#anyway thank you for the ask this is a really interesting subject i think i could talk forever about how marred | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maxlarens · 3 months

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OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

#oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x driver!reader #oneshots:op81 #driver!reader #Spotify

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tongue-like-a-razor · 5 months

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Brother's Best Friend - Part 12

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Trying to get back into these two. Did we miss them?

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: 2600+

Part 1 | Masterlist

“So…” Jake pauses and purses his lips to suppress a mischievous smile. “When did you start liking me?”

You look down at your lap where his head has been resting for the last five minutes. “Did I tell you I like you?”

Jake meets your gaze and snorts. He reaches up to take your hand off the keyboard of your laptop and brings it down over his chest. “Indirectly,” he admits.

You roll your eyes, recalling when you had expressed to Bradley – in Jake’s presence – how ‘your guy’ makes you feel. You pull your hand out of his grasp and look back up at the screen in front of you. “I have to work, Jake.”

“You’re too hardworking,” Jake responds with a whine.

You shake your head with a grin. “Such a dreadful habit, I know. I’m working on it – wait. Damn, I see what you mean –”

Jake starts chuckling and his head tickles your bare thighs. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You press your lips together as your smile broadens. “When did you start liking me?” you ask.

Jake releases a heavy sigh and sits up. “Alright, enough chitchat. Get to work.”

You watch him rise to his feet and make his way into the kitchen, curious why he so abruptly decided to change the subject. “Got any plans this weekend?” you ask casually, wondering if he’ll finally ask you out on a date. The two of you have been sneaking around for a while, but your only outings together have been with Bradley, so you couldn’t even hold hands. Thus far, you’ve assumed that Jake is just waiting for the right moment to speak with Bradley before the two of you make your relationship official but, as time goes on, you become increasingly skeptical that Jake actually intends to come clean.

Jake shrugs. “Not really. Just hangin’ with your bro.”

You try your best not to frown. “Sounds fun.”

Jake walks back over to you and sets a bowl of strawberries on the table by your laptop. You glance up at him inquisitively and he responds with, “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

You give him a smile. “Neither have you.”

He nods. “Which is how I know you’re hungry.”

“Thanks,” you say. “As soon as I’m through with this part, I’ll move all this shit and we can have some lunch.” You gesture at the pile of literature currently cluttering your workspace.

Jake takes a seat adjacent to you at the table and lets out another sigh. “I don’t know,” he says.

You shift your gaze from your computer to look in his direction. “Don’t know what? If you want lunch?” You pick up a strawberry and pop it into your mouth.

Jake is observing you carefully and you stop chewing because the attention makes you uncomfortable. “I don’t know when…” he says, pausing as though he isn’t sure how to continue. “When, uh… I don’t know at what point” – he exhales sharply – “I have no clue when I f – when I started to see you as more than just Bradley’s sister. As more than a friend.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, your mouth still full of half-chewed strawberry.

“I think I just realized, at one point, that I’d rather spend time with you than with anyone else,” he admits.

You finish chewing awkwardly before responding with, “Huh.”

Jake stares at you expectantly, as though you should have something to add.

But you’re not really sure what to say. You’ve been crushing on Jake for an embarrassingly long time and he does not have clearance for that kind of classified intel, especially since his interest in you is far more recent. What does he want, anyway? A pat on the back for finally figuring it out?

“Your turn,” he says, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence.

You purse your lips as though you’re in thought. “Not sure,” you say vaguely.

Jake narrows his eyes. “Not sure? Or don’t want to say?”

You meet his gaze tentatively. “I probably liked you before you liked me.”

Jake watches you with a slight grin. “In that case, you were very good at hiding it.”

…

You arrive at the pub already slightly tipsy after pre-drinking at your friend’s house. In fact, you’re drunk enough to not give two shits that Jake has, once again, decided to spend his Saturday night with Bradley. This time, he didn’t even invite you along.

Once inside, you head straight for the bar; no sense in wasting time waiting for a table. You grab a drink and take a look around the crowded establishment. That’s when you see him.

Jake fucking Seresin is sitting at a table near the back – not with your brother. You stare at him – and his female companion – in horror for a few moments, letting the scene sink in. Wondering if you’re in the wrong for being shocked. Are the two of you even exclusive? This has never actually been discussed. But one thing is certain: Jake lied, which makes you sick to your stomach.

You slide off your barstool and, cocktail in hand, you make your way to the little table in the back where your supposed boyfriend – or whatever he is – sits entertaining another woman. It’s not long before Jake notices your presence because you’re making quite a spectacle on your way over as you furiously skirt every person in your path.

Jake looks uncomfortable and that satisfies you greatly. “Hey,” he says when you arrive.

You gape at him. “Hey?” you exclaim in outrage.

“Uh,” Jake stalls for a moment. He turns to his date and says, “This is Bradley’s sister.”

The woman opposite Jake smiles at you but you’re too busy glaring at Jake to acknowledge her. “That’s all you want to say about me?”

Jake watches you pointedly. “What else do you want me to say about you?” He looks back at his date and lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Seresin?” you shriek, slamming your stemmed glass onto their table so aggressively that your sour apple martini splashes over the rim.

Jake jerks back to avoid getting wet and then looks up at you in alarm. “What’s the matter with you?”

You shake your head at him in disappointment and then turn abruptly to leave. You expect Jake to grab your hand, or follow you out, but he does neither. In fact, you make it all the way back to the bar before you realize that Jake is not even looking in your direction. You see him laughing together with his female friend, as though they both just witnessed something absurd and worthy of repeating in the future for a good chuckle.

“Hey, isn’t that your brother’s aviator buddy?” your friend says, nodding toward the back of the pub.

You roll your eyes and then turn toward the bar, realizing you left your drink at Jake’s table.

“He’s kind of hot,” you friend continues. “But he’s got fuckboy written all over him.”

You close your eyes and sigh. You have nobody to blame but yourself. You know Jake. What in the world made you think he would become a different person if he were with you?

…

The following day, you wake up past noon with a debilitating migraine. You hear Bradley and Jake’s voices drift up from the kitchen and groan. You’re not in the mood to face Jake after the events of the previous evening. You ended up going home shortly after confronting him and you have no idea where he ended up. Probably in bed, and probably not alone.

You get dressed unhurriedly, dizzy from the pain and, on your way downstairs, you grip the banister tightly just in case. The kitchen is excruciatingly bright, and you cringe upon entering, shielding your face from the open window like a vampire.

“Oh, hey sleepyhead!” your brother greets you.

You grunt in response and head straight for the coffee pot. “Is this fresh?” you ask.

“Nope!” Bradley replies cheerily.

You pour yourself a mug anyway and put it in the microwave, turning to face the two of them while your coffee warms.

Jake meets your gaze with a stoic expression.

“How was your night?” Bradley asks with a grin, clearly seeing that you’re hungover.

“Fine,” you say monotonously.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “It’s the enthusiasm for me,” he says with a smirk, looking over at Jake.

Jake, however, ignores him and grabs his jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “You ’bout ready, Bradshaw? I ain’t got all day.”

“Alright, alright,” Bradley says. “Let me get my stuff.”

Bradley jogs over to the staircase and runs up to grab his duffel bag. Meanwhile, you are deliberately avoiding Jake’s gaze as you lean your back into the kitchen counter. Jake stuffs his hands into his pockets and is also not looking at you. When Bradley returns a few minutes later, disrupting the silence with a melodic whistling, the two of you have not moved an inch from where you’d been standing when he left. Even though the microwave has beeped at you twice.

“What’s with you two?” he asks, pausing in the doorway.

“Nothing,” Jake responds curtly. “Let’s go.”

Bradley glances between the two of you. “Okay,” he says slowly, his gaze lingering on you in particular. “See you later, sis,” he says.

You wave a distracted hand in his direction and head for the couch with your coffee, nearly bumping into Jake as you cross paths because neither of you is looking at the other.

“Sorry,” Jake mutters, stepping aside to let you pass. His hand goes up instinctively to guide you but he catches himself before letting it rest on your arm.

“It’s fine,” you say, wavering slightly on the spot. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and press a couple of fingers into your temple.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyebrows converging as he tries to catch your gaze.

“I said I’m fine.” You sigh, trying to walk around him.

“Seresin, you coming, or what?” Bradley calls from the foyer.

Jake hesitates as you finally pass him, and then yells back. “I’ll meet you there!”

Bradley waits a moment as though he’s still trying to figure out what’s going on. Then you hear the front door open and Bradley shout, “Don’t be late!” as he exits the house.

Jake trails after you into the living room and, when you lower yourself onto the couch, he crouches down in front of you, placing a hand on your knee. “Migraine?” he asks.

You nod slowly so as not to exacerbate the pain.

Jake’s hand gives your leg a soft squeeze. “Have you eaten?”

You cringe. “Please don’t talk to me about food right now,” you beg.

“Did you take anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m out.”

Jake gets to his feet. “I’ll go pick up some meds for you,” he says.

You glance up at him miserably. “You’re going to be late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds, already on his way out.

…

Jake returns not ten minutes later with your medication and a bag full of snacks. “I heard dark chocolate is good for migraines,” he says, holding out a block for you as you swallow your pills.

“I’m not hungry, Jake,” you say weakly, closing your eyes and lying back down on the couch.

Jake sighs, sitting down on the floor beside you and starting to unwrap the chocolate. “You need to eat something,” he says, breaking off a piece. “I also have gummy worms and popcorn.”

You open your eyes. “I love gummy worms,” you whisper.

Jake grins. “I know,” he whispers back.

You take the chocolate square from his hand and he busies himself with opening the bag of gummy worms while you let the chocolate melt in your mouth. A moment later, he hands you a gummy worm and you stick it between your teeth and bite. “Oh my god, it’s so good,” you moan. The motion of chewing helps alleviate some of the pain in your temple and you sigh blissfully, closing your eyes.

Jake leans his back into the wall adjacent the couch and pops a gummy worm into his mouth. For a while, the two of you sit in silence. Then, he says, “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you say.

Jake shakes his head and you can sense his irritation without even looking at him. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.”

You turn to give him a flat look. “Would you trust you, Seresin?”

Jake squares his jaw. “I have never given you a reason not to trust me.”

“You lied to me! You said you were meeting Bradley!”

“I was! He was running late.”

You watch him sourly. “And you just happened to pick up a girl while you were waiting?”

Jake returns your bitter glare. “Is that actually what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” you say, sitting upright to look him in the eye. “You weren't exactly forthcoming with an explanation.”

Jake sets the gummy worms on the couch and gets to his feet. “The girl was there for Bradley. He was running late. End of story.”

“You couldn’t tell me that yesterday?”

“She’s seeing Bradley! And he doesn’t know about us. It’s not like I can say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m actually dating your boyfriend’s little sister and that’s why she’s acting like a nutcase. Brb.’”

You fold your arms, sulking. Did you consider the possibility that the woman Jake was sitting with wasn’t his date? Briefly. But you were already annoyed with Jake and that, combined with your less than sober state, was apparently a recipe for disaster. “I guess I don’t trust you,” you say with a shrug, even though this statement isn’t altogether true.

Jake places his hands on his hips, exhaling slowly. “Why?” he asks, sounding exasperated.

You stay silent and continue to brood.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and grimaces as though this conversation is wearing him out. Then, he lets out another sigh and crouches before you again, trying to catch your gaze as he places his hands in your lap, palms up. “Why?” he asks calmly, waiting for you to join hands with him.

You do. “Well, why would I?” you say quietly, hesitating before you continue. “What is this, even? What are we? Do you know? Because I don’t.”

Jake’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, why haven’t you told Bradley yet? Is it because you’re not sure you want to make this official? Is it because it’s just a fling so why bother?” You cringe inwardly, hating how insecure you sound.

Jake stares at you in wonder, as though this line of thinking has never even crossed his mind.

“Like, are we even exclusive?”

Jake’s eyes widen and he blinks at you in awe. “We fucking better be,” he retorts, his hold on your hands tightening slightly.

“Well, how would I know that?” you exclaim.

Jake brings his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes. “Jesus fuck, how would you not know that?”

You scoff at him. “Because you’ve never once been in an exclusive relationship! Not while I’ve known you, anyway. Do you even know how?”

Jake’s hands slide down his face and stay over his mouth as he gapes at you. When his hands finally drop back into your lap, you can see that he’s got a small smile on his face. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he says finally.

You lower your gaze, not exactly comforted considering he still has not addressed your main concern: Bradley.

Jake stands up and pulls you up off the couch. He puts his arms around you and you rest your head against one of his giant shoulders, allowing him to cradle you lovingly.

“Why haven’t you told Bradley?” you mutter into his shirt.

Jake pulls away from you and runs a hand through his hair uneasily. “I’m scared, Baby B,” he admits. “I’m scared he’s gonna make me choose.”

Read Part 13

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pelova4president · 4 months

Text

To your rescue

Lauren Hemp x Charles!Reader

summary~ You get into an argument with your girlfriend. You’re stubborn, and Lauren is too, but luckily another Charles is there to help.

Being Niamh Charles’ little sister you were meant to be a footballer too. You grew up playing all sorts of sports with your older sister. Your household was very competitive, not just sports, card games too and that’s what got you to where you are now.

Niamh always had your back. She joked and complained a bit about you whenever you were with her. But you knew she spoke highly of you to others. Your bond had grown even stronger through your shared love for football.

Niamh ended up playing for Chelsea where as you ended up at another blue club, Manchester City. You got to play with your sister’s bestfriend Lauren.

Lauren is a very interesting person. And that might’ve been what got you to love her so much. Nobody really knew what was going on in that head of hers, if there was even anything going on at all.

You honestly don’t remember when they started to be friends but Lauren was always near. Niamh and Lauren were always together, it was like they could know what the other was thinking without even saying anything.

Lauren was already part of the family by the time you started dating. No matter how many hints you gave her, she didn’t seem to notice them, Lauren was absolutely oblivious to them.

You’d absolutely had it by the time you admitted your feelings out loud. You had taken her out to a coffee shop after training, it wasn’t commen for you to get some alone time with her.

You sat her down after ordering and got straight to the point. “Lauren i really like you and i’d love to go on a real date sometime.” you told her.

Lauren was a bit shocked at your confession. “Uuh okay, yeah same.” she answered.

You had to laugh a little at that. She didn’t expect it but it didn’t necessarily surprise her either. But as fast as your question was answered she went to another subject.

Lauren didn’t have to think much about accepting your offer. She had talked about you a few times too many to your sister. Niamh caught on and asked Lauren about it. She may not have realised she was in love with you but when Niamh asked her it all clicked. She has loved you for longer than she knew.

Niamh was okay with it and there was nothing stopping her but she just didn’t have the balls to ask you out and she didn’t know if you liked her anyway.

But god was she happy you asked her, otherwise this would never have gotten any further than longing stares.

If you hadn’t asked her you wouldn’t be in a longterm relationship, footballing together, living with each other and loving each other so openly and passionately.

And if you’d ask what Niamh thought about your relationship she always said ‘Lauren was always like family now she’s just officially family’.

lauren_hemp

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 32.371 others

matching 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

comments

niamhcharles17 is that my watch?

↳ y/ncharles no it’s not, mine just looks like yours

↳ niamhcharles17 so it is mine

↳ y/ncharles nooooo just looks the saammee

sandy_maciver pookies

maryfowlerrr 💗💗💗

kerstin_casparij winning best matching couple award 🥇

↳ lauren_hemp thank you thank you 🤭

hempo11 ugghh i love them sm

mancitehh2020 they’re the cutest fr

You and Lauren never really have arguments, if there were any they were tiny. Those arguments were about what show to watch or what chocolate to buy and you’d just end up buying two different chocolate bars. There was always an easy solution.

But now it was about something important. You needed a new couch in your shared home and Lauren thought a mustard coloured one would look good. In your eyes this was fugly, yeah you said fugly and Lauren was beyond offended.

“Lau, baby i just don’t think a yellow couch would look good in our home. It just doesn’t match anything babe.” you pleaded with her.

“Yeah it does! Look, we have mustard in our fridge and yellow flowers!” she tried to convince you.

“Come on, that doesn’t even count!” you told her annoyed.

“I’ve let you pick out almost anything in the house, i just want the yellow couch.” Lauren said irritated.

“That’s not even true! We’ve done half half plus the couch is like a big deal, we can’t just buy one that doesn’t match anything Lauren.” you started to get a bit angry at Lauren. Why couldn’t she get that the couch would look so ugly with the rest of your furniture.

“Whatever.” Lauren said coldly and walked out of the front door.

You knew she went to your sister, she always goes to your sister. But right now it seemed like the right move, Lauren was never so upset about anything and it bothered you that you were the reason.

It was 10pm and Lauren still wasn’t home. The argument was really getting to you. You had texted Lauren about ten times but she didn’t answer any. Was she really that mad at you?

You just needed to know Lauren was okay and safe so you texted your sister.

you

is Lauren with you? You don’t have to tell me anything, just wanna know if she’s safe

charles #2

yeah, she’s safe

You texted ‘i love you’ to your girlfriend. That was really all you needed before you went to bed.

You woke up at 2am by your bedroom door opening. You turned your bedside lamp on and rubbed your eyes to your girlfriend standing in the door opening. Lauren held a bouquet of flowers in her hands and a little sad smile displayed on her face.

Looking at the ground Lauren broke the silence. “I have flowers for you.. because i’m sorry. I don’t want to fight. You can have your couch if you want.” your girlfriend apologised.

There grew a little smile on your face too. “Thank you Lau, i’m sorry too. Come cuddle with me please.” you asked her with your best puppy eyes.

The English forward gave in and crawled into bed with you. You clicked the light off and Lauren spooned you from behind, her face in your neck and your limbs tangled into each other.

You let out a happy sigh and closed your eyes.

“Do you really not want the yellow couch though?” Lauren asked tiredly.

“No baby, we can do something colourful just not yellow, okay?” you tried to negotiate with your girlfriend.

“That’s okay. I love you.”

“I love you too Hemps”

lauren_hemp, y/ncharles

liked by keirawalsh and 71.725 others

happy wife happy life

comments

niamhcharles17 happy to be your relationship therapist 😘

↳ y/ncharles knew i chose the right sister, she even came home with a bouquet of my favourite flowers

↳ niamhcharles17 you didn’t exactly choose me but yeah what can i say, best sister of the year award incoming??

↳ lauren_hemp stop bragging

leahwilliamsonn who’s your interieur designerrrr

↳ y/ncharles all me and a tiny bit hempo

↳ leahwilliamsonn when can i hire you

esme.morgan love birds 🦢

citysfaves11 they’re soooo cutee

l1ionnesses2022 best football couple

#niamh charles #niamh charles x reader #lauren hemp #lauren hemp x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #engwnt #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso

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choppeddreamworm · 2 months

Text

Clashing Interests

Friends to lovers! Captain Hook x fem! reader

Summary: you wanted to catch a certain prince’s attention. Knowing he found swords interesting you decided to sword duel practice before trying to impress him. Who else to ask than your pirate friend, the famed captain of the Jolly Roger. He must be well adversed in swords to defend his ship no?

Warnings: teasing, flirting, a little spice (NO SMUT, just lingering touches, body descriptions and intense kiss ), slight jealous! Hook, Blood, Mention of injury, A little Angst with a little fluff to compensate, Experienced!Hook, Unexperienced! reader, wallflower & Book worm! reader

Word count: 4.4k ( proofread )

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Authors note: I thought this would only be 2k words but I just cant help but add over explanation to characters feelings (its a curse fr). I'm Sort of new to writing that might be why but ANYWAY I hope you my little birdies enjoy. Remember I welcome criticism not rudeness!

I really enjoyed writing this for yall :)

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Would you go out of your comfort zone to impress someone? Or go the extra mile, changing yourself to fit their ideal girl? No, is what the answer should be but you find yourself doing exactly that these days. Whether it be changing the way you laugh, walked or the way your clothes laid on your skin. Hook took notice, but decided to not bring it up since they were minuscule changes until you asked him to show you how to sword fight. He didn't want to think of you as less but you were a goody-two shoes, let alone a small bodied goody-two shoes at that.

"I'm sure the weight of the sword itself will defeat you before I even draw my sword lass", he easily dismissed your inquiry, closing his locker and starting to walk off. It wasn't such an odd situation, you bothering him during class exchanges. So in true annoying princess fashion you followed after hook. "Please you're the only person that's good with swords that I know of", you may be friends but that didn't stop him from taking a jab at you whenever presented with the opportunity. He was a villain after all. "I'm the only person you know", a small snort followed after his words making you roll your eyes. Yes you were much of a wallflower which made having friends hard but his hurtful words bounced off you completely. In some odd way you had grown immune to his insults. You grabbed at his arm before he could get lost in the seas of people passing by. "You still owe me for the homework answers I passed", you whispered yelled at him, finally getting his smoky black lined eyes to look at you. Seeing him not budge you let out small pleads, forcing him to respond "What even peaked your interest in swords? I thought books were the only thing you were capable of carrying", he arched his eyebrow while his voice took more of a serious tone, his eye darting from the book in your hand then to your face. A light heat of embarrassment settled in your neck, subconsciously you tried to hide the book behind you. There was no way you'd tell him your true intentions so you tried changing the subject, your hand grabbing at his coat over his shoulder tighter. In a whiny voice you spoke,"Are you going to help me or not?". Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, he let out a sigh of defeat, " you and me after school at the bridge near the lake, lateness won't be tolerated..". The faux expression you held on dropped, a bright smile taking over as you squealed, "thank you, thank you so much!". Your noises died down as you noticed hooks grim face caused by you still not letting go of him. You muttered a small sorry fixing the crumbled fabric, but immediately mocked a salute. "But yes! Aye aye captain".

You didn't have a high status or many friends at the Merlin Academy, but you were just a girl with a pirate friend and a dream.. you'd make it work.

So you wasted no time, right as the last class of the day was dismissed you scurried around the academy to the outside reaching the little trail that would lead you to the place of hope. Where your future would change and you wouldn't recognize yourself in years to pass. You could already imagine the wedding bells ringing, the dress you'd wear and the look Prince Charming was wearing. Right before leaving the school grounds you went pass a few royal girls, they whispered amongst each other, laughing and huddled up. You couldn't help but stare at them, feeling a tug at your heart from the presentation. A female friend was something you needed Even if it sounded cheesy, someone to share your secrets with, talk about boys while getting manicures would do wonders right now.

Your day dream was broken when one of them looked up, locking eyes with you before scrunching her eyes in a disgusted manner. You instantly looked away, deciding to keep walking instead. An obnoxious laughter filled the air, one you could only guess came from the girls, you were tempted to look back but you knew you'd be hurt by the outcome, so you chose against it. Girls like that always clinged around the prince you were doing all of this for. If they didn't pay you any mind how would he? That's how you knew your changes had to amount to something. Instead of getting your hopes down you used it as reinforcement to look forward to the sword lessons with Hook.

Continuing upon the pathway you were tempted to get caught up on the flowers, possibly even taking some. But, there was no time to waste, a girl that wants to marry a prince doesn't have time for pointless hobbies (you definitely stopped to smell them). The view you had of the lake while on the bridge was beautiful, an opportunity you couldn't deny yourself no matter how much you yearned for change. "Times ticking darling~", you heard that thick accented voice yelling. Not far from you was Hook sitting on a giant rock in-front of the white columns that worked together to create a small circle behind him. Your mouth couldn't help but stretch into a smile, one that had been gone since earlier in the trail...

James watched you skip towards him, even in your haste you still watched your step, your hands out like a little royal.

Finally in-front of him he stood up, grabbing one of the swords he had brought with him, "first things first you've got to get rid of that," he signaled to your back pack which you immediately put down next to the only other thing there, the extra sword. Hook never cared to actually bring stuff to school, to him this was a really long boring vacation. You were convinced his locker was storage and not for academic things. While turning back to face him you realized he ha'd gotten extremely closer to you,"And that hair of yours". Your heart couldn't help but skip a beat as he inched his hook close to your face. That was definitely a reasonable bodily human reaction.

His Hooked hand gently pushed a few wild strands of hair behind your ear, while looking into your eyes. You reactively took a few steps back, hands nervously starting to collect your hair, "yeah, yeah i got it". One thing about villains was their inability to care, thats what your parents made you believe at least but gosh was it far from it. James tried not to look bothered by your indirect rejection to his advancements, clearing his throat instead. He explained how it was best to start with teaching you the basics, stance, grip and balance. So he did with many ridicules may you add, then when he finished explaining he let you hold the sword which was to say the least true to his tease, hard to carry. There was a light joke that left his mouth about you probably reconsidering taking on this new hobby that just struck a cord inside you."-no! I... I want this okay," noticing your little outburst he sarcastically put both hands up, "ease off lassie I just thought books were more of your thing". Your desperation couldn't help but turn into anger. His jabs never affected you but it must've been that same feeling earlier in the trail starting to cloud your thoughts and keeping you on the edge that made you react (def not your growing identity battle).. He had always been your friend but did he think of you the same way those other royal girls did?"your not taking me seriously hook". you growled only earning a laugh from him at your failed "intimidation" attempt . He was used to your Agressive gushes they he found the endearing.. "Maybe i shall go fetch some flowers to calm you-". His teasing words died in his throat when he saw you walking over to your backpack that romance book you would spend hours explaining to him during lunch or after class now in your hand. "What are you doing?", then with a grunt you flung the book towards the lake.

Due to the hard cover it didn't last long in the air, gravity making it meet the water with a splash, the beauty of its pages now soaking up the water surrounding it. Hook never was a fan of reading or books for that matter, but he couldn't help but feel a light pang in his heart. You had spent hours annotating it, personalizing the book cover and even forced him to sign it.

He had suspected some boy had probably caught your attention due to the tweaks you made to yourself and your schedule here and there. But, Sword fighting and now discarding your favorite book, even for him as a villain this seemed wrong and he knew who it was.No one deserved your devotion especially that stuck up prince. "we can continue now," you walked back to your spot, trying to distract yourself, from the courage getting rid of your book took by perfecting your stance once again. He wasted no time, he didn't sulk instead made contact with your sword harshly. A loud clash permeated through the calm forest. "hey!" you to tried your hardest to collect yourself, the force of his sword disrupting your balance. "An opponent won't wait for a count start," did he feel bad, maybe a little but you were so adamant on being different you'd have to face the reality of hardship. He was a fool to think you'd want to learn one of his specialties in the name of spending time with him.. you were just friends.. nothing more

Your breaths start to grow irregular as you tried to keep up with his attacks, you timed his sword pushing forward at an open window leaving him what you thought was vulnerable. In reality, It was an aimless move one he didn't skip on to criticize you, simply stepping out of the way he lead you to your fall. With nothing to push back on you fell face first on the ground, your sword clinged on the floor gently a direct comparison to your harsh contact on the dirt.

He walked over to you not even trying to help you up,"Remind me this little ordeal is for what exactly again, attention?". A familiar colored fabric dropped in-front of you. It was your skirt that went over shorts, he must've tried stopping your fall but in your head he was using it as a prize to flaunt . Your eyebrows scrunched at his words, using the small adrenaline rush you pushed yourself up. "I didn't know you'd be so adamant on changing yourself," you brushed the dirt off your face trying to not let Hook get a rise out of you. But when you picked up your sword, his words struck a nerve, "especially over some stupid prince". You lifted your sword being the one now to initiate the attack again, he swiftly blocked it instead forcing you to hold a defensive position close to his face, "you don't know me". It was stupid for you to spit those words out because out of every student in Merlin Academy.. even your parents, he was the one who understood you the most. Your words didn't hurt him, they offended him, you couldn't possibly have the nerve to insinuate otherwise? He pushed you back with his sword resetting you to a neutral stance. "you're right i don't ..i'm just the only person who knows that you probably stopped to smell some flowers on your way over here and don't want to marry for status you just wish for a sappy love like those romance books you spend reading day in and night out," with every point he got across he pressed forward with a strike.He pushed you to see the idiocy that was, changing your whole being for someone that might not even appreciate you for you in your totality. A blush snuck up your cheeks mid battle making your defense faulty. Seeing the way your arms wobbled he stopped, laying his sword back to his side taking strides to be in-front of you. "so i guess you are in a way right princess, I don't recognize this lass in front of me..", his breath hit your face. You allowed him to say these words to you, looking up at him with now glossy eyes. His jaw clenched seeing your pitiful expression, he wasn't one for knowing to comfort so instead of saying something else to you he turned around.

Your heart had never beat out of its chest like this, even when charming looked you in the eyes or the very few times he had talked to you. The heat creeping into your body like slow poison, being one you had associated with the popular boy never another person... especially your friend.

He was being cruel... taunting you with possibly having feelings for him and your inability to woo your royal prince. It wasn't fair.

The frustration made you charge forward with a yell , a rule he didn't follow himself in this moment, "never turn your back on your enemy". Something that had been engraved in his brain since birth. He didn't expect you to ever cause harm, you'd always cry over an ant being stepped on. But when he turned back around to face you he was lucky to catch your sword with his hook. The motion of you slashing downward in a perfect angle made him hiss, his eyes watched you put your sword back down, then to his arm. Right above where his hook ended was a gash not deep enough to need immediate attention but deep enough for that irony red substance to start seeping out. Your eyes widened, the anger you had fleeing, concern now replacing it due to seeing the red being soaked up by his ripped coat and white shirt arm. Desperation seeped from your words, "-James! I'm so so sorry please you have to believe me i..." his lighthearted sadistic laugh caught you off guard. He actually quite enjoyed the altercation you had created, maybe he was wrong to underestimate his dainty princess friend. "how the tides turned," he muttered like it was a revelation under his breath. You were so sweet though, leaving your weapon on the ground to make sure he was okay, while he took his coat off, dropping it near you back pack. "If we go back to my dorm, I have- I have an aid pack or if you prefer i know where the nearest first aid kit is at school-" while your hand came up towards his injured arm to hold it, his other free hand came up to grasp yours. In a quick motion he spun your around, your back now on his chest. A light gasp left your lips as his hook came dangerously close to your throat. " Duels not over yet love," his husky voice made you straighten your posture. His other hand laid gently on your hip his cold rings creating a delicious contrast against your skin that was exposed. James slowly led you to the small dock near the area you had been fighting in. You new he'd never hurt you but the light doubt made it weirdly exciting. " Should i make you walk the plank as revenge for the wound hm~,' His breath cuddled the shell of your ear, his hook gently tapping the underside of your chin, making you experience a light jolt of electricity travel through your body. Then his demeanor changed with a joke " Or for choosing the most horrendous fish in the whole wide sea?". This time you couldn't help but grin at the jab he took at prince Charming.

"Go on then," he gave you a slight push forward, the threat of his hook on your jugular no longer existing. You stumbled regaining yourself, taking steps to reach the top of the relatively short dock. You hesitated, your own reflection staring back at you,"Ive heard It helps if you take off your shoes". His sarcasm made you lightheartedly roll your eyes nonetheless listening to him you took off your favorite shoes tossing them to a catching ready hook. This offered you time to admire him, the way his white shirt highlighted his light muscle while he stretched down. Now seeing your pirate friend in a new light. He had always put up with your odd hobbies even if he had acted annoyed at times, he still endorsed them. The lingering touches and eyes like earlier when he pushed your hair back...

You had to catch yourself, feeling that crimson red fight up your cheeks once again, now understanding its real implications. "do you need a bit of encouragement princess?" The overused nickname along with the way he strutter over to you playfully lifting his hook made your heart stutter inside your chest. Your widened your stance, noticing in the process of setting down your shoes he had taken his off to. To be completely honest you didn't know how to swim properly, "i don't know how to swim hook so you better not!". You giggled knowing he was either going to push you or pick you up and throw both of you in. "I know, thats why its even better," He growled. Lucky for you he made a senseless attempt to rush you, using a move from his book like earlier you simply moved away, leaving you perfectly watching his body make a big splash standing unharmed. Similarly you couldn't help but laugh and mock him, " hows that for walking the plank!". Your cackles died down once the ripples on the water came to a halt and yet no pirate emerged. The air had grown silent, you called out his name but got nothing in return. Doubt started trickling in your brain, did he know how to swim? Maybe he had been cursed like you with the inability to tread water... but he always bloated about his adventures at sea. Even saying he wrestled a crocodile once (he definitely did not).

You kneeled over the edge of the dock, maybe you'd catch a glimpse of him in the water if you got closer. How could the famed captain of the Jolly Roger have such a strong weakness? Answer was he didn't, before you could react something snatched your wrist from the dock. There was no time to even let out a scream before your body was enveloped in the cold water. The courage to even open your eyes underneath the lake no where to be found, too focused on holding in your breath. Your hands started flailing, successfully taking you upward to let your nostrils be greeted with sweet air, but not to keep you afloat. Before you could start panicking again a pair of arms wrapped around you gently, turning you around, "calm.. ease up darling don't kill both of us,". Finally having something to wrap around, your gasps for breath came to an end.The secure hold of your hands on Hooks neck and legs subconsciously wrapped around his waist let your body ease. He watched as you assed the somewhat murky water before turning to look at him. Both of your eyes locked, you could see his eyeliner starting to smudge, the black stone earrings he always wore that you only ever saw from afar and his small birthmarks. One on his upper lip, the other on his right cheek.

The proximity and position didn't help the growing tension. "Thats a very dangerous look lass," his voice grumbled entrapped by the longing held in your orbs. He was right, he had only ever been your friend maybe he was thinking of the consequence this situation you were in could bring. But to him he wasn't referencing the outside people, he did not care for their opinion. Instead he was talking about himself.

If you were in his hands and looking at him like you would jump off a ship in the middle of the sea if he asked you to, he would not be able to help himself. Your parted lips were basically begging for him to meet them. "I've reconsidered what you said.." your breathy voice brought his eyes back up to yours. He felt your thumbs tapping the skin around his neck nervously provoking that cocky smirk. "and that is?," you munched on the inside of your mouth, letting your left hand leave the hold on his neck sand trace his arm down to his hook, "Im letting the fish i desperately wanted off the hook-". A sudden swish of water created by hooks hand cringing, made you immediately stop your metaphor and shoot your hand up. Seeing a bit of that red substance on your fingers, the rest probably taken by the water itself and hearing the groan James tried to hide inside his throat made you comprehend. "I'm sorry i was just trying to, i thought it would've been funny if when i said that-id touch your hook, please forgive me James!" he heard you descend onto madness even using his birth given name. "its alright," he muttered still trying to get over the pain your fingers incited by touching the fresh wound. But you still kept at it, tugging your hair strands nervously. Thats when he decided his free hand would take one of your cheeks in its palm redirecting your attention at him. His rings caressed your skin perfectly, "I've already found it in my big villainous heart to forgive you". You grew quiet sharing a small laugh along with him yet still weary. Before he could take his hand off, you raised your own smaller one entrapping it, surprising the flirtatious pirate. you inched impossibly closer, enough to see the veins in his beautiful eyes sitting right above his thick bottom lashes. In response he grazed your face with his eyes, an unfamiliar rattle of anxiety traveled his nervous system, is this what all those romance books you read talked about when finally kissing the romantic lead? You weren't his first kiss, that was obvious with his comfortability flirting, yet he didn't understand this pit feeling in his stomach.

His breath slightly hit your upper lip making a light shudder leave yours in response. Your whole life you'd thought when the moment came, you'd realistically wait for the boy to kiss you. Never thinking you'd come across a moment so right. So perfect. The thought of prince charming, morals and rules left behind. You had never done this before, James knew so he let you make the decision of letting your lips come crashing down on him... and down hard. Hook was a bit taken back, the strength of your kiss pushing his head backward slightly but he tried his best to reciprocate. Your inexperience was obvious but he relished in it.

A few voices in the distance cut your moment short, both of you parting and turning your heads to the bridge. Your pulse skipped a beat recognizing the same girls who laughed at you in the trail, seeing the fear in your eyes hook started slowly swimming towards the shallower end of the lake taking you with him. Understanding the implications of being seen in this exact position with you could hold. Implications you weren't forced to put up with just because he was a villain and the fact you could still save your chance with that prince of yours. He didn't want to deprive you of that ability," we should probably.." he started but you disagreed, muttering a small no. The girls already saw you as less for being yourself, never did you care for anyone else's opinions until your eyes started being set on prince Charming. He wasn't at fault, it was yourself, you started realizing you had been looking at this all wrong. "kiss me," it left your lips so easily, "are you sure?", hook was tempted to ramble but when he heard you beg he couldn't help himself. In comparison to the forceful kiss you gave, his lips met yours gently his free hand holding your neck and some of your jaw. The act of his hooked arm pushing you into him made the butterfly feeling described in your books start to emerge. You let him lead you, his kiss becoming more feverish by the second. Then his ringed fingers left your side for a moment, leading the idle digits of yours located around his neck to the back of his head instead. Subconsciously you dug them into the strands you had always admired, unknowingly to you serving as leverage to deepen the kiss. Your body felt trapped in his being. You never wanted to let go.

His lips and yours stretched when the forgotten girls in the bridge gasped, probably gossiping about the most outrageous scene in-front of them. "Cheeky royal putting on a show for them," he muttered against your lips in a purr. You leaned your head back allowing both of you to breathe, "Your the one who was kissing me". His fingers crawled up your neck taunting you before they reached your face, his thumb dragged provocatively over your bottom lip. Being under his gaze made you shudder lightly, the temperature of the water not helping. "if it weren't for your begging we wouldn't be here my little vixen," he playfully threw the nickname out, making you sheepishly grin. You started letting go of him slowly, seeing that fake predatory look on his face start to appear. "You look exceptionally Ravishing my sweet, " He flashed his teeth then pounced on you. Your feet softly met the banks of the pond, jesting back at him"no get away from me you beast!'.

Whilst you both laughed splashing water on each other you couldn't help but let your heart warm. You'd definitely hear an earful from your parents. Those girls would definitely spread their new found information around like wild fire.

Alone with a villain inside a body of water would definitely tint your reputation enough to not let you get charming.. or any prince for that matter. But maybe this whole time you were focused on the wrong, "self conceited" boy in the Merlin Academy. He was much closer than you initially thought and you didn't have to go change yourself inside out, He already appreciated you as you are <3

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#descendants x reader #descendants #descendants rise of red #captain hook #captain hook x reader #descendants 4 #james hook #james hook x reader #prince charming #disney descendants

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nkjemisin · 27 days

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Hello NK Jemisin! I'm a huge fan of yours, and I wanted to thank you for writing all of the books you've written, and doing all that you do. You're really awesome and you are doing important work! :) I had a long question, if you have time to answer! What's your commentary on creating fantasy cultures, using real ones as inspiration? You've done this before in your stories, and I wanted to know if you had any guidance on doing it well. I'm writing my first novel right now (fantasy!) and am dealing with a surprising amount of guilt regarding using real cultures as a basis for my fake ones. On one hand, I want to create a really unique fantasy world, not the bog-standard European stuff. It's not only more interesting to me, but I also admittedly want to use my story to help introduce people to concepts that might be helpful in the real world, help readers understand what these real people go through and perhaps inspire change. On the OTHER hand, I don't know if it's 'my place' to do so (I'm Black btw, but I'm not just writing about Black-coded fantasy characters). And I'm worried about representing people in a harmful way, even if it's by accident. I'm even hung up about names! Should I use names from real languages related to the cultures I'm inspired by, or should I just make them up to emphasize that, while yes these people are clearly inspired by real cultures, they are ultimately *their own* thing. I'm really conflicted on this and am hoping you can offer some feedback and/or commentary. Sorry for the long ask. Either way, have a great day and I look forward to whatever work you do next!

If I can rephrase what you're saying here, it sounds like you're concerned about cultural appropriation -- specifically, which cultures you get to "borrow from" and "remix," how much remixing you can do before you've done damage, how to depict people from cultural backgrounds other than your own, etc.

If that's what you're asking, then there are whole schools of thought on how to "appropriate appropriately." A lot of thinking on this has evolved in the past few years, for good and for ill; Own Voices, for example. (The short version: the Own Voices hashtag movement started as a grassroots attempt to get marginalized voices telling the stories of their own cultures, because there's been a nasty trend of only white/Western/Anglophone/etc. authors publishing books about those cultures. The problem? Some publishers and readers started acting as if marginalized writers weren't allowed to do anything but stories in their own cultures -- a restriction, instead of an inclusion/correction. Worse, publishers, etc started using it as a marketing shorthand, in ways that were just... not good. They made it weird, basically.) But I'm still fond of the approach that's in Writing the Other, by Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward. It's centered on ethnicity/race, but a lot of its approach can be extrapolated to culture. There's too much good stuff in this book to summarize it easily, but you should read it instead of a summary anyway -- it's short.

I don't see the point of guilt, when it comes to something like this. Guilt is what you feel when you've done something wrong, and admiring another culture enough to want to tell a story featuring it isn't wrong. However, there are things you need to do -- research, conversations, considerations of power dynamics -- to reduce the harm you might end up doing by telling that story as an outsider. And note that no matter what you do, though, you might still end up doing harm. (Even people writing about their own culture can end up doing that.) If you fuck up, apologize, figure out what went wrong, and try to do better next time. That's really all you can do.

And then write whatever the hell you want. There's a persistent pressure on Black writers to only cover certain subjects, certain settings; nah. We get to have range, too. You've just got to put in the work to do it well.

Good luck.

#answered asks

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irisintheafterglow · 2 months

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heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: sabrina carpenter - "please please please"

summary: a school assignment leads you to team bofurin. a chance meeting in the cafe leads you to umemiya. where else will furin high lead you over the course of 5 days?

wc: 7.5k (lord have mercy)

cw/tags: umemiya hajime x gn journalist!reader, strangers to lovers, swearing/explicit language, brief canon-typical violence, blood, and peril, angst/fluff and injury hurt/comfort, ume's a gentleman but that gets tested lol

note: friends this is the longest thing i have ever posted here and i was really debating not posting it because i didn't like how it was turning out, but then i just pushed through the rest of it...and it became 7 thousand words.....ANYWAY really hope you enjoy !

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <33

— Day 1 of 5: “Please, please, please // Don’t prove I’m right”

A glass bottle shatters on the sidewalk below you, shadowy figures scattering into dark alleyways like rats. You grimace at their sadistic laughter and silently thank your host for not living on the ground-level. The sound of a shaking spray paint can echoes in the empty street and you watch a messy hot pink insignia appear as it's drawn on a shop window. Damn. This was going to be a long five days.

“Wait, you want me to do what?”

“You’ll be staying with a high school friend of mine who owns a store in the area,” your journalism teacher continues, quickly scanning over a student’s document and grading it without blinking. She swipes to the next document, mechanically repeating the same process of grading it and moving on. She doesn’t stop to see the shock on your face.

“Ma’am, I don’t know–”

“You’ll be fine, just stick to the populated areas and don’t go out at night. If you want to, you could even befriend some of those Furin kids,” she says as she absentmindedly clicks away at her keyboard. “It’ll be good for you to report on something other than the mathletes team, for once.” At least the mathletes are safe, you think to yourself. A little awkward, but nowhere near the delinquents at Furin.

“Hold on, may I ask why I’m the one doing this?” You wring your hands nervously, glancing at the afternoon sun sinking outside the classroom window. “I don’t understand why you’re asking me–”

“You want the full-ride scholarship, don’t you?” Her eyes are beady through the thin rims of her glasses. You fight the urge to shrink away from her piercing gaze, one that you never become accustomed to no matter how many times you’re subject to it. “Trust me when I tell you that the judges will not care how many times the mathletes lost, no matter how eloquently you write about it.” You let your skepticism show on your face.

“But they’ll care about a bunch of boys that get into fights every day?” If she cares about your deadpanned comment, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

“My friend told me once or twice that there’s more to those Furin boys than meets the eye,” she says before turning back to her screen. Your confusion is still obvious, but the only help your teacher gives you is an indifferent shrug. “It’s up to you. But if you want a competitive edge, you need to take more risks.” You exhale, weighing your options and ultimately deciding that your career was more important.

“When do I start?”

You begin your morning early on your first day in Makochi. After leaving your host’s apartment and staring at the graffiti-covered high school that was drowning in plant overgrowth, you abruptly turned on your heel and decided to observe the people on the busiest street. You had no interest in exploring Furin High School itself, only the effects of crime and constant fighting on the uninvolved citizens. You catch a group of boys wearing black jackets heading in the same direction as you and duck into the nearest cafe, hoping to wait them out and watch how they interact with the town. Across the street, the owners of the shop that was vandalized with the pink insignia scrub the paint from the glass.

“Good morning.” A girl with short brown hair greets you behind the counter, gesturing for you to take a seat on one of the stools. You thank her and set your notebook down next to you, flipping through the menu when you feel her staring at you. “Are you new here?”

“I’m in town for a few days,” you reply. Her demeanor is friendlier than you would expect from an area that sees so much violence. “I’m from one of the neighboring high schools.” The girl nods, placing a cup of water in front of you, along with a set of chopsticks.

“Are you visiting family? We don’t get many visitors here, so I’m just wondering what a new face is doing in town,” she says, nodding when you point at the menu item you want for breakfast.

“No family here; I’m actually studying the town for an assignment. My teacher thinks that if I write about this town, it’ll help me get a scholarship.” Her mouth opens in an ah of understanding and she ducks into the refrigerator to retrieve some eggs. An idea pops into your brain and you open your notebook. “While I’m here, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Furin High?”

“Sure. Bofurin members eat here all the time.” Your eyebrows draw together and, unlike your journalism teacher, she understands and addresses your lack of knowledge. “Bofurin is the team that protects this town. It’s made up entirely of students at Furin High School. Actually, it’s a little funny that you stopped into here today, of all places, since–”

“Kotoha!” The door flies open and the same group of boys that were behind you on the sidewalk corral into the cafe, the space suddenly too small for the number of people present. The source of the voice, a tall guy with bright white hair and coattails attached to his jacket, approaches the girl behind the counter with a blinding smile. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” Kotoha deadpans, sending you a sympathetic look as more boys file into the cafe. “I was gonna say that you chose the one day Umemiya treats all his underclassmen to breakfast. Umemiya’s the leader, the tall idiot I was just talking to.” You grimace and begin to jot down what little information you’d learned about Furin, covering the side of your face with your hand and hoping none of the students question why you were there. It’s wishful thinking, unfortunately.

“Oi.” You’re snapped from your brainstorming daze by a boy whose hair and eyes were two different colors. He was watching you write like you were plotting how to demolish the high school and you curse your luck for the millionth time that you picked the one cafe the Bofurin team frequented. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“Sakura, you can’t just say that to strangers. Tell them you’re sorry,” Kotoha, the girl behind the counter, chides. The boy’s cheeks turn pink and he turns away, muttering what sounds like a half-assed apology to you. “Don’t mind him,” she says to you with a warm smile. “He’s terrible around new people.” Sakura’s face twists into indignation.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. You got into a fight on your first day here, and school hadn’t even started yet,” points out another student with blonde hair sitting next to a boy wearing dangling earrings and an eyepatch. You’re quick to write down anything and everything you were hearing, picking up pieces of conversation from the tables around you. “Hey, what are you writing?” The question doesn’t come off as accusatory, but you shut your notebook anyways and guard it like a treasure chest.

“It’s nothing. Just homework,” you force out.

“Homework,” the boy with the eyepatch echoes. “So, you live around here?”

“They go to a neighboring highschool,” Kotoha explains before you have the chance to speak. “They’re actually here to study Bofurin.” All three boys turn to you expectantly, as if you were going to interview them on the spot.

“I’m just here to observe,” you say quickly, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’m not here to interfere or get in your way or anything.”

“Who said you would be getting in the way? I’m sure Umemiya wouldn’t mind–”

“I wouldn’t mind what?” You jump, the same guy that called Kotoha’s name upon entering the cafe appearing like a ghost between you and the boys you were conversing with. “Have you three ordered yet? You need to eat! We have a big day today,” the person you assume is Umemiya instructs the boys. To your surprise, they’re quick to nod their assent and place their orders. “Good. Now, what was it I wasn’t going to mind?”

“There’s someone here to study us,” the half-and-half haired kid mutters, pointing in your direction. Like before, the two other students scold him for his brashness.

“Don’t say it like that, Sakura.”

“It makes it sound like we’re animals in a documentary.”

“Study us?” Umemiya ignores them and turns to you with a curious look. “Why?” Your face heats and you hastily close your notebook again, hoping that Kotoha would be done with your food soon so you could vacate the cafe and avoid it for the rest of your stay.

“It’s for an assignment for school,” you reply hesitantly.

“You don’t need to be so humble,” Kotoha calls over her shoulder from the stove. “You can tell them it’s for a scholarship.” The three boys next to Umemiya gape at you in awe, but you can’t help feeling the slightest bit embarrassed that you drew so much attention to yourself on your first day in town. You didn’t know much about the Furin boys except for their reputation as fighters, and you expected Umemiya to turn you away and kick you out on the spot.

“I’ll be out of town in a few days, so you don’t need to–”

“You can shadow us.” What the hell did he just say? You blink at him, unsure if you hallucinated his words or if he actually said them. Umemiya’s face suddenly turns a shade redder and he turns to his three underclassmen, whispering uneasily, “That is the term for it, right?”

“I think so,” the blonde one whispers back. “Suo, you’re better with words. What does it–”

“You want them to follow you around and see how you guys work,” Kotoha says as she brings you your meal in a to-go container. “That’s what ‘shadowing’ means.” Umemiya thanks her with a thumbs-up before turning back to you.

“What she said. Come with us as we go through our daily routines so you really understand what we do.” You start to stutter out a list of fake reasons why you couldn’t, something along the lines of getting in their way and needing to take a fish to the veterinarian. Umemiya doesn’t budge and sees through your nerves like glass. “You won’t be inconveniencing us at all, I promise. If anything, it’ll be good for more people to have an understanding of Bofurin.”

“Yeah. If you just watch us from the outside, your writing’s not gonna be any good,” Sakura says bluntly. The two boys next to him flinch and cover their faces.

“You should stop saying things like that, Sakura,” the boy with the eye-patch warns.

“Like I said,” Kotoha mumbles in passing. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just like that.”

“So, what do you say?” Umemiya grins at you in a way that unwillingly makes your heart rate increase and, before your mind knows it, you’re nodding in agreement and he settles on the stool next to you. “Great! Before we start, do you mind if I ask you about yourself?”

— Day 2 of 5: “I know I have good judgment // I know I have good taste”

It’s 7:00 am when Umemiya appears outside your door.

“Good morning! Did you sleep well? I know yesterday was a lot, so hopefully we didn’t scare you too badly.” You rub your eyes and manage to give him a sleepy ‘good morning,’ trying to shake off the exhaustion after running around the previous day with Bofurin. The moon was hanging high by the time Umemiya dropped you off at your host’s apartment and you thought you were hearing things when he said he’d be back in the morning to pick you up. “We’re not gonna have time to stop by the cafe, so I picked up something for you to eat.” You open the small paper bag he hands you to find a pastry wrapped in a napkin, slightly squashed from the walk. “Do you have everything?”

“Yes, I do. This is really nice of you Umemiya,” you say as you fall into step next to him. He shrugs and waves you off, but you catch the self-confident upturn at the corner of his mouth. Why you were staring at his mouth in the first place could not be waterboarded out of you.

“Don’t mention it. What’d you think of yesterday? Oh, wait. Let me take this from you so you can eat.” Before you can stop him, he reaches over and carefully slides the strap of your bag from your shoulder and hoists it onto his. Surprised, you thank him again, something that you found yourself doing a lot since you met him. It wasn’t like you were trying to overstate your gratitude, Umemiya just kept doing things for you; on your first day, he did everything from crouching down to tie your shoe to herding you toward the side of the sidewalk, away from the busy street. So far, Bofurin was nothing like you’d previously imagined.

“There’s a lot more structure in place than I thought there would be,” you answer, taking a few bites of the pastry. After Umemiya gave you a proper introduction to first-year class captain (and your self-proclaimed #1 skeptic) Sakura, he also introduced you to Suo and Nirei, the two boys that were with him. The rest of your first day was a flurry of meetings and broadcast announcements from the top of the school, mixed with an unexpected amount of pot transplanting on the roof. “I didn’t realize there would be such a clear hierarchy of power…or a community garden.”

“You thought we were just a bunch of kids who got into fights every day?”

“Yes��wait, no!” Your face burns while you backtrack and try to explain yourself. Umemiya doesn’t hear it and simply chuckles at your slip. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did think you were a bunch of kids that got into fights every day. But,” you pause, taking a look at the pastry in your hand. “There’s obviously more I need to learn.”

“That’s alright,” Umemiya beams. The sun starts to peek over the roofs of the little stores and houses, painting Furin High golden as you approach. “That's why I’m here. Oh, and before I forget, give me your phone.” You watch as he dials his contact information in, even taking a picture of himself for the contact photo. “What do you think?”

“Wow, you look great. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Of course. Now you have a direct line to me in case you ever need anything!” He has a cute smile, speaks an unprompted voice in your head that you’re quick to silence. You’re about to tease him about being so friendly with strangers when you catch sight of a smear of hot pink running across the bricks beside you. Umemiya’s smile fades as you walk past the metal garage door of a food vendor, it too becoming the victim of the same pink marking you saw on your first night.

“That’s the second one I’ve seen now.” His eyes are narrowed when you turn to him. He’s not focusing on what you’re saying; you can tell by the way the muscle in his jaw clenches that he’s running analyses like a supercomputer. “Do you have any idea who’s doing this?”

“There hasn’t been word of a pink team in ages, let alone one that has the audacity to come on Bofurin territory and claim it,” he says quietly.

“They’re trying to take it from you?”

“Keyword ‘trying.’ Doesn’t mean they’ll be successful.” The darkness of his expression disappears in a blink and you’re met with a self-assured grin. “Ah, well don’t worry about it. We handle this kind of stuff all the time,” he reassures you, readjusting your bag over his shoulder and starting again down the sidewalk.

“How often do you deal with stuff like this?”

“Weekly, probably,” he shrugs and you make a mental reminder to write it in your notebook.

“Are people just looking for a fight because you’re the strongest team, or is it something else?” Your mind momentarily brings you back to sitting across from the mathletes team in the school library, giving them food for thought and jotting down their responses. It was a little different, asking questions of Umemiya, but the familiar feeling of seeking answers is comforting muscle memory.

“I don’t have a concrete answer for you, honestly,” he admits. “But, my theory is that people don’t like what we do here. We protect the town and discourage people from doing unethical things. People simply don’t like being told what they can’t do.” You nod, trying your best to remember everything he’s saying. It made sense why smaller teams would want to take down the most powerful team in the area, but the morality side and restricting the actions of others because they harm the townspeople was something you didn’t expect to also play into the situation. “Are you going to interview any other teams here?” You shake your head.

“I wasn’t planning on it. The answers that you’re giving me now are more than I could have hoped for,” you answer and you catch his satisfied smirk out of the corner of your eye. “Do you think I should study other teams?”

“You don’t need to. You fit in better with us, anyway.”

— Day 3 of 5: “Whatever devil’s inside you // Don’t let him out tonight”

Reports of the hot pink marking become more frequent the longer you stay with Bofurin, both for sightings on shop windows and shadows sneaking around alleyways just out of patroller’s lines of sight. The more teams Umemiya sent out to paint over the vandalism, the more sightings increased. To you, it was an indicator of growing tensions between Bofurin and surrounding, envious teams.

To Umemiya, it was Wednesday.

“We have a collaborative meeting with another team, Shishitoren, today,” he informs you on the walk from your host’s apartment to the school, your bag swinging weightlessly on his shoulder. “I’d like for you to join us, but it’s ultimately up to you.”

“Do you have a history with them?” The team leader’s eyes space out and he blinks once, then twice, before coming back to the present.

“Yeah…you could say that,” he chuckles. “Just don’t ask Sakura about his first one-on-one with them. He gets defensive.” You stifle a grin.

“Oh, did he lose?”

“He won, actually,” Umemiya corrects, equally as amused as you, “Which is the part he gets mad about, so you should probably steer clear of the subject all together.” You nod, interviewing Sakura being nowhere in your plans. “Suo and Nirei will be able to give you all the info you need, though,” he says quickly, mistaking your silence for discontent. “And of course, you could always ask me too.” He smiles at you and something in your brain short-circuits.

Ever the professional, you try not to think about how nice Umemiya’s been to you when you arrive at the Ori, headquarters of Shishitoren. Steering away from the run-down screening room, you and Umemiya’s team climb up to the roof, where a group of guys wearing orange baseball jackets are waiting.

“What took you so long? Breakfast is getting cold!” The team’s leader, Tomiyama, leaps from his seat on the ledge and bounds over to Umemiya. “Oh?” He pauses, looking you up and down before smiling brightly at you. “You brought your new friend, Ume!” You wave politely and introduce yourself, a little more relaxed with Umemiya at your side.

“Smart,” comments whom you assume to be the second-in-command, Togame. He moves at a leisurely pace, barely even blinking as he lifts Tomiyama by the collar of his jacket and sets him at the other end of the meeting’s circle. “Our guys have caught at least three of their guys running surveillance on your side. Who knows what would’ve happened if you left your guest at the school alone.”

“Surveillance?” You frown, but Umemiya doesn’t look surprised. “And what do you mean, something could have happened?”

“Rival members follow others around, learning their ins and outs,” Togame tells you. “Essentially what you’ve been doing, but uninvited. They’ve been getting pretty pissy about Bofurin lately, so they might’ve tried to use you as some kind of collateral if they knew Umemiya would be out.” The thought makes you gag, and the same discontent expressions can be found on all the occupants of the roof.

“They’re not very nice, those guys,” Tomiyama pouts. “The ones we’ve questioned wanna take over your side, Ume.” So other teams want to take over Bofurin’s territory more often than Umemiya lets on, you think to yourself. Maybe not even on a weekly basis, but daily.

“Did you let the guys you’ve questioned off the hook? Or you still have ‘em here?” Hiragi asks.

“We don’t have any of them here, no,” Togame replies. “But we have a general idea of how they make their rounds and can probably catch a team or two when they start following Bofurin guys.”

“Great,” Umemiya concludes with a single decisive clap. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

“Alright, field trip time!” Tomiyama’s energy sends him practically bouncing off the walls. You pack up what little things you brought with you to the meeting and are ready to fall into step behind the guys, but Umemiya stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Yo, Kaji.” The lollipop-mouthed second-year pulls down his headphones to listen. “Take them back to the school. Don’t want them there in case things get ugly.” You open your mouth to protest, ready to fire off why it’s important that you see the good, bad, and ugly of Bofurin, but Umemiya silences you with a shake of his head. “Please go. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Why don’t you want me to be there?”

“Like I said, things could get ugly–”

“And,” you cut in, “I’m capable enough to run if I need to. You can trust me to get out of there on my own.” The tone of his reply is soft and patient, like it was for your own good that you didn’t go.

“Maybe next time, okay?” You frown, disappointment twisting in your gut. “I don’t doubt that you can handle your own if things get bad. I just…don’t want you to see it if things get bad.” He runs a hand through his hair and the flex of his large bicep suddenly clicks the pieces of understanding into place. There was a reason why he was the head of Bofurin and respected by all these rowdy team members, whether they were on his team or not. Though you hadn’t seen him fight yet, there was a more dangerous side to Umemiya that existed with the kindness he’d shown you. He didn’t want you there in case things got ugly because of him.

“I–I see.” He nods with a sigh of relief and turns to leave; you pull your arms close to your body at the sudden chill as he walks away. “Umemiya?” He pauses at the doorway, his hand hovering over the handle as he looks over his shoulder at you expectantly. Several things occurred to you to say to them, all of them borderline condescending if he took it the wrong way. Don’t do anything brash. Make sure you come back. You shouldn’t need to use your fists for this.

“Be safe, please,” is what you settle for.

— Day 4 of 5: “Everyone makes mistakes // But just don’t”

You’re past the halfway point of studying Furin High and team Bofurin when Hiragi storms into the broadcast room, grumbling about being out of supplies. Umemiya isn’t worried and reassures his friend that they would have what they were missing by the end of the day. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin was having a significant effect on you, since you volunteer to do the run before anyone else does.

To be fair, you did need to run back to your host’s apartment–who had so graciously started letting Umemiya in while he waited for you to get ready in the morning–because you’d forgotten to drop your notebook in your bag before rushing out the door. The list wasn’t huge, either, and you figured you could do the whole trip in about an hour: painkillers (Nirei misjudged his spacing and accidentally got kicked in the crotch), small bandages (Sakura, self-explanatory), wet wipes (Suo noted how dirty the desks became because of everyone’s shoes), and a few packages of plant food (Umemiya insisted on buying some potted flowers from the vendor on your street).

“Are you sure? One of the patrol teams can pick the stuff up,” Umemiya offers, eyeing you oddly. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin meant you also caught the team’s head staring when he thought you weren’t looking, and then quickly turning away when you looked back. “Or, if you go, let me send one of the class captains with you, just in case. Sakura should be on patrol in the area.” You shake your head and stand up to leave.

“I’ll be fine, Ume, I promise.” The nickname slips out before you can stop it, but he doesn’t seem to notice, eyebrows drawn in concern as he watches the floor. You lightly rest your hand on his shoulder and he snaps out of it, exhaling through his nose before nodding, reluctantly.

“Call if anything happens,” Hiragi grunts before turning to Umemiya. “Hey, weren’t you talking about giving them a–”

“Hiragi, you’re a genius,” Umemiya cuts in and moves to dig through a box at the corner of the room. “Hey, wait,” he says, gently catching your wrist before you’re out the door and pressing a jacket into your hand. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin, and you would know the jacket’s green collar and the insignia anywhere. “No one should bother you if you’re wearing it.”

Ironically, absolutely nothing happens until you’re on your way back from the convenience store. Your host was waiting for you in the living area to give you your notebook, and the store was barely a block away from her apartment. You find the needed items easily, placing a bag of mixed hard candies and a box of new chalk into your basket because you noticed they were running out. It’s a perfect day as you walk back to Furin, all cloudless skies and cool breezes and smooth sidewalks. The Furin jacket fits snugly on your torso, sturdy enough to protect you from the chill in the shade but light enough that you don’t overheat from the sun. It’s nice, something you could get used to.

You don’t realize they’re behind you until it’s too late.

“So, you’re Bofurin’s bitch, huh? Nice to see you in the light.” You stop in your tracks and look behind you to see a dozen guys in hot pink team uniforms you don’t recognize. There shouldn’t be that many of a rival team on Bofurin grounds, right? What the hell were they doing here?

“You gonna say something, or are you stupid as you are ugly?”

“Aww, look at them. They’re shaking and they don’t even know why,” one of the guys in the front sneers. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll give you something to be scared of.” The group starts to approach you and your vision slows like everything was moving through syrup. You catch the symbol on their uniforms, the same one that’s been spray painted on the town’s buildings for the past few days. The encroaching team was trying to take you to get leverage over Bofurin. Not good. Definitely not good.

“Umemiya’s gonna think twice about messing with us after they see how we mess up his little pet!” Umemiya. You need to get to Umemiya. Your senses come back to you like a freight train and you have half the mind to dig your shoes into the street and run.

The rival team shouts after you and the sound of pursuing footsteps thunder down the road. With one hand gripping the plastic bag of supplies, you yank your phone from the jacket pocket and frantically swipe to his contact. Your assailants draw closer and you force more energy into your legs, barely outrunning them by a few seconds. You cut through an alleyway and round a corner, but a dip in the road simultaneously makes you trip, pain shooting through your ankle. Shit! Your finger misses the ‘call’ button on your phone and you tap the ‘send location’ button instead. It’s not what you were going for, but your only options were to stop to properly call for help and get caught or keep running on your tweaked ankle. With the group of guys racing around the corner to catch you, you have no choice but to keep running.

“Get the hell away from me!” You skid to a halt and turn to face the team head-on, your voice unsteady and breathless. You were finally starting to recognize the buildings around you; at the same time, your lungs were aching unbearably. Your pursuers slow to a halt and you’re stuck in a standoff in the middle of the street, the townspeople shutting themselves away in their stores to minimize damage to their own livelihoods. You stumble backward when the team leader steps forward, a cruel grin covering his entire face.

“C’mon now, we just wanna have a little chat with you, you being Bofurin’s newest addition and all.” The men behind him leer at you, swinging their bats and crowbars up onto their shoulders.

“Take one step closer and all of Bofurin comes running,” you snarl, shoving your phone forward, your finger hovering over the ‘send location’ button.

“That’s a whole lotta bullshit spewing out of your mouth, sweetie.”

“Why don’t you shut yours, asshole?” You spit. Sure the phone was a bluff, a last-ditch effort to stall for time.

It didn’t matter.

You knew how quickly Bofurin organized.

As the hot pink leader lunges the remaining distance between you two, he’s knocked to the side by a blur of black, green, and white. Sakura stands up straight, rolls his shoulders, and scowls at you.

“Why didn’t you call us sooner, dumbass?”

“What, you think I wanted to get chased down today?” You meet his attitude with your own irritation and exhaustion. “Why didn’t you get here sooner?”

“Just go somewhere safe, idiot,” he yells, slamming his fist into an attacker’s face. “Your boyfriend’ll be here soon, but we were closer when he messaged everyone!” You don’t have time to think about the idea of Umemiya texting all of Bofurin to descend upon your location.Your glare fades quickly into relief and you step backward as Suo and Kiryu launch themselves into the fight. Kaji and Hiragi rush in within a minute, and you’re spun to face Umemiya before you register that he’s there.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” He searches your face, his anxiety evident. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. They didn’t get me.” Your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your injured ankle, and it panics Umemiya even more. Other Bofurin members enthusiastically join the brawl, but all Umemiya can do is take your hands and scan your body, letting you use him to balance on your good foot.

“They were chasing you? I knew I should have–” You give him a tired smile and pull his face up to meet your eyes.

“I didn’t let them catch me. I’m safe, I promise.” He inhales like he’s about to say something, but his attention snaps behind you, his expression hardening in an instant. He slips in front of you like a shield and brings his forearm up to block the hand that was meant to grab you while you were distracted. He throws the attacker to the ground and it lies still, completely unconscious.

“Hey!” The sound of Umemiya’s voice echoes in the street. The chaos stills, fists suspended in mid air. His eyes that looked so kindly on you darken into shadows, shutting out the sunlight and sending chills down the backs of everyone present. “Not enough to kill…” he orders, securing an arm around your waist and turning you away from the fighting, leaving his underclassmen to finish the job. “But enough.”

You’re a sweating mess and barely able to put weight on your ankle by the time you make it through the doors of Bofurin headquarters. You fall away from his supportive body and your shoulder hits the wall, stars scattering in your vision. Any attempt to drag yourself further, with or without Umemiya’s help, earns you nothing but a hiss and a white-hot flash of pain. Umemiya looks distraught, reaching forward and pulling back with indecisive uncertainty.

“What do you need me to do? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” he pleads with you. “Please, tell me what you need.”

“Water,” you croak, your voice hoarse and tired. “I just–I can’t–I can’t walk well–” Your feet leave the ground before you can comprehend that you’re in the air, Umemiya’s arms effortlessly lifting you and beginning the ascent up the school’s stairs. His body is steady and he barely breaks a sweat, stone-cold determination his only expression. Your decreasing heart rate pounds in your forehead and you squint against the light once he climbs to the roof. He sets you gently on a chair in the shade before retrieving a bottle of water, watching as you take a few sips before kneeling in front of you.

“May I?” You blink, regaining your senses, and realize he’s asking if he can inspect your ankle. You hum, settling into the chair while he carefully rolls up the cuff of your pants. His fingers brushing your bare skin momentarily makes you forget any pain, a shock of lightning shooting up your spine as he swipes his thumb over the front of your ankle. He turns your leg over gently in his hands before deeming it okay. “It’s not swelling, thankfully, so it’s probably just a bad sprain at most.” He exhales, deeply relieved, but continues to run his fingers carefully over the tender area.

“You couldn’t have predicted they would be there,” you say, his thoughts painted all over his face.

“I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles, more irritated than you expected. He’s just mad at himself, not at you, you need to remind yourself.

“You didn’t need to.” Your hand reaches itself out on its own accord, turning his face so you could meet his eyes. “I didn’t get hurt because of you.”

“But you did get hurt,” he mutters, eyebrows drawn the same way as when he was analyzing the pink symbol a few days prior. The cogs in his brain were turning, you could see, but this time there was a lingering sense of shame. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” He shrugs, but you catch the muscle in his jaw relax as his eyes soften. “If that’s not safe, then I don’t know what is.”

“You’re not angry that I wasn’t there sooner?”

“I’m safest when I’m with you,” you state simply, “and you found me at just the right moment. So no, of course I’m not angry with you.” Words slip out of Umemiya’s mouth before he’s able to register that they’re leaving, but he has half the mind to change the middle part of the sentence before he comes off as too overbearing.

“I…care about you, deeply.” You smile, letting him take your hand into his own and press his lips to the inside of your palm.

— Day 5 of 5: “We could live so happily // If no one knows that you’re with me”

It’s 7:00 am and Umemiya isn’t outside your door.

You curl up on your bed and stare out the window, the street below milling with its usual morning business. After he dropped you off the previous night with a curt ‘sleep well’ and a reminder to ice your ankle, you were left in an eerily quiet bedroom while you tossed and turned thinking about the day’s events. A ring of the doorbell sends you hobbling down the stairs and throwing open the front door, only to be met with a very pink Sakura, flanked by Suo and Nirei.

“Don’t go outside today,” Sakura says bluntly. Nirei flinches and Suo’s smile becomes slightly strained, both of them eyeing their class captain warily.

“What he means,” Suo says before Sakura can say anything else, “is that you don’t need to come study Bofurin today.” Your heart sinks. This must have been because of the day prior. He was really mad that you got yourself hurt, huh?

“Don’t look so sad about it,” Sakura mutters, his cheeks turning a slightly darker shade of red. “It’s annoying.” You stutter an unexpected apology and suddenly have the urge to hide back in your room until your train the next day.

“I get it,” you say quietly. “He’s angry with me. Please give him my thanks for the hospitality he’s shown me this week. I’ll be gone by 8:00 tomorrow.” You move to close the door when all three boys practically throw themselves in the way.

“Wait, that’s not what we meant!” Nirei’s eyes are the size of basketballs.

“Please don’t listen to anything Sakura is saying; he has a hard time empathizing with others.” Nirei nods enthusiastically in agreement with Suo, slapping a hand over Sakura’s mouth to prevent the boy from speaking. “Really, that’s not what we mean by saying you don’t need to study us anymore.”

“Umemiya wants you to take the day to rest,” Nirei explains quickly. “He doesn’t think you should be walking to and from the school on your injured ankle.” Your sadness is replaced with indignancy and you cross your arms over your chest.

“He couldn’t have told me this himself?”

“He would, but…” Nirei’s voice trails off and you catch Suo biting the inside of his cheek. Sakura’s the first to break the silence, peeling Nirei’s hand from his face.

“Umemiya and the upperclassmen have been beating the shit out of those hot pink assholes since last night.”

“It must’ve been pretty serious, since he didn’t even allow Suo or Sakura to go with them,” Nirei adds, “And they’re some of the best fighters in our class.”

“How long has he been out?”

“Hiragi said he called them late last night and a small team raided the hot pink team’s base.” That would mean Bofurin raided the base immediately after dropping you off. Why would he hide that from you? “Technically, he said not to tell you because he knew you’d panic,” Sakura continues. “So he sent us to tell you to take it easy. Don’t stab the messengers.”

“It’s ‘don’t shoot the messengers,’ Sakura,” Suo corrects and Sakura shrugs, indifferent.

“And we’re already as good as dead anyway,” Nirei says, his expression dropping. “We weren’t supposed to tell you that he’s been fighting those guys that hurt you.”

“It’s Sakura’s fault for yapping–”

“You wanna fight?”

“What’s done is done, little brothers.” You stiffen, blinking against the morning sun as Umemiya trudges into your vision. His handsome face has seen better days, small cuts and bruises littered all over his skin. He tossed his jacket over his shoulder, revealing the dirtied white shirt that wasn’t stained the previous evening. He rolls a broad shoulder and stretches his neck from side to side, his underclassmen scurrying away as he steps onto the welcome mat. “G’morning,” he greets in a tired voice. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Better late than never,” you deadpan, taking his hand and guiding him inside. “Thanks boys,” you call over your shoulder at the sheepish underclassmen. “I’ll take it from here,” you finish before shutting the door.

“Gotta say, this place looks better when my vision isn’t blurry,” Umemiya jokes with a wince, collapsing into a chair at the dining table. You ignore his attempt at humor, retrieving the first aid kit from the closet along with a rag that you soak with warm water. His eyes are on you as you move about; you feel his gaze burn into the back of your neck.

“If you weren’t already beaten to a pulp, I’d slap you,” you mumble, sitting across from him and gently patting the dried blood from his face.

“And I’d let you,” he manages to smile, never taking his attention away from you. You can’t tell if your face is hot from his intense stare or from the anger bubbling in your stomach. Scooting closer, you start work on the cut above his lip, just missing his nose. “You smell nice.”

“You need to stop talking.” His smile fades only slightly, his eyes ever watchful while you take care of his wounds. You hope he can’t tell how badly your hands are shaking as you tap antibiotic ointment onto his skin and cover it with a bandage.

“You’re upset with me,” he says carefully, observing the way you’re conveniently avoiding eye contact.

“You just figured that out?”

“You gonna tell me why, or are you just gonna keep scowling?”

“This is not how you usually do things,” you say through gritted teeth, gesturing to the evidence of fights all over his body. “You’re diplomatic. You’re understanding. You’re empathetic. You don’t…You don’t solve problems like this!” You don’t realize how loud your voice has become until you register the echo from the empty walls, nor do you realize that you were standing until his eyes were looking up at you.

“How do you know that I don’t do this?”

“Because I watched you this week and I know how you work.” You swallow thickly. “I don’t know why you’d break all of that just because of some hot pink bastards running around your–”

“I did it because of you,” he says. “I did it because they hurt you.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Hajime.” It’s the first time you’d used his first name and something flutters in Umemiya’s stomach. He can’t do anything but stare at you in awe, watching as your emotions start to escape down your face in wet streaks. His body moves on its own, reaching out to wipe your tears to the side and standing so that your chests are nearly touching. His voice is barely a murmur, reserved only for you to hear.

“You didn’t want me to do it?” Both your hearts are racing, slamming against your rib cages.

“If it meant you getting hurt like this, then no.”

“I’d put myself through much worse if it meant you were safe,” he whispers. In this proximity, your anger flies out the window, along with your good judgment. He was so close, you could just–

“What else would you do for me?” His eyelashes flutter against yours.

“Anything.” Umemiya thinks he has a broken rib from how little he can breathe.

“Show me.” It’s like a rubber band snaps between your bodies as he finally leans down to kiss you, molding himself so that you could perfectly melt against him. His grip on your waist is rock-solid, holding you close enough that you feel him shudder when you scratch against his undercut. The sound you make when he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip makes his head go completely empty, the same feeling happening for you when his fingers graze the spot where your neck meets your chin. He kisses you feverishly, refusing to let you breathe until you’re forced to pull away lest you completely lose consciousness.

“Do you always kiss the people you write about?” He winks at you and you roll your eyes, draping your arms over his shoulders.

“Only the ones I fall for,” you whisper back. “I’m still mad at you for ditching me this morning, though.”

“I sent your three favorite underclassmen instead,” he argues but you shake your head, a smile teasing your mouth. “Fine. How can I make it up to you?” You hum thoughtfully, blinking at him in a way that sent Umemiya’s mind into a frenzy.

“Kiss me again and we’ll call it even.”

“Whatever you say.”

— Day [???] of [???]:

He’s waiting for you when you step off the train, a dazzling smile on his face that grows when he sees the certificate awarded to you with your scholarship funds. A dozen captains dot the platform, diligently watching the back of their leader as he brings down every guard he has and catches you in his arms. After enduring Umemiya talking their ears off, the silence that falls over the area as you bask in each other’s presence is enough of a reason to switch formations, allowing you time alone with the one man who would put himself through hell if it meant you were still his.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#windbreaker x you #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker x y/n #wind breaker x you #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x y/n #umemiya x you #umemiya x reader #umemiya x y/n #umemiya hajime x you #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya hajime x y/n #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker angst #umemiya fluff #umemiya angst

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 1 month

Text

Be still, my foolish heart.

Pairing/Au: Soft single dad!Joel Miller x Curvy f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 8816 (I know, I’m sorry 💀)

Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW

Summary: A meet cute at the clinic where you work leads to finding the best date you could ask for… our one and only Joel Miller.

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, meet cute, a little bit of a slow burn, reader is curvy, has breasts and vagina and wears a dress, apart from that no other specific description is given, age gap (reader is 35, Joel is 46), Joel is a single dad and he is soft (what can I say, I’m a sucker for a soft Joel okay), reader doesn’t trust Joel immediately and she thinks he might be dangerous (he’s not, he’s cutest), Sarah is alive and well and she’s mentioned multiple times, mention of Tommy, Joel is a contractor, unprotected p in v (wrap it up IRL, folks!), pussy pronouns, mention of use of oral contraceptives (reader is on the pill), fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), dirty talks, elderly people being fragile and sick, slight mention of Joel’s prescriptions including antidepressant (game Joel took it so I put it in there), I know that prescribing medicine doesn't exactly work like that in America (not even in Italy for that matter) but allow me a poetic license (😂), reader has insecurities about her body, mention of bullying and previous toxic relationships that reader has been subjected to, internal reader’s voice inserts, pet names (pretty lady, good girl, honey, sunshine, baby, babe, angel), squirting (not specifically mentioned but still), Joel is feral and reader too.

I don't think I forgot anything but if I notice it I'll add it right away.

I made a mood board for the first time in my life, I know it's not great but I tried 💀 English is not my first language so please be gentle (I also have Covid at the moment… yeah, it’s 2024 and I caught it for the third time, lucky me), I hope there aren't too many mistakes, no beta so it's all my fault LOL, no proofreading. Title is an Hozier quote. Of course, because I love this man.

Oh sh*t, here’s what I was forgetting: the mirror scene is inspired by Polin (yep, it was a great scene ❤️) but I think I personalized and changed it enough to make it just Joel and reader's, at least I hope.

(Reader works in a clinic because I do this job so yes, she has this thing in common with me besides being curvy. Every time I write a curvy reader is so personal to me)

I might write something else about these two if you like, I really love this pairing and I hope I’m not the only one, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! Thanks to anyone who will read this 💐

You are at your desk, absorbed in an email you are writing to a patient who is asking for prescriptions for medicines. The clinic is empty and quiet and this doesn’t happen often so you’re trying to keep up with emails and messages and phone calls that you have received in the last hour.

Suddenly the door opens and a man enters the clinic, at first you don't even look at him, you just say "Good morning" and continue typing.

He clears his throat and says “good morning” and stops in front of you, on the other side of the desk. He’s clearly waiting for you to shift your attention to him so you turn and look at him. For a moment you’re speechless. He’s a gorgeous man.

Tall and broad, dark hair slightly streaked with silver, strong aquiline nose, beard and mustache framing a pair of plump lips, perfectly designed jawline and neck.

Stunning.

You didn’t expect anyone like this ‘cause really, the doctor you work for has hundreds of elderly patients or families with children and you have never been interested in married men, you don’t even look at them but anyway, you never saw a single person that was attractive to you in this place before.

You smile politely as you ask “do you need anything?” and you want to sink into your seat because you don't even have makeup on and you're wearing the first things you found in the closet this morning. An old pair of jeans and a black top.

“Yes please, I need some prescriptions. I just changed doctor because my previous one is now retired. I always sent an email to his secretary but this is the first time I've asked for my prescriptions here so I thought I'd stop by in person especially since I was in the area. I’m working in the building next door”

Bingo.

That’s why you never saw him.

You quickly look at his hand on the desk for a ring and it’s not there.

His hands are gorgeous though, big strong working and experienced hands.

“Sure, can you tell me your name please?” you ask trying to keep your tone professional while being excited to know more about him.

“Joel Miller” he says and you find the way his tongue rolls up to pronounce the r at the end so delicious it’s almost embarrassing.

For a moment you're almost afraid he might hear your thoughts.

You turn back to the computer typing in his name and a moment later his medical records appear.

46 years old, born in late September, he lives in Austin. You look at his prescriptions and notice a reflux medication, another for high blood pressure, and an antidepressant.

Oh.

What happened to him?

“Well, Mister Miller, what do you need today?”

“You don’t have to call me Mister Miller, even if you’re younger than me I think?”

You look down in bewilderment, not expecting much familiarity from him since it’s the first time you’ve seen him but you answer anyway “Yes, actually. I’m 35”

“So you can call me Joel” he says with a smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth and hopeful eyes of someone who asks not to make him feel old.

“Of course I can” you hurry to answer “So… Joel, what do you need today?”

He gives you a grateful look and replies, “I don’t remember what it’s called but… my medicine for high blood pressure.”

“Oh yes, this one” you nod and proceed to prepare it, “just a moment, Mr Miller… uhm I meant Joel, I need to get the doctor to sign it,” you tell him as the printer gurgles, spitting out the prescription paper.

You stand up from your chair, feeling your legs a little unsteady, and once you’re in front of him his height impresses you even more. He’s imposing, you’re a curvy girl and yet you feel so tiny in front of him.

You notice that he looks you up and down and seems pleased, his eyes reflecting an approval that makes you very satisfied.

You move quickly to the doctor's office, enter apologizing and have him sign the prescription. When you leave you find him standing in front of your desk waiting, he looks at you again and you notice a certain sparkle in his eyes.

"Here you go" you say and hand him the prescription.

You feel his fingers lightly brush yours and a shiver of pleasure runs down your spine.

“Thank you,” he smiles at you, “you are very kind.”

“No problem, have a good day,” and you approach the desk to sit down again. You see him hesitate for a moment, as if he wanted to add something.

“Do you need anything else?” You ask curiously and a part of you really hopes that he will ask you for your phone number or if you want to go get a drink after work.

“Oh no, no thanks, see you next time”

His gaze drops to the floor as he says this, as if he's embarrassed, which you like because it feels like you're not the only one in the room who's been pleasantly shaken up by this encounter.

He puts his hand on the door handle and turns once more, smiling shyly.

You smile back feeling a sense of tenderness so premature that you wonder if you're losing your mind.

You go back to work but all you think about is him, you want to know more.

You enter his name again in the search bar and reopen his folder. Joel Miller. You wonder who he really is and what he does but apart from his pathologies and his date of birth you don't find much else about him. His address is there but you certainly won't use it for unorthodox purposes such as accidentally ending up in his neighborhood, you would pass for a stalker as well as a very unprofessional secretary.

Nothing stops you from noticing that he lives in a very quiet residential neighborhood though.

Will he be married? There are men who do not wear a wedding ring so it might not be safe to rely only on the fact of not having seen it.

You hesitate a bit before doing so because you already feel awkward enough for someone you've only seen once but in the end you type his address in the search bar to see if other people who live with him in the same house appear, usually families tend to have the same doctor for convenience.

You hold your breath as you stare at the white screen waiting and after a few seconds a result appears.

Sarah Miller.

“There I knew it, he’s married” you think, huffing and shrugging, but then you look better and realize that this Sarah is 14 years old. “So… he has a daughter”

No one else showed up in the results so you assume he is not married but he may have been and then got divorced. Unless his wife chose another doctor but that seems very strange to you.

You contemplate trying to Google his name but then decide it's best to wait until you get home, you can't use the work computer for personal stuff.

You sigh and go back to your work, completing your search just a second before the doctor comes out and asks you if you have any urgent messages.

Today everything is strangely quiet though, even if you wasted time looking for information on Joel you finish all the work, not without thinking about him at least once an hour. You feel silly, you shouldn’t have any kind of thought about someone you don’t know and with whom you have only exchanged a few words, the fact that he seemed interested and that he was about to ask something while he was about to leave could also be false projections that you have made in your head. And yet…once home, after taking a shower and putting on clean pajamas, you throw yourself on the sofa nibbling on a sandwich and open your laptop.

You open Google and type his name and the first result that comes up is “Miller - construction company”

It could be him, now that you think about it he mentioned he was working on the building next door which is in fact under construction.

You scroll down to the bottom of the page where the owners are listed and you see two names, Joel and Tommy Miller. You assume that Tommy is his brother. You go back to the Google page for a moment and check if there are any namesakes but no one else in the city has the same name. And just like that, you know what he does.

You don’t think you can do anything with this information, you live in a new apartment and everything is in perfect working order so you just have to wait. Before leaving he said “see you next time”, so now you find yourself wondering when the next time will be. Probably in a month, when he will need a new prescription.

Such a long time. But maybe this will help you, you tell yourself. It's just a passing thing, you tell yourself. You can't be so foolish as to project your fantasies onto him. You decide that this is okay, you'll just get over it.

_____________________

After a week you almost got Joel out of your mind. You worked quietly, met the usual old people who came to the clinic to be examined, no sign of him. You'd be lying if you didn't think about it anymore but you stopped yourself from doing something foolish like contacting him for a fake construction job to try to meet him.

You are preparing some prescriptions when the doctor comes out of the office and asks if you could please take some medicine to the home of a very elderly patient. It is something you usually do not do but the caregiver cannot leave her alone and her son is away for work all week so she had no choice but asking you to do that. It will take up extra time because you will have to go to the pharmacy and then to her house, the doctor offers to pay you overtime but you know the lady and say that it is not a problem, you can do it without compensation.

Of course you can do that for Rose.

When she was better and could move around quite independently you often talked when she came to the clinic, she immediately took a liking to you and treated you like a niece, she would bring you gifts, vegetables from her garden, other times sweets cooked by her.

She is a dear lady, you are happy to be able to do her a favor.

At 5:00 you leave the office and head to the pharmacy, pick up her prescriptions, and get back in the car to drive to her neighborhood.

Rose lives in a nice street with many rather large houses, well-kept gardens and white picket fences.

You knock on the door and Georgia, the caregiver hired by Rose's family to assist her, opens it.

You already know her, she has accompanied Rose to the clinic many times but lately her health has worsened a lot and she can no longer leave the house.

“Hi, Georgia! I I brought Rose’s medicines”

“Hey! How long has it been since we saw each other? Come in!” She says with a big smile.

Georgia is a very sweet person and a great professional, she has taken great care of Rose all these years. She is a qualified nurse and the granddaughter of a long time friend of Rose. Georgia had moved to Texas from Arkansas to attend college and since then she had always lived at her grandmother's house, who lived a few miles from Rose's house.

She took the job because she loved her and when her grandmother passed away Rose was very close to her.

Georgia offers you a coffee and some chocolate cookies she has prepared, which you gladly accept.

You chat a little while Rose is resting and then when it's time to wake her up to take her evening medicine you accompany Georgia to her room to say goodbye to Rose.

She is lying motionless in a bed, now forced to ask Georgia for help with everything, she is almost 85 years old now and you are so sorry to see her like this. Until a few years ago she was an energetic, witty woman, with lots of hobbies, she loved reading, gardening, cooking and going to the movies. Now she was a ghost of herself. And the worst thing was probably that her mind was still working, so she realized what was happening to her and this made her even sadder and more helpless. Her body did not respond, while her mind understood everything.

She recognizes you right away and greets you so sweetly with her now faint voice. It breaks your heart to see her like this.

She asks you for a hug and you put your arms around her little shoulders, holding her gently. She's always been good to you, she doesn't deserve this.

You leave the room, wiping away a tear, without letting Rose see you, and say goodbye to Georgia, promising to come back and visit them soon.

You stand in the driveway feeling helpless for a moment, you would like to do so much more. Some patients have become like an extended family to you, you have known them for years and seeing some of them fold in on themselves, increasingly frail and elderly is so bad.

You look up and see a black pickup truck driving down the road. There’s a man in it and he looks familiar. He pulls into the driveway two houses down and gets out. And oh, shit.

It’s Joel.

Joel Miller.

He lives in the same neighborhood as Rose and you didn’t even registered that in your mind before.

You don't know what to do, whether to get in the car and drive away pretending nothing happened or take the opportunity and go say hello to him.

It seems silly to say hello to someone you've only seen once, no matter how attractive they are. You walk to your car, rummaging through your bag for your keys.

You're about to curse because never once do you find something in your bag, it doesn't even matter what it is. Big bag? You find nothing. Small bag? You find nothing either.

Your eyes move for a moment to the asphalt and you see two boots approaching, you look up again and you see two legs wrapped in dark jeans streaked with paint and of course to those legs is attached the rest of Joel Miller's wonderful body.

Your eyes widen and you watch him stop in front of you, beautiful as a God. Even more beautiful than the first time you saw him.

“Hi! I saw you across the street and I was pretty sure it was you. I almost made a fool of myself, but hey, I was right!”

You lose your words, it's as if they've slipped out of your brain and melted at your feet.

At least you solved a dilemma, he greeted you first.

“Hi” you say shyly.

This doesn't make you any less nervous, you were trying to sneak out of this neighborhood unnoticed and you could say that he ruined everything and you don't know him well enough to know whether to be grateful or keep running away pretending to be very busy.

He has a daughter, a respectable job, a brother, lives in a nice neighborhood, and seems to lead a regular life. Is that enough to trust these days? Probably not.

This dude can be anyone, a serial killer, a criminal, a drug dealer, a thief, whatever.

How do you know he doesn't sleep with a gun on his nightstand or keep dead bodies in his basement?

Trust no one, is something you learned from a very early age and you always stood by it, safety first.

Have you been wanting to see him again for a whole week? Yes.

Did you just realize that you know nothing and that you might be risking something? This too.

“Can I ask why you’re here?” He asks, running his hand through his curls in a way that drives you instantly wild.

God, why is he so gorgeous, this doesn’t help at all.

You can always run to Rose and call the police if he suggests something strange and you’re in the middle of the street in broad daylight so you decide to take the risk and say the truth

“I came to deliver medicines to a lady who lives here” you reply, acting like he doesn’t have any kind of effect on you.

“Oh, so this is something you do? I didn’t know that”

“No, not regularly. I actually did it because it’s Rose, you know. She’s an adorable old lady”

He nods as if he knows exactly what you're talking about and actually says, "Sure, Rose. I know her. She used to babysit my daughter many years ago."

Okay, those are some great credentials. So maybe you can trust Joel Miller? Isn't he a lunatic homicidal? Maybe not.

Obviously you pretend you don’t know anything about Sarah and ask, “Oh really? You have a daughter?” raising your voice in surprise for a better result.

“Yeah I do. She's 14 years old and she's already giving me a hard time, she’s so smart and responsible that she’s basically parenting me” he shrugs while a little smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. You can see in his eyes how proud he is of her.

You giggle “well, she sounds so cool, I do love a tough girl.”

“Oh, she’s definitely your girl then”

You smile and think that after all, yes, Joel probably doesn't have any horrible skeletons in his closet.

And again he falls silent and looks uncertain and embarrassed, he lowers his eyes and then asks you, “You know, I’m going to be working in the building next to where you work for a little while longer, so I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee with me sometime?”

It’s like every word is bouncing around in your head as you think about what to say. Would you like to get to know him better? The answer in the end is, “Yes, I would like to, thank you” you feel your face heat up as you say it.

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he looks at you, he seems nervous, excited but above all happy.

“I’m glad you accepted. So…what do you think about tomorrow?”

“Okay, I have lunch break from 12 to 2, is 1 okay for you?”

You see his face light up “sure that’s fine. See you tomorrow then”

For a moment he raises his arm as if he wants to come closer and touch you, but then he immediately lets it slide down his side.

Gentleman, you note in your head.

It is not yet the time for such confidence, but secretly you hope that it will come soon.

You say goodbye to him and get back in the car and you see him waving at you in the rearview mirror.

“God, Joel Miller, I already know you’re going to be a threat for me. In the best sense of the word.”

_________________________

In the weeks that follow, you and Joel share a lot of coffees. Every day he waits for you outside the clinic at 1:00 sharp, you go to the corner café and chat for an hour before returning to work. He tells you a lot of things about himself and his life which you adore listening about.

He also confides in you that he was in therapy and had to use antidepressants for a period of time, when Sarah's mother abandoned them. You completely understand.

And the more you talk to him the more you get convinced that he’s a great person, you don’t have any doubt about that.

He never fails to compliment you, on your clothes, on your hair, on your eyes, on your nail polish.

He laughingly admits that the compliment about the nail polish was Sarah’s suggestion. “Dad, she told me, girls like it when you notice details.”

You laugh out loud and nod. “She’s right. And you’re right, too, you have a very smart daughter.”

He shrugs “I know,” and then adds. “It’s been so long since I’ve dated anyone, I don’t even remember how to do it anymore.” You lean slightly across the table and whisper. “Well, I think you’re doing great.” And it’s true. You feel spoiled like a queen.

He gives you a mischievous smile “oh yeah?”

“Yes, definitely” And you want to kiss him right there, in that crowded café.

Yet a voice inside you still can’t understand how someone like him, who could have all the women he wants, is inviting you, a curvy girl.

You shouldn’t, but you still have those latent insecurities from when you were 15 and boys in your class made fun of you. Somewhere inside you there is still that fragile and wounded teenager who thinks it’s impossible that someone could truly love you. Or even just desire you.

And you hate it, because Joel has done nothing but show you how much he enjoys spending time with you. And his compliments have always sounded sincere, his eyes are, they send you a reassuring image, full of admiration. He seems truly interested in you.

You're still in this internal monologue where you curse yourself for being like this when he asks you, "Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?"

Oh. He did it. He took the next step.

With your heart pounding in your chest and your mouth unable to help but curl into a smile you answer “yes!” a little too loudly.

You put a hand over your mouth as he looks at you amused “well, I’m glad you’re so excited about the idea. Should I pick you up at 8?”

“Yes, that sounds perfect” you reply, quietly this time but with a little firecracker in your chest that keeps banging where your heart is.

You finish your coffee and go out and he asks for your address which he writes down on his phone. You try to say that there is no need for him to bother but he insists on picking you up.

“Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it”

“Good, see you tonight” and this time his hand wraps around your arm and squeezes lightly as he leans down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You return to the clinic feeling like you're walking on clouds.

You come home after working as hard as you can while still feeling anxious and completely unsure of what to wear. You know you didn't do anything wrong and that's a relief because you certainly can't mess up your patients' medications.

You jump in the shower, mentally going over everything in your closet. You decide to exclude any black dress because no, simply no. It's a special day and you want to wear a color. Maybe the green dress? No, green doesn't suit you, you don't even know why you bought it. Maybe the red one? But that one is very low-cut and you've rarely felt good enough to wear it. Maybe the blue one? The blue one is low-cut, but not too low-cut, it hugs you in the right way, it doesn't highlight what you don't want. Yes, maybe it's the right choice.

You hum in the shower as you wash your hair, satisfied with your decision.

You come out feeling invincible. Joel Miller has asked you to dinner. It’s been years since anyone has asked you out. You didn’t like the ones who did, and God only knows how much you miss good sex. Someone who touches you just right. Someone who makes you sigh and whimper and feel alive in his arms.

Someone who kisses you and leaves you breathless and doesn't hesitate to make you feel simply amazing as he goes down between your thighs.

Joel seems to have all the makings and miraculously seems eager to give you exactly that.

You slip into the dress and look at yourself in the mirror. You like the image it reflects. To hell with those stupid kids who always gave you shit and made you feel horrible.

You're going out to dinner with Joel Miller tonight.

Joel fucking Miller who in the high school categorization is the equivalent of the football quarterback.

The High School Prom King.

God, that makes you feel so good.

He rings the doorbell at 8:00 sharp, just as you’ve finished putting on your favorite lipstick. You take a deep breath as you go to open the door, placing your hand on the handle, and mentally preparing yourself for what you’ll find on the other side.

Finally you open it and he’s perfect. He looks like a painting framed by your door.

You stifle a scream with all your strength and say “hello” to him in a high pitched voice.

Goddamn you.

He doesn't even seem to notice. “So, miss, are you ready?”

“Sure, thank you.”

You grab your bag from the hall table and walk out with him. He takes your hand as he walks you to his pick up truck, opens the door and helps you get in.

Once in the driver's seat he turns to you and says "you look incredible tonight"

And you're about to say that after all you could skip dinner, who cares, instead you could go to your room and fuck. But you decide to behave as well as him, this man has a daughter to take care of and it seems like he's not looking for a one night stand judging by how many coffees he's offered you and how much he's put in to get to know you, so much so that by the second time he could order for you with his eyes closed, so you just say “you too” with the biggest smile widening on your face.

And oh, it's so true. He left aside the flannel shirts and the worn jeans and with them he was already the most attractive man who had ever caught your eye.

He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a beige shirt that hugs his strong biceps. You can glimpse his soft tummy as he drives, the last button before his belt tightening in a delicious way, his meaty thighs wrapped in those jeans are mouth watering.

The work he does makes him muscular in all the right places.

The car stops in front of the restaurant and he opens the door for you again. He lets you enter the restaurant first, he addresses the waitress politely and they place you at the best table in the restaurant. You are impressed, he did all this for you.

The evening passes pleasantly, you talk a lot and chat about everything, by now there is a familiarity between you that you have built over the weeks, you feel safe and comfortable with him. Finally. After so many failed and wrong relationships you feel like you have found someone right. Joel is not ashamed of you, he doesn't try to change you, he doesn't comment on your weight, he is truly a breath of fresh air.

And you see the way he looks at you, enraptured. His eyes sparkle as he talks to you and listens to you. He listens to what you have to say and never makes inappropriate comments.

You both have a sense of humor and you like that, you manage not to take yourself too seriously and laugh together. Which is hot. Extremely hot. Every time you see that dimple on his cheek pop up, your knees buckle and your heart melts. He’s so adorable.

You also like the fact that he talks to you about Sarah, it makes you feel involved in his life, it seems like he doesn't try to keep you separate from it.

“Sarah is at a sleepover at one of her friends. So…would you like to stay over tonight?” he says it looking you straight in the eye and you already know what it means.

It’s the night.

The big night.

After all, you felt it and put on your favorite lingerie.

“Sure I want to,” you reply, taking his hand across the table and squeezing it. His hands big and strong…you can’t wait to feel them all over your body.

He insists on paying the bill despite your protests, you walk out of the restaurant and toward the truck when Joel grabs your waist and presses you against the door. He’s an inch from your lips, you can feel his warm breath on your skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What if I say no?” you tease him with a mischievous smile.

His body is completely on top of yours and the truth is that you can already feel your panties getting wet.

“I would quit, but it wouldn’t be easy so I hope you’ll reconsider”

You giggle “okay” and you feel his hands tighten on your hips.

He presses his lips against yours and it's a sloppy, needy kiss, urgent, all spit and tongue.

It leaves you breathless and you wonder what he will do in bed if this is the effect he has on you with just one kiss.

In fact you are touching each other really for the first time, in these weeks you have imagined many times his lips, their taste, their softness, their warmth. Now you know that he exceeds all your expectations.

He's calmer now, his lips fit perfectly between yours, he gently nibbles your lower lip and continues to lick inside your mouth.

He’s divine.

Utterly divine.

His hands run up and down your hips and he's about to lift your dress and grab your thigh when you stop him. “Joel…”

He looks at you with bated breath and eyes begging for mercy. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Not here…please, take me home” you whisper and he sighs “okay”

You don't even know how you managed to stop but you want your first time to be just for the two of you, you don't want to risk prying eyes or voices shouting obscene comments getting in the way.

You're already nervous enough that he'll see you naked for the first time.

He makes you get back in the pick up and gets into the driver's seat, while he fastens his seat belt you cast an eye at his crotch and you realize he’s semi-hard.

While he's driving, you put your hand on his thigh, because he has to know how much you want him.

You squeeze gently and hear him grunt “Babe…don’t do it, I won’t make it home.” and you giggle.

His low, raspy voice drives you crazy, and for a moment while you're stopped at the traffic light you consider sliding down your seat and straddling him but no, just no, wrecking his car on your first date wouldn't be the best way to end it.

You take a deep breath, leaving your hand quietly on his leg, but you want… oh you want so much to move it up and reach his bulge and stroke it over his pants.

When he pulls up in his driveway in the cab of his pickup truck there's an electricity between you that could power a small village, you feel it fluctuating in the air.

He quickly unbuckles his belt and leans over you to unbuckle yours, not without kissing you. “Let's go, pretty lady, I feel like I can’t wait a minute longer”

You get out and run to the door, he nervously searches for his keys in his pockets and opens it. You don't even have time to look around, it's the first time you enter his house but you only see it fleetingly because he takes your hand and immediately drag you to the bedroom.

There’s a chest of drawers in one corner and a wardrobe, both made of dark wood, probably made by him.

In the center of the room there is a large bed with a headboard of the same wood, the walls are a beautiful cerulean blue, there are three paintings hanging above the bed.

The bed has beige sheets and a light beige duvet with white stripes.

It’s a very manly cozy room, he makes you sit on the bed and you feel how comfortable it is, it's like him, warm and soft.

He starts undressing in front of you, he takes off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans without taking his eyes off you, he seems hypnotized by you.

You suddenly feel like there's an emptiness in the pit of your stomach, you wonder if you're ready to make yourself so vulnerable in front of him.

Oh fuck, where did this come from now? Why? You were so happy just a second ago.

It was easy in public places, you were able to use irony and your defense tactics.

Now there’s just the two of you and you wanted that, you insisted for that and yet you feel exposed now.

You know it's right, your insecurities right now aren't from Joel. Joel makes you feel safe.

It's you, it's just you.

Joel notices your hesitation, comes closer and caresses your face then he gently takes your chin and raises your gaze towards his

“Are you okay?”

“Yes” you reply in a small voice.

“If you don’t want to do it, that’s okay, darling.”

Your voice cracks a little as you reply “no, oh no, Joel I want it”

“So what’s wrong? Talk to me, you can trust me, you know?” He slips his hand into your hair and caresses you gently, looking you intensely in the eyes.

It's so stupid, all night you've felt hungry and lustful for him and now… you're afraid that seeing you naked he might think he made a mistake.

“I…” you try to say. You know that he at least deserves sincerity from you “I… I’m ashamed”

Joel's eyes widen and a completely confused expression appears on his face “about what?”

He really doesn't seem to understand and it makes you feel a little frustrated

“About my body, about the fact that I'm not thin, I have stretch marks and many other defects and you will see them” you say it all in one breath feeling silly.

“Oh babe…no. Listen to me carefully: you’re absolutely gorgeous. You don't have to be afraid to undress in front of me, I'm sure that whatever is under your clothes is wonderful and deserves to be worshipped. I really like you. I'm not saying this just because I want to have sex. You’re beautiful, honey”

You feel tears stinging your eyes and you fight them back with all your strength “you could have anyone you want”

“I want you. I want you if you let me” his voice is firm, his fingers caress your jaw until they reach your lips and brush them gently.

“Do you trust me?”

Sure, why shouldn’t I. He’s never given me a reason not to. you say to yourself.

“Yes” you whisper

“I want nothing more than to make you feel good and I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“I know”

“And you can always talk to me about anything, okay? I don’t want to make you regret this”

He is sincere. He is absolutely sincere and you can clearly see it in his big beautiful brown eyes.

“Okay” you smile

“And by the way…your curves make me absolutely feral” he gives you a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?” you say with a hint of surprise

“Sure. Would you let me prove it to you?” his hand is on your shoulder now and lingers on the strap of your dress.

“Yes, please Joel… yes”

Damn insecurities, they were about to make you lose the best man you've ever met.

And now you feel impatient again and want his hands everywhere.

Now you notice his broad chest, the freckles scattered across his skin, the happy trail of hair that ends up hidden by his jeans.

Now you can enjoy the view of his muscular shoulders and strong neck and you can't wait to taste his skin under your tongue.

His hands move slowly over you, he slides the straps of your dress and reveals your bra.

“Get up,” he says, “I want to show you something.”

You look at him in disbelief. “What?”

“Come with me” he takes your hand and makes you get out of bed.

He takes you to a full-length mirror in a corner of his room “Sarah made me buy this because she says I have to look at myself before I leave the house. She says I make terrible combinations when I get dressed. Sometimes I'm in a hurry and wear my shirt inside out or something like that." he says smiling and shaking his head.

You giggle and the confidential tone with which he speaks to you makes you feel special.

“Well I don't know if it's the mirror's merit but you did a good job tonight” you joke.

You are in front of the mirror and he is behind you “look at yourself”

You become serious again and observe yourself.

“Look how beautiful you are” he says in his deep and slightly hoarse voice“can I?” he asks placing his hands on the clasp of your bra. You nod.

He takes off your bra and drops it on the floor. You look at that woman in the mirror, you look at her skin and the roundness of her breasts and her hard nipples and then you look into his eyes and you see nothing but admiration “God, your breasts are amazing” you hear him say “can I touch them?” and you nod again “yes, please Joel”

He traces the outline with his fingers and then cups his hands and fills them with your tits.

You don't miss the moan of pleasure that he tries to stifle in his throat “they are so soft” he squeezes them delicately “mmm baby, they feel amazing in my hands”

He takes your nipples between his fingers and tugs on them slightly “and these? Look how sexy they are, I bet they would be delicious in my mouth”

You feel your skin heat up and your head spin, you squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his hands playing with yours hard buds and his words go straight to your cunt. He’s so good at this.

“Open your eyes, honey” he whispers in your ear “don't stop looking at yourself”

His hands leave your breasts and for a moment you want to take them and put them back there but you let him. He slides your dress down your hips, until you're left in your underwear in front of the mirror.

“You’re stunning” he punctuates every syllable on your skin making you tremble “absolutely gorgeous”

His hand slides over your stomach and your belly that always makes you feel insecure “Is that what worries you?” he asks as if he can read inside you “that you don't have a flat stomach? Honey, your tummy is amazing.”

He squeezes it and it seems incredible to you how delicate his big hands can be “It's full and delicious and sweet and I can't wait to bite into it”

You squirm, leaning over his broad chest “Oh my god” you moan

He caresses your hips with both hands, supporting you “and these… they feel welcoming and warm and mmm baby, so sensual. Can you see it? They fit my hands so perfectly”

You look at yourself and you've never felt this way.

Guided by his words you finally see yourself beautiful and desirable.

He slips his fingers under the edge of your panties “Can I?”

“Yes” you say in a breath

He slowly slides them off, revealing your pussy “Jesus.” He mutter “look at her. Look how perfect she is”

He just touches your mound and you feel hypnotized, his voice, his hands, the warmth of his body, it’s all too much.

“Oh baby… I love that you left that little strip of hair”

You can't hold back anymore and you whine “touch me Joel, I want more”

His voice vibrates on your soft skin again “Tell me what you want, in detail” He bites the spot where your neck meets your shoulder “I want to hear”

“Oh god… I want… I want your fingers inside me, stretching me just right” you babble “I want to feel full”

His fingers slide between your folds “God baby you’re soaking wet. It’s all for me?”

You squirm under his touch nodding repeatedly, you feel desperately needy and hungry.

“Yes. Please Joel”

“Please what, baby?” He ask maliciously

“Make me yours, make me all yours”

“Can you see how beautiful you are now?”

“Yes” you nod “yeah. Don’t make me wait any longer. I need you, Joel”

You can swear that right now you feel really beautiful and also the luckiest woman in the world.

“Oh, you're getting impatient now… I like that” he says in a hushed tone.

He's still behind you and holding you close, he's still wearing his jeans but you can feel his hard cock pressing against your ass.

You look small in his arms, he surrounds you completely.

He brings you back to the bed and makes you lie down, you are completely naked and yet you no longer feel ashamed and inadequate.

He takes off his jeans, remaining in a pair of black boxers.

At the sight of his erection poking out against the fabric you lick your lips in anticipation.

He lies on top of you, his eyes on yours, looking at you intently “You’re perfect, honey” and then his mouth crash into your neck, kissing and licking everything he can, he takes your skin between his lips sucking and biting like he was starving for you.

“Your skin is like velvet and you smell so good, fuck”

And you whimper and cry and clasp your hands on his shoulder digging your nails in them and you feel like you don’t need anything else in this life.

He lowers himself on your body, grazing at your skin with his lips, lingering for a while on your nipples and mumbling at how good they are.

“I love touching you with my mouth, tasting your curves against my lips” until he reaches your tummy giving sloppy kisses at it and then he bites it. His teeth are attentive and gentle but at the same time eager, like he wants to taste your whole being.

And then he come to your mound and traces your thin strip of hair with his tongue and you buck your hips and move one of your hands through his curls and you plead “more, Joel, please”

He grunts at you when you tug his hair and you look at him with the most miserable begging eyes you can pull out “You want it so bad, babe? Want me to eat you out?”

You mewl a yes and he smirk “want to come on my tongue?”

You nod again “yes”

He places himself between your thighs “God, she seems made for this. So sweet scented and pretty. I bet she tastes so good”

And in an instant he dives into your pussy and his nose bumps your clit as his tongue begins to lick you up and down, delving your folds and making your hips jerk.

Your legs are wrapped around his back and his hand is on your tummy holding you in place “god, you look so beautiful like that, my precious angel, all spread and ravenous for me” every word vibrates on your clit and make you moan loudly. It’s like a demon took possession of your body, an insatiable and aching demon that wants nothing but pleasure.

He nudges at your entrance with his tongue and you cry again for more “your fingers, Joel, please, give them to me”

He pushes two fingers inside your soaking wet hole, they enter just easily and he curls them up inside you reaching for your sweetest spot.

“fuck, yes” you howl “god they feel so good, they feel so fucking good, Joel”

“I know baby, I know, you’re taking them so perfectly”

He continues to swirl his tongue over your clit as he pump his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace when you can’t hold your moans anymore and you’re so loud you almost fear his neighbors can hear you “God, Joel, I’m coming - I’m - coming ah- god you’re incr- ah” you’re totally babbling trying to get a complete sentence out of your mouth and you can’t, you just can’t because he’s too much and you never felt that good before.

“Soak my fingers, babe, soak my face, give it all to me”

Your pussy clench around his fingers and you feel breathless as your orgasm washes all over you, his dirty talk made you over the edge.

You whine his name as you come, again and again and he doesn’t stop lapping at you until you’re calm.

He lies down next to you, wrapping his arms around you, you bury your head in the crook of his neck and sigh, “Oh, Joel.”

His hand sits on your ass squeezing gently “Such a good girl for me. I can’t believe you almost called yourself out from this”

You playfully pinch one his nipples “don’t make a fool of me”

“I would never” he says, kissing your hair “I’m just saying that you’re too good to not be taken care of. Your body deserves to feel passion and lust and all of that”

“On that note… there’s something else I’d like to do” you look at him maliciously

“What, baby?”

“I would love to… uhm… fuck, I would love to give you head”

He tilt his head “excuse me miss? Watch your mouth!” You giggle hiding your face in his chest and he laugh, and then he goes serious and ask “You sure? You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to”

“Yeah, I know” and you raise your face to kiss the lovely bald patch in his beard and you move to his ear and you whisper “I really want that though”

“As you please, sunshine”

You cup his bulge in his boxer and stroke it gently over the fabric “someone else here needs to be taken care of too”

He grunts “yeah, baby, keep going like that”

“Actually… I can make it even better” and you move from his side getting on your knees on the bed and then sitting on your heels as you keep stroking him.

You lower his boxer and his cock spring free, he’s already hard as rock. You lick your lips “delicious” and he looks at you mischievously “I guess you can be naughtier than I thought, baby”

You smirk back at him, lowering yourself on his groin and kissing the tip of his cock, just the tip, gently as a feather.

You giggle and pull back as he bucks up his hips to your mouth “so impatient, aren’t you?”

“It’s just… I didn’t have anyone giving me head in a very long time”

You open your eyes wide “I don't believe it”

“I swear” he says in a lower hoarse tone “I didn’t… I had some one night stand here and there but nothing serious, you know, I needed to be focused on Sarah and my work. so everything was quick and meaningless”

You can’t imagine Joel having meaningless sex with anybody, he’s so respectful and attentive with you.

You raise an eyebrow. “Joel Miller, do you mean to make me believe that all the women in the neighborhood aren’t in love with you?”

“Oh Rose loves me for sure” and you laugh “but about the others… I don’t know, some of them tried a couple of times but I always rejected them. I told you, I didn’t have time for complications”

“Then why you’ve changed your mind now?”

“Sarah threatened to sign me up for Tinder if I didn't find someone. And then I met you”

You giggle “so you went out with me to be safe from Tinder”

“At first, maybe. But now you know that it's not just that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

What he just did speaks volumes about how much he likes you.

And you’re even more convinced now.

You lower your head and lick the tip again swirling your tongue around it and he moans.

You slide your tongue flat along his length and wrap your hand around the base. It's big, bigger than you expected but you don't feel intimidated.

“Oh baby, you’re so good to me, what have I done to deserve such a perfect girl?”

He gasps when you took all you can of his cock in your mouth, feeling his length sliding over your tongue and his musky taste invading your palate, you whine beginning to suck like you’re desperate, stroking the rest of it with your fingers.

It doesn’t take too much before you start feeling him throbbing between your lips, he’s right on the edge as you suck and lick and kiss him like the most delicious lollipop you’ve ever had.

He pants loudly bucking his hips “Baby I’m almost - AH- almost there”

You make his cock pop out of your mouth “finish inside me, then”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m on the pill” you nod straddling his crotch and positioning his cock at your entrance.

You slowly lower yourself feeling the tip force its way into your hole and you moan with every inch that pushes its way inside you.

You stay still for a moment feeling his cock fill you up completely.

He says nothing but he looks you in the eyes and the brown of his pupils has become incredibly dark.

Eventually you start moving on top of him, placing your hands on his chest, your pussy making lewd sounds and your tits bouncing, he takes them in his hands squeezing them as he sinks into you, deeper and deeper and harder and harder.

You’re basically riding him and you've never felt so wild and free, your insecurities just disappeared clouded by your pleasure.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so gorgeous like this, look at the way your hips move, it’s so fucking amazing”

You throw yourself onto his chest as you feel his seed paint your walls, you take his mouth with yours stifling his moans that echo inside you.

He slides a hand between you, searching for your clit, and his calloused fingers begin to move over it. You end the kiss to look into his eyes, “don’t stop” he whispers “come for me baby.”

Your head feels light and your vision blurs as you feel your orgasm building up from the depths of your tummy, your pussy clenching and squeezing his cock.

You gush all over him like never before, making a mess of his crotch and the sheets underneath, crying his name so hard.

You rest your head next to his, inhaling the smell of tobacco, wood and the sweat of his neck, and you laugh, you laugh joyfully, “God,” and he does the same, wrapping his arms around you and caressing your back “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, I'm sorry”

He holds you tighter “you don't have to be sorry, darling, it was wonderful”

“I made such a mess” you murmur

“So what? Nothing that laundry can’t fix. And I’m good at laundry, you know?”

He kisses your forehead and stroke your cheek “I haven't felt this good in ages”

“Yeah, me too” you kiss him wrapping one your leg around his.

You both stay quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth, kissing every now and then suddenly it hits you and you say, “Do you know who we owe all this to?”

“No, I don’t honey, to whom?” he asks confused.

“Rose” you say “Think about it, if I hadn't brought her medicines that day we wouldn't be here now."

“That’s true. I think we should go visit her and bring her a nice present.”

“Yes. She will love the story of how we met.”

You kiss him again and think about what gift could match this. Probably none, because it's the best thing that's ever happened to you.

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aphroditelovesu · 8 months

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I hope I’m not asking too much but can you do a Yan!girlfriend Athena headcanons please? I LOVE your work just as much as I love Athena and I’d really appreciate if you could do it ! 🫶🏻

❝ 🦉 — lady l: aaah, here! I hope you like it because I love writing for her!! Forgive me for any mistakes and good reading! Also, thank you.❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mild stalking, mention of deprivation (punishments), toxic relationships.

❝🦉pairing: yandere!athena x gender neutral!reader.

Athena never thought she would actually get involved with someone, much less fall in love. She always remained faithful to herself and her alone, there was no room for others, much less romantic companions. Not just because of her vow of chastity, but because Athena had never loved anyone romantically.

That said, Athena remained this way for centuries and millennia to come, until she laid eyes on you. She didn't understand why she couldn't take her eyes off you, but she decided not to question it. It had been centuries since any human caught her attention. She didn't think much about it, figuring it was just another innocent interest that would quickly fade away. How wrong she was.

As time passed, Athena couldn't take her attention away from you. She didn't understand why she couldn't get you out of her thoughts. There was something about you, something that attracted the attention of the goddess of wisdom. And when a human catches the attention of a deity, their life will be doomed.

You lived your life as you always did, your days peaceful and ordinary. Except for the fact that you didn't know a goddess had her eye on you. You went out with your friends, lived with your family and worked/studied. And it was during one of your outings with your friends that you met a particular woman.

She introduced herself as Athena and was very beautiful. When you said her name was after the Greek goddess of wisdom, she laughed. A low, delicious laugh to hear. You spent the rest of the night talking, the woman being very impressive and polite. You found yourself wanting to see her more often.

You and Athena met other times and with each meeting, the goddess' desire and obsession grew more and more. She knew there was no turning back, she was too involved. You were very involved in her life and she was very involved in yours. She would have to face reality, she was in love. Athena decided to act quickly, she confessed to you and hoped you would accept her. You would do it anyway, it was the safest option. Rejecting a god is never a wise thing to do.

Athena is very pleasant to have around, she has the natural ability to make everything more comfortable and fun. Although she is serious, she still has a fun side that is only shown to you. She loves reading and painting with you.

As she is also the goddess of handicraft, Athena would love to teach you everything about the subject. She will teach you how to weave and will praise your work with great conviction. She is very proud of you, of the things you do. She will praise you and encourage you and be your number one fan of everything you do.

Athena is a proud goddess and does not accept being offended and her punishments for offenders are always very harsh. And that includes you, if you offend her in any way, no matter how small that offense is, she will punish you. Her punishments towards you are milder, however. Athena prefers to punish you by depriving you of things, of everything that is good for you. If you take medications, you will no longer take them. All you need is her. She will definitely try to make you as dependent as possible.

She is extremely possessive and manipulative, always manipulating you in a subtle way. Athena will never share you, you are hers and what belongs to her is hers alone. Any foolish attempt to flirt with you will result in harsh punishment, from blinding them to death. It all depends on the mood of the goddess.

Athena defends you fiercely and everyone knows not to mess with the King of Olympus' favorite daughter. Speaking of which, Athena will be adamant about keeping you away from the other gods, especially Ares, Poseidon and Zeus. She doesn't want her rivals around you and she doesn't want her father's roving eyes on you. You are hers and must remain that way.

She will spoil you only if she thinks you deserve it. If you are good to her, you will be spoiled without hesitation, whether with material things or with gifts that she can give you. Athena wants you to be perfect for her, even if that means she has to mold you. The romantic partner of the goddess of wisdom must be similar to her and share the same ideals.

Athena tries to be a good girlfriend and she is, she supports you and will always be by your side, but she is possessive and manipulative, and can incite distrust. She can easily be dominated by jealousy and insecurity and this will hurt her pride, which makes her dangerous. But it's okay, you just need to stay with her and you will be rewarded for your loyalty and love.

And even if you deny her in any way, Athena will never take no for an answer. You discovered this when you disobeyed her once and woke up in an ancient temple alone. It was a threat and a promise. Athena was warning you to never cross her again or she won't be so kind. After all, you are hers and she is a goddess and she can do whatever she wishes with you.

#yandere greek mythology #yandere greek gods #greek gods x reader #greek goddess #athena x reader #yandere athena #yandere athena x reader #yandere athena headcanons #headcanons #yandere headcanons

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01zfan · 9 months

Text

first | j. sc

sungchan x fem!reader | 3.8k words

thank you for all the support on the first installment of the bases series, i really wasn’t expecting all the praise i’ve received on this account. i want to continue writing good things if you guys are willing to stick around!

also MERRY CHRISTMAS.

first base - the act of kissing, mainly with tongue (otherwise known as french kissing).

contains: kissing, pda

bases: first | second | third | homerun

you watched from the sidelines with a camera at your side. the weight of the equipment resting on the strap behind your neck would bring you stiffness later. as you watched the stationary camera recording the game you rubbed the back of your neck to relieve some pain. you couldn’t care less when it came to sports, you found it to be too boring. the irony of hating sports while being the person in charge of taking pictures on said sports was so ironic it made you laugh. of course at the end of the day, this was your job and the pictures sold well, so how could you really complain. plus, there were moments of pure exhilaration when your finger rested on the capture button, lifting up and down like a trigger. seeing the athletes leap in the air in celebration, embracing each other when a play was executed perfectly was amazing, but being able to capture it was otherworldly. you loved being a photographer being able to capture moments in time where emotion flowed through the picture. you also couldn’t complain too much because having any proximity to your boyfriend made your day. sungchan being on the hockey team was a plus.

when you signed up to be on the photography committee you didn’t know about the requirement to take photos of a select sport. there was a sign up sheet you weren’t aware of, until the president of the committee emailed you a link of a google sheet all filled up.

you looked through the document mad at all the sports you had found a little interesting. if you didn’t have any events, how would you be paid? then you saw that almost all hockey events were open. desperate for the money you bit your tongue and put your name, email, and phone number. after that it was history. the head coach got you in touch with the sports team staff since you became the de facto hockey photographer for the season. you got acquainted with the team, learning their names and numbers to yell out for a photo opportunity. you even reluctantly taught yourself about the sport, just in case you had to know something.

during the first practice for the season is when you first met sungchan. you had shook his hand at the first meeting looking up at the tall man who had way to pretty of hands to be playing sports. you imagined his soft hands in those comically large hockey gloves, pushing people down on the hard ice. his hands on his knees while he watched the game attentively from the penalty box. you were thinking about his hands when he went to the sidelines to the team manager, taking out his mouthguard to politely ask for his water bottle. he was just as kind as he was pretty, smiling and saying thank you after he was done taking a drink. before skating back to practice he turned towards you.

“you take really nice pictures by the way.” he said it simply a shy smile etched across his face.

the comment caught you by surprise. you very rarely received compliments for your work outside of the occasional “this turned out well” when you showed your clients the finished photos of an event. anything to you at all. very rarely would the subjects of your photos ever be able to thank you since it was shown by the organization anyway. most of the time there was an unspoken custom of treating the photographer like they’re invisible, an omniscient viewer of the event.

the team manager looked at you expectantly and brought you out of your reverie.

“oh, thank you.” you smiled back at him. sungchan looked at you intently and went to rest his hands on the railing of the rink.

“seriously. i looked at your portfolio not just your instagram. thanks for agreeing to take pictures of the team this season. you’re gonna make us look really cool.” sungchan continued his piece, complimenting you a little too much.

more often than not you had no idea what to say to compliments. most of the times you would just mumble an awkward thank you or try and give a compliment back. each exchange always ended making you feel awkward by the end. but sungchan just kept going. your face was burning not used to the praise of someone with such a pretty face and such pretty hands and such a soft voice. it was too much, entirely too much. all you could do was nod at him in the most sincere way.

“i’ll do my best.” the smile came naturally, giving your words a slightly flirty tone. you couldn’t help it, looking at someone so cute kind of made you giggly and bubbly for no reason. when sungchan smiled in response you couldn’t help but look down.

“okay. i’ll talk to you later,” sungchan looked to you and the team manager. “bye yunjin.”

when he turned around to skate back to his team you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. yunjin tried to be silent, to not bring up the tension with a girl she barely knew. but she couldn’t help it. only a beat passed before yunjin was smiling knowingly at you.

“he was on your instagram?” yunjin elbowed you teasingly.

your cheeks were hurting from smiling to hard. you bashfully shook your head.

“he’s just being nice.“ you say shyly, but you hope he’s not just being nice. you hope he’s being flirty, and that he wants to hold your hand inside of his pretty ones.

“i’ve known sungchan for years and he’s probably the nicest on the team but that was not just nice. that was something just a little different.” yunjin held up her fingers inches from each other for emphasis.

“what do you mean?” you asked.

“hopefully you get better at picking up hints when he talks to you later.” yunjin laughed at your aloofness.

you actually didn’t pick up the hints. sungchan walked with you to your car after practice everyday without fail. you thought it was him being a gentleman. he would walk with you to class, holding your books. you thought it was because he was nice. when his teammates would coo at you and tease him when you walked by you thought it was them being silly. this went on for months. at first you had thought that he was flirting with you, but after a few weeks of him not even touching you, you began to condition yourself to only be his friend.

it wasn’t until you stayed late after practice one day learning how to skate on the ice with sungchan skating backwards facing you. he had that same smile on his face when you would get extra flustered around him. you skated on the ice with your arms stretched out, freaked out by the thought of falling and breaking something.

“sungchan!” you said his name after almost losing your balance “i’m gonna fall!”

“i won’t let you fall. don’t be scared.” sungchan said teasingly. his smile only got wider.

“if i fall it’s your fault.”

“bend your legs to stop.” sungchan demonstrated the proper form and you copied him. you bent your legs and you could feel your already slow speed get slower. when you finally came to a stop, sungchan skated forward closer to you. you tried not to freak out, being so close to him.

you guys were like that for a moment. him in front of you and you slightly wobbling on the ice. you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, because you knew he was already looking down at you. when he looked down at you a certain way, you forgot that you were only his friend. to keep your sanity you stared at his chest, usually covered in his hockey gear but now he wore his casual clothes. you couldn’t look at his puffer jacket too much, because you might start to think what’s underneath. you shift your focus to his hands that are picking at the seams of his jeans.

“are your hands cold?” you asked, still not making eye contact.

“what? oh no. i’m just kinda nervous.” sungchan said truthfully. his hands stopped picking at the seams and now rested at his side.

“am i that much of a hazard on the ice?” you laugh slightly trying not to take to much focus off of trying to balance.

you look up at him now. sungchan looks at you the same way he would be on the ice, thinking about his next move. his brown eyes are still so piercing but so soft. he looks directly into your eyes as he places both of his hands on your shoulders.

“i don’t know how to make it anymore obvious that i like you.” sungchan says it simply. you can feel your legs wobbling on the ice. you try extremely hard to not collapse right in front of him. you grab onto him to find some stability.

“i like you too.” it comes out meek. you curse yourself for being such a coward.

“no i like really like you. like more than a friend. i don’t know if you feel the same way. you’re just so cute and talented and smart and funny and nice and—“

sungchan is running off at the mouth. you have never seen him so shy, rubbing your arms up and down in tandem with his words.

“i really like you too. i was too nervous to i thought you were just being nice. i didn’t want to assume.” you smile at him, trying not to focus too much on his lips. you grab his hand, wondering why they were so soft and warm in yours. you partially hold his hand for stability from the ice.

“can i kiss you?” he asks.

you simply nod and lean forward. you see sungchan bend down to get closer to your lips. you close your eyes. months of pining and waiting were leading you to this, holding sungchan’s hand while he leans in to kiss you. you were too busy being on cloud nine that you forgot in reality you were on ice. when you got on your tippy toes to match his height, you lost your balance completely. you went face first into sungchan’s chest. he partially kept his promise to not let you fall, holding you up. you were so frantic and caught off guard by the change in your equilibrium that you put all your weight on him at the speed of light. this made sungchan lose his balance, and he fell on his ass, bringing you down with him.

you kept your head in his chest, mortified by how you managed to embarrass yourself so quickly. sungchan’s loud and boyish laughter pulled you from your embarrassment. you looked up and saw his big smile, head thrown back as he laughed. you joined him, giggling into his jacket. sungchan laughed the whole time he got up, and still laughed as he pulled you off the ground.

“i haven’t fallen like that since i was first on the ice.” sungchan dusted snow off of you before he dusted it off himself. you knew sungchan started ice hockey at a very young age, so you didn’t dare to ask him when he first stepped on the ice.

when the ice resurfacer came into the rink sungchan carefully led you off the ice, instructing you to put your hands on his hips as he skated towards the exit.

you two left the rink long after everyone else. sungchan walked you to your car, one of the three left in the parking lot. he opened the door for you as you climbed into the drivers seat. he closed the door for you too. after turning on your car sungchan folded his arms to lean on the open window of your car. he put his head in the palm of his hand, looking up to smile at you.

“thanks for trying to show me to skate.” you wanted to bring up the kiss you two almost had. the look in sungchan’s eyes was the same as when he went in the first time. you waited patiently.

”thanks for making me laugh.”

you two sat like that for three extremely fast heartbeats.

“are you going to wonbin’s christmas party?” sungchan asked quickly. you shook your head.

you were friends with the goalie of the ice hockey team. wonbin was funny, quiet, and good at his sport. when he said that the annual christmas party he throws for his team and friends was always fun, you never stopped to consider this an invitation. when yunjin said she was going with anton as “friends”, you didn’t dare to impose on the relationship that was blossoming.

“it’s tonight, isn’t it?” you looked at the clock on your phone. it wasn’t late by any means. 8:30 PM on a saturday was prime party time.

“i’m going there right now, actually.”

“i hope you have fun.”

“i would have more fun if you went with me.”

“i don’t know where wonbin lives.”

“i can text you his address. or you can follow my car. or i can drive you there and then drop you back off here. he lives only like five minutes from here.”

you thought about your options. sungchan gave you three, but there was definitely a fourth one floating around in your head. you could’ve said no and drove yourself home. you thought about all the regret you’d have if you didn’t go with him so you rolled up your window and took your keys out of the ignition. sungchan opened the car door for you with the biggest smile on his face. his car was only parked one space over, so he opened the passenger seat for you as well. sungchan smiled all the way to wonbin’s house. he was right about it being only five minutes away.

sungchan ran around his car before you could even take off your seatbelt. he opened your door for you, reaching in the back of his car for something. he was looking intensely, half his body in the passenger seat. it was unfair how even his backside was pretty, long and tranquil like a daydream.

when sungchan came out of his car, he had a christmas sweater and a santa hat. sungchan was already decked in his gear, a simple christmas sweater underneath his puffer jacket. you quickly realized the apparel was for you.

“wow, you really thought ahead.” you pulled the sweater over the shirt you had. you didn’t want the hat, so sungchan put it on his head instead.

“didn’t want you to feel out of place or anything.” sungchan said.

you two walked side by side to wonbin’s door. it was a large house, probably the largest one you’ll ever be in. you look at the hedges and the trees and the window. anything to get your mind off of how dangerously close your hand were to sungchan’s. just by walking side by side your knuckles were grazing his. he was so close, but so far away. half way up wonbin’s driveway, sungchan grabbed your hand.

you froze. you wanted to be cool, to take it all in stride and to try and seem as unaffected as possible. this was impossible. you were smiling uncontrollably when sungchan looked down at you.

“is this okay?” he asked. you nodded your head, squeezing his hand for emphasis. sungchan rang the doorbell, texted wonbin, and knocked on the door all with one hand.

wonbin came to the door pretty fast, swinging it open. it caught you a little off guard, but not as off guard as wonbin was when he looked down at you and sungchan holding hands. shotaro comes to the door and so does sohee. you feel a little shy seeing them all focus on your hands.

“i thought you guys would be doing your little dance forever.” sohee says.

you see anton’s phone before you see him, taking a picture of you two awkwardly standing at wonbin’s door holding hands.

it was less awkward when you got into wonbin’s house. his house was still packed. you recognized the people on the ice hockey team, but other than that and a few familiar faces you had no idea who any of these people were. you hold onto sungchan’s hand tightly as he navigates you through the crowds of people to the drink table.

“do you want anything?” sungchan asks, opening a bottle of sparkling grape juice. you grab a glass and point at the bottle. sungchan pours you both a glass. it doesn’t go unnoticed that he poured you more after hearing you exclaim it’s your favorite thing to drink.

you both mingle and walk around the party together. sungchan is nice enough to tell you how he knows the people he knows, telling you something about them that would help you keep a conversation going naturally if needed. you mostly trailed behind him and you guys talked in various places of wonbin’s house.

by the drink bar you talked about how wonbin stalked your social media when he first heard your name. he was intrigued by your pictures and wondered how his team managed to snag someone so talented to be their photographer for the semester. sungchan holds back using the word “fate” when you tell him how you ended up in your current situation. he even showed you his favorite photo of yours, the one where the man sat in front of two children hugging, sketching their picture on paper for them to have forever.

in wonbin’s kitchen you told sungchan how you thought he only saw you as a friend. you talk about moments where you thought he was going to make a move, and sungchan tells you he thought he was making a move. you shake your head as you two have two completely different perceptions of the same moment. sungchan saw moments of brushing your hand, holding your books, and walking to your car as trying to make you his girlfriend. you saw those moments as sweet things to remember, to keep a mental checklist of the type of person you want your boyfriend to be.

you two were on a lazy boy when you start talking about how you got into photography. you sit in the seat while sungchan is perched on the arm rest. you were in the middle of talking about your first camera when you are approached by yunjin, holding something behind her back.

“heyyyy you two.” yunjin is a little louder than usual. she is so obviously trying to hide something.

“hey yunjin,” you look at the big smile on her face. she has a little bit of her lipstick rubbed off and you make a mental note to corner anton later. “what’s behind your back?”

“oh this?” yunjin coyly says bringing out a full branch of mistletoe. she dangles the end of the mistletoe in between you and sungchan. sungchan laughs out loud, bringing a hand to cover his face. you smile, your face getting hot.

the attention from the rest of the party is on you two in a second. people come from the kitchen and the living room to huddle around you and sungchan. your cheeks heat up and sungchan holds your hand while laughing.

“you are insane.” you say to yunjin.

“i am being a good wingwoman. now please kiss your man, my arm is getting tired.” yunjin smiles and the faces of the ice hockey team light up realizing you and sungchan are finally about to put an end to the months of pining.

the party was two seconds away from chanting “kiss” when you feel sungchan staring at you. you turn to look at his smiling face. you smile too, and smile even harder when his hand slides against your cheek. he takes your other cheek is his hand and you put yours on his forearms. he bends down from his perch on the armrest to press his lips to yours. the kiss is feathery and light, his lips soft and smooth. just as quickly as he goes in he pulls away, but you felt like you were held in that moment for millennia. when sungchan pulls away, the entire room erupts in cheers and claps. you feel awkward only for a moment until sungchan stands and pulls you from the lazy boy. he bows like he just gave a show and you do too. this makes you feel less awkward for some reason, making light of a situation that could’ve been mortifying. you are almost amazed your mind didn’t immediately go to the worst case scenario, playing out the situation with a level head.

after the crowd disperses, sungchan grabs your hand and leads you upstairs, away from people.

sungchan opens the door to a dark room, and turns on the light. you know it’s wonbin’s room by the medals and framed jersey on the wall. when he closes the door, he looks at you worried.

“i should’ve told you they do that. i completely forgot i’m sorry.” sungchan looks at you, sad for putting you in that situation.

“sungchan it’s okay. it’s all lighthearted and fun,” you grab sungchan’s two hands and move them back and forth. “plus i liked it. i want to keep doing it.”

sungchan freezes the same way you did when he grabbed your hand. he looks at you with wide eyes and then smirks.

you and sungchan spend the next half hour in the others arms. the kisses start light, the sound of you two breaking apart bouncing off the walls. you both take turns caressing cheeks and feeling exposed skin. sungchan takes his time kissing you, only breaking apart to breathe or to tell you how pretty you are. he kisses you all over your face, a flurry of pecks that doesnt leave a single part of your face unkissed. when sungchan’s says he can’t believe he finally gets to kiss you, you smile and nod in agreement. you can’t stop yourself from telling him about his soft hands and soft demeanor, how gentle he is towards you. but you have to remind him that you are not glass and you will not break if he pulls you in a little harder and kisses you a little rougher. months of pining and thinking about kissing him could not be sated with gentle pecks and hand holding.

he pulls you in again desperately others, and you bunch up his christmas sweater to show him how pent up you are. you both take turns tilting your heads and deepening kisses. he places a kiss to your neck feeling butterflies spring from the imprint of his lips. sungchan grips your shoulders when you do the same to him. his saliva is sweet like sparkling grape soda and his tongue is as soft and gentle as his hands.

#seriez: bases #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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artytaeh · 3 months

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idk if you write a lot about mattheo, but I loveee him heehehe. I feel like Mattheo is the guy that sleeps around A LOT but only has one or two girls he really dates, and is loyal to them. She's probably one of of pansy's friends too, so they are very close in the friend group. He would also make it very obvious and be very touchy, like if there's a group hangout or sleepover he's holding your thigh or waist, and when you guys lay down you're ON TOP of him, like he wants you and will make it knownnnnn. Anyways he's such a pookie even if he's a psycho he's cute.

hey love! omg i love to receive asks, thank you for interacting! 🌷 and you're so right about this.

i mainly write theodore nott, however mattheo riddle is a close second (i have many drafts about him </3) along with lorenzo berskhire, in the future.

I FEEL LIKE MATTHEO RIDDLE avoids getting attached to other people, hence why he rarely sleeps with the same person thrice. two times at maximum, really— specially if mattheo finds them really pretty or a good company.

full-on distances himself: would only stop avoiding them until he's perceived as an asshole and 'not worth it', since it saves him from a possible situationship that could turn out to be a big, big crush.

but you, pansy's friend? oh boy, that was disaster waiting to happen. pansy, from his friendgroup, who gets invited and dragged to each of their hangouts? pansy parkinson, your best friend that brings you with her each time, since the boys don't want to go out without pansy, and she won't go without you.

it's a simple equation, really. no you? no pansy. no pansy? no hangout. for the hangout, pansy must come, which equals to your presence there too. mattheo riddle sees you so many times that:

he'll give up on his friends (never happening. mattheo riddle gave his heart to them and he'd never admit this, but the closest thing he has of a family is them.) so he won't have to see you so many times,

or he will grow some pants and not steal one single glance. mattheo riddle is perceived as a very attractive slytherin amongst other students— he doesn't need your attention.

but god. you're such a cruel little minx, and you don't even notice it.

mattheo looks at you and it's like you have him bewitched, because thoughts and more thoughts silence whatever isn't about you inside his mind. and that blossoms some cravings within him.

like, listening to your voice. will nonchalantly ask pansy about something that you like, as in your favorite subject, or whatever the fuck you do as a hobby.

it could be the most boring thing for mattheo, to the point where he thinks that he might die out of boredom. however, as he smokes a cigarette, staring at everywhere but you, mattheo will find a way to get this interest of yours as the main topic.

and then you won't shut up.

mattheo smokes a whole cigarette (and even a second one, for the sake of having you talking more and more) while he listens to you.

god, aren't you thirsty? you haven't shut up. and you know what? he likes it. your voice. it might get into a very dangerous point where mattheo will smoke, staring at the wall, while imagining this voice of yours as moans. or even worse: telling him reassuring, sweet words.

he's down bad. and he'll blame pansy for it.

he'll sleep with you just one more time. this next party will be the last time that it'll happen. and then, goodbye! because mattheo riddle can deal with pansy parkinson chasing him around with the intent of ripping those dark curls out of his stupid head!

except that pansy is a scary slytherin and god, one warning glare of hers, is enough for mattheo straighten up his posture as he guides you to his bedroom, mid party.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

mattheo can look like a fucking hunting dog when he puts some effort to it. sat behind you, as you obliviously go through another boring class— those dark eyes becoming threatening as he carefully looks at each. single. desk.

trying to get one miserable unlucky fool who might have an eye on you. so that he can give a warning that would soon spread around school like a bloody virus.

mattheo waits for you to leave the classroom first. then, menacingly, mattheo will make his way to the prick who couldn't get his eyes off you— a little warning, one that the entirety of hogwarts and their mothers know to be a very serious threat, and baam. 🗯️

no more love interests. no competition. at parties, mattheo is a bloody falcon to anyone who approaches you for a dance. sometimes you might be enjoying yourself, dancing along the beat, drunk in your owm enjoyment to notice how mattheo pushes a guy away from your back, yeeting them to the other corner of the dancefloor.

just in case someone steals you away from him. mattheo justifies his actions as being selfish, because he's a bad person. and bad people selfishly keep what they like for themselves.

and god, mattheo loves your company. even if it's platonic or more than that, he'd be damned if someone got you too busy to be dragged along with pansy to their hangouts.

hangouts become smoking sessions with all the group, some smoking, others making company (and mama blaise making sure that not more than two cigarettes are smoked). smoking sessions become outings to hogsmeade, which mattheo likes to pretend to be dates sometimes.

like, 'really, fuck off theodore i can't hear that fucking accent of yours anymore'— so you'll go with him, right? there's this thing he needs to buy. oh, you need to go to the bathroom? what he coincidence, he needs too. might as well go look for one with you. ahh, so there's this bullshit you wanna buy? mattheo rolls his eyes and sure, he'll accompany you; who knows what a gal like you might stumble against if he's not there just in case.

and as you said: physical contact! will wrap an arm around your shoulders, casually, as you walk with the group or the whole lot of you are standing somewhere, while waiting for class to start. if you're sitting in the common room? hand on your thigh, squeezing it every so often, not even conscious about it as he talks with his friends. or even one arm around your waist, as his fingers feel the curve from your ribcage to your hipbone.

then comes the sleepovers as you said, love! 🌷

it started as a girls' night for gossip. obviously, blaise joins in (he's one of the girls, alright?) and lorenzo follows him instantly because this man knows gossip from many different sources.

draco goes too, hating to be one to be left out. if blaise goes, he's coming too— and theodore, well, there will be snacks; besides, he doesn't feel like being alone tonight. mattheo riddle, on the other hand, was the first one to want to join the girls (you) but was waiting for the others to say the first word, so it's less suspicious for him to join.

this first sleepover becomes a slow tradition for the group; unless there's exams preventing you to do so, then this happens weekly. even if someone has a boyfriend or girlfriend expecting some quality time during this night? nuh-huh, sleepovers at pansy's are sacred.

once, theodore left to spend the night with some ravenclaw; the whole room boo-ed him so bad that theo got seriously offended.

the only problem that might surface is how many people pansy's room is meant to take. you see, if it was only the two of you, it'd be perfectly okay; but now there's five boys expecting a good night of sleep.

nevermind if pansy's plans were to have you two sharing the bed to cuddle; a few hours later, mattheo will have you sleeping on top of him (he's warmer!) and sincerely might have the most peaceful sleep with the reassuring weight of you on top of him. should you fall asleep first, mattheo will glare and shush at the other boys, if they happen to make too much noise.

also protects your sleep. if one of them grabs a pen to draw on your face, mattheo won't let that happen. mysteriously, when the hilarious clown (who suggested this idea) woke up in the morning, his whole face was doodled. ha. i wonder who did it.

HOWEVER, mattheo riddle would also be hot and cold. yes and no, clingy and distant.

as soon as some progress is made, or things are the slightest verbalized— mattheo riddle will distance himself so well, that you'll barely catch glimpses of him for a few hours or days.

then, he's all over you; snatching you from a conversation or full-on passing by you on a hallway, picking you up with him and carrying you for some alone time. might be making out, requiring your presence as he smokes (sometimes, he won't even encourage you to talk your tongue off) or sex. this happens when mattheo can't handle how much he misses you anymore.

those days spent apart are already known by the boys. at first, he's a bit silent, overthinking and distant from conversations. then, mattheo gets increasingly moody, rolling his eyes at everything and telling them to shut the fuck up— which, okay, moody much?

it's at this point that lorenzo and theodore exchange knowing glances, and soon draco joins in to participate on the bet of how long it'll take mattheo riddle to crawl back to you.

blaise thinks the bet is stupid— and so he bets the shortest amount of time with all the confidence in the world.

( unsurprisingly he's the one who won the bet. lorenzo accuses him of having mattheo telling him stuff in secret. )

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

this is in case some romantic, possessive feelings blossom between the two of you, or at least within mattheo.

however, the idea of him having one or two girls with whom he goes out on dates or fucks more than three times, a bit more platonically—that's something i can see happening too.

so hear me out,

this one person that makes it obvious that things between the two of are reciprocated. mattheo doesn't want a relationship, you don't want a relationship. he likes to fuck you, you like getting fucked by him. and things are never blurred lines; it seems natural, really. and so it becomes a weird type of friends with benefits because it's not like a real friendship, more of that person you know, you're attracted to, yet are no feelings envolved.

which is perfect for mattheo because thank merlin he doesn't have to go full-on asshole with you and run away around school, like the other six times he did so.

will ask you out on a date a few times, and accept to go on some with you; dates, because that's what outsiders would conclude at the sight of the two of you. in reality, those are more like hangouts, to suppress that silent craving of something more than superficial attraction.

will wrap his arm around you, indulge you, probably pay for your meal or some bullshit you found cool while window shopping. definitely walks you to your dorm, making sure that you got there safely.

will let you sleepover at his bedroom or rest a little before taking his shit and flee out of your bedroom. is more careless with you (in a way that he'll indulge these little things, overstaying and not running away) than with other girls, since he's not afraid to give you hope on something that won't ever happen.

might go to your bedroom if he's having a bad day, or needing to vent. might smoke a cigarette as he does so— and have the decency of doing this near the window, so he won't get your bedroom all smelly from the tobacco or with foggy due to the smoke. should you barge in his room for something similar, well, mattheo is all ears to you, too.

i feel like mattheo would genuinely care about this girl, even if it's platonically so. sincerely sees her as a friend, even though he won't tell you— mattheo hates to sound emotional or attached.

and if you get a serious fling or someone you like?

mattheo will tell you something like, 'yeah, yeah; just don't come back to my bed.' — which might sound so infuriatingly arrogant of him, but the little smile he gives you, reveals the intention behind it: if you don't come back to him, then you won't continue this friends with benefits thing for the sake of satisfying each other's void for something more that both of you are scared to have, well, then that means that you're happy. that you finally found someone for you.

after that, you'll only exchange glances. if mattheo passes by you in the hallway, he'll greet you, or at least nod in acknowledgement of your presence. things might be over, but i feel like mattheo would still have a space for you in his heart— as in, you've become someone that he actually has a lot of consideration for.

and god forbids this boyfriend of yours turns out to be an asshole; mattheo will gladly land him to the infirmary wing, for the sake of an opportunity to think about what he's done.

hey, mattheo riddle does care about you. you're like, a strange friendship to him. might come to you and ask you if you're alright, if you need anything.

but then he'll tease you— you have the worst taste for men, cuz hey, you remember that you did more than just fuck him once, right?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

what would be funny is if these two situationships happen at the same time. because i feel like this fwb one might give the scolding that mattheo needs.

truthfully, mattheo wouldn't admit this weird attachment to you not even to theodore; that's how in denial he is. however, mattheo will ask this fwb about her opinion, or even seek some advice.

in conclusion: i totally feel like mattheo riddle is pretty loyal to these two girls, in different ways; one of them he'd slowly work on fighting over his commitment issues, while the other is a strange type of best friend whom he'd still defend her honor— nevermind if you don't fuck him anymore.

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— tysm for interacting with me! your ask got me giggling and created a whole brainrot because seriously, i can see this 100% happening.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

#slytherin boys #headcanons #slytherin boys react #hp fandom #hp fanfic #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle headcanons #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin #sbr #mattheo riddle imagine

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