#i am tired and hungover as fuck

[astraphone]

need to get groceries need to do my taxes want to lie in bed and play viddy game

[youngmassidehoe]

Will never get over how dykebr**king is an actual tag and I have to stay blocking those blogs that try to interact with my nsfw blog like our lives are treated like a fetish that can be "fixed" and y'all don't understand how much this shit is dangerous

[yoshimickster]

Fun times at the Hazbin Hotel!

Lucifer: UGH... I'm so hungover...HOW am I hungover?

Husk: I can field that one boss, yesterday I bet you that you couldn't make the best liquor in all of creation with your powers and...weeeeell...

Angel: Heeerrrreeeeey HUSK....YOU are PRETTY! LET'S GET MARRIED!

Husk: Everybody but you is still drunk.

Charlie: *On phone* WELL FUCK YOU MOM, I DON'T...care...*SOBBING"...

Vaggie: I'ma... I'ma STAB your bitch mom Charlie, it's HAPPENING!

Alastor:*Outside* And THAT...is my en-TIRE backstory lamppost! *HIC* YOU'RE MY BEST FRIEND!

Nifty: I just CLEANED the en-TIRE neighborhood!

Husk: She's a drunk cleaner, it's a thing.

Lucifer: ... well how are YOU not drunk or hungover?

Husk: Honestly? I've had stronger.

Lucifer: Respect.

Angel: IT'LL BE A SPRING WEDDING!

Husk: Bitch we're all ready engaged , take a nap.

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 10

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, yelling, plot

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 1.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“So the witch appeared to you in the godswood and claimed that you are the replacement for our y/n, who apparently died?” Daemon muses. He’s seated across from you, arms folded as he lounges back in the chair. 

You grip the mug of warm tea tighter, nodding.

“Forgive us for being skeptical my love,” Rhaenyra sighs as her hand grips your shoulder. “But if the witch was still within kings landing, the guards would have found her by now.”

Your frown deepens and you feel a twinge of pain begin behind your eyes. A migraine is threatening to begin. It was one thing for you husband and wife to not believe you before today. You thought surely that a witch disappearing before their eyes would be enough to convince them that some things just cannot be explained.

Pulling Rhaenyra’s hand from your shoulder, you squeeze it before dropping the necklace that witch gave you into her palm. “I understand this is difficult, Nyra,” you begin, “but she knew things that I hadn’t even told you and Daemon. This is the necklace my grandmother gave me.”

“Your grandmother has given you many gifts, love.” Daemon argues.

You groan in frustration, pulling the necklace from Nyra’s grip and pointing out the small engraving on the back. To My Dear Y/N 

“Daemon, do you honestly know a single goldsmith that could create this?”

Daemon doesn’t respond, looking at Rhaenyra instead. “My love, can we just move past this? You did not die months ago. You are not from a different reality.”

You stand up, pocketing your necklace as you walk away. Pausing in the doorway, you glance over your shoulder. “I love you both so much, but right now I cannot be around you.” “Y/n-” Daemon stands up to stop you.

“No.” You say, brushing his hand off of your shoulder. “I’m tired of this. I was fine with you not believing me before. But we all saw what happened in the small council chambers. You both saw me disappear in the godswood. You both saw my fucking necklace!”

“Tread carefully,” Rhaenyra says. “Mind your tone, I am still your queen.”

“And I’m your fucking wife!” you hiss. “Or does that only matter when I’m warming your bed and raising our children?!”

“This conversation is over,” Daemon orders. “You are clearly not in the right headspace to have this discussion.”

Daemon’s dismissal is enough to change your mind. Any plans you had to storm out were instantly gone. You stalk up to stand chest to chest with your husband. “You know what? This conversation isn’t over.”

“Y/n, the witch is just messing with your head-”

“No. That witch offered to take me home, and I turned her down.” You say. “I turned her down because I made the mistake of falling in love.” You’re crying, tears streaming down your face. “I fell in love with both of you. I love you, and our kids, and our dragons, and fuck it I even love needlepoint.” 

Rhaenyra and Daemon’s gaze softens. Daemon moves to wrap you in a hug, but you step back.

“If you can’t accept me for who I really am, then maybe this isn’t where I belong.” 

You turn around, walking out of the room. Rhaenyra follows, “where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my world,” you say, navigating the maze of hallways to try and find the godswood. “The witch told me to return to the godswood if I wanted to leave.”

“You cannot, I forbid it,” Daemon says. He must have followed Rhaenyra. You couldn’t care less. They both could walk right up to the heart tree with you for all you care. 

“Oh you forbid it, do you?” you hiss. 

“Yes!” Daemon grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. 

You try to wrench your arm from his grip, but it’s useless. “So let me get this straight,” you say. “You refuse to believe that other realities are possible, but you forbid me from going to one?”

Daemon’s brows furrow, and his grip loosens for a second. Seeing your window of opportunity, you twist your arm from his grip and bolt out the last set of doors to the godswood. Daemon and Rhaenyra run after you. You’re sure the sight of the Queen and Prince Consort running through the keep is hilarious, but you don’t bother turning around to see.

You pick up your skirts as you run through the godswood, trying to avoid getting them caught on any brush or lower branches.

“Y/n, stop!” Daemon has caught up to you. He reaches over to stop you, but you manage to evade his hands. 

Lower hanging branches scratch at your arms as you duck and weave through the trees. The heart tree comes into sight, and you feel a twinge of sadness. Just hours ago you were planning to forsake your past life for the two people now chasing you through the woods. Your pace slows to a halt as you approach the heart tree. 

“Y/n, think about this,” Rhaenyra pleaded. “Just come back to our rooms and we can talk.”

“Talk?” you ask, bewildered. “Everytime I try to talk about this, you shut me down!” Fuck, where is that witch? She said to come back here if you wanted to go home, but how are you supposed to get home?  You hear a whisper on the wind. The heart tree, lay your hand upon the heart tree. Your hand raises, reaching out to the tree. 

“What are you doin-” Rhaenyra asks. 

The bark beneath your palm begins to glow and soften. Your hand sinks into the tree. This must be the way back. 

“Y/n, get back that is not safe!” 

You ignore Daemon’s plea, and instead reach further into the tree. You can’t feel the other side, but the entire trunk is glowing. Gritting your teeth in determination, you take a step forward into the trunk. Your eyes shut as you walk forward through the tree. 

“Y/n!” You hear Daemon yell and feel his hand at your back. “Do not be afraid, I have you!” He’s trying to pull you out the tree. You feel some force from the other side of the tree drag you. Once Daemon realizes he can’t pull you out, you feel his arms wrap around your waist. 

The force drags your both out the other side. You both stumble out of the tree, falling to the ground as you catch your bearings. 

“Where the hell are we?” Daemon asks, standing to take in his surroundings. He helps you up, dusting off your dress as you gaze around. 

The tree behind you is identical to the heart tree in the keep. But as you look out, you and Daemon are clearly standing in the middle of a city park. The street and cars are visible from your position. 

“We’re in my world now.”

NOTE: Sorry for the long wait! My summer job is over this coming Friday, so I will be able to update more frequently next week! Also very exacting, we managed to stumble from Westeros to Earth! Rhaenyra is probably panicking at home, but Daemon is (probably) gonna love the tourist life. Also, we are totally gonna get smut again (eventually - trust the process lol) ~ Lacie <3

Taglist:  @syraxnyra , @avalyaaa , @angeliccss , @clocksonthewall79 , @sia2raw , @forma-lina , @lorarri , @imoonkiss , @ba6ysworld , @abaker74 , @aniisbavk1, @different-tale-student , @cruelladevil4,  @ronswhoree, @Lbl252003, @18dmlk, @beca2468 , @hnm-mika , @brocomegetyobitch, @pendejalian , @xoxoluvs-world, @lexasaurs634 , @jaydemon99 , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lavender2ari, @katiemars, @waitaminuteashh , @Judgementdayfan1, @shadyloveobject, @winterrnight , @malfoycassimalfoy , @Gracielacie, @serenitytomothings, @xoxo-shiyah, @Aoi_targaryen, @ghostlyvoidydragon , @spacexdrago , @asgardian1023 , @madamevirgo , @ahyespubes , @cowboybaby2 , @sm3156 , @ashlatano7567 , @cheat2tea , @kmatrixx1130 , @babygallori-38, @nicksolemlyswears, @jubilee40 , @dimue , @coolmantha921, @ynbutbetter , @macaulaytwins , @idk-idk-idk-idk23 , @lavender2ari, @the-brainr0tt , @kamarimartell , @bluecloudsworld , @anonymous989, @uniquecutie-puffs , @mimitoupe01, @ace-spades-1 , @urmomsgirlfriend1 , @insufferablelust , @lilsyl , @spacexdrago , @ella-rose45 , @essiexxz , @apollonshootafar , @myheartfollower, @baybaybear1 , @povofjustme

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[vibrantlifeboringdeath]

Powerslave is fascinating me. It's like. an FPS rogue-like? In the sense of its 'come back when you have specific powerup' progression. But not as one interconnected world, it has a separate levels?

[themultifanshipper]

Hello.

I have a question to ask. Are you up for a honeymoon fic Landoscar? With a lot of spicy things, hehe.

<3

When Oscar and Lando had woken up severely hungover that first morning after getting married at the Vegas GP, they knew they had made the right choice.

The only problem was how the hell they were going to go on their honeymoon without arousing suspicion.

Gonna go waterboard myself in holy water now brb

Warnings: Lando makes Oscar cry, but in a sexy way, sunburns, handjob, that’s it that's the plot, under negotiated everything, edging, Oscar being in denial, cum, facial, they're both fucking freaks

They got married on 20/11/2023 at 4:12 AM in the little Vegas Chapel after the Grand Prix. It was perfect (they barely remembered it) and the only people there were Alex and Logan (the best men) and the priest (who they had to track down later and make him sign an NDA).

All in all a brilliant night.

And the proof of consummation was… well, all over them and the sheets when they woke up.

How fucking romantic.

It was now a year on from that and they still hadn't been on their honeymoon.

They were determined though. But being in the public eye made any vacationing together quite hard.

So they decided to wait. Wait long enough that if they were seen, it would be reasonable to assume it was just a mates trip to a private Island.

They were currently on said private Island one morning, limbs tangled on a sunbed, sipping some pretty strong cocktails.

“What do you want to do today?”

“I don't care as long as I'm with you”

They giggled and a slap resounded on the empty beach.

“I hate you”

“That's not what you were saying last night when I had you-”

“Okay okay! I get it!”

Disgusting.

After another hour of lounging around, Lando untangled his limbs from Oscar's and got up to get more drinks.

“You want anoth- holy shit Osc!”

His eyes widened as he turned and took in his husband’s (he'd never get tired of saying that) appearance.

“What?” Oscar sat up, confused.

Oscar’s front was a similar shade of red as a lobster, the contrast in skin between his front and back making him look like a vanilla strawberry ice cream.

“Oscar you-” Lando couldn't contain his laughter “you forgot to put cream on again!”

Lando put his hand on Oscar's thigh and Oscar gasped in pain.

“Shit baby we need to go put something on that, let's go”

Oscar ended up laying on his back while Lando straddled his midsection and rubbed Aloe over his face and chest.

“Ah!” he hissed as a hand went over a patch of particularly red skin “careful where you put your bear paws!”

Lando laughed and squirted some more cream on his hands.

“Sorry baby, but it needs to be done. Besides you love my bear paws, especially when I put them on your-”

“Jesus, do you ever shut up!” Oscar laughed and Lando gasped at his meanness.

“Don't be mean to me when I'm helping you out!”

Oscar’s hands came up to cup Lando's ass over his shorts and squeeze lightly.

“You love it when I'm mean though, don't lie.”

“Oh yeah?” Lando smiled playfully “I can be mean too you know”

Oscar couldn't help the snort that escaped him. “Yeah right, I'll believe that when I see it, you’re just too sweet”

“I am not!” he tried to defend but Oscar just laughed at him “You just haven't seen my bad side, yet”

Oscar cackled and shot a look of disbelief at Lando.

Lando raised his eyebrows in challenge and shuffled backwards onto Oscar's thighs, making sure to rub against his crotch on the way.

“Shut up and let me finish putting the cream on” he scowled as he squirted a load straight onto Oscar's hot skin moodily.

“Aw… are you getting stroppy now because I laughed at you, baby?” Oscar cooed, hands reaching for Lando but he slapped them away.

“Touche me, or say another word, and I stop completely, understand?”

Oscar nodded, eyebrows almost fused with his hairline at Lando's harsh tone.

“And we'll see just how fucking mean I can be” the older man growled.

Well shit.

Lando quickly rubbed cream over Oscar's burns, before sitting back and ordering him to take his shorts off.

“Pardon?” Oscar wasn't used to being ordered around.

“If I have to repeat myself then I'll take them off, and I’m not going to be gentle”

That's a point, Oscar thought. He didn't want to take any chances with the burns so he peeled them off himself, making sure to give his skin a wide birth.

Once settled back into the sheets, Lando grabbed more cream and started rubbing it around Oscar's crotch, which was unnecessary given that the skin there was free of burns thanks to his shorts. But Lando apparently decided to turn this into a massage, because he was digging his thumbs into Oscar’s flesh, hard enough to make him groan at the feeling.

Then he dug his thumbs into Oscar's adductor muscles and the younger man yelped and stared daggers at him.

“What's the matter, baby?” Lando asked mockingly, “Am I going too hard for you?”

His eyes were inviting him to a challenge, one he knew Oscar wouldn't back down from.

Oscar shook his head, remembering Lando's warning from before, and quickly settled back down.

This was a new side to Lando. And it was getting Oscar a bit hot and bothered as his husband just carried on massaging/torturing him. The idea of being at his husband's mercy was turning him on enormously.

His dick twitched against his stomach and Lando chuckled.

“Careful Osc, one could think being submissive is turning you on” his voice was full of mirth but Oscar refused to acknowledge him, and stared at the ceiling while shaking his head.

“No? Must be mistaken then”

He continued along Oscar's groin, massaging the cream in and rubbing him in all the right places.

When Lando cupped his balls and pressed on his perineum at the same time, Oscar let out a strangled gasp.

He was dripping, he could feel it. But he refused to give Lando the satisfaction of asking him to touch him.

“You want me to stop Osc?” Lando had a teasing lilt to his voice. Oscar shook his head.

“If you want me to touch you all you have to do is be a good boy and say ‘please”

But Oscar, by some twisted sense of ego, refused to give in so he didn't answer.

Lando laughed softly and ran a finger up Oscar's cock, making the younger man shudder and his hips buck up of their own volition.

“That looks painful, Osc”

“Then fucking touch it”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not until you say please”

“Please” Oscar huffed out.

Lando tutted. “That wasn't very convincing, Osc.” His fingers ran along the tip and back down over his balls, but Oscar just about managed to stay impassive. He looked right into Lando's eyes.

“If you want me to say please you're going to have to do better than that”

Lando grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh honey, I'm not going to stop until you're begging”

The look in his eyes was predatory and Oscar almost caved then and there.

But on principal, Oscar did not beg.

Cut to about 30 minutes later and Oscar was whimpering into his arm as Lando placed kitten licks on his dripping tip.

“Still not desperate enough to say please?”

Oscar just growled “nope” but it was so strained Lando barely heard it.

“Fine, maybe I need to try a different approach, then”

Oscar looked on as Lando grabbed the cream and squirted some straight onto Oscar’s cock.

Oscar hissed at the cold, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Lando's large hand engulfing his cock and immediately starting a fast, tight, pace.

Oscar was writhing at the sudden intense pleasure after so long being teased, and he was having trouble getting air in his lungs as he hurdled towards an orgasm in record time.

His toes curled and his back arched as he felt the orgasm creep up his spine.

But just like that the feeling was replaced by a very tight hold around the base of his cock, the release his body craved ripped away from him.

“No! Lan-”

“Shhh, baby” Lando cooed “It's okay, I’ve got you”

While Oscar slowly came down from his almost-release, Lando reapplied some cream to make the slide as wet as possible, then proceeded to start stroking Oscar at the same pace as before, this time adding extra pressure.

Oscar was openly whining now, hands gripping the sheets so hard it’s shocking they weren't tearing.

“Now, I'm going to do that over and over again until you’re a good boy for me, okay”

Oscar couldn't contain the whine that came out of his mouth. He was getting close again and his eyes were filling up with tears at the white hot pleasure.

“Please” he let out a broken sob as his thighs started clenching with his impending orgasm.

“Oh you can do better than that, Osc” Lando’s pace didn't falter.

“Fuck- please Lan, I'll do anything. I need to come so bad, please, please. Please don't stop…” he was openly sobbing now, tears running down his cheeks as he took shuddering breaths.

He was so beautiful and pliant like this, Lando was unbelievably hard. He took pity on him and allowed him to come, other hand going to massage his balls for good measure.

“Good boy, Oscar. You can come now, go on.”

Oscar screamed as he came, hot spurts of his come landing over his abs and all the way up to his chin.

The sight of him, covered in his own cum, flush deepening the red of his burns, gasping for air, almost made Lando come on the spot.

He shuffled over to Oscar's head and pushed his shorts down to jerk himself off furiously.

“Open your mouth, tongue out” he ordered, grabbing Oscar’s jaw and aiming for his tongue.

It took him no time at all to come, and most of it landed on Oscar's cheeks and chin. It was absolutely sinful, the way his face was streaked with come, tongue hanging out, eyes unfocused, he looked like a sick man's dream.

Fortunately, Lando was a sick man.

“Shit Osc, I can't believe it took me this long to find out you’re a good little slut when you want to be”

Oscar took a long time to reply, trying to regulate his breathing.

When he finally did, a low growl came from his side of the bed.

“As soon as I get the feeling back in my legs, I'm going to fuck you until the sun sets, and I'm not giving you any breaks, no matter how many times you come”

Lando glanced at the clock.

It was only 1 pm…

Shit.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 4

content warning: mentions of sexual coercion (may be triggering to some so I marked the area where I talk about this subject with 🎧, the story will still make sense if you have to skip it), the word assault is used once in regards to Miguel’s situation at the party, fluff to make up for the last part, Miguel’s biological father is Tyler Stone here but he IS NOT comic book Miguel physically by ANY MEANS 😭, the progression might be a little fast?? I hope not though I want them to kith 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏽, a little suggestive at one part but nothing serious

word count: 2.4k (at this point y'all...you must know that I like telling stories because wtf), kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who set his alarm for 8 am the next morning. It rings long enough for his roommate to get up and shove him in his side.

“Shit. Sorry,” Miguel groans. His head is splitting and he feels like he’s been run over.

“Coming in at ass o’clock in the morning and letting your alarm ring past 12 rings? What happened to my roomie?” Peter muses, scratching is stomach. His own eyes are tired as he blinks at Miguel’s body slumped against the bed.

“A party that I should’ve never gone to,” Miguel says, bringing the ends of his palms to his eyes and breathing deep. “Nothing went how I wanted it to.”

“It looks to me that you got everything you wanted,” Peter yawned, going to grab a water from the mini fridge. He handed it to Miguel who thanked him and emptied the whole thing in one go.

“I left a girl that I really liked alone there,” Miguel replies, voice broken. “Was stuck in a room with a bunch of girls I didn’t even know. I was gone way too long and she left.”

“Shit, O’Hara,” Peter said, eyebrows raised. “Did they do anything to you?”

“No. After they realized I wasn’t trying to do anything, they just tried to bring the party upstairs. I didn’t get back downstairs until two hours later.”

“Did you reach out to your girl, at least?”

Miguel reached for his phone, “She texted me when she left and I texted back later.”

He looked at his phone, going to your messages. “And still no reply.”

“Can you blame her?” Peter asked, getting back in his own bed. “If I left my girlfriend anywhere while we’re out, she would literally have my head on a wall.”

Miguel wanted to cry. How could he fuck up something so badly?

He sighed as he brought his knees up, resting his arms on his knees. He put his head on his arms, trying to think.

“What should I do? I really like her,” he asks, voice watery.

“Not to be that guy, but there’s no time like the present,” Peter says. “Tell her the truth. Explain things to her. If you’re feeling that awful, do something for her.”

Miguel sniffles and groans out, deciding to get up.

“You’re right,” he says. “No time like the present.”

GymRat!Miguel who grabs a light breakfast and gets straight to work. He thanks the universe that his mom packed a bunch of aimless art supplies in one of his bins. He gets to crafting, putting his heart into everything. He’s freshening up, spraying on cologne, bringing out the slacks that make his ass look great, tightening his belt, fixing his hair. He tightens up so well that even Peter whistles when he walks out of the bathroom. He grabs his craft and goes off campus to a store, buying a few snacks, a circus animal cookie plush, and a gatorade in case you happened to be a little hungover too. He even goes the extra mile and finds a cute apology card. If anything, he hope you could get a laugh out if it.

GymRat!Miguel who makes his way to your dorm building, some guy letting him in after he saw him lingering around the door like a kicked puppy. He thanks him profusely and runs up the stairs to your door. He stands outside in the hallway for a minute and catches his breath, trying to still his beating heart. He gives a light knock, hoping you were there.

The door opens, revealing another girl who looks Miguel up and down with a scowl. Her hand is on her hip and her bonnet moves with her head as she stares Miguel down.

Miguel stutters, asking if you were there.

“Maybe, depending on what you’re about to say next,” she says.

“Look, can you tell her that I’m deeply sorry. I should have never left her alone last night. She didn’t deserve that. I apologize for even accepting the invitation to go. I should have known better. Nothing was worth me staying upstairs that long. Can I just- please, let me just talk to her,” Miguel pleads, desperate.

Your roommate just goes “hmph” under her breath and closes the door in his face.

Miguel’s arms drop and he gapes at the door like a fish. He’s willing to stand here until you have to come out, but isn’t sure what to do.

Just when he considers knocking again, the door swings open again and you’re standing there in a giant t-shirt and pajama pants with pokeman balls printed on them. A giant blanket is wrapped around your body.

You look at him, eyes cautious, “Jess said you were groveling. I’ll give you 5 minutes of my precious time. Something you clearly know how to waste.”

You sounded hurt and Miguel felt like dying.

He takes a deep breath calls out your name.

“I am so sorry for leaving you the other night. It was extremely fucked up, especially when I made sure that you could come. Anything could have happened to you and it was careless of me to not see that. I promise you my mom raised me better,” he says, looking down at your face.

You just crossed your arms and scrunched your mouth up. Even now, Miguel was still infatuated with you.

“I’m glad that you understand how fucked up that was. I was worried about you. I waited. For hours. I didn’t know anyone there and it was nerve wracking,” you say, words coming out like ice.

“I know and I apologize. Truly. Please just,” Miguel hands you his gifts. A gift bag full of the goodies he bought and an origami flower bouquet with a few lilies of the valley sprinkled throughout. A flower for renewal. A flower that he hopes speaks to you. “Please accept this and my honest apology.”

You look down at the flowers, taken aback. “Did you make these?” you ask, a little awed.

Miguel rubs one of his wrists, completely nervous, “Yes, I did. The lilies are real, though.”

“Well, obviously, Miguel,” you laugh softly at him. You start to go through the bag, heart warming at his initial gift.

“If you’ll accept my apology, I really would like to try taking you out. Again,” he says, shifting his weight to another leg.

“Wasn’t aware that last night was a date but slow down, tiger. I didn’t say I would forgive you yet.”

“Right!”

You took out the cookie plushie, cursing in your head about how cute it was. He really did know you. You kept going, heart melting the further in the bag you got. You finally got to the card, taking it out of the envelope.

You laugh at the cute seal, “You were an ‘ice hole.’”

Miguel heart sings at your laugh, happy that you were finding joy in this somehow.

You start to read the card, eyes wandering the page. His heart is hammering. Not only did he write his heart out, he dropped his confession of love like for you at the end. Whether or not you accepted it would make or break the rest of Miguel’s week.

Your eyes slowly drifted and you started to blink faster.

“Our time together has been short, but I think of you day and night. I dream about you. Your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your touch. It sounds sudden and cheesy but none of these parts of you escape my mind. I’m not sure what it felt like for you, but as soon as I was lucky enough to be graced with you in my lab group, I was stuck. To me, you lit up the room. I want to continue to explore that light, if you are willing to have me. May you please forgive me and consider going out with me?”

“If this feels like too much, I completely understand and I’ll-”

“Shut up,” you say, eyes teary. “Do you really mean this, Miguel?”

He stares at you, itching to reach out and hug you, “Every word.”

You wipe at your cheeks, a little overwhelmed. “Come here, you big goof.”

Miguel practically teleports the short distance, wrapping his arms around you. You sniffle in his chest, warmed up in his arms.

“I forgive you,” you say, words muffled into his shirt. “Just don’t ever do that shit again.”

He brings his hand to his head in a salute, “I won’t. Scout’s honor.”

“Of course you were a Boy Scout,” you say, giggling as you look up at him. He smelled really good and looked delectable. If you were weaker, you would have answered the door instead of Jess and filled the hallway with obscenities.

🎧

“Tell me though,” you say, trying to ground yourself. “What does one do when he leaves me for two hours?”

Miguel felt a groan in his chest, “Those girls were trying to do some weird harem thing. I was stuck in a room telling them no, trying to drink my way out of there. They kept trying to add more people to the mix, thinking I would go along with it. I didn’t want a case on my hands so it took me a while to get out of there without force.”

You went rigid in his arms, “Oh my god, Miguel!That’s assault.”

“Nothing crazy happened. I made sure that none of them got handsy.”

You bring your hand to his face, “That’s great, but there was still alcohol involved, which makes that coercion. Did you tell anyone about this?”

“Just my roommate, Peter. He sounded a little worried, but we were more focused on getting me to this point with you.”

You remove yourself from his arms and step back into your dorm.

“Stay right here. The council needs to discuss and Jess is on the Student Association,” you say, leaving a crack in the door.

GymRat!Miguel who is sat on the floor of your dorm room and explained the implications of what he went through. Jess ensures him that she’ll get somebody on the case despite Miguel saying that he was ok. You both ensure him that nothing will happen on his end and that this should stop those girls from doing this to anyone else in the future. Miguel is on board with that and you give him one more tight hug.

“Although you didn’t have to, I wish you would have told me. I would have came barging through those doors,” you say, a frown on your face.

“Really, it’s fine. I feel a little silly going along with the whole ordeal anyway.”

“None of that is your fault though, Miguel. You didn’t know what they were going to do or what they were trying to do,” you say, voice firm.

Miguel was enamored by your passion, “Thank you for saying that. If it helps, my father is Tyler Stone.”

Jess turns her body completely to you both on the floor, mouth dropping in shock, “Oh yeah, that entire organization is getting shut down.”

🎧

GymRat!Miguel who walks you out of your dorm, hand in hand with you. You two agreed on a nice coffee date. Something light after so much turmoil. You looked adorable, running around the room frantic and getting all dolled up just for him. He’s happy that he was able to work things out.

GymRat!Miguel who sits across from you, rubbing your hand with his thumb as you both sip your drinks. He begs for bites of your chocolate cake and you roll your eyes and feed it to him, a little shy at the PDA.

GymRat!Miguel who explains his family tree to you. You're still shocked at the Tyler Stone name drop. You're empathetic to his situation, agreeing with how tough it was to find out someone you knew for so long wasn't your actual father. He assures you that he's settled with the feelings for now, just happy to still have a connection with both of his dads and his mom. Plus, the money Tyler sends him was not anything to be sad over.

GymRat!Miguel who learns of your dating history. You've had a boyfriend and few meaningless dates. As you describe how he treated you, it makes sense that you were ready to completely block Miguel out of your life. Who stands up their prom date that they did a promposal for?

GymRat!Miguel who takes you shopping at the bookstore. Letting you get just about anything. Some romance books? Grab it. A plushie? Of course. A Beyoncé vinyl? No need to even ask. He was happy following you around the store as you squealed over certain things. Your eyes twinkled as you explained a series about a deaf girl falling in love and her boyfriend learning sign language to communicate with her. Miguel responds accordingly, humming at whatever you say.

GymRat!Miguel who feels crazy watching you eat a strawberry ring pop that he got from candy machine. You placed it on your left ring finger and he watched as your lips kept puckering around the crown of the candy diamond, taking it to the hilt and pushing it back out. Your tongue would come out occasionally as you slid the candy down it.

"Is it good?" he asks, mind in the gutter.

"Mm hm," you say, a smile on your face, ring pop popping from your mouth.

Lord help Miguel.

GymRat!Miguel who opens his car door for you. He also reaches across and buckles your seatbelt for you, body close to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who walks you to your dorm room, hand still in yours. You both linger there for a moment, taking in each other's space. You peer up at Miguel with those Bambi eyes again.

"I had a really great time with you Miguel," you say, holding your new bag to your chest. "I'm glad you came here this morning."

"I'm glad too," Miguel says looking at you, hearts in his eyes.

You bite your lip, rocking on your feet before you decide to do something.

You reach up on your tip toes and kiss Miguel on his cheek.

He stares at you, shocked. He stares at you a little longer, then begins to lean down. You get excited, hoping that he'll do what you were scared to do.

Jess swings the door open, "Aht aht! Come on inside, girl."

Miguel stands straight, face in flames.

"Good night, Miguel," you say, cheeks feeling hot.

"Good night," Miguel watches as Jess smirks at him before she closes the door.

GymRat!Miguel who floats all the way back to his dorm. Peter grins and tussles with him in excitement after taking in Miguel's appearance. He texts Gabriel while he gets ready for bed:

"When have I ever lost?"

"I kicked your ass in Mario Party last week but go off Ig"

"🖕🏽"

"🫰🏽"

Miguel went to sleep once more, having thoughts of you.

dividers by: @yeribbon 🩵

a/n: I’m almost certain that this is the LAST time something this serious happens in this series. It will be pretty fluffy for a while...I think 🫣

As always, thank you for reading! Leave a like and a reblog. Please comment! I love to hear what you guys have to say 🥺 🩵

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx @lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @ce3stvu @ohara-whore

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Take Me Home

Summary: After a night out at the bar with your co-workers after a long week at school, Javi picks you up and takes you home

Word Count: 3.2K

Pairing: husband!Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking (girl, you're plastered), allusions to smut, being a drunk, horny mess, mentions of food/eating, being hungover, Javi taking care of you, the Backstreet Boys (?!), just sweet, sweet fluff 😩

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from a sweet anon!! This made me giggle the whole time I was writing it, drunk Osita is my favorite 🤪 You know Javi would absolutely get a kick out of your drunken antics and would take such good care of you and your terrible hangover. Also who doesn't love a drunk Pop-Tart?!

This can be read as a standalone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing you knew, it was that the first few weeks of school were never easy. You were tired, stressed, and feeling like you were running on empty. You were hesitant when some of your new coworkers had suggested all of you head to the bar for Happy Hour on Friday after work, knowing damn well you’d be absolutely exhausted. But after the week you’d had, getting drunk with your teacher friends and commiserating about the chaos that was each of your classrooms couldn’t have sounded like a better way to cap off the craziness that had been the past 5 days. 

You had offered to ask one of your friends for a ride to the bar so Javi could enjoy his Friday night without having to worry about you, but Javi being Javi, had more than happily dropped you off with your friends, and planned to pick you up around 11:30, giving you what you thought was more than enough time to enjoy a few drinks and de-stress with your co-workers. 

4 margaritas and 2 surprise shots of tequila later, it was safe to say the state you were in was a little more than just de-stressed. 

With how much you had to drink, you had found yourself paying absolutely zero attention to any clock, and had completely forgotten that you told Javi you would meet him by the front doors when he came to pick you up. Javi had a sneaking suspicion when he pulled up to the parking lot and you were nowhere to be found, that you were probably having a much better time at the bar, and were a few drinks deeper than you intended. Well, Javi wasn’t wrong to assume that you had downed more than just a couple drinks, but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be absolutely hammered. 

Walking through the door, Javi couldn’t help but smile as he saw your familiar frame leaned against the ledge of the edge of the bar, gently rocking your head and swaying your hips to the muffled music playing under the chatter of the bar patrons. You must have been very focused on ordering whatever it was you wanted from the bartender, because you had been seemingly oblivious to Javi’s presence behind you. He firmly placed his broad hand on the small of your back, pressing his fingertips into your hips, making you immediately whip your head around in concern. 

“Woah, woah, woah, don’t you dare fucking touch me, I am happily married and will glad beat the shit out of- AH! JAVI!” Your demeanor quickly shifted from a woman ready to throw down in a fist fight, to absolutely ecstatic, realizing the hand resting on your back belonged to your husband. Setting your drink down, you threw your arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his button down shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I thought you were some creep trying to grab my ass. But you’re not a creep, you’re my hot husband, and you can grab my ass all you want. What time is it? You smell really good.” From your giggles and rambling, Javi could tell you’d had more than your fair share to drink, trying to gently put down the glass you had picked up to take a sip from back down on the bar. 

“Hi, Hermosa. I’m coming to pick you up, remember? Maybe let’s get you a water instead of finishing the rest of this, okay?” Javi smiled, passing your cup off to the bartender, and exchanging it for a new glass filled with water. Handing it off to you, your face scrunched in confusion as you took a long swing. 

“This isn’t a margarita?” You questioned, handing it back to Javi, thinking that he had clearly made a mistake in ordering for you. Laughing, Javi nodded, trying to hand the water back to you. 

“I know, Osita. It’s water, baby. Have a few sips and then I’m gonna take you home, alright?” 

Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave him a little smirk before obliging, taking a few gulps of the water and setting it back down, crossing your arms against your chest. “Did you say you’re trying to take me home, Javier Peña?” 

“Yes, I’m taking you home, you dork.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he picked up your coat and your purse from the back of the chair you had been perched next to. “Why don’t you go say goodbye to everyone and make sure no one else needs a ride home, okay?” You nodded, speeding off into the dwindling late night crowd, quickly finding your friends, hugging them and then pointing over at Javi, biting down on your lip, as the rest of them giggled, waving at him as he politely waved back. A few moments later, you found Javi again, stumbling through the bar, grabbing a fist full of his button up shirt, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him a long, tender kiss. 

“Take me home, baby.” 

After your 3rd trip to the bar bathroom and your self pep-talk in the mirror earlier, you knew you were drunk, but you hadn’t realized just how drunk you were until you found yourself trying to crawl your way into Javi’s truck, the passenger’s seat seeming much higher up than usual as you took several missed steps trying to hoist yourself into the car. 

“You want help, hermosa?” Javi tried to keep his best from laughing as he watched you struggle. 

“....Maybe. Jav, I think I’m actually really drunk. Or the seat got higher. I think it would be less embarrassing if the truck grew. Or maybe I shrunk… Drunk and shrunk, those rhyme, Jav!” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking up at Javi’s car in frustration. 

“I think you and the truck are both the same size, baby. Here… 1, 2, 3.” He smiled, grabbing you around your hips, lifting you into your seat, reaching over to click your seatbelt in before making his way to the driver’s side, strapping himself in and starting up the car. As Javi pulled out of the parking lot, you reached down to turn up the volume on the radio, turning it up even louder when you heard it was “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” by the Backstreet Boys. Even in your plastered state, you knew how much Javi despised this song, claiming he’d heard it enough times to last him a thousand lifetimes. You, on the other hand, thought it was catchy as hell, even more so now that you were drunk. 

“I don’t understand how you don’t like this song! You yelled over the music, dancing in your seat, singing along to the lyrics. 

“Am I original?” 

You pointed at Javi, waiting for him to sing along to the “yeah’s”, frowning when all he did was laugh at you, 

“Am I the only one?” 

You pointed at him again, this time getting a half assed “yeah” out of him as you poked at his shoulder. 

“Am I sexual?” 

You outstretched your arm towards him, raising an eyebrow and biting down on your lip as you smirked, watching Javi reluctantly sing along to the last “yeah”, shaking his head, laughing at you. 

“Am I everything you need, you better rock your body now- EVERYBODYYYYYY!” You screamed, pumping your fist in the air, pretending to sing into your imaginary microphone, Javi trying to keep from bursting into hysterics from your over dramatic performance. You paused mid chorus, looking over to see him lovingly laughing at you, making you give him your most sarcastic stank face. “Are you laughing at me, Javier Jesús Peña? Are you not enjoying your concert?” 

“Osita,” He grinned, reaching down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, “there’s nothing I love more than watching you sing along to whatever song it is while we drive. It’s my favorite thing. Even if you’re fucking ridiculous sometimes.”

“Nuh uh, you’re the ridiculous one, Jav. Ridiculously fucking hot. Do you like, ever look in the mirror and just admire how attractive you are? All the girls at work think so, too. They told me when I was leaving tonight that I was a lucky lady and you know what I told them? Bitch, absolutely I am. My husband is so fucking hot and sweet and perfect and to top it all off, he’s got a huge dick. Wait, maybe I didn’t say that last part to them… If I did, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry, ‘cause it’s true.” Javi practically choked on his own spit, his quiet laughter to himself halted by your last comment. 

“Well, you’re very sweet, Osita. I hope for everyone’s sake you spared them the last part.” Javi laughed, giving your hand a little squeeze as you rested your head on his shoulder across the center console. 

“I’m being serious, Javi! It really isn’t fair to everyone else how fucking handsome you are. Or that like, you’re fucking sex god. Can we have sex when we get home? Please please please?” You begged, trying to give him your best drunken puppy dog eyes and pouty lip, Javi gently patting your leg knowing you were in absolutely no state to do anything besides get force fed some Gatorade and ibuprofen and go to sleep. 

“I think that we need to get you into bed, baby. Maybe tomorrow, okay?” 

“Into the bed where we have awesome sex all the time.” You retorted, shooting him a clumsy wink, pointing your finger at him. “Except this morning when we had sex in the bed and the shower. The shower is also a good place for sex. Do you remember when we had sex this morning?” You giggled, rubbing your hand over Javi’s thigh, working your way further up the denim before Javi reached down, placing your hand back in his, pulling it away. 

“Yes, Osita, of course I remember. Tonight we’re just gonna get into the bed and sleep.” Javi chuckled, smiling at you with your bright red cheeks, still dancing in your seat to whatever song was playing on the radio as he turned to pull into the driveway of your house. 

“Oh my gosh, we’re already home?! That was so fast. Let’s go to bed so we can sleep.” You gave Javi an overexaggerated wink as you parked in the garage, fumbling with the door handle to try and get out of the truck. Wanting to make sure you didn’t topple out of the passenger seat, Javi quickly unbuckled his seat belt, walking around to your side of the car, helping you down. You shot off to the door, fighting with the locked doorknob to try and get it open, instantly turning to panic when you realize it wouldn’t budge. “Jav! Jav! I forgot to bring my keys with me, I think we’re locked out of the house, I’m so- Oh. Nevermind.” Javi came up behind you, dangling his keys before reaching down to unlock the door. You stumbled through the mudroom and down the hallway, your eyes lighting up as you realized you were passing the kitchen. Trying to dart your way towards the pantry, you forgot that you had kicked off your shoes only a few moments earlier, making you slip and stumble on the hardwood floor, promptly landing you right on your ass. 

“Jesus Hermosa, are you okay?” Javi rushed over, eyes wide with concern as he watched you tumble, trying to pick you up from the hysterical heap you had fallen into. 

“I forgot I had socks on and I slipped. I’m such a fucking idiot, oh my god, that had to have looked so funny. My butt is gonna hurt tomorrow.” You cackled, hoisting your body up as Javi pulled you to stand, holding his hands firm on your hips, making sure you were stable. 

“Alright, c’mon Osita, we’re almost to bed.” 

“Wait, wait, I want Pop-Tart though! That’s why I was running to the kitchen!” You protested, Javi grabbing you to stop you before you tried to run full force down the hallway and slip again. 

“I will get you a Pop-Tart, you just get yourself into bed, okay? I’ll be there in a second.” Javi pleaded with you, trying to direct you back down the hallway towards the bedroom, hoping you would go and he wouldn’t have to wrangle you any further. 

“You promise?” You frowned, poking Javi’s chest, standing your ground until you were positive you were getting a Pop-Tart before you fell asleep. Javi leaned down, planting a soft kiss in your hair, brushing a stray piece  away from your face, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Yes, I promise.” 

That was all it took to have you dancing down the hallway towards the bedroom, back to singing to yourself with each step. 

“Everyboddyyyyy, rock your booooddyyy. Rock your body right. Back Street’s back, alright!”  

Finally seeing you had made your way into your room, Javi made his way to the kitchen, shuffling through the pantry to grab a shiny silver Pop-Tart wrapper, a red Gatorade and a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet before quickly heading back down the hall, your singing now muffled as Javi found you laying face down in the bed, still fully clothed. Javi wasn’t going to let you fall asleep in jeans and a sweater, so he carefully flipped you over, making you giggle as he began to unbutton your pants, shuffling them down your legs. 

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex tonight, so why are you undressing me, hmmm?” You sassed, wiggling your bottom half to help Javi get your jeans off before he grabbed your arms, pulling you up to sit and prompting you to lift up your arms, stripping you of your top. “Are you trying to look at my boobs? I want a piece of Pop-Tart before you get a free show.” 

“I’m just trying to get you in pajamas, baby. I’m not gonna let you fall asleep in what you wore to the bar. How about this, if you can get yourself in some pajamas, I’ll give you your Pop-Tart.” Javi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous compromise he was finding himself making with his drunken wife. 

“You strike a hard bargain, Mr. Peña. Fine, I will put on pajamas. Only because I love you very, very, very, very, very much. And I really want that Pop-Tart.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as Javi threw you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, haphazardly trying to wrestle them onto your body before flopping back down on the bed. “Okay, they’re on! Pop-Tart me, bitch.” 

“Did you just say Pop-Tart me, bitch?” Javi snorted, looking at you, sprawled out like a starfish, his shirt draped over your body backwards.

“Pop-Tart me, bitch. Please.” You replied, smugly nodding your head, pointing finger guns at him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute. I’m gonna go close up the house and then I’ll be back in bed. I love you, Osita.” Javi grinned, planting a kiss on your forehead, gently brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I love you too, Javi. My Pop-Tart and my pussy are both ready for you when you get back.” You giggled, reaching over to grab the shiny, silver snack package Javi had left for you on your nightstand, now grabbing it like a microphone as you sang into it. “Back Street’s back, alrightttttt!” 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi laughed, shaking his head as he gave you one last kiss before making his way back out of the bedroom, leaving you happily humming as you nibbled on the corner of your Pop-Tart, propped up on your stack of pillows. It didn’t take long for Javi to close up around the house, making sure to grab an extra package of Pop-Tarts and a big glass of water from the kitchen on his way back. “How’s the Pop-Tart, Osita?” Javi asked, gently closing the door behind him. 

Silence. 

“Osita?” He asked again, this time turning around to see that your singing and giggles had come to an end as you were passed out cold, sprawled out on top of the covers, Pop-Tart resting on your chest, rising and falling slowly with your soft snores. Javi laughed to himself, carefully taking the Pop-Tart off your chest and lifting you up to tuck you in under the covers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Ducles sueños, Osita. Te amo mucho, loca (Sweet dreams, little bear. I love you so much, crazy.)

The next morning, you could hear yourself audibly groan as you turned over in the bed, shielding yourself from the sunlight peeking through the cracks in your curtain, head pounding from the brightness. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as you looked over at your nightstand to see the red letters of your alarm clock reading “10:37 A.M.” and the shiny glare of an opened Pop-Tart package, covered by a blue sticky note. You twisted over, realizing that Javi’s side of the bed was empty, before turning back with a grunt, reaching over to grab the sticky note. 

Morning Osita. There’s Advil and Gatorade for you when you wake up. I think you may need it. I’ll have breakfast for you whenever you get up, unless you just want the Pop-Tart. 

Love you 

-J 

Slowly, you hoisted yourself up, grabbing the Gatorade and pills Javi and left for you, popping them in your mouth, followed by a big swig of your drink, running both your hands over your face before letting out a deep sigh and sliding out of bed. You trudged down the hallway, rubbing your hand on your hip to ease the bruising pain you had felt since getting out of bed, greeted by the smell of breakfast in the kitchen, and Javi sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, sipping on a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Javi chuckled, peeking over the top of his newspaper as he watched you as you stumbled your way into one of the empty kitchen chairs next to him at the table. 

 “I feel like shit.” You groaned, propping your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. Javi set down his paper, draping his arm over your back, tracing small circles with his thumb along your still backwards shirt as he planted a soft kiss in your messy, sleepy hair. 

“You were pretty drunk last night, Osita. Did you see the note I left for you?” Javi laughed quietly, shaking his head as he continued to rub your back. You turned your head over, looking up at Javi’s sympathetic gaze, scrunching your face as you let out a deep sigh. 

“Yes thank you, oh my god, that Gatorade and Advil is gonna save my life. Why the hell was there a Pop-Tart on my nightstand?” You mumbled, reaching over to steal a sip of Javi’s coffee, accidentally letting a little dribble fall down onto your shirt, you were just now realizing it wasn't on right. “Wait, is my shirt backwards? My ass hurts like hell too, what the hell happened last night?” 

“Why don’t I get you some breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns@blackfemalenerd @deppydelta

[tightjeansjavi]

Sunday Scaries

(Pre!outbreak Joel Miller x female reader)

A/N: this is for my darling, @loquaciousferret as she deals with her ‘Sunday Scaries’ after a fun weekend out (;

Summary: after a long night out with your girlfriends, you’re suffering through the worst hangover of your life. Your boyfriend Joel is there by your side taking care of you all day long.

~word count: 2.7k~

Warnings: mentions of drinking, established relationship, soft! Joel, he’s so sweet your teeth are going to rot out! Joel, comforting themes, caring for you while you’re hungover, light teasing, praise kink, nicknames, very very light smut, whole lot of fluff! It’s so stinkin cute. (+18) minors dni !

You weren’t sure what time it was exactly when you sent your boyfriend Joel a text message with zero context. You knew by now that he wasn’t the best at reading between the lines. Your text to him was one word: dying. You must have not even realized you had hit send before your head flopped back down on the pillow. You were out late last night with your girlfriends out drinking. You had a few too many vodka-crans, and by the time you had gotten home, you were too drunk, and too tired to even bother taking your little skimpy dress off.

You were rudely awoken by someone banging heavily on your apartment door the following morning. Unbeknownst to you, behind the door was your incredibly concerned boyfriend. When Joel woke up to your text, he didn’t waste any time with quickly getting dressed and snatching his keys to his truck and driving to your apartment. He was definitely driving way over the speed limit but did he care? Not one fucking bit.

You let out a groan as you pulled your pillow over your head to block out the incessant banging. When it didn’t cease, you wrapped yourself up in your thick quilt and forced yourself out from under the covers. You nearly tripped over your discarded strappy heels from the night before as you trudged out of your room. You looked, and felt like the living dead.

After reaching your apartment door, you unlocked it with a grumble and you stepped back slightly as it swung open, revealing your worried out of his fucking mind boyfriend.

“Jesus fuck, Joel. What are you doing here?” Your voice was raw from all the singing you had done with your friends as you rubbed your temples with the pads of your fingers. Your brain was pounding painfully in your skull.

Joel had let out a visible sigh of relief when he saw that you were very much alive in front of him. “What am I doin’ here? Baby, you texted me at like the crack ass of fuckin’ dawn, sayin’ you were dyin’! I raced over here as fast as I fuckin’ could. Thought somethin’ terrible had happened..”

“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry baby I don’t even remember sending you that message honestly. I’m sorry. I was super fucking drunk when I got home last night and I must have sent it around that time. I’m okay, Joel. Just suffering through the worst hangover of my life is all.”

Joel took in your full appearance then. He saw the makeup streaks under your eyes and the smeared left over lipstick. Your hair looked like an absolute rat's nest. Despite looking like hell, you were still the most beautiful girl in his eyes.

“Oh, honey..it’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize, okay? I just wanted to make sure that you were alright..did the vodka crans get to ya again?” he teasingly asked as he leaned against the doorjamb of your apartment door.

“Shuddup Joel. My head is pounding and I really wanna just curl up and fucking die in a hole somewhere..” you grumbled as you turned on your heel and started to head over to the couch. You wasted no time to plop down, face first, with your head buried in one of the pillows.

Joel let out a soft sigh as he watched you plop down onto the couch. He stepped inside your cozy little apartment, closing the door behind him softly as he hung his coat up alongside yours. “I’m sorry you’re havin’ a rough time right now baby. Hangovers can be real fuckin’ nasty.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. I’m regretting all of my decisions right now.” You grumbled into the pillow

You could hear his footsteps approaching where you laid on the couch as he slowly sank down along the corner of the cushion. He gently placed his hand along the small of your back, through the thick quilt that was wrapped around you. “I’m gonna take care of ya, okay? Will you let me do that my sweet girl?” He spoke softly.

“That sounds wonderful. I’d love it if you did.” You turned your cheek to the side so you could see his face before you slowly sat up and brought your arms around him, hugging him tightly with your cheek pressed against his warm chest.

“Let’s get your makeup off first, yeah? You don’t wanna go walkin’ around with raccoon eyes baby.” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you as he held you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Don’t make me punch you in the fucking balls right now cowboy.” You warned him.

“Shhh. Don’t go sayin’ stuff like that okay honey? Where are your makeup wipes, my love? Bathroom..under the sink yeah?”

“Mhmm..”

“Alright, sugar. You sit tight, okay? Gonna go grab them. You still in your clothes from last night?”

“I was too drunk to take them off. I don’t even know how I got my heels off either. They were an absolute bitch to take off.”

He chuckled softly as he gently rubbed soothing circles against your lower back before he reluctantly released you from his grasp. “M’proud that you made it home in one piece and took them off by yourself. Good job baby.”

You let out a huff when he was no longer holding you and you kinda just flopped back down against the side of the couch like a dead fish.

“Gonna take your makeup off, and run you a nice hot bath. Kay? Then we’re gonna get you out of those clothes and into something much more comfortable.” He gently patted your exposed knee from under the blanket before he walked over to your bathroom.

He easily found your makeup wipes from the cabinet under the sink. He returned to you minutes later, setting the bag of makeup wipes on the coffee table before he was gently grasping your thighs in his warm hands and coaxing you to sit up. “You gotta work with me a ‘lil here. Okay honey? Would it be more comfortable if you sat in my lap?”

“How the fuck did I get so lucky?” You mumbled as you sat up, scooting over so you were close enough to wrap your legs around his waist. Your arms draped around his back, interlocking your hands together as you held yourself against him.

“Mmm. Shouldn’t that be the other way around sugar? I’m the lucky one here. Wouldn't want to spend my Sunday any other way than here, takin’ care of ya.” He said with a small grin creeping onto his lips as he looked at you lovingly, with those big brown puppy dog eyes that you loved so tenderly.

You watched as he pulled out a couple makeup wipes, and he grasped your face in one hand, gently holding you still as he began to wipe away at leftover residue of your makeup along your skin. “You’re such a fucking sap, Miller. I love you.”

“Ditto, honey. Now close those pretty eyes for me, okay sugar? I don’t wanna get this stuff in ‘em. That would really fuckin’ hurt.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his request because he was just too damn adorable right now. Your lashes fluttered shut as he gently wiped away what was left of your eyeshadow. His tongue was poking out between his lips slightly as he was extremely focused on the task at hand.

Once he finished getting most of your makeup off, he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. Nibbling on it lightly as he elicited a sweet giggle to slip past your lips. “Does that feel a little better baby? Man, that stuff is a pain to get off huh? Let’s go run that bath for you now sweet girl.”

He was gently scooping you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom while you clung to his strong, broad frame like a koala.

He set you down on the edge of the toilet seat and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before he started the water for your bath. He checked the temperature periodically to make sure that it wasn’t too hot for you.

You watched him with complete adoration in your eyes. Joel Miller was what any girl would want in a boyfriend. God, you were so lucky that he was yours.

“Can feel ya starin’ at me.” He looked over his shoulder at you and shot you a playful wink. “Enjoyin’ the view darlin’?”

“Absolutely. I love seeing my man bent over my tub like that.” You giggled.

“You’re adorable.” He mused as he straightened his back and walked back over to where you were sitting. He gently unwrapped your thick quilt from around your body. “Gonna get you out of the dress okay? It’s so pretty..but I can imagine it was uncomfortable to sleep in all night.”

“I couldn’t get the damn zipper down, Joel. I tried multiple times and it wouldn’t fucking budge.”

“I know honey. It’s okay, I’m here now, pretty girl.” He spoke as he gently coaxed you to your feet. He reached around you, grasping the zipper between his fingers before he slowly dragged the metal down, as the material pooled at your ankles, along with your panties. He had you step out from it before he bent down and picked it up, hanging the dress along the hook on the back of the bathroom door.

“Will you hold me in the tub please?” You asked him softly.

“Of course honey..I was gonna be a gentleman and ask. I didn’t wanna go and assume y’know?”

“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you more than I already have? Cause if that’s the case..it’s totally working.” You watched as he effortlessly pulled his shirt over his head.

“Gasp. You really think I’d do such a thing like that?” He chuckled.

“Don’t lie Miller. You absolutely would do something like that baby.”

“Yeahh, alright. You got me there darlin’”

He scooped you up once more as he carried you to the tub and gently set you down into the soothing water. He discarded the rest of his clothing in a pile before he climbed in behind you. He gently wrapped his arms around you as he brought your back against his chest so you were comfortably laying between his strong thighs. “This alright for you baby?”

“This is perfect.” You let out a content sigh as you rested your head against his chest and placed your hands over his under the water, where they rested comfortably along your stomach.

“M’happy to hear that my sweet girl.” He spoke softly as he rested his chin along your shoulder. “You want me to wash your hair for you as well or just hold you?”

“Oh, please. That would be wonderful, thank you.”

He hummed in response as he reached around you and grabbed your favorite bottle of shampoo. Shortly after, you could feel his fingers working the suds into your hair. He was giving you a full on scalp massage as your eyes fluttered shut.

He had continued to softly hum as he gently scraped his nails against your scalp. He loved these little moments of intimacy that he got to share with you.

Once your hair was washed, he gently tipped your head back into the water before he washed the shampoo suds out of your hair.

You were in a state of complete bliss with your boyfriend taking care of you like this. It was wonderful to have him here with you. Your head still pounded painfully but it was nothing a little aspirin couldn’t fix. “Hey, Joel?”

“Yeah baby? What’s up?”

“Never let me go out drinking like that again.”

“Baby..you said the same thing last weekend..” he chuckled.

You muttered something incoherent under your breath as you turned around between his legs to look up at him. “Shhh. I know what I said last weekend but I’m serious. Don’t let me do that again because I feel like dog shit.”

He was gently grasping your chin between his fingers, brushing the pad of his thumb across your plush lower lip. “M’sorry you’re still feelin’ like shit baby. You and I both know your girlfriends are gonna be textin’ you next weekend and askin’ you to go out. Maybe just don’t drink as many vodka crans next time?”

“Hmm..next time I’ll bring you out with me. You can be my moral support..” you said with a grin, leaning in for a kiss.

“Ohh I’d love that. I’ll make sure you’re being good. Still want you to have fun though..Kay sugar?” He removed the pad of his thumb from your lips and replaced it with a kiss.

His kiss was sweet, warm, and comforting.

“If your head is still hurtin’ real bad..I think I might have a solution for you baby. Only if you’re interested..”

“What did you have in mind, baby?” You mumbled against his lips, kissing him languidly.

“Considerin’ I’m a real gentleman and don’t wanna see my girl in any pain at all, I can ease your mind off of it..”

You breathed a soft sigh against his lips as you relaxed against his warm chest. “You wanna get my head spinning in a different way?..”

“Yeah. I’d love to if you’d let me.” He breathed out as he gently cupped your cheek in his warm palm, stroking his thumb against your cheekbone comfortingly.

“Yes please.” You whispered

“Sit back between my thighs, baby. Get nice and comfortable, okay? Gonna take care of you..” he whispered as he broke away from the kiss.

You slowly turned back around so you were resting against his chest once more. You could feel his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he pressed a soft kiss to your pulse point.

Your eyes slowly fluttered shut as you felt the pad of his fingertips dip down between the valley of your breasts and over your navel. Your thighs instinctively fell open as his fingers brushed over your clit, eliciting a soft sigh to slip past your lips.

His fingers began to move in gentle circles against your clit as he continued to press soft kisses along your neck.

He didn’t apply nearly as much pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves as he usually would. His movements were gentle, tender as he coaxed you into a soothing orgasm with just his fingers alone. “Shh..that’s it. That’s my good girl. I’ve got you baby, it's okay. You’re such a good girl for me.” He whispered against your skin as your hips bucked up against his hand as you chased your impending orgasm.

“Joellll.” You let out a sweet, soft moan as your eyes rolled back into your skull.

“I know baby..I know. Feels good doesn’t it? I love playing with your pretty little pussy like this..always know how to get her purring for me..”

“You’re the devil..” you breathed out as he continued to gently ruin you with his fingers. Once the sensation became too much and your thighs were trembling, you grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers together as you came down from your high. Your mind was all fuzzy and didn’t hurt nearly as much now.

“Too much?” He let out a soft chuckle seeing that you were spent in his arms.

“Just a little..but I loved it. Thank you baby.”

“Anything for my girl.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Once the water was no longer comfortable, and yours and Joel’s skin was pruning up, he gently helped you out of the tub and wrapped a nice fluffy towel around your body.

He had some comfy sweats and a hoodie waiting for you as he helped you get dressed and carried you back to the couch. He let you sit between his thighs once more while you used him as your own personal pillow. You napped together for the rest of the afternoon. He made sure you drank water every now and then and when you were feeling a little better, he even made you some soup.

Joel Miller made your hangover, and the Sunday Scaries, not so scary anymore. Despite this, you still called off work the next morning, and your boyfriend happily spent the night at your place with you between his arms.

[stop-talking]

I am soooo excited for the rest of your Derek fic your Mike fic was so good!!! It was everything I want from enemies to lovers so I can't wait for more 💕

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 2)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, enemies, enemies to lovers, fluff, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, misogynistic & violent undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, overall mature content.

Part 1 Part 3

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Derek is pulled from his deep, trance-like sleep by the sound of someone calling his name.

He sits up in bed, blinking and swaying slightly as he adjusts to the light pouring in through his windows.

"Derek? C'mon, wake up."

Who the hell is knocking on his door? Everyone knows not to wake him unless it's urgent.

He stumbles to the door, nearly tripping over his own feet. Why is his head pounding? Is he hungover?

"Fuck d'ya want?"

Derek opens the door, ready to chew out whoever is on the other side. He stops when he sees you, and suddenly remembers everything that happened last night.

Beach house. Three weeks. With you. Sober.

"I was thinking we could have breakfast?"

Derek blinks at you, unsure what to even say. He wasn't used to being woken up like this, and his head was still pounding. God, he wanted his vape already.

"Umm... sure. Let me..." He looks down at his clothing, a simple t-shirt and some sweats. He feels... naked.

"I'm gonna change." He mumbles, closing the door before you can fully take in his disheveled appearance. He doesn't like letting people see him without his usual clothing. Which, honestly, was anything but usual.

Today, Derek decides on a floral print button-up, and a nice pair of green slacks. He doesn't bother with a jacket or blazer, it's too hot for that. He finishes the look by adding a belt with a chunky gold buckle, and his staple, snakeskin boots.

After getting dressed, he moves on to his hair, putting a small handful of product into his curls. The frosted tips are relatively new, and Derek smiles at his reflection. He looks pretty damn good, all things considered.

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"Morning." You nod to Derek as he makes his way into the kitchen.

"Morning..." He mumbles back, taking a seat on a stool next to the island.

"How're you feeling?" You turn away from the breakfast you were beginning to prepare, just a gathering of ingredients really, and look him over.

He looks... tired. He's dressed in his regular clothes now... well, regular for Derek. You can't help but notice the way his leg bounces nervously, how he repeatedly reaches into his pocket, only to take his hand back out immediately.

"Fine." He answers flatly, turning and scratching at the back of his neck.

Hm. He sure didn't look fine.

"You know I'm here to help you, right?" You decide to take a risk and verbally prod him a little, just to see if he opens up.

He doesn't.

"Shouldn't you be cooking me breakfast?" He sneers, narrowing his eyes at you as you lean on the counter across from him.

Okay, that's enough sass.

"If you want to eat breakfast, you can help make it."

Derek scoffs at that.

"I don't cook."

"So you've said."

The two of you silently stare at each other for a few moments, Derek's eyes narrow while you remain calm and serious. Finally, he relents.

"Fuck are you even making?" He grumbles, shifting in his seat to peek over your shoulder at the ingredients you've gathered on the counter behind you.

"Pancakes." You step aside so he can see the box of pancake mix, and do your best to muster up a smile. He's grumpy, yeah, but not truly angry yet. Better not push him if an argument can be avoided.

"So... do you want to help me cook breakfast, or do last night's dishes?"

Derek looks back and fourth between you and the sinkful of dishes, frowning.

"...You said pancakes?"

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Derek grimaces as a bit of pancake batter splashes on his silk shirt from his sloppy whisking. How did he get roped into this? Cooking? Seriously?

"Is it supposed to look so... lumpy?" He asks, frowning as he lifts the whisk and watches the weird goop plop down into the bowl.

"Yeah, that's normal. Keep mixing, and scrape the bottom. You're doing great."

He sighs, but continues to whisk, more carefully this time. It's... not that hard, actually. Even if it looks lumpy and weird.

After a minute or so, you apparently decide he's done enough, and take the bowl from him.

"So... am I done?"

"...do you want to eat raw batter?"

"No."

"Then no."

Derek scowls, watching as you spray something on the pan.

"Then what am I-"

"Just wait. I'll explain."

He lets out a rather dramatic sigh, then leans against the counter and eyes you. As annoying as you are... he can't help but admit you're attractive. Just a little.

Soon, you're pouring batter into the pan and walking him through cooking a pancake. He's only half-listening. It should be easy. Let it cook on one side, flip it, let the other side cook. Right? Even he couldn't fuck that up.

"You ready to try?" You ask, giving him an eager smile. Damn. Okay, maybe you're more than just a little attractive.

Derek just nods and takes the bowl from you, pouring some batter into the pan, trying to mimic what you did. Unfortunately, he overshot his pour, and it spread out to fill almost the entire pan.

"It's okay." You assure him. "It'll just be a big one."

He resists the urge to make a stupid joke about his "big one", instead deciding to just shrug it off and move on.

"So.. how do I tell when it's ready to flip again?" He asks, shifting awkwardly as you both silently wait for the pancake to cook.

"When it starts bubbling at the edges. Look, there's already a few."

You point, and he leans down to watch it more carefully.

"...can I flip it now?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Just like I showed you."

Derek accepts the spatula you hand him, gently sliding it under the pancake. Okay... just flip it. No big deal.

He completely fucks it up. The oversized pancake folds in half over the side of the pan, batter splattering all over the stove. He jumps back in shock, then straightens himself and scowls when he hears you laughing.

"It's not funny." He glares at you, then turns his attention back to the sorry excuse for a pancake. It's half-cooked, dripping down the side of the pan and onto the stovetop.

"No, no... It's not. I'm sorry..." You choke out between wheezes.

"Make breakfast yourself." Derek huffs, throwing the spatula onto the counter and storming off.

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After taking a minute to calm yourself down from the laughing fit, and several minutes to clean up Derek's failed attempt at a pancake, you finally convince him to come try again.

"Here, I'll guide you through it this time." You place a hand over his as he holds the spatula, standing directly behind him and speaking in a soothing manner.

He glances back at you and shifts slightly, looking... nervous? No, no way. He's probably just still grumpy from earlier.

"C'mon, you only messed up last time because there was too much batter. You'll do fine." You assure him, giving his hand a light squeeze.

"Yeah... alright." He seems to stiffen from your touch instead of relax. Odd.

When it's finally time to flip it, you count down from three, then help guide him through the motion. This time, there's no mess. A perfect flip.

"See? You did great." You nudge him playfully with your elbow, giving him a grin.

"Yeah... I did." He mumbles and turns away, suddenly extremely interested in the bowl of batter.

Is he... blushing? You can't tell for sure, with his head turned, but the tips of his ears look a little... pink.

"Wanna make a few more, master chef Derek?" You tease him, leaning over to try and get a glimpse of his face.

"Calling me master already, sweetheart?" He quips back, turning to face you with a smirk of his own. Whatever blush you thought you saw is gone now, replaced by his usual cocky demeaner.

Of course he'd respond like that. Asshole.

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Derek remains relatively quiet throughout breakfast, focusing mainly on stuffing his face.

He chews slowly, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. So many emotions are running through his head right now that he hardly feels his throbbing headache.

The way you smiled at him. How you didn't give up on him when he messed up. Fuck, you even held his hand. Well, you put your hand on top of his while he held a spatula. But still, that counted, right?

"So... what's the plan for today?" He finally asks, looking up at you from across the dining table."

"What do you mean?"

"Like... what are we gonna do? Sit on our asses all day?" He scowls, and stuffs another bite of pancake into his mouth.

"If that's what you want."

"Itths noht." Derek shakes his head, mumbling through a mouthful of food.

"Gross. Chew your fucking food." You give him a pointed look, then take a bite of your own breakfast.

"Whatever. Seriously. If I have to stay cooped up in this house for THREE WEEKS, I'm going to go insane."

"You're already pretty insane."

"I'll get worse."

You laugh at that, and Derek frowns. It's not funny. He's completely serious.

"Well... if you're that eager to get out, how about we walk down to the beach for the afternoon? Spend the day in the sand?"

"Yeah... that sounds nice."

He quickly finishes up the rest of his food, eager to get out. And maybe also excited at the prospect of seeing you in a bikini. Just a bit.

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Around half an hour later, you walk downstairs, sporting a new bathing suit.

You study Derek, who's changed into swimming trunks. Cheetah print, obviously. Pfft. With the mullet and the animal print, he reminds you a lot of that one guy. What does he call himself? The... tiger king?

The thought makes you laugh, and Derek frowns.

"What's so funny?" He asks, eying you from the couch as he lounges with his feet up and his hands behind his head.

"Nothing. You look... nice." You nod to him, and give his body a quick once-over with your eyes. Definitely not checking him out. Not staring. At all.

Derek does the same to you, studying your choice of swimwear. You chose a one-piece swim dress, pink with a little pair of shorts built in under the skirt. It would be considered modest, if it weren't for the plunging neckline and the panel cut out of the back. Speaking of which...

"Hey, can you get my back for me?" You ask, holding up a bottle of sunscreen. That seems to break Derek out of his trance, and he sits up and pats the spot next to him on the couch.

"Sure, If you'll do mine."

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Derek is a little disappointed about your swimsuit choice at first, but then he takes in the low neckline. And the skirt... damn. He knew there was probably something under it, but he couldn't help but imagine there wasn't, just for a moment.

And now you're asking him to rub sunscreen on your back? Holy shit.

"Like this?" He asks, applying a generous amount of the cream to your back.

"Mhm."

He takes a little bit of liberty and gets your shoulders as well, gently rubbing your skin and tucking his hands under the straps of your swimsuit to make sure every inch is covered. He has to restrain himself from letting his hands roam further.

"Here, do mine for me." He drops the sunscreen bottle into your lap and turns, his back facing you.

Christ. Your hands on his back feel... heavenly. He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from letting out a groan.

"There. You're all covered." You finish by giving him a quick pat on the shoulder, then standing up and stretching. Derek can't help but stare as you do, and suddenly, he wishes his shorts weren't so... thin.

He shakes himself and stands as well, heading for the door. As long as he has his back to you, you won't notice just how much he likes that swimsuit of yours.

Unfortunately... you don't fucking leave him alone. Of course.

"Wait, did you get the rest of your body?" You ask, grabbing the little beach bag you packed and scurrying to catch up with him.

"I'll be fine." He answers, shrugging it off and walking a little faster to stay ahead of you.

"That's stupid. You want to burn everywhere but your back?"

"I'm not going to burn, sweetheart. I just tan."

"Derek. At least get the rest of your torso. And face. Please?"

He winces as you finally catch up to him and grab his arm, but he's mostly calmed down now, so he just sighs and nods.

"Fine. But I'll do it myself."

You two walk down a wooden path that eventually gets buried in white sand as you approach the beach. It's beautiful, open and empty, untouched by anyone other than the Danforth family.

Derek sloppily applies sunscreen as he walks, slathering it on his torso, neck, and face. When he's done with his half-ass job, he turns to you and scowls.

"There. Happy now?"

"Hold on, you didn't rub it in all the way..." You gently swipe at his cheek with your hand, smiling.

"Stop that." He mumbles, pressing his hand to his cheek in the spot you just touched.

"Stop what?"

"Treating me like a child."

You seem taken aback by that answer, because you don't respond for a minute, trudging through the sand in silence.

"I'm not trying to treat you like a child. But your mom did task me with taking care of you, so..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm a grown man and I have a goddamn babysitter." He growls, though he can't really find it in himself to feel angry. Being taken care of... doesn't sound too bad right now.

"Oh, boohoo. Come on. Lets go swim."

"Uhh... I think I'll stay here." He mutters, sitting down in the sand and watching you make your way over to the ocean. When you had suggested spending the day in the sand, he'd assumed you meant... well, literally staying in the sand.

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You turn and frown as Derek plops down on the ground, refusing to budge.

"What? You scared to get a little wet?" You tease him, shouting to be heard over the waves. The cold water crashing over your ankles makes you shiver.

"No." He pouts, settling back against the beach bag you packed.

"Just... don't wanna."

That makes you even more confused. What's his deal? First he complains about being cooped up, then he refuses to go for a dip?

You trot back over to him, kicking up sand.

"Derek. Come on. I didn't do all this just to get blown off. Come swim with me." You tug on his arm, and he reluctantly gets up.

"I guess I could get my feet wet..." He scowls, looking at the ocean with disdain.

"You'll do more than that." You scold him, linking your arm in his and practically dragging him over to the water.

He makes a scrunched up face when the first wave hits him, washing over his feet and sinking his ankles into the sand.

When you try to tug him along further, he doesn't budge.

"I'm not getting in the water."

"Why not?" You finally ask, exasperated.

"I... I can't swim." He mumbles something, but the wind carries it away.

"What?"

"I can't swim." He groans, pulling away from you and burying his face in his hands.

This makes you pause, but only for a moment.

"Okay, then don't swim. Just come sit in the water." You make another grab for him, and he doesn't resist this time, letting you take him a few steps further. Once the water is about halfway to your knees, you lower yourself, and Derek sits beside you.

"This okay?" You ask, turning to look at him.

"It's cold. And wet."

"Yeah, that's... kinda how the ocean is."

You sit in silence for a few moments, until you finally clear your throat and speak up again.

"How have you gone this long without learning to swim? Don't you, like, host pool parties?"

"I mostly stick to the shallow end." He grumbles, shrugging the question off.

"Why not do the same here? Wade into waist-level with me?" You prod him with a finger, poking his side in a playful manner.

That just earns you a scowl.

"Because. There isn't a fucking shallow end in the ocean. It's... weird." He visibly shudders as he stares out into the endless waves, and shies back a bit.

You can tell this is a touchy subject for him, so you just sigh and let it go. Whatever. You can swim alone, right?

"Well, I'm going to go a little further in, you're welcome to join me."

With that, you stand and wade into the water, your walk turning to a paddle as the ground drops away beneath you. The ocean feels freeing, the gentle rocking of the waves lulling you into a trance-like state.

When you finally glance back at Derek, you see he's already sitting in the sand again, positioned so the waves can just barely reach his feet. Hm. He must really have a thing about the water.

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That night, Derek lies in bed, tossing and turning as he tries to fight away his many thoughts on the day's activities.

He thinks about cooking breakfast with you, how you held his hand and praised him for his efforts.

And oh god, your touch. He can practically feel your hands on his back still.

Then at the beach... you hardly reacted to his lack of swimming prowess. Though, he was still a little bitter you fucked off without him and left him to sit in the sand.

You made up for it tenfold at dinner, letting him help you in the kitchen. He didn't want to admit it, but he genuinely enjoyed learning to cook. Even if it did feel so... domestic.

He can still hear the words you spoke to him ringing in his ears as he shuts his eyes tight and tries to sleep.

"See? You've got it. Just like that."

"You're a natural."

"Keep going. Almost there."

Fuck. He couldn't squander his thoughts of you, no matter how hard he tried.

And that wasn't even his worst problem. You'd managed to distract him pretty damn well throughout the day, always keeping him busy with something.

But now, alone in his room, his head was pounding again, and all he wanted was a hit of his vape. Or maybe a shot. Or some blow. Just anything to get rid of the goddamn headache.

He groans and sits up in bed, and moves to do the only thing he can think to do. Go see you.

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Author's note: Oh man. I dunno if I'm gonna be able to keep doing this whole "posting one chapter a day" thing for much longer. I originally intended this chapter to be 2k words, maybe 2.5k at most, but sheesh. It grew into this... and I wanted to write more, but stopped myself. It's currently 3am and I've worked on this for around 6 hours today.

Also... why did I make Derek unable to swim? Idk. Tertiary plot? The man doesn't have many personality traits in the cannon other than "douchebag rich brat with mommy issues". I'm trying to keep him in character, but it's hard when the character isn't all that fleshed out to begin with, so bear with me here.

ANYWAYS, hope y'all enjoy! Now is your time to send in Derek Danforth requests... cuz I'm writing this as I go along. Who knows? Maybe your suggestion will make it into the next chapter. & thank you to the anon who sent the kind words <3

Part 3

[daniyummy]

I'm sorry for this being late! I was sick all week and just had zero motivation, but here's the fanfic from my voting, and they have spoken, they want a Colby fanfic! Genuinely excited for this!

I want an angsty story, so, here I am!

Part 1 | Part 2

Use of Y/N and cussing

Happy reading!

—————

Sure, Colby had hooked up with plenty of girls, but never a long term relationship. And, yeah, he's had a few girls that stayed for maybe two months but he got bored of just sex and them begging to go public after barely two months. How was he supposed to react when he got a woman?

"Girls and women are the same thing, brother. Just another girl after your fame." His friends would tell him, and as much as he knew that his precious woman would never treat him like the girls in the past did, he was still scared. How could he not be? He's never had a real woman. He didn't know how to act. It was just different. Naturally, he started acting like a douche. staying out late with no clear answer on when he'll be back, and most nights be won't even come back until the next morning.

You, obviously, were getting tired of this behaviour.

"Colby, what the fuck? Where were you all last night?" You look at him in frustration, so close to screaming at him. "Calm the fuck down, jesus christ. I was with Sam and a few friends." He replied, not sounding the least bit interested in having this talk again. "Do not tell me to calm down. You could've at least texted! I was worried!" You're voice on the brink of raising. You were fucking pissed. Nearly five months of this shit.

"Does it really matter that much? I'm safe." Colby replys, he groans, his head pounding from the hangover. "That doesn't mean I don't deserve a fucking text. You're treating me like I'm just an annoyance to you at this point." You huff and cross your arms. He snorts. "Not wrong there." He mumbles and your eyes widen, you laugh. "You know what? Fuck you, Colby Brock. I'm done with this shit. We've been dating for nearly five months, and you still treat me like a hookup! We're done. Get out of fucking house, now." You demand. Colby sits up and looks at you. "Over a text, Y/N? Grow up." He chuckles, yet in a condescending manner. What a prick. Did he think he was too good to be broken up with?

"No, Colby, not over a text. Over your lack of commitment. I get it, you've haven't had healthy relationships in the past but you can't just assume the worst." You look at him in anger. "Don't raise your voice at me, Y/N." Colby ordered, you laughed. "Shut the fuck up, Brock. Do not tell me what to do. And get out of my apartment." You yell, he rolls his eyes and stands up, grabbing his phone and walking out of your room to grab his backpack, not realizing the gravity of his actions. "Leave the key." You cross your arms. "What?" His eyes widen.

"You heard me, leave my key." Those words pull him back to reality as he reaches in his pocket for your spare apartment key you gave him. He sets it on your counter and leaves your apartment, his shoulders slump as he heard the door lock and he walks downstairs, taking his phone out and calling his friend, Sam. "What's up?" Sam asks, Colby sighs. "Can you pick me up?" Colby sighs. "Thought you were with Y/N until we leave tomorrow?" Sam questions confused. "Yeah, well, she broke up with me.." He mutters, shame and sadness in his voice. "Oh, shit..why?" Sam's concern evident in his tone. "I don't want to talk about it right now, too hungover. Just please come get me, man.." He rubs his eyes. "Yeah, of course, send your location."

After a long 15 minutes, Sam's car slows down in front of Colby and Colby gets in, Sam looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "I was a dick. I rarely told her when I'd get home, where I was and who I was with. I messed up, man.." Colby voice breaks and he covers his faces, trying not to cry. Sam looks at him in pure shock, he's never seen him nearly cry over a girl, hell Colby barely cries in front of same. "Shit, brother..you must've really liked her.." Colby looks at Sam. "I loved her.." He mumbles, love is not a word he throws around a lot.

They arrive home and Colby immediately goes to his room, he lays in his bed and holds back tears. How could be be such an idiot? He lost an amazing girl. He grabbed his phone and went to check social media, his eyes starting to water as he noticed that you blocked him in everything, besides Instagram. You didn't use it much, so you most likely forgot. He was quick to make a post, he posted a picture of you two, you cuddle into his chest as he smiled and took pictures, he typed a caption explaining how he was a douche and how much he was sorry, asking you to talk to him and ending it with a "I love you, Y/N. That's not a word I say to everyone, you're the first girl that treated me good and I took advantage of that, and I'm sorry. Truly."

He posted it and it got over a a million likes and hundreds of thousands of comments tagging your account and asking him if he's okay.

He just hopes you see it.

—————

The end! Yes, there will be a part two and I'm happy with how this turned out, let me know if you have any suggestions for part two and feel free to send requests as well, tell me something I could do better for future fanfics! Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

Thanks for reading!

-★⋆Dani⋆★-

[just-some-random-blogger]

The First Snow

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Viserys is tired of his pathetic brother being unable to admit his feelings for you because you were the embodiment of everything he hated about the court, so he takes his matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, exasperated big bro!viserys, in denial!daemon, gossip girl!aemma, bros being bros, fluff, pining, typos, etc.

A/N: just wanted to drop a daemon fic in hopes i can finally do the damn reqs i have T_T i am finishing assignments so i have not proofread this imma skedaddle real quick and hope i dont sound unintelligible Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @sloanexx

"Well, you do have eyes now, don't you, lover?" Aemma muttered with a grin as she and Viserys walked to their seats in the banquet hall. "Of course, I have eyes, my queen, it's just that I find it hard to believe my brother is unable to admit his feelings to anyone," Viserys sighs as he leads his wife to his seat, "don't you think it's rather miraculous that someone's shut him up?" "Viserys." "What? I'm just saying-" The king and queen make it to their spots but freeze just before they were about to sit. All the room's attention is glued on the long hair prince fumbling back and forth between the table and the knocked food beside him on the floor, as if he didn't know what do, as if he cared about the destruction he just created. Then all at once it made sense as to why he was jittery as he walked over to a woman with a damp dress, who was s profusely apologizing to the servants who were scurrying off to clean the mess that was made, the mess Daemon made. Visery's jaw slacks. Aemma chuckles, "how darling." The king sits on his chair and watches as his brother fidgets with his fingers as he assists the woman with her wine-stained clothing, as if he was a boy who had never touched a woman, as if he had not sullied over half of the women in the damn street of silk. Aemma watches her husband's expression, "I told you so."

Daemon, begrudgingly, dramatically, wholly against his will, marched to his brother's chambers, to where he was summoned so early in the morning.

He did not even bother to tie his hair, he did not even bother to change out of the clothes he wore last night at the banquet and slept in.

"Fucking Viserys, treating me like an errand boy," he mutters under his breath as he shoved the doors open.

And once the doors were open, Viserys and Aemma, who had been attending to the diorama of King's Landing, turn to Daemon, freshly woken up, clearly unhappy to be here. Viserys is on his chair, Aemma is standing behind him.

Daemon thinks of how they mock him with a smile. He sucks in a deep breath, both for theatrics, and to calm himself. "What the fuck do you want, Viserys?" he says lowly with his hands on his hips impatiently.

The king turns to his miniature dragon replica, "good morn to you too, brother."

Daemon sighs, "what do you-"

"I do hope you're not hungover."

Daemon grinds his teeth at his brother's words.

Viserys turns to him with raised brows.

Daemon snorts, "no. I'm not. I'm just fucking pissed I was called her so early to you when I could be damn well sleeping!"

Aemma's ears ring at Daemon's words. She brushes her ears and scolds lowly, "Daemon."

Daemon rolls his eyes, "what do you want?"

Viserys purses his lips and puts his dragon down, "well, perhaps you'd like to know that most of the guests from last night have already left."

Daemon shifts on one leg and taps his foot on the other.

"That includes Aemma's dear friend, and arguably your favorite lady-"

Daemon is stoic when he hears the name Viserys says. Viserys is partial impressed and disappointed by how good his brother is masking his emotions right now. Then the king thinks, it's either that, or he really is pissed for being woken up so early.

"So?!" the prince quips like a child, "what does that matter to me?"

Daemon waits. Viserys knits his brows.

The prince cannot believe it. He scoffs, "You woke me up for that?!"

Viserys' nose flare. His jaw ticks.

"My king," Aemma places a hand on his shoulders.

The king scoffs, "well, then, you must not care that is has begun to snow, then."

Daemon is in utter disbelief. Why the fuck would h-

"Nor the fact that your lady has been fucking injured on her way home back to her estate!" Viserys seethes.

Daemon freezes, "what?"

Viserys averts his gaze and focuses on his figurines. You want sour? He can give sour.

"Viserys, what-"

"Well, I suppose I do apologize for waking you for such trivial-"

"Where is she?!" Daemon cuts, "wher- where did-"

"Oh, I don't know!" Viserys snaps, "maybe she's been taken back to her home to be tended to, for gods sake, Daemon," he looks at him with annoyance, "but then again, you don't care anyway, so why bother to-"

Daemon exits in a rush before his brother could finish his rant.

Aemma massages Viserys' shoulders are he deflates. She purses her lips at the sight of him.

He rests his face in his hand, "I do this for him, but then he treats me like I'm a fly buzzing around his damned ear."

Aemma sighs then and offers, "you mayhap were too cruel to make him believe the lady was injured, my dear."

Viserys scoffs, "oh, he'll get over it," he crosses his arms, "that'll teach him for disrespecting his older brother," he hisses, "his fucking king!"

Aemma purses her lips, "oh, you're just as bad as he is, Viserys."

Viserys turns to her, brows knit, "take that back."

In his haste, Daemon managed to get to the stables, stealing a coat from the stable keeper and mounting on his horse. He quickly put it on, but then decided it would take to much time to do so, so he begins to ride off on his ride.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he saw who he saw, just as he was galloping out of the castle walls. Daemon stops his steed so abruptly he nearly ends up injuring the both of them. Another miracle was that he didn't.

I perk in my seat and open my carriage door right after it had been closed just as I hear someone scream my name out from outside.

"Yes?" I call in concern, "what has happened? What is the commotion?"

The next second, I pull back in shock and clutch my chest when the face of a disheveled prince with his wild, blonde hair spilling over his face, his dress shirt loose and open, and only one of his two sleeves on his coat worn on his arm heaves in front of me, frantic, panic and alarmed.

I raise my brows at him, leaning over, "my prince I-"

"Are you injured?"

I pull my head back and look at him for a moment. I watch as he pants and clutches the door and its frame, awaiting expectantly for my reply. My lips part and for some reason, I think to examine myself before answering, "n... no. I am not injured, your grace."

Daemon huffs then raises his brows, "have you gotten into an accident because of the snow?"

I give him a face. I knit my brows harshly as I shake my head incredulously, "my prince... it does not snow in King's Landing."

Daemon mimics my expression as he rolls his shoulders back and drops his arms to his side.

I raise my brows at him in concern and reach out for his cheek. I whisper, "Daemon."

Daemon stills against my touch.

I brush his hair away with both my hands and tuck his long tresses behind his ears. I frown at him and his rigid demeanor, "is everything alright?"

He snatches my one hand before I can pull it away.

And then he has me stiffening because of how he says my name. He speaks it so softly. So... caringly. I narrow my eyes at him. What has the prince all worked up like this?

I wait for him to continue his thoughts but instead he looks at me intently.

I huff and shake my head, "what is it, Daemon? What's wrong."

"I..." he starts softly, "I don't want you to leave," he utters, solemnly.

My jaw slacks. I straighten in my seat, "what?"

He brings my palm to his cheek and presses it there with his own, "I want you to stay with me."

I suck in a sharp breath, "what?"

Does he have a fever? No... but he's naturally quite warm.

Daemon's face softens and then it stiffens again, "actually," he pushes past me and forces his way into my ride, sitting in front of me, "take me with you."

"W-wh-"

"I must speak with your father."

"Daemon, I-"

He sticks his head out of the door and screams for my rider to go, shutting the door behind him as he turns back to me with a glint in his eye.

[eoieopda]

menace (pjm) — pt. vi

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 6/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Genre: Smut + Fluff Rating: M (18+) Word Count: 6k+ Summary: This Valentine’s Day looks a lot different than the last one. AUs: Older brother’s best friend, fuck buddies that hate(d) each other CW: Reader is AFAB & queer, Jimin is so soft omg, ✨vulnerability✨, so much kissing wtf who am i?, nipple play, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), DID I SAY SOFTNESS? A/N: Thank youuuuuu to everyone that stuck with me and these two idiots until the very end 💕 If you get lonely now that this is over, check out the rest of my masterlist. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

It was odd, starting over with someone you’d known longer than nearly everyone else in your life. Jimin wasn’t a stranger by any means; he’d always been present, life running parallel to yours, but you’d never truly seen him up close. 

Not accurately, anyway.

When you were younger, the pedestal you put him on kept the sun in your eyes. You’d have to squint to see his shortcomings, but you never did. Maybe that was one of yours, willful blindness. As far as you knew then — or, rather, as far as you bothered to look — Jimin had none. All he had was a bright, white light.

After that pedestal crumbled and Icarus took a swan-dive to the sub-basement of your expectations, the shadows down there warped the flaws you finally recognized. A trick of the light, they exaggerated every shitty thing you thought you saw and made them all worse. Scarier, even. Worth hating.

Once you finally allowed him to exist on equal footing, you realized that Jimin wasn’t made to be viewed in such high contrast. He wasn’t the monochromatic figure you’d mythologized, not two-dimensional. In reality, he was a prism refracting a thousand different, complicated colors that you hadn’t been giving him due credit for.

The first shade you discovered was the one that broke your brain the most.  Jimin — the only person you knew that never responded to anyone’s calls or texts — wasn’t actually as solitary as he seemed. Really, the only thing he hated more than being by himself was having to admit that fact to anyone, especially you. 

So, instead of calling to invite you along on his errand runs, he started showing up at your door to ask, “You’re not busy right now, are you?”

And just like that, without meaning to, you learned his routine. Another shade.

Every other Sunday, you’d wake up a little earlier than usual. No matter how tired or hungover you were, you would crawl out of your bed, into your well-functioning shower, and make yourself presentable. Then, when you no longer looked like a hobgoblin, you’d sit on your couch with your tea.

None of it was a conscious decision — waiting in the nearest seat to your front door, angling yourself so you could keep an eye on the driveway — at least, not at first. In fact, you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your newly-acquired therapist pointed it out.

“It sounds like you’re making space in your life for him, brick by brick.”

You laughed it off when she said it, but as weeks flew by, you finally had to concede that she was right. She was right about something else, too: you hadn’t been viewing yourself fairly, either. 

“Cellophane can be iridescent, too, if you hold it right.”

Whatever shades of your own that you uncovered, you gradually learned to let Jimin see, too. He picked up on all of your intricacies much faster than you did — because of course he did — and unlike you, he didn’t stumble upon revelations by surprise. He didn’t muddle through your less-pretty shades by trial and error, like you did. To the contrary, he had an unexpected knack for anticipating your reactions, and he planned accordingly.

Everything he did was purposeful, from his choice of words to his actions. Like exhuming his phone from his pocket — “only because it’s you” — to let you know if he was running late to plans you’d made. It was rare that he didn’t show up on time, but whenever he couldn’t, he’d call to promise that he really was on his way. And he always was, no matter how shitty the weather was, or how much he might’ve wanted an extra hour of sleep.

Jimin and all his shades showed up for you.

On Christmas, when Seokjin’s part-time girlfriend threw a dinner party without knowing what the fuck she’d signed up for. You were three-quarters through a bottle of wine before you were pulled in to take over meal preparations with Seokjin; and although Jimin was mostly useless in front of a stove, he was good at fetching whatever you’d need next without you having to point to it. He was even better at keeping your respective glasses full, which felt even more important. Washing dishes after the fact wasn’t all that bad with him there, also drunk off his face, drying them.

On New Years’ Eve, when Jimin was too sick to join the bar crawl but still set an alarm to wake up and call you — right at midnight. You stepped out onto a snow-slicked sidewalk in order to hear him, disappointing the hell out of the girl whose lips wanted to kiss you into the new year. You ignored her pout, ignored the chill in the air, and focused on the way Jimin’s raspy voice had dropped an octave. He was asleep when you swung by shortly after with a box of tissues and a bottle of decongestants, but that didn’t matter; his spare key wasn’t well hidden, either.

And again — now — on Valentine’s Day, when you both decided to blow off Seokjin’s deranged, annual Parent Trap scenario.

Sprawled out on his couch like you owned the place, you scrolled idly through Netflix’s home page with your face scrunched. The hand not holding the remote dipped down into the bag of kkokalcorn chips resting on your chest.

“You’ve got an identity crisis in your watch history, Jimin,” you yelled out to him, hoping he’d hear your teasing clearly from where he stood in his kitchen. “I’m having trouble believing that you’re not actually a middle-aged white woman.”

At this, he stopped rummaging through his refrigerator and stood straight up to glare at you. His eyes and mouth all flattened into matching, straight lines.

You rattled off your findings, nudging him further. “The Notebook, Sleepless in Seattle —”

With every title you dropped, so did one of Jimin’s heavy footfalls. He was halfway to you, scowl growing, in the blink of an eye.

“10 Things I Hate About You?” You snorted. “Little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Standing at the other side of his coffee table, he parked his hands on his hips and scoffed. “My choices are being criticized by an entire adult with corn-chip witch fingers? Are you kidding?”

Sheepishly, you pulled your hand from the kkokalcorn bag. He was correct; you had stuck your fingertips in the openings of the funnel-shaped chips. You wiggled them at him with a coy smile that made him roll his eyes. Satisfied, your mouth claimed the chip perched on the tip of your index finger.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the flash in his eyes just then was fondness.

You held the bag out to him, careful not to disrupt the rest of your manicure, and smiled to yourself when he accepted your offer. He tilted the bag and dumped a few of the chips into his open palm. With a small smile, he mused, “Haven’t had these since we were kids.”

That wave of nostalgia must have caught him in a riptide because he went quiet in a way that made you pause. You were about to speak up — to say what, you weren’t sure — but you promptly shut your mouth. Index and middle fingers now extended, he held out his hand to make a peace sign. Each fingertip had a small cone sitting crooked on top.

Jimin laughed unexpectedly, which almost made his already-crinkled eyes disappear completely. “Kinda look like little wizards.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that the thumping in your chest just then was fondness.

After shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you realized that the little wizards weren’t holding the glass of hard cider he’d gone to his kitchen to refill. You pushed yourself to your feet with one hand and a playfully exaggerated groan, popping the remaining chips from your fingers into your mouth at once.

“Leaving already?”

He should’ve known better than to ask you a question while your mouth was full, but he didn’t. The explanation he received was therefore unintelligible. Head cocked curiously to the side, lips slightly parted, he tried to connect the dots. Just as soon as he started, he gave up and trailed after you.

Jimin didn’t stop until you did, right in front of his refrigerator. He was so close, in fact, that you accidentally hit him with the door as you pulled it open.

“Oh, shit!” You muttered, shutting the door again quickly.

Wincing, your gaze flitted over to assess the damage you’d done to the outside of his bicep with the metal corner of the door. On instinct, you reached out to run the pads of your fingers over the faint red mark blooming there. Goosebumps spread in the wake of your touch, but you didn’t feel that same phantom chill. Just something electric that sparked against your fingertips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said gently. “I don’t bruise like you do.”

In the moment of silence that followed, you felt compelled to lift your eyes but not your hand. Unless you were imagining things, he leaned into your touch, just slightly. Not enough to see, but enough to feel.

It’d crossed your mind a thousand times since you walked through his front door. With that throwaway statement, Jimin confirmed he’d been thinking about it, too — about who you both were on this date last year. About the way you’d only ever let him treat you roughly because anything sweeter threatened the distance you were trying to keep. About the bruises given with no chance to kiss them better.

You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was he.

“Jimin,” you started.

It was the farthest along in your sentence that your voice would let you go. 

After the million baby steps you’d taken in his direction and the healing you’d allow yourself to do, you were still scared to show your cards. Now, you’d seen him in technicolor. Now, if you fucked things up, you’d never be able to go back to black and white.

What if you fuck things up again?

Jimin sensed your hesitation, but he didn’t accept it. Instead, he closed the distance so slowly that your hand wasn’t disrupted from where it rested on his bicep. His hands found you just as easily. One made its home at the small of your back while the other cupped the side of your face. 

With a whisper lighter than air, he asked, “If I kiss you, will you let me?”

His eyes flitted from yours, to your lips, then back again.

“Or will you kamikaze dive into my kitchen table?”

Your reply was even softer than the question posed. “Only one way to find out.”

If the uptick at the corner of his lips told you anything, it was that he intended to.

Cautiously, as if sudden moves would startle you, he pulled your body flush against his. His other hand tilted your face upwards, thumb gently tucked under your chin while the rest of his fingers rested in the space just below your ear. His touch kept your body present even when the sensation of his kiss threatened to sweep your feet out from underneath you.

Plush pink and delicate, his lips molded to yours like they were specially designed to do just that. Like cracks giving way to let the light in, you opened yourself up for him. Licked into his mouth, eager to learn the parts of him you’d missed in all the time you’d shut him out.

And if you listened — really listened, over the moan he swallowed from you — you could’ve sworn you heard all the silly pages of your childhood diary flipping furiously. Scribbled to hell and back with a glitter gel pen, each one noting that this is what you wanted, this is what you wanted, this is everything you wanted.

The eternity in that kiss wasn’t long enough. Eventually, he broke the contact, pulling a disagreeing gasp from you when he pulled away. Your lips buzzed from the sudden loss of pressure — that, or they trembled without the warmth of his mouth. Either way, he was gone too soon. 

The hand you had resting against his bicep slipped down to the center of his chest to tug at the fabric of his t-shirt. Unable to nip that growing neediness in the bud, you frowned. 

“Jimin,” you sighed. You had nothing to follow-up with. His name was the totality of that thought.

Several moments of silence came next. His brow furrowed, like he was trying and failing to find something less vulnerable to say. He couldn’t. When it slipped out, his eyes searched your face for a reaction.

“I want to be soft with you.”

Any time you’d been together before, it was carnal, dripping with unarticulated hurt. He didn’t want that, not this time. You didn’t have to guess why.

Though the level of desperation you both felt now was familiar, the underscore had changed. Jimin wanted to touch you carefully because he felt fragile — so did you. If either of you moved too quickly, too roughly, you ran the risk of upending the balance you’d found. Like you, Jimin seemed to know that this was delicate.

You lifted your hand from his shirt and placed it on top of his where it sat above your jaw. Gently, your fingers wrapped around his and lowered them so you could intertwine them properly. Then, without a word and without letting go, you led him out of the kitchen into the small hallway.

This was the first time you’d crossed his house without sprinting and violently shedding your clothes as you went. It felt like you were seeing it all for the first time because, in a way, you were. 

You’d never noticed the framed photos lining the walls of the hallway, or the subtle notes of grey in the white paint behind them. In all the time you’d spent there before, it’d never clicked that this house was a home. Everywhere, there were hints of him — his interests, his achievements, the friends you’d never met — sitting so blatantly in places you’d previously ignored. 

Jimin apologized when you stepped over the threshold into his bedroom. “My plan was to clean it tomorrow.”

He smiled sheepishly as his free hand carded through the hair at the base of his neck.

“Doesn’t do you any good today, though.”

“I don’t mind,” you hummed in reply, shutting the door slowly behind him. “My plan was to do laundry today, and — well, you’ll see how that worked out for me.”

You kept your fingers interlocked with his while you surveyed his room. Like the rest of the house, you’d been in there countless times before without truly seeing any of it. Apart from the bare minimum clutter he’d needlessly apologized for, every surface was thoughtfully decorated. Even the absence of some keepsake or trinket on his shelf was purposeful. 

He keeps space.

Propped on a stand near his dresser was his guitar, which you didn’t even know he still played. Of course he does, you thought, he’d have been an idiot to throw that talent away. 

You were smiling long before you noticed you were doing it, even more so when you clocked where it sat. Just like it did in his childhood home, the guitar was positioned directly across the room from his doorway — the first and last thing he’d see when he came and left. 

Carefully, you reached out and trailed one finger over the tuning pegs. It all felt forbidden, but stupidly, you felt compelled. You spent a lifetime aching to touch him. For reasons you couldn’t explain, his guitar was no different.

Watching you caress his guitar made his pulse race harder; you could feel it where your wrist aligned with his. If nothing else had changed, you suspected that he still didn’t let anyone lay a finger on it. Jimin always insisted that he did all the maintenance himself because he didn’t trust the technician at the local music shop to be careful enough. 

To your surprise, it didn’t appear to be anxiety spinning circles in his stomach as he watched you. He spun you around, and it was clear from the look in his eye — the unshakeable desire he felt to touch you that same way.

You wondered what he was thinking while he studied your face in silence — if the months he’d spent trying to teach himself to hate it had blurred your features; and if he saw them clearly now.

The smattering of freckles across the bridge of your nose which swept over the tops of your cheekbones — even though it was winter, and you hadn’t seen much of the sun for weeks. 

The small scar interrupting your eyebrow, which you’d gotten when both of your families went camping together a million years ago. He’d sprinted across tide pools to help you back to your feet, reaching you long before Seokjin could catch up.

You didn’t know if it was a conscious decision now, but he leaned down and placed a kiss there the way you wished he had back then. 

“This isn’t still illegal, is it?” He murmured against your skin.

Unable to breathe, let alone speak, you shook your head so subtly that it couldn’t reasonably be counted as movement. Your next move was bolder, though: You unzipped your sweatshirt, shrugged your way out of it, and let it fall at your feet. 

With a quick glance down, you remembered what you were wearing and cringed with your whole body.

Neither of your socks matched; your sweatpants had a hole near the crotch; and your sweatshirt’s sole task had been to hide the ratty, old MapleStory t-shirt that you stole from Seokjin when he went off to college.

A certifiable mess in a self-imposed dry spell.

Jesus Christ.

“Laundry day,” you blurted out in explanation, though he hadn’t asked. He wasn’t laughing, either — not reacting in any way to roast you the way you expected him to. Still, the tips of your nose and ears burned with embarrassment. “I didn’t plan for… this.”

His index finger dipped under the hem of your t-shirt and his thumb mirrored the way it traced the stitching. 

“I kind of forgot that you own shit like this.” He replied softly, looking more pensive than usual. “Never see you in sweats.”

It was a fair point.

Jimin had slept next to you on three occasions — when the rules permitted — and you always woke up the same way you’d fallen asleep: completely naked. Somehow, it felt even more intimate for him to see what you wore when you went to bed without him. The silly, branded t-shirt probably said more about you than your bare chest did.

You realized that you’d never seen him in his current state before, either, with black joggers hanging low on his hips. His fluffy, air-dried hair didn’t sit smoothly the way it normally did. You wanted so badly to run your fingers through it, but there was a stronger compulsion to reckon with:

His shirt was ripped at the hem, not quite covering the lower inches of his torso.

Unthinkingly, your hand reached out so your fingers could rest against the skin there, midway down faint the trail of hair that dipped under the waistband of his pants. So much warmer than you, he shivered at your touch. You paused, self-conscious, then glanced up at him with eyebrows raised.

Is this okay?

You didn’t have to ask out loud to get an answer. It came as a whisper — “cold hands” — and it was accompanied by a smile that made your knees weak.

He nodded towards the other side of his room and said, “C’mere.” 

The hand that previously held yours found it again. Fingers slipping easily into the spaces between yours, he led and you followed. 

The crisply folded sheets contrasted completely with the effortless coziness of the rest of the space, but they didn’t stay that way for long. With his free hand, Jimin gripped the comforter and tugged it loose. It fluttered and fell freely back down over the bed.

Sighing reflexively, you slipped into the opening he’d created within the blankets. Every fiber smelled like him — clementine flower, orange blossom, water lily and orris — and now, so would you.

Jimin waited for you to scoot over before filling the space next to you, tilting his body inward to keep his eyes on you. His bent knee pressed against your outer thigh. It was chaste, especially when you considered the thousand other ways he’d touched you, but it had you vibrating in place, nonetheless. He probably felt it when he leaned in and kissed you for the third time, fingers sliding into your hair.

Tangled in him, your intrusive thought won out. Loose, it flew like a ping-pong ball around the inside of your skull: He can probably feel all that dry-shampoo, too. 

Like he was begging you to focus, the tip of his tongue flicked across your bottom lip and stole a whimper. Your lips parted eagerly against his to accommodate him; both of you starving for every bit of tenderness you’d refused to let him give before. 

As he poured more of himself into that kiss, the hand in your hair ran slowly down the length of your neck, over the slope of your shoulder, and down the curve of your torso. It stopped on the top of your thigh, warming you through to your bones. For the first time, his fingers didn’t dig harshly into the doughy flesh he found there. Now, his feather-light touch left you buzzing instead of bruised.

With every second that passed, your tingling spine struggled more and more to hold you upright. Noting the slight shift in your posture, Jimin guided you — still lip-locked — to rest your head on his pillows. It wasn’t until you tilted your head slightly to the side that his lips left yours; dipped down below your jaw to pepper the exposed skin there with unbearably soft kisses.

Each one made your pulse race harder than the last, pulled needy little breaths out of your mouth.

“Sound so pretty when you sigh like that,” he hummed against your throat. “Might have to kiss you like this forever if this is what it gets me.”

You’d been underneath him more times than you could presently recall, but never like this. Until now, you never understood how a person could say they loved you without any words at all, but you heard it. More than anything, you felt it in every brush of his lips — in the static crackling around you, charged with every little, languid line his tongue left behind.

The only thing distracting from your swelling heart was the wetness pooling in the bikini bottoms you’d hastily thrown on in the absence of clean underwear.

Fucking laundry day.

The sole consolation was the fact that the blend of polyester and elastane was better suited for a flood than any lace you would’ve consciously selected.

The breath behind his words tickled and surprised you, derailing your train of thought.

“Is it against the rules to tell you how beautiful I think you are?”

The circles he drew against the fabric of your sweatpants had you hypnotized, but you still managed to reply, “No more rules. Except — Oh, fuck.”

You mewled at the sensation of him suckling at the spot where your neck joined your shoulder. 

“Except that you can’t ever stop.”

His lips curled into a smile against the love bite he’d so carefully crafted. 

“I won’t,” he murmured before placing a kiss in the same spot he’d marked. “But I may need an intermission to get these incredibly chic clothes off your body. Kind of feels sacrilegious, though, I’ve gotta say.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, eyebrows raised. He pursed his lips to keep from smiling, forced the straightest face he could muster, then traced his fingertip over the rip in the crotch of your sweatpants. Sounding downright reverent, he explained, “They’re holey.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” You dropped your head back against the pillows with a groan that didn’t outgun your laughter. “Straight to jail for that. Seriously, that’s a federal crime.”

When your eyes stopped rolling and settled on him, Jimin was already looking down at you with amusement sparkling in the deep brown of his irises. He said nothing, opting instead to kiss you — for the fourth time — as a farewell before pulling away entirely. 

The spot next to you went cold as soon as he sat up, but — bravely — you didn’t complain. You watched with your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. He grabbed the end of his haphazardly, perfectly cropped t-shirt and pulled it off over his head. 

Your only instinct was to reach up to his bare chest and trace every plane of it. To your dismay, Jimin intervened. Fingers at the hem of your top now, he stared expectantly at you until you stretched your arms above your head. That stupid, stolen shirt was guided up and off before it was discarded somewhere unseen.

Jimin’s pupils dilated immediately, gaze sweeping over your bare chest like he was beyond grateful that all your bras were at home, drowning in your washing machine. Uninhibited, he leaned forward. The delicate, cuban-link chain of necklace tickled the skin of your stomach while he placed an open-mouthed kiss in the space between your breasts. Cool to the touch, you shivered for more reasons than one.

When his tongue flicked out over one erect nipple, all you could offer was a breathy sigh, brain scrambled to hell and back. He seemed to draw inspiration from this — him and his goddamn mouth promptly switched tactics. Mimicking you, he looked up at you from under his lashes and blew a warm stream of air over your other nipple.

You were full-out whimpering underneath him. “Shit.”

“Yeah?” He smirked before taking the pebbled bud into his mouth and sucking softly, eyes still locked on yours. 

Can I cum from this?

Oh god, I really might cum from this.

His mouth’s ministrations continued while his hands swept gently down the curves of your waist. That is, until they reached the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. Abruptly, Jimin stopped and sat back onto his calves.

You didn’t have to ask. Jimin’s eyes widened in tandem with the grin on his face; and you knew what he’d discovered. Smiling now with all his teeth, he tugged playfully at the knotted tie sitting above your right hip, keeping your bikini bottoms in place.

He snorted incredulously, “Be fucking for real.”

“Stop.” The word was elongated as you whined. It was useless, but you swatted at his arm. “I told you — ”

“I know, I know. It’s laundry day.” Fuck, his affection for you was written all over his face. “Incredible — truly, I have no notes.”

You buried your face in your hands to hide from him, but he didn’t let you. Just like he did that time on your couch, Jimin pulled your hands away from your face and held them in his own. This time, when he kissed you, you didn’t tear yourself away from him. Instead, you did the opposite. You grabbed the sides of his face in your hands and leaned into him.

With his hands now free, he was able to push your sweatpants down the rest of the way without extricating his lips from yours. Those fucking bikini bottoms went with them when he slipped the fabric over your ankles and tossed them blindly over his shoulder.

Mouth moving hungrily against yours, his hand hovered over your cunt, radiating warmth. You fought to keep your last shred of patience but lost, shifting underneath him to beg wordlessly for his touch. He obliged. His middle finger dipped between your sopping folds until it found the swollen bead of your clit and spiraled over it.

“Fuck,” you moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it, kissed you so deep your mind went blank.

The slow pace he’d chosen normally would have driven you mad, but instead of coming across as a taunt — or a punishment — you got the impression that he was basking in your arousal. That he was taking his time, savoring you and the million ways your body craved his.

When you pulled back, your lips were kiss-bitten and palpably swollen. He must have felt your quickened breath against his own lips. They autonomously curved into the tiniest sliver of a smile. 

Watching him watch you, it was clear that Jimin loved you like this — wide-eyed, unguarded, inviting. He loved you generally. You knew that much for certain as he gazed down at you, and you were so fucking thankful that neither of you had to keep pretending otherwise.

Whatever trance he’d fallen into ended when you whispered, “Please.”

Though your plea wasn’t much more than an exhale, he didn’t need to be told twice. Momentarily, he stood; and as he did, your own hand dipped down between your legs. He stepped out of his joggers with his focus trained on you, staring spellbound while you touched yourself in his absence. Wet enough to drip.

If you had to wager on it, you’d bet that he could’ve stood there all night observing, listening to the way you moaned as you slicked your own fingers, but the darkened tip of his cock was weeping like he wanted you badly enough to ache. Completely incapable of spending any more time as a bystander, he fell to his knees between your legs. There, he guided them further apart with his hands.

Desperately, you grabbed one of his hands from where it sat on your knee and pulled him so that he was leaning over you once again. You wanted to feel the way his breath caught as he entered you, bare chest pressing into yours while he filled you. Needed him — just him — all the time.

Forearms now pressed to the mattress and fingers in your hair, he caged you in. His forehead came to rest against yours when you reached into the space between your bodies and dragged his tip through the mess he’d made of you. That faint squelch was obscene enough in the quiet of his room. It couldn’t hold a candle to the groan that escaped his chest when he finally entered you.

“Holy shit.” He exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. Your walls enveloped him, squeezing tight enough that no question remained about where he belonged. “Fucking missed you.”

That initial, perfect ache threatened to blind you, but it wouldn’t have mattered with the way your eyes screwed shut — too overcome with want to do much more than breathe. Slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretched you until he bottomed out. It was the closest thing you’d ever had to an out-of-body experience.

“Missed you,” you mumbled.

Well beyond fuck drunk, you bordered on incoherent. A kiss on your forehead lassoed you, brought you crashing back down. It was redundant, but he murmured, “Come back to me.”

You blinked up at him in a haze.

“Want you to look at me.” 

He sounded shy, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him, and you didn’t need any further explanation.

Eye contact had never been on the table before, deemed early on to be far too fucking intimate. If this is what he wanted, you decided, you’d never take your eyes off him again. Especially not when he looked at you the way he did then, like you hung the fucking stars in the sky.

You countered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, like he might never get the chance again.

No amount of closeness could’ve been enough, but you settled for wrapping your legs around him. With his range of motion now limited, he grinded against you; the curve of his cock rubbed against that secret spot behind your pubic bone. 

Bones? Do you still have any of those?

Every tantalizing, slow thrust made it harder for you to remember why you’d ever required harshness when his gentleness now was infinitely more intense. It was so much better — being loved by him rather than hated.

Desperate fingers left half-moon imprints on his back, which was beginning to slick with sweat. The spaces between your whimpers lessened while the pressure in your abdomen began to build. Jimin had you teetering at the edge of the world, and you told him so with your lips at his ear, “Please — I’m so close.”

His forehead creased, and you watched in real time as determination etched itself into his features. He was perfect — beautiful — and he was close, too. You clenched; he cursed, “Fuck.”

You looked up at him through fluttering lashes, silently begging him not to stop. Not now, not ever. Stay.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Jimin murmured, burying himself deeper with every thrust. “You know that, right? How much you mean to me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He watched your face as you came — when your eyes rolled back, and your head tilted against his pillows. Your legs loosened their binds around him as they shook, gasping moans tumbling out of your open mouth. His pace didn’t falter; his presence deep inside of you only elongated your orgasm.

Bliss.

You were still fluttering around his length when your eyes finally drifted open again. Not even through your first aftershocks, his panting breaths alone could’ve pushed you headfirst into a second orgasm.

His gaze had dropped at some point to see the way your cunt clung to him with every backstroke. He must’ve felt you staring, though; he looked back up at you, pupils blown wide. That was all it took to dot stars along the edges of your vision.

Back arching up off the mattress, you gushed around him once again. Mindless babbling — consisting only of his name and expletives — fell clumsily off your tongue. It caught both of you off-guard when your shaky voice managed to plead, “Wanna feel you cum — please. Want you to let go for me.”

Only after you begged him did his thrusts become desperate, reckless. There was the unmistakable sound of your wetness and skin colliding with skin, and then there was the low moan that built in the seat of his chest and broke free. Face buried in the crook of your neck as he came, the heat of his breath on your skin was rivaled only by the dizzying warmth of his release spilling into you.

He struggled to hold himself up while his spent cock still twitched inside of you. If you were being honest, you adored the way his weight pinned you against his mattress. Maybe, you thought, you could stay there forever.

Eventually, an exhausted voice came from the curve of your shoulder, almost too muffled to hear.

“How is it —” Jimin panted. “— That in the hundred times we’ve had sex, it never felt like that?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. Tingling fingertips ran lightly and lazily across his shoulder blades. The hint of hesitation bubbling in the pit of your stomach cautioned you not to speak your thoughts out loud, so you stared at the ceiling above you and willed yourself to be brave.

Your voice threatened to give up on its way out.

“Nobody’s ever fucked me like they love me before.”

He mustered all the energy he still had to turn his head and look at you. At first, you couldn’t tear your eyes off the ceiling to look back. Make space, you begged yourself; and so, you did.

With his chest resting heavily on yours, you wondered if he could feel the way your heart skipped a beat at that eye contact alone. The glimmer in his eye informed you that, yes, he could. 

“Better get used to it, then.” He punctuated his thought by pressing his lips to your temple. “‘Cause that’s what you signed up for.”

You smirked, “Oh? Was there a contract?”

You might’ve kept teasing him if he didn’t tilt your head to kiss you properly — and fuck, you were melting all over again.

“Sealed with a kiss, no less.” He leaned down to nip affectionately at your earlobe. Mouth at the shell of your ear, he purred. “Like any deal with the devil should be.”

“Goddamn.” You whistled. “Promoted from menace to devil already. Congratulations.”

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out of you and forced himself upright to his feet. Before you could even ask him to, Jimin leaned down to kiss the lips you’d poked out into a pout. Your voice was uncharacteristically needy as your question slipped out.

“You are coming back, right?”

“Nope,” he hummed against your lips. You leaned away from him with your jaw dropped incredulously. “I’m taking a shower and I’m taking you with me.”

That was the only warning you got before one of Jimin’s arms slipped under the hinge of your knees, and the other disappeared behind your back. You screamed. Instead of flailing — a one-way ticket to the floor, you imagined — you threaded your arms around his neck and clung to him as if your life depended on it.

“Pardon me,” you sputtered. “But what the fuck is happening right now?”

“Shhh — pipe down. I’m keeping a promise.”

You stared at him expectantly. For a moment, he ignored you and continued quietly on his way towards the bathroom. It wasn’t until he reached the threshold that he paused with a sigh.

The look he shot you then was far more earnest than you could’ve expected under the circumstances. One that said he saw you, not through you, and he wasn’t going to look away.

Jimin said it breezily, like it cost him even less than the air it took to vocalize it: “I am not letting you down again.”

A pinprick of tears stung the corners of your eyes. You fought like hell to keep them where they belonged. It was such a stupid joke — made so lightly — and it still held more weight than anything you’d ever heard.

Eyes swimming despite your resistance, you sniffled and laughed. “Not, like, literally, though — right?”

“Aw, baby.” He kissed your temple again, cooing. Part of you hated it, but the rest of you swooned. “Don’t test me.”

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[solarisstyles]

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?(IN CASE I MISS YOU)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader Word Count: 1.6k+ Warnings: vomiting, mentions of drinking/being drunk/hungover, angst, pining Summary: Harry and you have feeling for each other that you both refuse to admit. A/N: None!

Having your head in the toilet was not how you wanted to start your day. Your fun night out has turned into a morning from hell. Like the world was mocking you for having fun and trying to ignore your feelings.

Harry, the ever loving best friend, pushed open the bathroom door as you were mid retch into the toilet, throwing up again. Pausing in the doorway and scrunching his nose at the noise, “Ugh, you’re still throwing up?” he asked. 

Setting down the glass of water and bottle of ibuprofen on the sink vanity, he then kneels behind you, gathering your hair and holding it back from your face.

“Shut the fuck up Harry. I’m dying.” you gasped out, trying to catch your breath and ignore the urge to dry heave.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” he chuckled. “I told you to stop after the fifth shot. You’ve never been able to handle your alcohol in large amounts.”

You rolled your eyes, and even though he couldn’t see it from your position over the toilet, he could feel it.

If someone had told you that a mutual friend would introduce you to your now best friend, who would just so happen to be a pop star, you would have laughed. The friendship was so unlikely considering your constant differences in opinions. Sometimes you would argue more than anything else, but aside from the bickering, Harry was a great friend. There’s been many mornings now in the short year you’ve known one another, that Harry has helped you nurse a hangover.

Last night you drank with a different intent other than having fun with your best friend. You were drinking to forget, to numb the sting you felt in your chest. Harry is going on tour for six months, leaving you behind to house sit for him. It doesn’t sound all that bad, and it wouldn’t be if you weren’t harboring all of these feelings for Harry.

The feelings weren’t always there. It’s something that gradually grew over time. Bigger and bigger till they were gnawing away at your heart. Everytime you would look at Harry for longer than necessary, you would forget to breathe, your heart rate would spike. It scared you to no end at first till you came to realization one night. 

You were sitting in your car after having dinner with him, watching as he strutted over to his own car to leave. He looked flawless underneath the harsh lights of the parking lot. The restaurant had closed over two hours ago, kicking you guys out when the staff had to clean up for the night. You moved the conversation to your car, looking for any excuse to not part ways. He sat in your passenger seat, ranting about something he saw on the front of a magazine as he stood in line at the store. Waving your phone in his hand as he spoke, only pausing his theatrical movements when he thought of another song to add to your shared playlist. It was moments like these that you treasured most.

- - - - - - - - -

The next big moment that solidified your feelings for Harry, was the night you got a flat tire. It was late, dark, and you were on the side of the highway with no exit in sight. The best part? It was pouring down rain. You were scared and didn’t know what to do in a situation like this. You’d never changed a tire before and you surely didn’t want your first attempt to be in the rain. With shaky hands, you tapped Harry’s contact to call him. You felt bad calling him so late, knowing he had things to do tomorrow.

“Hello?” his groggy voice sounded through your car speakers. He could hear the clicking of your hazard lights and your soft sniffles. “Hey, where are you? Are you okay?” he frantically asked, sitting up in his bed.

“No…” you mumbled through your tears. “I’ve got a flat tire and I don’t know what to do. It’s raining, and dark, and I’m scared.”

“Share your location, I’m on my way.” he said, quickly throwing on a hoodie and shorts. He’ll never admit to you how panicked he was that night. Or admit that pang he felt in his chest thinking you might have been hurt.

It helped him realize his own feelings he had for you that ran much deeper than a friendship. He couldn’t confess that to you though. He couldn’t take the risk of losing you in case you didn’t feel the same way.

- - - - - - - - -

There have been many more moments in between the big ones. Christmas’ spent together, birthdays, family vacations he would drag you on, small interactions between the stage and crowd at concerts. They all added up to the hopeless love you both felt for one another but were too scared to fully express.

Finally feeling the nausea pass, you moved to lean back against the cool porcelain of the tub. Pinching the bridge of your nose as the migraine you had pounded at the front of your head. “I’m never drinking again.” you grumbled.

Harry smiled softly at you and shook his head. Grabbing the water bottle and medicine, he sat next to you and handed them to you. “That’s what you said last time.” he teased in a lighthearted tone.

Your head hurt far too much to argue, so you just accepted the water, swishing it around in your mouth and spitting it into the toilet before you flushed it down with the remains of your stomach. Popping the two pills and using the rest of the water to take it, you sighed. Your arms hugged around your legs and your forehead resting against your bent knees.

Gently rubbing your back, Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even when he should be repulsed by you, he thought you were the most amazing person ever. “Want to lay down in my bed? You will be more comfortable there.” 

The thought of a soft bed sounded all too inviting, the thought of Harry’s bed made butterflies flutter in your already queasy stomach. “Can I have the fan on?” you asked, turning to look at him some.

“You can have the fan on, and I’ll even close the blackout curtains for you.” His smile makes it harder to resist. 

You smiled softly back at him, “You spoil me.” 

Chuckling, he stood up, holding a hand out to you so he could help you up. “Is there any other way to treat a drama queen?” he asked.

Huffing a breath out of your nose, you accepted his hand anyway, letting him guide you to his bedroom and tuck you in. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he walked around and closed the curtains like he promised and even turned his fan on. The cool breeze on your face helped ease the rest of the nausea and relax you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, he gently brushed his fingers through your hair, admiring your relaxed face as you now laid with your eyes closed. Not wanting it to be creepy in case you woke up, he softly stood and began to leave the room so you could rest.

“Harry?” you softly called before he could leave.

Turning quickly to you, he softly responded, “Yeah?”

“Could you stay?”

The tense moment of silence that followed your question made you worry. Unknowingly to you, Harry was fighting his own demons. 

‘Don’t overthink it.’ he thought to himself. ‘You’ve shared a bed before. This is no different.’

Without verbally answering you, he made his way to the other side of the bed and slid underneath the covers with you.

You both laid there, minds racing with multiple thoughts at the same time. Six months was a long time. The longest either of you will be away from each other since becoming friends. Both of you have the same thought echoing like a mantra in your head, ‘What if they find someone while we’re apart?’. It was a pain neither of you were ready to face if it happened. 

The both of you thought about how much you’d miss this, the nights spent drinking together and waking up to take care of whoever has the worst hangover. Random dinners together, arguing about why certain songs don’t deserve to be added to your playlist, constantly being in each other’s presence even when there was nothing to do. All of that will be gone for six months. You weren’t sure how you were going to cope with this. Harry has the band to distract him, make time go by faster. For you it will feel like a drag, especially when you’re in his home surrounded by everything that’s so painfully ‘Harry’.

You wished you weren’t so prideful. It would be so much easier if you were able to just tell him how much you’ll miss him. Expressing your feelings was always scary to you though, and Harry wasn’t any better. Scared of crossing that imaginary line that you both would often tightrope on. The soft touches, brushing of hands, hugs that last a lot longer than they really needed to. You’ve never been the kind of person to crave physical touch, but with Harry it’s all you wanted. Just knowing he was laying next to you right now was good enough.

Soon though he wouldn’t be. Facetime calls won’t be the same, the texts won’t be as exciting. Because nothing beats the random ‘come over’ texts you would send to one another. Six months of thinking, wondering, and stressing over if it’s worth just admitting your feelings to each other. ‘It’s all going to be worth it’ you both think.

[wonijinjin]

falling for u

author’s note: inspired by the song ‘falling for u’ by seventeen. this is the second part of my work ‘thinkin’ about you’. the first part of this fic can be found here.

synopsis: you drinking a little too much and calling joshua to take you home wasn’t the best idea, or was it?

word count: 1.6k | genre: fluff, mutual pining, a little bit of angst, close friends to lovers | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol and being drunk, the curse word ‘fuck’

joshua almost dozed off, but being the only one awake in the car with his thoughts gave him a reason to be on alert even though it was late in the evening. 15 minutes after parking the car he decided on waking you up so you could finally lay down in your bed, which would probably be more comfortable than a carseat. “wake up sleeping beauty, we are here.” he said, softly caressing your arm. you stirred and opened your eyes, trying to register where you were exactly. “huh? i fell asleep, didn’t i? i wasn’t gonna, you probably had a boring drive as i was not awake to entertain you with my fantastic jokes.” you giggled. “yeah, actually i let you sleep a bit more, you were knocked out bad for real.” he explained, opening the door to get you out. you managed to climb out of the vehicle and the two of you walked to your front door. you pulled out the keys and tried to open the door, failing miserably. “you know what? give me this, i will open it.” joshua said after a minute of you not being able to get the key in the hole. you laughed at this. “sorry shua.”

you got into the house, leaning on joshua as you felt dizzy from all the alcohol you had consumed through the night. “woah y/n be careful, i will have to carry you on my back or something if you continue to make this more difficult than it should be.” he lightly joked while manoeuvring your tired body towards the bedroom. “i wouldn’t mind that. my prince in shining armour coming to rescue me from the consequences of my poor decisions.” you chuckled, to which although you couldn’t see it, his cheeks grew bright red. “okay let’s just get going, you need to sleep, you are drunk.” he said in a hushed tone. while you changed into your pajamas he went to the kitchen and prepared a glass of water and a painkiller on your nightstand to take in the morning, because you would probably need them to soothe the hungover symptoms. “are you okay in there?” he asked, standing in front of the bathroom door. “of course silly, i am so perfectly okay, more than okay.” you shouted as the door burst open and you left the room. “well i can see that you still have energy, but too bad for you, i don’t, so come on, to bed you go.”

he tucked you into bed and was ready to leave when he felt a tug on his sleeve. “what? you know i know this place like the back of my hand, if you are worried that i won’t find my way out you don’t have to be-“ “joshua shut up, i know you can get out by yourself.” you slurred while looking up at him. he raised his brows at this. “then what do you want?” you grinned. “i want a goodnight kiss.” he froze at your words, eyes wide. “y/n you are not acting like yourself, you are saying nonsense right now.” he whispered in the dark, the moonlight from outside shining on his face, confusion all over it. “and what if i mean it?” you replied “what if when i say i love you i mean that too shua?” you mumbled to yourself, voice barely audible. you thought he didn’t even hear it, little did you know he did hear the last sentence too. his lips formed into a thin line “you don’t mean it y/n. i should really go, i will lock the door when i get outside, i have a spare key anyways.” he said, turning on his heels to walk to the door. “please shua.” you pleaded for the last time. he didn’t say a word, just stepped next to your bed, and crouched down beside it. “close your eyes and hurry to dreamland y/n. please.” you did as he told you, already regretting your request, even though you knew he thought you said this because you were still very drunk. you were embarrassed for sure, not wanting to look him in the eye ever again.

while you were lost in thought he hovered over your head, slowly bending down and giving a tender, soft kiss on your forehead. you gasped in surprise. when you felt his lips on your skin you didn’t want the moment to pass as quickly as it did, him standing up after a few seconds, leaving in a rush. “goodnight y/n, sleep well.” he whispered from the doorway.

the next morning when you woke up you found the medicine and the water joshua left for you and the events of the previous night flashed in your head, however you didn’t remember what happened after you fell asleep on the way home. you sat up in panic, and checked your phone. you saw a missed call from joshua with a text message saying you two needed to talk. you were scared to answer the text so you left him on seen thinking you could reply later, but as you were to get up your phone rang again, it was joshua of course. with shaking hands you picked it up. “i saw you saw my text. we need to talk y/n.” he sounded serious. you gulped. “about what? i am so sorry about last night i shouldn’t have drank that much at the club.” he sighed on the other end of the line. “you don’t need to apologise, but we need to discuss something, in person.” you were freaking out at this point, you didn’t say anything hurtful to him, did you? “did i say something that hurt you? i really hope not, gosh i cannot even remember how i got into bed and-“ “y/n, stop. i will be at your place in a few, okay?” you couldn’t say no to him because he hung up, so you just hoped it wasn’t something really serious that happened last night.

few minutes after the call your doorbell rang, which upon opening revealed a tired joshua; you could see bags under his eyes like he didn’t get a wink of sleep at night, hair messy, breathing heavy like he just ran the marathon.

“did you mean it?” he asked immediately as you opened the door fully. “meant what? shua come inside let’s talk there-“ “no y/n. i need to know. were you being serious? that you think about me a lot? that you love me? do you mean what you said, or were you just too drunk last night?” you stood there in shock, still in your pajamas, with messed up hair, looking like a zombie, not even fully awake to be ready to process this. your mouth went dry, already regretting everything you did and apparently said last night. “why? would you not want to be friends with me if you knew i loved you like a best friend shouldn’t? would it change how you view me? would you be disgusted by the fact that your best friend fell for you?” you questioned, tears welling up in your eyes. you were not ready to let him go, to let him avoid you because he knows about your feelings, but looks like it was already too late to back down. “yes, i meant it. every word. i love you joshua hong.” your cheeks were now wet, you didn’t realise that you were crying. you shut the door before he could answer, not wanting him to see you in this state, an emotional mess. “y/n open the door.” “i don’t want to hear it. now you know my secret, just go away. i know i messed up shua, i know. i shouldn’t have fallen for you, my best friend who clearly wouldn’t ever return these feelings.” there was a moment of silence, only your sobs could be heard. “who said i don’t return them?” you stopped crying for a moment. “look shua i don’t need your pity-“ “open the fucking door y/n. right now.” he said in a soft but still firm tone, and you did. he caught your form in his arms, cupping your cheeks. “you are such an idiot. i have loved you for so long y/n. you don’t know how many nights i spent thinking about you, everytime i see you i am falling for you even deeper. when you said you loved me before i left i couldn’t believe my ears. i have been so sure of the fact that you are not looking at me in the way i look at you that i thought it was just you being drunk. i love you y/n.” he held your hand. “i needed to make sure you were serious. to make sure you were mine and i wouldn’t have to let you go when you sobered up in the morning.” he whispered, looking into your eyes.

you had no words to say, you couldn’t form sentences correctly. so you let acts speak for you; you leaned in and kissed his lips. he kissed back, pulling you closer into him. it was a soft and quick kiss, but to you it had everything. all the love you had been holding for each other, you could sense it.

“y/n, will you let me take care of you the way you take care of me without even realizing it? will you be mine?” he asked when you managed to catch your breath, to which you replied with a peck on his lips, smiling when breaking apart. “is that a good enough answer for you, gentle sexy?”

[takeurexam]

dynasty || 1

genre:

non idol au, time travel, romance, rivals to allies to friends to lovers, crown prince to emperor taehyun, reader gets appointed as an concubine

pairing(s):

taehyun x reader

(warning, this does not reflect the REAL idols personality, and no smut will be written to respect the idol, and i am not comfortable as well, and the taehyun in this ff is not the actual taehyun)

summary:

in which you, an excellent law student about to graduate collage suddenly gets dragged into the past, meeting the famous-fawned over emperor of the kang's dynansty. but you getting dragged into this mess was beyond a mystery, and it seems like you have something deep to discover. meddling with the past is a risky decision after all.

dynasty masterlist

1: Twist of Events

The tapping of your hand eased your anxiety for a bit as you waited for your paper to be examined by your professor. This paper was your key to passing law school and graduating.

You've been through hell and heaven for this. If you dont pass, then your whole career is basically over and you'll become a failure and-

"You passed."

"I PASSED!!!" You shout and jump around happily with your papers in hand as the professor looks at you with a disgusted and tired face.

"Uh.. Congratulations." He sighs and shakes your hand as you shake his hand happily and smile at him widely.

You left the room and shouted happily as the people in the hallways stared at you weirdly, oddly enough, people didnt really care and continued doing what they were doing.

"All my hardwork was worth it. I went through hell and heaven to finish this and become a lawyer. Fuck it, im getting beer." You thought as you grinned and sprinted to a nearby convience store and buy some beer to celebrate at your apartment. (throughout the story, texts in italic are thoughts)

"Why are you buying some beer, maam? If I may ask." The convience store worker asked, you grinned at him and say, "Im graduating, I passed my finals so im finally free from hell. A good sip of beer is like a reward for my hardowork."

"Mhm, I agree." They finish of packing the cans and give it to you, "Well, be careful, its late at night." He winks at you and smirks.

"Gross." You thought and you just smile and laugh awkwardly.

You rushed to get your paper bag and basically sprint away from the store because the cashier was a little weird, okay, not little but weird as hell.

Finally arriving at your appartment, you see the lady who manages and takes care of the building in the main floor.

"Hey kiddo, its late at night, and congrats!" She smiles and you smile back, "Finally someone whos not a weirdo." You think about the cashier and thank the heavens that you're somewhere safe because he mightve been a stalker and followed you.

"Yeah, but it was just for a short time, and thank you! I'll be in my room now." You excuse yourself as you happily jump to your room.

You open your door and set up the table on the floor and pour yourself a drink.

"Cheers to a future lawyer!"

Psst....

"What?"

Pssst!

"Wake the fuck up!"

"WHAT!" You open your eyes as you see your.. mother? And your sister flashing her phone flashlight at you.

They notice you stir and slowly wake up, "Did you pass out on the floor or something? What a mess." Your mother complains as she looks around the room with a concerned face.

"Why are you here?" You manage to mumble out even though your head hurt so badly. "Im hungover.. like hell. And these women are adding to it."

Your sister and mother take their time to look at each other, eyebrows raised and smirking at each other made it clear that they had either terrifying or good intentions.

"So, me and your sister decided were gonna take you out for shopping, make overs, and fix yourself up!" They both squeal and giggle at the same time while jumping around the living room.

"My family might be on drugs.. who are these people?" Your face scrunches up a bit and you pray that you'll come out alive before your graduation.

"Its fine-"

"You have to."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Okay. Got it."

"Mom are you actually serious?" Your mom drags you by the ear as you three stroll through the mall to prepare you for your graduation. Anything to fix your.. style. My sisters words, not mine.

"Yes. Now stop whining like a child and find something to glow yourself up!"

"But im perfectly fine-"

"Yah."

"Okay sorry."

You were silent, well, silenced for now, and you three were at the department store looking for clothes for an 'after party' that was never mentioned until now.

"Hey, you should look for jewelry over there." Your sister points towards a weird looking witchcraft type of place.

"Thats jewelry?" She nods and shrugs, "Check it out, and dont even try escaping. If you're done, meet us at the balcony area, if were not there it means were just a little late."

"Well dang." You look at her and just shrug and walk towards the weird shop to look for jewelry, boredom washes over you and suddlenly a little strolling by yourself wouldnt be too bad.

You push the door as a bell rings on top of you, "Is this some kind of witchery shit? I cant die yet."

"Hello, please take a look around.." An old lady with weird jewelry surrounding her whole body with her cloak and accesories.

"..Okay?" You become a little frantic but you push aside your worries and call yourself out for being judgemental.

"No way. This actually looks cool." You grin as you look around the shelves and cabinets containing crystals, jewelry, paintings, and some other stuff that you know, old people like her use. Sorry.

"Well young lady, found anything yet?" The elder woman asks.

"Not yet."

"Come here."

You raise a brow but still walk closer to her, as a grin forms in her lips as she chuckles and leads you to a couch with her weird witchfraft items displayed all over the place.

"Sit down, young one." You do as she says, and sit down the okay looking couch she has.

"Here." She opens my hands and gives me something, "A silver chopstick?"

"Are you gonna make me do something..?" You look at her perplexed and a little astonished.

"I swear to the heavens above, if I get kidnapped because I accepted a chopstick from a stranger im sprinting out of here. Im too judgemental, but the world is dangerous!"

She smiles and gives you a ribbon to go along with the silver chopstick, "Its on the house. Have a nice day." She creepily smiles as you frantically smile back at her.

"Weird." You mumble under your breath as you sprint out of the shop. "Anyways where to... Oh. I need to go to my mom and sister at the balcony."

You run to the balcony as it was decorated nicely wirh fairy lights, benches and fake grass to match the aesthetic of the area. There was also a swing that was decorated nicely with flowers, but weirdly enough, you were the only one there.

"Are people this busy shopping?" You mumble to yourself as you head to the swing to wait for your sister and mother.

Swinging around, with your phone in hand watching random instagram reels or tikrok videos as you wait for them to finish their glow up shopping spree for you.

You do notice people approaching you but due to the blurred glass, you couldnt see them that much.

Shrugging away the thought and looking away to look at the view was very much a wrong move.

You turn back to the direction where you saw them heading towards you, you see them ganging up on you with their arms crossed and face covered with masks decorated flamboyantly and covered with black cloaks.

"I dont have money." You stare at them in awe as you cross your arms and sigh at them, "Dont mistaken me for being a rich ass lady. Im broke as hell!"

The masked people look at each other and look at you concerned as if you were a patient from a mental hospital.

"Just knock her out, she sounds annoying." One of them says.

"I gladly volenteer." Another one replies.

You get knocked out and darkness surrounds your vision as you hear people screaming as they see you get hit by the masked people.

"She looks like she hasnt had a wink of sleep."

"Speak for yourself."

"You look terrible."

Your vision still engulfed in darkness as you hear two men speaking to each other as you feel the cold breeze and fire sparkling beside you which you found very weird.

Slowly waking up, you sit up and rub your eyes and revealing the two voices you heard while gaining conciousness.

"...YOU WOKE HER UP!"

"NO I DIDNT YOU DID??"

"YOUR VOICE IS TOO LOUD THAT IT CAN WAKE HER UP EVEN WERE WHISPERING TO EACH OTHER."

You look at them with fear and disgust as they both pause as they notice you looking at the two of them weirdly enough.

"Uh.. Hi." You manage to speak out.

"We found you passed out in the middle of the forest, are you okay?" The nearly bald with spikey thorn hair guy says.

"Im Soobin, and he's Hobak." The guy with fluffly hair introduces themselves as you digest this information.

"Im Y/N. Nice to meet you too?" You feel a little more at ease with them as you shift around the bed.

"Hobak says you passed out right? We carried you to my cabin and gave you some herbs to make you stay healthy." Soobin smiles as his dimples show with Hobak running his hands through his spikey hair.

"Well, wherever you live, we brought you here to the North from Daedo." Hobak says.

"...Where?"

"North from Daedo. Me and Soobin were exploring in Daedo but we live here in the north."

You were perplexed as you looked around the room, herbs, silk, jewels, plants and most importantly, paintings of a somewhat familiar historical figures.

"Is that.. the Kang family?" You manage to utter out weakly.

"Yeah, its the Kang Dynasty, whats the matter?"

"Where the hell am I."

★ ✶✮✭✯☆✰⛥╰

next chapter

a/n: so sorry this took like one week to release, i had to do alot of stuff and couldnt finish the chapter because of my schedule. i'll be back ofc to write more of the chapters, and hope you enjoy! make sure to leave a heart!

-isabelle