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ladysharmaa · 4 months

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My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs.

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.”

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face.

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment.

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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I wanna kiss HSR men on the forehead and tell them I’m proud of them. May I request some HCs of their reaction?

Aventurine practically melts the moment your hands held his face with a warm tenderness as your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks, causing him to close his eyes and eagerly lean into your touch.

He could feel every ounce of love you had towards him in such a simple touch that he wondered how that could even be possible.

How easy you made it seem to be able to convey all your thoughts and feelings in something small like a touch of a hand, a brush of shoulders, or even a nudging of a foot; something that shouldn’t convey as much heavy emotions but did whenever you were the one performing those small gestures.

Not to mention that most of those small but impactful gestures were directed towards him made Aventurine wonder whatever could he -out of everyone else- have possibly done to even remotely deserving of any of it.

‘I’m proud of you Kakavasha.’ You said as you lifted a hand to push away his bangs and press a loving kiss to his forehead, making him whimper and press further against your lips, silently begging you for more. ‘I’m so proud of you.’ You add as you pressed another kiss to his forehead.

Such simple words and a peck to his forehead shouldn’t have so much effect over Aventurine but it did as his eyes shot open the moment he felt you pull away, looking at you with his pretty eyes with something you’ve never seen before as he muttered under his breath.

‘What was that?’ You then asked as Aventurine sighs, leaning back against the bed. ‘I said I wanted more…please can I have more.’

‘You can have as many as your heart desires.’ You tell him, pressing a third and a fourth kiss to his forehead as he allows himself to properly relax under your seemingly magical touch, letting kiss away his thoughts until only you remained.

Argenti would smile sweetly as he watched you push his bangs back to reveal his forehead, feeling your warm breath fan across his skin as your lips closed the distance between you as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

‘I’m so proud of you Aregenti.’ You whispered but the cherry haired knight hear you clear as day.

‘Whatever for my beloved rose.’ He’d replied as he kept you close, wishing for nothing more than to commit this tender moment to his memory ever more.

You shrug. ‘Am I not allowed to say that I’m proud of you in general rather than say it after you’ve done something spectacular? Don’t that seem a little redundant?’ You asked as Argenti chuckled, bringing his face close and nudging his nose gently against your own.

‘It does indeed.’ He agrees before posing a question of his own. ‘But wouldn’t the words loose their meaning after a while if we were to say how proud we are of each other after everything?’

‘No.’ You answered without hesitation as you looked into his pretty eyes that you loved to see first thing in the mornings you’ve shared together thus far. ‘Not if they come from your lips they don’t. I don’t think I could ever grow tired if you were to tell me how proud of me you were.’ You admit and Argenti made a face.

‘Do I not do that enough already?’ He asks genuinely curious as you smile, kissing his cheek.

‘You do but at least let me return the favour now and then. I want to praise my beautiful knight more often than not.’ You murmured against his skin.

Argenti hums as he kisses your forehead. ‘You already do so just by smiling lovingly at me. I don’t need words of praise to fall from your lips when your actions speak far louder but if that’s what you wish, then it shall be granted my beloved rose.’

Sunday

His wings would flutter when you kiss his forehead after a long day of preventing The Family from collapsing in on itself.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ You uttered into his ear, making him gasp as his wings would instinctively twitch at the sound of your voice due to their hyper sensitivity.

Then he would regain composure and smile graciously at you. ‘Thank you my beloved. It is truly a relief knowing that I’m doing right by you to earn your love and your praise, I shall not waste them.’

Sunday lives and breaths on your praises as though they were the only things giving him life. So whenever you do give him praise for anything, Sunday feels more and more validated into continuing whatever he was doing in hopes of earning more in the future.

You had a powerful, powerful man who had an innate need to prove himself to you in order to gain your trust, love and respect and won’t stop until he had it in droves.

All this was within him and locked behind a calm, cool and levelheaded facade.

He may not look like he was heavily affected by your actions and sweet words on the outside but internally his need to keep you happy and proud of him outweighed everything else as the happier you were, the less likely you were to attempt to leave him later on.

Boothill

He impatiently waits for the days where you bless his face with kisses and whatnot.

It’s his ultimate weakness and you knew that face very well whenever you watched as his cheeks went all flushed, making this shark teethed man looked about as harmless as a puppy dog, when in actuality he was anything but harmless.

‘I’m so proud of you.’

You had this man weak in the knees from that alone, but the fact that you went out of your way to press a kiss to his forehead oh so sweetly had him practically kneeling before you in worship.

‘Whatever for darling?’ He’d ask.

‘Just for being genuine yourself.’ You would response, kissing his forehead a second time and pulling back to watch as he smiled dopily.

‘If me just being myself is enough to earn me some forehead kisses and sweet praises from someone as sweet as you, then count me in sweetheart.’ He would then say as he practically melted he felt your hands as they held his face still as you kissed his forehead for a third time.

Boothill thrived off of your affection.

It was his personal drug that he could never get enough of.

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luveline · 4 months

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Bombshell reader and Spencer finding out she’s pregnant

fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for pregnancy / reader wants to be pregnant

“This is such a peculiar feeling.”

Spencer’s ready for you physically before his mind has caught up, his hand reaching out for you despite his eyes steadfast on the book he has held to his knee. Legs crossed, relaxing in the supple leather of one of his armchairs, Spencer almost forgot you were here. “What?” he asks.

“What did I say, or what’s peculiar?”

“What’s peculiar?” he asks, letting the book fall down the side of his thigh.

You shuffle closer to his legs, looking down at your clasped hands. “I feel really weird. For a few days. A bit sick, I think.”

He’s not expecting you to say that; it’s been such a quiet evening, and you haven’t mentioned being ill once yet, despite having slept here and spent the day here in your soft pyjamas. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Because the thing is, Spencer loves you more than he’s ever loved anybody. It’s immediately unnerving for him to hear you aren’t well, because he doesn't want you to have a single shred of strife in your life, not even a papercut. He pulls you closer and closer, looking up into your face, begging to know what’s wrong and unashamed or caring so much. “You’re worrying me,” he prods when you don’t answer.

“Sorry, I’m just…” You lean forward gently. Spencer takes your weight to his side, his cheek to your chest. You face down, wrapping an arm behind his shoulder. “Just have a funny feeling,” you whisper.

“What kind of feeling?” he asks. Spencer could tell you a hundred different facts on funny feelings, gut feelings, and intuition, but that’s not strictly helpful right now. Then again, he knows he’s loved, and so he says the most burning one aloud before he forgets, “Intuition is based on the collating of facts by your brain to predict future events. It’s usually unconscious.”

You touch his hair mindlessly. “Is it usually right?”

“I think that’s up to opinion. Why, angel?” he asks, letting his voice slip into a deeper, settled rasp. He hopes it says what he’s trying to prove to you every single day, that he will take care of you for as long as you’ll let him. “What are you thinking is wrong?”

“I don’t know if it’s wrong…”

He’s so confused. “You can tell me anything,” he assures you, pulling at your hands. There’s room in the armchair for you so long as you’re okay with putting your legs over his, and you are, curling up next to him with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

“I know, Spencer. Just let me think about it for a minute.”

“Okay.” He takes your hand once again. For a few minutes he waits in the quiet, rubbing small circles into the back of your hand, trying hard not to look at you lest you feel pressured to talk.

“Okay,” you say quietly, “I have a few things in that bag I brought over for emergencies, you know? In the bathroom. And I have a pregnancy test in there, so I’m going to take it. How do you… how would you feel about that?”

“I’d feel whatever you needed me to,” he says instinctively, the word pregnancy on a flashing look in his mind’s eye. “You think you might be pregnant?”

“Before I take it, before, is that a bad thing if I am?”

He’s shocked to see you acting this way, so far from your regularly scheduled programming. Spencer always assumed that if you ever did become pregnant, he’d learn about it like everybody else. You’d tell him with a big smile or a proud kiss and go about your day. You know what you're worth, and to be pregnant is your decision, your body.

“Of course not,” he says, frowning.

“Are you sure?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because it’s something that would affect both of us?”

“No, of course, of course, angel, I just mean, why would it ever be a bad thing?” He puts his hand on your neck. “Unless you think it is.”

“This isn’t something I get to just decide by myself, this decision. I can’t make it alone,” you say.

“Yes you can.” He cups your neck. “But I’d love to make it with you.”

You smile. He can tell you’re going to share your thoughts with him before you do, your eyes clearing with worry for now, and instead shining with your usual, breath-stealing light. “I hope I am,” you say.

He hadn’t known he’d feel this way until right this second. “I hope you are too.”

Your giggle sounds ever so slightly teary and hug him. You kiss his neck, and then you spring out of his lap to drag him with you to the bathroom. It’s a straightforward process but the waiting is agony, you and him sitting on the counter by the sink basin, hands squeezing at each other's fingers with the test baking on his thigh.

“This is crazy,” you murmur. “We were having a normal day.”

“Normal to amazing would be good,” he says.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Well, I’ll have to make some more money.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says with a laugh. “Do you know how expensive children are?”

“How did your mom afford you and your three PhDs?”

“I got most of that stuff for free,” he says, “on account of being smart for my age.”

You laugh softly. “That’s one way to say it.”

Spencer leans down to kiss your shoulder. “We’ll have to move in together. Like, forever.”

“Oh no.” You prop your head on his. “I basically live here anyways. All the time.”

We’ll have to get married, Spencer thinks, but that’s not necessarily true, and then thinks it should probably be a surprise, before he says, “And I’ll have to ask you to marry me.”

“Not just because I’m–”

“No, not just because you’re pregnant,” he says, though neither of you know yet if that’s true. “Never.”

“That would be admirable.”

He doesn’t know about that, but he knows one thing. “I love you. Really. More than anything.”

“Don’t worry, Spencer. I love you too.”

“Would that be something you wanted?” he asks quietly.

“I’ll say yes whenever you want to ask me,” you say, equally as quiet. “I would’ve said yes five years ago.” You weren’t together five years ago, and he believes it anyways.

Spencer kisses up your cheek and pulls you into his side with a last press of his lips to your temple. The test on his thigh hasn’t changed. It’s a digital one, so you’ll know for sure just as soon as it’s ready. He feels like he can’t breathe right, waiting, waiting, wishing.

“I’m with you no matter what,” he says under his breath.

“I know.” You turn your lips into his cheek, breath fanning his skin. “You know pregnancy makes a woman more beautiful, right?”

“I don’t see how that could possibly happen to you, but I’m excited nonetheless.”

You laugh and smile into his cheek, kissing the slight hollow of it tenderly.

On your thigh, the test blinks to Pregnant.

You don’t notice, too busy kissing him still, your smile hard to ignore as you mumble, “If I’m pregnant, and we’re gonna do all those things you said before, I promise I’ll make you happy, Spence. I’m gonna be good to you. We’re going to be so, so happy, we’re gonna have a house with a garden and a hundred types of flowers, and we’ll keep bees at the end of it, and we’ll have two libraries for all your books, three if you want it, and–”

“I’ll make you happy,” he echoes, “I promise. I’m gonna take care of everything.”

“–the nursery…” You stop kissing him, hearing what it is he hasn’t managed to say in the wavering tone of his voice. You look down as he passes you the test.

“No matter what you want,” he swears.

Your happy tears are plentiful and not what he’s expecting. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry with your legs hanging off of the counter, the test digging into his shoulder, drawing a line over his skin as you check it to be sure and prompt another round of tears. They aren’t loud tears. Your sniffles are half giggle.

“We never do things in the right order,” you say, blissfully happy.

“I don’t think there’s a wrong one.” His turn now to press kisses to your tacky cheek.

“We used to hold hands under the round table.” You shudder with tears.

Lovelorn and unsure, not even dating, your fingers sewn together under the conference table as someone spoke you through the case of the day. His heart in his throat, and your thumb rubbing circles so slowly into his skin his wrist would ache for hours afterwards remembering. You and Spencer have always done things in your own order, and he’d never say wrong.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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yourstrulyrika · 5 months

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soft sex with leon kennedy ♡

ahhh i love this man. comfort character fr.

anyway no warnings. fem!reader and lots of love praise and aftercare :3 smut below the cut! probably the longest fic i ever wrote so pls tell me if it’s actually decent. i’m not used to writing long fics

a reminder rqs are open btw :3

Leon struggles with telling you how much he loves you. He’s always been a man of few words since you knew him. does that mean he doesn’t love you? no way in hell. he loves you more than you’ll ever know.

It’s visible with the way he’s so gentle with you. When holding you, when talking to you, sleeping with you, making love with you.

Because Leon doesn’t fuck; he’s making love.

he’s so gentle, putting you on a pedestal, treating you like a queen you are. his eyes are on you as he kneels down in front of you, hands already on thighs and gently squeezing them. you swear you can see little hearts in his eyes with how in love he is with you.

“That’s it baby, so good for me. Always so pretty, the prettiest girl in the entire world.” and he’s saying this so lovingly as he takes his time with you. first, he places loving kisses all over your thighs, mumbling how much he loves you after each kiss. he finally tugs off your panties and lifts your thighs up, letting out a soft moan at the sight in front of him.

“Good girl. Love you so much, princess, can’t believe you’re mine.” with those words, he places your thighs on his shoulders, burying his face in your puffy cunt. he loves it there, loves when you close your thighs around his head. he presses light kisses on your clit, going down to finally dive in and eat you out like a starved man he is. truth be told, when he’s between your legs, he always loses himself, always in his own world with how good it feels for him. always praising you, even when it’s barely audible.

“Mm, fuck, you’re just perfect aren’t you? Sweet girl. Just sit there and let me take care of you.” he loves your taste. always spends so much time on your pussy, making you come at least two times before he even thinks of himself.

when you start trembling, he knows you’re close. he speeds up his movements, clumsily reaching out to hold your hand as his hand rests on your thigh. and then you cum — and he feels like heaven’s greeting him right now. you’re squirming, because you’re sensitive and yet he never stops eating you out; quite the opposite. he makes it a challenge to make you cum faster than the orgasm before the next one. with how sensitive you are it’s not hard — he starts fingering you, gently curling his fingers to reach your sweet spot that makes you spread and lift your legs higher.

“Could spend forever between your legs, love. Fuck, you taste too good for your own good. How can I not grow drunk on you?” all he thinks about in this moment is you, you, you — your face, your pussy, your hand tugging on his hair. he loves when you do that, loves when you use him for your pleasure.

“That’s it, angel. Jus’ use me all you want, ‘m all yours, my cock is yours, everything I own is yours. ‘m here to please you, baby, please,” he actually starts to get whiny at his own words — cock so hard it’s throbbing against his stomach but he just doesn’t want to stop until you cum again. he has to see you cum again — it’s like a blessing to him.

when you finally cum, he has this big, proud grin on his face, eyes hazy but full of love for you. you can notice just how hard he is — and yet he doesn’t care until you ask him to slide in. of course he’ll oblige, anything for his princess.

he reaches out to take your hand in his again, guiding his cock inside with the other. both of you moan at the same time, you because you feel him snug so well inside, him because he feels your gummy, warm walls already wrapping around him like a blanket. he feels like he’s about to cum right there and now, but he holds back, wanting to make you cum again.

“Fuck, you’re made for me. You’re so perfect, I love you so much. You feel so damn good.”

Leon’s not rushing it. his pace is actually pretty balanced, not wanting to overwhelm you. he peppers your neck with gentle love bites and hickeys, all the way to your chest where he sucks your nipples like his life depended on it. fondles your breast with one hand, sucking on the other one while still holding your hand. he’s searching for that spot you love so well — and when he finds it, he’s so proud of himself.

“Right there baby? Yeah? Good girl, taking me so well, this pussy was made for me.” he’s adjusting his position, arching his hips to just hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly until he feels you squirming.

he loves being drunk on you, he loves drowning himself in you, your embrace, your scent. he loves everything about you. the way you scratch his back, dig your fingers in when you’re close — he moans so loudly at that you’re almost surprised if it wasn’t for him thrusting in you so well. you two are so close, but he cums right after you do — he wouldn’t dare cum before you.

he stays inside you for a moment, just staring into you lovingly. he presses a sweet kiss to your head, before slowly pulling out and picking you up.

“Cmon, babygirl. Did so well for me, time to take care of you.”

he carries you to the bathroom, cleans you up, makes sure you’re hydrated, well fed and clean before actually tucking you in bed, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest so you feel his heartbeat as you come down from your high.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut

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sinofwriting · 5 months

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Every Kiss Begins With Tabs - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,544 Summary: Max and her have a tradition that was born from their first kiss. Note(s): The idea for this fic popped into my head one night, didn’t know what driver to do with it, and then quickly realized Max is the only option with him driving for a literal energy drink company. Also, this features Max and Charles being best friends, because your honor, I love them. (and features a bit of Ferrari bashing, because of course)

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At the end of their first date, Max had watched as she shyly reached into her purse, fishing for something, before pressing a small thing into his hand and instinctively he held it. He didn’t even get a second to figure out what it was, since she kissed him as soon as it was pressed into his hand. It was small, barely a second, just a peck. But it had made him flush, staring at her with wide eyes before he murmured a quiet again.

Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth for a second, before she nodded at his hand, the one she had pressed something into. For the kiss. He remembers her mumble, making her all the more cute to him, how she was shy yet bold in the same breath.

It had been near painful to look away from her, but he forced his eyes down as he uncurled his hand and saw a generic soda tab sitting in his palm. Her words rang in his ears and memories of watching girls in school give them to boys run through his head and he’s pressing their hands together, keeping it between their palms as he kisses her.

—

Max’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he messes with the tab on his can of Red Bull. The sound of the press and his fellow drivers' voices washing over him. When it easily tears off, he pockets it, just as he’s asked a question.

“Over these last few months, you’ve been a lot happier. Many people thought it was you winning races making you so happy, but with Singapore happening, that has been disproven. Is there something other than winning that makes you so happy?” Max’s eyes darted over to his press officer, personal questions were on the no list for after races. She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and he has to resist letting his brows press together. She clearly didn’t think this was personal and in nature he supposes it wasn’t, but it was leading. Raising the microphone to his lips, he speaks. “Well, I think I’d have a very boring, shit life if the only thing that made me happy was winning.” The reporter coughs, “Of course. But nothing new in your life?” “Not that I can think of.” There’s a frown on the reporter's face, but they don’t ask anything else, and the session is called to a close.

“I fucking hate reporters.” Max murmurs as he walks out the room. Charles snorts, hearing him and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I couldn’t tell.” “Haha. Was a good race for you today, though.” “I feel like I need a fucking bodyguard. I’ve been getting threats like crazy.” Max winces, having seen some for himself and also knowing from experience how bad they could get. “Ferrari hasn’t hired any for you?” He scoffs, “No, too much faith, I suppose.” “Stick close, come to Red Bull’s hotel with me, I’ve got an extra room and security.” “Ooh.” Charles teases, poking at his side as they exit the building. “Look at the golden boy with his security.” Max rolls his eyes, but feigns away as he reaches out again. “Are you coming or not?” He scoffs again. “Of course. I’m too pretty to be killed.” It’s Max’s turn to scoff, “You're something, alright.” he mutters.

Entering Red Bull’s garage with Charles would feel weird if it weren't for the fact that for nearly all of this season Bradley, Christian, Tom, GP, or himself had all been sneaking the Ferrari driver in. Max knows that Christian is hoping with them allowing Charles access to their garage and helping hide him away from Ferrari that he’ll join their team, and Max isn’t too proud to say that he’s started to wish that too.

“I’ve gotta get something from Christian first.” Max murmurs when Charles makes a confused hum when they don’t immediately go to his driver’s room. “Also, might want to text something to collect your stuff.” “Andrea will get it. I just need the hotel and room number so he can send some stuff over.” “Don’t want to sleep in Red Bull branded clothes?” Charles sniffs, sticking his chin in the air, perfectly making a haughty face. “Of course not. I have fashion sense.”

—

“You want room service or something delivered from somewhere?” Charles stares at him, “Mate.” Max grins at him before returning his gaze to his phone. “Had to ask. We do have Brazil next weekend after all.” “I want all the tacos in the world right now.” “Margaritas as well?” It’s silent for a second, “why not. Just one though.” Max rolls his eyes, typing out the number ten before hitting send.

“Food has been ordered.” “Thank god. I’m starving.” “Not going to offer to pay?” Max jokes, even though he’d refuse. “God no.” He scoffs before grinning at him. “Thank you, Max, honestly.” “It’s no problem.”

“When will the food get here?” Charles asks nearly thirty minutes later as Max unlocks the door. “Already here.” He tells him, opening the door up and stepping through.

Tossing his backpack to the armchair, he doesn’t see the confused look on Charles’ face or how it grows more confused when Max fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out, a grin on his face as he stands just beside the suite's sofa.

Charles nearly stumbles when a girl appears out of nowhere, words gathering on his tongue, only for them to die before they can form when she takes whatever it is out of Max’s hand and kisses him. He knows his mouth is open, jaw dropped, as he stares at the two.

“Hello.” Max murmurs, pulling away after pressing another kiss to her lips. Her head is tilted up a bit to look at him, nose scrunching a little as she smiles. “Hi. Well done on the race.” He grins and is unable to resist kissing her again before finally separating from her, only to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his side as he turns them both to face Charles. “Charles, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” The other driver blinks at them for a few seconds before smiling. “Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” He tells her, stepping forward to greet her with a hug, giving Max a thumbs up when she easily goes along with it. Max snorts at the thumbs up.

“Congrats on your race as well, Charles. Always nice to see you on the podium.” “Oh.” He can feel his cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. “Well, it is always nice to be there, even if he is always taking the top spot.” She laughs and then she’s ushering them both to sit down at the small table nearly overflowing with food. “Oh my god.” Charles breaths, staring at it all. “It’s beautiful.” “I think you're just hungry, mate.” Max remarks and Charles notices how she passes whatever Max handed her before they kissed back to the driver before giving him a peck on the lips. “Of course, I’m hungry.” His eyes wander over all the food, all the tacos, and he knows that Andrea will be pissed at their next session when Charles tells him what he ate, but he knows he won’t regret it. Even when Andrea makes the session a triple.

“Can I ask a question?” Charles asks, after they are done eating. The twelve tacos he ate and two margaritas he had in combination with pleasant company made him feel content. “Is it a stupid one?” “Max.” She playfully scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.” “What is with the thing? The small thing you pass back and forth.” “Oh,” her eyes are a little wide and she seems to have stiffened and it has Charles' eyes widened. “You do not have to answer. I was just curious. You can of course tell me to shut up.” “No, it’s okay.” She shares a look with Max. “It’s just a habit, I don’t even really think about it anymore.”

Charles watches as she carefully extends her hand and opens it so he can stare at the thing the couple has been exchanging. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s a tab to a Red Bull can.

“Before I kissed Max for the first time, I gave him a tab from a soda can. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” His face softens at the explanation, and this whole weekend he has missed Alex, but now more than ever he wishes that she was able to come with him. “That is very sweet.” His lips then curl into a smirk and he looks at Max. “Must make sex uncomfortable though.” “You mother,” Max cuts himself off as he hits Charles with a pillow, his fellow driver howling with laughter. Hitting him with a pillow again, Max looks at her to see her laughing as well, face bright with joy and his hand is ducking into his pocket pulling out a spare tab he always keeps on him, pressing it into her hand before kissing her, ignoring the fake sounds of throwing up from Charles as he does.

@gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67

#f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

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bruisedboys · 2 years

Text

dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend. his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lip so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!�� He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

#★ mal writes!#(mal pushes herself past her limit)#ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #stevesmixtape!

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cameronluvr · 25 days

Text

BABY TRAPPED PART 2 — dark!rafe x fem reader

summary: you finally gain the courage to tell rafe the news, but things turn aggressive once you find out he replaced your birth control pills.

warnings: teenage pregnancy, mentions of forced pregnancy, fighting, arguing, manipulating, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, blackmailing, choking, toxic!rafe, dark!rafe

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ PART 1

some days later, you gain the courage to tell rafe. you stayed up most nights thinking for hours about what to say, and how to say it. you rehearsed hundreds of different ways in your head, but all of them terrified you.

was he going to be happy? was he going to be angry? you had no idea.

you sit on your bed, staring at rafe’s contact number on your phone. you’d been staring at it for the past 5 minutes, being too anxious to call him. ‘i need to get it over and done with’ you thought to yourself.

and with that thought in your head, your thumb presses on the call button. your breathing sped up, and your fear sank in as you watch it ring. seconds later, he picks up.

“hey” he says.

“hey rafe.. uh.. do you think i could come over? i need to talk to you about something… it’s kinda serious” you hesitate to explain.

“yeah sure, everything ok?” he asks. “uh— i’ll just talk to you when i get there… bye” you quickly say before pressing the red button to end the call, not even giving him chance to say anything else.

you didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone. you needed to see him in person, so you hopped off your bed and jogged downstairs. you call out to your parents to let them know you’re going out and that you wouldn’t be too long, you wouldn’t dare tell them you were going to see rafe.

— you arrive at tannyhill around 20 minutes later, rushing to the front door only to be greeted by ward when you knocked. “y/n… are you here for sarah?..” he asks awkwardly, knowing you are going through a rough patch with rafe, and that you two were considered done for good. “no, uh.. i’m actually here to see rafe..” you reply, seeing him raise his eyebrows.

“rafe!” he calls out to his son, who is already making his way downstairs. “hey y/n, come in” he says, stepping in front of his dad and placing his hand on the door, motioning for you to come inside with his other.

ward rolls his eyes and walks away, knowing you two are on and off constantly. but he obviously didn’t know the real reason you were here.

“rafe…” you gulp, looking at him with teary eyes as he shuts the door. “baby— y/n.” rafe corrects himself, remembering you aren’t his girlfriend anymore. “come on, let’s go upstairs” he says, holding your hand and guiding you to the stairs.

in the back of his mind, he knew the reason you were here. he was the one who replaced your birth control pills, after all. he knew you’d come running to him crying in no time. he smirks as he walks behind you going up the stairs. you can’t see his face, but he is proud. proud that his plan definitely worked. why else would you be here?

once you reached his bedroom, rafe shut the door behind you. “what’s up? come, sit” he says, walking over to his bed to sit down, patting the space next to him.

you walk over and join him on his bed, feeling oddly comforted by his behavior. he isn’t usually this soft with you, especially not when you’re going through a breakup. “rafe.. i, uh-” you stutter, trying to explain.

“i don’t know how to tell you this but uh…” you say, shaking and trembling as you slowly pull 3 positive pregnancy tests from your jacket pocket. rafe looks down at your hands as you reveal them to him.

“i’m pregnant.” the dreaded words came out of your mouth, expecting him to be angry, confused, or upset. but he wasn’t. he reached his hands to yours, gently taking the tests from you to see them for himself. you watched as a smile appeared on his face, shocking you a bit.

“you’re pregnant?” he asks, happy and shocked, pretending he had no idea this was coming. he stood up now, pacing around the room and sifting his hand through his hair, taking in the news that he was going to be a dad.

“yeah…” you say, sniffling and rubbing your nose. “baby, don’t be upset” he calmly says, his tone as soft as ever as he sits down next to you again, this time closer, pulling you into a side hug to comfort you.

“how can i not be upset?” you ask, tears falling down your face now. his smile suddenly dropped. “why are you upset?” he frowns now, pulling away from the hug, confused as if you were supposed to be happy or something.

“we’re not together, rafe. i don’t even know how i got fucking pregnant in the first place, i’m on birth control! i knew those damn things were a stupid scam” you quietly yell, like a loud whisper, letting out your frustration but not wanting the whole house to know your business.

rafe waits a few seconds before answering, watching you as you sob next to him. “were you on birth control?” he asks with a suspicious tone, making you frown your eyebrows and look at him. “what?” you ask, sniffling.

“you sure you were on birth control?” he asks with a smirk on his face now. what the fuck is he talking about? “rafe, what?” you ask again, widening your eyes and waiting for an answer.

“maybe, just maybe,” he starts, standing up from the bed to stand in front of you. “maybe what?” you start to get frustrated. “maybe i swapped your pills for fakes. maybe i didn’t” he shrugs, acting like it were no big deal. your face dropped.

“you did what?!” you yelled, standing up now, coming face to face with him. “what the fuck is the matter with you? why would you do that?!” you yell, demanding answers.

“because i want you back.” he simply answers, no other explanation.

“you want me back? so you get me pregnant?!” you’re yelling now, not caring if his family hears or not. “okay. will you take me back?” he asks, knowing your answer.

“no!”

“and that’s why i did it.”

he is cruel. he had this planned out for god knows how long. “rafe, what the fuck?!” you scream at him.

“having a baby with you means you’re stuck with me forever. and that’s what you get for running away from me. running off with the pogues” he smirks, leaning closer to your face to torment you. you harshly shove him away from you, making him angry.

“don’t fuckin’ do that” he shoves you back, much harder than you did, making you stumble backwards. “ow, rafe” you frown, about to hit him before he grabs your throat, squeezing it hard.

“don’t you ever fuckin’ push me like that” he warns as his fingers tighten around your neck, cutting off your ability to breathe properly. “rafe…” you struggle.

“i got you pregnant on purpose, baby. and you’re not gonna do anything about it. let this be a lesson to you” he roughly pushes you away by your throat, letting go of it as you gasp and catch your breath.

you look at him with quivering lips, tears forming in your eyes as you try to find words to say. “i-,” you huff. “you’re a fucking psychopath” you say, shaking your head at him as tears fall from your eyes.

“don’t call me that.” he raises his hand to you, making you flinch. you don’t say or do anything back, you just stand and cry as he looks at you, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes.

you couldn’t bare to be in the room with him anymore. “i’m leaving.” you say, attempting to walk past him but he steps in front of you, stopping you. “no, you’re not.” he tells you. “yes i am, rafe, now move” you try to push past him again, but he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies are against each other’s.

“why? so you can go get an abortion? get rid of my baby?” he asks, knowing that was likely your first thought. “you know what, yeah! i can’t have a fucking baby with you, rafe!” you start to yell again, making him grip you harder, his fingernails digging into your skin above your clothes.

“well, you are, so” he shrugs, making a face as if there was nothing else you could do, no other choice you had. “you seriously want a kid, with me? what do you even know about kids?” you ask, wanting to know his whole thought process behind this.

“i know i’d be a better father than mine ever was.” he says. “i doubt that” you scoff, finding his words amusing. “you doubt that? what, you think i’d do the same to my son what he did to me?” he asks, frowning, you both know his dad wasn’t the best. he had a favorite child, he cherished her, and didn’t acknowledge his other two — and look how that ended up.

“no, i don’t, rafe,” you sigh. “then why don’t you give me a chance?” he asks before you can finish speaking, making you sigh again. “because we’re supposed to love each other before we have a baby together, and that went away a long time ago for me…” you explain, knowing it would hurt his feelings but you wish he’d just sympathize with you for a second.

“i love you…”

“no you don’t, rafe.”

“yes i do”

you don’t say anything. you just accept the fact that he isn’t going to change his mind. you sigh, realizing you literally have no way out of this. you couldn’t tell anyone. your parents would be ashamed, they’d probably scream at you and kick you out of the house. then what? you’d be pregnant with nowhere to go.

the room fell silent for a second. you hear him huff through his nose. “y/n, i do love you. i promise you. i can show you that, i promise i’ll change and be better for you” he says, his grip still on your waist, but less aggressively now. he’s holding you now, just like how he used to.

but you’ve heard those words a thousand times. he never changes, and never keeps his promises. “rafe…” you gulp, not wanting this to happen. you don’t want his baby, you want to get rid of it. you can’t raise a baby, you’re not even 20 yet.

“baby, it’ll be alright. shh, come ‘ere” he says, pulling you into a hug when he notices you crying again. you quietly sob into his chest, feeling him reach his head down slightly.

his mouth was next to your ear. “you’re not gonna get rid of this baby, m’kay?” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. his hug felt more like he was strangling you, you felt like you couldn’t breathe in his arms, or even in his presence.

“but—” you cry.

“shh…” he strokes your hair. “if you even try to get rid of it, i’ll do something i really don’t wanna do, okay?” he quietly threatens into your ear, gripping you tightly again to hurt you, with all intentions of hurting you worse if you go against his wishes, maybe even your friends, too. or your family. he’s going to teach you a lesson either way. sooner or later, you’ll be his.

PART 2 AHHHHH. part 1 got so many likes hellooooo???! thank you guys so much for supporting me!!! i’ve gained nearly 50 followers in just 2 days of posting! <3 i really hope you guys like this part, OFC rafe has to be as toxic as ever :)

@cameronluvr

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #toxic!rafe cameron #toxic!rafe #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe

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writingforstraykids · 3 months

Note

I keep thinking about dilf!Felix like him being your besties dad or something….

-🎀

I swear I've been staring at this for so long, debating if I should do a full fic or just some thoughts. Well, thank my dear Azzy @galaxycatdrawz for this, because you made his thoughts go wild. Basically I just had to transform his whole little plan into a fic. There will be 2nd chapter (including smut) but have fun with this for now.🖤

Finding home in your heart

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader (mention of Minchan | Jisung)

Word Count: 7571

Summary: Felix got cheated on by his wife repeatedly and ends up heartbroken after the discovery. His adoptive daughter, your best friend, tells you the whole story and asks you to move in as you're struggling to find a place. Your only problem; you had a crush on Felix for ages and living with him isn't making it easier...

Warnings/Tags: angst, emotional hurt!comfort, fluff, insecure!lix, domestic shit, baking, cuddles, slowburn (ig?), first kiss, age difference (8 years, it's legal since this fic is for adults, chill out)

PART TWO

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Felix’s love life had been nothing but a steady stream of predictable days blending into years. He would have never doubted his beautiful wife and would have never second-guessed her love for him. They had gotten married early and soon found out his wife was incapable of carrying his children. So, after some consideration, they adopted a young girl and raised her like their own. She had grown into a smart young woman, and Felix couldn’t be more proud of her. Given the age gap of only ten years he had always been rather close with her and later you, her best friend.

One night he decided to surprise his wife, coming home early as his daughter was staying at yours. What greeted him wasn’t the usual warmth and coziness of his home but the sight of his wife in a certain setting no man wants to find the love of his life in with another man. For a moment, Felix found himself frozen in place, the safe foundation of his life slowly crumbling away beneath his feet. He whispered her name in disbelief, only to find out that this had been going on for years. Felix felt like his whole life shattered to pieces and the betrayal left an ugly taste of bitterness on his lips. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?

“And then she just left,” your best friend ends her story, and your eyes grow even wider than they have already been.

“You’re kidding?” you ask, shocked.

“Apparently, she said something about how this shit has been going on for years, that she never really loved him, and that she’ll leave until he finds a new place,” she rages on and paces her bedroom angrily. “Oh, and I’m just another burden he talked her into,” she scoffs, and your frown deepens.

“You won’t stay here, right?” you ask cautiously. You can’t imagine she will, but still.

“Oh, hell no. I’ll go with Dad, she can piss off,” she shakes her head and drops onto her mattress. “The perk of being not related to her is that I can push her out of my life for good,” she snorts, and you gently pat her back. “I feel so bad for him,” she sighs.

“It must’ve been a huge shock,” you nod, your heart feeling heavy. Felix has always been kind to you from day one. Whenever your family was struggling, he helped out, even if it was simply by taking you with them to theme parks, the movies, or shopping. Felix was only eight years older than you and ten years older than your best friend, so the older you got, the more he felt like an older friend instead of your best friend’s father. Also, he was stunningly handsome, but that wasn’t relevant right now.

“He’s trying to hide it, but I know how shitty he feels right now,” she tells you worriedly. “I mean, he’s never been with anyone else and-.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you assure her gently. “He has such a kind heart, I’m sure someone will love him, truly.”

“I will thoroughly check the next person. You’ll have to help me then, go all detective on them,” she smirks, and you agree, laughing.

A gentle knock at the door interrupts you, and Felix opens the door flashing you a tired smile as a greeting before glancing at his daughter. “Channie called, he has a spare place we can have.”

“Just like that?” she asks baffled.

Felix chuckles weakly and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, just like that. I told him I’d pay, but Minho insisted they don’t need the place, and it’s all paid off.”

“How convenient,” she smirks and rolls her eyes. “Typical uncle Min,” she grins.

“Yeah,” he laughs and sighs softly. “You think you can get everything ready in the next few days?”

“You really can’t wait to get out of here, huh?” she laughs, and his smile dies, eyes clouding with pain.

“Yeah, I guess,” he nods and clears his throat as his daughter looks at him apologetically. “Well, let me know when you’re hungry, and we can order something,” he announces, putting on a smile and quickly pulling the door closed.

“See?” she whispers. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

You hum gently and pat your best friend’s knee. “Well, I can help you move, I have nothing to do those next few weeks.”

“You’re so sweet,” she giggles and hops up, ripping the door open. “Dad, Y/nnie says she’s gonna help us move our stuff!” she shouts downstairs.

“Lovely,” Felix shouts back halfheartedly and flinches as his daughter slams the door closed again. “Fucks sake, this woman,” he snorts and stands still in the living room for a moment. He chews on his lower lip as the many memories he made in this very room crash over him like a wave, trying to drown him. “You’re such a dumbass,” he whispers to himself.

“No, you’re not, she’s just a massive bitch,” you speak up gently, suddenly standing in the living room with him.

He blinks at you with wide, confused eyes before a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Mhm, you could say that. Doesn’t make me any wiser, letting her fool me for the past ten years,” he huffs softly and rubs his face. “I just feel bad for her,” he says, and you know he means your best friend upstairs. “All I always wanted for her was a stable home after everything she went through.”

“Look at her, you did great,” you tell him, and he chuckles weakly.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” he waves you off and blinks at you surprised as you offer him a hug. He accepts it after a short moment of hesitation and bites back a laugh as you pat his back encouragingly.

“You’ll be okay…she’ll never find someone better, so fuck her. It’s her loss,” you tell him, and Felix snorts before letting go of you and grabbing his phone.

“We’ll see,” he hums softly, subtly bringing some distance between the two of you again. “You’re gonna stay for dinner?” he asks, and you gently shake your head.

“I promised Mum I’d be home for dinner today,” you tell him, and he nods gently.

“You need a ride?” he offers, and you wave him off.

“I’ll be fine, promise,” you assure him and exchange your goodbyes.

One week later

You put down the boxes you carried inside and look around with wide eyes. “Wow, Min wasn’t lying. This place is huge.”

“Right? I didn’t quite believe it as well,” your best friend giggles and puts down her boxes as well.

“Why would I lie about that, huh?” Minho asks playfully offended, adding some boxes on the floor next to yours. “You think we’d give your dad and you some shabby place? You think that lowly of us?”

Chan pokes his side, making him squeak and giggles as Minho playfully raises his fists to fight him. “Relax, no one’s calling you a liar, baby.”

“Sure hope so,” he teases and naturally intertwines their hands, pulling Chan with him. “You haven’t seen the view from up here yet,” he announces and waves you after him.

You follow the pair of them onto the huge balcony, and your breath hitches. From up here, you can see parts of the city and the ocean, and still it’s so peaceful up here.

“How’s your dad, kiddo?” Minho asks your best friend after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Worse than he admits,” she answers, and Minho hums gently. “If you ask me, he’s fucking heartbroken and feels worthless. If you ask him, he’s okay and just a little caught up in his thoughts,” she further explains.

“Give him time,” Chan tells her gently and sighs, looking down at the ocean. “Ten years is a lot, you know?”

The door to the balcony opens, and Felix steps outside, laughing at you all. “Seriously? You’re out here enjoying the view while I’m carrying all those boxes?” he asks, and you all start laughing before hurrying back inside to help him.

Once everything is inside, Minho and Chan give you a tour through the house and you wonder what Felix and your friend would do with all this space. The couple soon leaves again to give them some space to settle in.

Your best friend strolls through the house and frowns softly. “You’re alright?” Felix asks her, frowning softly. “I know it’s not home, but we can make it work, it’ll just need some time and-.”

“Dad, home is wherever you are, relax,” she laughs, and Felix nods, stunned, looking adorably touched by her words. “I just…this place is huge.”

“It is,” he nods. “I have no idea what the hell they had planned for this.”

“Nothing useful, as Min put it,” you chime in, and Felix grins at your remark.

“I’ll feel so lonely here if you’re at work,” she speaks up after a moment, and Felix’s face softens.

“Dear, there’ll be a point in your life when you move out and everything. I won’t always be around,” he says, and she glares at him.

“Don’t say shit like that, you’re only ten years older than I am, it’ll take a while,” she points out, and he snorts but gives in, remaining quiet. “Y/nnie, how’s the hunt for a flat going?” she asks.

“I already told you it’s shit,” you sigh softly, not quite picking up on her true intentions behind that question. “It’s either too expensive or so much out of town it’s not exactly convenient.”

“Oh, you’re going to move out?” Felix asks, busying himself with one of the boxes.

“I want to, my parents could use the space for something else,” you nod.

“Dad?” she asks, drawing out the word with a sweet tone.

“What do you want?” he asks, not even looking up.

“She could move in with us,” she says, and you frown at her. Felix looks up, confused, and tilts his head at her. “She can’t find a place, I worry about getting lonely here…you could use some more company as well before you’re fully depressed and-.”

“Will you stop?” he snaps at her. “I’m not depressed, I’m fine besides the fact that I got cheated on after wasting ten years of my life,” he continues and shakes his head at her. “Stop reading into it that much, I’ll start believing you at this point.”

You lower your gaze at the floor and awkwardly shuffle on your feet. “Gosh, relax,” she sighs. “That just proved my point.”

Felix throws the contents of the box back inside and pushes himself up. “I’m getting some fresh air. And yes, you can move in if you want to, it’s not like we’d lack space or whatever,” he says before leaving the two of you.

“Nice one,” you sigh softly.

“What?” she groans and rolls her eyes. “You know I’m right.”

“And that makes it better?” you chuckle, and she huffs softly. “Fine, fine, I’ll go apologize…but would you?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh softly. “I’d feel like I’m intruding,” you argue gently.

“Never,” she shakes her head firmly. “Also, you’re here every day anyway, so nothing changes,” she grins before sighing softly. “Dad?” she shouts, and you roll your eyes at her.

Should you? Move in with your best friend and her heartbroken, conveniently handsome adoptive father? That could only go wrong, right?

You join them on the balcony and sigh softly, meeting your best friend’s eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

She shouts in joy and pulls you into a tight hug, hopping excitedly. “You’re the best best friend I could’ve ever wished for!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, catching Felix smirking at the two of you.

Three weeks later

You hum to yourself as you make your way from the kitchen to the living room area. Your best friend is staying the night at her boyfriend’s, and Felix is out on Stray Kids duty, as you jokingly call it. So, for now, you have the whole house to yourself. You moved in fully about two weeks ago, and your new room is bigger than you ever dared to imagine. There’s an attached bathroom as well, and your few things look ridiculous, trying to fill up all that space you have now.

You grab your phone and check your messages before scrolling through some news. Refreshing the page, a new article appears on top, and you realize it’s about Felix. Curiously, you click on it, and your eyes widen, realizing it’s about what happened with his wife. You read through it and smile sadly; Felix seems to have tried putting it as respectfully and vague as he could. You don’t support what that woman did for years one bit, but you also know how their fans can get so you’re glad Felix tries to stay neutral in public.

You glance up from your phone as the front door opens downstairs, and Felix comes up the stairs only a little later. Looking at him, you can tell he was crying, and your heart sinks to your stomach, seeing how tired he looks. His eyes meet yours, and you swallow softly as he stops in his tracks as if he just remembered you live here as well. “You’re okay?” you ask softly, and for the first time in weeks, Felix shakes his head.

“Not really, no,” he admits, his voice a little raspy. You can tell he’s fighting back tears, and you gently pat the spot next to you on the sofa. Felix momentarily searches your eyes before moving forward and dropping down on the sofa next to you. “I know it’s my own fault because I took off my wedding ring but I didn’t expect them to ask already,” he tells you quietly and nervously fidgets with his hands. “Chan told me to be honest before she comes up with something that’ll drag me down.”

“I think you’ve handled it quite well,” you tell him gently, and he groans in response.

“Already online, huh?” he sighs, and you hum softly. Felix throws his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling. You can’t help but take in his side profile and let your eyes wander down his neck. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you ask gently.

“I have to have an explanation for everything as if I’d know why she cheated. Maybe it’s because I’ve been gone often with all our schedules. Maybe she got bored. Maybe she just saw past that facade of fame and sunshine behavior and realized I’m not as lovable as everyone thinks I am,” he huffs, making you frown at him. “Maybe she never loved me in the first place, and I can’t even blame her for that.”

“Stop it now,” you scold him firmly and Felix turns his head, blinking at you. “Have you ever considered that maybe she’s just a massive bitch and there is absolutely nothing wrong with you?”

“Not really, no,” he shakes his head and sits up straight again. “That’s rather unlikely, isn’t it? There’s always a reason people cheat.”

“Sometimes it’s simply stupidity,” you insist. “Not everything is your fault, Felix.”

“Why does it feel like it then?” he asks quietly, and your heart breaks at the desperate glint in his eyes. “Why does it feel like I’m the one who fucked it all up? And why doesn’t she care one bit, and I’m here feeling like complete shit?”

“Because you loved her,” you say quietly and watch his face fall. “She didn’t try to make it right, did she? She didn’t protest when you suggested a divorce.” Felix shakes his head, eyes brimming with tears. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she never loved you for who you truly are. Maybe all she saw was the fame, the money, the places you went to…but how is that your fault?”

“I…I should’ve known,” he says quietly, his lower lip quivering a little.

“You can’t know that shit if they’re good at hiding and pretending. Who knows how long she could’ve kept up that show if you hadn’t come home early that day?” you ask, and Felix avoids your observant gaze, staring down at his hands. “The only thing you’re at fault for is beating yourself up for this and thinking you’re worthless.”

Felix remains quiet and presses his lips together tightly as hot tears run down his cheeks. His hair falls into his face as his head hangs low, and you can only tell as he sniffles softly. You hesitantly reach out for him and rub his back soothingly. Felix whispers an apology and buries his face in his hands, a quiet sob rippling through his body. You don’t know where you get the confidence from, but you move before you can reconsider what you’re about to do. Wrapping your arm around him, you pull him into a warm embrace and gently rub his shoulder. Felix tenses up briefly before he relaxes into your touch, allowing himself the comfort you spend.

It doesn’t last for all too long, and Felix pushes himself off the sofa, messily wiping his cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-,” he stammers and exhales shakily. “I shouldn’t dump this all on you.”

“I don’t-” you start and shut your mouth as he raises his hand to stop you.

“I know you don’t mind. I know,” he says and shakily wipes his cheek. “That doesn’t make it any better. I appreciate you trying to help, but I’ll go before I start unloading even more nonsense,” he sniffles and flashes you a sad smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome,” you nod gently and watch him leave. Only then do you notice your heart racing in your chest and the wet patch of his tears in your sweater. “So much to keeping boundaries, Y/n,” you scold yourself, rubbing your face tiredly.

Felix closes the door to his room and buries his face in his hands with a soft groan. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispers and stands still for a moment. What is he doing, sobbing in his daughter’s best friend’s arms? Is he going insane? Felix closes his eyes and tries to forget how comfortable your hug felt, how good you smelled, and how soothing your presence was to him. “Fuck,” he whispers into the emptiness of his room.

One week later

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you walk down the hallway, clutching your visitor pass. Your best friend asked you to pick up Felix from work tonight because she had to work late and would then stay at her boyfriend's again. Would he think weirdly of you for it? He's been avoiding you a little after that emotional breakdown a week ago, and you can't blame him.

You reach Chan's studio and knock gently, letting yourself in.

“Oh, Y/nnie,” Chan greets you cheerfully.

“Haven't seen you here in a while,” Minho adds curiously.

“Yeah, uh, I have to pick up Felix,” you say, and they frown.

“I thought-”

“No, she's working late and staying at her boyfriend's or something like that,” you shrug your shoulders.

“She asks you to move in so she isn't lonely and leaves all the time,” Minho shakes his head, amused. “Well, at least someone's keeping an eye on Lix, then.”

“Mhm, yeah,” you nod. “Where is he?”

“In the practice room down the hallway. Uh…he's in a shit mood today,” Minho tells you.

“Define shit mood,” you chuckle.

“Everything is shit, nothing works, he's useless,” Chan sighs softly and shakes his head. “We tried.”

You sigh heavily and roll your eyes. “Fine, I'll do my best.”

“Good luck,” Chan giggles.

Only a little later, you open the door to the practice room and slip inside. You frown as you spot Felix stretched out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “I swear, Channie, if you're here to tell me another bad joke that's supposed to make me laugh, I'll snap,” he announces.

You stop next to him and tilt your head at him. “Not Channie,” you say. “What's that supposed to be?” you ask, vaguely waving at his current position.

“It's my new favorite yoga position called utter depression,” he says dryly and throws you a peace sign. “That's I'm a failure, what's your name?”

“Chan wasn't lying,” you nod slowly.

“Did Chan call you? Seriously?” he asks, sitting up on his elbows.

“No. In fact, it was your lovely daughter asking me to come pick you up. She's working late, and then she'll stay over at her boyfriend's.”

“I still can't believe she asked you to move in so she wouldn't be lonely, and now she's barely home,” Felix snorts and groans softly.

“Mhm, you guys are repeating yourselves, Min said the same thing,” you tell him and gently poke his side with your shoe. “What's going on, Mr. utter depression?”

“Nothing, as you can see,” he sighs. “I fucked up during practice today. Minho only didn't call me out for all the mistakes because he felt sorry for me at the time,” he tells you.

“And that led you down the good old road to self-hatred?” you ask, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Maybe,” he answers vaguely.

“Surely,” you correct him. “Lix?” you ask gently, and he turns his head toward you. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” he shakes his head as his eyes trace your features.

“We could take a walk and grab some food on the way. We don't have to talk or anything. It's just for you to clear your head and empty all that garbage you keep up there,” you tell him, tugging a small smile at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods.

You exchange your goodbyes with Min and Chan, who secretly throw some hearts your way when Felix isn't looking. Idiots.

After that evening, it all got easier again. You didn't talk much that day, but the fresh air, bright lights, and warm food had lightened Felix's mood immensely. Over the following two weeks, you two grew closer, and Felix allowed himself to be more open. With your best friend gone quite frequently, it was often only you and him.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized how ridiculously perfect Felix was. His beautiful brown eyes, soft features adorned by all those sweet freckles, and blond hair falling around his face made your stomach flip. His sweet smile and even prettier laugh made you feel like winning a trophy every time you were the reason for it. He's so kind and polite that it makes your head spin.

Felix can't quite stop himself from looking at you whenever you don't notice. The more time you spend, the more he notices how beautiful you are. How caring and gentle. Your smile brightens his days and he can't fully shake the longing to be in your arms again off. He hasn't felt as comfortable around someone in a while, and there's a lingering worry in the back of his head telling him that he really shouldn't allow himself to fall for you. It only gets worse watching you doing the most mundane things and wishing that you wouldn't leave again.

Another two weeks later your best friend announces she'll be abroad for a holiday with her boyfriend for two weeks. Two weeks. It'll only be Felix and you for fourteen days. That thought wasn't helping your anxious heart, trying not to fall for him at all.

You decided to make the best out of it and forget about your worries. Seeing Felix smile again was all that counted.

The first morning, Felix tiredly strolls down the hallway from his room and stops in his tracks when he sees you at the stove. A sweet scent lingers in the kitchen, and he realizes you're making pancakes for breakfast. His heart picks up pace, and he takes a deep breath, reminding himself to act normal. “Morning,” he says, not knowing that his even deeper morning voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Good morning,” you smile at him, bright as ever. He has to look somewhere else to stop himself from blushing. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” you tell him, and he hums softly.

Felix sits down at the kitchen island and watches you thoughtfully. It's ridiculous how used to your presence he got over the past few weeks. Almost as if he couldn't imagine it any other way anymore. “Do you have any plans for today?” he asks and you shake your head as you put the pancakes on a big plate.

“Why?” you ask curiously and turn off the stove.

“Uh, I was thinking about painting her room since she wanted a new color so badly…I was wondering if you'd like to help?” he asks nervously.

You put down the plate and nod. “Sure, why not?”

Felix flashes you a sweet smile and thanks you as you hand him a plate with some pancakes. They're so fluffy they almost melt on his tongue, and he has trouble biting back a moan. “Oh, they're amazing,” he tells you and notices the subtle blush settling on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you smile almost shyly.

Seriously, can't you give him a break?

After breakfast, Felix takes a quick shower, and you put on some clothes that could be ruined by the paint. You meet again in your best friend's room, and you smile at how soft Felix looks in a pair of gray sweatpants and a wide sweater. You pull all the furniture away from the walls, covering everything up before Felix shows you how to apply the paint properly. In the beginning, you're both quietly working and it feels peaceful, just focusing on painting for now. Then Felix starts talking, trying to kill the silence. “I signed the divorce papers yesterday,” he says casually, and you need a moment to figure out how to answer.

“Congratulations?” you chuckle, and he laughs, realizing how out of pocket this has been.

“Sorry, that was pretty random,” he apologizes.

“No, it's fine. I'm glad you did,” you say, and he glances at you, making you ramble on quickly. “I mean, it's the right thing to do. Did you settle on anything? Does she demand stuff?”

“If she doesn't want my legal team to be less nice about the reason we're getting a divorce than I was, then she won't,” he tells you and sighs softly. “She has the old house, and I don't have to pay her anything. I'm glad when we're done with the whole process,” he admits tiredly.

“I bet you are,” you nod gently. “You deserve some peace after everything,” you say, and he hums softly, pressing his lips together briefly. “We can stop talking about it,” you assure him gently, and Felix nods thankfully.

“We need more paint,” he states.

“Well, we should let this dry anyway for today,” you nod and flash him a gentle smile. “We could go buy some more and then call it a day?”

“Sounds good,” he nods, rubbing his face tiredly, and turns toward you fully now.

“You've got some paint on your cheek,” you say, and he blindly reaches out to wipe it off. He doesn't quite get it and you step in front of him, reaching out for him. “Let me help,” you say and gently rub your thumb over his cheek, wiping the still fresh paint off.

Felix freezes in place, staring at you as you do so. He feels like the world stops for a moment but then your soft touch is already gone again. He exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding in and follows you outside. Fucks sake.

You wander through the store next to him and you end up buying some more stuff to decorate the house a little more. Felix's phone rings and you can tell it's Chan by the way his face lights up. He nudges your side after a moment. “You're hungry?”

“I could eat,” you nod.

“Min and Chan ask if we wanna stop by,” he tells you, and you shrug your shoulders.

“Sure, why not?”

Only shortly after, you reach their house, and your eyes widen, spotting the two small kittens on the carpet. “Oh, you have new ones?” you ask excitedly and Minho looks at you as if he's going to hit you.

“Or not?” you ask, chuckling.

Chan gently pokes his cheek and grins at you. “Yeah, we got them like a week ago,” he nods, and you crouch down as they make their way over.

“Can I hold them?” you ask, looking at Minho, and his face softens.

“If they let you,” he nods and tells you to sit down on the floor.

He picks up the first one and gently hands it over to you, making sure you hold it right. “He's usually very calm, so if you don't move too quickly, you should be fine,” he tells you and sits down, grabbing the second one. “She's a little rascal,” he smirks and gently scratches her head.

“They're so tiny,” you say, amazed.

“Here, he loves those,” Chan says, handing you a little treat.

You hold out your hand for the kitten, and he doesn't waste much time. You giggle at his tiny tongue licking over your palm and beam at Minho excitedly. Chan passes Minho and gently runs his hand through his hair mindlessly. Minho smiles softly and looks up at him so full of love you can't help but wish you'd find someone you shared the same type of deep love with. “Wanna help me set the table, Lix?” he asks, and Felix hums, following him, not after a quick glance in your direction to make sure you're alright.

Soon after, you're all gathered around the table, and you all thank Minho for cooking. Chan glances at Felix after a while and seems to debate whether he should ask what's going through his head. “Lix?” he asks, and his friend turns toward him. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm fine,” he smiles tiredly, and you know the question starts to bother him by now.

“You said that from day one,” Minho chuckles and tilts his head at him.

“No, I am. I signed the papers yesterday and then soon it'll all be over,” he explains.

“Have you met anyone new?” Minho asks curiously. “I mean, it's been almost two months.”

“Mhm, after ten years of a fake marriage. I still have time, don't you think?” he asks sourly.

Chan steps in, trying to ease the mood. “We're just worried about you getting lonely, Lix,” he tells him.

“I'd rather be lonely than that,” he says and rolls his eyes at them. “Not everyone finds the one and lives happily ever after from day one on,” he says, looking at the two of them.

“That's hardly realistic, nothing was perfect from day one,” Minho shakes his head.

“Not really, no,” Chan snorts and winks at him.

“Well, you're not me, so…,” Felix says quietly, and the mood changes.

“Meaning?” Minho asks patiently, even though you can tell he’d rather punch some sense into him.

Felix puts down his chopsticks and sighs heavily. “I'm way too emotional, I'm too shy to approach anyone or initiate anything further, I mess up stuff constantly and-.”

“Will you stop?” you cut him off, and everyone looks at you as if they're remembering you're still here. “You keep on talking shit about yourself, and you don't even realize you're letting her win.”

“I'm not letting her—” he frowns. Chan is about to speak up, but Minho stops him, resting his hand on his.

“Yes, you are. She used you for years, and you're still letting her by making it all your fault. As if she had no other choice but to go off and fuck around with whoever she found moderately fuckable,” you say, and he blinks at you, stunned as Chan chokes on his breath. “You're talented at what you do, you're hardworking, and you're one of the most caring people I know. You didn't have to, but you always made me feel at home when I visited your daughter. You haven't done any differently since I moved in, and as long as you aren't talking shit about yourself, you're pretty funny. And-.”

“Y/nnie,” he says softly, and it's the first time he's called you that. “Eat up; it's going to get cold.”

You quickly shut your mouth, ears burning up as you realize you've just been pretty open in front of Minho and Chan. “Yeah, okay, you better shut up then…respectfully.”

“Message received,” he smiles gently.

Minho raises his eyebrows and glances at Chan before moving his eyes between the two of you. Chan frowns before his eyes widen, and he squints at him. Minho widens his eyes and puts on a little passive aggressively encouraging smile, signaling him that, yes, he is VERY right about this.

“You can stop the eye fuckery over there, I'll get sick,” Felix calls them out, and you frown softly at Minho's mischievous grin.

“Y/n, what about you?” Minho asks curiously.

“You're playing cupid as a side business, or what is this?” you ask right back.

“Simply interested,” he gives back.

“I'm single if you must know so badly, and no, my self-esteem isn't drowning as much as Lix’s,” you say, and Felix pokes your side, protesting softly.

Chan watches you quietly before glancing at his husband and humming softly. Minho simply smirks.

Later, when it's time to leave, you hold your hand out for Felix, and he tilts his head at you questioningly. “Keys, please,” you smile.

“Huh?” he asks, amused.

“You had two drinks, I didn't have any, and I'm driving,” you tell him, stretching your hand out once more.

“Listen to her, Yongbokie,” Minho tells him, and Felix gives in and hands you the keys.

“That was really sweet,” Felix says, almost too quiet to hear.

“The kittens?” you giggle.

“Mhm, yeah, they too,” he nods and glances over at you. “I meant what you said…I uh... thanks.”

“Oh,” you nod and feel your heart warming at the softness in his eyes. “I meant it.”

“I know,” he whispers and can barely meet your eyes.

“You should give yourself more credit. Try seeing yourself through the eyes of the people you mean something to from time to time,” you say, parking the car in front of the house.

Felix looks at you, a little stunned. “I mean something to you?” he asks softly.

“Well, of course you do, Lixie,” you smile and lean over, brushing his hair back for him.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes traveling down to your lips before he can fight it.

“Mhm,” you hum softly and search his eyes. Suddenly, you move forward and your lips meet in a soft kiss that has him melting in his seat. He reaches up to bury his hand into your hair and-.

“Felix? Felix, wake up,” you say gently.

“Huh?” he asks confused.

“Wake up, Lix, come on,” you say softly, daring to brush a loose strand from his face. “Come on, let's get you upstairs.”

Felix blinks at you drowsily and needs a moment to realize he's been dreaming—dreaming of kissing you. His face burns up red with embarrassment as your gentle eyes meet his, and he shoots out of his seat. “Yeah, sorry,” he stammers, and you watch him a little confused.

“You're okay?” you ask, closing the door for him.

“Sure, why wouldn't I be?” he asks, laughing nervously. Don't look at the lips. Don't.

“Man, you're weird when you get woken up,” you shake your head and unlock the front door, letting him in. Felix stumbles taking off his shoes, making you laugh. “Is alcohol having such an effect on you?”

“Mhm, yeah,” he lies, spotting his lifeline.

“Well, let's get you to bed then,” you say and gently pat his back, shoving him inside.

“I'll make it on my own, thank you,” he quickly says and wishes you a good night. He throws himself face forward onto his bed and groans into his blanket. “Fuck, no, Lix, you can't.” He turns onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, brushing his fingers over his lips. Groaning softly, he fumbles for his phone; he needs some clarity now.

“It's late, what the fuck, mate?”

“Jisungie, I fucked up,” Felix whines softly.

“Oh, please don't tell me you're drunk,” Jisung sighs softly. “Do I have to pick you up somewhere?”

“No,” he quickly assures him. “I just…there's this certain someone I can't stop thinking about, and…Ji, it's wrong!”

“I don't like the sound of this,” he states calmly. “Go on.”

And Felix does, spilling all his hurt, feelings of emptiness, and worthlessness. Telling him how you mend his heart, fill his entire being with happiness, and make him feel loveable. He confesses how he can't stop thinking about you, worrying how messed up this could get.

Jisung lets him ramble on and nods gently once he's done. “That's fucked up, mate.”

“I know,” he whispers.

“No, I don't think you know how bad that bitch fucked you up,” Jisung says, and Felix is too stunned to speak for a second. “Fucks sake, Lix! Where's my pretty boy getting all the girls, huh? When did you get all shy and scared? Did she fuck up your self-esteem that badly?”

“Ji, you're missing the point here,” he insists. “Everyone would think I'm using her, she's eight years younger. They'll make her a victim and-.”

“Lix,” he cuts him off firmly. “I'm that victim you're describing here, you do know that, right? My hubby is ten years older, Hyune’s wife is six years younger, and no one gives a fuck,” he tells him. “The thing you really can't take is the fact that she's your daughter's best friend.”

“That surely doesn't help,” he groans.

“Well, technically-.”

“She's my daughter, you can try and twist this how you want,” he shakes his head. “And she'll hate me if I act upon my feelings for Y/n.”

“All she wanted was for you to be happy. Why not with Y/nnie?” he asks gently. “Listen, buddy, you gotta figure out what you really want and then act accordingly. Stop sending her signals if you don't want this to evolve into something more.”

“I know,” he sighs softly. Fuck.

“Can you get the eggs?” you ask him as you pour some sugar into a bowl, weighing its content as you do.

“Sure,” Felix nods and his hand rests on your lower back for a brief moment, notifying you of him standing behind you to stop you from bumping into him.

You swallow softly at the lingering touch, and it's already gone again before you can't think much of it. Felix got home from the studio about an hour ago, and you two decided to surprise your best friend with a cake for her birthday tomorrow. At least she had planned to come back again for it. After quickly buying the ingredients, you two got busy in the kitchen. He's unusually clumsy, your hands brushed against each other four times already since you've started and you already bumped heads, both wanting to grab something off the floor he dropped. The brief touches and his soft eyes combined with that shy smile are slowly driving you insane.

Once you're all done you put it in the oven and set a timer, cleaning up the kitchen for now. You'll still need a few things for the icing later but you get rid of most of the mess for now. After loading the dishwasher, the 25 minutes are over, and Felix carefully takes it out. You leave it there to cool and throw yourself on the sofa.

Felix joins you and turns on the TV, putting on the next episode of the series you've recently started watching together. After a while, your head slowly drops onto his shoulder and it takes him a moment to realize you fell asleep. He cautiously wraps his arm around you to make you more comfortable and lets you rest against his chest. He tries not to think too much of it and chews on his lower lip nervously as he tries to pay attention to the screen.

As much as he tries to fight it, he's exhausted from their intense practice today, and his eyes grow heavier with every minute. It doesn't take long and he falls asleep as well, getting more comfortable and dragging you down with him in his sleep.

You wake up in his arms, your head resting on his chest. Your eyes widen in shock, and you fight the urge to jump up and get as far away from him as possible. You barely dare to lift your head. Glancing down at him, your heart skips a beat at how soft and vulnerable he looks in his sleep. His chest is slowly rising and falling, his hair hangs into his face and he looks so soft it makes you want to squish his cheeks. You admire the beautiful freckles painting his face as the fading sun caresses his golden skin. Gosh, he's pretty.

He moves in his sleep, tightening his grip around you and rolling you both onto your sides. Burying his face in your neck, he lets out a content sigh and pulls you in close. You bite your lip and curse yourself for wanting this so badly. You should really wake him up…but you couldn't. Not when he had a long day and finally got some rest. Not when he looked this content and peaceful. You couldn't.

You timidly rest your chin on his fluffy hair and wait for a moment, but he doesn't seem to mind. Carefully, you fondle his back and rest your hand between his shoulder blades. He doesn't stir one bit, and you decide to try sleeping some more as well.

You wake up again when he stretches in your arms, pulling back with a soft groan. Felix squints at you drowsily before he slowly picks up on your current situation. A blush creeps up his neck and colors his cheeks and ears. He pulls away and rolls onto his back with a soft sound, rubbing his face tiredly. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“For what?” you ask gently.

“Uh…this,” he awkwardly gestures between the two of you. “I uh…I tend to get cuddly when I fall asleep. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or-.”

“You didn't,” you say firmly, and he slowly glances at you.

“No?” he asks quietly.

“Not at all,” you assure him, and he hums gently in response. “You seemed like you needed it, so I let you sleep a little longer.”

“Oh,” he nods dumbly and searches your eyes timidly. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” you nod and smile at him. “I think we can finish the cake by now.”

“Probably,” he laughs and sits up.

The pair of you soon gets busy in the kitchen again and Felix turns on the mixer to finish the icing for the cake. It's a little too fast, and some of it lands on his sweater. “Fucks sake,” he curses softly before slowing it down.

You laugh at him, and he turns to you, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, you got some on your face,” you giggle and step in front of him. You cup his face gently with one hand, rubbing your other thumb across the icing on his forehead. “Keep still, Lixie,” you say and don't quite notice his lips parting at the new nickname. You move further down, wiping the bits on his cheek off, and only then you meet his eyes. They're wide and filled with thousands of questions and insecurities. “You're okay?” you ask worriedly.

Felix blinks at you before very slowly shaking his head. “I'm not okay,” he says, and you turn off the mixer, bathing the room in silence.

“What's wrong?” you ask and want to pull your hand off his face, but his hand wraps around your wrist keeping you there.

“I…,” he trails off, sinking deeper into your eyes, and you can see the sudden longing in them. It's pure and innocent, making you all dizzy the longer you look at him. “You're driving me nuts,” he confesses.

“Breathe,” you tell him before experimentally brushing your thumb over his lips. He exhales shuddery, eyes fluttering close at your touch. “Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“What?” he squeaks, eyes snapping back open.

“You heard me,” you say and tilt your head at him. “Can I?” Felix gulps before nodding timidly. You close the distance between the two of you, and your lips brush against his. A soft, quiet sound escapes him and then you're cupping his face and kissing him. Felix melts into the kiss, body searching yours as he grips your waist and stumbles a little, shoving you against the kitchen counter. He pulls back only to catch his breath and presses his forehead against yours. “You're okay?” you ask again. This time, he nods.

“Yeah,” he whispers with a soft smile. “I'm okay...”

PART TWO

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clockwayswrites · 10 months

Text

Tim Jr., Coffee Machine Extraordinaire

WC: 2314

Dick worried his lip between his teeth as he looked Tim over. His little brother was standing, zombie-like, in front of the Cave’s coffee machine.

Not that it was unusual.

Just the thing was, Tim had been doing better. His dark circles had been fading, his snippy moments less often, his focus better, and he’d even been putting on some much needed weight. Dick had been so proud (as had Alfred and Bruce). But now the circles were darkening again and Tim was staring at the coffee machine like he used to— like it was his only salvation.

Jason stepped up to Dick’s side, joining him in the bird watching.

“Hey Timbit,” Jason said, breaking the silence of the moment. Trust Jason to get down to it.

“Hum?”

“What happened to your hand?”

Tim blinked down at his gauze wrapped hand as if he had forgotten about the injury. Not a good sign with Tim. Dick was betting on over 48 hours without proper sleep at this point.

“Oh.” Tim said, the exclamation was emotionless. “Tim Junior bit me.”

Dick and Jason exchanged looks. Who now?

“Um, did you get a pet, baby bird?” Dick gently asked.

“Hum?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Who’s Tim Junior, Timberino.”

“Oh.” Tim said. The brothers waited impatiently for Tim’s brain to roll over. “My coffee maker. Little brat refused to make me any…”

“Okay, yep, alright. No patrol for you tonight Timtam,” Jason said with a clap of his hands.

“Wait, what? No. Just let me get some coffee and I’ll be ready to go,” Tim whined.

“I think Jason’s right, Tim,” Dick said, stepping up to gently guide his brother away from the coffee machine.

Tim looked back over his shoulder at the machine as they walked away. Dick could practically see Jason building a plan as he lead them over to the vehicle area.

“We’ll go back to your Nest, Timbuktu. We can keep an eye on the ops from there while the rest of the idiots have to run around in this damn cold. Bet it’s going to sleet later,” Jason said gleefully.

“I see how it is, you just want to be warm. Sure you aren’t just faking those broken ribs to get some extra time off?” Dick asked, playing into the show of it. They just had to keep Tim distracted until Jason had him bundled back up in his apartment.

“Oh no. You’ve found me out,” Jason deadpanned as he tossed Tim his helmet. At least Bat reflexes were still in play and Tim caught the helmet without even looking at it.

“I knew it!” Dick cried, dodging Tim’s smacks as he doubled checked that the helmet was secure. “That’s it. I’m crashing your Nest Party after patrol so you better save me some food.”

“What makes you think there will be food?” Jason asked. His words were tough, but Dick watched him tug Tim’s arms until the other gripped him tightly. Baby bird was in good hands.

“Jaybird,” Dick said, “it’s you, of course there’s going to be food.”

Jason’s short was almost lost over the sound of the motorcycle starting. Dick waved enthusiastically as the bike sped out of the cave before he let his hand and smile both drop.

He really hoped that Tim just needed some sleep.

Dick landed silently onto the balcony. The lights were on low inside, changing subtly enough that Dick could tell the T.V. must be on. He found the hidden panel to flip up and enter his codes for the door’s locks to hiss open.

Jason was watching him from over the couch and even without seeing it, Dick could tell when Jason’s fingers relaxed around the gun he must had been holding. He raised a finger to his lips, and Dick gave a little nod back.

Dick slunk silently over to the couch, bracing his arms on the back right next to Jason’s head. He had to hold back a coo at the sight of Tim curled up under a fluffy green blanket with his head pillowed against Jason’s thigh. Jason must have known how close Dick was to making a noise because he smacked his hand into Dick’s face.

Hands raised, Dick backed away with a silent laugh. After rinsing off quickly in the shower he dug out some sweats from ‘his’ drawer in the guest bedroom. Tim might act like he never wanted them in his space, but he still kept a drawer for each of them stocked with civilian clothing and relaxing wear. And Dick knew his favorite cereal was stocked in the pantry too. Stomach rumbling, Dick padded back out to the open living space.

Jason must have pulled an Indiana Jones and slipped out from under Tim because he was in the kitchen making up a plate of left overs for Dick. Dick bounded over to peer into the boxes. “Ooh, Thai.”

He skipped back a step as Jason smacked at his hand with the serving spoon.

“How long has he been out?”

“Not long after eating. Food got here right after us, so most of the night,” Jason said, his words a low rumble in his efforts to stay quiet.

“Just tired then?” Dick asked, still hoping that was all it was.

Jason’s frown didn’t reassure him.

“What?”

“Sleep was restless for hours. He kept… dun know. Searching for something,” Jason said with a little shrug. “Not nightmares but not easy rest.”

Dick sighed and leaned back against the counter. He chewed idly on his thumb, wondering what was bothering their baby bird. “New cases?”

“Not from me. Wrapped the last one up last week and B’s out of town.”

“Damian wouldn’t ask. Steph is busy with the girls. And there’s nothing from me. Something made him take a turn.”

Jason just hummed and popped the plate into the microwave. Dick was never sure if Jason knew how much the noise sounded like one Batman would make. He never risked mentioning it. Dick glanced over at his brother and then past him as the shiny red caught his eye. “That it?”

“What?”

Dick jutted his chin at the coffee maker. “Tim Junior”

“…guess it is. Odd looking machine, aint it? Think he messed with it?”

“Someone had to,” Dick said, moving around Jason. The coffee machine did have a distinctly home brewed look to it. None of the knobs matched and the one panel was a slightly different shade of red like it had been spray painted to match.

“Freak’n mad scientist,” Jason groused as he stopped the microwave before it could beep.

“More engineering then he normally does,” Dick murmured. He reached out to flip the top of the machine open. It felt like solid work… the lid snapped back down with a clack.

“Shh.”

“…it wasn’t me. The machine moved.”

“Shut it, dickface.”

“I’m not kidding,” Dick hissed. “I just went to open it—”

The lid snapped open on its own.

Dick reached out to blindly smack at Jason’s arm.

“Stop it. I saw. Could just be a spring—” Jason reached out to touch it and the coffee machine lunged forward, narrowly missing Jason's fingers. "Holy fuck!"

“Did his coffee machine really bite him?!?” Dick screeched.

(Quietly.)

(He refused to wake Tim.)

“Maybe really, really strong springs?” Jason hissed back as he reached for the machine again.

Dick tackled the coffee machine as it sprang off the counter. The machine struggled, snapping its top open and closed as it strained for Jason. It was starting to heat up in his arms.

“Unplug it!”

“It’s not even plugged in!”

“What do you mean it’s not—”

The lock in the front door turned with a click and both brothers froze. The coffee machine snapped again in Dick’s arms and he shushed it without thinking.

The door creaked open.

“Tim? Starlight? You awake babe?” Whoever it was spoke quietly, like they knew how much of a light sleeper Tim was. There was a soft bang and a quiet curse as a slight figure slipped into the apartment hauling a carry-on suitcase and messenger bag that he dumped by the door. He turned away from locking the door and froze.

Three pairs of blue eyes blinked at each other.

“What are you doing to Tim Junior?” the stranger whisper screamed as he scrambled forward.

Dick let the guy snatch the coffee machine, backing up with his hands raised to show he was harmless. Not that he was, of course, he was running through all the places that he knew Tim had hidden weapons.

Not that the guy looked like much of a threat with the way he was petting the coffee machine and cooing at it. “It’s okay baby, the bad man doesn’t have you any more.”

Dick swore the coffee machine was purring back.

“Okay, who the fuck are you,” Jason growled.

Jason only got a single threatening step forward before he froze at a whine that came from a couch. Tim pulled himself up by the back of the couch, draping himself half over it.

“Danny?”

The guy— Danny— glanced at them before looking at Tim. “Hey starlight. So. Um, your brothers are here tonight?” The end of his sentence rose up in a little squeak.

Tim froze, going pale in a way that scared Dick a little as his eyes darted between all of them. “What day is it?”

“Sunday, babe.”

“Oh shit…”

“Want to introduce us, Timmallow?” Jason rumbled.

Dick was pretty sure that answer was ‘no the fuck I do not’.

Seems Danny thought the same as he jerked the hand not holding the coffee machine behind him. “I can just… leave and pretend I was never here?”

“No!” Tim said, scrambling over the back of the couch and sliding to stand next to Danny. “No, um. I should have—”

“It’s fine, babe.”

“No it’s not! I’ve been meaning to introduce you to them but— ugh.” Tim buried his face in his hands.

“Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” Dick suggested. He made sure to plaster on a cheerful smile. “Though, um, maybe without Tim Junior?”

Danny snorted and moved to set the coffee machine down on the kitchen island. Dick and Jason both gave it a wide berth as they headed over to the couch to sit. Dick steered them to stay on one side of the L-shaped couch while Tim and Danny sat on the other.

An awkward silence settled over the group.

Well they couldn’t have that. “So, Danny was it?”

“Yep, Danny Fenton. You’re… Dick? And Jason?”

“Yeah! Tim talks about us?”

“Of course, you’re his brothers,” Danny said. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess… you haven’t heard about me?”

“Um, no,” Dick admitted. He could feel his smile falter for a moment at the hurt in Danny’s eyes.

“Danny—” Tim started.

“It’s fine.”

It didn’t sound fine.

“No it’s not,” Tim said. “I kept meaning to tell them but they— do you know how over the top they are? They would have been over here in five minutes to meet you and then for the next, like, week as they all got back into town. They would be everywhere for weeks and…”

Tim picked at his sweat pants, looking small and nervous. “And you just really moved in a few weeks ago and I wanted you to myself for longer.”

“Hey, starlight,” Danny said and reached out to curl his hand over Tim’s. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not and I’m sorry. So, officially, Danny, these are my brothers, Dick and Jason. Dick, Jason, this is my boyfriend Danny Fenton. He’s an engineering student at Gotham U.”

Dick offered his best smile. “I guess that explains the coffee machine!”

“Like fuck it does, that thing is alive,” Jason snapped. “It bit me!”

“You were grabbing him!” Danny said.

“It bit Tim too!”

“Aw, Tim Junior, no,” Danny sighed, taking Tim’s other hand and looking at the bandages carefully. “I wasn’t even gone for a week and you two were fighting?”

Tim whined. “He wouldn’t let me have any coffee!”

“How many cups were you on?”

Tim ducked his head in a mumble.

“How many was that?”

“Seven.”

“Tim!”

“You were gone! I couldn’t sleep,” Tim sulked.

The fight seemed to just drain out of Danny at that and he kissed Tim’s knuckles gently. “Ask your family next time before it gets so bad, okay babe? They’re obviously willing to look after you. And then Tim Junior won’t bite you.”

“Yeah Timmander, we won’t let you suffer,” Jason said with a smirk that had Tim narrowing his eyes at him.

Dick elbowed Jason (which was as effective as going for a brick wall). “We won’t. We’re happy to be around if you’re feeling lonely. Especially if it keeps you safe from your coffee machine!”

“Seriously,” Jason said, “What is that thing, er, Tim Junior made of?”

“Oh! Ectoplasm,” Danny said with a smile.

Dick paused. “…um, what?”

“Ectoplasm. You know, ghost juice?” Danny held out his cupped hand and green liquid pooled in it as if seeping out of his skin.

Jason leapt up and behind the couch before Dick was even registering what he was seeing. “What the fuck!? Why the fuck can your boyfriend make pit juice Timmy?”

Tim buried his face in his hands. “Not pit juice.”

“Ghost juice. Adjacent but very different, from what Tim has explained to me,” Danny said, the liquid fading away.

“That sure looked like pit water!”

“It wasn’t, see, pit water is pulled from the living while—”

“So,” Dick said quietly, leaning over to Tim. “Maybe not just that you wanted to keep him to yourself, huh?”

Tim just groaned and tried to bury himself under the green blanket and into the couch. “I should have just let Tim Junior eat me.”

-----

AN: Thanks to spite, finally got back to this and finished it up! I know not the firmest ending, but it covered what I wanted to~

Make sure to be better than Tim and hydrate and rest! Also stay delightful, darlings!

#dp x dc #braindead #deadtired #tim drake/danny fenton #tim jr coffee machine

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freedomfireflies · 5 months

Text

Birthday Boy*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where Harry doesn't celebrate his birthday but he loves to celebrate you.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, anal play, brief Daddy kink, breeding kink

“What the fuck am I doing here?”

You grin as you widen the door and motion him inside. “Just shut up and come in.”

“…why?”

“Harry.”

He huffs but does oblige, slipping the hood from his head while glancing around. “I thought you didn’t want me coming over here anymore.”

“I don’t,” you agree. “But this is a special circumstance.”

“Yeah? And why's that?”

You merely smile. “You’ll see. Sit.”

He glances at your sofa before nodding his chin toward the bedroom. “Here or there?”

“Here. You don’t deserve to go in there.”

“Funny.” He slumps down onto the cushions and tosses arms over the back of the couch. “Now what?”

Your hand disappears into your pocket as you approach him from behind. “We’re gonna play a game.”

“A game?”

“A game. I…am gonna blindfold you,” you tell him as you slip his glasses off and hover dark fabric over his head. “And you…are going to guess what I put in your hand.”

You wait a beat before settling it over his eyes, just to make sure he’s all right with your proposition.

And of course, he smirks. “Okay,” he agrees and you fasten the knot. “And what do I get if I guess correctly?"

“A prize.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You walk back around the couch and stand in front of his knees. “And if you guess wrong, then I’ll be claiming the prize for myself. And you can just watch.”

His lips curl up into a wicked grin. “Deal.” He extends his hand. “Let’s go.”

This is where the game gets tricky. In order to give him the object, you have to retrieve it first. Which means stripping down completely.

So, you do. You peel off your shirt and your jeans and your scandalously tiny panties and toss them into a pile on the floor.

And then…you step closer.

You swing your leg over his hip, and then the other, and drop yourself onto his lap. He’s already grinning, likely having guessed that you removed your clothes, and he’s endlessly intrigued.

You take his hands and bring them to your chest. Allowing him to squeeze and grope the warm, sensitive flesh at his disposal as he bites back a larger grin and pretends to think.

“These…” he hums, “these are those beautiful fucking tits I love to suck on so much, aren’t they?”

“Mhm.” You move his hands down your stomach and place them on your waist.

“And these…” He kneads them gently. “These are those perfect hips I love to hold when I fuck into you.”

“Uh-huh.” You slide his large palms down to your thighs.

“Oh, these,” he nearly groans. “These are the fucking thighs I love to have squeezing my head when you sit on my face. When you cum all over my tongue and make a mess of me. A tasty fucking mess.”

You smirk and move him toward your ass now.

And he curses to himself before he’s taking hold of each cheek and tugging—hard. “And this…this is the ass that looks so pretty when it’s all red and tender from taking my punishment, yeah? The one that looks so fucking good in my hand? Bouncing on my cock?”

“Mhm…and one more guess,” you tell him before you take his hands and move them between the cheeks of your ass.

And that’s when he feels it.

You watch him swallow. Watch the way his jaw ticks and his lips part. The way he fights the urge to yank the covering from his eyes and see for himself.

“Tink…”

“Yes, Harry?”

“…is that a butt plug?”

You grin wildly as you move your lips to his ear. “Happy birthday.”

In seconds, he’s ripping off the blindfold and taking a proper look at you. He’s surprised and you feel proud. “How the fuck did you know?”

“What, you think you’re the only one who can hack into Prescott’s computer and read a file?”

He blinks before he’s leaning back and allowing his eyes to travel down the length of your naked body still settled on his lap. “Well…fuck.”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “And what better way to celebrate, right? Go ahead. Admit it. I’m an incredible gift giver.”

For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems…stunned. Eerily quiet and it’s almost unnerving. He holds your body but not in the greedy way he was before. Now he’s…almost reverent. Confused.

“I…I don’t really celebrate my birthday,” he finally admits. “Anymore, I mean. I…you didn’t have to do this.”

Your chest aches but you wave him off. “It’s just anal, calm down. I’m not throwing you a fucking party or anything.”

He exhales a gentle chuckle. “Still, you didn’t…I mean, I didn’t expect anything.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.” You both smile. “Because this doesn’t change anything. I still hate you. I just…thought it would be a fun thing to do. So you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

Now he understands and the room suddenly feels so small. You figured he wouldn’t be celebrating his birthday this year. And you’d realized you’d never seen him celebrate before. And then…you figured out why.

Her.

You didn’t want him to go back to his empty apartment and be alone. You didn’t want him to have to pretend like this was just another day or drown himself in the memory of her.

You wanted to distract him. Give him a reason to enjoy himself. Celebrate his birth. Even if it was with you.

He sighs now as he pulls you closer. Squeezing your ass again before kissing the space between your breasts. “Well…other than the fact that you disobeyed me, this is really thoughtful.”

“I’m sorry…what?”

He nods once and you recognize that sadistic gleam in his eye. “How did you get this pretty little plug in, hm?”

Oh. “I…I put it in.”

“Uh-huh. How?”

“How do you think?”

He spanks you. Firm. The sound is sharp and it echoes through your apartment as you jolt. “Don’t be fucking smart, Princess. When I ask you a question…you answer it. Is that understood?”

You bite your lip. “I touched myself and then I put it in.”

“Mm.” He kisses over your nipple and up to your shoulder. “And do you realize how that was disobeying me?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “In all fairness, it would have ruined the surprise if I fucking told you.”

He spanks you again. Harder this time. Painful. And your insides are on fire in the best possible way. “No. You won’t speak to me like that today. Will you?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Good girl. What are you gonna do instead?”

“…I’m gonna give you your prize.”

He grins. “That’s fucking right. Turn around.”

You do. You stand from his lap and allow him to pull you apart until he can get a glimpse of the pretty toy inside.

And you can’t help but feel pleased with the way he exhales a tortured groan at the sight. “Fucking shit, Tinkerbell. Look at you…s’all for me, huh?”

You nod, even if he can’t really see you. “Yes.”

“Just wanted to be good to me, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Wanted me to have a perfect present?”

You nod again and fight a shiver when you feel him run his finger over the tip. “Want you to have whatever you want.”

He makes another noise. “And you’re sure you could take it, baby? Sure you wouldn’t mind me playing with such a pretty little hole?”

“Please,” you breathe. “I can take it. I promise. Want to.”

He squeezes your hips. “And do you think you deserve it after disobeying me?”

“Yes…yes, please…please.”

“Hm. Maybe you do,” he admits. “Just this once. After being so sweet to me. Bet it’s killed you to have to be so nice, huh?”

You smile. “Kind of. You are the fucking worst.”

Another spank and you both make a desperate sound this time. He likes to watch the way your skin ripples beneath his hand. The way it reddens, the way it grows warm to the touch. And maybe you like it, too.

“We’ll start slow, yeah?” he says and gently begins to ease the toy out. “Just gonna give you my finger for now. Maybe next time we can do more—”

“Harry—”

His palm meets your ass again and you jump. “Tink, don’t argue with me. M’not gonna hurt you on my birthday. S’not fair very to me.”

Your eyes roll but you’re grinning. “Yeah, okay. But any other day you don’t mind?”

“Exactly.”

“Mm.” You sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Harry?”

“Yeah, Princess?”

“…are we okay?”

The sneaky touches stop as he turns you a bit so he can see you clearly. “What? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. I mean…this doesn’t cross a line or anything?”

Instantly, he removes his hands from your body. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable—”

“No, not that,” you correct quickly. “I mean…I mean me inviting you here and doing all this for your birthday. I just…I know we have a rule about not getting too personal and this kind of breaks it, but—”

“Tink.” He holds you again but only to capture your attention and bring you to a stop. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because when I call, you come running?”

He smirks and smacks your thigh. “No. I’m here because I want to be here. We make our own rules. We decide what we’re comfortable with. Yeah, it’s a little more personal than it was before but that’s okay. Because I couldn’t very well fuck your ass in the office, now, could I?”

You laugh.

“We’re okay,” he assures you. “More than okay. Nothing is gonna change how much I hate you. I promise.”

And it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard.

So, you turn back around and allow his large hands to run up and down your body in appreciation. He soaks in every inch of your skin. Every curve and mark and scar. He truly holds you like a prize and when he finally kicks your feet apart and slips his finger up your cunt and toward your ass…you’re gone.

“Breathe,” he instructs, and you do. “And tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I will.”

With this assurance, he eases the tip of his finger in your tighter hole and it’s oddly more satisfying than you expected. Sure, the plug had somewhat prepared you but this…

“Shit,” you whisper and he stills.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s…I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s really good.”

You can’t see him but you can picture his smile. “Good. Keep breathing, yeah? And try to relax for me, baby. S’gonna hurt if you don’t.”

You exhale slowly and allow your muscles to unwind. Giving him room to push in a bit further while his other hand strokes your hip.

“Doing so good, Tink,” he says. “God, you really would take my cock, wouldn’t you? Look so fucking pretty, all stretched out and needy.”

The image and lewd way he speaks nearly makes your knees give out, but he keeps you upright.

“Bet it’d look so sweet…dripping with my cum,” he murmurs as he pumps his finger a bit faster. “Bet you’d let me cum anywhere I wanted, wouldn’t you? Let me fill this cute little belly with all my kids—”

“Shit,” you say again and he hums.

“You think about it, don’t you? Think about the way it’d feel. The way your body would look…holding me inside—"

“God…fuck, Harry—”

“S’what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? Wanna see your pretty tits get fuller, see your tummy filled with my babies—”

Your chin drops to your chest and you’re moments from slipping away. “Ha…Harry—”

“I know.” He’s fucking into you faster now, and even though it’s only one finger, it feels like ecstasy. A fullness you never imagined. “I know, baby. Maybe for my next birthday, yeah? Get you pregnant then.”

The reemergence of the breeding kink isn’t one you anticipated and yet, it leaves you enthralled. Even if you know you’ll likely never act on it.

But just when you’re beginning to settle into it, he’s suddenly retracting his hand and spinning you back around. You’re tugged onto the sofa, back first, without a moment of reprieve before he’s slotting himself between your thighs. And this time when his fingers find you…there’s four.

Two in your pussy…and two in your ass.

You arch from the couch and he’s relentless. Swallowing your gasps with greedy kisses and letting the sounds of your arousal echo through the room like an orchestra.

It’s beautiful and he’s beautiful. Even without his glasses, he’s the aggravatingly attractive man you’ve come to tolerate. And he’s so incredibly good at fucking into you like this. Abusing you and treating you all with the same hand.

And when you cum, you cum twice as hard.

This is his real present. This look on your face. The feel of your body clenching around him and he enjoys every fucking second of it.

He lets you throw an arm around his shoulders and tug him into your embrace. He lets you hold him and indulge in him and keep him in you for as long as possible.

“Shit,” you say for a third time and he laughs into your neck.

“Anal’s fun, right?”

“Fuck. Yeah. Maybe you were right.”

“I’m always right.”

“…wrong.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t gonna argue with me on my birthday, are you? Cause me and my cock will go right home and leave you here, wet and desperate.”

Your nose scrunches but you laugh and lightly push him away. “God, you’re annoying. I forgot for a second with that post-orgasm bliss but thank god you’re consistent.”

He grins. Smug. “If you want me to fuck you, all you have to do is ask nicely.”

“Yeah…no.”

“Tink.”

“Daddy.”

The sadistic gleam returns. “Don’t test me, baby. I might have been nice, but I can think of plenty of other ways to have fun that won’t exactly be fun for you.”

And you want to test him, you do.

But today is his day. So you decide that you might as well let him win…just this once.

“Fine,” you concede before offering him your most innocent pout. “Please, Daddy…will you fuck my ass?”

And the look on his face…makes it absolutely worth it.

“Turn around.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!! Thanks for always being so kind and such a beacon of hope and light for so many!!! 💞💞💞💞

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