinner with your family. Rafe was supposed to be there too, but you had to lie and say he hadn't been feeling well. You could barely enjoy yourself. You still hadn't gotten so much as a text from him.

You slipped off your heels, but before you could make it up the stairs there was a ring at your doorbell. You opened the door to see Rafe standing there with flowers in hand.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You really didn't want to sit around and listen to his excuses.

"Baby, I'm sorry, really. Just please let me explain."

You scoffed but leaned against your doorframe, prompting him to keep going.

"Okay, so Kelce was throwing this party, and I wasn't going to go, but everyone kept messaging me saying I should at least swing by and everything since they hadn't seen me in a while. I went and it was supposed to be no more than 15 minutes, but things got out of hand..."

"Yeah Rafe, things got out of hand as in you stayed at the party and started doing fucking coke? Out of hand as in you got so high you didn't text me all day, on my birthday, while I'm worried sick about you?"

Rafe's eyes widened, obviously not expecting you to know about that. He outstretched his hand that was holding the flowers to you. "Baby I... I'm sorry. I can take you shopping to make up for-"

You smacked the flowers out of his hand and he flinched. Your voice was shaky as tears pooled in your eyes. "No Rafe! Money isn't going to fix this. Obviously, I'm not important enough for you to keep your promise. Getting high means more to you than being there for your girlfriend."

Before he could speak again, you slammed the door in his face and made your way upstairs even as he started to talk to you through the door before moving on to blowing up your phone. You blocked his number and went to bed, unsure of what was next for your relationship.

part 2

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

© All Rights Reserved. Do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.

[prettymonegasque]

not acceptable

Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader

Summary: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do when your pretty boyfriend is a lil dumb

Warnings: Excessive cursing, Lando slander, grown men sharing a single brain cell, fluff?

Word Count: 1.3k

Based on my favourite scene in Schitt’s Creek

In all the two years you’ve been in Ferrari, the speculations and rumours of you dating Charles were non-stop. Neither of you paid much attention to it. You were both in happy relationships. However, that changed in the summer of ‘22 when you broke up with your partner. It wasn’t messy and you both agreed it was for the better. You focused on the rest of the season. 

Fast forward to the summer of ‘23, you and Charles were both single. You decided to give in to the speculations and give the relationship a real shot. You went on a few dates, each one being more fun than the previous one. Yet neither of you took the leap to become exclusive. You both liked each other but it wasn’t said out loud as much as you would’ve wanted to. So when Charles invited you to a game night with his friends, you thought it would be the one where he introduced you as his girlfriend. 

You knocked on his apartment door at 7 pm. You had brought a charcuterie board because you panicked and the first thing your mind thought was cheese. 

“Y/N! Come in.” Charles opened the door and hugged you. You tried your best to return while managing the charcuterie board. He laughed at your struggle, took the board from your hand and led you in. You spotted some familiar faces in the room. “Hey, guys. This is Y/N. My teammate as you know.” To risk being dramatic, the only description for what you felt was “death by a thousand cuts”. You still forced a smile and greeted everyone. You took a seat on the sofa next to Charles. “You brought a charcuterie board?” Pierre asked puzzled. “Dibs on gouda.” Yelled a familiar Brit.

**************

For the next few hours, you forced yourself to forget about your “teammate” and focus on the game instead. To everyone’s surprise, you were very good at Monopoly. You had already collected over $7000 worth of assets. You were more than happy to win by default. Arthur suggested Uno and everyone complied. You had never played it before which made the group very happy. 

When you got your cards you leaned over to Charles and whispered “What the fuck should I do now? ” Charles peeked at your cards and by instinct you shied them away from him. “You have to show me the cards so I can tell you what to do.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and showed him the cards. “How the hell did you get 3 +4 cards?” “Why? Is that bad?” “No no. It is very good and I am very grateful my turn is before you.” “I am gonna crush these motherfuckers” You silently giggled.

“Y/N your turn,” Andrea called out. You placed the +4 card on the table. “Seriously?” Lando sighed and took 4 cards from the deck. “I thought you'd never played this before.” “I haven’t. I’m just that good, Norris.” “You know you could put all the +4 cards at once? ” Charles whispered in your ear. When your turn came again you placed both your +4 cards down. “Oh come on. You’re an absolute ass.” Lando exclaimed. “You just got destroyed by a UNO rookie, Lando” Pierre doubled over in laughter. “Also you have only one card left. You can call out UNO” Arthur nudged you. “UNO!” You yelled. “Well, I guess we have a winner. ” Lorenzo sighed and folded.

You started feeling a little guilty. Your winning spree kept cutting the game short. It didn’t look like anyone was having any fun. Even if Charles isn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend, you still want his friends and brothers to like you as Charles’ girl. Charles brought in Scrabble as his last resort. He wasn’t expecting to go through 2 games so quickly. You were chosen as the judge. You promised yourself to go easy on everyone. You weren’t sure if you were making a good impression on everyone but boy did your ego love this. 

**************

“What do you mean ‘rizz’ isn’t accepted?” Arthur yelled. “Mate it isn’t in the dictionary.” “Then why does everyone call Lando ‘NoRIZZ’?” “Hey!” “I consider it as an acceptable word. We know the meaning. It exists. It’s a word.” You chimed in. “Thank you!” Arthur smiled and added 13 points to himself. The game continued and you limited yourself to simple words. And you accepted every word regardless of how ridiculous it was. 

“Yes Pierre ‘Fuck’ is a word.” 

“I mean we all know what ‘OMG’ is”

“Sure, Charles. You can make Frenglish words.” 

You could physically feel the pain from the insanity of some words but you were on a mission. You nodded and smiled and carried on. The words became chaotic by the minute. Your last straw was when Lando argued that “Skibidi” should be accepted. 

“That’s it. I can’t take this shit anymore. I respect the game too much to put up with this. You are way too old to use the word ‘Skibidi’, Lando.” “Yeah so wrong, Lando” Pierre fakes disappointment. “You! Fuck is not acceptable.” “Not acceptable. Yes sorry, Y/N” He bites back a laugh. “OMG!? Are you kidding me?” “I wasn’t.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “And my boyfriend sits there looking pretty and wanting to make up Frenglish words. THAT’S NOT EVEN A LANGUAGE. NOT ACCEPTABLE!” 

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Charles looked up at you. “I said Lando is old.” You tried to shift the conversation. “Why the fuck am I getting slandered?” “No. I think it was something about your boyfriend being pretty and making up words.” Charles redirects you. “Um... I don’t remember saying that.” You mumbled. “Yeah no. That’s what we heard. Right Arthur?” Pierre snickered. 

“Hey if my girlfriend says Frenglish isn’t acceptable then it isn’t, guys” Charles smirked. “Or it is. I don’t remember saying it.” You shrugged. “So you can do whatever you like.” The ceiling looked much more interesting than the gorgeous green eyes looking at you. “I think our work is done here. Let’s go guys.” Lando stood up. “And what exactly was that work, Norizz?” You called out as everyone was walking out the door chattering. Lando just smiled at you and closed the door. 

You and Charles remained quiet and just looked at each other for a long moment. “I don’t k-” “Do you r-” You both spoke at the same time. Gentle giggles echoed in the silence. “I was gonna ask if you regretted it?” Charles looked at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “No. God no. Charles, I don’t regret it at all. But to be honest, I kinda thought you hosted this game night to introduce me as your girlfriend. It sucked ass when you called me your teammate.” You looked down at your feet. You contemplated if sitting down would make this whole shebang less awkward. But Charles quietened your thoughts by standing up and taking your hands in his.

 “Cherie, seconds before you knocked, I was having a full-blown panic attack. I really really like you and I wanted us to be official but I didn’t know what you felt. The guys were there for emotional support because I do not trust myself with any high-risk situation.”

“You drive a car at 300 km/hr almost every weekend.” 

“Please. That is nothing compared to you. Every time I get in the cockpit, I’m more worried about your safety than mine. I was going to introduce you as my girlfriend. Trust me the word was on the tip of my tongue but I was being a pussy and chickened out. I’m so glad you did it tho.” His smile made those adorable dimples pop as he hugged you. “I’m so glad I did it too.” Your voice came out muffled with your cheek pressed against his chest. 

“And I’m so glad you called me pretty.”   

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . SOON I WILL SINK INTO YOU ; — how multiple blue lock boys kiss you.

FEATURING: nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, bachira meguru + isagi yoichi

warnings: f!reader, makeout sessions, honestly nothing too bad tho! all characters written 22+ still. note: it’s been a while since i’d written for isagi so i thought i’d include him in this :<

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO

it’s lazy the way nagi kisses you, unsurprising given the snowy haired strikers usual slacker attitude but it’s different when he comes to you — he always finds himself wanting to chase more despite the way you make him feel like he’s melting.

it was easy to get him drunk on your kisses, slowly blinking up at you when you pull away like a wordless like plea for more as his head knocks drowsily against your own — chasing the press of your lips and the graze of your tongue along his. it was easy to get lost in makeout sessions with him, comfortable in his lap as he breathes deep into your mouth, whimpering when you suck on his tongue and curl your own around it afterwards.

nagi had never kissed someone before he’d met you but now he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough, not when your hands are curled in his messy hair and his hands are palming and squeezing at your body as he twists into you, panting when his lungs quake with the need to breathe.

“hey, not yet, angel. gimme more kisses, please.” he huffs when you pull away to peck at his lips, making him pout up at you before his chin rests on your chest and he truly looks like a puppy begging for food as his arms wrap around your waist to squeeze. his cheeks are flushed and his normally mused bed head is even worse from your hands but he still leans in immediately when you dip your head to meet him again.

“you’re so greedy, sei.” you giggle before your pressing your lips against nagi’s once more, feeling his large palms graze under the hem of your shirt so he can feel the warm press of your skin against his own as he groans. his movements are slow, languid but there’s a hunger that’s still evident as he pulls you closer — holding you tighter when he feels like you’re about to pull away again as he presses his tongue between your lips, humming at the taste of you that has him feeling drowsy and kiss drunk.

“eh, so. jus’ feels too good, wanna give you more.”

✩ ˛˚ . ITOSHI RIN

you’d never expected rin to let himself get lost in your kisses as much as he actually does, his stoic exterior always made it seem like he was someone who was always in control of himself — self control especially being something that was so easy for him to maintain.

but it isn’t until he has you against him, greeting him after a long day at practice with your arms around his broad shoulders, does he really feel the cracks showing in his facade. your lips feel like silk against his and the press of your chest, tight against his own makes him feel dizzy before he’s letting his gym bag drop at his feet as he guides you back.

“rin?” you gasp as his hands squeeze at your hips but rin only takes the opportunity to push his tongue between your parted lips, groaning with the first press of your tongue along his own as his brows crumble with need. it’s messy and rushed, he’s drooling like he’s losing his sanity aswell as his control with every heavy breath he takes into the kiss, pushing his name between your lips as he swallows every languid moan that follows after.

“don’t pull away, i’m not done with you yet.”

it catches you off guard but it fills you with anticipation when you suddenly feel your back press against the wall in the hallway, the kitchen counter and any other surface he can cage you against — keeping you pressed against his chest and the space behind you despite the way he refuses to break the kiss, not even to breathe.

rin’s barely said a word despite gruff groans and huffs, it’s like fire lived within his kiss and he had a way of melting every part of you before he’s trailing them down your jaw line, deliberately growling along the sensitive spots in your neck until you’re gasping and scratching at the broad expanse of his shoulders that only have him coming back for more.

“shit, i’m the only one who gets to feel you like this. say it.”

✩ ˛˚ . ITOSHI SAE

the way sae kissed you was perfect, slender fingers trailing along your jawline before they’re tilting their way underneath your chin — just enough for your gaze to meet his before it drops to your lips and he leans in. every press and twist into you made you feel like putty, feeling his other arm hook around your hips like he was helping to keep you upright.

there was something intoxicating about him, about the way he hums when you open your mouth for him so easily — giving into the press of his tongue and the way it curls and lavs over your own. he kisses you in a way that has your eyes fluttering, lungs quaking when you press yourself closer and you feel his fingers cup gently around your jawline, stroking at your skin as your hands press against his chest.

it was loving, almost romantic when you’re behaving so well for him but sae always did love how obedient you were — giving into his kisses until you’re panting, pulling away to breathe until you feel his hands curl around the back of your neck instead as he gives you a sharp look and a growled “no.” before he’s pulling you back.

that’s when they get more intense, more all consuming as he pulls your arms around his shoulders — groaning when your fingers are in his hair and you feel his hand squeeze at your skin before he’s licking into your mouth. he liked being able to have you like this, to have you gasping his name— completely his for him to devour as his lips move with yours and he kisses you breathless.

only when you’re almost trembling against him does he offer you an inch, pulling away to let his lidded gaze dart along your features as he takes in the sight of you — swollen lips and starry eyes while his fingers dance across your jawline, collarbones, cheeks before he’s swiping his thumb along your lips with a slow hum.

“do you want more? then tell me, sweetheart.”

✩ ˛˚ . BACHIRA MEGURU

the way bachira kisses you is enthusiastic, rushed in a way that is so uniquely him as you feel him grin into your lips — he meets you like a hurricane as he returns home, arms outstretched before they’re on you and his lips follow suit as he lets himself feel you. “missed you today, baby. mhm!” he sings despite the way his words are slurred and muffled into the kiss, barely audible to anyone who isn’t you — not that there’s anyone else to hear.

even when you pull away momentarily, he’s already seeking out more — barely out of his shoes at the front door as he tries to drag you back into him, pouting and chuckling as he tilts his head and gives you an exaggerated, sad look. “hey, that’s not a good welcome home kiss, gotta gimme another m’kay?” and who were you to deny the striker when he was so charming, so desperate for the press of your lips as he finally kicks off his shoes and takes another step.

but you can’t deny the way bachira consumes you whenever you’re wrapped in him, feeling him moan and whimper shamelessly with every twist and graze of your tongue — from down the hallway until he’s got you sprawled out on the couch beneath him, grabbing at each other in the hopes you never have to pull away.

it’s only when you’re both breathing deep that he pulls back to smirk down at you, his hair is mused from your hands and he decides to busy himself with a few peppered kisses over your features — quick presses of his lips along your cheeks until you’re giggling and pushing him away as they turn ticklish. “aw c’mon, baby! need to know how much you missed me today, mhm. need a little more still, don’cha think?”

but bachira is so convincing you cant help but pull him back for more, fingers twisting in his dual coloured hair as he presses you deeper into the cushions beneath you and you feel him chuckle against your lips, egging you on like he isn’t meeting you eagerly because hes “thought about you all day, gonna show you how much, m’kay?”

✩ ˛˚ . ISAGI YOICHI

kisses with isagi normally started off soft, he was enamoured by you, always — letting you breathe and press yourself against him as a blush stings at his cheeks, trailing down his neck and chest despite the way his lips move against yours gently. it’s like he’s practiced every touch, there’s still some hesitation — maybe a slight tremble when he touches you but it’s so uniquely him that you can’t help but seek out more.

but you know that your boyfriend has always been adaptable, a genius when it comes to it really — it’s like a switch flicks when he feels the first part of your lips, the first trembled breath against him as you push yourself closer and he feels consumed. a sudden urge to devour like he would on the field and suddenly his grip on you feels tighter — making you feel too warm under your clothes when he twists himself into you.

“is this okay?” isagi gasps despite the way he’s already got you breathless and gasping, licking into your mouth with a neediness than seemed so absent a few moments ago it’s like he’s different now — sucking on your tongue as he groans against you, rough presses of his palms as he pulls you closer and every press of his lips feels like they burn you in the best way as you nod needily.

“do you like this?” he gasps again, his tone is lower this time when he takes a breath, teeth grazing lightly along your lower lip and you can only sink your nails into him to keep yourself grounded as he grumbles — sighing when your hands twist in his hair and it only makes him kiss you deeper, breathless until you’re like putty in his hold with a soft mhm.

but you think it’s insane actually when isagi pulls away and he’s just the same as he was at the start, flushed cheeks and heavy breathes as he sends you a shy grin and scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly — like the rough, ragged part of him was swallowed in that kiss until you lean in again and something dark sparks in his gaze once more as his eyes land on your lips.

“then.. do you think you can handle more?”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[msbigredmachine]

Black Sweatpants (Roman Reigns)

Why did the Tribal Chief arrive late to the Pat McAfee Show? Based on Roman's appearance on March 22 2024. Pat was forced to cut a promo on the fly because Roman took too long to come out 😂

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Smut

-------------

You knew he would get out there late, and you accepted full responsibility. But given the way you were getting dicked down right now, it was totally worth it.

Your blood-red lace thong dangled from your right ankle as Roman jackhammered into you, his thick shaft stuffed inside your tender walls. Biting down on your bottom lip, you wrapped your arms tight around the big man, long-awaited pleasure coursing down your spine all the way to your pastel-colored toes as he pounded you out in the corner of the spacious locker room.

"Oh, ohhh fuck," you couldn't help but cry out at one particularly deep thrust.

"Keep it down before someone comes in here," he growled. Hunched over you, the wicked gleam in his eyes watching you struggle to suppress your moans, told you he was relishing every second of your agony.

"I'm trying, you ain't helping," you whined back.

"Not hard enough," he countered, nudging your legs wider and making you watch his dick disappear inside your wetness. He slapped your hand away when you placed it on his abs to push him back because he was getting too deep. "Naw, you wanted this dick all day, you better take it now..."

When you ordered the new all-black hoodie and joggers set from Nike for Roman, you knew he would look good in it. However, when he returned for his scheduled private flight to Iowa for Pat McAfee's show wearing it, you didn't expect him to look that good. And you certainly did not expect his dick print to be on display like that. You had endured three tortuous weeks of no sex because he'd been away spending time with his two kids he shared with his ex-wife. So you were excited to have him back, and judging from that not-so-little bulge between his legs, he was excited to see you too. You could all but see it, that long, thick brown cock that time and again wreaked the unholiest of havoc in you, protruding against the cotton material and calling for your attention. But the man had the gall to play hard to get, deliberately spurning your advances, acting all platonic and professional, like the rest of his team didn't already know you were lovers. Never one to back down, you ramped up your actions, rubbing his inner thigh throughout the flight and on the ride to Field House, brushing your body against him every chance you got, teasing him right back, trying to get him to crack. As soon as he ordered everyone out of his locker room just minutes after arriving, you knew you succeeded.

Roman planted wet kisses along the side of your neck, the soft prickles of his thick beard unleashing another flood between your legs. His hulking body stretched over yours, his sweatpants rolled down to just underneath the curve of his ass cheeks for the purpose of this quickie. He was so hard inside you, demanding your pleasure as he impaled you with no mercy, his tempo hot and frenetic from the very start. His big hand slipped from your breast downwards to twirl his fingertips around your clit, your throaty whines music to his ears as your sweet moisture pooled around his fingers. The squelching noise pierced the air that was already thickened by your heavy breaths and his hips smacking into yours.

"Mmm, wet as fuck, just the way I like it," Roman grunted, leaning down to suckle on your left nipple, his saliva smearing the puckered skin when he released it with a wet pop, "I can tell you was goin' crazy without this dick, right, baby?"

"Yes, and yet your punk ass still ignored me all day, too fuckin' busy making your damn TikTok videos," you griped.

"Quit your whining, Daddy always gives you what you want in the end. Unh, how you feel so good all the time? I love it," he moaned, his brown irises rolling back briefly before they landed on yours again in an intense stare. Through the lustful haze of passion, you felt your heart thumping rapidly inside your chest as you looked into his eyes. It didn't matter if you were having sex or not; it always sped up in his mere presence.

You fell in love with him not long after you became his personal assistant a year and a half ago. You worked hard to please him, on the job and off it, and he showed you his gratitude in a plethora of ways, carnal and otherwise. You were a walking cliché, but you couldn't care less, not when it bagged you a man like that. The sex appeal oozed from his pores. He was confident and self-assured and had worked his ass off to get to where he was today. He got along with all of his team, was a decent and fair employer, and was generous to a fault, showering his staff with presents on birthdays and Christmases. The diamond pendant he gifted you for Valentine's Day currently hid between your cleavage he was kneading with his big hands. He was everything you could ask for in a boss and a boyfriend, which was honestly an impressive feat.

You placed one hand behind his neck and tugged him down to flick your tongue inside his warm mouth. His thrusts remained indulgent as you kissed hungrily, branding you, marking you, wiping out everything from your mind except the euphoric feeling that engulfed you every time he kissed and fucked you dumb. He pushed your dress further up your waist and gathered your supple ass cheek in his competent hand, lifting you right up against him. He was all up in your stomach and your walls suckled his cock greedily, holding him in a vice-like grip. The gruff yet sensual sounds pouring from him teased your core, making you need more of it, more of him.

"Awww, shit, yes," Your eyes fluttered shut when he began to wind his hips, circling clockwise and then in reverse, the head of his cock churning your sweet spot, his triumphant growl accompanying every thrust. In and out, in and out, the erotic loop punctuated by the low, husky groans of your Tribal Chief, causing your head to rock back from blinding bliss. "Ooooh baby, baby right there, ahh," you whimpered.

"Uh huh, I'm deep in that shit. Got this pussy feelin' good, huh?" Roman said, his haughty taunts disappearing in another moan as your pussy rippled around his dick over and over. He kept up his grinding strokes which seemed to intensify the throatier and more desperate your moans grew, as though the mere sound of them fueled his ruthlessness. His paw curled around your throat, his display of dominance leaving you a sopping, dripping mess as he made you take every inch of him. You were dizzy, on the verge of falling apart, and your body burned for release, yet all you could do was hold on while this man continued to destroy you, rendering you helpless and pathetic and under his heady spell.

"I'm gonna come, Daddy," you gasped. Your fingernails clawed at his forearm holding your neck, moaning his name as he fucked you harder, making sure there was no way you would last long with the kind of pounding he was giving you right now.

"Mmm-hmm, come on my dick, give it to me," he ordered, barely hanging on himself. He groaned as your pussy walls held his cock hostage, making him swell inside you as his climax beckoned. "Fuck, babe, ahhh, fuck..."

Burying your face in his broad chest, you barely kept your scream muffled as your orgasm tore through you, your body arching, legs trembling around his waist as you came hard. Time and space and coherence blurred into one sensual puddle. His heavy weight almost smothered you as he chased his own orgasm, his eyes glazing over in a telltale sign that he was right there with you. His hips jerked as his dick began to throb and twitch inside you, and you gasped at the feel of his seed spilling inside your walls, his big body shivering from the force of his release, his deep voice exhaling guttural moans as he succumbed to you. It felt so good, feeling him fall with you, toppling over the precipice of pleasure together.

After he finally caught his breath, Roman shifted back a bit to observe you, taking in your face, flushed with satisfaction, your lips plumped and ravaged by his own. You looked damn beautiful, and he showed you by brushing your mouths together in the gentlest, sweetest kisses.

"Happy now?" he smirked.

You grinned from ear to ear. "Very happy, Daddy. I've missed you. Love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," he replied with one last soft kiss, both of you moaning as his drained dick slipped out of your warm confines. You dragged yourself to a seated position when he climbed off you and hurriedly tugged his pants back up. Adjusting your dress, you checked your watch and sighed. "Great, you're two minutes behind schedule. You're not even mic'd up yet," you said, fishing out Roman's bottle of Jean-Paul Gaultier cologne from his backpack and giving the room a few quick spritzes to stifle the cloying scent of your latest sexscapade.

"Well, Pat's gonna have to wait," he answered flippantly as he raked his hair back into its trademark bun. He watched you reach for your underwear that had tangled around your foot and beat you to the punch, snatching up the tiny scrap of lingerie and tucking it into his back pocket.

"Roman!" you exclaimed.

"What? It's mine now," he declared, grabbing his gold championship belt and standing to his full height. You bit your lip as you drank him in, your gaze stopping between his sturdy thighs. You just had sex but you found yourself getting aroused again.

"Your dick print is still showing," you pointed out, licking your lips reflexively.

"Course it is, I got that thang on me," he bragged, smoothing his big hand over his groin, his body tingling from the memory of your delicious warmth. Noticing the heat in your eyes, he smiled that suggestive half-smile of his and tapped your backside. "Down, baby girl, Daddy's gotta go to work. You can have me all you want after TV tonight."

As you followed him out of the locker room and stepped into the cold sunshine, you caught the slightly pronounced limp in your man's walk, his glowing, kiss-swollen features, the extra width in his smile, and beamed with pride.

Yeah, I did that shit.

THE END

--------------

Another short one. Thoughts?

I have a few more Roman ones I'm working on and hope to get out soon.

Thank you all so much for reading!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

TAGGING: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for putting a hit out on an ex friend’s dnd character?

A few years ago I [M 18] was the link between two different online friend circles along with my longtime friend A [M 22]. Essentially, both A and I ran two different dnd campaigns that acted as a melting pot between our two friend groups. It was really fun, super casual stuff. Enter C [M 19], who was originally one of my friends and played in both groups. Over time it became clear that C was, to put it lightly, not a great person. At the time, I was a really new DM and struggled a lot with my self confidence. C was a super disruptive player in my group, going off the rails and generally trying to undermine both me and other players. I tried to sort it out between sessions, but it didn’t end up working out. It came to a head where I ended up shutting down my campaign, claiming school got to be too much, but in reality I just couldn’t deal with C’s behaviour. It was a really big blow to my self confidence at the time.

At this point a lot of people had been cutting out C for various other things like this - generally being disrespectful and callous, not taking responsibility for harm he caused, etc. Pretty soon the only times I was interacting with C directly was during A’s campaign.

A, who wasn’t 100% aware of the situation, came and talked to me after a session one day about why I’d shut down my campaign, and I told him everything about how I was feeling. He was really understanding, and said that he got the feeling that I probably didn’t want C around anymore, and neither did he. I agreed, so A offered to ‘sort out some stuff with C’s character’ and shuffle him out of the group. I made a joke about wanting C’s character to die, in a pretty flippant way, and the conversation diverted.

This is where things get kind of weird.

So, at the time, I was expecting A to just talk with C and kick him out of the group in between sessions, but that didn’t end up happening. C was at the next session just as planned, and continued to show up for several weeks. During this time A, and I really don’t know how else to describe this, pulled some Machiavellian scheme on C’s character as the DM to ruin his life. A wove in this story where C’s character got this evil mask shard of a dead god, and played on C’s want to sabotage other players & go his own way in a very ‘lone rogue’ way to isolate him from the group and get him involved in all these evil deeds (killing minor npcs, etc). None of our characters knew about this in character, but A dropped all these hints and the context lined up to make it seem like C’s character was slowly going insane. C, unable to communicate in or out of character, backed up this idea by refusing to talk about the god IC or OOC. Eventually this god fragment lead to the death of C’s character when an overpowered assassin struck him down, in a fight that felt very ‘well this could’ve been a party boss but because you didn’t tell anyone, you died’. Immediately following this the party found out about C’s character’s evil deeds, meaning he wouldn’t be mourned by the party. The whole death felt so… hollow. It really felt like C had ended up in this situation because of their own hubris. But they hadn’t.

A had masterminded the whole thing. He’d given me live updates about his plan to essentially manufacture a situation where C’s character died a miserable death that felt totally deserved in the eyes of the other party members. And then we all just blocked C anyway???

I’ve never seen someone manipulate somebody like that in my life before and I’ve never seen anything like it again. I’ve never told anyone else in the group that the death was masterminded by A because of my petty grudge about my failed campaign. I don’t speak to either A or C now but I still feel bad about not doing something. Should I have just told A to kick C way before this?? I had no clue it would spiral into actual months of chess mastering his demise!!

What are these acronyms?

[futureman]

you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose. 

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy. 

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas. 

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time. 

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it? 

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.  

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face. 

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here. 

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple. 

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion. 

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember. 

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.  

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly. 

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate. 

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now." 

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day. 

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season. 

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too. 

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project. 

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment. 

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television. 

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation. 

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look. 

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction. 

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing. 

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest. 

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?" 

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors. 

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book. 

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you. 

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. 

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[alonetimelover]

pairing: Harry Styles x physicist!reader

summary: NYC is welcoming one of the most famous physicist and things seem to look great. More physics in pop terms and more of the sweet couple. For some time.

a/n: part 2 of physicist! reader. im so excited for you guys to read it! again i am sorry if i butchered physics in here - i hope my notes were correct...

@celesteblack08

masterlist

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by scienceandharstyles, hArrysbtch and 34 302 others

harryupdates HARRY spotted in NYC today!

view all 3 492 comments

hArrysbtch he didn't listen to Europe's prays, he can't leave America

harrysmoustache oh ive missed my husband SO MUCH

harrysmylife harries come on, what is his lockscreen?

⤷ hArrysbtch it looks like a building or something

⤷ harrysfan44 i think it's some old building, i posted the screenshot

⤷ scienceandharstyles it's one of the buildings on the Oxfords campus! Dr ysn has her lectures there

⤷ hArrysbtch so im assuming he has dr yn in front of that building, you can see a head on that lockscreen 😭

scienceandharstyles he can be there with Dr ysn! she said she had some open lectures in US!

⤷ harrysfan87 yes! imattending her lecture at NYU tomorrow! i can't wait

⤷ harrysfan33 and in three days she has a lecture with physics students at Colombia University!

meetcutesnyc 👀👀

⤷ hArrysbtch ohhhh, you know something

——————————————————————————————

harrynyc

liked by harryupdates, harrysmoustache and 22 301 others

harrynyc I SAW HARRY AND YN TALKING WITH THE METTCUTESNYC GUY TODAY! and then dr yn snapped this photo for me 🫠

view all 3 202 comments

harryupdates oh im following that account immediately!!!

hArrysbtch harry answering questions about his relationship??? it can't be...

⤷ harrysmoustache maybe he finally feels comfortable

⤷ user48 I hope she isn't forcing him to

⤷ hArrysbtch he's a grown-up man, ha can make his own decisions

——————————————————————————————

TikTok

The video started with a grey pavement and part of the road visible on the screen and two pairs of sneakers approaching the cameraman. Hard-core fans of Harry would recognise those pairs of shoes plus legs wherever they would see them, they couldn’t be mistaken. The colours of them were unmistakable, taking away the need to be rather invisible. Sneakers pacing right next to Harry were just as funky as his, but in more pastel shades. They were slightly unfamiliar to the fans, but considering the account posting the video could mean the only one person - Dr YN YSN. 

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you,” started the voice behind the camera. “Are you a couple?”

Now, the camera was showing both of the faces. Harry’s partially covered by the navy hat and big sunglasses, and YN’s with a huge smile on her face. They both were wearing cosy outfits. A pair of Pleasing hoodies, shorts and high, white socks.

They both were interrupted mid-laughing. Harry slightly but seemingly tensed at the abrupt question thrown at him on the street of NYC, but immediately calmed down at YN’s hand squeezing his lovingly. He wanted to politely move forward, saying something like ‘yes, we are, but sorry we are expected somewhere near soon.’ But YN, his sweet YN, loved meeting and talking with new people. And he loved her for that. 

“Hi! Yes, yes we are,” she answered with a smile, but just like Harry - didn’t stop walking towards their destination. 

“Would you mind telling me a story of how you guys first met?” 

“Oh, I know you guys!” YN exclaimed. “You’re the ‘meet cutes’ account on Instagram, right?” 

YN stopped in her tracks, making Harry take a step back to join her. 

“Yes, we are!”

“I love those videos. They are so sweet. Remember the one I showed you with that elderly couple?” With the last sentence YN turned to her boyfriend, a big smile on her face. 

Harry nodded his head, mimicking her smile. There was no day when he could look at her without breaking a smile. She was such a ray of sunshine that shone over him and to him from the moment he first saw her. 

“Go ahead,” Harry whispered to YN. “If you want to answer some of the questions, I’m okay with it. I know how much you love those videos.” He encouraged her. 

YN looked at Harry longingly and with love spelled in her gaze. It wasn’t like he said that only for her happiness. They did talk about their public appearances, PDA, articles, her career, his career, fans, students, colleagues, professors. They talked about everything and came to the conclusion that those were their lives. Nobody should have decided for what they should and shouldn’t. It was their decision. 

That was how they decided that they would talk with YN’s dean and ask for permission for Harry to be on campus. Of course, it was granted - YN being one of the best researchers and the best lecturer at Oxford, and Harry being dean’s daughter's idol since his One Direction days. It just worked in their favour and as long as he wasn’t distracting students AND staff (including YN) it was very much okay for him to be there. Then they talked with Jeff (after YN insisted on it, ‘he is managing your career, Harry. Of course we should talk with him,’ she said one day). He obviously was happy for Harry, teasing him for the duration of their meeting, asking to be the best man at their wedding ‘after all I am the one who planted a seed of curiosity in that imbecile’s head’. 

“How did we first meet? Well, in person it was at our mutual friend's party, he introduced us to each other and the rest would be history.” She smiled at the end, gazing for a moment at Harry then back at the man, who asked the question. 

“In person? Was there any other occasion?” 

YN laughed and bumped her hip at Harry’s. “For me, the party was the very first time meeting him. I mean, my students talked about this lovely man all the time. I heard about him, I listened to his music. But the first time was at that party.”

“Have you met your partner earlier?” The question was directed to Harry. 

“Not met, no. But my friend actually sent me a link to a video where she called me a God particle. I couldn’t let that slide and looked for her wherever I went,” Harry answered, face turned towards the interviewer but his eyes were on YN, looking at her beautiful smile. 

“What were your first thoughts after meeting or seeing each other for the first time?” 

YN sighed, “you go first. You’re better with words.” 

“Uhm, after seeing that video I thought ‘how did she make physics seem so easy?’ and then ‘I’d love to see more of her.’ Just the way her passion for science beamed through the screen made me infatuated,” Harry longed. “Even though I'm very bad at understanding science.”

“But you’re learning!” YN interrupted him. “You now understand aspects that I teach, it’s very impressive.” 

“Thank you, love. Uhm, but when I first saw her in real life I thought that ‘I need to talk to her. I need to ask about that God particle and how much of a responsibility of being one is upon my shoulders’.” 

YN laughed, throwing her head back slightly. She loved when he was talking about that night. 

“What about you?”

“When our friend introduced us I greeted Harry with the thing that I firstly thought, ‘I've never thought I’d meet the God particle.’ And thankfully he laughed and it seemed to work for us.” YN explained with a smirk. 

“Now, could you tell me what is your favourite thing about each other?” 

“Her passion," Harry answered immediately, not giving YN a chance to do it first. "Or either wanting to learn and understand more and to teach others about what she loves. Watching her take time to help her students, staying after hours and grading all those papers, being the inspiration to others, to me - to be better and share my passion and knowledge with others. Yeah, that’s my favourite thing.” 

For his whole speech, YN was looking at her lover’s eyes trying to find that gleam that usually made her feel present and conscious in this fast paced world. 

“You’re gonna make my cry! No!” 

She hugged him, hiding her face in his hoodie. Harry embraced her body tightly, kissing the side of her head, murmuring ‘I’m sorry” and ‘I love you’. 

After a few moments for YN to calm down, she stood straight next to him (one arm around his waist, wanting to be close to him), taking a few breaths in. 

“My favourite thing about Harry is how deeply he cares and loves people close to him. It’s one thing being loved by him and a very much different thing seeing how his love is absorbed by his family. The way he showers them in so many different aspects of love is astonishing. It’s from mundane things like doing groceries to him driving to your house at night because you needed someone to talk to. I just love how he loves people in a poetic but human way.”

While watching that video people could tell how much those two loved and cared for each other. The way they looked lovingly at the other while they were talking said much more than a thousand words could describe. 

“Final question, what do you look for in the future?” 

“Woah, hard question,” YN started, placing her finger under her chin in a deep thought. “I think I look forward to spending more time with this guy. You know, just sitting at home and being around each other, sipping tea, holding cats and just being close.” 

“Seeing her happy with who she is makes me the happiest. So I’d love to see that for as long as it lasts,” said Harry squeezing YN closer to him. 

“Thank you guys, so much. What are your names?”

After Harry pointed at YN to tell it first, she introduced Harry and then herself with a little smile present on her sun kissed face. 

“It was very nice talking to you. You really made my day. Thank you!” She said and went to squeeze the interviewer's hand. 

“My pleasure. My sister became science obsessed because of the videos of you teaching. She’s 10 but started reading books about Physics for highschoolers,” said the man. 

YN pouted, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. 

“No way! That is so sweet! I’ve read some of the books about physics for younger kids. I’ll look over my library and just DM it to this account? Would that be okay? I’m sorry but I just love hearing about younger people being excited about science,” YN stumbled a little over her words, getting too eager about the subject. 

“Yes. She would love it.” 

“Fantastic. Have a good day!” 

“Nice talking to you, mate,” Harry said, shaking the guy's hand. 

While the camera was filming the couple walking away hand in hand, the voice could be heard from behind it, “that was the most nerve wracking interview I've ever done. But they were so cool.” 

meetcutesnyc Physics connects people

my parents!!!!!!!

i can't believe that you bumped into them

'at our friend's party' is a nice way of saying that CHRISTOPHER NOLAN introduced you to each other

passion? being the inspiration? dr yn ysn is the IT girl

'i love how he loves people' 🫠🫠🫠

just the way he looks at her... he may think we do not see his eyes behind those glasses but i did... I did and there was a BIG NEON SIGN SAYING I LOVE YOU

you can see how much they love each other

——————————————————————————————

nyuniversity

liked by yourinstagram and 3 402 others

nyunicersity Because of the interest of Dr YN YSN open lecture, we are moving it to our main lecture room! There might still be some space for you! Come and learn with the infamous Dr YN YSN.

view all 293 comments

yourinstagram Everyone is welcome!

harrystyles ❤️❤️

harrynyc Can't wait to attend it!

harrysfan44 finally the lecture I am wiling to attend!

——————————————————————————————

harrysfan44

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 25 302 others

harrysfan44 Dr YN YSN at the beginning of the lecture. Later she did not stand behind the pulpit. She was walking around asking people if they understood everything, she answered questions. That was the best lecture I've ever attended. Now I understand the hype!

view all 2 492 comments

harryupdates she is the best!

hArrysbtch I just love the person streaming this after dr yn ysn said it was okay to film her because she knows that a lot of people weren't let in the room

⤷ harrysfan44 yes! she even argued with our Dean to let people in if they were okay with sitting on additional chairs and the floor. she just wanted everyone to be included!

user34 was there any topic explained in pop terms??

⤷ hArrysbtch yes! she explained the moment of inertia using music idols and dispersion was based on One Direction breaking up

⤷ user34 what?! really?

——————————————————————————————

TikTok

“Okay, so anyone knows anything about dispersion?” Dr YN YSN asked the full to the brim lecture hall. 

“Yeah, it’s a rainbow?” Answered one of the students. 

“Well, not exactly. Dispersion is the dependence of the refractive index of the centre of the frequency of the light wave in the centre. One of the effects of the dispersion is the fact that the light of different wavelengths so different taint, dropping on the line of two centres at the angle different than zero, refracts at different angles. You can observe that when the white light is being refracted on prisms giving you the beautiful rainbow. All in all, what is the most important. Rainbow is not dispersion. Rainbow is the effect of dispersion,” YN explained quickly the topic, drawing on the blackboard the prisms and various colours. “Do you understand?”

The lecture room was silent. Strangely silent which made Dr YSN turn around quickly and take a look all over the room. 

“Okay. What is not clear. Dispersion or prisms?” 

“Prisms,” was said by most of the people. 

“Yeah, they’ve just had a test on dispersion and failed on explaining the effects of it,” commented in rather rude tone one of the professors, causing Dr YN YSN to raise her eyebrows. 

“Okay. Ehm, another chance to make you understand. Give me a band I can work with right now to explain it. Don’t be shy, you can scream it to me, don’t hold your hand up. I want to hear the answer.” 

After a moment of whispers bouncing off the walls, one brave student spoke up, “what about One Direction?”

Dr YN YSN smiled and blushed slightly, looking momentarily at her left, right where Harry was sitting. 

“I see what you guys are doing. I’ll work with the thing you gave me. Alright. Uhm, connections. White light is the band. One Direction, right? Right.” Dr YSN started with drawing the prism and one simple white line almost touching the border of the triangle. “Here we have their path together, right? No obstacles, they shine together. But then boom!” She aggressively drew the line towards the border, touching it. “2015 happened. They met the obstacle, the 18 month hiatus, isn’t that right?” 

She turned around with a smile, making a room laugh and sneaking a glance at Harry who was putting his head in his hands. 

“Okay. So when they met that 2015 it was their line of two borders, border one saying ‘stay together’ and border two saying ‘it’s time to move on’." She touched the spaces on the board to visualize what was being said.

"As white light reacts, it cannot have the same opinion which in our case is the angle of the way the light is dropping. So, it bounces off in different directions, becoming different colours. All in all. They were all one name, yes? White light equals one direction. After meeting the obstacle - 2015, so line of two centres -  they are given different names - now blue, red, yellow, green, purple and so on. Do we understand it better now?” 

DR YSN once more turned towards the room, leaving the drawing of the prisms behind her. 

“We do.”

“Yeah, but that connection was uncalled for,” someone commented, making people laugh. 

“Well, you were the one asking for One Direction. I gave you what you wanted,” YN laughed. “Alright, any more questions?”

she is the moment

i love that woman with my whole heart

she is beautiful, she is successful, she is smart, she bagged one of the sexiest man alive ICON

she is the icon, the legend, and she is the moment

another time I understand physics only because of Dr yn ysn and not my professors - but really covering the hiatus was uncalled for

thank you, Dr ysn!!!!

the way she smirked at Harry when commenting on the 2015 fiasco? Icon behaviour right there!

——————————————————————————————

drynysn

liked by harrystyles, scienceandharstyles and 201 201 others

drynysn Thank you to everyone who attended the lecture at NYU! It was amazing to see you all there! I cannot stress enough how unfortunate it was that some of you were not let into the room. I spoke up with the Dean, and we agreed on one more open lecture being held in two days. So if you still want to hear some cool facts about physics, cosmos, and more, come! I will be waiting and fighting for you to be let in!

ps. isn't it the coolest library?

ps2. This is the new account I will be using to post some little videos explaining some of the concepts in physics!

view all 17 301 comments

harrystyles There is a beautiful woman covering some of the bookshelves. I am too mesmerised.

⤷ yourinstagram you cheeky 🫠

scienceandharstyles this is the best way to get into young people's hearts!

harryupdates I loved the stream! I understand so much and learn even more. Amazing as always!

hArrysbtch the way she was fighting the old man to let people in??? iconic behaviour!

harrysmoustache the impact this woman has! this account already has more than 500k followers!!!

⤷ yourinstagram it's craaaazzzy

⤷ drynysn wrong account... but it is crazy

⤷ hArrysbtch I LOVE HER

——————————————————————————————

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates and 5 302 391 others

harrystyles NYC 2023

view all 453 291 comments

yourinstagram Your support is all I need ❤️

harryupdates I lived to the day that Harry Styles posted a photo with his girlfriend

hArrysbtch yeah yeah yeah, you are in love (I am crying)

harrymylove NYC is looking god on you guys

annetwist Congratualtions you guys!

⤷ yourinstagram Annie! Thank you, xx

⤷ hArrysbtch what did harry do?

⤷ annetwist He's my son.

⤷harrystyles Thank you, mum ☺️

——————————————————————————————

drynysn

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 1 029 291 others

drynysn Hello! Here are even more physics answers to questions you might have had throughout your whole life. Hope you enjoy it because I loved answering those!

view all 283 492 comments

harrystyles Still no god particle, disappointing

⤷ drynysn Criticism accepted.

⤷ harrystyles Will there be a part 3?

⤷ drynysn Maybe. But still no Higgs boson.

hArrysbtch this is what I needed just before my classes

harrysmoustache she's doing her makeup and explaining quantum physics... she really is amazing

scienceandharstyles I will miss those lectures after graduating 😭

wired Oh, this is one of our best videos!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 34 291 others

harryupdates HARRY AND DR YN YSN spotted in Oxford today!

view all 1 930 comments

hArrysbtch they are back!!!!!

harrysmoustache dr ysn has tattoos???

⤷ scienceandharstyles yes! she has multiple!

⤷ harrysmoustache she is even cooler, oh god

harrylondonboy it's a nice time of the year to take a trip to Oxford and bump into them

harrysfan39 the holding hands, the outfits, the camera???

——————————————————————————————

celebrityupdates

liked by user34, hater37 and 684 302 others

celebrityupdates Is this the kind of pictures that the professor of one of the most prestigious universities in the world should pose for? This and more pictures of Harry Styles and Dr YN YSN are on our website, link in bio.

view all 492 201 comments

harryupdates this is so sick and twisted, you should find some good lawyers

hArrysbtch you little bitches, this is invasion of privacy

harrysmoustache I remember the case similar to this, and the couple went to court and won. so prepare some money

harrysmylife fuck you, disgusting pigs

user47 absolutely not kind of pictures I'd think this good of a professor is part of!

user93 I don't like the picture (considering the role she has in young people's lives), and I don't like invasion of privacy.

harrysfan192 will that mean she'll get fired?

⤷ hArrysbtch they would be crazy if they even thought about it!

⤷ user92 there are different laws in different universities but I think they could do it

——————————————————————————————

a/n: do we live it as a mystery or should i start preparing part 3?

[earlgreytea68]

LOOK AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT SO MUCH FOR (TOUR) DUST SPOILERS, OKAY?

~~~

~~~

~~~

Set list:

(1) That Pink Seashell spoken word thing actually opens the show

(2) Love from the Other Side: I assumed they'd play this first, and they did, and they looked very happy with the reception that it got

(3) The Phoenix

(4) Sugar, We're Goin Down: I overheard two guys when I was leaving saying, "I only came to this show for that Sugar song, and it was the third song they played," whatever to those two guys lol

(5) Uma Thurman

(6) A Litttle Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

(7) Chicago Is So Two Years Ago: I know they always play this song when they play Chicago but the way the show is set up, there's this spoken intro that references a light being left on in Chicago, and then they launch into this song, and so I feel like maybe it's permanently in the set list for this tour, we'll see.

(8) Grand Theft Autumn: Patrick told the story again of how he wrote the lyrics while jogging with Pete. Here is exactly what he said, because I recorded it, hahaha: "I wrote this song out here, jogging, trying to figure out the words. This was back when I wrote a lot of the words. And Pete was jogging with me and he was like, 'Eh, maybe change this, maybe change this.' Before we knew it he was writing all the lyrics." And then Pete said, "Imagine us jogging" lolololol

(9) Calm Before the Storm

(10) This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race: They added a little Peterick-y moment in here? I don't remember them playing at each other during this song in previous performances? It was cute, it was during the instrumental part before Patrick leads the singalong, maybe I've just always missed it? They played it each other and kind of did some kind of kick thing with their legs??

(11) Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes: Honestly, always a delight to hear this song, this is one of my favorites <3

(12) Heaven, Iowa: THIS SONG LIVE, I SWEAR

(13) "The Take Over, the Breaks Over": OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SONG AND I TOTALLY DIDN'T EXPECT THEM TO PLAY IT, I WAS SO HAPPY

(14) Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet: <3 Guess they got over being scared of playing this one lol

(15) Fake Out: I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW EXCITED I WAS THAT THEY PLAYED THIS ONE OMGGGGGGG. Also, there was some plan I wasn't aware of to, like, hold up cell phones with pink paper over the lights so the crowd lit up pink???? I have no idea who engineered that but it was CHARMING and at the end of the song Pete said, "Thanks for that, guys, that was beautiful," and the stage was on darkness so it seemed absolutely spontaneous on his part and I think they really did like the effect, so, Idk, future shows, keep doing it????

(16) Patrick did some kind of piano interlude where he played "Don't Stop Believin'"????? It was random but he was super charming, I think the rest of the band used it as a break, it was just SO GREAT. Part of his intro was: "Pete was putting together this show and he said to me, 'Hey, you should play piano.' And I was like, 'I kinda only play songs I wrote. I don't really play piano. I don't know how to play piano.' And he's like, 'Eh, you'll figure it out.'" And then Patrick sat down and played gorgeous piano ugh THANKS, PETE.

(17) Last of the Real Ones: I am glad Mania got some love.

(18) Save Rock and Roll

(19) PETE RECITED BABY ANNIHILATION WHAT. I SWEAR TO GOD. I SO DID NOT EXPECT THIS AND I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE THAT IT HAPPENED. If you're going to the show, pay attention, because I looked away and apparently there's, like, a magic trick at the end of the monologue where he disappears behind a piece of black silk?????

(20) Crazy Train cover: I...don't know what to say about this randomness hahaha but it happened??

(21) Dance Dance

(22) Hold Me Like a Grudge: I think Patrick adores singing this song, I really do.

(23) G.I.N.A.S.F.S.: I KNOW. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, EITHER.

(24) My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up)

(25) Thnks fr th Mmrs

(26) Centuries

(27) Saturday <3

The show ends with a little piano version of So Much (for) Stardust played over the sound system, so pay attention for that.

The set is super Alice in Wonderland-y and I adored it, it's playful and fantastical and has all these whimsical touches and interludes and I just thought it was delightful and at one point there were bubbles, and I heard some people complaining after the concert that the fantasy thing didn't suit their style of music and really, I was surrounded by downers after the concert, I thought they were perfect hahaha. Like, ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. They looked so, so, so tangibly happy, all of them. Patrick sounded fantastic and he looked like he was having a blast, he smiled the whole time.

I have a lot of videos but they seem like they're all pretty terrible, but I'll see how I feel in the morning lol

[moonpetrichors-blog]

can i request for enemies to lovers for neteyam ?? love ur work sm !!

First Impressions

Tags: Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader, Heacanons, Enemies To Lovers, Female!Reader, Anguished Declarations of Love, Reader is Kinda Mean, Forced Proximity

Warnings: None

You are another daughter of Ronal and Tonowari. When the Sully family shows up on your shores, you immediately dislike their eldest son; Neteyam.

Tysm ♥♥ Lucky for you, this was already in a list of things I wanted to write!! Great minds think alike fr 🤝🙄

* ˚ ✦ Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [26/12/22] ❞

He was like no one else you had seen before.

He was a boy from the Omaticaya clan, a foreign stranger who had no business to be seeking refuge on your beaches.

After all, he was clearly suited for swinging in trees, not swimming.

You had heard of the fabled Jake Sully; the Toruk Makto, and as of right now, referred to as a great warrior by none other than Neytiri.

They had travelled a far distance to seek shelter with your people, so that their clan could be safe.

You were against allowing him and his family to hide within the Awa'atlu village. Danger would follow them, and they did not fit in with your people nor the environment.

Alas, you had no power to defy the orders of your father, Tonowari, as he was the Olo'eyktan.

Imagine your surprise when your father, not only simply allowing them to stay, also expected you and your siblings to teach them your ways.

You groaned at the thought, not wanting to spend time with these people or their children.

After their initial introduction, their eldest son Neteyam attempted to get to know you.

However, his kind demeanor towards you quickly turned sour when you made it transparently clear you wanted nothing to do with him.

‘The hell is wrong with you?’ is what Neteyam would think.

You both would want to avoid each other, but unfortunately, that’s not really possible.

He does try to be civil when he can, though. Neteyam has a backbone and won’t let anyone walk all over him, but he’s not like Lo’ak where he’ll freely start fights.

His father warned not to cause problems, and he doesn’t want him to be disappointed in him.

Your sister Tsireya had taken a liking to the younger son, Lo’ak, which meant you were stuck with teaching Neteyam.

So here you were with Tsireya, teaching the two brothers breathing exercises.

You were getting frustrated with Neteyam. His breathing wasn’t on par with your expectations, and time and time again you would smack him (lightly, of course) if he wasn’t doing it right.

“Here, do it like this!” frustrated, you placed your hands on his chest and abdomen. “Breathe like this!”

You took deep breaths through the diaphragm, then gestured your head for Neteyam to do it next.

Well, he wasn’t breathing through his chest anymore, but his heart was definitely going a mile a minute with you being so hands-on with him.

Just when you thought he was finally getting the hang of it, he smacked your hands off of him and said he can do it himself.

You tsked, and decided that if he wants to drown, he can. “Whatever, asshole.”

The next thing you tried to teach him about was riding the ilu and performing tsaheylu with it.

You honestly weren’t expecting much from him, you knew that it would take awhile before he could actually do so.

And you were right. The moment he started gliding underwater, he was thrown off the ilu’s back.

You remained in place treading the water, bursting into laughter at his falling form. This guy really doesn’t know what he’s doing 💀

When Neteyam meets with you again, his face is red with embarrassment. You can’t contain your laughter, and he has to remind himself to stay calm and not yell in a fit of rage.

A few days pass, and Tsireya and Aonung decide to go swimming with Kiri, Lo’ak, and Neteyam.

Tsireya urged for you to come along, and you agreed, because how could you say no to your sister?

As you are swimming, you have to slow down for Neteyam. You were quite irate with the fact that he couldn’t keep up, trading looks with Aonung occasionally.

As you kept swimming, Neteyam was in awe with the underwater scenery. 

The schools of fish, bright coral, and the way the light refracted in the ocean made him amazed. He couldn’t believe that he had never seen something so beautiful before.

And then, he looked at you.

The scenery really tied everything together; being surrounded by a vast, blue world, you were like the centerpiece of an artfully woven painting.

It was in this moment that Neteyam really took in your beauty. He thought you were pretty since the first time he laid eyes on you.

But of course, you didn’t like him, so he quickly picked up the memo and forgot all about those thoughts of you.

Almost.

Neteyam was so distracted from daydreaming about you, that he forgot his breathing exercises instead.

You turn around to see him flailing in the water, and start panicking because he’s literally about to drown.

You quickly swam over, wrapped your arms around his waist, and hauled him up to the surface.

You start slapping his face, shaking him by the shoulders to breathe.

He’s coughing and sputtering now, muttering a thank you.

His near-drowning experience is swiftly forgotten when he processes the fact that you basically saved him.

At this point he’s making fun of you because you came to his rescue, and Tsireya and Aonung are not too far behind him either.

Angrily, you shove his head underwater, and swim away.

Later on, when it is well over eclipse, you push a stick through the sand to make stupid drawings.

Neteyam creeps up behind you, and you almost whack him with your stick when he sits down besides you.

“The hell do you want?”

He recoils at your attitude. Neteyam wanted to properly thank you for your help earlier that day, but it seemed now that all hint of gratitude left his body.

“What’s wrong with you?” is what he ends up saying.

You promptly begin to argue. Honestly, you didn’t really have a good reason for being so mean to him all the time.

In all honesty, you did find him kind of cute at first, but worrying about the safety of your clan overpowered that more than anything.

You would never admit this though. Instead, you scoop up a handful of sand, and throw it at him.

Neteyam’s patience completely snaps. He has tried to be cordial with you in the past, but that was it.

He tackles you to the ground, and fighting between the two of you ensued.

“You’re so rude for no reason!”

“What’s it to you?”

You’re both practically yelling at this point as you wrestle on the sand.

Out of sheer anger, Neteyam did something he’s never done before. Make an impulsive decision.

In response to you, he blurted out that he likes you, but you’re such a massive asshole to him that it makes him furious!

You aren’t any smarter than him, and reply with the exact same confession.

You both paused.

Neteyam was leaning over you, hands by either side of your head. All his anger had disappeared. Was this guy smiling??

Your face flushed with embarrassment that you had actually admitted that to him. You wanted the sand beneath you to swallow you whole.

You tried to back up, but found yourself trapped between Neteyam and, well... the sand.

Your about to start yelling again when he places a featherlight kiss against your lips, and that’s when your face erupts into a violent blush.

You can’t hide your face from him, which makes him all the more amused.

“Okay, fine. I guess you’re kind of cute...” you trailed off.

He let out a toothy grin, sharp canines on display. “I always thought you were.”

Okay, now you really wanted to be six feet underground.

[harrywavycurly]

What You Deserve Part 12: Is This You?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Mentions of death

Tag List: @littlered0000 @saramelaniemoon @ali-r3n @sapphire4082 @sweetmoonlove0214 @eddies-girl-22 @darknesseddiem @peaches-roses-sins @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @daisy-munson @cultish-corner @mrsjellymunson @aol19 @micheledawn1975 @2000babies @marshmallowgem @ang3lc @angelina16torres-blog @transparentenemypenguin @alilstressyandlotdepressy @josephquinnsfreckles @plk-18

A/N: This is going to upset a lot of y’all for possibly two reasons but trust me it hurt my heart to even write it, but I still hope you enjoy✨

“So what did you think of the class?” “It was…good…nice yeah…you looked good…really uhm good…yeah…” “thank you….but I meant did you think it helped you at all?” “Oh right…yes…I did uh…learn some good stuff and I think if I took a few more classes I’d feel a little better about uhm…being home…alone more.” “Well you’re more than welcome to come to the next one or…even just a regular kick boxing class if you’re interested?” “Oh that sounds fun…uh where…are we going? This is-” “where I grew up…” “you grew up here?” “Yup…right…here actually…” “it looks nice…is that the van you’ve been working on?” “Yeah that’s her…she’s nearly done…would you like to go inside?” “Oh uhm yeah yeah…let’s go.”

“This isn’t what I was expecting the inside of this trailer to look like.” “I had it upgraded last year…but something tells me you would’ve liked the way it looked originally…” “how did it look? Not that this isn’t nice…it’s very well done whoever did it-” “I did…I didn’t want anyone else to mess with it…so I just did it when I had time….took me a while but it was worth it.” “You like doing things yourself don’t you?” “Only important things…like this…and the van…” “and Dave…you fixed him yourself.” “Well he’s pretty important isn’t he?” “I think so…but you really grew up here? Was it just you and your parents?” “Me and my dad yeah…Wayne.” “Wayne? That’s a good name for a dad…I like that name.” “It is a good name isn’t it? That’s why I named the garage after him…it felt like a name people would trust leaving their car at…he was a great mechanic…taught me everything I know.” “I agree…naming the garage Wayne’s Auto Shop was a smart choice…that’s a huge reason why I started taking Dave there.” “That makes sense…I think you and him would’ve gotten along really well.” “How long has he uhm….been gone?” “About three years…but uh feel free to take a look around…” “Okay…I have your permission to be nosey?” “Yes…open all the drawers and snoop through all the cabinets you want to sweetheart it’s fine.” “If you say so…”

“Eddie?…Eddie is this…is this you?” “Oh yeah…yeah that’s me and the Hellfire club from high school…you know a few of those kids like that’s…Dustin…and Mike…and Lucas.” “That’s cool and all but is that your hair that’s down to your shoulders?” “Yeah…I used to have long hair for a while until I got tired of wearing it up for work so I just cut it….why do you look like you want to cry?” “You had…this beautiful hair and you just chopped it off?” “I mean I can grow it out again if…you want? I just got tired of it and wanted a change that’s all.” “You’d grow it out for me? Really?” “It’s just hair sweetheart…if you want it long then sure…I’ll let it get long…where did you find this picture anyway?” “In the back bedroom…can I ask…what are we doing here?…really?” “Uh well…I know you don’t feel comfortable being alone at your house…because of William and…I wanted to show you this place because if you want…you could…move in…” “I could move in here?” “If you want? William doesn’t know this place even exists so you’d be perfectly safe…not that you aren’t safe at your house now but I just want you to feel comfortable being alone…so just know this is an option if you want it.” “This is huge Eddie I couldn’t just…move in here…this is your house.” “Baby does it look like anyone lives here?” “No but…this is where you grew up and you probably have tons of memories here and-” “I do…I have lots of great memories of living here…but I took those memories with me when I moved out a long time ago…so now you can come in and make some of your own…in a place that you feel comfortable and safe in…because I know everyone in this park so trust me…you’ll be safe here.” “I’ll think about it…” “okay…that’s totally fine take all the time you need.”

“So…this is the van huh? She’s nice…smells like weed in the back though…” “That’s probably because I used to drive this around to make drug deals at house parties and offered customers the back seat to get high in for an extra fee.” “Ah so you’ve always been a business man then?” “Oh yeah….I’ve always found a way to make a living..now I just do it legally.” “Steven told me you used to be an asshole….is that true?” “I was an angry teenager…I used to be mean to people before they got the chance to be mean to me so yeah…I was an asshole.” “I can’t imagine you being mean on purpose…” “Well good thing you didn’t know me back then sweetheart because I probably would’ve made you cry…Wayne always used to get on my ass about the way I treated girls…” “really? But you’re…you’re so…amazing?” “Now I am…because I finally became the man I was meant to be instead of the one I thought I wanted to be…” “and that’s because of Wayne?” “Yeah…we had a rough few years right before I graduated high school…I used to just yell at him and he’d stand there and take it…and then he’d just hold me while I cried and told him I was sorry…he always used to tell me he knows the man I can be if I’d only stop fighting it…so I just…stopped fighting it.” “Well thank god for Wayne because…I quite like the man you are right now…” “yeah…thank god for Wayne…ready to go sweetheart?” “Yeah…I’m ready…thanks for bringing me here Eddie.” “You’re welcome…thanks for listening.” “Anytime…I like listening to you talk about your dad and your wild high school days.”

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 22<-

Part 23

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, COMFORT

Warnings: 18+, Smut, under 18 DNI!, pet names, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Overstimulation, Jealousy, ANGST, explicit smut, confessions, fluff

Word Count: 8.1k

Note: Mh. This Part was pure therapy for me… I really hope I could make up for the last Parts and the emotional trauma I put you through. It’s unbelievable how many people are invested in my work. Thank you so much! Every comment, reblog etc motivates me to keep going.

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

You laid in your bed with your cell phone firmly in your hand, but you avoided looking at the screen as if something might jump out of it and attack you.

Your gaze had been fixed on the ceiling for some time, and you tried to think of something other than Chan and the argument. The aching in your head was by now unbearable and you wanted to stop so bad, that you thought about getting something out of the minibar. You would violate your strict no-alcohol rule on tour. But what else had any meaning at all?

After you returned from the beach, Felix had gone straight back to his room to call his family and talk about the concert they would attend tomorrow and Han had disappeared into the hotel gym with Changbin.

When you returned to your hotel room to check your notifications, you noticed the message from Chan.

It was from last night, when you were already fast asleep.

"I'm with my family. I'll see you at the show. Get some rest and watch the boys for me. ~Chan

You instantly felt shabby. He had let you know despite your argument and you had just read over it and then blamed him because you were just caught up with your anger at him.

Just his name on your screen caused such an extreme feeling of emptiness inside you that you felt sick and you missed him with your entire soul, even though you had seen him just a few hours ago. The argument and that you couldn't just go to him, talk to him only made it worse.

As soon as you saw he was online, you almost threw your phone across the room. When he called just a second after, your body was paralyzed.

You didn't manage to answer, afraid of what he might say to you.

As soon as his name disappeared from your phone again and a missed call was displayed, you kicked the blanket off yourself like a petulant child and cried out of anger.

Anger at yourself. Anger against the world.

You hadn't picked up the phone since, and the carousel of worry ran incessantly in your head.

You were absolutely dreading the show tomorrow and the only thing you wanted right now was to look Chan in the eye, feel his heartbeat and breathe in his scent.

Looking out the window, you realized that dusk would soon be setting in and the hotel room suddenly felt awfully cramped. When your head was about to burst, you dared to look at your cell phone again, but there was no message from Chan. At least not for you.

On Bubble, on the other hand, he had written a message just a few seconds after the call.

"Today Channies Room from a special place. Anyone who needs distraction too is welcome. 6pm?"

Distraction? Did that have something to do with you or were you now completely delusional?

Glancing at the clock, you scooted over to your laptop and flipped it open. The stream had been running for a few minutes and you just wanted to watch it.

After a few clicks, his face actually appeared and your heart leapt when you saw his curly hair and tired smile. He was talking to Stay and just explained that he was in his old bedroom at home now that you were finally in Australia.

He looked stunning in just a hoodie, with those mesmerizing eyes and bare face. It was unfair how someone this kind and humble could be that beautiful.

Mutely you listened to his voice and caught yourself smiling as he sheepishly responded to cute comments or joked around with fans. You loved to listen to his little stories, telling everyone about the many medals behind him, he won at swimming competitions, about his family and how his mom cried when he surprised her today.

Still, there remained a dull underlying mood that he couldn't hide. Quickly, there were also a lot of questions all over the comments asking if everything was okay with him.

He cleared his throat and propped his head on his hands before reading aloud:

"Is everything okay?"

He thought for a few seconds about the best thing to say, but his familiar surroundings and distance from JYP made him let his walls down a bit.

"To be honest, it could be better. Actually, I shouldn't be telling this at all.... I had a fight with someone I care about a lot and because I'm too stubborn to realise it in time, I really screwed up.... I did something stupid and made it worse by being emotional and even more stupid."

Immediately there was wild speculation about who he might be talking about. The names of the boys were written in the comments, but especially your name appeared more and more often.

"No, no. Not with the menbers."

That was the answer to the question. It was obvious that he meant you, because no one else was on tour with him that was so important to him. The fans knew that, and by now everyone who read the Kpop News headlines knew that.

You sat up on the bed and stared spellbound at the screen.

Chan tilted his head a little, laughed sheepishly as he always did when he wanted to disguise his true feelings, and ran his hand through his hair.

"It's just that I really regret it, but I think it might already be too late to make up for everything.... And that would be terrible."

He made a small pause and you could hear your heart dropping to the floor.

„She's so special and I would love to tell her how important she is to me. How much I love everything about her and that she deserves so much more... I did her really wrong."

He was silent for a moment obviously drifting off and then quickly shook his head as he saw the comments escalate.

His words were already conjuring up tears again, even though you thought you had none left.

A desperate whiney: „Channie", escaped your trembling lips.

Suddenly, your field of vision became blurry and you sniffled emphatically as you frantically wanted to touch him, but your fingers only met the hard surface of your screen.

"I don't know... I just don't want to lose her. She's not only smart, beautiful and talented in everything she does. She's my best friend and I can't lose that. I don't know how I would move on. I just couldn't..."

That was enough to make you jump up from the bed and search your phone for old documents. You ran the back of your hand over your face while crying like a little kid and finally you found what you were looking for.

You grabbed your denim jacket, your bag, and closed your laptop before storming out of the hotel room and stopping a cab in front of the hotel.

At your tear-stained face, the driver frowned, but took the address without asking.

With the inside camera of your cell phone you tried to get your face back under control, but even when you got out of the car half an hour later, your eyes were still red.

Wearing only shorts and a much too large rumpled shirt from Changbin, you rang the front doorbell and with a glance at the doorbell sign, you automatically smiled.

An older woman with familiar brown eyes opened and peered suspiciously through the crack first.

"Hello?"

"Good evening. I'm really sorry for the intrusion, Mrs Bang. My name is..." but that's as far as you got, as she pulled open the door and her face lit up. You bowed apologetically several times, but she was already stepping out to you. The resemblance to Chan was now unmistakable and his radiance was reflected in her smile.

"I know who you are! Y/N! Chan has talked a lot about you. I recognize you from the picture he showed. You're just more beautiful in real life," she talked away and you smiled overwhelmed.

Chan had shown his family pictures of you and even talked about you?

"Come in quick! It's nice to finally meet you," she said and shooed you into the house.

Immediately you were enveloped by pleasant smells from the kitchen and you curiously looked around the hallway of the house.

Directly you discovered Chan's shoes and his backpack on the floor.

"Thank you very much. The pleasure is all mine."

After you kicked off your shoes, she led you into the living room where Mr. Bang was sitting on an armchair and looked up as soon as you entered. The little white-brown dog that Chan kept showing you pictures of immediately scurried around your feet and sniffed at you curiously.

"This is Y/L/N Y/N!", Mrs Bang introduced you and Mr Bang raised his eyebrows. Your mere name was enough and they knew who you were. That was strange but kind of nice. You couldn't help but kneel down to the cute puppy and pet him until she wagged her tail excitedly. "Hey Berry. Nice to finally meet you," you said, giggling when she licked your cheek.

"Chris didn't say anything about his manager coming to visit," Chan‘s Dad said, and you stood up and bowed respectfully, your cheeks flushed. Chan's father exuded the same competence that he did, only he didn't radiate that warmth that everybody immediately sensed when they were around Chan. But it was obvious that he had been just as handsome as a young man.

"That's right. He doesn't know I'm here, but I really need to talk to him. This couldn't wait. I'm really sorry if I'm interrupting, Mr Bang," you apologized, but his wife waved you off and stroked your back reassuringly.

„Oh nonsense! You're just in time. We'll be eating soon. I hope you're hungry."

Then you were not mistaken and the delicious smell came from the kitchen where Mrs. Bang was cooking.

"Thank you, that's very kind," you said, feeling a gaze on you.

Turning around, you saw a young woman with dark hair, big eyes and the unmistakable features of Chan. She was leaning against the doorjamb with her arms crossed, looking at you with a mysterious smile.

"Hannah say hello, this is Chris's manager," Mrs Bang said when she saw the young woman as well. She pushed herself off the door frame and came toward you.

"I know who she is. You really are as pretty as in the videos..." she murmured, holding out her hand to you. She was your age and you wanted to meet her since Chan told you a lot about her. Actually you seemed to be very alike and it was almost like you already knew each other.

With cheeks flushed with excitement, you took her hand and smiled.

"I'm Hannah. The idiot's sister."

You nodded, and the same warmth that Chan radiated was palpable in her. But she was confident and firm, even though she was a little younger than you.

"Can I go see him? I really need to talk to him," you asked, and she leaned against the doorframe again. Her intense gaze seemed to scan you until she said:

"He's in his room. Talking to his fans."

"Thanks."

You could hardly stand it any longer. All the tension made you tremble, and you went up the stairs to where Hannah had pointed.

Outside the door you heard his voice already muffled and without thinking further you rushed into the room and as you saw Chan in front of his computer, eyes wide and a confused look on his face a sob ripped from your throat. He jumped up and ran a few steps towards you, but you had already thrown yourself at him and wrapped your arms around him. Confused, he froze and after a few seconds he returned your embrace firmly. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your body shaken with relieved sobs as you tried to be as close to him as possible.

Completely surprised, he sucked in your scent, enjoying feeling your body against his at last, holding your slim waist and wrapping his big arms around you, even if he didn't understand how you could suddenly appear at his family's house.

"Y/N what? How...?" he stammered, overwhelmed, but you only pressed yourself tighter against his chest until you were standing on tiptoe.

"I'm so sorry... so sorry," you whispered and his strong arms held you so tightly that all your fear and sadness vanished into thin air. You were with him and that was enough.

When his arms slid down your back and you loosened a little to look him in the eyes, he gulped loudly. Your eyes were bloodshot from all the crying, your lips swollen and your heart racing so he could feel it against his chest.

You were beautiful and he cupped your face with both hands, wanting to kiss every tear of yours away and never let you go again.

But then he remembered the stream again. Panicked, he looked at the screen. The chat was going crazy and the comments were popping up so fast that you couldn't read anything.

You could only be seen from the chest down and you were barely in the picture, yet it was clear who was lying there in his arms, who he was holding so tightly and he gently detached himself from you to lean in front of the camera and said:

"Okay I have to end the stream now unfortunately. I'll see you next time. Stays and Baby Stays! Big hug!"

He did his typical goodbye and as soon as he turned off the computer, he turned back to you, still unable to comprehend that you were now actually standing in his old room where he spent half his childhood.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a soft voice, coming up to you.

"I was watching the stream. Heard what you said about me. Chan I'm so sorry."

When your voice shook and he saw how tense your fingers were closed around the hem of your shirt, he quickly pulled you close, put his hands on your hips and leaned his forehead against yours.

"No... I acted like an asshole. I'm sorry, baby. It was my fault from the beginning. I should have told you about the kiss, then I would have told you straight up that it didn't mean anything because I only want to kiss you! I want you and nothing else! I am selfish and stupid. I want you to be jealous like I am when I see you with someone other than my members. I want you to want me as much as I want you..."

The words he should have said to you in the hotel, or even earlier, finally burst forth and your breath rattled as you clasped your hands in his neck.

He looked into your eyes, stroked your cheek and the contours of your face that he had missed so much, and now as you smiled with relief his heart fluttered like a wild bird in his chest.

"I do. Chan I can't go on without you. The last few hours have been hell. Why did you do that? Why did you just leave?"

The guilty conscience he had felt all along returned violently and he pulled you onto his lap as he sat down on the edge of his bed, caressing your thighs and enjoying the way your body nestled perfectly against his.

"I thought it would be best to stay away. You didn't seem like you wanted me around."

"Now I'm here..."

He laughed incredulously and ran his hands through his hair. He looked outrageously handsome in the hoodie and sweatpants, which made you bite your lips as he leaned back a bit to get a closer look at you.

"This is incredible. You're here... You're actually here! How do you even know where my family lives?"

You smiled and played with the rings on his fingers. Holding his hand tightly in yours, you intertwined his hand with yours.

"You told me a few times to send flowers to your mother."

Chan nodded slowly and smiled so brightly that you exhaled heavily.

"True... Sometimes I forget that you're my manager."

You let go of his hand, leaning forward and nuzzling his neck before lightly touching his with your lips.

"Me too..."

You both grinned, each other's breath colliding against your lips, and that's when you finally kissed him. It was like a thousand butterflies were buzzing around in your stomach and the reason for your tears was barely tangible anymore.

He pulled you back with him until he was on his back, stroking his hands under the gray shirt and caressing your skin all over, with his fingertips, while biting your bottom lip. Sighing, you nestled your body against him until your chest was pressed tightly against his, opened your lips a little and already your tongues were meeting, playing with each other, and you were lost in a whirlpool of feelings.

His warmth, the tangy smell of his perfume mixed with his own smell let everything bubble up in you.

You absorbed everything in you. His body beneath you, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you, every movement and every breath.

Pure happiness flooded you and Chan's presence enclosed you in your own world. No one could take this moment from you and as you continued to deepen the kiss, touching each other, caressing, the heat inevitably rose.

The touches became fiercer, more demanding and you felt how much he had missed you.

You didn't know how long you just laid there, kissing and touching. Your bodies intertwined as Chan let out a deep grumble and firmly grabbed your ass with both hands.

Softly you gasped out as he pressed your hips against his in such a way that you could clearly feel his hard length against your cunt through the fabric of his sweatpants.

"I missed you so fucking much," he whispered, his eyes like jet black tar, glued to you and never going to let you go.

His hair was curly, messy, his skin soft and shiny.

You loved it when he dreamily studied your features, as if nothing else mattered.

"I'm here, and I'm not leaving," you assured him, playing with the collar of his hoodie. He was wearing way too many clothes.

You longed for the warmth of his skin on yours.

"Good... You are mine. You belong to me and my members. I want you to know that I only have eyes for you. Not for that stylist or anyone else."

You smiled softly, waving it off:

"It's all good, Chan. I believe you."

You didn't want him to worry anymore. The arrangement was dangerous enough as it was. He couldn't and shouldn't commit himself or even tell a potential admirer that he was taken.

But Chan's expression turned serious. All the things you had said in the argument played over and over in his head for the last few hours like a horror movie.

Suddenly he grabbed you by the waist, turned you until you were under him and looked you so deeply in the eyes that you swallowed loudly.

"You're not just a fuck toy to me. You are so much more! You are the sun... fuck it, the whole universe to me."

He sounded desperate, like he couldn't even begin to put into words what he was feeling. His fingers moved gently across your shoulders, up your neck until they reached your cheeks. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, losing yourself in the moment. At a loss for words, the intensity in his eyes threatening to crush you, you smiled and murmured:

"Sounds like song lyrics."

Chan snorted in amusement and kissed your temple:

"You're right. I should write that down."

At that, you shook your head slightly, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him to you.

"Not now..."

He immediately returned the kiss stormily. You grew hungrier, all the tension transferred into pure energy and lust that carried you away on a cloud.

You slid your hands under his hoodie and he helped you take it off. Finally you could touch his abs, roaming your fingertips over them until he gasped and he too slid his hands inside your shorts, tight to your ass until they slid up and he could grab a handful, with the other hand he pushed the shirt up until he grabbed your chest and you groped each other greedily, floating higher and higher into desire and as you rolled your hips against his you felt how aroused he was.

"Fuck I'm so hard.... Thought about you so much," he panted against your ear, kissing your neck and kneading your chest until a loud gasp escaped you. Your body and his were so close that they melted into each other.

"Thought about your soft skin..." he whispered and sucked on your neck, pressing his dick right against your cunt.

"Your sweet scent... Fuck and your pussy. I need to fuck you so bad," he panted, grinded his hips against yours until you clenched your hands against his back.

"Channie..." you gasped, your head filled only with desire.

"Sorry to bother you, but dinner's ready if you're hungry."

Startled, you both froze and looked to the door, where Hannah stood with her arms crossed and a big grin on her face.

Chan was trying to cover you up as best he could, but you couldn't come up with a meaningful lie as to why he was lying on top of you half-naked, his hands everywhere he weren't supposed to touch his manager.

"Hannah out! Now!" he yelled at her, but she just giggled and examined you.

"It's okay. Relax. You are lucky it's just me. You guys better come. Otherwise mom will come upstairs."

With those words, she disappeared and you pressed both heels of your hands to your eyes, your head flushed.

Chan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry about that," he muttered, and when your eyes finally met, you couldn't help but laugh heartily.

Chuckling, he buried his face against your neck and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"Come on, we better not keep my parents waiting," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your stomach, then he looked up at you, eyes shining, and you felt weightless as you nodded.

As soon as you entered the kitchen, your stomach growled at the smell of the feast Mrs. Bang had prepared.

"There you are. Sit down and help yourselves before it gets cold!" she said, and you tried your best to ignore Hannah's intense gaze. You sat down, you across from Chan, next to Mr Bang and Hannah.

Once you were all seated, you tilted your head:

"Thank you for the food and the spontaneous hospitality."

Mr Bang started to eat and waved off:

"Don't mention it. We know how much you do for our Chris."

Chan smirked:

"I don't think so"

Directly your cheeks reddened treacherously as Chan was already grinning into his Miso soup.

"That's true. Chan always tells us about you. How hard you work and take care of the boys."

Your heart beat faster and Chan just stared at you with a big grin.

"That's my job and the boys are like my family now," you told them and the Bangs listened intently.

Then Hannah tilted her head:

"But you and Chris get along particularly well?"

You almost choked on the kimchi you had shoved in your mouth and Chan gave Hannah a warning look. But his parents also looked interested.

"Um... I get along with everyone really well. We live together, after all."

"How can you stand it? With eight young men?" sighed Mrs. Bang, shaking her head anxiously. You smirked a little then.

"It's exhausting sometimes, but they all always look out for me. And we work so much that it's actually rather nice when we see each other in the dorm."

Chan looked relieved and his shoulders slumped. His eyes kept wandering over your face, your body, and he wanted so much to tell his family how much he adored you. That you weren't just a valued friend and manager, but the person who gave him everything he needed.

"I hope so," Mr. Bang gave Chan a sharp look.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" asked then Hannah curiously, and Chan kicked her shin under the table, making her hiss.

"She can sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch in my room."

Chan's parents seemed pleased with that, only Hannah raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Really? I thought you guys..."

But she fell silent as Chan stared at her warningly. Your cheeks were glowing by now, and you tried to distract yourself with the omelet, which tasted impossibly good.

The silence grew more oppressive, as did the frowns of the siblings' parents, so you unceremoniously cleared your throat, drawing attention to yourself.

"We'll have to leave bright and early tomorrow. Rehearsals for the performance start at 9."

Quickly, the questioning looks turned to vehement nods.

"Oh yes!"

Mrs. Bang's face beamed.

"We're already so excited to be able to see Chris live tomorrow."

Chan smiled and you could see nervousness flash in his eyes for the first time in a long time.

"So how does it work tomorrow?" asked Mr. Bang with interest, to which you replied:

"You will be picked up by a shuttle and then taken backstage with Felix's family before the show. For the show, I've picked out the best seats for all the family members."

Excitedly, Mrs Bang laughed and Hannah smiled too. Mr Bang nodded and you looked at Chan who was looking at you with affection.

The meal took its course, there was chatter and Chan's family treated you warmly, making you feel right at home.

But you didn't miss Chan nervously wiggling his foot, clearing his throat several times when his mother didn't stop asking you questions about JYPE or about Chan and the boys.

He was impatient, couldn't bear to just look at you now after pining for you for the past few days.

He wanted to kiss your lips, touch your skin until you gasped and finally escape the scrutiny of his family.

Finally, as Mrs. Bang was about to start a new question, just as the conversation about choosing the right outfits was finishing, he slapped both palms on the table and stood up:

"That was very tasty, Mom. Thank you. But we really should get to sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

You looked down into your lap to hide the telltale grin.

After helping clean up, you said your goodbyes for the night, but before you were really out of the room, Chan grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder.

Gasping, you clawed at his back as he pressed his hands tightly against your lower legs.

"Channie! What are you doing?" you giggled as he carried you up the stairs.

"I can't stand it another second. I need you, now, under me, naked."

He opened the door and pushed it shut with his foot, then tossed you onto his bed, literally ripping the shirt off his body.

You smiled excitedly and eyed his toned stomach.

"I have some things to make up for. I acted like an idiot and I need to show you that I'm sorry."

You slowly fell onto your back as he climbed over you and the grinned meanly.

"You got that right."

He snorted and bit your neck, making you giggle.

You greedily ran your hands up his abs, over his shoulders, and his biceps hovering next to your head.

He just looked at you, his face just a hand's width away from yours, his eyes shining like a whole galaxy and his curls tempting you to touch them. You dreamily stroked your index finger down his cheeks, over his lips and to his chin. You had missed this so much and now you knew that you could never live without him again. Your heart wanted him and in the last few days you would rather die than fight with him.

"You mean the whole fucking world to me, you know that?"

His voice was raspy, honest, and your cheeks turned red.

"Stop it, Channie... You're making me blush."

You tried to hide your face in your hands, but he unceremoniously pushed them aside.

"No. I want you to know that. I never want you to doubt that I want you again! I trust you with parts of myself I'm afraid to show anyone else. And I know I'm not the only one of us there."

Your heart pounded so loudly you had to swallow. His body weight rested comfortably on yours and you returned his eye contact.

"I'm afraid of losing you. I was so afraid of hurting you so much that I lost you.... I don't deserve you after everything I've done..."

He shook his head, desperation in his eyes, and you put a hand on his chest, right over his heart, so he was looking at you.

"I'm yours. Not going anywhere."

After so long of not having togetherness, the stress and work always kept you from it, even though you lived under the same roof. That's exactly why right now, this moment was so special.

He nodded slowly, seeming to calm down. You pulled him closer until he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, buried his face against your neck, and took a deep breath. This embrace, his chest against yours, his body on top of yours was as intimate as anything you'd ever felt in your life. You stroked his soft curls, heard his soft grumble and kissed his cheek, hoping not to burst into tears with emotion.

Suddenly, Chan's cell phone rang on the nightstand. But he did not move. Didn't dare to take his arms from you. You were more important right now.

However, who would call in the middle of the night if it wasn't important?

"Chan? This must be important," you mumbled, but he just grumbled and pulled you even closer.

Sighing, you stretched and got hold of the cell phone. You recognized Changbin's name on the screen and handed it to Chan after you answered the call.

He straightened up a bit, groaned, and then put the phone to his ear.

"Yes?"

Changbin's voice sounded excited, worried.

"Y/N has disappeared. Do you know where she is? Hyunjin said she's not in her room and she's not in Felix's bed either. We searched the whole hotel, but she just left without saying anything."

Immediately you slapped your hand over your mouth. You hadn't thought of that at all when you had left in a hurry. The boys were probably worried all along.

"She's here. With me."

"Oh... Good."

Changbin sounded puzzled, yet equally relieved.

"She's with Chan," he clarified to the listeners in the background.

"All right. I'm relieved then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Chan hung up and you exhaled with a guilty conscience.

"Shit I just took off without telling them..."

Chan brushed the strands of hair from your face and kissed your lips briefly.

"It's all good. Now they know."

You smiled at the warmth in his smile and pulled him down to kiss you. Quickly the kiss grew more heated and he finally pulled your shirt over your head to look at your breasts.

"No bra huh?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, cupping one of your breasts with his large hand.

"I was in a hurry," you laughed, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer. The heat between your legs was by now unbearable and there you felt that he was also struggling with his arousal the whole time. His presence and touch felt just as you remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time.

He began kissing your neck, letting his lips brush lovingly over your skin, hissing as you rolled your hips against his.

"Fuck I was so hard the whole evening..."

You shuddered as he sank his teeth into the sensitive spot behind your ear.

"You just have to promise me you'll never touch Mina again, or look at her," you muttered and that's when he lifted his head and frowned with a smirk.

"Babe she's our stylist..."

Yes it was childish, but you were jealous as hell and couldn't help it. On the side you pulled down his pants, which he watched with wide eyes.

"I know... It just drives me crazy. She's into you and she's around you all the time and I can't even fire her because she's really good at her job and nice as hell."

He slipped out of his pants and grabbed your chin so you had to look at him.

"You're damn cute when you're jealous, did you know that?"

His deep voice and doting look made you melt as he lifted one corner of his mouth cheeky.

"I'm not jealous!" you quickly shot back, even though you both knew that was a lie.

"It's just... Fuck you're mine."

Chan's eyes grew big and took on an intense sparkle. The air was forced out of your lungs as his lips crashed hard against yours and he touched your body passionately, pulling you closer and licking into your mouth as if he wanted to devour you. His hand now hovered above your wet core as he worked his way to cup your heat through the thin material of your panties.

"Take your pants off, right now!" he growled against your lips and you instantly got goosebumps all over your body. Quickly, with his help, you slipped out of your shorts and he hurriedly rolled your panties off your legs until you were naked beneath him.

"God. So fucking gorgeous." His left thumb filed on autopilot and landed on your clit. He ran his thumb up and down through your soaked folds. You murmured his name shamelessly as he put his thumb flat on your clit before starting to rub gentle circles on it.

"Sorry baby girl, I can't wait a second longer, if you talk to me like that..." he whispered and slipped out of his boxers. You almost forgot how massive and powerful his hard length was in contrast to your body. You bit your lower lip as he stroked his fingers through your wet folds and wetted his dick with your juices.

He propped himself up next to your head and lined himself up with your entrance. Then he looked deep into your eyes.

"Normally I'd take better care of you, but you're driving me crazy right now.... I won't be able to hold on for long."

You smiled, because you felt the same way. You needed him to light you up. He had to infuse you with life energy again, otherwise you would surely perish.

"Now's your chance to apologize appropriately," you breathed, grinning teasingly. He snorted.

"Oh I will. What do you want baby girl? Tell me? What have you been craving all this time?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to your question, he could read it on your face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in your neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from your lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that you were as desperate as he was.

"You! I want you. All of you and only for me. I want your touch, your cock pounding deep inside me.... Please."

Your stifled gasps he intercepted with a kiss as he pressed his tip into you, sliding inch by inch inside you. He stretched you, seeming to tear your walls apart as he sunk deeper and deeper. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, pulled yourself against him until there was not a breath of space between you, no place where you're not touching. You nipped at his earlobe just to watch the shiver race down his back,

But he distracted you from the burning pain with loving kisses, his tongue played with yours and you clawed your fingernails into his back as he sank all the way into you.

"Oh god... fuck... Channie... so big," you groaned out as he was balls deep inside you, making you catch your breath. You wrapped your legs tighter around his body and he pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead.

"Taking me so well... You're so good for me baby girl. Now let me make you feel good."

With that he began to move his hips. However, slowly and not violently as usual. He kept eye contact, enjoying your soft whimper as he thrusted into you again, deep and savoring every second where your warm pussy sucked him in.

He thrusted slowly but deeply and the world began to drift into the background. You felt only his warm skin, smelled only his cinnamon scent and the passion that made you press your hips against him.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, kissing your soft lips, aware of your body trembling beneath him.

Quickly you nodded, pulling him closer with your legs, pressing your heels against his butt in the process.

"Don't stop! I need you. Please."

Your pleading twisted his mind, your body made him gasp and he moved his hips again. The tip of his cock slowly started to glide into your tight walls again and this allowed him to lay his head on your shoulder and tuck his face into your warm and familiar neck.

Now he felt your soft boobs press into his skin and groaned at the warm feeling it brought him. Chan took your words as a permission to start rocking his hips with yours and it made you let out a gasp of pleasure. This time the sex with Chan was very different than before. He was not fast, heated full of passion and fire. He showed you the loving, caring side that sex had to offer. His movement velvety, deep and engaging. He enjoyed your whole existence, every detail, while he broke you apart completely. You moved in unison, he hit every sensitive spot until you moaned his name out loud, all the while he thrusted into you slowly, you two making your session thats been going on for who knows how long is getting more and more heated. His lips did an incredible job in leaving wet kisses all over your throat and collarbone. He straightened up a bit, his hands sliding down your body from your boobs to your waist, groping and feeling up your skin just so he could appreciate everything about you physically. Your arms around his neck, occasionally threading through his pretty dark curls as he liked looking at you while he fucked you senseless, with deep thrusts that completely silenced your head.

He looked deep into your eyes, rolled his hips and loved the way your thighs were squeezing around his hips. He started thinking about all the things he loved about you. Likewise he absolutely loved the look on your face as he slowly sunk his cock so deep inside of you that you rolled your eyes and treasured the tears that fell from your eyes as he pounded into you. He loved to feel your skin and see how small you looked in his arms.

"Channie I'm close..." you gasped, your fingers tightening on his back and barely fitting a sheet of paper between your bodies. Sweat stood on both of your foreheads, your bodies heated and as if perfectly fused into each other.

"God you're perfect... Come for me baby girl!" he moaned, snapping his hips harder and pulsing deep inside you.

Your fingernails dug deeper into his skin as he kissed you passionately again, you moaning into his mouth and he gripped your breast tightly with his hand. The kiss was soft and slow too, neither rushed nor hungry, and you loved it.

You had time for yourselves for the first time in ages and it was beautiful. Your fight had only brought you closer together and it was a carefree, happy moment in this stressful time.

So maybe that's why you were trying to draw this out as long as possible. To hold off on coming and live in the moment for a while longer. The bed is rocking slightly from the slow but sensual thrusting Chan was doing. Your nails began to claw at the skin of his bare back, making him hiss. He fucked you slow but hard, insistent, determined like he was trying to leave the imprint of himself inside of you long after he was gone.

Suddenly, a euphoric feeling washed over you and your orgasm crashed down on your body. Your body shook and spasmed under him and you had to bite down on his shoulder to conceal your moans. You thought for a moment about his parents, who were just a few doors away. As soon as your walls crushed him the blissful look on your face pushed him over the edge. He came harder than he ever had before, his muscles cramping and he had only bright white desire flooding his veins. He throbbed deep inside you, painted your walls white and looking you straight in the eyes as he gasped:

"Fuck I love you so much..."

You froze at his words, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. His hips slowed down and rather than thrusting, they gradually just pressed into your hips, rutting back and forth slightly, creating added pressure to your bundle of nerves and extending both of your releases.

When you both came down from your high, breathing heavily, he was still deep inside you, hard and pulsating.

It took a few seconds for Chan to realize what he had just said as well. Cautiously, almost fearfully, he raised his eyes, looking for any reaction in your face, but you just stared at him with your mouth open.

"Channie... Did you just say..."

Your soul was on fire and he squeezed his eyes shut, sighing, finally finding the words again:

"Yes... Yes I think I did. And I mean it too. Don't worry, you don't have to answer that! I just want you to know how I feel."

Your hands trembled as you put them to Chan's cheeks, looking at him and falling in love with him all over again. Because there was no other way to express your feelings for him.

"But what if I tell you that I think I've really fallen in love with you? Hopelessly and head over heels."

His face beamed and he took a rattling breath.

"Really?"

You nodded.

"Yes. And the weird thing is, I feel that way about all of you. The extreme feelings, the affection, the desire.... I can't explain it any other way than love."

This seemed to please him even more. He chuckled, his lips collided with yours and he kissed you slowly and intensely. Like the tide that surrounded you, gripping your body and dragging you out into the sea of passion.

Nor did the heat in your veins, the moisture between your legs and the tension in your body diminish. In fact, you never feared getting enough of Chan, which is why you rolled your hips against his again until he moaned loudly as your walls nuzzled him.

"Do you want to keep going?" you asked, blushing at the wet sound that came as he pushed his cum and your juices deeper into you.

He growled dangerously, grabbing your hips and it elicited a naughty moan from you as he violently snapped his hips into yours.

"With a body like that it's a miracle you haven't brought me to the brink of insanity yet. Every time I see you my cock gets hard, its impossible not to think about fucking you day and night", he murmured and stroked your lower lip with his thumb. Then he kissed your neck, sucking on your soft skin until you saw stars and red marks remained. He became more and more addicted to leaving his marks on you. You didn't care if you had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of your sensual encounter, you just needed to feel him. You wanted him to mark you, to declare ownership over your body. Meanwhile you knew you belonged to him, always would and that this would not change. That was exactly what he had now made clear. No matter how many women flirted with him, you had the certainty that he would always come to you and would always choose you. He managed to communicate that to you without any words at all, and as he shook your insides with each thrust, you were just flooded with pure happiness.

One of the many things you loved about Chan was his duality. Last time he fucked you dumb, it was animalistic to say the least. But right now he was softer than he has ever been. He gently handled you as if you were a fragile porcelain doll.

You clung to his back as he seemed to reach deeper with each thrust. His smell, his skin against yours and the soft gasps with your whimpers was so intoxicating that you could do this forever.

But again the knot formed in your lower abdomen, so you pressed your body tightly against his and tried to push it back. But Chan fucked you too well and he was yours. He loved you and that was better than anything that could happen to you.

He felt your body tense and he looked back into your face, his fingers stroking your bare skin like a map he wanted to explore and uncover its secrets.

"It's alright, baby girl. We've got all night," he murmured, watching you crumble beneath him once again. The stifled gasp, your open mouth and the flush of arousal in your eyes made him realize how much he needed this.

And so you kissed, touched, fucked slowly until hours later the black outside the window was already turning an intense pink and gray. You just couldn't stop. It was like being caught in a frenzy that protected you from reality. In your world, all was well.

Two naked bodies, intertwined, floating between highs and warm love, unable to stop holding each other.

After you could no longer count how many times you had come under him, your aching pussy stuffed with his cum, your head as if emptied, you fell asleep after all. He on top of you, his dick still sunk into you and his face nuzzled against your neck. Tightly embraced and comfortably you dozed off exhausted, until the alarm clock tore you from sleep.

As soon as you arrived at rehearsals together, the boys' conversations fell silent and everyone looked at you curiously.

Chan yawned and you also rubbed your eyes tiredly.

"So you guys made up?" asked Hyunjin curiously as Chan placed a hand on your lower back to curtly say goodbye before climbing on stage with the other guys.

You sat down on the edge with a bottle of water and propped your head on your hand.

"So from the looks of their faces, they've made up all night," Changbin smirked and patted Chan on the shoulder, who just shook his head and suppressed a grin.

"All night?" escaped Han quietly, as by now several people from staff had joined them for rehearsals.

"We had a lot of catching up to do," Chan muttered with a mischievous look to you, to which you bit your lip and stared at the floor. The memories of last night were varied and intense. It was only in the morning that you had noticed that you had spent hours and hours sleeping with each other, and you had even fallen asleep during it, because you couldn't stop for a second. Even now you felt his body intertwined with yours, his length deep inside you and his whole presence as close as never before. It was as if his hands had never left your skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into your body. One of the technical team announced over a microphone the first song to be rehearsed and the guys lined up. But did not stop cackling with each other.

"Really all night? You guys didn't sleep at all?" hissed Jeongin in disbelief and Chan‘s sly smile was enough to read the answer on his face.

"And I thought I had stamina..." muttered Jisung just before the music kicked in and the kids started rehearsing.

->Part 24

——————————————————————-

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Taglist (closed):

@poisonivy21 @elizalabs3 @chartrucewhore @smutlemononeshot @hgema @bookwyrm28 @jeongchaos @jihanlovic @comingupwithacoolnameishard @marked-unknown @yuhjoeyuh @bakedlilgoonie @itstorimf @toomuchtellyneck @ana-stasssiaaa @galaxypox @n034sy @amara-mars @purple-bell @amararosesblog @tori719 @rindomo @freakinthesheets-excelexcel @crazyllamasurfer @luunaruwu @mariegalea @kimseungminsprincess @julciaqwerty @officialshania @whore4stucky9104 @foxinnie8 @i-dont-know-me-either @sirenthalia @mixling-blog @httpsmultifandom @hyunlixwife @eastleighsblog @tzalethhwang @queenofdragons12  @fixation-dump @midsoulz @emmxxsworld @scarletrosesposts @jinniespuppy @minervasystem @hyunlixsbbygirl @3rachasninja @cuddlethebear @sinforsuccubus @sweetpeas-serpent-princess

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 23

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂

<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

23. Every Breath You Take

“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.

“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.

“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”

“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”

Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.

He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.

“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.

Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”

Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”

“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.

But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.

Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”

“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.

Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?

“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.

Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”

“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.

“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.

But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.

“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.

Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”

Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.

Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?

He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.

“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.

Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.

“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.

Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”

Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.

And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?

But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.

However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.

But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.

Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.

“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”

“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.

He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.

Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.

Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.

“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”

Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.

“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”

See? Wine.

“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.

“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”

“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.

“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.

“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.

There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.

Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.

And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.

On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.

“Dean, please…”

That was the fourth – like clockwork.

Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.

Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.

“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”

“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”

“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.

“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.

“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”

But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.

She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.

Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.

But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?

With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.

She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.

He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.

All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.

However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.

Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.

Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.

But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.

“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.

Oh.

“Uh…”

Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.

The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.

“Dean? Dean!”

Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.

He does know how to make an entrance.

Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”

“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”

“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.

The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”

With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.

“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.

“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.

“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”

Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”

As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.

“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.

“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”

“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.

Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.

“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.

Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.

“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.

“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”

Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.

“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”

At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.

Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”

Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”

“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”

Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.

“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.

“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.

Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”

Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.

Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.

Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.

“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”

“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.

“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”

“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.

Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.

“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.

But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.

And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.

“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.

“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”

“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”

“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”

“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.

Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.

“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.

With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”

“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”

“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.

“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.

“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.

“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.

“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”

“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.

“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”

Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.

“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.

“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”

Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.

“Nope, still clean,��� he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.

“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”

Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”

Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”

It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.

“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.

“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”

“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.

Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.

“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.

24. Don't Dream It's Over

Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus

Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi

[the-californicationist]

The Missed Deadline

Gaz/FReader - virginity pact, childhood besties, explicit consent

AO3 Link

You and Kyle had a pact. Ever since you were teenagers, you pinky promised that if you were still virgins by the time you turned 21, you’d do it together. He’d gone off to war and lost his virginity immediately, but when he comes back to help his mum for the holiday, he learns that you still have yours, and you’re way past your deadline. 

!!! MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS !!

To anyone who has not yet lost their virginity: THIS IS FICTION AND IT IS NOT A GUIDEBOOK. Fuck responsibly, everyone.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your neighbor, Mrs. Garrick, had been moving all of her old furniture into storage, prepping for a huge remodel, and now, here he was. He was back. It had been years since you’d seen him. 

“Marco?” You called out from your open bedroom window.

He looked around for a moment, resting after helping move a dresser out of the front door, so you called again,

“Up here!”

He looked up at your window, and his face lit up when he found you. 

“Polo? Bloody hell. It’s you,” his face softened with amused wonder, and he started to take off his leather work gloves, “I’m coming up!”

Kyle moved through your garden in the same way he always had, ever since you were kids. You heard your front door open, and then you listened as his heavy boots trod up the stairs, and finally, you watched the old brass knob to your room turn, pop, and open with a soft creak. 

He stood there in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, frozen in time. Only, he was much older than he should’ve been. 

He should have been 15 again, showing you how to work a two-way radio so you could play recon with him in the fields next to your house. 

He should have been 16, trying to learn how to kiss, telling you and himself that you were just doing it to practice, that it didn’t have to mean anything. 

He should have been 17, sitting on your bed, head in his hands, telling you he’d joined the army and that he didn’t know when he was coming back, but that he had fallen for you and he knew that you couldn’t be together. 

He should’ve been 18, back from basic training, telling you about all of his adventures, asking if you still liked him, making you promise that if you were both still virgins when you turned 21, you’d lose it together. 

But, now, here he was, 22 and staring at you, making you feel like you were still 15, making promises to him that you were never meant to keep. 

“Marco,” you whispered, standing up and reaching out for him.

“Polo,” he whispered back, crossing the room to hold you in his arms. 

He was wearing a tee shirt without its sleeves, sweaty and dirty from moving furniture all day, and he stared down at you like he expected you to kiss him. Remembering himself, he broke the hug and moved back, suddenly aware of his body in your small space.

You went through the little dance you were supposed to do: hi - hi - how are things - how’s school - how’s your mum - blah, blah, blah. It was nothing, and you knew it was nothing, and so did he. So, you stopped. 

“Did you keep your promise, then?” You knew he hadn’t. He was a grown man in the army for fuck’s sake. 

He blushed, and shook his head,

“No, I didn’t. Go a little carried away on leave with the lads once or twice.”

“With the lads, hm?” You teased him.

“No! I mean, it was ladies. But, uh, it was also lads. Sometimes. Uh…Christ,” he rubbed his hands down his face in embarrassment. 

You raised your eyebrows and smiled wide,

“Ah! So, you have been practicing, haven’t you?”

He grinned,

“Yep. Just rehearsing for the big performance. How about you?”

He grabbed a towel from the stack by your closet, knowing where you kept them and put it on the bed so he wouldn’t get your sheets dirty when he sat down on them. The mattress creaked under his weight. You could smell his sweat and laundry detergent. 

You shook your head,

“None for me. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess.”

Kyle gasped,

“You’re past due, Polo. What are we gonna do with you?”

“Throw me out?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension.

The tension did not ease. He was so close to you, and he was staring at you in a new way, studying you like he didn’t know you by heart. 

You reached out to touch his cheek, finding a fresh scar on it where there had not been one before. You felt his skin shudder so gently beneath your touch, and his breathing quickened. You rubbed the scar with your thumb like you would a stain, trying to get it out. Then, he lunged for you, kissing you deeply, so different and so much more sure of himself than he had been at 16, 17, and 18. All of those kisses tasted just like this one though, and the memory of your feelings for him came rushing back, fresh as the day they were borne. 

You remembered when you had decided you were in love with Kyle Garrick. He was about to turn 16, and you and he and a few of his friends had gone down to Brighton beach for the day to celebrate. You’d played Marco Polo in the waves, blind, hands out, feeling for bodies in the current. You were Polo and he was Marco this time, and you were swimming away from him, but a wave caught you and shoved you into him. He had wrapped you in his arms to steady you, and since you were the only girl, he knew it was you. 

He’d lingered on you with his eyes still wrenched shut, rubbing his palms down your body, touching your breasts beneath the water, cupping your ass and touching your belly. You’d lingered on him as well, getting as far as the band of his pants before the next wave hit and broke you apart. You’d swam to shore together, and you didn’t speak for the rest of the day, but you had stared at each other like your life depended on it. Enthralled.

That next evening, while your parents were out at dinner, you’d used the two-way radio to call him over, but you couldn’t help yourself, and you called him “Marco.” When he called you “Polo,” you knew he liked you, and that was enough. 

He broke the kiss, and he whispered into your gasping mouth, 

“I’m sorry, I just… I wanted to… sorry…”

“Are you going to make good on your promise, Marco?” You tested him.

His gaze shot up to find yours, and you got lost in the deep chocolate brown of his wide, bright eyes. He was searching for the jest and finding only earnestness.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I think it should be you. Seems right. You don’t have to… be with me or anything. I get that you have your army thing, and I don’t want to distract you from that, but I —”

“No,” he said, shoving a stake through your heart. Or at least it felt like it. 

“No?” You confirmed, praying you’d heard the simplest word wrong.

“No, I mean, not like this. Tonight. What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? Nothing. I was just here helping bring my mum’s things to her sister’s house. She lives there now, and I’m watching their place while I’m on holiday from uni. Didn’t even plan to stay this afternoon, but I can.”

“Tonight, let me take you to Five and Ten,” he stood up suddenly, straightening himself out, looking proper as he could in his mess of work clothes. 

“Why? You don’t have to do all that. Just forget I said —”

“Please. Let me take you. Six o’clock. I’ll drive us.”

So, he did. You wore an old dress from when you were young, and you thanked all the gods that it still fit. He looked much sharper than you in a burgundy suit and a shining tie. He’d become quite fashionable in his adulthood, it seemed.

The food was exquisite, and he ordered expensive wine. Kyle held your door and pulled out your chair, and he even paid for the whole meal. It was magical. You’d only been on a few dates, but this one blew the others way out of the water. 

At the end of the night, you ended up back where you started. The towel was still on the bed. But, now, you were in your dress clothes and he was in his, and you were just as nervous as you were when you were 16. 

“Look,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders, speaking softly as though you weren’t the only people in the house, “I need you to know that this stops the moment you say it does. If you think, even for a moment, that you need me to stop, all you have to do is say so and it stops. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sounded unsure. 

“Hey,” he took your chin in his hands and lifted your face to his, “We don’t need to do this. I loved… I had a wonderful time tonight, and I’m happy. You’ve made me the happiest man alive. Please don’t say yes just because you think —”

“Kyle,” you dropped his nickname in favor of his real one, needing him to know you were serious, “I want to, if you want to.”

“Bloody hell, I want to,” he groaned. 

It was all a rush, then. He was kissing you, and you were pulling off his coat. He was running his huge hands across your bare back, and you were tugging at his buttons. He was laying you on the bed, and pulling off your heels. You were unzipping him and unzipping you and unfurling into each other like two roses blooming face to face, your petals bending and pushing and mixing and slipping together as you opened and opened and opened to each other. 

Finally, there you were, naked and shaking. He paused, whispering to you,

“Marco?”

You smiled, kissing his full lips to taste your memories again, 

“Polo.” You whispered back. 

He kissed down your neck,

Marco?

Polo.

He took one of your nipples into his mouth and began to suckle from it, pulling the skin and nipping at your taut nub. 

Marco?

Polo.

Traveling down your belly…

Marco?

Polo.

Licking up the side of your navel…

Marco?

Polo.

Burying his nose in your folds and taking in a long, deep breath…

Marco?

Polo.

He plunged his mouth onto you and ate you like he was still hungry, like he hadn’t had dinner, like he’d never tasted anything so good in his whole goddamn life. All of the lapping and the laving and the sucking came to a crescendo again and again. Adding a finger, he began to stretch you open. He was careful with you, too careful. 

“Kyle,” you rubbed his shaved head encouragingly, “Another, babe. Please.”

The groan that came out of his mouth sent powerful vibrations through your body. You felt him add another finger, and the delicious stretch that came from it made your core flood with wet, hot slick. 

“You’re so wet. So good,” he moaned against your lips.

“Will you… please?” You begged, not sure how to ask for what you wanted.

Kyle smiled,

“Still impatient as ever, Polo. You haven’t changed.”

You whined, begging with a twist of your hips and your body. 

“Shh, shh, baby,” he kissed your pussy again, wetting his lips on you, “Gotta open you up for me.”

You arched your back as he sucked on the tight nerves of your clit, pulling an orgasm from you as his fingers pumped inside of you, creating wet noises that filled the quiet room. Your moans and his breaths became your call and his response, and the more you rocked your hips against his jaws, the hungrier he seemed to become. Eventually, his tongue joined his fingers, feeding itself into your clenching hole as a third member, stretching you through your pleasure, readying your body for his intrusion. 

“God,” you reached down to him, searching for a hand to hold, “Oh, my God.”

He grabbed your hand tightly, holding you as you trembled against his mouth.

Finally, he was satisfied, and you were deeply pliant, dripping for him, and you felt the warmth pool inside you. You felt ready. 

He positioned himself between your legs and lay his cock along your pussy lips and up onto your belly, showing you its length. You put your hands on him, touching his hardness. Kyle whimpered, shocking you with the noise he made, steadying himself on your hips, breathing hard. 

“Are you going to put it in me?” You whispered, hearing your voice but not realizing you were saying the words. 

“Yeah, baby, I am,” he promised, “You ready?”

You nodded, watching as he placed his head at your entrance, feeling the pressure he applied as he pushed forward. The first inch or two felt wonderful, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until he sank deeper into your pussy that you started to feel the pressure he was creating with his girth. It stung, and then, there was a quick release. He slipped forward, no longer impeded, and he caught himself, aware of you and your pain.

He was gasping, trying to hold himself back,

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you pulled him into a long kiss, bending your hips to encourage him.

“Fuck, okay, okay…” he groaned, pushing into you deeper. 

He moved slowly, carefully, and with his gaze pinned to your face, watching for any signs of pain or displeasure. His hand worked your clit for you, building your pleasure as your body experienced this new, full sensation. You felt like you were using muscles within you that you’d never used before. 

Unable to hold himself together, he rested his nose and mouth in the crook of your neck, kissing you, whining for you, telling you a million sweet nothings about how good you were and how you were making him feel. You cradled his head, enjoying all of the sensations he was crafting within you, hanging on every word.  

The way that your body was taking him was painful at first, but the fullness had made up for it. You reveled in the sensation of his cock’s hardness as it parted your walls. You had an implant, and you were looking forward to feeling his come in you.

“Can you go faster?” You asked into his ear, ready for another orgasm and needing his help. 

He looked up at you like you had asked him something impossible, or at least something insane, and he furrowed his brow, cupping your chin in his palm, looking into your eyes to see if you were telling the truth. 

“I can, baby,” he kissed you, sucking your bottom lip between his, licking against your tongue like an invitation.

“Please…” you begged. 

“Mmmnghh,” he cried, forcing his hips to thrust into you with a quicker rhythm, listening to the wet slapping noises it made on your body. 

The bed creaked, and you watched as his whole body contributed to his work. His strong core and huge shoulders helped him rut into you, and you could see the red flush coating his cheeks and neck. His intensity was making you feel like you were static, like you could call down lightning to strike you at any moment.

“Kyle, oh, fuck… you’re making me come. Fuck!” You called out for him, feeling yourself tumbling over the edge from his new speed. 

“You’re making me come,” he growled, staring down at where you were joined together, his huge body tensing like he was trying to hold onto you in a torrential storm, like you would fly away from him if he didn’t hold you tight. 

You tried to hold back, but you clenched down around him, unable to help your reaction. He thrust forward once, and then once more, in a stuttering, slow fashion, and you felt his come pulse into you, hot and sticky. It was subtle, but enjoyable, and you clenched again to draw out another sigh. 

“Fuck, that was… it was perfect. Your pussy is perfect, baby. Holy shit. You held me just right. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop it,” he was mumbling, still thrusting in and out of you as he softened, trying his best to calm down. 

You ran your hands across his wide chest,

“Thank you for keeping your promise.”

“Wanna make another one?” He smiled down at you, kissing you as he slid out of your body, turning you over so he could hold you close to him.

[katyawriteswhump]

Freestyle love (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22 prompt, Sports AU.

Nobody ever wanted Eddie Munson on their swim squad, and uni competition was no different. Until Steve Harrington decided to play by the rules.

WC: 966. Rating: T.

CW: none really. Tags: Enemies to lovers, whump, university/college AU.

***

"Munson's freestyle times smash half the teams.'" Steve pushed his wet hair from his eyes, double-checked the stopwatch. “He’s in."

"That science geek pond-scum?” asked Steve's swim co-captain, standing with him beside the pool. "No way. You read the numbers backwards again, Harrington?"

"Shut up. I’m calling this one."

When Steve broke the news, Munson pulled off his swim-cap and a mass of dark, damp hair tumbled out. “One of your teammates said my tats automatically disqualify me,” said Munson.

“That’s bullshit.” Steve actually found Munson’s freaky tattoos bizarrely compelling. Oh, and the body beneath—all lean rope-like muscle, not massive shoulders, but a decent swimmer’s physique. “We need you. You beat most of the sports scholarship guys.”

“I know.” Munson shrugged. “And you can take my place on your dumb squad and stuff it up their buttholes.”

“What the heck, man? Why did you trial, if you don’t want in?”

“To show you over-privileged frat-house dicks you ain’t special. I qualify every year—you’re just the first knucklehead to notice. Anyhooo.” He poked his tongue out stupidly. Steve planted his hands on his hips and couldn’t glare harder. “I’m off to Who Soc.”

“What Soc?”

Munson’s shoulder clipped Steve’s as he passed—possibly an accident, but he nearly toppled Steve into the pool.

“Screw you, man! Crawl back to your den of Satanist freaks, like I care.”

“Yeah?” Munson poked out his tongue again, wiggled his fingers. “Hexing you, Harrington. Oooooh, bet you’re pissing yourself.”

***

Eddie had simply been getting one back for the little guys, against all those over-pumped numbskulls. 

He still felt bad when he heard what happened at the inter-state semis—some moron dived into the pool on top of Harrington in the shallow end, breaking his leg.

It bugged Eddie. So much he wound up visiting Steve at the hospital.

When Eddie sidled into Steve’s room, Steve’s pale face—peeking from behind his plastered leg in traction—said it all: What the heck?

“Hey,” mumbled Eddie. “Guess I’m the last person you expected.”

“On my list of expected visitors, you were somewhere below Elvis.” Harrington seemed pissed. Also genuinely bewildered.

He was still sexy as hell.

Especially now Eddie couldn’t find it in his cold, metal-loving heart to hate the guy. Mmmm, and was it kinda wrong to wanna lick those well-muscled arms, and picture him shirtless… even when Harrington glowered at him from a hospital bed?

Eddie raised his palms in half-hearted surrender. “I owe you an explanation. I’ve been doing swim trials since Middle School. My time is always good—the place I grew up in was right by a lake—yet nobody ever gave me my place on the squad before. This face never fits.” He gurned a silly grin. “Then you went and flew in the face of all the laws in the universe and offered me ‘in.’ I guess it... blew me away.”

“I was only following the goddamn rules.” Steve grumpily puffed his flatter-than-usual hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, and I was a dick, and the Hex thing was dumb. I didn’t really… you know…”

“I don’t blame you for my stupid accident.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not a complete moron. I'm scraping a pass in English Lit, okay?” As the atmosphere softened, Eddie shuffled nearer Steve’s bed. “Good job. Who's gonna keep me here on a sports scholarship now?”

“Sorry, man.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault!” Up close, Harrington looked exhausted, possibly even in pain, with dark smudgy shadows around his eyes. “You know, you can do something to make this less shit.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed oddly—gratefully? “What?”

“Take my place in the squad.” Steve mumbled toward hands clasped in his lap. “I recorded your times, made it official. The place is yours to claim. I'd tell the team myself… if any of them came to visit.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nobody’s got time for a swim co-captain who’ll never swim competitively again.” 

A lump clogged Eddie’s throat. Harrington’s face worked strangely, too… Shit, shit, shit! Eddie reached out, tentatively squeezed Steve’s shoulder. Steve looked up sharply, eyes large and liquid. Damn, the boy was tense.

“That stinks,” said Eddie.

“Yeeeah.” Steve’s laugh was shaky, while Eddie’s mind raced: 

“Dude, I’m in a ton of non-sports societies. D & D, model-making, Who Soc… Uh, maybe not that one for you. I can bring a few of the guys and gals here, see if you get into anything.”

“I don’t need YOU to find me friends.” Harrington’s spikiness proved short-lived. He unleashed a resigned sigh: “Look, man, I’m not exactly in the mood for parties, but… If you wanna come back… that would be cool.”

Suddenly, neither of them could look at each other. Eddie’s face was burning. Could he actually be into me?

“Tho’ if you’re not fresh from swim practice when you arrive, I’m not interested, Munson.”

Eddie hooted: “You blackmailing me?”

“I can play dirty, ya know, buck expectations, too.” Steve went in for the kill. He smiled up at Eddie, a proper, hot-as-hell smile, which reached his too-pretty brown eyes. 

Is he hitting on me?!? Eddie gawked like a goldfish.

“See you tomorrow?”

***

On the day of the national finals, Steve watched from the stands. When Eddie slammed home for victory on the final leg of the freestyle relay, Steve was on his feet—okay, propped by his crutches—cheering his head off.

As soon as Eddie could get away, he clambered, wet and dripping, through to the rear of the stands and planted an even wetter kiss on Steve's lips. Steve threw his arms around his boyfriend. It was great to finally be with somebody to whom only the real things in life mattered. 

"Love you, Champ," he whispered in Eddie’s ear.

"Love you, too." Eddie kissed him again.

Victory had never felt so hot.

***

Thanks for reading :) Also part of my steve whump fic series (mainly steddie) on ao3