#it’s past four and i have to wake up in like. three or four hours to go to the dmv and i don’t even know what i’m supposed to bring with me

[yellowbrokenblue]

His favourite employee

CEO!Harry x secretary!Y/N

cw: smut, feral dom!Harry, degradation

It was 11pm. Hours past the time she was supposed to be home already. In a normal life she’d be tucked up in bed, ready to go to sleep. But instead she was here, her laptop open, cramming in as much as she could before she was back in the office at 8am tomorrow morning.

But she had to. She simply had to.

The look on Harry’s face tomorrow when he realises how much work she’d managed to complete would all be worth it, even if it meant doing overtime he wasn’t aware of.

“Y/N?”

Crap. She hadn’t even heard the door open. She’d dismissed the footsteps in the hallway as the buildings janitor, but her boss walking through the door had given her a fright.

“Oh! Uhm… Harry, hi…”

Harry chuckled, “Calm down, Y/N. Don’t look so frightened. It’s only me.”

Only him.

Only him was the understatement of the century. Harry Styles was the pinnacle of man. Gods best creation. You didn’t get any better than Harry Styles, it just wasn’t possible.

“What are you doing in here so late?” She asked him.

“I forgot my apartment key.” Harry said, “But I should be asking you why you’re in here so late, you were supposed to finish three hours ago.”

“I know…” She said, “But I just had so much I wanted to get done.”

“Is that right?” Harry asked, “Hm.”

He put his keys in his pocket, walking over to her desk and taking a seat on the edge of the table.

“You seem to do a lot for me around here, Y/N.” He said, “Isn’t that right?”

“I’m just trying to do my job.” She smiled in return.

“What you do for me, Y/N, is far beyond what I ask of any employee. We both know that.”

The room felt like it was one hundred degrees hotter with him sitting this close to her. Her breathing had gone too fast, and she was sweating buckets. Simply from his presence.

“I just have the companies best interests at heart. I have your best interests at heart.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think that is the only reason, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You think I don’t notice, but I pick up on everything. I know you’re the first one in every morning, patiently waiting with your eyes on the door waiting for me to walk through. You’ll make any excuse to come and see me in my office, and you’ve taken on some of my personal assistant roles just so you can pick out my lunch every afternoon.”

She swallowed.

His eyes were stuck on hers. And she was sure he could tell that her heart was beating out of her chest.

“Of course, I can’t forget the cute little outfits you wear every day, Y/N. Not to mention that you’re always in a skirt.” Harry said, quieter this time, “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I can’t help but assume that is wishful thinking for that to be if something were to happen between us… It would give me…” Harry’s hand reached for the hem of her skirt, his fingers sliding underneath, “Easy access.”

Her breath hitched. Four years working for Harry’s company and he had finally touched her. This was all she’d ever wanted ever since her interview when she was 20 years old.

“Don’t look so nervous, Y/N.” He said, “I know how it feels to lust for someone. To spend every waking moment thinking about their body, to imagine them whenever you’re with someone else, just wishing it was them instead. To picture them when you touch yourself.”

Harry’s hand was sliding further up her thigh underneath her skirt. Her legs were pressed together with as much force as she could muster. Harry couldn’t know how wet she was in this moment, it would be embarrassing.

His thumb grazed the elastic of her panties.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He whispered, sliding off of the desk so he could talk directly into her ear. Her whole body shivered when his lips brushed against the skin of her earlobe, “Who is it you think about when you touch yourself.”

“Harry…” She breathed, “What are you-”

“Answer the question, Y/N.” He said, “You’re always a good, obedient girl when I ask you work related questions during office hours. And I expect the same from you outside of working time, even if we are in the office. Now, I’ll ask you again. Who do you think of when your hands are buried in your wet little pussy.”

She inhaled a sharp breath, not expecting the sudden change of his language. Her heart was racing, and his thumb was itching closer and closer to her desperate cunt.

“You.” She gasped, “You, Harry, I think of you.”

He smirked.

“Have you ever thought of me when you fucked another man?” He asked, “Have you ever said my name when you fucked someone else.”

His thumb brushed over her throbbing clit over the fabric of her panties.

“Oh!” She moaned, as his thumb pressed against her.

“Tell me.” He said again. “Tell me you think of me when you’re with other men.”

“I think of you all the time, Harry. Any time I’m with someone.”

“Do you sit in the office all day, doing the little jobs I give you, just imagining you were in my office instead?” He asked, “Do you ever imagine yourself bent over my desk, Y/N?”

He knelt down in front of her, and began to peel her underwear down her legs.

“I find that so hot, Y/N. The fact you sit and type your emails, just wishing my dick was inside you.”

“Harry…” She breathed, feeling his skin on hers.

“Pull your skirt up.” He said.

She looked at him, not quite believing her eyes. Harry was kneeling in front of her, pulling her soaked panties off her legs, looking like he wants to devour her.

“Who were you emailing?” Harry asked, sliding the panties off her legs completely, before looking back up at her.

“What?”

“Your emails are open on your laptop. Who were you emailing?”

“Just the electrician to fix the lights in the bathroom…” She said. “And then I was going to email the postal compan-”

She was caught by surprise by Harry placing his lips on her thighs, letting out a loud gasp.

He kissed up her thigh, towards her aching core.

“You’re so wet.” He hummed. “Who knew my words could turn someone on so much.”

Her breathing sped up, her hands shaking while they gripped the sides of the chair.

“Show me where you want me, sweet girl.” He said, pulling his head away. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

She shakily took her hand off of the side of the chair, moving it towards her throbbing pussy.

“That’s it, Y/N. Touch yourself where you want me to touch you.”

Her hand traveled towards the heat between her legs. This was embarrassing, she knew that. But at this point she didn’t give a shit, she’d do anything if it meant she could have a small part of Harry as an end result.

Her finger touched her clit gently, resisting a moan.

“Now touch yourself.” He said, “Touch yourself the way you to when you’re lying in bed at night thinking of me.”

That sentence alone made her want to combust. The things this man were doing to her with his just words were insane.

“Do it, Y/N. Do it if you want me.”

She listened. Of course she fucking listened.

She placed two fingers on her throbbing bud and began to move them in slow circles. She’d always start slow, moving her fingers at a steady pace to create intensity, and when she grew hungrier, she’d speed up the pace.

Harry watched her fingers move against her clit, covered in the wetness of her arousal. His dick was rock hard in his pants as she watched her head throw back against the chair with a loud moan.

“That’s it, Y/N.” He said, “Oh, you have no idea how this makes me feel… Watching you jack yourself off like this…”

“Oh! Harry!” She moaned, her hands moving faster.

He was almost drooling watching her. Between her fingers in her pussy, the moans coming from her mouth and that look on her face, he was loosing it all together.

“Stop.” He said bluntly.

Her hands stopped moving, and she looked at him. Nervousness was present all over her features. She went to pull her skirt back down, but she stopped him.

“I think it’s time for you to finish some of these emails, huh?” He smirked.

He teased her while he spoke, running his hand from the bottom of her thigh all the way to half an inch below the ache between her legs.

“And while you get your work done like the good little employee that you are… I’ll sort out your payment.”

His eyes stared hungrily at her dripping pussy.

“And maybe if you finish the email, I’ll let you cum.”

“Harry, please.” She moaned. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“My sweet girl. If you don’t type out that email you won’t be cumming at all. And if you don’t cum then I’m going to get you to sit your cute little ass on that chair and watch me jack off on your desk wishing that my cock was inside you instead of my own hand.” He said, “Now, we don’t want that to happen, do we?”

“No.” She replied.

“No, sir.”

“No, sir.” She corrected herself, swallowing.

Harry’s attention turned back to her pussy, his lips kissing up her thigh.

“The emails, Y/N.” He reminded her.

He slowly heard the keys be pressed on the keyboard, her legs twitching as his mouth moved further and further upwards. However the cry that left this girls mouth as his tongue came in contact with her clit was a sound that would be engrained in his memory for the rest of his life. Fuck porn, all he needed to jack off from now on was the memory of the sound she made as she fell apart at his touch.

“Harry. Fuck.”

His tongue moved in circles on her clit, pressing down hard.

That was until he heard the keys stop moving. So he stopped moving too.

“If you stop, I stop. You know the rules, honey.”

“Harry, please.” She begged, “Need you so bad.”

“I said you know the rules.”

“Please, Sir.”

“Type, Y/N.”

The keys moved on the laptop again. But she wasn’t entirely sure that the words being typed were actually words at all. But as soon as the keys started to move again, Harry kept his word, returning to his own work.

He moved faster, his mouth attacking her sweet pussy at a rate he didn’t think he’d ever went at before. Licking and sucking at her perfect clit while one hand palmed the erection in his pants to try his best to ease some tension.

His tongue moved away from her clit and he replaced it with two fingers, rubbing circles on her swollen bud while his mouth attacked her entrance, fucking her with his tongue.

“Fuck.” She screamed, “Fuck, I’m so close. Please, I need to cum. I’ve finished typing the email. Sir, make me cum, please.”

He kept going. He didn’t give a fuck if she’d finished the email or not at this point. The only thing on this man’s feral mind was to make her cum all over his face. He wanted to taste her sweetness while the sounds of her crying his name filled the office they were in.

When she soon cried out that she was cumming, he made careful care to make sure he was lapping up every sweet juice from her pussy. He was so feral over this woman it was becoming a problem. His dick was so hard he felt like he was going insane.

“You taste so good, my sweet girl.” He said, “Do you know how it makes me feel to hear you scream my name over and over again? Makes me so fucking hard, Y/N.”

He stood up and took her hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants.

“I think it’s time we deal with this, hm?”

She nodded in agreement.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me already, let’s keep this up, okay? You’re going to go into my office, and by the time I get in there I expect you to be stripped and waiting for me, understood?”

She nodded, eyes wide as she looked up at him. However wasted no time going into his private office.

Fucking Harry in his own office had always been a fantasy of hers, and now it was finally coming true.

Harry on the other hand couldn’t think straight. The amount of lust and desire he had in this moment was clouding any thoughts he had apart from how badly he wanted to fuck her right now. When he made his way into his office he was completely stopped in his tracks by her. Her clothes were sprawled over the floor of his workspace, and there she was, leaning against his desk like someone sent from his own personal dream girl wonderland.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He said as he walked over to her, “I have wanted you naked in my office for so long, Y/N. Every time you come into work and let me see these gorgeous tits through one of your revealing little dresses or shirts it makes me so hard.”

He took one of her breasts in his hand, placing his lips against it, while he snaked his other arm around her waist to pull her closer to him.

He sucked several deep marks over both of her breasts, mumbling about how hot she was, and how perfect her tits were.

He began to mindlessly grinned his erection against her while he kissed her naked body, groaning into her skin.

“Harry.” She moaned. “Please. Please fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you, huh? You want my dick?”

She nodded, desperately.

“Turn around and bend over my desk.” Harry demanded, unbuckling his belt, and sliding his pants down his legs.

He watched as she bent over for him, her perfect little ass in the air just for him.

“Oh look at you, Y/N.” He said, “Bent over my desk for me like this. So obedient, hm? An obedient little whore.”

He took his rock hard dick in one hand, pumping it a few times to get himself ready.

She moaned at his words.

“Do you like that, Y/N? When I call you a whore? Are you my little slut, Y/N?”

She moaned, desperate for him.

“Yes, Sir.” She cried, “I’m your whore.”

Without any warning, Harry pushed his dick inside of her, moaning as his cock pushed into her cunt.

She cried his name louder than ever before as he tore her open. He was so fucking big that it was slightly painful, but she didn’t care. It was the best pain she’d ever felt in her life.

“I’ve never fucked anyone as tight as this, Y/N. But I’ll loosen you up in no time with you bent over my desk like this.”

“Harry you’re so big.”

“But you can take it,” He said, “Be a good little slut and take my cock like a good girl.”

He groaned as his cock pushed all the way into her, giving her a few moments to adjust to his size.

“Wanna stay like this forever,” He groaned, “My fat cock buried in your sweet cunt.”

She moaned loudly.

Harry took both of her hands, using one hand to hold her wrists behind her back, his other hand holding onto the desk for extra support.

“I’m gonna start moving now. But you can take it, can’t you? A good fuckin’ slut for me.”

She cried out when his hips started to move, her head falling backwards with her wrists still restrained behind her back.

“Oh you’re so tight, Y/N. Gonna fill your pussy up with cum in no time.” He groaned.

“Oh… God, Oh fuck, yes!” She moaned as the speed of Harry’s hips increased, crashing against her in a desperate, rough manner.

He dropped her wrists, and her hands grabbed onto the desk, and instead grabbed a bundle of her hair, wrapping it around his hand, pulling her head backwards. She cried out with pleasure as he fucked her harder, the whole office filled with nothing but the sound of their skin hitting one another, and their bordering pornographic moans.

“Fuck, Harry.” She cried, “I’m so close.”

His mind was foggy. The only real thing in his mind right now was the feeling of his dick inside her, how he wanted to feel her cum on his cock and how he wanted to fill her pussy up with his release. He was feral for her.

“You make me crazy, Y/N,” He groaned, “‘M gonna fill you up with my cum.”

“Keep going, just like that.” She moaned, “I’m so close.”

He knew as soon as she had reached her orgasm. Y/N cried out with these heavenly moans as her walls clenched around his cock, cumming all over him.

The tightness of her made Harry unable to hold on for much longer, reaching his own release, moaning into her shoulder as his cum dripped down Y/N’s legs, his cock still inside her.

“Harry…” She moaned.

“I know, gorgeous. I know.” He said, “So fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”

He pulled out of her, ignoring the state of mess that the office was now in.

“How am I supposed to go to work normally when I know I’d rather be fucking your pretty little cunt every day, hm?”

[sanakimohara]

Bangchan + Dollhouse by TheWeeknd and Lily-Rose Depp + Yandere 🤭🤭

Like imagine

You wake up in a random persons house, you've been stalked for months, that random person is your stalker. But you can't deny how hot he is. And for a while, he's gentle and makes you fall in love with him, until he introduces you to his friend, Changbin, who you can't deny is almost as hot as Chris, so you talk to him and basically ignore chris. Chris gets jealous and as soon as changbin leaves, he ‘punishes you’ with both rough sex and spanking (i have a spanking kink, spare me pls) and when he's done with everything and you're sleeping, he cries thinking he might of hurt you, you wake up a comfort him with another round. The relationship is messed up, but in front of everyone it's ‘Perfect’ and everyone calls you ‘Barbie and Ken’, but you're more ‘Jocelyn and Tedros’ (the idol ref). You sometimes feel trapped in a ‹Dollhouse› by how you have everything you want, but freedom and being able to talk to without chans supervision.

I know it's probably not your style of writing, but thought I'd request 🤭🤭

[ YOU ] PT.1 B. C.

parking: chan x fem! reader

summary: Stalker AU

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5KyevYvSoqYDrdBqeAvTZO?si=ZgCCA54dQ7ChyVR2Eg381g

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + ANGST + KIDNAPPING + STALKING + STOCKHOLM SYNDROME + CNC + DESCRIPTIONS OF BODILY HARM + MENTIONS OF MURDER + TRAUMA + SMUT

type: full fic / angst / smut / horror…

a/n: not my style?!? Love, this is exactly the type of stuff I enjoy writing the most tbh. Also your request definitely reminded me of “The Idol” and ‘You” so…I made this fic as an overlap between both and I hope you enjoy it! 🖤

One…Two…Three….Four.

One…

Four walls. …

One door….

One. Two. Three. Four.

One….

Four walls and one door.

You’ve counted them over and over.

You sit in drowning silence, repeating the same numbers to resist the panic rising in your chest from their unfamiliarity.

You’ve never seen these four walls before.

You can’t even begin to remember walking through the door.

Let alone recall how you ended up tied to a bed’s iron-wrought headboard with tape plastered across your mouth to keep a wad of cloth shoved between your lips.

So, you resort to counting.

To repeat the pattern of numbers and halt the tears building in your eyes as the world seems smaller and smaller the longer you count them.

It’s strange.

These four walls and one door are your only comfort in the quiet of a dimly lit room.

It’s the only details you can make out through blurred vision, head fogging with illicit fear as you study them for any clue as to why you’ve been chosen to be within them.

It’s irrational.

Illogical.

But it’s the only thing you can think of to do being in a strange room, restrained and gagged without a clue as to who or why you’ve been put there.

You try to remember. Try to run through the possible events in the last twenty-four hours that’d put you in such an uncanny predicament, but nothing alarming crosses your mind.

There is nothing you can pinpoint as a warning sign you could’ve seen before ending up here.

You woke up, dressed, went to work at the record store until evening, closed the shop, grabbed a bite to eat at the cafe down the street, and then…

And then what?…

You couldn’t get past the point in your train of thought.

You remember the moment you stepped out of the cafe's side entry door and into the small alleyway leading straight to your apartment with a strawberry strudel and cold cream latte in one hand and your phone in the other.

You took one step, turning in the opposite direction of the cafe, finger hovering above the “answer’ button as an unknown caller ID flashed across your phone screen. You meant to answer it, wondering if it was the man who’d come into the record shop looking for a Nirvana vinyl and a pleasant conversation.

What was his name again?

Chan?…

Christopher…?

Wait, no…

Chris!

He’d been the kindest and most invested customer you’d ever met since working in the retrofitted store, insisting that you exchange numbers and plan a time to hang out, listen to records, and maybe discuss opinions on certain bands over a bite-to-eat later on.

You found no harm in taking him up on the innocent offer. Giving a good-looking, genuinely sweet, and apparent music lover your number didn’t seem like a bad idea.

You could barely hold the smile creeping onto your face at the thought of getting a call from him so soon, imagining the drawl of his Australian accent carrying through the phone like pure honey.

You hit ‘answer,’ phone raised to your ear as you began to walk down the brick alley, but the moment your lips parted to speak, a particular smell invaded your nose, and the world went black.

No warning.

No indication.

No recollection.

There was nothing you could grasp from the startling incident that gave a clue as to what happened and why.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, and your head began to hurt from the effort it took to sift through the distorted memory.

A solemn huff struggled to get past your lips, muffled by cloth and tape but audible enough to crack the silence in the room.

Your hands, wrists, and arms felt heavier. The rope twisted in and around the joints, pulled tight to wrap through the bed’s iron headboard, which swirled into a whimsical pattern. Your legs were left somewhat free, ankles bound by the same rope, but the knot around them was too tight for you to wriggle your feet free entirely.

Each time you tried to wrestle the restraints, they’d dig into your skin, scratching and pressing until lines of red were left.

You gave up squirming when the pain became too much, having let go of the hope that someone would hear your muted screams just before that.

Your heart rate failed to slow, stuck in a perpetual frantic pace as you resorted to counting and crying to yourself for comfort.

For a sense of security in a situation that couldn’t possibly remain secure.

A shroud of defeat hung above you, blanketing you in exhaustion as the numbers rang through your head again.

One. Two. Three. Four….One.

One. Two. Three. Four-

*snap*

*click*

Your counting abruptly ends when you hear the door lock come to life—a sharp sound that sends rivets of caution through your veins. You watch from the bed as the doorknob twists, turns, and clicks open.

*creak…*

The wood cries quietly as it’s pried open, inching with gentle force as a figure steps through it.

“You’re awake….I’m glad.”

Chris smiles, a warmth to his lowered voice that doesn’t entirely match the tension his presence has created in the stuffy room you’re tied up in.

You stare at him, watery eyes wide with confusion and pure fear.

His smile.

His voice.

Those brown eyes of his that you’d sworn looked so sweet, lighting up with recognition when you showed him the record store's Nirvana section. Now, they terrified you as they grazed along your vulnerable position.

A position he’d put you into.

A position you hadn’t expected him, a man so warm and so down to earth yet new to you, to put you in.

Chris saw the wheels turning in your head, reading the tidbits of betrayal bombarding you as the pieces of the puzzle you’d been trying to put together for hours finally came together.

He felt…guilty, of course.

He hadn’t meant to take you so quickly. Let alone without getting to know your mind a little better, but he needed a new source of purpose…

A new fix for the addiction many were unaware he had developed after years of denying it himself.

He needed a vice, a project, a doll to mold, a person who would depend on him and only him.

You checked all those boxes. He’d made sure of it. Trailing you for weeks after spotting you closing the record shop one evening on your way to the cafe he’d just left only a moment ago.

Getting rid of a body was never easy. It was a tedious task he rarely did without the help of caffeine in any form he could find, but one look at you had his mind wandering from the burden.

It was almost too perfect, in his opinion.

You were almost too perfect.

You remained on his mind for the next few days. You were the only thing he could ponder while tossing bags of muscle into the ocean in the dark hours of the morning. An itch he couldn’t quite scratch away.

So, against the resolve of his last failure to find someone to hold on to, Chris took an interest in you.

In your day-to-day life.

In the few friends and family you had and kept close.

In the days you went to work.

In the time you spent at the cafe after you’d leave the record shop.

In the specific orders you made.

A toasted strawberry strudel and cold cream latte on Mondays and Sundays.

Pumpkin vanilla cappuccino and lemon cake slice on Tuesday and Thursday.

Oh, but his favorite combination you ordered happened every Friday…

A slice of cake with strawberry filling and a cup of ice cream with extra whipped cream on top.

On those days, he’d watch from afar as your cheeks flushed from every bite of cake and cold cream you’d take. Bits of whipped cream swiped off your lips with a quick pass of your tongue. And that slight smile on your face as you enjoyed the treat always warmed his heart a little more each time he saw it.

You lived alone.

All alone.

A sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to but you do.

Chris couldn’t stand it.

Not the way you walked home all alone each night.

Not the way you stayed at the record store later on some nights to finish your manager’s closing tasks whenever he asked you to.

Which was far too many times for Chris’s liking.

Not the way you’d had to shop for yourself. You were buying smaller portions of groceries only to feed yourself.

Not how you helped anyone, even the rudest customers he’d ever seen when stopped by the record store in search of anything but vinyl records.

Not the way you’d crouch down in the alleyway after those interactions to cry into your hands and try to calm down before returning to work with a smile.

He couldn’t stand it.

Any of it.

Weeks of watching you suffer through a life he could make so much better for you made his headache and his mind numb.

Meeting you in the record store was only supposed to be a soft start to a usual routine he’d perfected over time. A quick interaction, something to ease his desire to have you all to himself. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But seeing your smile up close, hearing your soft voice carry under the sound of the 80s best hits as you led him to the section of records he’d asked to see, did something indescribable to him.

He could’ve waited. He could’ve gone on a few dates that he knew you’d gladly go on with him, but a rare impulse toppled over his logic.

You’d be so much happier if he had you.

He knew it.

He believed it.

And sooner or later, you’d believe it, too.

What’s the harm in making sure you’d believe it sooner?

Chris breathed, steadying himself despite the relief he felt seeing you wide awake and safe right where he had left you.

“Listen,…Y/n…” he stepped closer, eyes drifting around your figure when you began to toss and turn against the bed to scoot further away from him.

To keep him away at all costs.

Chris felt his heart drop, his smile gone, watching your teary eyes dart over him and through the room. Your body shook, your legs pulled close to your chest, and your head pressed back into the headboard.

You were terrified.

He terrified you.

That just wouldn’t do, and Chris stifled his inner doubts and regrets about causing you so much confusion and distress to remedy it in any way he could.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d listen to reason and hear him out.

You seemed like the understanding type.

A girl who could see another’s perspective without offering harsh judgment.

Chris was sure of it, though you looked utterly terrified of him now, if he was careful enough…

You’d have no choice but to understand.

“Listen,” he smiled at you, rounding the bed in three swift steps and kneeling at its left edge as you tried to curl closer to the right one.

He sighed, trying not to take your reluctance to be near him to heart, but the silent sobs that barely made it past your gag annoyed him to some degree.

Did you think he’d hurt you?

Him?

The one who’d made it his life’s new purpose to protect you at all costs would plan on hurting you when he’d only just gotten his hands on you?

Chris felt the frown on his lips, unable to retrain his disappointment in your behavior. Still, the disapproving expression he held lasted for less than seconds before he softened into a kinder one.

“Listen… I’m not going to hurt you. I know you must be so scared right now, sweetheart, and that’s fine.”

He straightened up, raising his arms to fold on the bedsheets. His shoulders tightened underneath the black shirt he wore, and he took a deep, elongated breath through his nose.

You watched him, struggling to see him as the same man you’d met in the record store. From the beginning, he’d been a stranger, a new face of kindness that mirrored your own, but now your mind couldn’t fathom what to think of him.

A dryness settled in the back of your throat, adding to your jaw ache and the soreness blooming through each of your tied limbs.

You were in pain.

He was putting you through so much pain, and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

And you still had a little faith in his promise, believing the sick irony of it for the sake of internal hope.

Chris raised his head, strands of blonde hair falling over those eyes you couldn’t help staring into. “You can be afraid of me, baby. I know you are, and that’s fine, but know I’m doing this for you…” He paused, letting a wry laughas his lips pulled into a smile you barely saw when he lowered his head again.

Your nerves vibrated with anxiety, his sudden silence setting you on edge and bringing tears right back to your tired eyes.

Chris looked up, hearing you crying again, brows furrowing with irritation and concern. “Don’t cry.” The command hangs in the air, crisp and direct. You flinch hearing it, put off by the gentle raise of his voice and his abrupt movement to stand up and lean over the bed’s edge.

You shift away from him, holding back the tears that beg to fall from your eyes, fearing that disobeying his demand won’t end well for you.

“Crying won’t change anything for you.” He inches closer, a knee dipping into the mattress as his left-hand reaches to cup your face. You jerk your head back at his touch, ignoring the slight pain hitting it against the headboard causes but failing to avoid his touch when he weaves his fingers through your hair and tugs to hold you in place.

It hurts.

The pressure he inflicts onto your scalp leaves you complacent and strained.

You go still, shivering underneath his looming body heat as he drapes his head over yours.

Blonde locks tickle the bridge of your nose and forehead, shifting as his brows raise and his thickly accented voice pierces the room's defeating silence.

“You’re a smart girl, yeah?..”

You nod in a daze, throat too dry to scream, head too sore to think, and heart racing too fast for you to decide if fear or attraction to him was taking over you.

You hoped it was the latter.

Otherwise, you’d already begun to lose your mind.

Chris smirked, studying the way your pupils dilated on him.

There it is.

The sign he’d been longing to see since he’d walked into the room and found you awake.

A small, familiar, and telling indication of submission.

“Yeah, you are…” he scoffs, eyes drifting to the tape plastered across your face, noting the subtle lines of drool beginning to slip from under it and down your chin.

Your chest heaved as you inhaled a sharp breath through your nose, choking on a sob that dwindled into a whimper for mercy.

For his mercy.

His pity.

Anyway you could get it, use it, and beg for it.

Your desperation.

You wanted him to see it written across your face and in every painful sound you made.

But Chris looked right past it, heard none, and continued leering you into his web of little white lies.

“Then you understand why I’m doing this to you? Why I have to keep you safe like this? Why you have to stay and do as I say?..”

You don’t move. You are not giving him a nod or a flutter of your lashes that’ll resonate in agreement.

Because you disagree.

You’re helpless, scared, and condemned.

But your pride and need for survival hang on by a thread, so you refuse to feed into him more than you have to.

You defy him.

Chris waits. He waits for a moment to see if you’ll give an inch to his established mile, and when you don’t show any sign of doing so, he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“So….that’s how you’re going to be…” he sighs, frowns present as he loosens the hand gripping your hair to trail it down to the nape of your neck. You jolt at the feeling of his large and rough hand meeting your bare skin, applying pressure right below the crown of your head as he holds you still.

“I bet this is hurting you, huh?” Chris hums, a genuine flicker of sympathy flashing across his face as he lifts his free hand to trace over the duct tape plastered across yours. “Why don’t I help you, hm? Get this off your pretty mouth and let you answer me…”

Your eyes widen, and your head tosses in his hold the second his pointer and thumb grasp a corner of the tape and pull it from your skin.

Chris rips the sticky plastic from your face as if it were a simple bandage over a healed wound, and you cringe hard at the ruthless action. A half-formed scream, tears from your still stuffed mouth turning into frantic cries as he forces you to stay still through the searing pain.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” He comments passively, pulling the wad of cloth between your aching lips and tossing it onto the bed with the discarded tape.

You cough, your throat is burning, and your jaw is hurting as you try to grit your teeth and speak to him, but your voice is inaudible.

Stripped away from all the pointless screaming and crying you’d done for god knows how long.

He smiles at your attempt to curse and yell at him, his head shaking mockingly as he passes a thumb over your trembling lips. “Shh shhh shhh…just listen to me, sweetheart,” he coos, and you groan in defeat as he repeats his earlier question.

“You understand why I’m doing this to you, right? That it’s not safe for you out there. Not without me there to help you…say you understand, and I’ll take away the pain you’re feeling right now.”

You stare at him, failing to maintain a glare from the strain your mind and body is in.

It would help your sanity if you said no.

Shake your head and build up the courage and will to fight him with all you have, but numbness drags you into a state of complicit survival.

A need to appease him and hopefully garner some relief from your physical exhaustion.

Your lips part but then snap shut when a sharp ache flares in your jaw.

Chris’s face softens completely when he sees the minuscule instance of pain you’re in. “You don’t have to talk if it hurts. Nod for me instead….just like that,” he soothes you in a hushed tone, smiling as you obediently nod your head.

“Atta’ girl…” he praises, a smile slowly forming again as you whine quietly, shutting your eyes tight, letting the few tears you have left pour down your reddened cheeks.

You can’t speak, and you have no freedom to move or motivation to call for help.

And part of you doesn't want to anymore.

Part of you sees no point in doing so.

What’s the point in fighting him when you can barely speak or move a muscle without strain.

Without feeding into his demented perception of your need for him.

It’s odd—feeling defeated but strangely aware of the caring nature of a man who's forced you into such a miserable state.

Chris breathes a sigh of relief, nose nudging against yours as he hums lowly while breathing you in.

Breathing in your desperation.

Your dependence.

Your fear.

Your innocence.

He takes everything you have to offer him, his mind racing with ways to use it against you…

To help you, his newly shattered doll, piece yourself together again.

The correct way.

His way.

a/n: This’ll be a 4 pt series and my prime event for the spooky season. Btw…fiction is fiction and this fic has pretty extensive and extreme themes in it so please don’t continue to read it if any of the plot/context makes you uncomfortable. I don’t tend to hold back on darker themed fics and this one won’t be any different so please keep that in mind.

other links: n/a (might go up on AO3 later)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

[milo-is-rambling]

Nothing like some light substance abuse to really make you feel like a child again

[fingertipsmp3]

Is anyone else sleeping an abnormal amount at night but still getting tired in the day

[thetriumphantpanda]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus | joel miller

Summary | Your daughter catches you kissing santa... or does she?

Word Count | 1.3K

Warnings | Mentions of traditional Christmas (A tree, gift giving ect), Joel dressed as Santa, Joel being a daddy again, Joel AS A HUSBAND, smut but not super explicit - oral sex (f) and unprotected PiV, just general fluff really.

Authors note | Firstly, I have to give a huge shoutout to @wildemaven - the Dave York piece she posted recently definitely inspired this little Drabble, along with being stuck in a car with my bestie for three hours with the Christmas radio blaring. This is just some sweet Christmas fluff for us all!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

amazing divider by @saradika

The way the snow flurries fall outside are still a wonder to you, even after seven years of winters in Jackson. The warmth you remember from Christmas before the end of the world is a distant memory now, the open windows and the light breeze of December now replaced with the biting cold and the four layers you must wear inside your home to keep as warm as possible. It’s magical though, the way it looks picture perfect, just like the movies you would watch back then. If you could, you’d take a photo of it, use it as the family Christmas card.

Turning around from the window, the room is bathed in the orange glow from the fire you set a few hours earlier. The lamp, on Joel’s side of the couch is also helping, as are the frosty lights wrapped haphazardly around the tree, in making it feel normal. Because really it is. This has been your life for the past five years, putting up a tree, setting small gifts under it like you always had before all of this. The three stockings set above the fireplace, ready to be filled in the next few hours – the precursor of joy the following morning.

Sofia had thankfully gone to bed with little fuss tonight. Finally old enough to understand that the earlier she went to sleep, the earlier she could wake up to find out if Santa had paid her a visit. She hadn’t been planned, but then when were children ever a plan in this new world? You’d been scared, Joel had been terrified, but in the end, she had been the most wonderful thing to happen to the both of you.

You settle on the couch, letting the warmth from the fire soothe the aches that the cold now settles across your bones. You’re almost able to fall asleep, when, with clockwork timing, Joel tears open the front door, a flurry of snow and cold following him in as he closes it behind him. You struggled to stifle a giggle as you turn to look at him.

Dressed head to toe in a Santa costume that is far too big for him, not enough time for the town seamstress to do anything other than pin the sides of the trousers in. The hat on his head is almost covering his eyes, his hand pushing it back to sit properly, as he deposits the sack, once full of tiny gifts but now empty, on the ground. He’s got a fake beard on to cover most of his face so that none of the children that did see him would know it was Joel.

“Wow,” You muse lightly, standing from the couch, “I thought it was customary to wait for everyone to go to sleep before you turned up?”

There’s a slight grumble from under his beard as you step closer to him, watching as he pulls the fake beard down to sit around his neck, his beautiful face finally revealed. You set your back against the closed door, leaning against it, fluttering your eyelashes slightly.

“Did you bring us presents, Santa?” You ask, voice sultry and low.

“Depends,” Joel says, voice just as low, “Have you been a good girl this year?”

That low, southern drawl shoots straight between your legs, thighs rubbing together as you shrug at him, wrinkle your nose a little, “You’d have to ask my husband.”

You watch as he smirks, steps a little closer to you, his gloved hand wrapping around your waist, “What would he say?”

“That I can be a handful,” You bite at your bottom lip, “But ultimately, I always do as I’m told.”

Joel leans down, as slowly as possible, mouth so close you can feel his breath across your lips, your body tugged closely to his own now, “Well then,” He muses, “If you’ve been a good girl, it’s only right you get your gift.”

His mouth is on yours in no time, softly pressed against yours, his hand clutching your body close to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing up on your tiptoes so your mouth is finally flush with his own. You open your mouths at the same time, tongues meeting as Joel groans into your mouth, hands pulled from your body just long enough to tear the gloves off his hands, shoving them straight under the hem of your shirt, resting at your waist to move you gently from the door to the couch.

He sets you down on your back, fumbling his big body to cover yours as those hands of his work to undo your jeans - tearing them down your legs enough so he can put his mouth on you. You feel weirdly like a teenager, fumbling with someone on the couch like this, biting down on your fist in order to keep quiet as Joel’s tongue works across your soaked cunt, drinking you down, tipping you over the edge twice with his mouth - the second, with his fingers buried deep inside you - trying to keep yourself as quiet as you can, you know the other option is waking your daughter and having to spend the rest of the night trying to get her to go back to sleep.

It gets harder to hold that noise in when Joel pulls you onto his lap, trousers pushed down just enough for you to sink down onto his cock, that stupid Santa jacket unbuttoned, pushed off his shoulders, your mouth biting down on his skin as he fucks up into you, his hands gripping the meat of your ass to keep you still.

It’s messy, it lasts probably less than five minutes, Joel spilling himself inside of you, your mouth pulled from his shoulder, bite mark evident as he moves you gently, puts himself right so he can carry you up the stairs, tuck you both into bed, his warm body next to yours as you both drift off to sleep, sated and happy.

Then, the next morning, with Sofia on her knees in front of the tree, you sat on the couch, curled into Joel’s side with a smile on your face at the elation your daughter finds in tearing the paper off her gifts, she says something no-one expects.

“Daddy?” She says, big brown eyes looking up at the two of you.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“Mommy was kissing Santa last night.”

You almost choke on your coffee, spluttering to try and keep your composure, praying to the Almighty that it was just the kissing she saw. Joel though, is cool as a cucumber.

“Is that right?” He asks, looking down at you with a wink.

“Yeah!” Sofia exclaims, “I saw her last night.”

“You were supposed to be in bed.” You chastise her lightly, “What were you doing up?”

“I heard the door open,” She says, so matter-of-factly that it’s like having a conversation with an adult, “I wanted to meet him.”

“Well, you see,” Joel speaks, “Sometimes, to get your presents from Santa, he’s gotta ask for somethin’ in return, all that travellin’ in one night and he sees your pretty mama?” He shakes his head, “I’d ask her for a kiss too.”

She mulls it over a little, small hands holding onto an unopened gift, then clearly accepts the explanation as she tears into the paper.

“Nicely saved,” You whisper into his ear, lips pressing a kiss to the delicate skin behind it, “Christmas is saved.”

“Oh baby,” He whispers back, taking the lull in Sofia’s attention on the two of you to look down at you, “You can’t think you can kiss Santa and get away with it?” His low voice sends a silver down your spine, “You’re gonna have to make up for that later."

[folkloresthings]

Hello darling I have a request from prompt ‘we were supposed to be just friends’. Lando x fem!reader, she work as legal for McLaren, they met at the McLaren technology center, and from the begging they had this special bond. During a party in a disco in uk with his friends, he stay very close to her and try to kiss her. After a sec of confusion, they kissing each other.

❛ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ❜ ❨ lando norris x reader ❩

where lando has loved the mclaren legal officer from the second he set eyes on her and has finally decided to do something about it.

eight months out of university and working in a coffee shop was not exactly how you had pictured your life post-graduation. you had a law degree from one of the best schools in england, but all it was doing was gathering dust on a frame in your living room. nights were spent in front of the television, only half paying attention, with your laptop screen lit up with job postings. it was like the four years of knowledge was itching to be used, instead of idle hands pouring overpriced iced lattes.

admittedly, you didn't remember applying for the job at mclaren. you were so desperate that you had sent your resume to every posting you could find, barely sparing a second glance at the job summary. it was only when they emailed with an interview date did you do your research. they were a formula one team, and a pretty good one at that. the sport had never much been your thing so you hadn't a clue what kind of work you'd be doing.

but it was work. legal work.

the interview went smoothly, then the second, and the third. they seemed to love you and your education. thankfully the internships you had done during university made up for your lack of experience. they hired you and had you come up to headquarters the next day. the drive from london to woking was full of jitters, turning your radio up to block out the nervous thoughts.

"ah, y/n! welcome to the mclaren technology centre." zak brown was the one to greet you by the front desk, with a smile and a firm handshake. you had spoken during your last interview, the final hurdle with the boss, and thankfully you got along fine. despite your age and greenness in the legal world, zak admitted he saw potential in you. they had gone through six other employees in the past two years for this position, all much older and more experienced. they needed a change.

"this is where you'll be working when you're in-office," zak explained, leading the way through a tour of the centre. it was much bigger than you expected, so modern and open. yeah, you could picture yourself here. "we usually would have you here one or two days a week, the others you can work from home. is that okay?"

"that's perfect," you agree, nodding happily. "i live in london, so the drive is only about an hour."

zak grins, continuing the tour and filling each space with small talk; your education, upbringing, hobbies. he only laughed when you sheepishly told him you knew very little about formula one, and didn't have a huge interest in the sport.

"you'd be surprised how many people here don't watch it," he chuckled, his american accent strange in the midst of the english countryside. "ah, speaking of. boys!"

in the foyer, at the end of the hall, two heads whip around at zak's call. both in the mclaren colours, one was thinner and smiling crookedly. the other, well. he was...

"lando, oscar, i want you to meet y/n. she's our new internal legal officer," zak explained. "meaning if you fuck up in any way, she'll have to deal with it."

the three men laugh, bringing your own bashful smile to wake.

"hi, i'm oscar," the thinner boy speaks in a soft australian accent, shaking your hand. "but it's lando here that you'll have to keep an eye on. i'm always on my best behaviour."

lando. he'd been staring at you since zak dragged you over to them, barely blinking despite for the odd laugh. he blushes then, gently nudging oscar with his elbow. he meets your eyes and his mouth goes dry, lips parting like a fish out of water as he tries desperately to think of something witty to say.

"don't worry, if you don't do anything wrong then i won't have anything to do," you jest, breaking the silence. a grin pulls at your mouth with the words, soon mirrored by the two drivers.

"i think i'd rather you didn't, then," zak scoffs, patting your shoulder. "go get settled, i'll come check on you in a while. boys, we've got that meeting in ten — c'mon."

smiling gratefully, you nod towards zak as he leaves — a silent thank you for his hospitality. oscar waves shyly, turning on his heel to hurry after his boss. lando follows suit, just about pulling his eyes from you, but only makes it a few steps before he's turning back.

"it was, uh, nice to meet you," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "hopefully i'll see you around."

biting at your cheek, holding back a small laugh, you nod. "hopefully."

lando finds himself grinning, walking a few yards backwards just to spare another minute looking at you. oscar calls for him and forces the teammate to hurry, shoes scuffing against polished tile as he catches up.

"stare much?" oscar asks him once they're side by side, a knowing smirk twisting upward.

"shut up," lando mumbles, but his own smile flickers. "she's pretty."

after that day, lando and you became close friends. he would sneak upstairs from briefings to bring you a coffee ("extra caramel, of course") and hide out in your office. he would vent to you about changes zak was, or wasn't, making with the car. you would confide in his about particularly stressful cases you would get handed. on days you weren't in the office, lando would text you pictures of him and oscar bored in meetings.

but the worst was race weekends. very rarely did you go along with the rest of the team, as there was little need for you there. if something went wrong, you could fix it from your desk in england. lando sent you updates from each city, everything from the track to sightseeings. you would often reply with a picture of your rainy window in central london and a sad face. and each sunday, you would sit up and watch the race with your fingers crossed. no matter the time, you were there. and when a race went particularly bad, you would wait up for the phone call from lando, needing a shoulder to lean on.

the staff at mclaren began saying you two were joined at the hip, partners in crime, so often not seen without the other. the best of friends.

"hey," lando chirped, knuckles rapping on your office door one friday morning. he had two coffees in his hand, as usual, perching both them and himself on top of your desk. "you going to the office party tonight?"

"open bar, free cocktails, seeing mark from marketing drunk?" you hummed thoughtfully, sipping at the hot drink. "you bet i am."

lando laughs, head thrown back slightly. the knowledge that you'll be there relaxes him, actually letting him look forward to the mandatory night out. "okay, good. i'll see you then."

"see you tonight," you call after him, watching until he disappears around the nearest corner. luckily, zak lets everyone go an hour early in account for the party starting at eight. you hurry home, sorting through every outfit option and getting ready as quickly as you can. the club was on the other side of london, at least forty minutes on the train, hence your rushing out the door with only one heel buckled.

inside of the club, completely booked out by zak for the company's pleasure, you realised just how many people worked in the world that was mclaren. legal was such a small part of it, a tiny cog in the whole machine. it was quite overwhelming, if it wasn't for the fact that you knew so many of the faces.

"y/n, hey!" the familiar sydney accent pulls your eyes to the nearby bar. oscar waves you over, smiling as you weave your way into a hug. "this is lily, my girlfriend."

you recognised the girl from pictures, but she was even prettier in real life. you exchange bright hello's, hugging in greeting while oscar orders you both some drinks.

"it's so nice to finally meet you!" lily beams, tucking her hair behind her ears. "i've heard so much."

curiosity peaks you, head tilted ever so slightly. "you have?"

"yeah, of course. lando is always—"

her words are cut short by a wide-eyed oscar, shoving in between you both to give you your drinks. "ha, hey! let's go sit, hm?"

your brows furrow, only more confused when lily shoots you an apologetic look. she takes your hand to lead you through the crowd to a booth at the other wall. amongst a few individuals you vaguely recognise, lando sits sipping a beer. he looks up when he hears oscar greet them, but his eyes instantly shoot to you.

"jesus," he mutters, quiet enough that only max next to him hears. you look absolutely stunning, your figure newly shown off by the little dress you have on. it falls to about mid-thigh, the rest of your legs accentuated by the heels you had on. your hair and makeup has been done a bit more than it would for work, and the sight has lando's stomach churning.

you squeeze in next to lily, across the table from lando. he can't tear his eyes away from you, even when max tries to strike up conversation. all you're doing is talking to lily, leaning over into each other to hear properly, face lighting up every so often with a laugh.

"so, that's who's had you so distracted recently?" max eventually catches lando's attention, watching his best friend's eyes widen. "she's pretty."

pretty? lando though. she was gorgeous.

"we're just friends," lando explains, shaking his head.

"bro, you've been staring at her like she's the only person in the room for the last twenty minutes," max laughs airily, nudging him. lando scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny the fact. after another moment, you catch his gaze and smile softly. lando blushes, lifting his hand to wave slightly.

"okay, let's dance! this is my favourite song," max suddenly exclaims, standing up with a slap to the tabletop. a few follow suit, and you turn to lily with raised brows.

"oh, no," she shakes her head with a giggle. "i need at least two more of these drinks before you get me up there."

"well, drink up. i'll save you a dance."

smiling sweetly, you slip off of the seat to give her attention back to oscar. lando stands at the same time, smiling playfully when he looks at you. a hand of his stretches out and you can't even fathom denying it, slipping palm to palm and letting him drag you to the middle of the dance floor.

the song is drake or the weekend, something you don't really know, but the beat is so loud that you can feel it in the floor beneath you. falling into a rhythm, you giggle as lando begins moving with you. he sings along, but you don't recognise the lyrics, only the movement of his lips as his eyes shut. your chest thumps in time with the music, the heat of the people around you creeping onto your bare skin. the music mixes, changing into a melody you instantly know.

"i love this song!" you squeal, grasping lando's arms to shake them in excitement. he chuckles, watching on in admiration as you begin dancing again, reciting every single word to abba's lay all your love on me. your hands sneak down from his arms to his hands, forcing him to move along with you. he spins you around again and again just to watch your hair and dress float around you like magic, the lights of the club basking you in a heavenly hue.

somewhere in the midst of the second verse and chorus, lando feels his judgement cloud. he'd like to blame it on the beer, but he had only drank one, and he knew it was that usual intoxicating presence you carried around everywhere. your lips mould around each lyric, having listened to the song so many times (and your endless summer rewatches of mamma mia, as you once told him) that it was engraved on your memory. you looked perfect, the same as every day he snuck glances at you in the office or scrolled through your instagram late at night when he couldn't sleep for thinking about you.

you were it, for him. everything he loved and dreamed of, the only thing that had kept his feet on the ground this past season. and here you were, chest pressed to his thanks to the swarm of drunken guests, so close that he could smell your perfume and the shampoo from your hair. you had used a darker lipstick tonight, he noticed, unlike the usual clear balm you wore at work. it made you lips look even more soft than they normally do - he knew, because he spent a hefty chunk of his day staring at them.

abba fades out, along with the loud and out of tune singing filling the club, and all lando can think about is kissing you. it wouldn't be fair, for such pretty lips to go unkissed. and it wouldn't be fair on him, who has spent hours on end imagining how kissing you might feel, to let such an opportunity slip away from him.

so, he's tightening the hands that are already on your waist to pull you even closer, until there's not an inch of space left between you. his lips around rough, unmoving as they press against yours, eyes screwed shut and cursing the long seconds as he waits for your mouth to respond. eventually, he peeks through hesitant eyes to meet your surprise. your lips, colour smudged a little now from the contact, are parted and your eyes are wide. he can't discern what you're thinking, but he would bet it wasn't pure elation.

blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer.

his mouth opens just as all of his senses wire back in again, the end notes of the song just ringing out when he begins making his excuse. but your surprise and panic fills you so much that you can't breathe here, not with so many people around and lando's body heat still so close. stumbling, you push past him and everyone else that you meet to escape the busyness. the neon exit sign beckons you to the fire door, gasping when it opens and the fresh night air hits you.

thankfully, there isn't a soul to watch you and your flushed cheeks struggling for breath, and you wait until you hear the door shut behind you to fully relax again, frankly not caring if you lock yourself out. but the click of the lock doesn't come, only a familiar sound that crumbles you again.

"y/n—"

lando stands helpless in the doorway, eyes pleading for forgiveness when you turn to him. your head shakes, searching for something to say.

"i... you, what—” you struggle to grasp the right words, eyes squeezing shut. "i thought we were just friends?"

"we were! we are," lando corrects you quickly, striding towards you. "but that doesn't change the fact that i—"

"lan, please don't."

"— love you, y/n. i've been in love with you since your first day at work. how couldn't i be?"

his voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before, urging guilt into your throat until you have to swallow it back down. you make yourself look down at the ground, your heels and his sneakers facing each other, because you know you'll fall apart once you see those damned brown eyes.

"lando..." you murmur through a sigh.

"don't you feel it too?" he asks, desperately grabbing at your clammy hands. "us, me and you. it's right there."

you cave then, heart taking over from your mind, chin raised to look at him. lips turn into a frown, searching his lovelorn eyes for the moment he'll laugh and tell you its all a big joke. because he's lando, and you're just you.

"tell me that you don't, that there's nothing here," lando mumbles lower, gripping your fingers for dear life. "tell me this isn't real and i'll walk away. but — but i can't leave you if there's a chance."

your lips part with a breath, lips dry, and your sense screams at you to tell him no. that it'll never work, it's impossible. but something tugs in your chest and you realise something you had never wanted to admit to yourself: you loved lando norris.

"it'll be too complicated." you settle for excuses instead, chewing the inside of your cheek, wincing when you nick the flesh. "we have to work together, so if something happens then it'll mess everything up."

lando steadies your shaking head with his hands, one on each cheek, staring deep into your eyes. "what are you so scared of?"

you swallow, shoulders raising with each shallow breath. "i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend, the only person i can talk to. i don't want to mess that up."

your confession melts his heart, affection bringing his thumbs to graze across your cheeks. "i won't let that happen," lando promises, tongue sincere as can be.

you wait a moment, scouring his features before the trust solidifies. gently, tentatively, you search for the taste you barely got inside of the club, lips ghosting together. strawberry and beer mix on your tongues, hands wandering over body heat and mouths hungrily moving together like two teenagers in a back alley. only when breathless does lando fall from your lips, hands still steady on the round hips of your dress, keeping you close.

"i'll always be your best friend," he whispers like an oath, a boyish smile tugging at the corner of his swollen and lipstick-covered mouth. "but can we be best friends who do that, like, a lot?"

writer's note: wrote this in one sitting and may have gotten carried away but pls enjoy <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Loss

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You lose

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

You wanted to take all your gloves and throw them into the fire and just watch them burn.

What use is a keeper that can't stop goals anyway?

Three goals went passed you today. Four if you count the one that was ruled offside.

Three balls shot passed you in the semifinal of the FA Cup. Arsenal would not be going to the final.

Faith had been put on you to carry the team through but you had fallen at the first hurdle.

A shot fired at you from point blank range in the first five minutes.

It skimmed your gloves and buried itself into your net.

The second came from a corner. A header that went just past your outstretched fingertips.

The third was during the second half. A cross into your box and a shot that zoomed past your body.

The fourth goal, the one called offside, had been whipped in just in front of you after you came out of your goal to collect.

It was a shocking performance from you and you fell face forward onto your bed to scream into your pillow.

Your phone keeps ringing and you know who it is.

You ignore it, turning your head so you can stare at your bedside table.

You watch your phone ring over and over again. The screen lights up and then goes dark again. It repeats again and again but all you can do is stare.

You don't want to think about the match. You want to crawl under your sheets and just die.

You've got to go out to get groceries tomorrow. You don't know how you're going to show your face in public.

Your performance was so embarrassing.

Your coach shouldn't have thought that putting an eighteen year old as keeper was a good idea. His faith in your ability was unfounded and you wonder briefly if it's too late to go back to school for something other than football.

You didn't think you needed a backup option. Football was everything to you. Football was your whole life.

You don't know what you're going to do without football.

Your phone rings again and you flip it over so you can't see the screen anymore.

Rocky looks back at you from his spot on your bedside table.

"Don't," You say to him," Don't look at me like that."

His blank googly eyes stare back at you.

"Stop it."

He keeps staring.

Your hand closes around him and your arm rears back in anger.

Rocky collides with your bedroom wall, clattering to the floor.

You scream into your pillow, forcing yourself not to cry.

You know everyone is going to be talking about your bad performance today. You knew you single-handedly sunk Arsenal's dream of the FA Cup this year.

Your phone rings again and again and you wish you had turned off your sound.

You never realised how annoying your ringtone was. If you remember when you wake up tomorrow, you'll have to change it.

The stupid jingle runs through your ears like how those goals run through your mind.

"I don't want to talk," You say when you finally gain the courage to answer your phone after watching it ring for at least an hour.

"Princesse-"

"No," You cut her off firmly," I don't want to talk. Stop calling me."

"No," Momma says," I watched the match-"

"I don't want to talk!" You insist," Why can't you leave me alone?!"

"Princ-"

"Stop it!" You say, tears running down your cheeks," Just stop!"

"It's not the end of the world." That's Morsa now.

"You weren't there! You don't know!"

"You think I haven't lost matches?" Comes Morsa's dry voice," I know all about losing, princesse. It's one match out of countless others. You'll get them next year."

"I don't want to get them next year!" You spit back," I wanted to get them this year!

"And that didn't work out," Momma says to you gently," And that's okay."

A sob rips through your throat. "Momma, I played so badly."

"You're still young," Momma says," You're never going to have a perfect game all season. It was unfortunate that it was today but it is what it is. You'll spend the weekend sulking about it but you'll improve yourself. You'll get better next time."

You crouch on your bedroom floor, picking up Rocky and wiping off the dirt from him.

One of his googly eyes has fallen off so you stick it back on.

"It's not just your fault," Morsa says," You're in a team sport, princesse. The blame never falls on one person's shoulders. You're still young. You've proven yourself to your team. One bad match doesn't ruin everything. You'll improve."

You wipe away your tears, clenching your fist around Rocky. "Really?"

"Of course. You're going to be great one day but you need to stumble a bit first. Learn from your mistakes and you'll get them next time."

You sniffle. "Thanks."

"Good girl," Momma says," Now, I want you to order food tonight, alright? You had a hard day. Treat yourself."

"I will."

"We love you."

"Love you too."

You look down at the rock in your hand and wince. "Sorry I threw you, Rocky. It won't happen again."

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 5

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Johnny recovers slowly.

-

Fifteen minutes? Simon messages you. A flare going up in the darkness, an SOS signal even if you don’t know the accuracy of the analogy. But he doesn’t hear back from you that day.  Maybe what little luck he had left that wasn’t bad luck has run out. Maybe you realized that you had no real reason to be guilty, that Soap had stepped out in front of your car on purpose. You didn’t owe them anything. 

Simon wishes he could swallow that flare back up, eat it whole, let it burn him alive, but he can’t. Johnny needs him. 

Ever since the seizure, it’s been one bad pain day after another. The seizure itself was rough on his body, but so was how hard Soap fought afterwards, dealing himself damage that he didn’t even have the processing yet to tally up. 

Like clockwork he’s requiring those little green pills, choking them down on empty stomachs. Simon even has to break out what’s left of the sublingual morphine which they hadn’t used since Johnny first came home from inpatient rehabilitation. Only then will Johnny manage to fall into fitful sleeps wracked with nightmares and phantom pains from his missing arm. He cancels all therapy that week, hoping Johnny will return to his baseline soon. Hoping for the days he used to wish away. 

It’s hell on earth. Simon lays in bed beside him, ready to wake him from another nightmare, going on three days without sleep and he wishes that he had been the one in the helicopter instead. Wishes that it had killed him, since he can’t ever wish death on Johnny. Not ever. Not even when his boy begs for it. 

His phone buzzes, and it’s you: I’m free in twenty. Still need me?

Badly. Simon can’t remember the last time he showered. All he wants is fifteen minutes to scrub himself clean and feel human again. All he says though is: Yeah.

You appear just past twenty minutes later wearing a diner uniform. It’s cute: tight pants that hug your thighs and hips, a white button-down blouse tucked in, demarcation where your name tag used to rest.

Simon opens the door and ushers you in, somber-faced, like a pallbearer at a funeral. He goes to the bedroom door and glances in to make sure Johnny is out—there should be no waking him for the next two hours, but if there is one thing Simon has learned, it’s that God Laughs. 

“He asleep?” you whisper, lingering a healthy distance away. 

“Out like a light. I just need fifteen minutes in the shower.”

“I’ll watch him,” you whisper. Then you add: “I looked it up, by the way. What a seizure looks like. Just in case.”

Simon’s stomach drops between his knees. It takes him several heartbeats to realize that he isn’t nauseous out of any fear response, but out of sheer fucking gratitude. The feeling cuts through the fog in his mind like a knife through butter, and he feels like he sees you for the first time: your hair back away from your face, your healing bruises (and the new one on your chin), the embarrassed desperation in your eyes. You’ve latched on to Johnny too, he can tell, likely by some misguided guilt from almost hitting him with your car. But it’s there. He has a feeling that if Johnny were to take a dive off the balcony, he’d be taking you with him. 

You are completely unhinged. Borderline mad, even. Exactly what Johnny needs to keep him alive. 

“Fifteen minutes,” says Simon again before slipping into the bathroom, clean clothes tucked under his arm. When he resurfaces, only 11 minutes have passed. The military taught him everything he could need to know about thorough but expeditious showers. 

You are sitting at the dining table, having chosen the seat that gives you the best vantage point of Johnny’s sleeping figure in the next room through the doorway. Simon expected to find you on your phone, scrolling away, but it is nowhere in sight. You have sat perfectly still, watching Johnny. It would almost be eerie if he didn’t appreciate it so goddamn much. 

“We need to talk about this arrangement,” you say, clasping your hands together. You’re shaking. 

“You want out.” 

“What? No!” You both glance toward the bedroom, but Johnny snores on, in the throes of morphine-fueled dreams. When you speak again, it is quieter: “I don’t mind helping, but I can only check my phone at certain times of the day.”

This is the part where Simon asks why. But the question sticks to the back of his tongue like something unsavory. A more important question: can he afford to care why beyond what it means for him and for Johnny? The bottom line is that there will be long stretches of time where you’re unavailable. He can live with that. He’s been living with it, hasn’t he? 

“I’ll only ever need you when he’s asleep. If he knew I was letting you watch over him, he’d blow his top. I mean that literally.” Simon stands. “You want tea?”

“Tea?” You blink at him like the word does not compute. “Yes, please. Thank you, I mean.” 

“Just tea, don’t get worked up over it,” he mutters, going to put the kettle on. He needs a minute to fucking think. 

This goes against everything he was ever taught. The foundation of his personality is self-reliance, and it has been since he was a boy, since he learned that he couldn’t rely on adults for anything resembling stability. Asking for help feels like tossing up the white flag, like admitting he’s in too deep and he can’t take it anymore. It feels like failing Johnny. 

But there’s construction going on inside him. Those pillars of his personality are being torn down, and in their place something more important is being formed: a shrine to the only person who’s ever loved him that wasn’t his mother. If it’s good for Johnny, Simon must do it, even if it feels strange, even if it goes against all the strategies that have kept him alive in the past. 

When he brings tea back to the table, you try to drink it right away, scalding your tongue. 

“Slow,” Simon says. He didn’t even get the chance to offer you any milk or sugar. 

Face warm as the tea, you drink slower, tongue likely numb. The silence between you grows, adds up, and he catches you more than once looking toward the digital clock inlaid on the stove, like you are nervous and counting down the moments until you can escape. Like Simon frightens you. Fifteen minutes pass and more. You drain your cup. 

“I should go,” you say at length.

“Alright.”

“Thank you for the tea.” 

“Don’t thank me.”

You just nod and slip out of the apartment, quietly shutting the door behind you. Simon sits there for a long time after you’re gone, thinking over the arrangement. Thinking over you. 

You’re in trouble. He just can’t decide if he can afford to take on any more trouble right now. 

His tea has cooled by the time Johnny stirs in the other room, calling out for more pills. 

-

It does get easier. Tooth and nail they fight for every peaceful moment until they are able to string two of those moments together, and then two becomes three. Johnny is back to his old self—often angry, still pained, but with glimmers of the man Simon used to know shining beneath it all like diamonds under dirt. 

Therapy starts again, and so do Johnny’s tasks. 

The tasks aren’t therapy. They’re Johnny’s idea: each few days he picks a task that he used to be able to do before the accident and commits himself to relearning it. 

Today that tasks is unlocking the front door. He stands with his forehead against the oak, knowing Simon is somewhere on the other side, having heard him turn the deadbolt. 

The door has three locks. There is the handle which is the only one the apartment building originally supplied them with. There is the sliding lock, which Simon had installed on day two in the new apartment. It is only ever locked at night when both of them are home, and it is easy enough for Johnny to guide the wide end into the slot. Then there is the deadbolt, also installed by Simon, and easily the trickiest lock of all. Usually it requires the strength of two hands to unlock comfortably—but Soap’s down a hand and short on patience. 

“Jesus, get me in this apartment. Amen,” he mutters.

The key shakes in his hand as he guides it to the lock. It takes some fumbling, but he gets it after just a few moments. Then he must twist while pulling outward at the same time. It uses muscles in his arms that have grown weak with disuse. The key catches for a moment but then slides out of the lock uselessly. He pulled too hard; he did not twist hard enough. 

It’s a delicate balance, one he had perfected without even trying months ago when they moved in. Now it seems like a cruel and unusual punishment. If he can’t get this fucking door open, he’ll sleep out here, undeserving of his own bed. In his mind, the voice of encouragement does not sound so much like the calm soothing tones of Andy—his physical rehabilitation therapist—but instead the borderline abusive dialect of his superiors during his time in the military, the ones who had only ever cared about results and not much about the bodies getting those results. 

Footsteps come from the open elevator, and Johnny casts an irritated glance only to see that it is you. You are dressed for exercise, clingy clothes with running shoes and a baggy top thrown on over everything, drooping off of one of your shoulders. At the sight of you, Johnny remembers the lengths you went to to help him light his cigarette and his heart throbs with fondness, some of his anger evaporating like fog burnt off by the morning sun. 

“Afternoon, lass.” 

“Hi, Johnny,” you murmur, voice near a whisper as you cast a glance toward your own door. Maybe you are thinking about running from him. “Are you having trouble?” 

Johnny’s good mood dissipates. “No,” he lies. “Yes. I don’t fucking know.” 

“Can I help?”

“No,” he snaps. “I have to do this myself.”

“Where’s Simon?” 

“Inside.” 

“He’s locked you out?”

“Aye.” 

Your face changes. He knows you so little that it takes a moment for him to identify the expression for what it is: apoplectic rage. Your hands have clenched into fists at your sides, brows drawn low over your eyes as you glare a hole through the door. You reach out and take Johnny’s hand. He’s so fucking surprised that he drops the damn key. 

“Johnny,” you say. “You can tell me. Are you in trouble?”

“What sort o’ trouble?” 

“Simon. Is he good to you?” 

“Bastard eats my cereal and leaves the empty box behind, but aye, he’s good to me. Better than good. What’s all this about, hen? Simon locking me out? I only asked him to, that’s all—let’s me practice with the key, so I can open it on my own again,” says Johnny, stroking his thumb along your knuckles. 

You let go of him like you’ve been burned, face mortified. “Oh, God. I’m sorry Johnny. I misunderstood. Let me just—”

You bend down and retrieve the key, handing it to him. You can barely look him in the eye as you mumble a goodbye and rush past him into your own apartment, shutting the door solidly behind you. 

Johnny stares after you for a long moment, key held limply in his hand, mind far from the door. At last, he puts the key back into the lock. 

Twist, pull. 

[livwritesstuff]

thinking about this again so here's a part 2

Eddie wakes up to rain. Heavy rain, the kind that keeps the morning sky dark and bounces loud off the roof and the walls and the windows.

The rain didn't wake Eddie up. What did it was a pair of big, warm arms wrapping around him and pulling him in close.

Steve’s arms.

Objectively, this should be a good thing, and past versions of Eddie (even twenty-four-hours-ago-Eddie) would be goddamn irate with him for feeling anything other than vehemently positive about it.

He’s feeling bothered. He’d gone to sleep last night feeling bothered because Steve had sacked out approximately three seconds after they’d hooked up for the first time, and now he’s being woken up by Steve’s big arms pulling him in close and that has Eddie feeling bothered all over again because this isn’t how he thought this would go at all.

“G’mornin’ Eds,” Steve mumbles, the remnants of sleep in his voice.

And then he has the audacity to press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s bare shoulder.

"Y'know," Steve says, "I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the diner this morning, but…sounds like it’s kinda fuckin’ gross out there. I can make us something if you want.”

Eddie sits up, suddenly feeling like he’s been left outta the loop on some part of this because Steve doesn’t even seem surprised to wake up and find Eddie still in his bed.

If there’s anything Eddie hates more than feeling bothered, it’s feeling like he’s left outta the loop, like there’s a piece of all this that he’s missing.

"Uh, what are we doing here, Steve?" Eddie asks, and he regrets it the second he sees Steve's face turn all hurt and confused.

"I don't —" Steve starts, pushing himself up on his elbow into a half-seated position, "What...what are you talking about?"

And isn't that choice of words just completely ironic?

"Oh, now you're interested in talking? Or are you gonna fall back asleep the second I start to-"

"Wait –" Steve interrupts, his eyebrows furrowed, "Are you all pissed off because I fell asleep?"

"I'm not pissed off," Eddie mutters, fiddling with a loose string on the edge of the sheets.

"What the fuck did you want me to do?" Steve argues, "Break out a deck of cards and suggest a round of poker? It was late! I was tired! I don't know how else to say it, man. You, like — you did a good job. Really had me beat, or whatever."

And, sure, Eddie allows himself to sit with that notion for a second before he shakes his head.

"I needed you to talk to me!” he exclaims, "We fucked, and then you fell asleep, Steve! Like it was just a fuckin' hook-up to you or something."

That confused look is back on Steve's face, but instead of being laced with hurt, this time it's just plain bewildered.

"What — Eddie," he says, "We talked."

Huh?

“Huh?”

“We talked,” Steve repeats, “Before we…you know, and I said that I like you and I said that I’m not really into the casual thing anymore, and you seemed pretty on board with all that, man, I dunno.”

And yeah, sure, Eddie sort of remembers that.

He definitely remembers when Steve pressed him against his closed bedroom door, and maybe he’d also been speaking at the time, but they’d been so close together and Steve had kept doing these little glances down at Eddie’s lips and there’d been this intensity in his eyes and Eddie had been pressed against Steve Harrington’s closed bedroom door.

There hadn’t been a single coherent thought in his brain, obviously, and yes, that included comprehending any of those words Steve might have been speaking so everything that had come out of Eddie’s mouth in response had been yes, yep, uh-huh, you betcha.

Eddie feels heat rising in his cheeks and by the looks of the amused smile making a home on Steve’s face, he’s not blind to what Eddie is currently realizing either.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

"Maybe," Steve allows even as he starts to pull Eddie back into his arms, "Breakfast?"

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday - pu

hhu, vu, pu

part 2

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, etc.

wc: 2766

a/n: tysm to the few ppl who requested this i hope u like it! pls lmk if u want a pt. 2! i decided to go on a diff direction for minghao's for further angst hehe sorry </3

masterlist

jun -

jun's absence was always a source of sadness for you. it was hard to not miss such a special person in your life, especially when his absence was so frequent due to his career.

dating an idol was difficult, but jun always made it worth it. he kept you to himself, always prioritizing you as much as he could. no day would go by in which he didnt contact you one way or another, even if it was just a quick 'i love you.'

these past two weeks had been hectic for him. going back and forth between china and korea, and even japan all at once had him in planes almost constantly. if he wasnt at a concert, he was at a fansign, and if he wasnt at a fansign, he was at some fashion event. there was no rest for a single member of seventeen during times like these. but despite that, life had smiled at jun's exhausted state for once. he had three consecutive days off; with one of them falling on your birthday.

you had insisted that using up his very rare free time on you was unnecessary. that you'd be happy to just have him home as he slept for the entirety of the three days, but he had insisted to spend the day with him. had even convinced you to cancel all other plans you may have originally had for your special day in favor of spending it with him. he had been unable to promise you anything grandiose, cringing at himself when he told you it'd just be a nice day in between the two of you. nothing made you happier than the thought, assuring him it was more than enough.

the day prior to your birthday, he had decided to go stay with his parents. he hadnt seen them in a while, and they were currently staying in jun's home in korea, so it was perfect. he was still a bit exhausted from the previous twelve days in which had received no more than four hours of sleep at a time, but he headed straight to them the moment he landed nonetheless. it was a nice evening he had with them, catching up and being fed home cooked meals by his mom. he went to sleep a bit late, but not until after facetiming you to let you know how excited he was to to spend your birthday with you. it was 1am by then, so technically it had been your birthday already. he let you go at some point, letting you know he'd be in your home by 11am sharp with a gift in hand.

the next day came sooner than expected, with jun groggily waking up, drool on his pillow showing the very deep slumber he had fallen under. he had not slept so well in months, not having allowed himself a healthy eight hours of sleep in a very long time. it was weird, though, he felt way too well rested, more than you'd expect from a regular night of sleep. upon checking the clock he realized why. it was now 2pm .. had he slept a total of twelve hours?! how exhausted had he been? it was now three hours after the time he was supposed to be meeting you. he ran to his phone to check if you'd called, only to find it dead. he had forgotten to charge it before heading to sleep. his exhaustion had truly gotten the best of him last night.

he gave it ten minutes go charge before turning it on, immediately wincing at your ten missed calls and your dejected messages wondering why he was gone, even worrying if anything had happened until finally tracking his location and realizing he had been home the whole time. you did not have his parents' number, so it had been impossible for you to contact him. by the end of the messages you'd informed him that you'd just go for a quick lunch with your friends, letting him know that it was okay if he just stayed home with his parents if he so wished. you'd only hoped he couldve kept you in mind before changing plans.

his day off could not have gotten any worse.

soonyoung -

admittedly, soonyoung could be a bit ... air-headed at times. its not that he didnt think, but more like he acted on impulse rather than logic. this would sometimes lead him to issues in various areas of his life. including your romantic relationship.

you'd been dating soonyoung for a while, already growing used to his silly antics by now. he was a silly boy, who could blame him! you found him endearing more than anything, always making you laugh and find joy in the little things. your relationship had been nothing but fun so far. not only was he entertaining to be around, but he was also a loving boyfriend and practically obsessed with you. he was affectionate to a fault, always doting on you. at some point he became a bit of an annoyance to his members, constantly showing you off to them in your absence. just like with anything else in life, when it came to you, he didnt think much. he just went based on feelings, and his feelings for you were quite strong.

this was why you were confused as to why your boyfriend was absent at this moment. the same boy who could not go five minutes away from you (whenever his job didnt get in the way, of course) without whining, had seemingly forgotten your plans for the day.

soonyoung was supposed to return from japan this morning after two weeks of absence from your shared home. you had told him it was fine if he wanted to rest instead of doing something for your birthday, which coincidentally landed today. a day in with him was more than enough, you'd assured him, but he insisted that all he needed upon his return was a quick nap with you and then he'd be ready to head out for a night out with you. except he never showed up. you waited and waited, receiving no explanation from him. you even called him multiple times, but he mustve kept his phone on airplane mode, as he never responded. you knew how easily distracted he could be, but to straight up forget to come home was too much, even for his standards.

it wasnt until five hours after his supposed arrival that you found out what had happened to him. you received a call from a very exhausted minghao, letting you know that his driver would be dropping off soonyoung at your home shortly. he and the boys had gone for a spontaneous drink after the flight, with chan having lost some sort of bet and having to buy them all drinks as punishment upon arrival. there was no mention of your birthday during the call, making you think that it had even slipped soonyoung's mind to let his members know he had previous plans.

the annoyance you were feeling was the least of your problems at the moment. you'd probably have to deal with a drunk soonyoung as soon as he and minghao arrived, having to put your feelings aside as you took care of him in order to ensure a painless hangover the next morning, yet another day in which he had to work. not only had he forgotten you, but he had prevented you from making any plans to favor spending time with him, time which would now be spent babying him until sleep took over him.

minghao -

the day had started well. you had woken up to a beautiful message from your loving boyfriend, with a few selfies attached as he told you how much he loved you and how badly he wanted to be home with you right now to celebrate your birthday. you felt truly loved upon exiting your room to find a few different bouquets of flowers, all labeled as 'from: xu minghao', your sweet boyfriend who would always give you small showcases of his affection such as this one.

he had left before you were able to wake up, having scheduled as early as 4am. he had a fashion show to attend today, along with many other previous engagements in regards to his idol life. but you were fine with it! he had promised you time and time again that he'd be home on time by 7 or 8-ish in order to have a romantic dinner with you. this had been the birthday celebration you had been looking forward to the most. you had a quick breakfast with a few friends, along with a small brunch with some family, which meant the final and most important part of your day would come last. you were extremely excited. it was a birthday dinner with the love of your life, a luxury you did not often get due to minghao's overly packed schedule.

at 6, you began to get ready, opting for a cute outfit that would have the usually composed salivating over you. at 7, you had all dinner arrangements ready. minghao had asked mingyu to drop off some dishes earlier in the day, claiming he had wanted to cook for you himself but the fashion show would leave him with no time, instead deciding to ask his best friend to do him a solid since he had been off earlier than minghao today. everything was ready by 7:30, so now all you had to do was wait.

you waited until 8, which soon became 9, only to become 10:30 and then 11 in what almost felt like minutes. you knew your boyfriend did not carry his personal phone with him during public schedules, so you didn't bother calling him, instead choosing to confirm his location with his manager, who let you know he had been driven to an after-party at around 8:30, thirty minutes after your established meeting time.

by 11:30 you had already put on your pajamas, dejectedly picking up all the dishes and saving them for another day. you weren't just disappointed, but you were sad too. he had promised you this for days, only to pick an optional schedule over you. this was very unlike him, but you still did not want to give him a pass for his carelessness.

he came back by 12, apologizing as soon as he spotted you waiting for him on the couch, only to be interrupted by you.

"minghao ... what the fuck? you say you'll be here by 8 and just ditch me for a stupid after party? is there any explanation for this or were you just trying to be a dick?", you knew you went too hard too fast, not even letting him finish his apology, but you were mad.

the venom in your voice seemed to irritate him almost immediately, causing a scary side of minghao to come out. he was never mean, per say, but he could be a bit too cold and direct sometimes. he seemed to forget his mistake immediately, instead pining the fault on you.

"y/n, im an idol. this is my job. you know its my dream to get into the fashion field. i need networking to do that. as my partner you have to understand that. its not like i didnt warn you itd be today."

"and i do understand! but all night? you could've told me. you couldve gone back on your word and i wouldve understood, but you-"

"listen. im not gonna have a conversation if you keep yelling. calm down, and when you decide to act like an adult, ill be willing to discuss this with you," it was so easy for him to dismiss you, which shocked you. he was usually so attentive.

"are you .. are you serious? are you drunk?"

"believe it or not, we're not all waiting for this day to put all our own shit aside and celebrate. i cant believe you're not being supportive. you havent even asked me how it went, i-"

"you know what? you're right. im sorry. i hope it went great, minghao. i'm gonna go to sleep now, if you dont mind. goodnight," there was truly no use in arguing. you knew him to be incredibly stubborn, and he was starting to hurt your feelings. so you marched to sleep, deciding to take the guest room instead, slamming the door shut as you finally let yourself cry at your boyfriend's lack of care.

chan -

chan was an exemplary boyfriend. he was, for lack of a better term, down tremendously bad for you. one simple look from you and he was reporting for duty, ready to do whatever you wanted. this behavior manifested in every aspect of your relationship, making him be labeled as a bit of a simp by all your mutual friends. chan did not mind this, however, being insanely into you and willing to go through all lengths to make sure you knew how loved you were by him.

your relationship was very much like a friendship, allowing the two of you to joke around and hang out as friends would, but also having all the special benefits of a committed relationship. you'd show up for each other more than anyone else, making your bond stronger than any other in your respective lives.

you had expected this to be the same case for your birthday. you hadn't mentioned it much, knowing chan was coincidentally busy during that week. you blamed him in no way for his busy schedule, always supporting his passions and even egging him on whenever he wanted to take on even more challenges (although also scolding him whenever he burnt himself out too much). but you were still somehow expected he would at least mention it.

you were surprised to wake up that day - having fallen asleep before chan's arrival home - to no type of reaction from chan. he was already awake, almost ready to leave for yet another busy day of schedules, with no single word mentioning your birthday. you knew he was insanely busy, but not even a quick 'happy birthday'? in the back of your mind you had hoped maybe he would at least bring you flowers or something upon his return the previous night, but he had clearly headed to sleep upon arrival. for someone who was usually a romantic, his lack of reaction surprised you.

deciding not to make a big deal out of it, you didn't say anything, simply bidding him goodbye with a quick kiss and an 'i love you' to match. you had the day off, but no real plans made, so you decided to just mope around the house, maybe schedule a date with one of your friends for the evening. you had kept your schedule open in the off chance than maybe chan wouldve planned a quick little something. you knew you could've just communicated this to your boyfriend, but you had wanted the romantics sue you!

surprisingly, you received a call a few minutes after chan's departure; one from one of your closest mutual friends, one boo seungkwan. it was very likely that he had remembered today's date, very much unlike your boyfriend.

"hi, kwannie," you replied upon answering.

"baby! happy birthday!!! love you!"

you sighed, "thank you, boo. love you too."

"aigoo, something wrong? sad channie can't stay in today?", you could hear and see his pout through the phone.

"no, kwannie. it's nothing. don't worry about it," even if you were slightly annoyed, you didnt want to throw your boyfriend under the bus.

"no! tell me!! you can't be sad on your birthday, cmon!"

"well .. chan kinda, uh, forgot."

"what? did he say anything?"

"nope. just left without saying anything."

"aish, that idiot. don't worry, i'll take care of this, i'll-"

"no, kwan! it's fine. i dont wanna make a big deal out of it. you guys are busy with your comeback. it's okay, i'll get over it."

"but, baby-"

"kwan, really. i'm fine, i swear. have a good day for me, okay? love you."

he humphed, but accepted your response, "fine. you better have fun today too, though, okay? love you."

and that was the end of it. you would now probably spend the next few hours a bit dejected, not looking forward to the inevitable moment in which your boyfriend realized his mistake, knowing you couldn't really be mad at him due to his busy lifestyle, but feeling hurt nonetheless.

[avis-writeshq]

carriage six – spencer reid

summary: Spencer Reid prides himself in his routine. Wake up at half-past six. Leave his apartment at a quarter past seven. Get onto the seven thirty train. Arrive at Quantico at eight forty five. He has a plentiful of reasons as to why he does it; it’s efficient, it gets him to the office early, it works. But the biggest reason is the girl that always sits in the seat a few rows across from him, headphones on and always reading a book. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, rated G for mutual pining and second hand embarrassment. no use of (Y/N).

warnings: fluff, boy band spencer reid (caution, hot!). i tried to write in Spencer’s pov, and with that comes a lot of rambling. i like to think that his mind is running 100 miles an hour, so i tried to write in a style that could implicate that &lt;3

wc: 1.8k

part two: platform ten

Spencer tries not to look so excited when he enters the subway, clad in light grey slacks, a lavender dress shirt, a brown and purple argyle sweater vest and a mauve coloured tie. His signature leather bag is strapped across his chest and he has a light cardigan in his hand; the weather reports said it would be cold today. His head spins with the statistics on the accuracy of meteorology, considering the bright and sunny skies that blessed the citizens of D.C that morning. He’s donning a new haircut today as well. It was a lot shorter than he originally planned to get it, but he likes it. In fact, he likes it a lot, particularly the way it drapes across his forehead and the way it looks messy but still cool. That’s how he would describe it. Cool. He feels cool.

He hasn’t been able to get onto the subway for three days because of a case in Connecticut and his mind wanders. Will there be another case soon? How long would it take? He hopes it would be a local case. He feels guilty thinking that; he shouldn’t be hoping for a case at all. After all, that would only mean someone else has met their untimely death. He shakes his head to dismiss the thoughts. 

He steps onto the train, onto the sixth carriage, and sits on his usual seat. In his mind, it’s the perfect seat. It avoids the sun so he doesn’t need to squint and he doesn’t have to turn the brightness level of his phone all the way up. It’s right next to the door in case he needs to make a quick exit. It’s right next to a handicapped seat, meaning that people tended to avoid it. But the best thing about this seat was the view.

He cringes when he thinks of it. ‘View’ sounds gross. Perverted. ‘View’ is the wrong word to describe it. His favourite thing about this particular seat is the company. Yes, he likes the company, although it technically doesn’t exactly count as company. 

His gaze shifts to his company. Exactly four rows away, her eyes trained on the book in her hands. He recognises it to be ‘Pride and Prejudice’, the limited edition rose gold copy that was released eight months, three weeks and two days ago. He has the same copy sitting on his dresser. 

She looks different today. Granted, it had been three days since he last saw her. He scans her figure to try to place his finger on the difference and he realises. She’s wearing a new lipgloss. Spencer’s cheeks burn when he realises. Why on earth— no, how on earth is he able to tell? He feels himself cringe and he shifts his gaze and scans the rest of carriage in an attempt to busy himself and his mind, but his eyes ultimately fall back on his company.

Spencer can’t seem to take his eyes off of her. What’s she listening to? Where is she up to in her book? Does she like Austen? Has she read any other books by her? What does she think of Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship? So many questions enter his mind and he wishes he had the guts to go over and strike up a conversation. But he’s not like Morgan. He doesn’t have that type of charisma or that type of confidence. If anything, he supposes, he’s self aware. He knows that the moment he starts a conversation, he would start rambling for twenty minutes about the relationship dynamics between the characters and why Austen was so incandescent and exceeded all beliefs as a writer in her world. He’d start to bring in authors like Virginia Woolf and why her admiration towards Jane Austen was warranted. Ultimately, Spencer thinks to himself as his eyes wander back to the girl, he’d scare her off.

He watches as she falters in her movements, her fingers pausing from flipping the page and Spencer frowns. From what he could tell, she was a little bit more than halfway through the book. Maybe up to page 260? But there’s nothing remotely difficult in that part of the book. If anything, that was the most simple and straightforward section of the entire text. And then he realises. His cheeks burn once more and he quickly busies himself with his phone, biting his lip and avoiding her amused gaze. Your amused gaze.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze. You’ve seen him all the time, for the past three years in fact, when you first moved to D.C. He’s cute, really cute, and he’s even cuter when he looks like a deer caught in headlights. You raise a teasing eyebrow his way and you watch as he quickly avoids your gaze, looking into his phone. You can’t the soft laugh that leaves your lips, your fingers tracing against the pages of your book. Maybe you have a little more confidence in yourself than you thought.

***

The next day, Spencer feels a small sense of dread creeping into his heart. He feels embarrassed, so goddamn embarrassed, and he wonders how he could face you. His cheeks are burning and he tugs at his collar. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with a patterned purple tie, along with dark navy coloured pants. He teeters on his feet, waiting with anticipation for the train. The moment he enters the carriage, his eyes fall to the seat you would be seated at, only to see no one at all. He can’t help but frown, a little disappointed but a little relieved. He moves to his usual seat, and lo and behold, he sees you there, one leg crossed over the other and reading a different book. 

He mutters a soft apology as he slides into the seat next to you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Wuthering Heights,” he says, surprising himself.

He watches as you look up from your pages, a small smile on your face. You’re wearing the same lip gloss as yesterday.

“Yeah.” You smile, taking your headphones off and letting them rest around your neck. “You’ve… have you read it before?”

He nods, and he curses himself for looking so eager. “Yes! Um, yes, I’ve read it. It’s really good.”

“Brönte is brilliant,” You respond, sliding a bookmark in between the pages. “I finished Pride and Prejudice last night. Jane Austen is still my favourite.”

You’re baiting him. He knows that. He takes it.

“I saw,” He says quietly, biting his lip. “Not– not in like a stalker way! I just… I just noticed you reading it on the train. Yesterday. I, um, I saw you reading it yesterday.”

He wants to kick himself. His face is flushed and he’s sure that his neck is just as red as his face. His ears are hot and his head spins when he hears you laugh.

“It’s okay. I saw you too.” You offer a smile, your own cheeks warm. “You were reading Edgar Allen Poe a few weeks ago. Is he any good?”

His eyes light up and he tucks an invisible strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a habit of his, since he’s had longer hair almost all of his life. 

“He’s very good,” Spencer insists, pulling the little book out of his satchel. “His works range from short stories to poetry, his most famous works being The Tell-Tale Heart, and Annabel Lee. The former is a short story. It’s a little grim, but he writes in an incredibly eloquent way that presents the narrator’s descent into madness, despite the point of the text being to convince the reader that he isn’t mad. Annabel Lee is a poem about a man obsessed with a woman named Annabel Lee and-“

He purses his lips, realising how much he’s spoken. He coughs into his fist, setting his book down in his lap as he quickly glances at you. 

“…and what?” You prompt, your head tilting the side in curiosity. “Go on, don’t let me stop you. You’re convincing me to actually get the book on his collection of works.”

His head practically snaps to look at you, a look of surprise on his face. He scans your face for any insincerity, from your eyes all the way down to your lips, before clearing his throat. 

“Um… well, uh, in Annabel Lee, the narrator speaks about keeping her in a castle by the sea. It’s a classic case of isolation and some literature analysts even go as far as to say that the narrator was hoping that Annabel would fall in love with him through Stockholm Syndrome but died before the narrator was able to carry out his plan.”

You take in his words, nodding along to his explanation. “You seem to be an expert yourself.”

He laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “No, I uh, I’m not an expert on literature or anything. But I am a doctor.”

“A doctor?” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Like… a medical doctor or…? No offence, but you really don’t look like a medical doctor.”

He laughs again, nodding. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not. I have PhD’s in chemistry, mathematics and physics, as well as BAs in psychology, sociology and philosophy.”

You let out a low whistle. “You a collector or something?”

He blushes, swallowing thickly. “No, I uh… no…?”

“You don’t sound too sure of yourself doctor…” You pause, realising that you really don’t know much about this man. You look up at him expectantly. 

“Reid,” He says quickly, clearing his throat. “Spencer Reid. You, um, you don’t have to call me doctor.”

“Alright then, Spencer.” You smile, and he thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. You introduce yourself and he tells you that you have a pretty name. 

Time passes, and the conversation continues. You could talk for hours with Spencer; about books, movies, anything. He can make anything sound interesting, it’s one of his charms. He smiles a boyish grin as he talks, gesticulating wildly as he rants about his favourite texts and why Austen is a genius. He asks you what you’re listening to and you almost scream at the thought of introducing him to Taylor Swift. 

Before long, the train lurches to a stop at his station and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed. 

“It was nice meeting you. Officially,” He adds, gripping the strap of his leather bag. 

“It was nice to officially meet you too,” You respond, smiling up at him as he gets up from his seat. “Tomorrow?”

His eyes practically light up. “Tomorrow.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

part two: platform ten

[fluentmoviequoter]

I Don't Want Easy

This is a combination of an idea I had and this request!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: When Tim leaves in the middle of the night, you don't know what happened. After you find out you're pregnant a few weeks later, you must decide whether you want to wait for the man who abandoned you or move on.

Warnings: angst, pregnancy (r is pregnant), discussions of divorce, brief mention of fainting and hospitals, mention of cheating, there is a fluffy ending with comfort I promise

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: I feel like this could have been better and longer, so I may continue it later!

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You’re used to being alone when you wake up. Today, though, feels different. The house is silent and there’s no sign of Tim.

Four hours before, Tim moved silently through the shadows of your home to gather his things. His Metro captain texted him an urgent SOS, a signal to go undercover. You know that Tim has been undercover before, but the current case requires a certain disconnection. Tim can’t tell anyone, not even you, his wife, that he is leaving or where he is going. Uttering a single word would jeopardize numerous lives, and despite Tim’s guilt about leaving you, the lingering idea of being the reason for the death of his fellow officers convinces him to stay quiet. Tim kisses your forehead and whispers an apology before he slips out, unsure when, or if, he will see you again.

As you walk through the house later, you notice some of Tim’s essential belongings are gone. There’s no note, no messages, and you feel a deepening sense of dread. Tim has been stressed lately, and you know that he can struggle to deal with his emotions. When you see that Tim’s go bag is gone, you know somehow that Tim is gone, and not just for the day. The sunrise illuminates your home and the absence of your husband… perhaps your new normal.

✯✯✯✯✯

Six weeks later, you’re pacing in your kitchen as Angela ends a phone call.

“Nothing,” she sighs. “No one in the division has heard from him since, uh, since he left you,” she tells you.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly.

“Hey, no matter what happens, you’re not alone, okay?”

Angela pulls you close before hugging you. The timer on your phone chimes a moment later, and Angela nods before leading you back to the bathroom. A pregnancy test lies in wait, and you clutch Angela’s hand in one of yours as you flip it over.

“It’s positive,” you whisper.

“And?” Angela asks.

“I’m really happy, I think. But I also don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t keep waiting for him, Angela.” “He may not be gone, not from you,” Angela soothes. “He’s disappeared suddenly before.”

“For a day, Angela! It’s been a month and a half. Tim isn’t coming back.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

You chew your bottom lip before asking, “Does Wesley know any good divorce lawyers?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Within a week, you have the papers to file for divorce on grounds of abandonment. Your lawyer is confident that if Tim can’t be found by the LAPD, he won’t contest the divorce. You, however, can’t seem to find the courage to sign the papers and return them. After another sleepless night worrying about Tim and what you’ll do without him, you call your lawyer and tell her you’ve changed your mind.

“Keep the papers, okay?” she says. “And if you change your mind and want to file them later, give me a call.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Four months later, your stomach is proudly showing your baby bump. The divorce papers are still sitting on your table, and you look at them every time you walk past them. Rubbing your hand over your growing bump, you wonder what happened to push Tim away so thoroughly and so suddenly. With your due date growing closer and your future on the line, you know that you need to file the papers, but you can’t.

Across town, Tim and three other Metro officers stumble into the station. They’ve been working nonstop, living in violent environments, and moving around so frequently that they often didn’t know where they were when they tried to sleep.

“There’s one more house to purge,” their captain says. “If we can hit it today, you can all go home and sleep easy.”

Tim sighs before leaving the station yet again. The case is closed by the end of the day, but Tim doesn’t know if he should or can go home. You’ve been alone for so long; Tim doesn’t even know if you are still his wife.

After checking into a nearby hotel, Tim gets comfortable for the first time in too long, but his thoughts keep drifting to you and the emptiness beside him.

You wake with a start as glass shatters. The sun is rising, and you rush into your closet to call 911. They promise that an officer is nearby and will arrive to help you soon. With your hands clutched protectively over your stomach, you wait for the familiar sound of sirens. Angela will insist that you stay with her until your house is secure once again. Your thoughts are ripped from Angela and her protectiveness as someone walks into your bedroom.

“LAPD!” an officer yells from the front door.

The man in your room rushes back out, and you hear the following commotion as he’s placed under arrest. Standing shakily, you try to calm down before you exit the closet.

“Bradford,” an officer says when he sees you.

Tim turns, and his shoulders drop, like he’s never been more relieved. When his eyes drop to your bump, however, the tension returns, and his eyes widen. You watch his fast-changing reaction, and when it meets your fear from the break-in and the stress of being pregnant alone, you feel like you may faint. As you extend an arm toward the wall to steady yourself, one of the other officers moves toward you and yells for the paramedics. When they enter, and push Tim back, he can’t look away from you and the small crowd separating him from you. Your hand isn’t visible from his position, but he looks down at his wedding ring and wonders if you still have one on, too.

“How far along are you?” a kind EMT asks.

“Uh, 17 weeks,” you answer.

Tim calculates quickly and realizes that you got pregnant just before he left. Or after. Because you are safe, though you agree to go to the hospital to get checked out, Tim leaves before you do to return to the station. He won’t admit that your reaction to seeing him again drove him away, not to anyone at the station. Your reaction causes him to think that you don’t want him around, and don’t need him, so Tim will stay gone.

“Tim!” Angela calls when he returns.

“Hey, Lopez. I need your help,” he replies.

“I heard the call over the radio. How much do you know?”

“More than I’m supposed to, I’m sure.”

“What are you going to do about it?” “Move out. Permanently.”

“What? Timothy, are you out of your mind? She needs you! She’s been miserable the past four months!” “Because of me! I made her miserable because I didn’t think I had another choice, and I won’t do it again. I have a choice now.”

“Tim, you have to go home and talk to her.”

“She has other people now, Angela.”

Angela stops quickly, and the look in Tim’s eyes saddens her.

“You don’t think you’re the father?”

“It’s been a long time since I left,” Tim says softly.

“She wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I know that. But if she knew that I left her, and left me, too…”

“Go home and talk to her,” Angela demands. She knows the truth and knows that Tim needs to hear it. “Trust me for once.”

When you get back from the hospital, everything is a blur. You’re upset because someone broke into your house, emotional because of the pregnancy hormones, and confused about why Tim was here, acting like an ordinary patrol cop after disappearing for months. Everything hurts, inside and out, yet you don’t know how to deal with it without Tim.

Someone knocks on the door, and you assume one of your neighbors saw the police car drop you off and wants to check on you. You are incredibly wrong; you realize when you open the door and see Tim. He freezes with his hand poised to knock again.

The sight of you causes Tim to panic. He suddenly can’t find the words to say, because none of them seem good enough to explain himself and make you see that he still loves you. His sudden silence reads as disinterest, and his lack of comfort causes your emotional, stressed, confused body to react poorly. Your stomach flips and you leave the door open as you rush inside. Tim watches your face change before you run inside, and he doesn’t hesitate to follow after you.

Tim enters the bathroom beside you and gathers your hair in one of his hands as the other presses against your spine.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I got you. I’m not leaving this time.”

Your breaths grow shallow, and Tim pulls you close until you have both calmed down. Once your breaths begin to match his, Tim moves to see your face, and you ask him to take you to the kitchen for water. He agrees and keeps both hands on you as he helps you stand and leads you through your once-shared house. As you prepare a glass of ice water, Tim notices the papers on your table. He reads the names at the top and hates himself for waiting so long to try to talk to you; he should have come straight home and shown you what you mean to him.

“Do you- do you want me to sign these?” Tim asks as he raises the petition.

When you see him holding divorce papers, and offering to sign them because he thinks that you want him to, tears blur your eyes, and your water falls to the floor. Ice cubes and water spill across the kitchen floor, and you sink to your knees in the puddle to gather the broken pieces. It’s symbolic, and your tears multiply as you realize that your life is similarly spilled and broken.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim calls as he enters. “Don’t.”

He lowers his hands to help you up, but you don’t move. Tim sits in the water beside you and waits for you to come to him. The moment your head hits his chest, your tears slow. Months without Tim didn’t change anything, you realize; nothing important, because he can still comfort you with a touch and cares about you and your safety.

“What are you doing here?” you ask against his shirt.

Tim sighs before telling you about the case. He doesn’t leave anything out, because you deserve the truth, but he doesn’t complain when you cling to him during his account of the most dangerous moments. He came home, and that’s what matters now, but you have something to explain to him, too.

“I didn’t sign the papers,” you admit. “Couldn’t. When I found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want to do it alone, but I couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone but you. Tim, you could’ve come home the moment you returned.”

“No one would have blamed you for leaving. Anticipating it was better than being blindsided by it.”

“So, what now?” you ask.

Tim kisses your cheek, and you turn to look at him before giving him a proper welcome-home kiss.

“Now,” he says against your lips. He pulls back and continues, “Now, we start where we left off, and I do what I should have done four months ago.”

“What’s that?”

“Not leave. You, both of you, are never going to be alone again. I promise.”

You nod and move your hands over his shoulders to pull yourself closer. Your bump gets in the way, and Tim chuckles before murmuring that he’ll have to get used to that.

“Let’s go,” Tim says before lifting you from the wet floor. “Lopez is probably calling you.”

“Tim. This won’t be easy,” you say. “We both missed a lot.”

“I don’t want easy. I want to be married to you and learn to do it all together, no matter how long that takes. Anything you want, it’s done. You want room, say the word.”

“I don’t want room now.”

“Then let’s go catch up. Want me to order food?”

“That or cook in a wet kitchen.”

“What do you and the baby here want?”

“Daughter,” you interject. Tim hums in question and you smile before explaining, “We’re having a girl.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Beyond the 305 || LS2 {4}

Summary: Australia GP - need I say more?

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, implied smut, angst

WC: 2.8k

One || Two || Three || Four

There really was a new appreciation for the effort Logan put in everyday for not just his team but for you too. You never understood how exhausting it must have been for him to balance his training and race preparation, media and sponsor duties, and flying home to you every spare moment. Now that you were travelling with him full time you finally got to see just how much added pressure it had put on him.

The London apartment, no, flat, as they called it here, was spacious enough for two people and one large dog, but it was a quarter of the size of your home in Miami. It took some getting used to, walking the length of the space in a matter of seconds or catching your toe on the furniture to avoid stepping on Sooty’s tail. But you wouldn’t change it for the world when you got to curl your body around Logan’s every night and wake up to his kisses.

“What’s your plans today, sweetheart?”

The sunrise here was watery and pale compared to Miami but it still managed to catch the blonde streaks of hair on Logan’s head. He was already dressed and ready to go for his morning run and you could hear Sooty’s paws on the wooden floor as he paced by the front door with his leash between his teeth.

“Not a lot. At 3 I have to take Sooty to the V.E.T.S,” you spell out knowing the black labrador would start sulking if he heard the word. “He has to have some extra shots now if we want to take him to Shanghai.”

Everything took more preparation when you didn’t have the usual support people around. There were different certificates needed for Sooty and new regulations for each country. It wasn’t like you could just drop him off at Dalton’s for the week. The usual help was across the Atlantic and Lily would probably be happy to have Sooty except she would be able to take him to her uni classes. Your big baby needed companionship or he would whine and howl to get attention.

“I’ll come with you,” he said with a kiss before grabbing his AirPods from where they were charging beside the bed.

“I thought you had your podcast today?”

“It’s a long flight, Alex figured we could record it on the way.”

You smiled at the thought of going to Australia for the first time. You pictured warmth, beaches and sun like you were accustomed to. It was more exciting than the other destinations so far this season. Your smile faltered as you remembered you really needed to finish packing for the evening flight and you tossed the blankets back.

“You can go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said as he pulled his shoes on. “It’s only 6.30.”

“If I don’t finish packing now I will lie awake stressing about it anyway.”

The suitcases were already on the floor of the closet, his clothes folded neatly inside. One half was William’s team uniforms, the other were his personal clothes. The second suitcase only had a garment bag with a cocktail dress for a night out before the circus began.

“I thought you said you started?” he asked as he grabbed your waist and looked over your shoulder.

“I did start,” you pointed out. “Just didn’t get much past there. Someone distracted me.”

Logan’s hands started to roam your body exactly like they had the last time you tried to pack. “You should have more self control,” he teased.

“I’ve never been good with that around you.”

Logan turned you in his arms and grinned. “And I’m goddamn glad.”

His head started to dip down and his lips were already pursed for the kiss he was more than happy to distract you with, when Sooty started to cry at the front door. A deep groan exhaled as he dropped his forehead to yours, the moment stolen from him.

“I’m coming, Soot,” he said over his shoulder before looking back at your lips. “I’ll see you in an hour, honey.”

Logan stepped away with hesitation in his eyes and your hands fell back to your sides as you sent him a flirty wink. “Run faster.”

His lips kicked up and he returned the wink. “Yes, ma’am.”

—

Logan found you sat on the floor in the closet when he returned with a sweat soaked shirt in his hand and a very happy dog at his side. The smell hit you as Sooty bounded into the room and you understood why he was so happy when you almost gagged.

“Sorry, sweets, he rolled in something at the park.”

“Something seriously dead,” you coughed, waving your hand to try to get some fresh air. “Oh my god, Soot, that is rancid!”

Logan caught his collar before he could jump onto your lap and started to guide him out of the room. “Come on, buddy, showertime for both of us.”

The water started running and you heard Logan’s soothing voice through the walls as he calmed Sooty down. Like most dogs, he loved water but hated baths. While they were busy, you finished off folding the last items you were taking and closed the suitcase with a satisfied huff, just in time to hear your name being called.

“We’ve got a runner!”

You dashed out of the room and grabbed an old towel from the linen cupboard before making chase. Logan’s towel hung precariously low on his hips and he struggled not to slip as he ran through the flat behind Sooty. Your laughter filled the room as Logan tried to herd Sooty into the towel you held open, but he was too agile and skidded out of your reach. Logan wasn’t as lucky and failed miserably as he tried to avoid the collision.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” he gasped as he pulled you onto his lap and felt your body for any bumps.

“I’m fine.” Your giggles grew as Sooty bounded back over and shook out his fur. “At least we don’t have to dry him now.”

Logan laughed, holding you tighter as he realised his towel had been lost and he was sitting naked beneath you. He swallowed deeply and your eyes started to follow a rivulet of water as it rolled down his chest.

“Soot, time for a nap,” he ordered, his voice dropping with the heated look in your eyes. Paws padded across the floor before his cuddly toy squeaked under his head and Logan rose to his feet, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you back to bed.

Pillowy kisses warmed your neck as Logan’s hands lifted your shirt up, breaking away only long enough to pull it over your head. Dropping to his knees, he dragged your leggings down and left sweet kisses on your hips before he kissed his way back up your body.

“I love you,” he whispered as his lips finally met yours and he stole your breath with his tenderness.

“I love you too, always.”

He smiled at the promise. “I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart.”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer until your bodies were flush together and you felt his hard length press to your core. “Or you could just hold me.”

—

The atmosphere was jovial and Logan was relaxed going into race week. Oscar had escorted you and Logan around his hometown with Lily, showing the best spots to eat and the quieter beaches to visit with Sooty. The boys hadn’t been able to resist karting at the track Oscar had learned to race after media day ended. They had tried to get you and Lily to join but you were happy to play referee to their on-track battles.

“Logan looks more relaxed this year,” Lily commented as you both enjoyed a lemonade ice block in the shade of a tree.

“He’s got some experience now but I think that’s going to come with its own pressure. People are still expecting a lot from him, I just hope he has a car that can help him meet those expectations. He was just starting to get the hang of the last one and then the season was over.”

“It sounded like the car was going to be better this year from what Osc said.”

“I'm sure that’s what Alpine told Gasly and Ocon too,” you said with a laugh.

“Serves them right,” Lily giggled. “Alpine, not Pierre.”

“What about Estie Bestie?”

Lily wrinkled her nose at the nickname. “I only met him a couple of times but I definitely wouldn’t call him that.”

It took a lot for Lily to struggle to find something nice to say about someone, she was the sweetest, most soft spoken woman you knew. So it was enough to suggest he was someone you probably wouldn’t go out of your way to meet anytime soon.

“I do wish the guys would include Lo more. I know it hurts him to see pictures of the others getting together. Not that he says anything, he’s too polite,” you said with a sigh. “He was so happy when he was invited to play padel at Testing.”

Your eyes found his blue helmet as it raced around the track, neck and neck with Oscar’s orange one. It was amazing what he could do when given an equal piece of equipment, you would never have been able to tell that they were on opposite ends of the driver standings when watching them call a draw at the finish line.

The boys abandoned their helmets and dropped to the grass beside you and Lily laughing about something Oscar had said on the walk over. Sooty was in heaven as he rolled onto his back and welcomed the fresh hands for belly rubs.

“We should get a dog.”

Lily didn’t look impressed at Oscar’s suggestion and you distracted yourself by offering Logan some of your ice block before it completely melted.

“Just something small, like a Jack Russel,” he continued. “They can’t be that hard to look after, right?”

You barely contained your laugh as you shared an amused look with Logan that he returned, but Lily caught it.

“Just ask them,” she pointed out. “It’s like having a child, isn't it? I’m studying, you’re working and travelling, who will look after it?”

“It is a full time commitment,” you agreed. “And it takes a lot of planning to have everything prepared for travelling. I actually think a child would be easier, they only need a passport to get on a plane.”

Logan nudged your knee with his and winked. “Should we test that theory out?”

“We haven’t even set a date for the wedding so calm your loins, babe,” you said with a pat to his thigh that triggered Oscar to snort.

“Okay, no dog,” he conceded, a relief to Lily’s ears. “You guys wanna get dinner?”

You were about to take up the offer but Logan shook his head and said, “we have somewhere to be.”

“We do?”

“I didn’t ask you to pack a nice dress for it to get left in the hotel. I have something special planned,” he teased. “And no, I’m not telling you, it’s a surprise.”

Try as you might, he didn’t give you a hint of what he had organised.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

Logan was struck by your beauty and his luck as you stepped out of the room in a dress that accentuated all of your features. His mouth went dry at the thought that he had the pleasure of spending the rest of his life with you.

You stepped closer and ran your palms down the clean lines of his dress shirt that had the top two buttons undone. The baring of skin showed the necklace he wore, a gift from your first anniversary. He had far more expensive pieces of jewellery but he favoured that one the most because it came from you.

“Are you sure we have to go? You’re too handsome for your own good.”

His eyes traced the peek of your tongue and it rolled across your lips suggestively and he felt his pants tighten. He did debate cancelling it all to take you straight back to the bedroom you had left but he finally wrestled his thoughts back under control. “Unfortunately, but I might cancel dessert and have you instead.”

A town car was already waiting at the front of the hotel and as it drove along you watched the city as the sun set and the street lights brightened. Melbourne was beautiful.

“We should set a date for the wedding,” Logan suddenly said as the car pulled up at the city waterfront. “Everything is so uncertain this year but you’re the one constant in my life. If I lose everything else I’ll survive, but I will always need you.”

You laced your fingers with his as you stepped out of the car and thanked the driver. “You’ll always have me, wedding or not.”

He smiled and kissed your ringed hand, leading the way to a yacht moored at the pier. “I know, but I kind of look forward to calling you my wife.”

“Kind of? I hope you’ll have more enthusiasm with your vows.” Your words were light and your smile teasing before you released his hand to board the private boat.

The light mood lasted well into the night and your heart was as full as your stomach when the boat finished its harbour cruise. You wished that mood could last all weekend, but the universe had other plans.

yourusername

yourusername date night with my favourite human @/logansargeant 💙 thank you @/lilyzneimer for babysitting our boy, Sooty, not Oscar.

You knew that look of defeat when he emerged from James’ office, it saturated his soul and leaked out through his pale blue eyes. You could count on your hand the number of times Logan had cried in front of you and your heart ached at the thought of adding another to the tally. Without a word, laced your fingers with his and walked back to the privacy of his driver room. The door shut, the sound as muted as the mood, and you opened your arms to let him fall into your embrace as he confirmed the rumours were true. Logan’s hands clutched the back of your shirt in his fists and he buried his face in your neck. “Alex is racing.”

Your heart broke at the despondent tone and you drew soothing circles across his back. He had known it was a possibility going into the meeting but had hoped his principal wouldn’t put him in a position to give up his seat for the race. Unfortunately his prayers had gone unanswered.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” you murmured as his tears hit your shoulder. “I can’t believe they are even allowed to do this.”

“James didn’t want to ask, but he’s right, Alex has the best chance for points - his history shows that clearly,” Logan rasped through the lump in his throat. He felt humiliated, disappointed and angry all at once, but he was expected to grin and bear it for the team as a united front.

Your brows knitted together and you cradled his face in your hands so you could look him in the eyes. “He gave you the choice?”

Logan shrugged. “I mean, it didn’t feel like it, but I did say yes.”

“Yes means nothing if it’s under duress,” you stated bluntly, a familiar fire warming your stomach at the thought of his kind nature being taken for granted. “Just say the word, baby, and I’ll take him to church.”

Logan shook his head and the gaping wound that had been cleaved into his chest closed a little at your protective nature. He knew you would march right back into James’ office and argue until you were blue in the face, but he feared it would only make things worse for his future prospects in the team. This was his battle to face and he was going to play the long game, even if it took playing the fool for one race.

“I know you would, sweetheart,” he said with a sniffle, wiping his eyes and swallowing down the emotion. It would have made his father proud. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said with a kiss, tasting the salty tears on his lips. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just…stay with me?” Logan took a few steadying breaths and rested his forehead on yours as he screwed his eyes shut. “The cameras, I can’t deal with them alone. I can already feel them zooming in on me, wanting a reaction.”

You draped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair with a reassuring smile. “Let’s disappoint them all then. Shall we?”

He took a deep breath and forced his lips to tip up into a hesitant smile that slowly grew more substantial the longer he looked at you. “Yes, ma’am.”

[heartsforvin]

BAD FOR BUSINESS

guys i got this idea from reading a matt sturniolo fic 🙏🏼

buckle up mfs, its a long one

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, age gap ( r’s 23, v’s 30), use of pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, cussing, use of pet names, use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything !!

summary: when vinnie hired you on to babysit his four year old, he never expected things to take a turn the way it did

you started the job right before the boy turned one. he was the sweetest infant, and even more sweet as a toddler.

it was hard to believe it had already been three years since you started the job, it feeling like yesterday.

you show up at the household five days a week, everyday like clockwork at seven in the morning just so vinnie could be at work on time.

just like today. it was six-forty-five when you pulled up to the hacker residence, fifteen minutes early.

there was really no actual set time you had to be at the house, but vinnie did say before at least seven-fifteen.

knocking on the door softly but loud enough to be heard, you waited for the man to answer.

you were met with the man on the other side, giving you a greeting smile.

you would never admit this to anyone but you always thought vinnie was attractive. with his blonde curls, strong bone structure, and not to mention the obvious muscle.

he still portrayed that ‘dad bod’ but it wasn’t as obvious as most.

“goodmorning ms l/n,” he smiles. “come on in, wes is still asleep but i’m sure you don’t mind.”

you smiled back with a nod as you walked into the house. it wasn’t big, a single story with only two bedrooms, perfect for vinnie and his son.

over the years you came to find out their story. you found out that vinnie’s girlfriend at the time had just up and left the baby as his responsibility.

it was clear he needed the help, and daycare was just too expensive for him to handle, so he decided to hire an ongoing babysitter.

that’s where you come into play. three years ago you had found this ad on a website, clicked on it and read the description.

once you did you knew you had to at least interview for the family, you didn’t ever expect to be hired.

now here you were three years later, wesley had become someone you truly loved like your own son.

“should i wake him up if he sleeps in a little too late?” you asked the older man as you set your things down on the kitchen counter.

vinnie shook his head. “no, not unless it’s past ten.” he informed.

you nodded and watched as vinnie grabbed his things off the counter. he had tattoos run along his hands that you swore was the hottest thing.

shaking your head, you look at the man across from you as he repeats his words you didn’t hear.

“there’s yogurt and strawberries in the fridge, strawberries are all cut up so all you have to do is serve them. you know he’s going to want apple juice with his breakfast so — water it down.” you cut him off with a smile.

vinnie returns the smile and nods. “right. i’ll be home probably about five-thirty, six so i’ll see you then.”

the two of you say goodbye and that’s when you go and sit down on the couch a bit until the boy wakes up. it was around seven-twenty in the morning so you knew it would be at least an hour or two before he wakes up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

about an hour later you saw the young blonde peek into the livingroom, wide smile across his face when he noticed you were there.

“y/n!” he exclaimed as he ran up to you. you scooped him up in your arms and kissed his head.

“morning, wes. sleep good?” you asked as the boy squirmed out of your arms and sat beside you on the couch.

with a nod to his head, you smiled. standing up, you grabbed his hand and helped him off the couch before saying, “your dad got breakfast all ready for you, you hungry?”

the blonde smiled widely as you helped him down and ushered him into the kitchen.

you grabbed his booster seat and sat him in it before going to the fridge and grabbing the yogurt and strawberries for his breakfast.

“here you go wes. you want your apple juice?” you knew his answer but just thought to check in case there was a chance he didn’t want it.

like always, wesley smiled as he asked politely for the drink. your went to pour it in a sippy cup and watered it down just a bit like always.

handing it to him, he thanked you as you ruffled his hair with a smile. you had eaten breakfast on the way here so you decided to sit at the table and wait for the boy to finish.

once he was done you cleared the table and helped him out of his seat. you put it back in its respective spot and then took the blondes hand and told him it was time to get dressed.

“which shirt today, dinosaurs or trucks?” you asked the boy as you held up two shirts.

he looked between the two before pointing to the one in your left hand. “dino’s!”

you laughed and smiled as you put the other shirt away. after dressing him, you told him you had to clean up the kitchen and to stay in his room to play with his toys until you got done.

once done with cleaning up the kitchen, you decided to take wesley to the park. it was a pretty nice day out, plus it was the last few weeks of summer so you wanted to make sure he got all his time outside in.

“hey wes, you wanna go out to the park? you can bring your car with.” you ask, the boy’s eyes lit up at the last words you said.

for wesley’s fourth birthday vinnie had gotten him one of those battery operated toy cars. wesley loved it the minute he saw it and was outside for a good two hours riding it around that day.

after getting very excited about hearing he could bring his car with, wesley immediately ran to the kitchen to wait for you.

you laughed at the boy's excitement as thee two of you made it out to the garage.

opening up the garage door, you got the car out and wesley immediately got into the toy car and drove out of the garage.

"hold on bubba, gotta close the door." you informed the boy, seeing as he was already halfway down the driveway.

after closing the garage door the two of you were off to the park. it wasn't that far from vinnie's place, so it was perfect walking distance.

once arrived, wesley stopped his car and you watched as he made his way to the slide.

as you watched the boy, your thoughts immediately went to the older blonde man, more specifically, how attractive he really was.

you shouldn't be thinking like this, especially since he was your boss, not to mention years older than you, but you couldn't help yourself.

you wondered if he thought about you the way you did him. he couldn't have though, he's acted nothing but professional to you for the past three years.

you've always thought about what it'd be like to be in a certain situation with him. how would he react? would he be polite and push you away, or would he give in?

that's what you had to find out.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

back at the house, it was around five-forty-five and you were getting wesley ready for dinner. he had demanded chicken nuggets and mac and cheese to you on your guys' way home from the park.

you of course couldn't tell him no, so here you were, preparing everything for his dinner.

after getting the boy into his booster seat, you finished up cooking the mac and cheese before serving some in a bowl to him, the chicken nuggets were served soon after that.

"had a good day today, wes?" you ask as you sit down at the table with him.

wesley smiles and nods. "when's daddy gonna be home?" he asked you before scooping up mac and cheese.

you checked your phone for the time before answering him. "soon, bub, probably after you're done eating."

wesley smiled and continued to finish his food. about twenty minutes later vinnie walked into the door and wesley immediately ran up to him.

"hey bud!" vinnie said as his son hugged his legs.

vinnie set his things down and picked up his son. "had the best day!" wesley exclaimed to his dad.

you watched with a smile as wesley told vinnie all about your day today. vinnie flashed you a smile and for a minute your plan was working.

"alright bud, go in your room and play for a bit while yn and I talk, okay?" vinnie said as he put the boy down.

wesley ran to his room while you and vinnie watched. once he left you started to clean up the dishes from dinner.

you watched as vinnie rounded the other side of the island and took a seat on one of the barstools. "you don't have to clean up, you're good to go home for the day." vinnie informed.

you smiled and shook your head. "its alright, i don't mind," you told him. "plus you worked all day, it's the least i can do."

vinnie noded and just stay put. after dishes were done you had offered to bathe wesley to help out once more before leaving.

"you don't need to do all that." vinnie says as he takes a sip of his drink. "I can bathe him, he is my son of course." he laughs.

it was the first real laugh you've gotten to hear in years, and you had to admit that you loved hearing it.

although, he was right, you definitely did not have to wash wesley up, vinnie could do it himself. you just loved spending time with both vinnie and wesley, you couldn't help it.

"okay, let me just say goodbye to him and i'll be out of your hair." you tell the man before you walked out of the room.

once you left, vinnie let out a heavy sigh, thanking everything that you left when you did. recently he's been having thoughts no boss should have about the person they've employed.

thoughts like how pretty you are, how pretty you looked in your bathing suit that one summer when he had invited you over to swim because wesley wouldn't stop asking for you.

"fuck." he cursed under his breath, now trying to not get a tent in his pants before he sees you for the final time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

the next day you arrived at the house exactly at seven. knocking on the door, vinnie opened it moments later with his eyebrows furrowed.

"shit I'm sorry, i forgot to tell you wesley's at my parents house today. you don't have to work today, go home and take the day off." he informed with a smile.

you smiled too, that's when you took in his appearance; tousled hair and sweats, no shirt.

your breath caught in your throat at the sight. you hadn't seen him like this since that summer he invited you over for a little pool party with wesley.

vinnie notices how you react and chuckles. "this looks unprofessional, know," he breathes. "i just needed a day to myself, i know it sounds selfish but it's true."

you shrug it off. "don't need to explain yourself, it's fine i understand." you tell him with a smile.

vinnie returns the gesture. "well i guess i'll get going," you sigh. "thank you, i'll see you tomorrow."

vinnie smiles before he watches you walk off, that was until he called you back over.

"hey actually if you'd want, i could have some help around the house a bit." he tells you, opening the door for you.

you walk into the house and set your things down on the counter. vinnie comes up behind you, hand gliding against your back before he faces you.

he's still in his sweatpants and no shirt. he looks at you and takes in your outfit.

a nice baby blue sundress paired with black converse. he loved how you dressed cute but also a bit casual too.

"so uhm," vinnie clears his throat, making you smile. "you can start with whatever you want first, no rush and you definitely don't have to do this." he explains.

you smile as you start to walk over to the kitchen sink, vinnie follows in suit and sits at the island chair that faces you.

you start with the dishes that are already in the sink before going to the ones on the counter

"what'd you guys do last night after i left that has the sink overflowing?" you ask with a small laugh.

vinnie reciprocates, laughing with you before answering. "wes wanted cookies before bed, unfortunately he makes it hard to say no and so i gave in."

you laugh, the four year old can be very persistent with things. as you continue with the dishes, you can feel vinnie's gaze linger on you.

he watches as you wash the dishes then set them on the counter to dry. watches as you glance over at him and starts smiling.

he smiles back, not even hesitating before he does, almost like its on cue, an instinct.

"you're beautiful, you know that?" he doesn't know what possessed him to say that, but he's glad he did.

the reaction he gets out of you is one he suspected, your cheeks tint to a red color, smiling wide as you look at him.

"thank you, vinnie. you're not so bad yourself, even when looking casual." you return the compliment.

you both don't know what is going on right now, this was extremely unprofessional, at least it felt like it.

vinnie didn't care right now though. he'd been having these thoughts about you for so long, he needed to act on them.

taking a bolder approach, he stands up and rounds the other end of the island so he's now by you. you turn to face him, and that's when you notice the slight stubble on his face.

you thought it made him look sexy, paired with his tattoos, you almost didn't want to give in.

his hand travels to land on your waist, you look down at the placement and that's when vinnie asks, "is this okay?"

it shouldn't be, but it sure does feel okay. nodding your head, you give him a verbal response too, just so he knows.

his other hand cups your jaw and that's when you watch as he leans in, so you do the same until you're met in the middle.

the way his lips felt on yours was like nothing youve experienced before. it was needy, hungry, like you've both needed this for so long.

its almost like you did, you've both imagined this moment too many times, and finally acting on it almost felt unreal.

"jump." vinnie says against your lips. you do as told, jumping up so you're now in his arms.

none of you break apart as you feel him gently place you on the counter. his next movements however were not so gentle.

a gasp slips out of you when you feel his hand come in contact with your clothed pussy. he smirks up at you, watching your head tip back as his finger presses against your clit.

"vinnie." is all you muster out, it coming out as more of a moan.

vinnie smiles as he continues to rub at you through your panties. he watches as you widen your legs for him and bite your lip.

"let it out, baby. its only us, let me hear you." vinnie says, making you let out a loud moan once he circles your clit again.

carefully, he pulls your panties to the side and chuckles softly when he sees how wet you are already.

"barely touched you and you're already this wet f'me? dirty girl." he rasps before gliding his finger over your folds.

a whine slips from you and he smiles up at you, standing to give you a quick kiss before going down on his knees.

the sight in front of you almost makes you let go right then and there. vinnie's head disappears from your view and under your dress.

he grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, tossing them on the floor somewhere before dipping his head between your thighs again.

you feel his fingers on you again, making you moan out his name for the second time. vinnie smiles to himself before easing his middle finger into you.

"shit," you moan, holding onto the edge of the counter. "vinnie, please."

he removes himself from between your legs and looks up at you, asking what you want. "you want more?"

you nod an he happily obliges, dipping his head back under. this time, his middle finger and mouth make contact with you.

his finger his sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace as his tongue prods at your clit, eliciting moans out of you.

soon, he gets antsy and lifts himself up again. "can i take this off?" he asks, referring to your dress.

you nod with a smile and before you know it, its off in a second. he asks to take your bra off too, to which you do for him, landing somewhere in the room.

his hands immediately find your chest, taking both of your breasts in his hands and squeezed them, making your head tip back.

he kisses from your lips all the way back down to where he was moments prior. his mouth lands on you again and you grip his hair, tugging softly which makes him groan into you.

"taste so good, princess." vinnie mumbles against you as his tongue laps up your juices.

you push his head into you more, causing a groan from him and moan from you at the feeling. you feel his ring finger enter you and that's when the pleasure intensifies.

"vinnie, g-gonna-" you're cut off by a whine as you feel his finger hit that one special spot.

vinnie looks up at you, continuing his actions as he speeds up his pace on you.

before you can utter the words to him, you're summing on his face in a second. vinnie lifts off of you and smiles, making you smile with him.

"so fuckin' good, baby," he breathes out before kissing you. "stand up f'me."

you do as told, hopping off the counter and standing up. before you have the chance to speak, vinnie's turning you around so you face the counter.

"gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy? huh, sweetheart?" you can't even answer him, the tone in his voice already making you wet.

you nod as you feel his hand make contact with your ass. his sweats pool to his ankles, letting his cock spring free and smack against his abdomen

"gonna give it to you so good, baby." he whispers in your ear as he strokes himself a few times.

you wiggle your ass just to tease him, he smacks it again before asking if you're ready.

with verbal conformation, you tell him you're ready and that's when you feel him push into you for the first time.

"shit, feel so fucking good already, don't know if i'll last." his words make you smile as you bite your lip.

vinnie grabs your hips and starts to move in and out of you at a slow pace. you grip the counter, already feeling like it's too much.

"so big." is all you can say, making vinnie smirk.

his thrusts soon become needy and face paced as time went on. when you noticed, you moved your ass back on him, making him moan.

"that's it, fuck yourself on my cock. good girl." the praise goes straight through you, making you whine in pleasure.

vinnie kisses your shoulder as he fucks into from behind. he can't believe this is happening. he doesn't want it to end.

his hands move from your hips to your chest in an instant, squeeing both of your tits as he thrusts into you.

"feel so good princess," he rasps. "god we should've done this sooner."

you smile at his words and agree. even though this is completely wrong, it feels so right.

"vinnie," you whine when you feel his thumb rub circles on your clit. "baby please."

he takes that as a sign that you're close and his pace along with his thumb on your clit becomes harsher.

"give it to me baby, come on. be a good girl and cum all over my cock."

his words only spur you on more and before you know it you're doing as told. a loud moan rips from you as you let go on vinnie's cock, making him smile as he reaches his release.

with a few more thrusts he cuts deep inside you with a moan followed with it.

"fuck." he says once he catches his breath.

he grabs your dress off the floor and helps you put it back on. he grabs his pants and puts them on himself after.

"that was.." you trail off with a laugh, not even knowing the correct words to use.

vinnie laughs with you, also not knowing the right words to use to explain what just happened.

you fix your hair and dress before you hear the doorbell ring. both you and vinnie go wide-eyed when you hear the door open and the sound of his son's voice.

"shit." he mutters. you watch as he quickly picks up your bra and puts it in your purse.

wesley comes around the corner just in time, followed by vinnie's parents. they've met you before so you say hello before grabbing your things.

"I should head out. thank you again vinnie for letting me help out, i'll see you tomorrow." you say to the blonde man.

he walks you out real fast and as you two are alone, he kisses you quickly. "see you tomorrow."

you smile and walk to your car, checking your purse for your keys. that's when you realize you left something on the kitchen floor, no doubt one of the three people who just walked into the house finding it.

tomorrow's going to be an awkward day.

hiii this has been in my drafts for months so i’m glad i finally got it out !!

i switched to writing on my new laptop but some things i do still have to do on my phone but majority of my writing will be from there (not like you can tell LOL)

but i hope you guys liked this !! i loved writing it <33

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @sturnioloshacker , @khackerr , @42angelgirl , @visualbutterflysworld , @slvthrs , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @kriissy4gov , @laylasbunbunny , @khxna , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @defnotayonna , @supabhad , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @violet0182 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy , @jpg3 ,

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret ☆

A MANDALORIAN SERIES MASTERLIST

[ COMPLETED ]

✩ a bodyguard!din x princess!reader fic ✩

series summary :

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

18+ mdni

do you like kitschy, campy romance novels? if you're reading this, I hope so.

behind the scenes & chapter notes + other extras (spoilers) :

chapters 1-5

chapter 6-15

spotify playlists

Lysa & Elaine information

the bks screen adaption

bks q&a

bks what if's

reader is generally not described past being picked up a few times, and having hair long enough to be put up

✩ chapters containing smut!

chapter one : honeymoon (6.7k words)

[ Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” ]

chapter two : silent treatment (7.4k words)

[ Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. ]

✩ chapter three : the smitten paladin (4.6k words)

[ You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. ]

chapter four : sarad'ika (6.8k words)

[ Sarad'ika. 

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. ]

✩ chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (5.0k words)

[ Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. ]

✩ chapter six : torment (5.1k words)

[ Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. ]

✩ chapter seven : just friends (3.1k words)

[ Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. ]

chapter eight : solar markets (5.3k words)

[ It’s nice to wake up excited again. 

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. ]

✩ chapter nine : shuk'la rules (5.6k words)

[ You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. ]

✩ chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (4.1k words)

[ He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 

That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. ]

chapter eleven : he loves me not (4.6k words)

[ Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. ]

chapter twelve : pretend (4.4k words )

[ Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. ]

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (3.5k words)

[ He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever? ]

chapter fourteen : condemned (4.9k words)

[ You’re having trouble sleeping. 

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. ]

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (5.4k words)

[ “What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” ]

chapter sixteen : absolution (4.6k words)

[ There’s a visceral sense of dread when you wake up, for several reasons. 

The glaring obvious culprit of your discomfort would be the fact that today’s your husband's birthday. ]

chapter seventeen : the apostate’s cabin (3.5k words)

[ Just Din. 

It’s sinking in as you walk in silence, holding his hand tightly as he pulls you towards his home. ]

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (5.4k words)

[ It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. ]

✩ chapter nineteen : reverence (7.3k words)

[ You really want to. 

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. ]

✩ chapter twenty : like real people do (8.4k words)

[ Mando and Din. 

All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them. 

You’re playing with his curls. ]

✩ chapter twenty one : te mirci't (9.0k words)

[ “It means I love you.” 

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. ]

✩ chapter twenty two : it’s you that i lie with (11.3k words)

[ Naboo has several trading ports. 

You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. ]

✩ chapter twenty three : lunar markets (15.0k words)

[ Sneaking out of the castle gets easier every time you do it. 

It only takes a few minutes and you’re walking outside towards the forest trail, Din’s hand in yours, still giddy. ]

✩ chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur (7.8k words)

[ He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. ]

✩ chapter twenty five : wedding bells (11.7k words)

[ Four days of Leo. 

You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. ]

chapter twenty six : crucifixion (12.7k words)

[ “My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” ]

chapter twenty seven : the apostate (6.0k words)

[ Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain. 

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. ]

✩ chapter twenty eight : a place for us (8.4k words)

[ You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. ]

chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue) (6.1k words)

[ The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh. ]

[wraithlafitte]

you need to rest

pairing: sam winchester x reader

CONTENT: fluff, established relationship, reader is shorter than sam (but who isn't)

word count: 724

You tiptoed down the stairs from the second floor of Bobby's house, careful not to step on the places you knew creaked. You had awoken feeling the full effects of your dehydration, and needed a glass of water asap or you were certain your mouth would shrivel up and die.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you noticed a faint glow coming from inside the library. The men often stayed up late researching, so you didn't even look to see who it was, beelining to the kitchen to get your water.

The doors separating the library from the kitchen were closed, so it wasn't until you were on your way back to bed when you glanced inside the library.

It wasn't Bobby up late, like you assumed. It was Sam, laying over a pile of books, his head resting on his forearm like a pillow. His laptop was open in front of him, casting his face in a ghostly light that emphasized the tired lines etched into his skin.

You walked to the desk softly and placed your water glass down, leaning over Sam to close his browser windows and turn off his laptop.

You gently shook Sam's shoulder. He jerked upright and grabbed your arm, always ready for a fight. "It's just me, Sam," you whispered. He instantly relaxed and dropped your arm.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Guess I fell asleep."

"It's four in the morning," you told him sympathetically. "You've been working yourself to the bone over this thing. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," Sam croaked. He looked haggard, dark bags under his eyes and lines carved into his brow from squinting.

A few moments from the past week clicked into place in your mind. Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded and eyes closed. Sam dozing off in the car on the way to town. Sam with his forehead pressed to a bookshelf, jumping when the book fell from his hand, and insisting that he hadn't been falling asleep. Going to bed before Sam and waking up with him not there.

"Jesus. How much sleep have you been getting?" you asked concernedly. "You look like shit."

"I don't know."

"Don't know or won't say because you know it's not enough?"

Sam heaved a sigh that turned into a yawn. "Maybe like, three hours a night? Two? I've gone longer with less."

"A year without a soul doesn't count," you said, swatting his arm. "Come on, we're going to bed."

"But-" he protested.

"Sam."

He closed his eyes defeatedly. "Okay. You win."

Sam rose from the chair slowly and grabbed you into his arms sleepily, resting his chin on your head.

You led him by his limp arm up the stairs to the room you two were staying in, although lately it had just been you. Sam didn't bother to put pajamas on, simply kicking off his shoes and falling face-first into the mattress. You giggled, setting your water down on the side table, and followed suit.

Sam peeked one eye open to look at you. You brushed his hair behind his ear. "You gotta take better care of yourself."

He smiled half-heartedly. "That's what I have you for," he teased. As you scoffed, he turned onto his side and pulled you against his chest. You snuggled against his warm body, face stuffed into his flannel, breathing in the scent of him.

You yawned, causing him to yawn as well, sending you both into a fit of giggles. You turned your face solemn again. "Promise me you'll come to bed when I do this week. At least."

Sam looked lovingly into your upturned face and kissed you on the forehead. "Promise," he whispered. His hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you close into his neck again.

You kissed the base of his throat. "I love you. I don't want you to run yourself into the ground."

He exhaled lightly. "I won't. I know you won't let me. And I know it's not your job to take care of me, but... I appreciate it."

Your arm curled around his side, rubbing his back. "I know," you said simply.

As the first pale fingers of dawn crept over the horizon, you and Sam had dozed off in each other's arms, breathing in tandem.

Finally resting.

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