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teapartyprincess4two · 2 months

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Can you make a Latina reader x Matt sturniolo smut? You can make it up how you want it

Lipstick- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Thick!Latina!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, smut

inspiration: request^^

translations: embedded within the story!

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of Spanish, Hispanic/ Latino culture mentioned, established relationship, slight cursing, traditional parents, mentions of alcohol, didn’t name any of the side characters, long

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

—

Matt sits in the living room, nervous hands playing with the keys that hang from his belt loop. Your mother keeps him company, sitting on the sofa across from him as she asks him a plethora of personal and uncomfortable questions. Latina mothers are unashamed to prod into the personal life of others, especially when meeting their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

You’ve only been dating Matt for a couple of months, and although he seems like a nice kid, she’s not entirely sure she can trust your judgment just yet. The few boys you’ve brought home before haven’t always necessarily met her high standards. Matt hasn’t done anything to throw her off yet, but she’s sure she’ll find something to dislike. If he manages to stick around long enough, though, he’d surely grow on her.

“So what do you do for work?” your mom asks, momentarily looking up from her latest costura project to catch Matt’s anxious gaze. She expertly weaves the string in and out of the white lace, forming an intricate floral design in the process.

[translation: costura- sewing]

“Oh um… my brothers and I we make YouTube videos,” Matt doesn’t know where to look, he’s afraid to make eye contact but also afraid that if he doesn’t it’ll come off as disrespectful. He’s never been so nervous in his life, and from the look on your mother’s face he can tell that that’s probably not what she wanted to hear.

Your mother scoffs, obviously unimpressed with his answer. “Esta niña, siempre saliendo con los más huevones,” she turns her head towards the stairs. Matt’s been waiting for you to descend for over 30 minutes, and the awkward tension was even becoming too much for her.

[translation: “This girl, always going out with the laziest ones.”]

Matt coughs, taking a quick swig of the water bottle in front of him. He’s nervous, his hands are clammy and he has no idea what your mom just said. What was taking you so long?

“So is YouTube gonna pay the bills?” your mom was abrasive and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. In her eyes, nobody was worthy enough of her babygirl. Matt remains silent, he doesn’t even know what to say, so she continues, “You know, when you two start having kids.”

The thought of having children at 20 years old terrifies Matt beyond belief, he can feel his hands getting clammier by the second. He understands that it’s a cultural dissonance, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re not planning on any kids soon, ma’am. We haven’t— Um, we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice trembles slightly, your mom was doing a good job of intimidating him.

Matt takes another swig of his water, his mouth was dry and he felt like his throat was closing up. “Oh, but you’re having sex with my daughter right?” the question is so unapologetically bold that it causes Matt to choke on the liquid, some of it managing to dribble down his chin.

“I’m sorry?” he chokes out, but he heard your mom loud and clear.

Finally, as if on queue, Matt hears footsteps coming down the steps. ‘Finally!’ he thinks, watching as your curvy figure rounds the staircase and enters the living room. Matt shoots up from his spot on the couch, his eyes immediately dancing over your entire body.

You’re wearing a fitted, black bodycon dress that reaches just above your knees. The spaghetti straps work to hold your bust in place, a gold necklace dangling delicately above the curves of your breasts. You push your freshly curled hair onto your shoulders, luscious locks framing your face perfectly. White lace-up sneakers adorn your feet, your ankle bracelet glimmering as you walk into the living room.

Matt can’t keep his eyes off of, every aspect of your being pulling him in and putting him in a trance. Your mom notices Matt’s inability to hide his attraction for you, “her eyes are up here!” His face goes beet red, eyes immediately darting up to your face.

You roll your eyes before sending Matt an apologetic smile, “Ya nos vamos, Ma.”

[translation: “We’re leaving, Ma.”]

“Bueno, mi niña. Pórtate bien,” she warns, bringing you in for a strong, warm embrace. Your mom’s change in behavior is so quick it gives Matt whiplash, but he can’t blame her for being standoffish with him. He understands that it’s her mother bear nature.

[translation: “Okay, babygirl. Be good.”]

You kiss your mom on the cheek, your red lipstick staining her face. You turn to Matt with a big, toothy smile sprawled onto your face. “You ready?” you ask, taking his hand in yours as you guide him outside. He nods and hums in response, squeezing your hand as he trails behind you in a lovesick daze. Your ass jiggles with each step and Matt wonders how he ever got so lucky.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize once you’re in the car, getting situated in the passenger seat. “No problem. You look really beautiful,” he replies, starting the car and doing another once over on your body. You lean over the center console with puckered lips, “kiss?” He happily obliges, your red lipstick instantly transferring onto him. His pants are becoming tighter by the second and you notice it right away. Your relationship is still in its infancy, so even this has you blushing.

“Was my mom nice?”

“Mm yeah, some like that,” he replies with a chuckle, adjusting his pants and beginning the drive to your destination. You know he’s lying, but you’re grateful that he’s courteous enough to put up with your mom’s attitude.

“Just wait till you meet my dad and my siblings. They’re not as bad,” you say, the hum of the car engine and the low music in the background creating a calm atmosphere.

“Can’t wait,” he laughs, and although he’s nervous for when that day finally comes, he’s actually excited to become a constant presence in your life. It might be too early to say it, but he’s definitely falling in love with you, the tent in his pants making it obvious as ever.

—

A year has passed since that day and, as expected, your mom has warmed up to Matt. They aren’t super close yet, but she definitely sees him in a different light. She can tell that he truly cares for you and that what you two share is real, but the real test comes when Matt meets your dad.

Your dad works a lot, the manual labor taking a toll on his body that puts him to sleep as soon as he gets home. So, even if your dad is home when Matt’s around, he’s usually asleep or resting in his room.

Matt was nervous when he met your mom, but he’s TERRIFIED to meet your dad. There are so many factors to take into consideration; the language barrier, the cultural dissonance, the fact that he’s your literal dad! It doesn’t help that your siblings are gonna be there too, all of it makes Matt tremble with unease. But he’s been invited to your family’s cookout so he can no longer postpone it.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, it’s not too cold or too hot. It’s the perfect day for a cookout, and Matt should feel excited, but he doesn’t. Sweaty hands grip the steering wheel as he anxiously drives to your house. Chris and Nick are being dragged along as moral support, but unlike Matt, they’re not nervous.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you guys. I don’t even think they know I’m a triplet,” Matt’s words are coming out a mile a minute as he places the car in park outside your house. The panic is starting to set, and from the looks of it they’re the first ones here. Usually being on time would make Matt proud, but this just means there will be less people to hide behind.

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Plus, maybe Y/n has a cute cousin or something and we can be like brother in laws,” Chris is only half-joking. “Gross,” Nick grimaces, hopping off the car and beginning the short walk to your front door. Chris laughs, copying Nick’s actions and following closely behind.

That just leaves Matt. He’s glued to the front seat, mind racing uncontrollably. If he’s going to do this, it needs to be quick and painless or he’ll just psych himself out. He takes one deep breath in and out, unbuckling himself with such fervor that the seatbelt slaps the door. Once he steps out of the car, he takes a second to anchor himself before jogging to catch up to his brothers, who are already ringing your doorbell.

Three minutes pass and no one has opened the door, so Nick rings the doorbell again. “Allí voy, allí voy!” a voice shouts from inside, the door swinging open aggressively to reveal your little sister.

[translation: “I’m going, I’m going!”]

“Oh it’s just you,” she deadpans, moving aside so they can walk in. She slams the door shut, pushing past the stunned trio until she’s at the foot of the stairs. “Y/n’s upstairs,” she says, waving towards the staircase haphazardly.

“Y/N! YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!” she shouts up the stairs, the loud outburst taking the triplets by surprise.

Your sister is a good 4 years younger and the complete opposite of you. She’s a thin tomboy, wearing an outfit so oversized that she’s drowning in fabric. Her style directly resembles Chris’s, chunky sneakers adorning her feet and a backwards hat resting atop her long, curly hair. A long gold chain that she stole from your older brother hangs from her neck, swaying back and forth as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her makeup is nicely done and her glossy lips are resting in a smirk, she loved embarrassing you.

“Stop yelling, pendeja!” you shout back, head peering from your doorway. Your sister shoots you an unbothered shrug, turning on her heels and disappearing into the backyard. You descend the stairs, immediately hugging Matt and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Within seconds his lips are the same color as yours, your cherry lipgloss tasting all too familiar.

[translation: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)]

“You guys are early,” you chuckle, pulling away from Matt to greet the other two. “You can blame Matt for that,” Nick says, the four of you walking outside to the backyard patio. The setup is simple but nice, rows of foldable chairs and tables lining the grassy lawn. Coolers are up against the walls of the house, each one filled to the brim with soda, juice pouches, and alcohol.

As Matt is surveying the area, he sees your dad, or at least he thinks he does. A tall, muscular man is working the grill. His shiny, bald head reflects the sun and his tattoos are on full display past the sleeves of his ribbed cotton tank top.

Matt grabs your hand, pulling you back slightly, “Is that your dad?” His voice is hushed, afraid to be heard accidentally.

You follow his gaze, “What? No. That’s my brother.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes Matt, and you instantly clock it, “Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s gonna love you.” The reassuring words momentarily calm his nerves.

Your older brother’s boisterous voice breaks the moment, “Y/n, go get the rest of the carne from the kitchen!” He’s pinching carne asada, elote, and cebolla off of the grill with long metal tongs, stacking it neatly on a metal tray.

[translation: carne- meat, carne asada- grilled meat, elote- corn, cebolla- onion]

Chris is the first to approach your brother, his friendly nature making it easy for him to talk to new people,“Dude, that smells good!”

Your brother is very kind, his scary appearance completely juxtaposing his hospitable personality. He’s wearing baggy jean shorts and black air forces with a matching gold chain and bracelet. The black sunglasses that rest on his face make him look unapproachable, but the warm smile he offers Nick and Chris makes up for it.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you quickly peck Matt’s cheek, once again staining his face with your lipstick. Matt hums in response, joining the rest of the men around the grill.

“I feel like I’m seeing triple. I didn’t even know there was three of y’all,” your brother jokes, offering them each a firm handshake. Even though they’ve heard the joke millions of times before the triplets laugh.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Nick laughs.

“Bet you do. Which of you is dating my sister, though?” your brother asks, but he knows the answer; the red kiss on Matt’s cheek is a dead giveaway.

“That would be this lucky guy,” Nick replies, shaking Matt’s shoulders playfully. Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red and he can’t stop himself from smiling, he truly was lucky. “If the red lipstick on his face doesn’t tell you, then his smile surely will,” Chris chimes in, his finger smudging the makeup on Matt’s face.

Your brother laughs, “Yeah you might wanna wipe that off before el jefe gets back.”

[translation: el jefe- the boss (masculine, a nickname commonly used when referencing one’s father)]

“Oh shit,” Matt mutters, scrambling for a nearby napkin and rubbing it along his face feverishly.

—

An hour has passed and no one else has arrived yet, I guess the triplets didn’t get the memo that Hispanics are almost always fashionably late. Your brother is still working the grill, immersed in an entertaining conversation with Nick about God knows what. Chris, on the other hand, is playing soccer with your sister. He keeps either kicking the ball over the fence or missing it completely, his clumsy actions make your sister laugh uncontrollably.

You sit with Matt at one of the many tables, hands intertwined as you both anxiously await your parents arrival. “He should be back by now,” you mumble, a restless leg bouncing up and down. You knew Matt would make a good first impression on your dad, but you were still nervous.

It’s almost like you summoned him, the familiar sound of your dad’s pickup truck ringing in your ears as he pulls into the driveway. “Is that him?” Matt asks, grip tightening on your palms. “Yeah that’s him. Don’t be nervous, my dad is nice,” you reply, but you’re equally as anxious.

Your dad’s first words do nothing to help your case, you’re just glad Matt can’t understand them, “Vengan a ayudar, huevones!”

[translation: “Come help, lazies!”]

“Lemme go help, you stay here. Okay?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“Actually yeah, good idea.”

Matt follows you to the front yard, he’s so beyond nervous that his hands are practically dripping with sweat. Your dad senses Matt’s presence immediately, “Y este pinche güey que?”

[translation: “Who’s this fucking guy?”]

“Pa! No seas feo!” you exclaim, but your dad just rolls his eyes and silently instructs you to unload the truck. He bought more alcohol for the party, because when you’re Hispanic you can never have enough.

[translation: “Pa! Don’t be ugly!”]

“Es tu novio o que?” your dad asks, grunting as he picks up two cases of beer. He rests them on his shoulders with ease, he’s so strong that it intimidates Matt. “Yes, dad. He’s my boyfriend,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes.

[translation: “Is he your boyfriend or what?”]

Your dad, much like your brother, is also bald. The greatest differences between the two men are the wrinkles that crease near your dad’s eyes when he smiles, his long bushy beard, and his protruding beer belly. “Nice to meet you,” your dad finally directs his attention towards Matt, offering him a genuine smile as his thick accent butchers the words.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Matt replies, picking up a case of alcohol as to make himself useful. Your dad can tell that Matt’s nervous, and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you dating, he decides to take it easy on him. He’s heard stories about Matt from your mom and by the way you look at him, your dad knows he’s the one.

As your dad enters the backyard, absolutely shocked to see Chris and Nick. Never in his life has he met a twin, let alone triplets, “Ay güey! Hay tres? No chingues, creo que me mareé.” Everyone, except for the triplets who have no idea what’s going on, laughs at your dad’s statement.

[translation: “Oh shit! There’s three? Fuck, I think I just got dizzy.”]

“I think he likes you,” you shrug, a sly smile playing on your face. Matt suddenly feels confident, all the nerves washing away.

—

As the hours pass, the party becomes less innocent as everyone becomes more and more inebriated. Matt’s chatting with some of your uncles and cousins, a cold beer resting in his hands. He’s been nursing the same bottle all night, only sipping from it occasionally.

You’re on the opposite end of the lawn, sitting at a table with your chismosa cousin. “Your man is so handsome, prima. If you find another one like that, send him my way.”

[translation: chismosa- gossiper (feminine), prima- cousin (feminine)]

“He does have a brother,” you joke, eyes still trained on Matt. You needed to get him alone in the house, away from prying eyes.

You could think of so many actual reasons you needed him right now, though. First, he was being such a gentleman with your family. He introduced himself and made small talk despite the evident language barrier. Secondly, when you served him a plate, he finished it faster than you’ve ever seen him eat anything. Then, when he got up for seconds, he moaned as the delicious flavors melted in his mouth.

Everyone loved him, and for whatever reason that turned you on. The longer you looked at him, the wetter you became. You’re clenching your thighs together, the sheer thought of him making you squirm. Before you know it, you’re excusing yourself from your cousin and walking up to Matt with a random excuse as to why you need him inside.

“Hey is everything okay?” Matt whispers, hands resting on your hips. His head is crooked down towards you, lips capturing yours briefly before resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, just missed you,” your breathy words fan his lips as you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and travel them down his neck.

Although he welcomes the feeling, you’re both standing in the kitchen and if anyone were to walk in they’d catch the intimate moment. That’s the last thing he wanted, especially not after making a good first impression, “not here, baby.”

You pout, completely retracting yourself from Matt, “okay.”

“No, wait. I said not here,” he pulls you back in as he looks around the house in search of another secluded area, not wanting to completely abandon your touch.

“Then where?” your voice is sultry and inviting.

“Outside?” it’s the first thing that comes to Matt’s mind, and the suggestion breaks you from the mood.

“Outside, Matt? Really? Like what, like a dog?” you have a dumbfounded look on your face, almost like you can’t believe he even suggested it.

“No, like, in my car,” he dangles the keys in front of your face before pulling you back in for a heated kiss.

The kiss seems to convince you because he’s successfully leading you to his car. The street is dark, only illuminated by a few street lamps, but you find it with ease.

You fumble into the backseat, Matt following behind you giddily. “We have to be quick, okay?” you whisper, pulling Matt in for another kiss by the collar.

“You know I like taking my time with my girl,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, a playful scoff falling from your lips. You scoot further into the back seat, making room for Matt as he situates himself between your legs.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he brushes a stray curl away from your face, a gentle hand caressing your cheek. “Hmm yes, but I could hear it again,” you turn your face, kissing his palm.

“You look beautiful today,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. You mould into each other, your lips fitting perfectly against his. Matt grinds himself down on you, momentarily breaking from you long enough for you to feather kisses along his neck.

With each kiss comes an affirmation, “I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” It’s too dark to see, but you’re leaving lipstick marks all over him. The praises send blood rushing to his dick as you continue, “You did so good, papi. Just like I knew you would.”

[translation: papi- daddy (bear with me ppl)]

“Yeah? How good?” he eggs you on, relishing in all your sweet words. His hands push your dress up, the fabric scrunching up around your hips to reveal the red lace panties you wore underneath. Matt swears he’s in heaven.

“You did perfect…” your words trail off as you watch Matt remove your underwear in a daze. “How about you show me how good I did?” he grabs your waist, flipping you both over so you’re on top. You let out an excited squeal, your bare cunt coming in contact with his rough denim jeans. His dick is straining against the fabric, begging for release.

You grind onto his clothed penis, one hand resting on his chest as the other pushes your hair out of your face. Matt’s hands instinctively find your hips, a firm grip guiding your swiveling motions.

“Tell me how you want me, baby.”

“Ride me?”

As soon as he says it, you’re wiggling down onto his thighs and unbuckling his pants. Your fingers dance along his erection, teasingly tracing it. Matt bites his lip at the sight, “Please don’t tease.”

“So polite,” you giggle, finally tugging his pants down. His dick slaps against his stomach, the swollen tip already dripping with precum. Your thumb runs across the tip, spreading the lubrication along his shaft.

Matt’s a whimpering mess, propped onto his elbows to get a better view of you. When his hips subconsciously buck into your hand you decide to stop teasing and situate yourself above his crotch, dragging his penis along your wet folds before positioning it right at your entrance.

You’re going so slow, too slow, so Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing you down onto his dick with force. “Matt!” you gasp, the delicious stretch sending you into overdrive.

He doesn’t respond, instead he pushes and pulls your hips so that you’re bouncing on his cock. Your breasts are jiggling rhythmically, threatening to spill out of your dress. Animalistic grunts fill the car as Matt watches your pussy wrap around him, his jaw is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure. Your soft whimpers and moans motivate him to keep going.

“You like that?” The car is rocking with the intensity of your movements, windows becoming foggier and foggier with each breathy moan that escapes your lips.

“Yes!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky, the pleasure choking you up. “Use your words, pretty girl,” he grunts, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure approaching.

“It’s so good, papi. So, so, so good,” you babble, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. Your pussy is fluttering around him, the sensation bringing Matt closer to his breaking point.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers, large hands squeezing the skin around your hips so hard that it was sure to bruise. You place loving kisses all over his face, especially on his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” you moan, chanting his name again and again right after. He’s thrusting up into you feverishly, his pace faltering slightly as you both near your climax. “I love you too, princess. So much,” his voice is strained, strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding you in place as he shoots his warm load into you. His affirmations send you into a state of euphoria as your orgasm washes over you.

He’s peppering kissing all over your chest, whimpers escaping his lips as he comes down from his high. You delicately push his hair off of his sweaty forehead, admiring him as he continues his gentle attack on your chest.

“We should probably get back, babe. They’ll be wondering where we are,” you whisper, but he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this with you forever.

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he murmurs, hooded eyes finally looking up at you. Your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. “Aww baby, your lipstick is all messed up. You look so cute,” he laughs, attempting to wipe some it off but failing.

He shifts slightly, the streetlights briefly managing to illuminate his handsome face. Your kiss marks are all over, a clear visual representation of how much you love him.

“You’re wearing more of it than I am,” you joke, earning yourself a playful slap on the ass.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: clearly I couldn’t just write a smut right? Lmaoooo idk I had all the characters in my brain & it couldn’t just be smut 😭 hope u enjoy

This is so different from anything I’ve written before so lmk how yall like it & if you enjoy having Spanish in stories w/ the translations in the story💃🏻 also don’t kill me for using papi, i’d gladly call my man papi any day 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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finelinefae · 3 months

Text

soft

synopsis: girls with cute tummies and soft thighs and extra chub in different places can also date hot popstar boys okay? okay.

word count: 2.1 k

contains: plus size reader, non au harry, fluff, mentions of body image and insecurities, harry being obsessed with his girlfriend

A/N: the start of a new thing called 'soft girl sundays' which I'm starting !! i wrote this for wp a few months ago but it's one of my fave things I've written so I'm re-posting it here. it's cheesy and fun and harry's obsessed with his girl !! i know for a lot of us girlies sometimes it feels like we take up too much space and we're always made to feel smaller mentally, physically, in every way really but you have much of a right to be here as everyone else so take up alllll the space u need !! women are beautiful and majestic no matter their size 💘

. . .

My girls' in the audience tonight.

I look past the curtain across the stage and see her in the VIP section.

Even without the stage lights shining on her, she's glowing.

She's wearing a shirt with my initials stitched over her heart and every time she lifts her arms, I see her soft tummy and the dimples on her back when she spins. Her thick thighs are on show as she wears the smallest pink skirt known to man. Her hair falls past her shoulder and down her back and her cute cheeks turn pink as she smiles when she speaks to some of the team who stand with her.

She's the living embodiment of the divine feminine and I can't ever seem to get over the fact that she's all mine.

The music begins to play and I watch as her face lights up with excitement. She's seen this show over a few dozen times but she never fails to be just as excited as the first time she saw me walk on stage with a hickey on my neck that she'd put there moments before.

When it's my queue, I skip onto the stage and my ears nearly burst as the sound of people screaming over the music starts to fill the stadium. She's smiling, she's cheering, she's singing the words to every single song. She's so pretty and she's all I see.

When the show ends, I walk backstage to my dressing room. Normally I'd run into a car and get the Hell out of there before crowds of people start to fill up the streets to get home, but this time, Y/N was here and I knew how much anxiety she felt whenever we had to rush to be somewhere.

I walked in and accepted the compliments from my team after another successful show. Paris was a city I held close to me so it was always a fun time when we played.

I gulped down a glass of water and felt arms snake around my waist. I immediately grinned when I saw the lilac-painted nails that matched my very own. I feel her nuzzle her face into my back before I twist in her embrace and look into the eyes of the girl I love with everything in me.

"Hi baby," I whisper, stroking her cheek that still had glitter on it.

"Hi Harry," Y/N murmurs, her eyes tired but full of happiness.

"Y' okay?" I hold her, feeling her soft skin beneath my hand. She was so soft and cuddly.

"I'm okay." She smiles, lazily. "You did so good up there. I nearly cried,"

I laugh, "You always nearly cry."

"That's because I'm proud of you." She shrugs.

We sit on the couch and she straddles my lap, her skirt riding up and I nearly choke when I catch a glimpse of her lacy underwear. I put my hands on her thighs and squeeze them softly. "You excited for our trip tomorrow?" I asked, staring at her lips and suddenly feeling the temptation to kiss them. I did and she happily accepted.

We had a few days before the next show so we decided to head down to the South of France and spend a few days in Nice. We haven't been on a trip together in a while other than the tour locations so we made the most of the little time we had in between shows to spend as much time as we could together.

She nods, "I bought a new swimsuit just for the occasion."

I groan, my head falling back against the couch, "You kill me."

She giggles, "love you."

I immediately smile. "I love you too," I kiss her.

The morning after the show, we woke up early to make our flight down to Nice. Y/N whines the entire time because she's not a morning person and refuses to step one foot out of bed until I force her.

She sleeps on my chest the entire journey there, wearing an oversized hoodie with the hood up. "My whole heart is inside y'." I murmur as her cheek presses against my chest and makes her lips all pouty, light snores falling from them. I lightly push some of her baby hairs back from her face and trace my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

We arrive and head straight to our room at the hotel to drop our bags off before heading to the beach. Y/N immediately opens the doors to the balcony and gasps when she looks out at the view. "Harry, it's beautiful," Y/N says in awe.

I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her tummy, squeezing the softest part of her. I loved all the parts of her but her tummy was my absolute favourite. She always complained about it. How it stuck out when she wore tight clothing and even more so after eating. 'Harry I already have a tummy? Why punish me further by making it bigger after I eat? Seems unfair don't you think?' I'd spend the whole journey home telling her how beautiful she looked and how I loved watching her enjoy the food she loves and then I'd hold her in bed and run circles on her little, bloated belly because I had made it my life's mission to show as much love to the little chub of a tummy she had.

I pull on my swim shorts and a white linen shirt, leaving the buttons undone. I pack my beach bag for our beach towels and my book as well as my film camera and sun lotion.

Y/N walks out of the bathroom. Her hair in loose curls from the heat and her face already sunkissed and pretty. My mouth falls open when I take in the small, blue bikini on her body, revealing her soft curves and every perfect inch of her.

"Do you like it?" She blushes, acting like she's not the hottest girl I've ever seen in my entire life.

It tied at her waist and around her neck, my immediate thought being how easy it would be to take it off her and spend the entire day in bed, making out or whatever. I honestly couldn't care less as long as she's there.

"Baby," I dropped the bag on the floor and made my way towards her, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilting her head back so I could kiss her at the perfect angle.

She whines and the sound nearly has me dropping to my knees. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"You really think so?" She bites back a smile, "You don't think I need to hide my stretch marks?" My heart aches at how unsure she sounded, the fact she even had to ask made me want to pick her up and kiss each stretch mark on her body.

"No, my love," I shake my head, kissing the stretch marks at the top of her left breast and feeling her heart racing at the delicate touch. "You have absolutely nothing to hide from anybody. Y' beautiful and you're mine,"

She smiles and kisses me again.

We head down to the beach to the reserved sunbeds. Y/N lays out her towel and sits down to apply sun cream to her arms and legs. I help her do her back, massaging her shoulders and trying not to combust as she rolls her head to the side and moans at the feeling.

I literally have a crush on this woman.

And she's my fucking girlfriend.

What did I do to get this lucky in life?

"Let's go in the water baby," I held her hand and we walked to the water, stepping in together.

She wraps her arms and legs around me when we're deep enough in the water. I squeeze her ass and she gasps, swatting me gently. "What?" I look at her innocently.

"There's people watching." She hides her face in my neck and I turn us both around to catch sight of the paparazzi hiding behind the trees and snapping pictures of us.

I release a sigh and pull her face back to get a better look at her. If there was one thing that could make my girlfriend second guess herself, it was the paparazzi constantly posting her pictures online and allowing people to berate her for how she looked.

"Please don't let them ruin your day my love," I kiss her shoulder, still holding her in my arms. "I promise, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"You promise?" She pouts.

"Feel this," I reach for her hand and guide her to the small bit of chub on my hip.

She gasps, "You have chub too!"

I rolled my eyes but smiled at the same time, her excitement was adorable. "Everyone's got something they're insecure about. No matter how hard I've tried I can't seem to get rid of it, maybe it's from all the cakes you've been making but how am I meant to say no to such a pretty face?"

She squeals in delight when I pinch her sides and giggles as I press kisses to her face. "Wanna go and sunbathe for a little, baby?" She nods and we both walk out of the water so she can sit in the sun for a bit.

I spend more time in the water and come out to find Y/N verging on the brink of sleep. I smirk as I crawl between her legs and lay between her thighs, sighing softly as I turn my head away from the sun and press a kiss to her inner thigh. She reaches down and runs her fingers through my wet hair, her nails scratching my scalp.

After midday, I order food to be sent up to our room. Y/N's passed out on the sunbed so I gently shake her awake, "Hi baby," Her pretty eyes flutter open, "Need you to drink something darling, you've been in the sun for a while." She slowly sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. I unscrew the cap of the water bottle and pass it to her, watching as she almost drinks the whole thing.

"I got us room service to be delivered. Want to head back upstairs for a bit?" Her cheeks were red and her hair was all frizzy due to the humidity. She nodded and we packed our things up and made our way back to our hotel room.

Our food was already laid out on the balcony by the time we walked into the room. I had left the air conditioning on so the room was nice and cool since Y/N struggled to sleep when it was too hot and stuffy.

She was wearing my linen shirt over her bikini and I couldn't help but stare at her ass as I followed her to the table outside.

There was fruit, bread and pastries laid out on a spread at the table as well as a glass of red wine and some orange juice. Y/N sat on one of the chairs with one leg hitched up as she ate some of her baguette and cheese, her favourite snack to eat when we were in France.

"Are you having fun, my love?" I asked, taking a bite of fresh watermelon.

She nods quickly, "It's the best. Anytime with you is always the best,"

"Come sit here," I motion and move my chair out, patting my thigh. She doesn't hesitate and stands up to sit down on my lap.

I kissed the back of her neck and put one hand on her hip, my thumb traced the edge of the waistband of her bikini bottoms, slipping under the material to trail soft circles over her hip bones.

"I'm keeping you forever, I hope you know that," I murmur, appreciating this intimate moment between us which didn't happen as often as I liked them to but we made do.

"I hope so," She whispers.

I loved this girl for all she was. There is nothing in this world that could change just how much I adored her.

"Harry," She says my name, "This bikini is pretty easy to take off you know."

I choke, eyes widening and seeing the smirk on her face. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me and her ankles locking behind my back. "Is that a challenge or a request?" I kiss her lips, tasting the saltiness of the sea on them.

"Both," She says in between kisses.

This girl.

#softgirlsundays #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #writing #fic rec #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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greenglowsgold · 1 year

Text

The List.

Based on the Cass Apocalyptic Series.

The first part of this has been rumbling around in my brain ever since that Super Sad Scene a month ago, but yesterday’s update gave me the other side of the coin, so to speak, and finally pulled it all together.

@somerandomdudelmao thanks for the fuel, friend

-----

Donatello’s days have become a series of checklists, as of late.

No, that’s not exactly true. His days have always been about lists: what he’s done, what he can delegate to someone else, what still needs doing. But these days he’s been doing less and listing more, piling tasks from the first category onto the second as fast as he can manage, hoping he has enough time to empty the queue.

The full catalog is written out in a series of files, reorganized for accessibility to the layperson and meticulously up-to-date as of yesterday. He meant to run through it again this morning, ensure all the relevant instruction manuals were attached to each item and double check his protocols, but he wasn’t… he couldn’t…

He’s going to die tonight.

It irritates him, his own miscalculation of the timing more than the stark presence of his oncoming demise. The latter has been inevitable for quite some time, long enough that he’s gotten used to the idea. But he thought he had another week or two, and he doesn’t like being proven wrong. He wonders if his brothers know.

Probably not. They know it’s bad now, obviously, because they’ve piled him with pillows and blankets and surrounded him on all sides, and Leo has finally gone quiet. But they trust him, they’ve always trusted him, even when they shouldn’t, so if he swears he’ll last a few more days, they’ll believe him. He thinks. He’s pretty sure. If they knew it was tonight, he doubts they would choose to sleep through it. Donnie thinks about waking them up, but only for a moment. He’d like to say it’s a noble act, to leave them in peace a little bit longer, but the truth is he’s just too fucking tired to move.

There’s something settled bone-deep in his chest, a heaviness that sits on him like a stone, a peine forte et dure pressing him down and down, stopping his voice and his breath and his heart. He wonders if this is what dying usually feels like, or if it’s unique to the Kraang. Raph would know.

He cranes his neck to the right, to catch Raph’s face out of the corner of his eye. Raph’s working eye is half-open, staring down at the floor. Donnie could ask him. (He won’t. Let him fall asleep.) The movement of his head is so slight it doesn’t even catch Raph’s attention. He’s too tired for anything more. He’s so goddamn tired.

His lists are out of reach at the moment, with his physical interfaces back in the lab and his ninpo locked behind a wall of oh-god-it-sounds-too-exhausting-to-even-try, but he memorized them all long ago.

Raphael: Maintenance (delegated to Casey, who has it well in hand). Plans (tucked away in a dedicated folder, long term, but someday they’ll have the materials, and Raph will have a proper body again, someday). Honey (yes, he passed that along last week).

Raph has access to the tracking programs, so he can keep an eye on everyone himself, even when Donnie can’t pull up locations or vitals for him anymore. He has his own space in the base once more, somewhere to close a door when he needs to (he insists he doesn’t, but Donnie isn’t a fool). He has more excuses to spend time with Casey, who’s taking over his upkeep. Donnie hopes it fills in some gaps for both of them.

He runs through the list, double checks each item. It’s his last chance to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything important.

He looks down, finds Mikey.

There’s a stockpile of the anti-aging serum in his safe, the formula in his database, plans for the permanent solution clearly labeled. As long as they have his lab, his systems, Mikey will be as young as his years. He’s walked him through the greenhouse, even if most of it is controlled by the computer system. Mikey misses the world being green; it’ll do him good to spend more time around the plants. He has his tea, his candles. He has Draxum, who by now should have received a — mildly — threatening message warning him not to pull any disappearing acts anytime soon. He has their ancestors, just a short call away.

Donnie’s sure Mikey will call on him soon. He doesn’t plan to stray far.

Up a bit. To the left. Leo.

The arm — Leo knows how to take care of it, as does Casey.

The passwords — reset, something even Leo will be able to remember without resorting to blackmail.

The schedule — reshuffled for the next few days, he’ll have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.

The photos — everything they have, even the embarrassing ones. He even managed a couple of prints, and one precious shot from their pre-apocalypse days, something for Leo to tuck into a pouch and carry with him, when they’re not around.

Raph, Mikey, Leo. He doesn’t think he’s missed anything. Donnie lets his head fall back, too exhausted to hold it up any longer.

Is it enough?

His mind stretches further out. He’s unraveling.

What about April? Her prescription is up to date, they just checked a month ago. She has the latest in his combat tech, which has kept her safe in the field this long, so he has no reason to think it will falter now. He’s leaving her a few extra pieces, since he won’t be able to use them anymore. Leo will find the time for a movie night once in a while, he’s certain, even if his taste in Jupiter Jim movies is horrendous. They still have coffee; he’d die before he let that particular supply run out. He will, actually.

Casey. Fuck, Donnie’s gonna miss his birthday. But he did plan for this, his protocols will kick in. The mask is finished, everything is in place. He’s reconfigured his workstations, fit them for a tiny human instead of a seven-foot turtle. Casey has a better head for mechanics than any of his brothers ever did. Kid likes to be useful, so Donnie’s left him as much use as he can. He’s taught him everything Casey can learn and left instructions for more, when he’s a little older and wiser. His family will take care of him, they’ll make sure he gets there.

The base. It has to hold, to give them somewhere safe. The infrastructure is sound, and they have people to manage repair work. Supplies are decent, the most critical items in stock, everything that can be made renewable is. Their allies — Leo handles interpersonal issues and leadership, but Donnie’s checked the list with a pragmatist’s eye, left notes and rankings for priority. Security is the largest concern, but he’s spent nearly half his time with his assistants since his self-diagnosis (he could have spent it with his family), running them through the programs and adjustments, trying to bring them up to somewhere in the realm of his own expertise (a fool’s errand, but still). They’ve been rigorously instructed, they understand that the little things like sleep are secondary concerns. It has to hold.

Is it enough? For them to be okay?

He’s done everything he can. He can’t do any more. So it has to be enough.

Donnie blinks, and for a moment isn’t certain his eyes will open again at the end of it. But they do. At least one more time, they obey him.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home. He rolls back through the list. It’s his last chance. He can’t miss anything.

Mikey’s hand tightens unconsciously around his wrist, fingers meeting easily on either side. Donnie feels only the echo of the pressure.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home.

Something bright sparks at the edges of his vision before it fades. The last gasps of a dying brain, he supposes. Synapses firing one last time before they’re snuffed out.

Raph.

Mikey.

Leo.

April.

Casey.

Home.

Light.

There’s light.

It hurts.

He thought dying would stop the pain, but it’s risen to a fever pitch instead. His brother’s arms are gone, but the disease wraps around him in their place, consumes him. It rages like a wildfire, burning through his center until pieces start to flake away like ash.

Oh, this is what it does, what it was built for. The Kraang could have killed him in a lot of different ways. He’d wondered why they chose this one.

He hasn’t planned for it. This is something he didn’t even know to fear.

It’s bright and it hurts but it’s quiet as he crumbles, folds in on himself like a black hole in the utter silence of outer space. It’s quiet enough that the voice that breaks through does so clear as a bell.

His head turns to follow the sound, instinct. He’s lost half his field of vision, but what’s left is enough. He looks, and finds Casey.

Casey looks at him, at him, not the body. Donnie opens his mouth to ask a question — What are you doing here? How? Why? — but something else sloughs out instead. Not blood. He doesn’t have that anymore.

Casey calls his name once more and starts running.

Donnie’s questions fold back into his mind. His mouth clicks shut, he swallows back the putrid rot and pushes himself up. His arms are shattered but they’ll have to hold him. They have to. Because Casey is here and he needs something, which means Donnie missed something, which means he isn’t done.

His spirit disagrees with him, doesn’t see the logic. His arms don’t hold.

Casey reaches to catch him as he falls, and the touch ruptures him instead. He scatters. Into the air and the ground and Casey. For a moment, he’s just pieces, fumbling around and latching onto anything that welcomes them, and Casey does that. They flow into him. They’re him. They’re…

He’s…

Casey, he’s…

Donatello pulls himself back together. Most of himself, anyway. The infection hasn’t followed him but the damage persists. He’s run through with cracks and crevices, shaking bits away into infinity with every movement. But there’s more of him here than not.

Unexpectedly, Donnie is not gone. He’s still dead, but that’s fine, he planned for that one.

Casey has him now. He wraps himself around Donnie in layers, helps hold him together with a kind of sheer will that makes up for any lack of mystic knowledge in spades. Casey asks him to stay, and Donnie takes up the task like Sisyphus sizing up the hill. This time, this time I’ll do it right.

Even better, Casey has taken him to another time, one where all of Donnie’s long-term plans are now completely-fucking-reasonable plans. Casey’s going to fix it, so Donnie can fix everything else. Whatever else needs it. He hasn’t really asked. And he knows he’s missed something, but he doesn’t think too hard about what, not yet.

First thing’s first: he needs a body.

It’s so simple to accomplish that it seems like the universe is mocking him. Just a quick 1-2-3, ticking off the list. It feels almost stupid, like running back through the early levels of a video game after unlocking all the ultimate weapons and burning through enemies and obstacles, laughing, shit, did I used to think this was hard?

In no time at all, his own face has formed in front of him.

In no time at all, he’s gasping.

It’s only been a few hours since he last breathed air, but he’s missed it.

Another thing he’s missed? Functional musculature. Casey slams into him and Donnie is startled to find that it doesn’t knock him over. His arms and legs look like actual limbs again, not fragile little sticks disguising themselves as such. He stands, dragging Casey along without a second thought. The weight barely registers. It’s amazing.

The power trip is heady, but it only lasts a few minutes before reality kicks it in the ass and pulls him back down to earth.

We lost, Casey says.

They’re dead, Casey says.

It wasn’t enough, Casey does not say, but Donnie hears it just as clearly.

All those plans, the preparations, the precautions and protocols, they only borrowed a year or two before they fell apart. He sees the timeline spiral out before him, tighter and tighter until it collapses in on itself, rendered all the more insignificant from his own point of perception. He was alive yesterday. His family is dead today.

Everything he did, it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. He was stupid to think otherwise.

(Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Casey’s still here. It was enough for him, at least.)

It cuts at him a little, to have been so wrong. But he’s strong again, now. He can take the wound. More importantly, he has another chance to get it right.

Donnie breathes. His chest expands smoothly, easily. The air doesn’t rattle in his lungs. He’s alive, he’s a genius, he can fix anything.

He pulls up a list.

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #Rise of the TMNT #fic I write #*looks at the word count* haha. anyway. i'm normal.#Donnie's expressions when he looks at his family one last time are so fuckin good they're so clear #I looked at him and I was like 'oh cool I can literally read his mind'#which may or may not be true (you tell me) but holy shit was it effective #(please @god let the formatting of this post hold)

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benedictscanvas · 5 months

Text

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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indulgentdaydream · 3 months

Note

Hello luv, first of all... I LOVE NURSE!READER!!! OH god the last lines were soooooo heartwarming for my social worker heart!! LOVE LOVE IT 🩷🩷

So, may I request a Jason x reader again but with a little something... Jealous Jason because reader and Roy know each other longer than Jay and reader and then he gets all jelly and and—! Oh god I love a jealous petty man.

Missy when she fucks up the queue and queues this post for NEXT YEAR by accident 🫣🙃 NEXT YEAR?? LIKE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED LAST FRIDAY AND I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE THAT IT DIDN'T GO UP

anyways AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH your words are already heartwarming ♥️

I loveeee jealous jason imma cook this up so quick just you wait and see (i wrote this when i first made the draft and i found it funny to leave it. It’s literally been a month I’m so sorry)

I also made this into headcanons because I had a VISION and did not think to give it any justice. (koi youre seriously my number 1 supporter i hope you enjoy this garbage I just threw up, really)

Pining!Jealous!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: slight jealousy (not too overly consuming), alcohol consumption

Roy had invited Jason to hang out at the bar

Bros being bros

except...

Roy brought you along (because he KNOWS Jason has got a fat crush on you whether or not he’s told him)

(He tried to convince roy it’s not a crush, but always fails because his whole demeanour changes when you walk in the room)

examples:

he's always going to be standing beside you, consciously or not

jason isn't always a tense guy. But he for sure isn't as long as you're talking to him/looking at him/etc. (but if you put your hand on his arm/touch him in any way, it's game over)

your name is brought up, he's listening SO INTENTLY

like a dog when it hears its favourite word

Anyways

The three of you are sitting in a booth

It was originally you and roy before jason showed up, the two of you on either side

Jason shows up and just sits right next to you. No hesitation.

You and roy are laughing away, recounting stories and telling jokes.

Jason is just... really quiet

unusually quiet

He doesn’t look at you guys, rather looking out across the bar, trying to hide the fact he’s feeling this way

That he's feeling unreasonably jealous of his best friend

who literally brought you FOR JASON

He knows it’s stupid. He trusts both of you. You two are the two people he trusts the MOST

He hates that he’s like this, but he can't help it

Roy's better than him. You've known him for longer. He's making you laugh harder than Jason ever has. He's better looking, too. Older. More experienced.

His thoughts are clogging up his head. He's really not listening anymore, just holding his beer, eyes scanning the bar floor, watching the other patrons.

Then Roy is standing in front of him, saying something about using the bathroom.

He is giving a VERY pointed look at Jason.

a "make conversation with your crush or I'm shoving an arrow down your throat" kind of look

Jason felt a little stab of genuine anxiety shoot through him.

He's talked to you alone before. Many times. You two were friends, of course. He doesn't know why this is how he's feeling right now.

Then your hand is resting on his forearm.

Poor boy is still so caught up in his head he just looks down at your hand for definitely a second too long before finally meeting your gaze

Your gaze with those stupidly pretty eyes.

Then comes that horrendously pretty voice, "You alright?"

He nods. Shrugs. Like a stupid teenager who doesn't know how to handle his emotions.

He has to admit he's still a little tense about your attention being focused more on Roy. But not to you. He'd never admit it to you. You'd probably find it unattractive and then he'd really never have a chance.

“Yeah, no, im enjoying the talking. Always forget how well you and roy know each other”

“Oh yeah he just knows how to get me going. You know how he is”

Jason doesn’t know how he does it.

Like some leap of faith.

Some, jealousy super-powered leap.

He tries to be non-chalant about it.

“It’d be nice to do this again sometime. Maybe without Roy around.”

BOY'S HEART IS POUNDING

Sipping on his beer, looking down at it instead to avoid eye contact with you so he doesn't lose his cool.

Or someone show on his face that he is actually shitting bricks

You don't respond for a second and the alarm bells start going off in his head

WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY-

"It would be nice," you say, "Could we make it a date instead?"

He's smiling, turning to nod at you, "Course we can."

But his internal dialogue is just straight screaming at himself

"IDIOT YOU SHOULD'VE MADE IT OBVIOUS YOU WANTED IT TO BE A DATE IN THE FIRST PLACE"

The things jealousy will make you do

Roy comes back and sits down

Jason's into the conversation now

It doesn't really matter that Roy is still making you laugh

because he's not the one holding your hand under the table

AH I HOPE YOU LIKE -missy

I also love a jealous petty man (as long as it doesn't become toxic and he doesn't use it as an excuse to be an asshole)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood #dc #dc x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #dc x you #dc x y/n #jason todd x y/n #jealous!jason todd x reader #jealous!jason todd #cw jealousy #cw alcohol consumption #missy writes

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spidercomics · 1 year

Text

wc: 1.096k

contents: jake sully x f!avatar/na'vi!reader, established relationship, pregnant!reader, creampie, breeding kink, unprotected sex, riding, m/f ejaculation, (use of she/her prounons once or twice!).

a/n: seen jake with a deserved breeding kink but not much smut with an actual pregnant mate and it couldn't leave my head, it was so much fluffier than i intended to make it, might have to make an alternate version with more dirty shit 😭 i kinda like this one tho!

jake was in love with you, everyone knew this. but right now? he felt as if he just saw you for the first time again. you had him smitten, flustered, feral — everything that came with being absolutely enraptured by someone.

you looked peaceful, sitting beneath the tree of souls, queue connected with the bioluminescent tendrils that link you directly with eywa. he heard your prayers of gratitude, how you thanked eywa for the healthy, precious child growing within you.

his child, your child.

he was forever in debt to the deity for blessing him with a second chance of life. jake believed his life was over, taken from him so young when he was shot. he survived, but to what cost? he lost everything on earth, leaving for pandora was a way out of the miserable life back home. he thought he was to die on the new planet, hearing the most vicious stories. turns out, it was more military propaganda. he got a new home, all those dreams of flying came true.

he never believed he would find a woman to spend his life with, have kids with. and here he was, a man who'd lost his legs, still running towards his most sacred place. you.

his hands running over your waist, arms wrapping around the skin and bones that protected his firstborn. mo'at thought they were having a son, and jake had the most perfect visual of how a mini-you would look. precious.

he hadn't startled you, his presence was always in the back of your head, you had felt him searching you down.

his hands were enveloping your body, holding you pressed against him for absolutely intimacy. the hormones during your pregnancy had been horrible at the start, anger and sadness was hard to deal with so often. but now? it was pure lust, and even if jake found your pregnant stomach, something he helped cause, incredibly attractive — he was terrified of hurting you. even if your body was stronger than ever right now, he still looked at you as if you've never been more fragile.

his hands traveled around your body, the warmth of his palms lighting a fire in your body, desperate for his attention. desperate to be put out.

and he had caved in, a man could only do so much when his wife was pregnant, round with a product of his love, and begging for him to do something about the heat between her thighs.

his fingers were stroking your spine, your hands perched on his strong chest as you sat on top of him, going up and down on his dick so slow, he thought he was going to explode. the position allowed him to go so deep, reaching places inside of you that had you squirming.

the urge to grab your hips and hold you still, eagerly fucking up into you was too much for jake, but he had to be patient. he was too focused on your tits, that had grown bigger, his fingers tenderly flicking your overly sensitive nipples, body shuddering. your stomach had grown significantly over the past weeks, hands running over the skin, fingers tracing the stretch marks on the sides. your hips, that had grown wider, sat so perfectly on top of his own, so easy to handle you around with.

he loved your body, always.

his hands helped you move, moving between your hips, ass and thighs, front and back — up and down. it was so slow, so deep, that he almost let out a hiss when you bounced up, his dick almost slipping out, tip right in your slit when you clenched around him. the night air was making everything so real, every drop of sweat felt cold. the warmth of your skin, your cunt, the only source of heat.

he was addicted, how did he think he could go months without this?

even as you layed down on him, chest against his own, hips dragging front and back, his dick pushing in and out, he was teased everytime you let him slip out to rub against you instead, catching your clit in the process. he pushed inside again, slowly hitting the spot that made you whimper and quiver.

his dick bottomed out, filling you to the brim, just like that fateful night where you'd ended up pregnant with his child. he'd fill you up again, breeding you as much as he had to to keep having you like this. raw, bare and open to him. it wasn't like anything else he'd ever experience.

"so good sweet girl," he would hold you so close, kisses peppering your forehead that was covered in a sheen of sweat, "so good, gonna fill you up again, keep you round and full for me forever, hmm?"

"please, jake, wanna feel you," he knew what you meant now, grabbing your braid, watching the protected tendrils connect with each other. you were so close, he could feel it now, the pressure building inside so tight. he felt every beat of your heart, of his heart, of his sons heart.

he felt your pain, the soreness of carrying a life around. he felt the pain of the pending orgasm, teetering on the edge, dancing around the sighs of relief that would come if the coil snapped.

"you're so good baby," his fingers traced over your spine again, "want me to take over?" he received a small hum, taking your hips into his big hands, he did what he wanted all this time, holding you still, his hips fucking up into your own, the familiar sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the area surrounded by trees. he felt himself so deep, he felt the hits of his dick tapping against your cervix, the pleasure you felt when he hit the spongy spot, making your vision blurry, ears blocking out all noise around you.

weeks without a release, you'd never been more happy when euphoria hit you, head in jake's neck, the scent of him bringing more pleasure than it should. jake felt your tight walls around him, sucking him in further as his own release came shortly after, small groans of ecstasy leaving his lips. this was so much better than getting off on his own, feeling his beautiful wife instead of imagining you. it could never compare.

he'd fill you up everyday if he'd have you forever, showing everybody you're his. he was so grateful for you, for his child, for his home. this was merely a dream a year ago.

now it was his reality.

#(➹) ─── my work.#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar: the way of water #avatar smut #atwow smut #avatar 2 smut #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake x reader #jake sully x reader smut #jake sully smut

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simpforboys · 1 year

Note

i think the population needs dilf era neteyam

au where he’s been appointed clan leader recently, and he’s like super massive now.

he comes home tired where his perfect childhood to lovers mate and son is waiting for him. and he decides he wants more

size kink/both of them having breeding kink 💀/dom neteee

sempu

sempu: daddy, dad

olo’eyktan!neteyam x fem!omatikaya!reader

summary: coming back from a hunting party, neteyam can’t help himself when he sees you with your son

warnings: smut!! breeding kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, piv sex, fingering, fluff ending, dom!neteyam, creampie, this is basically just shameless smut

aged up!neteyam. if you don’t like it, don’t interact with my writing.

neteyam’s eyes were threatening to close as he landed his green ikran.

he jumped off the banshee, disconnecting their queues as he pet the animal’s nose, dismissing the animal.

with neteyam being the new olo’eyktan, he was a bit stressed with all the new responsibilities.

especially since his brother didn’t make it any better.

“that was so cool!” lo’ak pat his brother’s shoulder, neteyam tiredly walking to where your tent was.

all he wanted to do was return back to you, his tsahìk, the love of his life.

neteyam rubbed his eyes as his braids swayed.

“goodnight, lo’ak.” neteyam dismissed his brother as he opened the door to your tent.

your back was facing the entrance as your tail gently swayed. you were humming a tune, bouncing your thigh gently.

neteyam placed his big hands on your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

he could now see you were breastfeeding your son, rukan. you leaned your head back, pushing your lips forward to signal you want a proper kiss from your mate.

neteyam pressed his lips to yours, feeling you smile against him. he pulled away within seconds, taking off his stomach wrap and necklace.

“how was the hunt, teyam?” you asked.

neteyam moved to sit next to you, rukan grabbing his dad’s finger in his small hand.

“it was okay- nothing too good but nothing too bad.”

neteyam’s eyes began to trace your motherly frame. during your pregnancy your hips grew fuller, arms thicker, and legs bigger.

with rukan being seven months old, you had mostly worried about taking care of your child rather than losing the extra weight, even though you were still pretty slim.

his eyes bulged as he saw your bare breasts. he’s seen them many times before, but they were bigger now. your nipples were larger, being able to give your child the nutrients he needed.

neteyam loved your body. loved how it pleased him, your baby, and most of all, yourself. you were truly the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, and it was always like that.

meeting at six years old, you two instantly clicked. mo’at instantly knew you were going to be tsahìk one day and took you under her wing.

you got along with the entire sully family, and neytiri would make bets with jake when you two would finally confess.

“are you done staring at my tits?” you smirked, seeing the growing bulge in your mate’s loincloth.

“i was not staring-“ he went to roll his eyes, his body flinching as you took your free hand and rubbed it gently across his inner thigh.

you traced the light lines that coated his body, goosebumps covering his skin.

“then what is this, hm?” you hummed, your finger softly grazing against his loincloth.

“y/n-“ he panted out, looking down at his sleeping son.

“put him in the bassinet, teyam.” you handed your son off to your mate, watching his tall frame gently put your baby in his woven crib.

his shoulders were broad as he stood at his full height, 8’10. his tail was wagging as you teasingly twirled it in your hand, causing your husband to let out a low growl.

“such a tease, hmm?” he hummed, now facing you.

you smirked up at him, leaning back on your hands as he hovered over you. his lips pressed harshly against yours, his hard cock rubbing against your thigh.

he connected his lips to yours once more, gently biting your bottom lip with his fangs. you pushed your hips up into his, desperate to get some friction.

“you’re gonna have to be quiet f’me, okay?” he told you, one of his hands holding him up as the other skillfully untied your loincloth.

you nodded, looking directly into your mate’s eyes as he teasingly ran his fingers across your pussy. he lifted his fingers, smirking when he saw how wet you were for him.

“all this for me, pretty girl?” his question was rhetorical as he brought his fingers to your lips.

you sucked on them, wishing he would touch you. he spread your knees out wider, leaving your drenched pussy exposed to him and him only.

once satisfied, he took his fingers out of your mouth and stuck them in your throbbing pussy.

you gasped out as neteyam put his hand against your mouth, looking at your son to see if he had woken.

his fingers were a brutal pace as he fucked them in and out of you, your hot breath fanning against his hand with every movement.

he put his mouth on your left nipple, sucking it delicately as it was sensitive. you were panting against his hand, pushing his head further into your chest.

your belly was tightening and you arched your back, desperate for an orgasm.

you and neteyam hadn’t had sex since before his ceremony. your pussy was tight against his fingers, the wetness allowing him to use them quickly.

“neteyam,” you gasped out, eyes rolling back to your head as you arched your back.

"c'mon, my girl." he was practically pleading for you to cum, desperate to stick his own cock in your pussy.

he felt you clenching against his fingers as he used his thumb to rub circles on your clit. he kissed you as you came, using his mouth to muffle your moans.

you recovered within seconds, your sex drive high as you began to palm at his aching cock. he began to thrust into your hand, the pleasure too good.

he finally regained himself and lifted up your leg, his cock driving itself into your pussy from the side. his face was next to yours as he nipped on your neck and collar bone, creating bite marks and hickies that would surely last for a few days.

you were fighting the urge to scream your mate's name. it didn't help when he brought his hand down to your clit, matching the rubs with his harsh thrusts.

"takin my cock so good, baby."

he was whispering filthy words into your ear, his hot breath making your skin erupt in goosebumps.

"gonna put another fucking baby in you, huh? you want that?"

you nodded quickly, too fucked out to respond properly. the pleasure was amazing, your husband hitting your cervix and rubbing your clit deliciously.

"yes, sempu (daddy). give us another baby." you mewled, your head resting on his broad shoulder as his hips snapped against yours.

he purred against your neck, biting thickly into your neck causing you to accidentally moan out.

"be a good girl and stay quiet," he snapped.

you covered your mouth with your hand, tears forming in your pretty eyes. he was kissing your cheek, his stomach and balls tightening.

"so fucking naughty... letting me fuck you dumb with our son next to us. he's gonna get a sibling soon with how good your pussy feels."

"daddy, i'm gonna cum..." you whimpered quietly.

"who's this cunt belong to?" he asked another rhetorical question.

"you! fuck neteyam, let me cum." you whined, your tail wrapping itself around his muscular thigh.

"come on, baby."

neteyam used his big hand to cover your mouth again, your pussy clenching around his big cock as you came. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, ears pointed downwards, with your body shaking.

you always looked so pretty when you came, and the feeling of you tightening around his dick sent him over the edge.

his cum painted your walls, shooting up into your cervix. he sank his teeth into your shoulder, quieting his whimpers.

"so good, so good." you praised your mate, pressing kisses to his jaw. his eyes were closed, head down, ears down as he came.

when he finally relaxed, he slipped his cock out of you. he took his fingers, watching the way his cum tried to spill out of your cunt. he pushed it back inside, your body too fucked out to care.

"mine." he said, mostly to himself.

you didn't respond, letting your husband clean himself and you up. he then checked on your son, the baby sleeping calmly in the crib.

"can't wait to have five."

"five?" you laughed, watching him lay down onto the little bed you two had set up. his head laid against your bare chest, big, strong arms wrapping around you.

"five is being generous. with how gorgeous my wife is, i say we can have at least ten."

you grinned, shaking your head at him as you pressed a kiss to his forehead. he purred against you, already half asleep.

only you got to see him like this, soft and gentle. with the clan, he was olo’eyktan, a strong warrior. but with you and his family, he was more relaxed. he was too hard on himself, wanting to live up to his father's legacy, toruk makto. but you would always reassure him that he was neteyam, not jake sully, and neteyam sully was the best man out there.

"nga yawne lu oer (i love you).”

"nga yawne lu oer, ma neteyam."

#simpforboys #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #neteyam sully smut #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam smut #avatar 2022 #avatar way of water #avatar neteyam

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: suicidal thoughts, pining possibly one sided, ANGST (just a large angst piece, i wanted some joel angst so I made it), description of depression, emotional dependency on a person, arguing, fluff sprinkled in, implied age gap not specified, reference to pregnancy, mentions of substance and alcohol abuse, joel is lowkey toxic and uses reader

a/n hi loves I wrote this after the first episode aired, so if anything contradicts anything in the future in this story that is why. also, i didnt know how to end it so im sorry if the ending is a bit choppy. happy last of us sunday!

summary Y/N has feelings for Joel that she can’t control anymore

Part 2 here

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 8 min 33 seconds

The harsh chill of the autumn afternoon swept your hair off your shoulders. The ration line was as long as ever, but seemed to be moving quickly. A stray dog barked as others murmured on the street. Staring down at your boots, you bit at your chapped lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me,”

His voice sent chills up your spine. He was behind you, must have slipped in line without the other person noticing. Of course now was the time he decided to confront you. And he wasn’t wrong.

Straightening your back, you turn towards him.

“Have I?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly. The line moved forward and so did you.

“Tess said you weren’t feeling well.”

She was partially right. It was the blatant lie you were telling the very few who were close to you. You were physically fine.

“I’m fine, Joel.” you said promptly, turning a cold shoulder to the older man.

“If you need any meds or anything…” he began. You knew Joel had anything you needed. Quite literally.

“Next!” The FEDRA soldier called, motioning for you to get in the final line. You gave Joel a tight lipped smile before disappearing in the crowd.

Back at your sad excuse for an apartment, you poked your fork at your stale meal. You tried to think about todays’s job but the thought of Joel Miller consumed you.

How his hands felt on your skin, how soft his hair could be, how much he respected you in private. Flashbacks of previous nights where he had snuck over and stayed with you burned in your brain.

You never thought the hookup would turn in to feelings. Especially in this world. Feelings you were sure he wouldn’t reciprocate. Joel wasn’t a very emotionally available man. And he had Tess- rumors of them being together had been going on for years. Sure, they deny it. But you see the way he looks at her sometimes. His eyes burn with the lust you want from him, but there staring at her.

Tess was friendly and all, you got along quite well with her in fact. Jobs worked with Tess usually went better than others. But the knowledge that she goes home to him every night almost ate you alive. You felt used every time you would watch her turn the alleyway to their apartment.

Roommates my ass.

It had been over a month since the last time you saw Joel.

He was right, you were avoiding him. Taking the jobs you knew he wouldn’t dare go by such as childcare. Taking a different route home to avoid any run ins. Leaving your lights off and sitting in the dark to possibly deter him away from your place. All your little queues worked.

And the pain grew day by day.

You layed in your mattress with your face buried in your pillow. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago, but you liked to pretend it still did.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Pills weren’t numbing enough. Alcohol wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The constant state of depression in this damned district was enough to make you want to end it.

But seeing him across the alleyway talking to a group of people or in the line for rations was enough to keep that tiny spark lit inside of you.

There wasn’t much else to look forward to in this world besides others. Living the same day your whole life is miserable without your spark of joy in it.

Sleep was close, you could feel it. Your thin blankets were just cutting it for the night. As the dreams began to dance in your head, you were awoken by a quiet knock on your door.

“For fucks sake,” you groaned, flipping over in bed. You ignored the knocks. They became more persistent.

The old doorknob then dropped to the floor, startling you awake. You didn’t even have to guess who it was. The door slowly creaked open as you heard him curse to himself.

“I’ll fix it later,” he sighed, picking it off your floor and placing it on your countertop. He pushed one of your folding chairs next to your table up against the door to keep it sturdy.

“So your just breaking into apartments now?” you snapped, sitting up right in bed. “I needed to see you.” he protested.

“I never knew Joel Miller to need anything.”

He sighed and rested against your countertop. “I need to know,”

“Know what?” you asked, wrapping a blanket around your exposed shoulders. A tank top wasn’t ideal to sleep in, in these conditions.

“What’s wrong.” he said bluntly. “I said there’s nothing wrong. What the hell are you doing walking around freely at night?” you yelled, realizing the time was way past midnight. The sounds of soldiers a few floors down outside your apartment began to yell. How did he move past them?

“You sick?” he asked in a more hushed tone, walking towards you. “Respiratory? Head pain? Joints? You pregnant?” he somewhat joked, looking over you in bed.

“Shut up.” you said coldly. “Can you please just go?”

You knew Joel wasn’t a good listener. “What is it?” he said sternly, sitting down next to your body in bed. He grabbed your wrist ever so slightly. Your pulse was shaking in his grasp.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You looked at the other side of your apartment, out the window. Rain had began to slowly plague the window. Ignoring Joel’s touch, you watched as the few drops raced to the bottom of the window.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” Joel sighed, not letting go of you.

“Stop, please. J-just stop talking to me.” you said, lying through your teeth. He could sense the pain hiding behind those eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he protested.

“Look at me.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were locked on yours. A genuine worried look was on his face. He looked softer, nothing like you had ever seen before.

It was almost as if someone asked you if you were okay when you were very obviously not. Silent tears rolled down your face as you tried to catch your breathe.

The man who you couldn’t love was staring in to your soul. There was no way you ever could love him. He was too mean, too stern, too old, too angry for you. The two of you were polar opposites. But as the saying goes, ‘opposites attract’.

Joel was unsure on what to do. Tess never cried. Hell, you never cried. He racked his brain for something, just something to soothe you.

He offered out a hand. Against your better judgement you took it. Connecting his other hand to your cheek, he tried to wipe away the streak of tears silently leaving your eyes. He held you tightly in your bed, stroking your hair as your head quickly made contact with the crook of his neck.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings,” you cried into his embrace. Joel was confused on what you were getting at, but he ignored it. He tried to shush you in a soothing way.

“No, please. I wish I didn’t have these feelings… but I do.”

Joel froze. “What?” he asked, holding you in place.

You pulled back and looked at him. It felt like the first time over again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel a thing.” you hiccupped.

“I…” Joel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and letting a breathe of air go.

“Say it.” you demanded.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“I can’t.” Joel said quickly. He looked down at his knees on your mattress.

“I think you should go.” you sighed, laying back on your side and facing the opposite wall.

He listened. Finally, Joel caught a hint. The sound of him walking away made you long for him more than ever. But it was good. The feeling of him leaving, knowing you were right. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who could love. At least not anymore.

Your sudden pride stopped when you heard his boots thud against the floor. Then the all familiar zip of his jeans followed by the hit of him placing them on your wooden chair next to your bed.

He rested a hand on your thigh as he peeled up the blanket that was stuck to your legs. Slowly, he moved down next to you in the tiny space you were leaving him.

“You don’t listen.” you huffed, still not giving him enough space on the bed.

“When do I ever?” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Fuck it. You gave in.

You allowed his arm to move closer to the underside of your breasts. Scooting over in bed, you gave him more space for his legs to entwine with you. His boxer’s material rubbed against the back of your thigh. It smelt like him; Wet grass and expired generic soap scent had never smelt better.

Sleep kindly greeted you once you felt his breathing slow. Trying to match his, you fell into the deep sleep you had been yearning for, for what seemed like weeks.

The absence in the morning was startling.

You struggled to move, hoping that the previous night was just a horrifying dream. A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw his boots sitting against the wall where he placed them last night.

The clanking sound of tools made you turn. On the other side of your small studio apartment, there he sat at your doorframe attempting to fix your door handle.

The overcast sky stayed, but you could tell it was early morning by the chatter outside.

“Shit!” Joel hissed, grabbing his finger in pain. “Damn fucking…”

He looked up and noticed you watching him.

“You alright?” you asked, watching him in amusement as he attempted to fix your door.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sucking the tip of his finger. “Haven’t fixed a door in a good twenty years.” he muttered, wiping off the excess blood on his already dirtied jeans.

“Go back to bed, It’s still early.” he suggested, going through the tiny tool kit he had given you as a previous gift.

“This is more entertaining than sleep,” you chuckled, placing your feet on the cold ground and getting out of bed. “You want any breakfast? I don’t know if I have anything good here but…”

“Nah. Tess’l be expecting me.”

The sheer thought of Tess waiting at their home for him was enough to ruin the whole night you had before.

Joel looked up to you after your lack of a response. He noticed the demeanor change in your face. “Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to the doorknob he was almost finished fixing.

“You seem to go sour every time I mention Tess.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered under your breathe, attempting to open a tuna can for breakfast. You tried not to dry heave as the scent of the old fish met your nose. Tuna was never a favorite meal, especially for breakfast. But, it’s all you had.

Joel pretended like he didn’t hear you, but he heard you loud and clear. “We have a run to do today. You understand that, right?”

A bitter ‘mhm’ came from your lips as you shook the prepackaged coffee in your hand before ripping off the seal.

Joel sighed and placed the screw driver down dramatically. Joel’s knees cracked as he got up from his position. “You always gotta fucking act jealous. Don’t you? Ruinin’ a nice morning.”

“Jealous?” you said, raising your voice.

“What the hell do you even want from me?” you scorned, on the brink of tears. He could see through you like glass. You hated to admit it, but he knew you like the back of his hand.

Joel wished he could shout out the answer, but his ego kept it in.

You froze with your back turned to him and set down the brittle coffee mug. “Your always leaving me to go to her…”

“Because we’re business partners, Y/N. Don’t you get it? Don’t you hate livin’ the same damn day over and over again? It’s why I come to see you.”

“Stop,” you whispered, now face to face with him. “Stop yelling. Please, it’s too fucking early to get into that shit.”

“Really? Tell me you don’t loose your mind living the same day, same drama for years!” he yelled. “Always you being jealous. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

Anger consumed you. Proof that the two of you would never work. He’s just a bitter old man.

“You know I would give anything to leave this damn QZ! To live a normal life, not fucking be here.” you yelled, with a finger now pointed at his face. You were avoiding the original accusation. Jealousy.

“Tell me.” you said, with a quieter but angrier tone. “Am I really just your fuck toy?”

Joel stepped back for a moment, stunned at what you just said. Guilt seemed to wrack his nerves as the realization hit him.

You were in love with him.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, approaching you with a sorrowful more soft look. “What else am I supposed to think? You come here, use me, and leave and go back to her.”

The feeling of letting go of all that emotion felt healing. The sudden aftermath of realizing what you just had accused him of made you feel somewhat guilty.

“No,” he sighed, grabbing your hand. “That- no. Absolutely not Y/N.”

His other hand reached for your chin, and brought your face up to his gaze. You could feel his heat on your skin.

“Understand…” he began to say. “Understand what?” you whispered back. A sly smile came to his lips.

“Give in,” he whispered, dropping your hand and wrapping his around your waist.

You melted into his grasp as he kissed you. Joel hadn’t kissed anyone in years. The hesitation from him only brought out the dominance in you.

As the two of you mutually pulled away, you wanted nothing more as to be back where you were just seconds ago.

“Understand that it’s hard.” he said, still holding you close. “I…”

“I know.” you said, cutting off his words.

You were an anxious, sorrowful over-thinker and he was the bitter, closed off introvert.

“I’ll be back,” he said, with a slighter more chipper tone. “Tonight. We have to get this damn car battery and…”

“Stay safe,”

“I promise.” Joel said. He really did not want to leave you. The thought of the two of you spending today lazily in bed was very tempting.

“But please believe me Y/N when I say, you are and never have been just a ‘fuck toy’.”

He squeezed your hand once more and then dropped it. Silence filled the apartment after he left.

The thought of how you tasted haunted Joel Miller’s mind the whole day.

Part 2

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

#peterparkersnose #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller headcanon #joel miller one shot #peterparkersnosework

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antiquarianfics · 9 months

Text

Slow Down

An object in motion stays in motion until acted upon by an outside force. In this case, you’re the object and Bucky is the outside force.

a/n: i’ve been so busy, so this is self indulgent. i work full time, am student teaching, and have my own classes. what’s a moment to breathe?

warnings: none! just your run of the mill unproofed comfort fic.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

It had been a busy few months. You had been sent on mission after mission, had to fill out paperwork galore, had to attend a government gala on behalf of the Avengers, and had to fit training in when you weren’t doing all that. So, yeah. Busy.

You’re tired. So tired. It’s the kind of tired that you start to get comfortable with. It seeps into your bones, enters your blood stream, and enters your lungs like oxygen. It becomes apart of you, and you become accustomed to the exhaustion, become able to operate on 4, 5 hours of sleep.

You’re so tired because you’re going so fast, doing so much. You aren’t even aware of how your relationships begin to suffer, how your health begins to suffer. In fact, you don’t even slow down enough to get your bearings until someone stops you.

“Woah, hey, slow down!” Bucky exclaims, his left hand reaching out to grab your bicep.

You skid to a stop, a few steps past Bucky. You turn around a little frazzled.

“Oh, hey, babe! Almost didn’t see you!” You quickly lean up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do have to go, though. I’ve gotta get a workout in before that press conference Fury organized.”

Bucky lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you close and trapping you in his arms.

“Doll, when was the last time you just took a second to breathe?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Bucky says a little indignantly, “you’ve been busy—really busy. You’re barely sleeping and I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down to eat anything in weeks. I miss you, and I’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out.”

You stare into his face, taking in the worry etched in his brow, the concern in his eyes, and the downturn of his lips.

Then, you take a moment to consider his words. You know you’ve been busy, but have you really not been sleeping? Eating? In fact, when was the last time you really sat down next to Bucky outside of a quinjet? You’re not sure, and when you realize as much, it’s like the glass wall breaks. You feel the exhaustion that had seeped into your bones, your blood, your breath. You feel yourself sag, falling into your boyfriend’s arms.

You let out a deep breath as a few stray tears begin to fall from your eyes. You don’t know what to say, but you know Bucky is right. You’re tired, running on fumes, and now that you’ve acknowledged it, you feel it.

“I’m so tired, Buck,” you admit as he pulls you close against his chest, arms wrapping around you protectively.

“I know, Doll. I know. You’re allowed to rest. You deserve to rest. You don’t have to do everything for everyone all the time,” he assures.

“How about I tell Fury we won’t be at the press conference? There’ll be enough Avengers there; they won’t miss us. And we can watch a movie and order a pizza.”

You nod.

“Yeah, ok. That sounds nice.”

So, you do just that. Bucky cancels your appointments and orders food. He takes you back to your room, lets you shower, gets some warm pajamas for you to change into, queues up the movie, and finally cuddles up next to you on your bed. The two of you just sit together, enjoying each other’s company, making comments about the movie and sharing anecdotes with one another for as long as you feel like. Finally, towards the end of the movie, you feel your eyelids begin to get heavy.

“Bucky?” You call tiredly.

Bucky hums in response, letting his fingers play gently with your hair.

“Thank you.”

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

ko-fi

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periprose · 10 months

Note

Okay I gotta request something JUST HEAR ME OUT

Black Cat!Reader trying to tell Tasm!Peter she's Black Cat while he tries to tell her that he's Spider-Man at the same time. Queue up Peter being baffled, while reader just doesn't believe him lol

Also I am loving Florence, it's so good and rich, I'm still only on chapter three but I want to kiss your Peter senseless- he's such a sweetheart🫶 Also I love youuu🥰

AHHH bby i love this idea and I love you!! (also thanks for the support on florence)

Secrets are difficult to reveal.

They're especially terrible when you're telling something so tumultuous to your best friend, something that could either make him judge you severely or run away from you.

How do you confess that you're a thief? An villain turned anti-hero?

Even worse, Peter is someone you really love. Someone you know is too good for you- he would never feel the same way. But that's why you have Spider-Man, right?

You always knew it wasn't always going to be fun and games to be Black Cat. To be the very symbol of bad luck- it's a bad premonition.

You stare in the mirror. Peter will be here any second- he always climbs up the fire escape into your apartment's bedroom, and you told him you had something important to say.

There's a knock at your window, and you turn a little too abruptly.

Peter watches from the outside. He has a tentative smile, but he can see that you're worried, and you make the conscious effort to relax your face.

Peter himself is worried. He's about to confess something very important to someone very near and dear to him- he's Spider-Man, and not just that- he's having a sort-of affair with Black Cat.

He doesn't even know how it happened. First she was stealing wealth from banks, then a few months later she came with him with the notion to be good, and Peter always believes in someone redeeming themselves... but that doesn't mean she had to be so goddamn hot, all black leather and white fur, and Peter's just a horny dude who could not help but kiss back when she made a move on him yesterday.

And it was hot, it was good for him to take out some very human emotions by making out with her, but it wasn't everything. It wasn't you, and now he feels incredibly guilty. So he wants to come clean. Peter wants to let you know the whole truth, and even if that means you'll never like him again- Peter will never act on his unspoken feelings for you- he knows you deserve to know.

"Hey." You let Peter in, and he immediately walks in with an air of anxiety, hands already shaking as he paces around. "You good?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Peter shakes his head immediately. "No, not really. We need to talk."

"Oh." You give him a look as you sit on your bed. "You have something to say, too?"

Peter nods, and you think it can't be nearly as bad as what you're going to tell him.

"Okay. Let me go first- I've been hiding something from you." He starts, but you shake your head. "I haven't been around."

"I haven't been around, Peter." You tilt your head at him. "I... I haven't been telling you the truth."

"Just wait. I'm trying to tell you something important." Peter insists, wanting you to know the truth but you keep going.

"I'm a bad person, Peter." You murmur, and Peter stops, interest piqued. "I've been misusing our friendship- you wouldn't want to be friends if you knew my past."

"No. That's not true." Peter sits down next to you on your bed, feeling that he should comfort you before potentially breaking your heart. "I'll always be your friend. Tell me what's going on."

"Don't sound so sure." You grimace at him. "I... I'm Black Cat."

"Huh?"

"I know, it's so terrible. I stopped with all the stealing and killing, but... I'm still not sure if my so-called good deeds are enough to forgive me." You lean over your legs. "I don't... I work with Spider-Man every now and then, too."

"But-" Peter tries to interject, and you keep going anyways. He's incredibly baffled- it's not that you don't match the size of Black Cat, it's just that he's sure he would've recognized your mouth under her mask. He's fantasized about your lips long enough.

"He kissed me yesterday." You admit, and for some reason it feels like a slap in the face to say, even if you know that Peter doesn't actually like you like that. "And I've always liked you, Peter, so I just have to get this off my chest, because I feel so terrible. I'm sorry."

Peter is snickering.

"What?" You shove him. "I'm trying to tell you about my actual, serious pain, Peter, and you're just laughing-"

He loves this. He can actually be with you, no questions asked, and you have to be Black Cat- who else would know that Spider-Man kissed you? Peter feels a little bad that you're clearly agonized about it still, and he is laughing, but he can't help it.

"I was trying to tell you the same thing." Peter shrugs, as you hang onto his every word. "Okay, not the same thing. But that I'm Spider-Man."

You raise your eyebrows. "Really?"

"What do you mean, really? What's so shocking?" Peter asks, somewhat affronted, still finding it funny. "Do I not look like I have Spider-Man's build?"

"No, no. It just... feels a little too convenient." You give him a pitiful glance. "Maybe you could prove it?"

"Wow." Peter shakes his head, stifling a small smile. "Why would I lie?"

"No, Peter, it's not that you would lie. It's just... it's too obvious of a happy ending for me, and I-" You wince. "I don't normally have those."

"Oh." Peter knows about your past, your unhappy origin story, and he doesn't want to say anything to negate that truth.

So he simply thwips out a web towards your desk, planting your water bottle against the wall, and you don't look too surprised, although you do inhale.

"So that means- I was working with- and you-" You try to make a coherent sentence. "We... we kissed?"

"Tell me if this feels the same." Peter murmurs, half jokingly, mostly serious, and he pulls your face up in the same way you remember he did yesterday.

Knowing that you were the one in that leather black suit with the white trimming stirs something more inside him- yeah, he loves you and he's so glad to have you here now- but it makes yesterday even hotter in hindsight.

No mask this time. Nothing to get in the way of you dragging your fingers through Peter's hair as he presses his lips against yours, not hesitant at all. His lips are firm, plying against yours, and he inhales in a way that screams that he's wanted to do this for a while- even if he kissed you a few days ago, it wasn't like this- and it has you understanding he doesn't want to be gentle. He wants to finish what he started.

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samaraannhan20 · 3 months

Text

Harry Styles Imagine: College AU! The Eras Tour

Warnings: college!reader, fem!reader, mentions of anxiety, age gap

September 2023

“Hey luv?” I hear Harry call out for me from the bedroom.

“What’s up?” I say as I walk in holding my laptop so I can continue the homework I had been working on.

“Do you still have a lot of homework to do?” he asks, and I look up from what I was doing and look at him, placing the laptop on the dresser and walking over to him, standing next to him as he sits at the edge of the bed.

“Um yes and no. Why?”

“I have a surprise for you, and I don’t think I can keep it a secret anymore,” he says, and I step in between his legs and rest my arms over his shoulders.

“What is it?” I say, and then lean forward and give him a kiss. “You know how I feel about surprises,” I say when I pull back and he laughs.

“Yes, to quote you ‘as long as you know every detail ahead of time you love surprises.’ They just can’t be blindfolded in the car with no idea what is happening,” he says laughing.

“Absolutely correct. I mean, I have really strong deduction skills, so usually even if I’m blindfolded in the car I can still figure it out, but then I feel bad and act as though I didn’t. As long as I know exactly what is happening at least a day prior to it happening it can be a surprise.”

“Right. Well this surprise is two months in advance, so hopefully that is plenty of time,” he says with a small laugh and I smile.

“Okay so gimme. Or tell me. Whichever applies in this situation,” I say, and he gently grabs my waist and pushes me back so he can stand up. He gives me a quick kiss and then turns us.

“You sit on the bed, and turn the tv on. I need to grab my phone so I can airplay this to the television,” he says, and I do what he said. I sit on the bed with my legs crossed under me, right at the end of the bed so I’m closer to the TV and grab the remote, turning it on. He walks back into the room right as I get it pulled up to the airplay screen, and connects his phone. All I can see is a black screen, so I look at him with a look of confusion.

“Are you ready?” he asks, and I smile.

“Babe, I’ve been ready. What is going on?”

“Okay so you know how at the Grammy’s I got to talk to Taylor for a little?” he asks, and I nod my head, remembering the conversation we had afterwards. “Okay well we talked a little about you, and I left that out when I first told you the story because with your school schedule I didn’t know if we could make anything work.”

“Make what work?” I ask him, grabbing his hand.

“Just wait. Anyway, I talked to her about you that night, told her all about you, told her how we met, how much I love you, all sorts of things like that,” he says, and my jaw drops.

“You told Taylor Swift about me? The Taylor Swift? Your ex-girlfriend Taylor Swift?” I say, a look of shock completely taking over my face.

“Yes. What other Taylor Swift is there? And why wouldn't I tell her? We may not be engaged yet but I do fully intend on marrying you,” he says, and then places a quick kiss on my lips before pulling back and continuing. “I also told her about how when she announced her tour you got all excited and waited in the ticketmaster queue and didn’t get any tickets and how sad you were, she had an idea. So I needed the airplay to show you the video I got from her, for you, the other day,” he says, and then takes my chin in his hand, and gently turns it towards the TV.

“Hey Y/N!” the video starts as the screen lights up and Taylor appears on the screen. “I’ve heard so much about you from that amazing man of yours! You chose a good man,” she says, and I turn to Harry really quick, just for him to point me back to the screen, causing me to turn back. “He texted me last week and told me he had worked out a day for you guys to come to a show. So you better start looking for an outfit, because on November 11th you will be coming to the Eras Tour in Buenos Aires!” she exlcaims in the video, and I look at Harry, only to be pointed towards the screen again. “Not only will you be here but I told Harry I could get you guys into the friends and family tent, and I have some more surprises for you when you get here. I am so excited to meet you!” she says, and then the video ends, and I just sit there staring at the screen in silence, unmoving.

“Luv?” Harry questions from next to me after I’ve been sitting there for probably a minute.

“Hm?” I hum, still not moving my eyes or turning my body from the blank screen in front of me.

“Are you… um… still with me?”

“I’m physically still here. My mind is blown though,” I say, finally turning my head to look at him. “I mean, you got your ex-girlfriend to not only give us tickets to her sold out show, but put us in her friends and family tent. I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”

“Y/N, are you jealous?” he asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yes and no. I’m half still in shock, and half jealous because she’s Taylor Swift, a famous popstar, and your ex, and I’m just… me,” I say, looking down at my hands.

“You don’t actually believe that do you?” he asks, taking my hands in one of his, and lifting my chin up with the other. “She may be my ex, and a popstar, but you are everything to me. You light up my sad days, you care about hearing about my days, how recording is going, how my family is. You are the person I want to come home to,” he says and then presses a quick kiss to my lips. “ Now, if this makes you uncomfortable and you don’t want to go I would complete-” he starts, and I cut him off, placing my hand over his mouth.

“Nope, we’re going. I’ve wanted this for so long. I just got a little jealous and insecure. I want to go and meet Taylor Swift. Can you imagine if we hit it off and become best friends? I’d be part of her crew and…” I keep going as Harry just laughs and pulls me in for a hug, placing a kiss on my forehead.

“There’s my girl,” he mutters as I continue jabbering on.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

October 2023

“I can’t believe you hired Lambert to put together era’s tour outfits for us,” I say as I stand in front of the garment bags that are hanging over our closet doors.

“It was stressing you out, and you needed to focus on school. It was nothing. Basically it was the same as the outfits for the last show on tour, just different outfits” he says, wrapping his arms around me and placing a kiss on the top of my head.

“So can I look yet?” I ask, toying with the zipper on the bag that has my name on it.

“Is your homework done?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“Yes it’s done. I wouldn’t be standing in the bedroom if it wasn’t. These garment bags have been teasing me since I got home and came in here to change,” I respond with a little eye roll, and he squeezes my waist before letting me go.

“Go ahead. Open that bag up,” he says, and I take the step it takes to reach the garment bag and yank the zipper down.

“Wow. Lambert really kills it every time,” I say as I reach out to touch the fabric of the dress.

“Yeha, ‘at’s why I keep hiring ‘im,” Harry says, and I laugh.

“Is there shoes that go with it?” I ask, turning back to Harry and walking towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Yes and no. He got a pair of shoes for you to wear with the outfit, but I thought you might like some shoes that were more comfy,” he says, and unwinds from me, before walking into the closet. “So I’m going to show you both options, and over the next month you can make the choice before we leave.”

“Babe, we both know I’m going to pretend like I want to wear the uncomfortable ones, but I will wind up wearing the comfy ones,” I say as he steps back into the bedroom.

“Exactly. Hence why you have two options. Okay, here are the uncomfortable ones,” he says, and holds out a shoebox. I take it from him and open it.

“Okay but these are really cute,” I say, putting the box on the bed and taking one of the boots out. “And they would go perfectly with the outfit. And they probably wouldn’t be that uncomfortable,” I say, and then slip it on. I slip the other one on and then stand up and walk around the room. “These aren’t so bad. They just feel like boots.”

“Well they are an option. Do you want to see the comfortable pair?”

“Have you met me?” I ask as I sit down on the edge of the bed and start to take the boots off. Right as I get the second one off Harry steps in front of me holding a box of Converse. “Ooh Converse,” I say as I take them out of his hand, and he laughs.

“I know you better than you think I do,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead before moving next to me and putting the boots back in the box as I take the Converse out.

“These also match perfectly!” I exclaim as I look at them. “Did you pick these or did Lamb pick them?”

“I picked these. Lambert sent me pictures before he finalized them, and I saw the shoes, so I went online and ordered you these because I knew they’d get here around the same time.”

“Babes I’m gonna be honest, these will definitely be the shoes I wind up wearing at the concert. However I’ll wear the boots on a date night or something,” I tell him, placing the box next to me and reaching out for him. “Can we go to bed now?” I ask, shoving both shoeboxes to the side and laying back.

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh. “But before that did you want to see the outfit he put together for me?” he asks, and I sit back up.

“Yes! I got so distracted that I forgot!” I exclaim, and he walks over to the closet, pulling the zipper on his garment bag down. “Midnights!” I exclaim, jumping up and walking over to him and his garment bag. “This is great! I would have put you in something 1989 style because… well… You know. But this is even better! It is so close to your style!”

“Well Lambert has been dressing me for years now, he would know my style,” he says, and I laugh. “He also said that he considered something 1989 style, but ultimately decided on this. And I’m wearing my pair of Satellite stompers from the Grammy’s.”

“It was a good choice. You’re gonna look great,” I say, and then grab his hand. “I would love to go to sleep now,” I say, and he laughs, allowing me to tug him to the bed with me.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️ November 10th, 2023

“This is so exciting!” I exclaim as we deboard our plane in Buenos Aires. “It’s so pretty here!”

“It is,” Harry replies, wrapping his arm around me as soon as we are both back on solid ground. “So, I have a question,” he says as we climb into the car that was waiting for us.

“Okay, hit me with it,” I say as I settle in next to him.

“Would you like to go to dinner with Taylor and Travis?” he asks, and I choke on the drink of water I had been taking.

“WhAt?” I ask once I can breathe again.

“Taylor invited us to dinner. Would you like to go?” he repeats, and I just gape at him.

“What?” I ask again, still in shock.

“I know you heard what I said and that you’re just in shock. So I’m just going to let you sit there in this,” he says with a smile, and leans over and places a kiss on my forehead. I sit there in silence, still shocked by the question for another few minutes.

“What time?” are the first two words I mutter after probably five minutes.

“Around 7:30,” he says, and I look at the time.

“Yeah I would like to go,” I say, looking at him.

“Are you sure? I know there’s a lot of things running through your mind right now. You can say no. I’ll understand, and so will they,” he says, and I smile and scoot closer to him on the bench seat.

“You know me so well. But yeah. I’m sure. It’s going to be amazing,” I tell him, and then press my lips to his.

A few hours later I’m standing in front of the mirror in our hotel room.

“I feel like this looks awful,” I say, running my hands over the dress I had put on for this dinner.

“You look amazing. And honestly, I have a feeling that Taylor will be wearing something similar,” Harry says, holding my satellite stompers from the last show up in the air.

“No, I feel like I should wear nice shoes,” I say, grabbing a pair of heels from the floor.

“Okay. If you think you’ll be comfortable,” he says, and I nod.

“I’ll be okay. It’s dinner. Mostly sitting anyway,” I say, and then sit on the edge of the bed to put them on. I slip them on, and then hold my foot out. “Will you buckle these?” I ask Harry, and he laughs, before kneeling on the floor and grabbing my foot. When he finishes buckling one shoe he drops my foot and taps my other leg, and I lift that foot towards him and he buckles that one as well.

“Wow,” I say when I stand up a moment later. “I forgot that in these shoes I’m almost as tall as you.” He laughs and tugs me to him, pulling me in for a kiss.

“Are you ready to go?” he asks when he releases me, and I laugh nervously.

“Yep. Let’s go,” I say, the nerves coming through my voice.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as we step into the elevator.

“What do you mean?” “I mean, you’re nervous and I want to make sure you’re okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him.

“I’m going to word vomit all my feelings on you, is that okay?” I say, looking up and into his eyes.

“Luv, o’ course it’s okay,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “You’ve been doing it since I met you. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Okay that’s sweet and you’re amazing. Here is all of my thoughts and feelings,” I say, and then pause and take a deep breath. “Okay, so, I know that since I am with you it has become more common for me to meet celebrities and I should not be this nervous. I’ve just looked up to her for as long as I can remember,” I pause for another breath as we step out of the elevator and start walking through the lobby of the hotel.

“I’ve listened to her music since I was 7. Her music is so important to me, and knowing I’m about to meet the person whose music I turn on anytime I need to feel comfort. And the work she does empowering women, and using her fame to help people understand who they’re voting for. Knowing that she also suffers from the fear of disappointing or upsetting people. She’s just so important to me and the idea of meeting her is so amazing and one of the few things I have wanted for so long, and yet I am so terrified. What if I word vomit at dinner?”

“Oh love,” he says, and stops walking, pulling me fully into him, wrapping his arms completely around me. “She is going to love you. You don’t need to worry about being anything other than yourself. You’re amazing as is. I am so excited for you to meet her, because I believe that you two could be good friends.” He presses another quick kiss to my forehead, and then takes my hand, leading the two of us out of the hotel to the waiting car. “Plus,” he says as he shuts the door behind him when we’re both in the car. “Who cares if you word vomit? Literally no one. It’s so adorable.”

“I’m 100 percent sure you are the only person in the world who thinks my word vomit is adorable,” I tell him, leaning into him on the seat. He laughs and takes my hands in his, gently rubbing them as we drive towards the restaurant.

“Hey, one thing I want to do for you before we go in, to help calm your nerves,” he says, and I close my eyes, knowing where he is going with this. “One thing you can taste.”

“The breath mint I popped in my mouth when we got in the car.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Clean car and your cologne. You smell amazing by the way,” I say, keeping my eyes closed but turning towards him with a smile. He laughs and presses a kiss to my forehead before continuing.

“Three things you can hear.”

“You breathing, the other cars on the road, the quiet music that is playing.”

“Good job. Four things you can feel.”

“The mint melting in my mouth. Your hands rubbing mine. The press of your leg on mine. Um, my eyelashes fluttering on my cheeks.”

“Okay, good job. Last one honey, open your eyes,” he says, and I open them, blinking fast to clear them up. “Five things you can see,” he says, and I lean into him.

“Your eyes. The inside of the car. The anchor on your arm. A car passing by. The necklace I gave you with a charm from my charm bracelet,” I say, and he pulls me in for a kiss as soon as I finish talking.

“You did amazing. Do you feel a bit better?” he asks, and I nod.

“Thank you. I love you,” I say, and he leans back in for another kiss.

“If it helps, I’m a little nervous too because I’m meeting my ex's new boyfriend, and having dinner with the two of them,” he says, and I just laugh and lay my head down on his chest.

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“Y/N, Harry said you were still in college. What are you studying?” Taylor asks about twenty minutes into our dinner.

“Oh, um music education and theatre,” I say, smiling at her.

“That’s so awesome! Are you wanting to teach music or theatre more?” she asks, and I laugh.

“Well it depends on what grade levels. Um, I would love to teach high school or middle school theater or speech, but if I were to teach music I would prefer to teach the younger grades, like kindergarten through fifth grade,” I respond, and Harry reaches out and places his hand over mine on the table.

“Whatever she winds up doing she will be amazing at though,” he says, and I laugh and shake my head.

“He’s just saying that,” I say, and Taylor waves her hand.

“No, I'm so sure you will do amazing,” she says, and I just shyly laugh in response. “Harry, are you working on anything new right now?” she asks, and I gently squeeze Harry’s hand and mouth a silent thank you to her.

“I have a few things in the works. Just enjoying the break right now though. I’m loving being able to be there for this one whenever she needs me,” he says, placing a gentle kiss in my hair.

“I have to say, I am so glad to see you so happy,” she says to him, and I flush. Travis takes the momentary silence to stand up and head towards the restroom.

“It’s nice to see you happy too,” Harry says, and I watch as Taylor’s smile slips a bit. “I mean hiding out for six years because of a guy isn’t really you,” he says, and I kick my leg into his.

“He doesn’t mean any offense,” I say, giving her a small smile.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I know he doesn’t. And he’s not really wrong. It wasn’t me, but I thought he was the one and I was hurting, so it seemed right at the time. But now…” she says, trailing off, looking in the direction Travis had gone. “Now I can see that it was all wrong,” she says, looking back at the two of us.

“I’ve had that feeling before,” Harry says, squeezing my hand. I lean over and press a kiss on his cheek, trying to hide the blush on my cheeks.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

November 11th, 2023

“Hazza?” I call out towards the bathroom in our hotel room, and I hear him walk towards me before he pops his head around the corner.

“Yes?”

“I’m ready to give you your bracelets, come here,” I say, reaching out for him. He playfully groans and walks over to me.

“How many of these are you putting on me?” he asks as I start to slip bracelets on his arms.

“Umm, enough,” I mutter as I slip another one on. He groans again, and then starts playing with the hem of my dress with his free hand.

“We look great,” he says, and I laugh.

“Yeah we do. When do we need to leave again?” I ask him, putting the last bracelet on his arm and letting it go.

“As soon as you are ready. The security will be waiting for us whenever we get there,” he says, and I turn to him.

“I’m ready. I just need to grab my bag,” I say, and go past him to leave the bathroom. “Oh and I wanted to take a picture.” I grab my bag and my phone, and then pull Harry over to one of the mirrors. I position him in front of it to take a picture of his outfit, before handing him my phone and having him take a picture of me and my outfit. We take a picture together, and then I take his hand and lead him to the door. “Is the car ready for us?” I ask as we head into the hallway. He nods his head and together we walk to the elevator.

“Are you nervous?” he asks as he holds my hand. “I can feel your hands shaking.”

“Yes and no. I'm buzzing with energy because I’m so excited, but I’m also nervous because I know there is some sort of surprise tonight but I don’t know what it is,” I tell him, and he nods. “Plus, she told us last night that Travis and her dad will be in the tent with us, and that made me even more nervous than I already was about the surprise tonight,” I tell him, and he laughs and shakes his head.

“Nothing to be nervous about. Dinner last night was amazing. You two really hit it off. She even gave you her number. There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about. .” He pulls me into him as we exit the elevator, keeping our heads down, because the paparazzi had learned we were in town the night before, when they caught the four of us leaving dinner last night.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Hey Travis!” I exclaim as we get into the friends and family tent

“Hey guys!” he responds. “Your outfits are great!”

“Oh thanks! Harry’s stylist took my ideas and really made them into great outfits,” I tell him, and he chuckles.

“Stylists are the best,” he says, making Harry and I also laugh. “Without them I’d probably walk into games dressed like… well, my brother,” he says with a laugh.

“Hey, I’ve seen social media posts here and there, he has his own style,” I respond with a laugh.

“His style is very dad-chic,” Scott pipes up, and all four of us crack up. “Hi, I’m Scott,” he says when we stop laughing, holding his hand out to me.

I take it and shake it saying, “Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I heard you are a big fan,” he says, and I look down at my feet, feeling my face flush.

“Yeah. Um, since I was like 7. This is so much better than I ever could have imagined. Not that I ever would have in my wildest dreams imagined this.”

“I hear you. It was a shock for our entire family when she first started becoming famous. Everything felt crazy and out of a dream. Still does sometimes,” he says and Harry nods.

“Same here. It’s especially surreal when you fall in love with someone who isn’t famous and you get to experience everything through their eyes for the first time again,” Harry says, looking down at me and wrapping his arm around my waist.

“I’ve never heard anyone explain it like that,” Travis says, and Harry laughs.

“I’m a songwriter. Coming up with new phrases is part of the job,” he says with a laugh, and everyone laughs right along with him.

“Ooh I met Taylor last night, but do you think I’ll get to meet Sabrina Carpenter tonight? We’re the same age. Well, she’s a year older, but still the same age.”

“We all get to go backstage after the show,” Scott says, and I jump up and down for a few seconds, before realizing who I am and where I am and what I am doing.

“Oh, sorry,” I mutter with a shy smile on my face, and the guys all laugh.

“Sweetie, you’re just so adorable,” Scott says, and I smile and look out at the stage. I go and stand right at the edge as Sabrina Carpenter starts her set, fully turning all of my attention to the stage. Harry comes and stands right behind me, gently resting his hands on my waist as I start to sing along with the music.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Babe this has been the best thing ever,” I whisper to Harry, standing on my tiptoes with my arms wrapped around his neck as we wait on the side with Travis and Scott during the last song. I feel him chuckle, before he takes my chin in his hand and guides my lips to his. I smile into the kiss, and pull away a lot sooner than either of us would have preferred, but we’re both aware that we have an audience. I turn back around in his arms, allowing him to wrap his around my waist again, and turn to look at the path Taylor will be walking down any moment. I look over at Travis who is waiting there with his hands behind his back and smile, tears welling up in my eyes. I watch as Taylor comes down the walkway, her pace turning into a sprint when she sees Travis, running right into his arms.

“Aw that’s so sweet,” I whisper as they kiss, and then after they pull apart we follow them into the tented area where no one can see us anymore, security trailing after us.

“So what did you think?” Taylor asks a few minutes later, after she’s drank almost an entire bottle of water and has managed to catch her breath.

“Taylor, it was so amazing. Thank you so much for inviting us,” I tell her, and she pulls me in for a hug.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. It’s such a rush being up there and performing every night. Something I’m sure Harry has told you about,” she says, glancing over at Harry.

“Oh yeah. I’ve heard a lot about it. But seeing you do it was just so insane.” She smiles and then glances around the room, with an arm still wrapped around my shoulder.

“Oh! I heard you wanted to meet Sabrina! She’s right over here, come with me,” she says, and begins tugging me towards a different area. She stops abruptly and turns back to Harry and Travis. “We’ll be right back,” she says, and they both laugh, and I do too. I allow her to tug me over to Sabrina, trying to control the shaking in my hands. “Sabrina!” she says when we get over there, and she turns to us.

“Hi Taylor! The show was amazing!”

“Thanks! So was your opening! Your closer gets better every night,” Taylor says with a laugh, and Sabrina laughs too. “Anyway, this is Y/N! She’s here with Harry, she’s his girlfriend.”

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you!” Sabrina says, with a little wave.

“It’s nice to meet you too!” I say, waving back. “I’m a big fan. When Emails I Can’t Send came out I felt like some of the songs were taken right from my brain,” I say, and she nods with a smile on her face.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it!” she says, and then looks over my shoulder towards where Harry and Travis are. “Wait. By Harry you meant Harry Styles?” she asks Taylor, a bit of shock in her voice.

“Yeah. We reconnected at the Grammy’s a couple of years ago, and then again this year, and he was telling me about Y/N, and how she’s a huge fan, and about to graduate college with a music and theater education degree. She was unable to get tickets because of ticketmaster, and I told him if there was a day where they could make it out for a show to just let me know and I would put them in the friends and family tent. This is the show they could make it to,” she explains, and Sabrina opens her mouth in shock, turning back to me.

“Okay, you have to tell me all about what it’s like to date Harry Styles. And how you guys met. And how college has been. I’ve always wondered what it was actually like and if it was like the movies and shows portray it. Actually, if you don’t have to leave right away, what if tomorrow you and I went out and got coffee?” she says, and I just kind of freeze.

“Really?” I ask, my voice quieter than it had been.

“Yeah! You seem super cool and like you could be a good friend!” she says, and pulls me in for a hug.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“That was the craziest weekend of my life,” I say to Harry as we step onto the plane a couple of days later.

“Yeah?” he says, motioning for me to hand him my carry on, and then taking it from me and placing it on one of the extra seats on the plane.

“Yeah! Sabrina Carpenter invited me out for coffee, I met Taylor Swift and she joined us, and I got both of their numbers and we’re planning out the next time we can get together. I handed out so many friendship bracelets to people who were fans of you and of Taylor. I met so many of your fans. It was so insane.”

“I love you so much,” he says, sitting down next to me and wrapping his arms around me. “I’m glad we were able to pull this off. And that now we can take the week off and go to see my family,” he says, and I smile.

“And my family is being flown out to meet us there. Sometimes, life feels like a dream,” I say, looking out the window.

“A good one, right?” Harry says, and I turn back to him with a huge smile on my face.

“The best dream ever,” I tell him, and then lean forward and press my lips to his.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles

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