#love like summer rain series

[officialjimmybuffett]

feel free to get elaborate in the tags

[theyellowhue]

no thoughts, head empty, just Phayu caving in the moment Rain called him daddy.

did Rain ever get around to do that summer reading? not that Phayu will let Rain fail academically anyways

[holyghostbelle]

Call the shots part two

Oliver quick x fem!reader

TW:DUBCON? DARK!OLIVER(it's literally him though so idk)slight reader x felix, but also oliver pinning over felix because no ones mentioning that??? reader and Oliver lowkey hate each other I guess, SMUT, ORAL(fem) (a/n, Thank you!!! thank you so much for the attention the last part received, I haven't written in forever and ever and salt burn just reeled me in like a fish. there's going to hopefully be a third part to this to end the lil series,/// wish men actually kissed like this gif 😔)

if you haven't read the first part to this click here!

my master list

The first time you had met Felix Catton you were eight, your first summer at the Saltburn estate and after meeting Venetia at an all girls private school you had been introduced to her older brother by one year. Felix was mesmerising, he was like a prophet, everyone loved him, and you felt yourself fall in love with him deeply, of course at first Venetia hated it, you were hers, you belonged to her. But years after spending summers while your own family spent summers in Venice and Paris for business you had become Felixs as well. No jealousy had become between either of them. You had lost your virginity to him, smoked your first cigarette with him, your first line of coke, your first shot. All of your firsts and now. 

None of your lasts.

The air was heavy with grief as the Cattons to give the farewell to their beloved. Tear-streaked faces and her eyes swollen, Elsebeth stands stoically, hands gripped with Venetias. The service wasn't beautiful, but nothing could live up to Felix.

You stand opposite Oliver, his face crumpled, gripping the white handkerchief from dinners ago. The room echoes with muted sobs, you stand in disbelief, the last you had seen Felix his gold wings loomed over you, and now they hung from his bed untouched.

His grave now laying in the estates graveyard, six feet under with people who he hadn't met, you run you hand over the temporary wooden cross, his bracelets hanging from the oak, you taste the tears on your cheeks and Venetia clutches at your arm, mascara running over her cheeks, just like yours.

It's raining and the Cattons and you throw Felix's rock in the river before returning to the house. Oliver stays behind and returns with muddy knees, his shirt see through. When Venetia excuses herself to her room that night, you find yourself wandering saltburn in the dark with a glass of deep red wine in your hand, all you can think about is Felix's swollen blue face lying in a pile of puke. There was no beauty in his death. 

Clad in a white night gown and Felix's jumper you find your self in his room.

It suffocates you with the smell of cigarettes and cologne. the smell of Felix prevalent in his sheets comforts you. closing your eyes you begin to believe he's still there.

Suddenly you hear a sloshing of water. Deciding that Oliver must be taking a bath you think to yourself, a few minutes go past and Oliver enters the room. He's clad in blue boxers and a red robe, you can hardly remember the timid boy with frameless glasses at the beginning of summer. Silently, you observe Oliver as he moves with a heaviness in his step.

“What are you doing in here?” you ask, you smooth down the covers with your hand, rings catching on a bare thread, the duvet is lumpy and you assume it's from the socks Felix would shed off in his sleep.

“I should ask you the same thing” He questions back.

“Felix was mine first, I saw you crying at the funeral. Like you had known him for years and it's been six months, pathetic really."

You stare at him as he bends to meet with you at eye level, he leans on to his knees with his hands as you turn from his glare. He feels the heat radiate from your cheeks. They're wet, his hand meets your face wiping the salty tears with the back of his hand, rough against your skin.

“Stop it, Stop it Oliver” you cry, your hand meets the small of his wrist pushing it away from your face. They fall to your lap, your gaze following.

And suddenly “Apologise to me” he orders, his thick fingers grip at your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You stare through your lashes, one eyebrow raised at him. 

“what? Sorry for what?” you question, your head tilts, hair following.

“Say sorry for being such a bitch to me, such a bad girl” he coos. His other hand stroking at the wetness of your face. 

And you whimper at him. It's so delicious, he feels himself harden.

His eyes darken, pulling his hand back. You begin to think he's going to leave but your face is smacked to the left. Heat rushing to your cheek. 

“ow, what the fuck Oliver” you clutch at it.

“I said apologise, tell me your so sorry for being a rude brat this summer, make me believe it”

“You're joking,” your eyes widen.

He grips at your chin again,you think it might bruise this time, and as your eyes meet you feel something you haven't felt in forever, fear. Your heart thumps against your chest.

“I'm so sorry that you think i’ve been a bitch to you this summer Oliver,” your chest heaves. Teeth gritting at him. 

Oliver, however, doesn't seem satisfied; his grip on your chin loosens only to be replaced by a vice-like hold on your hair.The room feels like a confined space, trapping you in a twisted dance.

“Again” he commands with venom. You feel the grip on your hair tighten and you are pulled back in submission, reminded of the bruise on your arm from him.

You hiss at him as he holds your head up by your hair. “ I'm sorry!” you sigh “im sorry ive been a rude bratty bitch, i'm really sorry” you comply and his hand once cruelly knotted in your hair loosens.

His head cocks to the side, cooing at your disgruntled face “ Got there in the end didn't we?” he smiles looking down upon the soft of your faces, smoothing your hair down.

You nod at him quickly, and your body stills, eyes flickering down, you refuse to hold gaze with him. He still stands above you. 

Lips trembling you stutter,“Venetia was right.” 

“Huh?” he interrogates, eyebrows rising, intriguing him.

"You really can make people do whatever you want," you murmur, a bitter realisation lingering in your words, the taste of  imbalance still fresh on your tongue. Oliver smirks, a perverse satisfaction radiates from his gaze upon your body. You squirm underneath him.

"Then kiss me," he commands, his tone laced with an arrogant confidence that sends shivers down your spine. It hangs in the air, an unspoken challenge that demands submission. He bends to meet you once again.

You push your morals aside. Leaning in and allowing your lips to meet his in a forced union. His hand cups around your neck and tightens as you murmur against his grip. He parts your knees with his own. The oak bed frame digging into the flesh of your thigh as he runs his cold hand against it. 

“Fuck” he grunts. Your breath catches as Oliver's grip tightens around your throat. In that moment, something shifts, and his lips crash onto yours. Oliver's lips mold against yours; it's cruel and leaves you breathless, but it's too harsh to feel like Felix, and the breathlessness makes you panic, not giddy. Oliver is every bit harsher than Felix and it reminds you of how fleeting of a memory he will be. His weight presses into you as you paw at his chest, mewling against him you breath against each other in open mouthed kisses , he licks up into your mouth, thumb pulling your bottom lip down and watching it bounce back in satisfaction he smirks as he peers down on your body hand gripping at your thighs you whine.

He pushes your white silk nightgown up over your hips revealing your pussy,  smiling to himself and dips a finger in your wetness.

‘Hate me and yet you're soaked’ he grins up to you, his cheeks just at your knees, eyes looking so sweet.

He bites and sucks into the succulent flesh of your thighs, you gasp as his lips meet your cunt and indulges himself in you. You mewl your juices dribbling down his chin and creating a wet trail on his face.

“Fucking slut, could Felix make you come?”he questions. 

You nod at him.

“how sweet, too bad ill fucking ruin him for you” his hands traces at your thighs wandering up to your hips,

“Actin’ all innocent under me now, i know what girls like you are like ,your a fucking tease is what you are”

He dives in once again and your hand grips at his hair, it's gotten longer. He's every bit rougher than Felix, choosing to pinch and suck rather than kiss. You gasp and whimper as he eats you like his last meal, hands tightening on his hair. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you moan, he smirks under your hold, hands grasping at your hips to pull you towards him, you hump at his face and he drinks you up like nectar, feeling the pressure build.

“Mmm, close Oli” you whine.

He goes everybit harder and faster than before, and you feel the pressure snap, you convulse under him. Moaning and overstimulated, you whimper as he laps you up.

 His head leaning against your thigh, he looks up at you, bright blue eyes smiling up at you. Realisation settles in.

"You alright?” he strokes the length of your arm. 

You look away from him, biting down on your lip before slipping the covers over your body, now cold in the ridiculously big house, he joins you in Felix's bed.

“yeah, no, I'm fine.” you smile at him. Laying down and turning your body away, you feel his hands snake around your waist, you close your eyes, you feel so dirty.

Guilt pools in your stomach.

The light filters through the dark curtains, a curse of being south facing. Oliver lies there cocking his head, you pull on the red robe, smoothing back your hair. as you scurry to the bathroom to wash your face. Hand on the golden door knob you hear something smashing to the marble floor. Your eyebrows furrow, the door swings open and the maid in front of you releases a guttural scream, the bathroom floor is filled with murky red water and your eyes meet hers. Venatias head floating out of the bath, her blood spilling over the bath. You fall backwards, hand clutching over your mouth, Oliver peeks his head round the corner, his eyes widened. You push the door closed. 

Eyes flickering to the floor. You swallow. “I think you should go back to your room Oliver.” your hand reaches out for his arm, “ i think it's best i tell Elsebeth”

He nods,you choke back tears. Flapping your hands over your face before calling an ambulance.

Oliver is gone, he left in the morning shortly after Venetias funeral, you assume James had paid him off. 

You pack your things, one week of summer left and then oxford university, you look into the room adjoining yours. Venetias, she won't be coming to Oxford with you and neither will Felix, you begin to wonder if you'll see Oliver and how best to avoid him, not wanting to get into the complications of things, hoping you would never run into him.

When your luggage is piled up by the main door, Elsebeth and James stand next to you, smiling. 

“You will join us for the ski trip this winter won't you, dear?”

You smile at her, head nodding “ Mum and Dad said they would be coming, i think it would be best if we all spend christmas together” 

James nods at you, “maybe we could share the chateau with you, there's loads of rooms” 

You smile “of course, i'll let them know, thank you for this summer, amid everything it was lovely” you hand clasps around Elsbeth's shoulder, but she pulls you in for a quick hug, James taking to patting you back. 

“Well, I'll message you how I get on at oxford. Gosh ten years have flown by havent they?”you laugh, eyes watering. “Well goodbye, I'll see you christmas.”

the next part

@callsignwidow (comment to be added to taglist)

[loveshotzz]

18+

summary: The rainy night Steve asks you to move in with him.

wc: 1k

warnings: fem!reader, older!steve, age gap (steve is 43, reader is 30), p in v sex, cream pie, slightly subby begging steve, slight breeding kink, mentions of drinking at dinner.

This blurb belongs to my series All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand alone. Just missed my favorite old man 🥺

Steve’s forehead is pressed to yours, sweat dripping off that one strand that just won’t stay back with a love drunk stare that threatens to swallow you whole. You almost get lost in the gold that still shimmers in the darkness of his blown out eyes, freshly done nails digging half crescent moons into the constellations on his shoulder blades. Your knees sit on either side of his hips, sticky skin clinging to the brown leather of his couch making every bounce on his lap threaten to rub them raw, but you could care less. Not when he’s looking at you like this.

The rain hits the sliding glass door of his backyard, beige curtains drawn hiding you both from the two day rain storm that’s kept you away from your apartment and mostly in his bed. One of his arms loops around your waist, holding you close from the small of your back.

Chest to chest, his coarse hairs tickle the soft skin of your breasts, long fingers digging into the plush curve of your hip. A palm as warm as the electric fireplace behind you cups the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles against the sensitive spot behind your ear he likes to kiss every morning.

Spearmint and whiskey from the drinks you had at dinner fill the space between you with every breath that fans against your lips. Sweet nothings said with drunken abandon, noses bumping with every thrust, the length of him stretching you in a way that has your eyes roll in the back of your head every time he meets the roll of your hips.

“If you think I’m letting you resign that lease this summer,” he breathes, somehow pulling you even closer, making him go deeper, whispering a sweet ‘I know’ when you whine before finishing his thought, “you’re crazy honey.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance outside, your walls fluttering around him in a way that makes him twitch inside of you, eyebrows marrying together when your fingers find their way into the silver and chestnut hair that curls at the nape of his neck.

“Tryin’ to keep me all to yourself huh?” You tease, the liquid courage helping you stay calm at the realization of what he was implying. A conversation you’ve both tiptoed around when five nights a week sleepovers between places became a regular thing.

His top lip catches on your bottom, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smirk before he steals a kiss that has you chasing his tongue with yours letting him take control. The grip on your waist tightens, stopping your movements while the roll of his hips becomes pointed in your undoing.

”God, yes baby, please.” He moans, perfect teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you tug on his roots, the tip of him teasing the spot that has you gasping his name, “I want you every day, please.”

The thumb behind your ear applies just enough pressure for you to turn your head to the side, letting him kiss a sloppy trail up your jaw, whispering ‘please’ after each one. Loosening his hold enough for you to grind your hips, you meet his thrusts in a way that has the hair on his pelvic bone catch your clit with the perfect pressure over and over again.

”Oh my god, Steve.” You gasp, pulling at his hair hard enough for his lips to meet yours again. Something a little smug behind them.

“Yeah?” His hot breath makes you shudder as you find just the right rhythm.

“Feels s’good, you always make me fuck -“ the buildup you’ve already had three times today returns like its the first time all over again, lashes tickling the tops of your cheeks.

“I know honey, I can feel it, you can give it to me, you know I want it.” He hums against your lips, the tip of his tongue teasing yours.

The hand on your hip snakes between your thighs, the pad of his thumb finding your clit, rubbing the kind of messy circles that has your legs start to shake.

”Wanna make you cum every day, please.” Grunting when the roll of your hips makes his toes curl against the hardwood floor, he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Tell me you’re gonna let me baby.” Steve practically whines and all you can do is nod because even every day doesn’t seem like enough.

What’s longer than forever?

“Cum inside me,” you whine, “I want it, god, I need it.”

The groan that rumbles from his chest at your request is enough to rival the thunder that gets close enough to shake the house, and the band that wound up tight enough to snap finally does just that, your cunt giving him no choice but to listen to you as you fall apart on his lap.

“Anything - anything you want.” He pants against your open mouth, twitching against your fluttering walls before spilling everything that’s left of him inside of you. The blunt ends of his nails dig into your hip keeping you close so you have to take every last bit, one day hoping you’ll want it to stick.

[hotgirlssupportlando]

one day x lando norris

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary of series: a series following one day of every summer from 2016 onwards in y/n’s and landos lives, exploring their friendship and love for one another. of course some angst and fights along the way in this rollercoaster of emotions. a friends to lovers, growing up together kind of thing. summary of this part: the start of y/n and landos friendship/crush. y/n is bored at the eurocup where a stranger (lando) is suggesting a betting game to make her interested in the sport (and him). wc: 1,2k notes: im too obsessed with one day atm so just had to write a story inspired by it!! it’s very modified tho, and i haven’t decided yet if it will have the same ending, don’t know if i can handle that haha! also pls ignore the charles pic, couldn't find a better atm. hmu if you have any requests for any of the years x part two here

summer of 2016

Red Bull Ring, Austria

”please y/n, you’re 16 years old, can’t you go elsewhere and entertain yourself, you’re getting a bit annoying now” y/n’s dad told her whilst he was trying to fix the broken car.

”ugh, sure i’ll go for a walk then” y/n sighed and went to go for a walk around the paddock hoping to see something more interesting than broken cars. her friends were jealous that y/n could tag along her father around europe all summer watching the eurocup formula renault 2.0, but she wasn’t very impressed. despite having a father working as a mechanic and utterly interested in motorsport she hadn’t inherited any interested in the sport what so ever. but at least she could escape england and the rain for some time so it felt like a win although she sometimes felt like dying from boredom. 

y/n walked around the paddock and decided to facetime her friend y/f/n.

”please come and save me, austria is so fucking boring and where the hell are all the cute guys i was waiting for??” y/n proclaimed. 

”omg y/n stop it, you’re always nagging about everything, you should be happy!! nothing happens here either so might as well be in another country doing the same” y/f/n said as y/n entered a tent where they served drinks and snacks. while she was ordering she noticed a curly haired boy shaking his head whilst smiling her way but she just continued her conversation with y/f/n. after enough discussion about the lack of interest y/n had for the sport and talking about y/f/n new crush y/n ended the call, sat down and opened her pepsi in front of her. it took about five milliseconds before the curly haired boy reappeared, this time in the seat in front of her. 

”hi” the boy squealed. 

”…hi?” y/n said questioning what he wanted, she weren’t exactly in the bestest of moods so to say. 

”i heard you hated the eurocup and that you think every guy is ugly here, so here i am to prove you otherwise” he said grinning. y/n chuckled at the way the boy seemed to have no time to waste in proving her wrong. 

”and how are you supposed to do that? do you have a masterplan?” y/n asked looking amused.

”glad you asked! well first of all here i am so now you’ve at least seen one cute boy around the paddock so there’s one problem solved an-” the boy was interrupted with y/n’s laugh. she couldn’t help herself from laughing but tried to gesticulate with her hand that he could continue. 

with a smile he proceeded to tell the girl about a betting game that could make her interested in watching the races. y/n was immediately down for the idea because honestly she could’ve done anything at this moment to have some fun. they had to come up with one condition each for the bet and agreed on saying them at the same time so no-one could back out. the curly haired boy betted that he would stand on the podium on today’s race and y/n betted that he wouldn’t, easy as that. now to the conditions. the boy apparently had his condition already planned out so y/n panicked trying to come up with one quickly too. she looked around her and went with the first random idea she got. 

”okay so we’ll say them on three?” y/n asked getting a nod for an answer.

”one.. two.. three” 

”you’ll buy me-” y/n started before getting interrupted.

”you’ll give me a kiss” the boy said with a cheeky smile. 

”…a pepsi. WHOA! you’re wasting no time mister” y/n laughed out after finding out the big differences in the conditions given. she was followed by a laughter from the boy too who was unsurprisingly very pleased with the bet. y/n wasn’t disappointed either, the boy was indeed quite cute for being a driver but she couldn’t let him know that. imagine the hubris he would get then, in comparison what he already had. 

the pair shook hands and locked in the bet. they decided to meet up after the race either at the podium or at his team, depending on how the race went. y/n was excited and almost felt a little butterfly in her stomach getting loose. 

”see you later then…” the boy hesitated realizing he hadn’t asked her name.

”y/n l/n, and yours was?” she asked.

”lando norris, but there’s no need to remember that, you will see the name on the top of the podium later” he chuckled walking away to his team. 

y/n could only smile and shake her head while walking away too. 

—

”and lando norris takes his fourth victory in this seasons eurocup!!” the presenter shouts excitingly. 

y/n was smiling so big her dad had to check up on her, how she immediately had watched a whole race after watching exactly zero of them up until now this summer. y/n had no time to explain to him what was going on and started to run along the paddock until she reached the podium. she was so excited and nervous that she was about to burst, it was hard to believe that she was developing some kind of a crush to this random driver. 

because she had little to none sense of direction the celebration at the podium was already done and dusted when she reached it. a bit disappointed and confused she looked around to see if she could see lando somewhere. there was surprisingly many people running around here.

”looking for someone?” a familiar voice said and y/n turned around. there he was, a happy lando holding a trophy in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. she smiled and congratulated him partly for the victory and partly because he somehow got her interest in the sport for once. 

”i know it’s not nearly as good as a pepsi but you can have my flowers as a consolation prize” he said handing them to her. she took the flowers and admired them with a smile feeling her butterflies about to let loose. she collected some courage and looked up at his eyes before quickly looking at his lips and crashing onto them. the kiss took lando a bit with surprise but he was quick to answer it. with the hand not holding the trophy lando gently grabbed the back of y/n’s head, slowly deepening the kiss. the butterflies were officially out and about in y/n’s stomach. she tried so hard to hide the excitement but at the end she couldn’t resist smiling and therefore accidentally ending the kiss. slowly they pulled away from each other, leaving them both with blushing smiles on their lips. they looked at each other in silence for a moment before abruptly getting interrupted.

”lando! we’re taking pictures! come here now!” a member of his team shouted.

”well i guess i have to go then.. hope i’ll see you around” lando shyly told the girl.

”i hope so too” y/n stated not knowing the rollercoaster of joys and troubles they’d share in the future as friends and lovers. 

—

notes: feel free to give feedback and requests for future parts! x

[prncessrindou]

SWV, ran haitani x fem!reader // fic series

I LOVE IT RAINING ON ME

I LOVE IT WHEN YOU’RE TOUCHING ON ME

IT’S LIKE WATER . . . OH NO, DON’T DROWN

♱ SYNOPSIS . . your innocence is what drives him to you and he is determined to make you his, but are you willing to sacrifice your morals for one of Japan’s most dangerous executive?

♱ CONTENT WARNING . . bonten timeline, female reader, virgin!reader, age gap ( reader is in their 20s and ran is in his early 30s ) criminal/gang activity, nsfw/smut ( lots of it ), drug use, violence, jealousy, sexual harassment, guns, alcohol usage, car sex, oral ( f & m rec ), pet names and etc.

♱ INSPIRATION . . summer walker ft. no1 noah

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

MORE TBA . . .

comment if you’d like to be tagged in this!!!

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 2

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, heartbreak, break ups, jealousy, mentions of cheating, mean!Nancy, King!Steve, no upside down

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: After the breakup you try to go on with your life but it's harder than you thought, especially when you have to see him with her everyday.

Word count: 6.9k

Notes: The upside down doesn't exist here. All the older teens are 18 & 18+

series masterlist

prologue | part one

-

He drags himself through the streets of Hawkins. The wind is harsh and the thin jacket that you threw back at him after you had followed him down your driveway, does little to shield him from the cold autumn wind. The rain is falling and the darkened sky forecasts the storm that is heading to this town. The leaves are falling, stripping the trees from the colorfulness. 

A frown is stretched across his face, his shoulders are slumped, wet strands of hair are hanging in front of his eyes, he doesn’t bother to push them away, he doesn’t even bother to hurry and get home faster to shield himself from the rain and the storm that comes closer and closer. 

He didn’t drive to your place the way he usually would, today he walked. 

His heart is aching in an unfamiliar way, it’s something he had never felt before. He can’t identify this feeling, he doesn’t understand what it is. He just knows that he feels bad for what he did to you. He always felt bad about the way he treated you but he never changed, not for you. 

He rarely ever gave you good moments to remember, yet you only held onto those. You didn’t care about the way he was treating you. You didn’t care that he looked at other girls or even flirted with them. You didn’t care that he forgot dates or even ditched you to hang out with Tommy instead. You didn’t care that he only gave you weekends.

The flowers he gave you, the little presents here and there, the I love you’s, the kisses in the rain, the few soft moments were enough for you. You loved him, no matter what. You loved him on his good days and on his bad days. He can’t do the same for you. He can’t love you, not the way you love him. 

He walks back into his house, not caring about the rain that soaked through his clothes, making it cling to his skin uncomfortably. He feels awful, he felt that way all night after you walked away from him. It was the first Friday night without you and it felt.. wrong. You always stayed over on weekends, his bedroom felt empty and lonely without you. 

After kicking his wet shoes off and throwing the soaked jacket on the ground, he drags himself upstairs and towards his bedroom. He eyes his bed, the one he slept with you in, the one he kissed you in, the one he held you in. The picture on his nightstand makes the ache even worse– you in your cheer uniform and him in his basketball uniform after a game, his arm is wrapped around your waist, you are both looking at each other with big smiles on your faces. Your green scrunchie is laying on his nightstand, along with a bottle of your favorite perfume. Your clothes are in his closet, your magazines and favorite books are laying around. 

Where does Nancy fit into all of this? 

This is so wrong, so so wrong but Steve doesn’t realize it fully yet. 

For a moment, he lets himself feel. He sits down on his bed with a heavy sigh, he reaches for your scrunchie, holding it in the palm of his hand, he stares at it. He remembers the night you stayed over at his place for the first time, when you just started dating. You were nervous and shy as though it was the first time alone with him– it wasn’t. You have known each other since you were little kids, your mom’s have been friends since their days at high school, they have even gone to summer camps together and are friends to this day. You and Steve have been around each other since, well, always. Whenever your mom’s would have ‘girls nights’, the two of you would hang out in yours or his room, listening to music or watching movies together. You were friends before you became more than that. He has yet to realize what he actually lost. 

The first time you stayed over, he walked into his room after giving you privacy to get changed. You were sitting on his bed when he walked back in, in nothing but one of his big shirts, your hair was open, your face free of any makeup. You looked so beautiful, he remembers the way his breath got caught in his throat, the way you blushed when he stared at you for a long time before speaking up. He remembers the way he sat down behind you and gathered your hair with his hands and pulled it into a low ponytail before he kissed your neck softly. 

He doesn’t feel the smile tugging at his lips at that memory. 

He looks at the picture on his nightstand, he reaches for it. The smile on your face so different from the look on your face he saw earlier– the tears in your eyes, the quivering lips, the sadness and the pain in your features. Steve stops breathing for a moment, a sinking feeling takes place in his chest and stomach. 

What did he do? 

He looks up and looks around his room with a weird feeling in his chest. The energy in his room is off, he can feel it now. He looks at his desk, books and papers are laying messily on the table. He remembers studying for a science test with you on his lap, for every right answer he got a kiss from you. He looks over to his bathroom, the door is wide open, he stares at the sink and thinks about the way you used to brush your teeth together in the mornings after you had stayed over.  

The moment those memories start to flood back, he shuts them out. He throws the scrunchie on his bed and gets up, he leaves the room and comes back with an empty box, moments later. He fills it with all the things that belong to you, everything that you have left behind goes into that box, which then goes into the back of his closet. He can’t get rid of it but he can’t give these things back to you either. It’s over but he just can’t give it back. 

He can’t let go. 

He can’t let you go, not yet. 

Not even when he ends up calling her after putting your things into the very back of his closet. Not even when he takes her out on their first date later that night. Not even when he kisses her when he drops her off again– ignoring the way it feels so wrong to feel someone else’s lips on his, ignoring the way it feels like he is betraying you.

-

Sunday morning. No arms are wrapped around you, no kisses are left on your shoulder, no ‘good morning’ whispers. You wake up to an empty bed, goosebumps arise on your skin when the cold wind touches your bare arms, you left the window open for him but he didn’t come, of course he didn't, what were you thinking? That he would climb through your window, apologize for what he did and beg for forgiveness? Did you really think that he would do that? You didn’t but you had hoped that he would. 

You lay in your cold bed, beneath the sheets that do nothing to comfort you. You look around your messy room, it feels so lonely. The house feels lonely without him here. Your mom is rarely ever home, too many shifts at the station keep her out of the house most of the time but Sunday mornings are always spent at home. 

The weather matches your mood, it’s raining harder than the day before and thunder rumbles in the sky. Tears well up in your eyes when your mind takes you back to him. How will you keep going? Your life turned upside down in the span of a few days, you lost him– not only your boyfriend but also your childhood friend. You lost both. He threw it all away, he threw you away like you never meant anything to him. 

A sob rises up in your throat, the ache in your chest is so fresh and it hurts so bad. It makes you want to rip your heart out of your chest to get rid of all this pain. 

You hear dishes clattering in the kitchen. You’re excited to see her so despite the pain and the sadness in your chest, you sit up and drag yourself out of your bed, using the bathroom and freshening up before you make your way downstairs. The smell of coffee lingers in the air, bringing a sense of comfort to you. The radio is on, if you leave me now is playing– how ironic. You roll your eyes and bite back your tears as you walk into the kitchen. Your mom is standing in front of the window, a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand and a magazine in the other. She is wearing her workout clothes, she must have been on her morning run already.

You swallow, blinking a few times to make your eyes look less glassy. 

“Good morning, mom.” 

You quickly turn towards the coffee pot before she turns around, reaching for the orange mug. You miss the look of surprise on her face when she sees you up so early. 

“Good morning, sweetie.” 

She places her magazine on the counter, leaning against it, she presses the mug to her chest and watches you. You pour some sugar and milk into your coffee, stirring it slowly with the silver spoon, not glancing at her just yet. 

“What are you doing up so early?” 

Is it early? You didn’t even check the time when you got up. A glance at the clock on the wall tells you that it’s 8am. Great. You only slept for two hours. 

“I went to sleep early last night,” you lie and take a sip of your coffee. You turn your back to her and walk towards the kitchen table. You can feel her eyes on you. Maybe it was a mistake to come downstairs already, you are not ready to tell her about what happened. 

She grabs the magazine again and joins you at the table. 

“No date night last night?” She teases you, not knowing that this is enough for you to tear up again, “is Steve still sleeping? I bought those bagels he likes so much.”

Your bottom lip quivers and your eyes well up with tears. 

You and Steve always spent Sunday mornings sitting at the kitchen table with your mom, eating breakfast, drinking coffee and talking for hours. Sometimes Steve’s mom, Lauren would come over as well– now it’s all over. 

You shake your head slowly, staring at the dark liquid inside your favorite mug, “n-no.” 

She doesn’t have to look at your face to know that something is off, the way you are sitting with your shoulders slumped is more than enough for her to figure out that you are not feeling well. She furrows her brows and leans forward. 

“What happened, y/n?” 

You press your lips together, blinking rapidly, as though it will stop the tears from falling. You look up at her through your bangs, tears continuing to well up. Your hands are shaking and it takes everything in you not to break down.

Her eyes flash with realization, she raises her brows and sighs. Her gaze softens and she instantly reaches out to grab your hand, “oh y/n.” 

She doesn’t need words or an explanation to know what happened. The look on your face, the tears in your eyes are enough. She knows it all too well. 

You break down in front of her, not caring about holding the tears in any longer. She hugs you tightly, runs her fingers through your hair and comforts you as best as she can but it does little to make you feel better. The pain is just too fresh. 

How will you keep going? You ask yourself again. Steve had been there all your life, ever since you were little kids, he was there. He was always there and now you just have to accept that he is gone? That you have lost your boyfriend and your best friend? That he fell for another girl and left you for her? That you weren’t enough? That he never loved you when he said he did? 

What if you never crossed that line with him? What if you just stayed friends? What if you saw through him from the start? 

There are so many what if’s running through your mind, so many questions, though you don’t have any answers for them. 

There are so many things that you don’t understand. How could he say I love you when he never meant it? I love you under the moonlight, I love you between kisses, I love you during classes, I love you before he hung up the phone, I love you before going to bed, before leaving your house, before parting ways at school. So many I love you’s, so many lies. How could he touch you and still sleep with you when she was already on his mind? Did he think about her when he was with you? 

You hope he didn’t but that hope dies when you see him a day later, walking down the hallway with a smile on his face, hand in hand with another girl. After only two days of being without you, he is already with her, looking happier than ever. It tears a gasp out of you, it makes you stare at him in shock and with tears in your eyes as he looks right at you. 

Curious eyes, shocked faces and hushed whispers.

Steve swallows nervously, he puts on a brave face. He can see the look in your eyes, the tears, the pain, the shock when your eyes move over to her. Nancy Wheeler. She is holding his hand tightly, looking around shyly when she notices all the stares. Her hand feels different from yours. 

All eyes are on the new couple but his eyes are on you. He watches the way your face goes from shock to pain to betrayal to disappointment. Questions run through your mind, he can tell by the look on your face. He can tell by the way your eyes flash with confusion when they meet his again. How could you? You were mine last week and now you are already hers? Were you ever mine? 

Uncertainty fills him the longer he stares at you.

This was the right decision, right? 

You stare at him for what feels like forever. Time slows and it’s just the two of you in this hallway. He forgets about all the people staring at him, he forgets about her. For a moment, it’s only you and him. Tears that he would have kissed away in other circumstances threaten to fall down your cheeks but you don’t let them. You force them away and blink rapidly. You are suffering because of him. He knows it and it makes his heart sink to his stomach. 

He forces himself to look away from you. He forces himself to look at her. Though his eyes itch to glance at you when he hears your locker shutting and your footsteps echoing through the crowded hallway as you hurry out of the school. You brush past him, the smell of your perfume invades his senses. 

He wants to turn around but he doesn’t. 

-

You knew this would happen, you knew you would break down the moment you would see him. The mention of his name was enough to make you cry but seeing him with her after he just broke up with you was too much. 

You didn’t want to run away, you didn’t want to break down but you couldn’t help it. The moment you saw him with her, a wave of nausea fell over you, you had to get out so you ran out of the school with your backpack in hand and your jacket in the other. You ran to the back of the school, the place where all the stoners– no one is here now, you are grateful for that. 

You throw your backpack on the ground and sit down, leaning your back against the wall, you pull your knees up to your chest, still biting back a sob as tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You are supposed to meet up with Heather and Chrissy at the library but you don’t feel like going back in there and quite frankly, you don’t want to see the pitiful looks in their eyes. 

You lean your elbows on your knees and cup your cheeks as you stare into blank space. 

You don’t understand, how can he be with her after not even a week? 

Was he with her all this time already?

Did he cheat on you? He must have.

The smell of smoke fills the air and the sound of footsteps follow but you don’t bother looking up, hoping that it’s just some random student. Luck isn’t on your side though, it never is. 

You see his boots first, glancing up a little, you see the denim jacket and smell his cologne. The usual eye roll that he would get from you is missing. He doesn’t say anything, instead he blows smoke into the air and sits down next to you. 

You sniffle quietly, hiding your face by looking down. 

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Billy asks, “cause you know I will.” 

You shake your head. 

He sighs, placing the cigarette between his lips, he turns his head to look at you. Tears roll down your cheeks, the wind blows through your hair, exposing your face a little. You are quiet as you let yourself cry, in front of him. You never thought that you would ever cry in front of Billy, out of all people but right now, you couldn't care less.

“You know, I always thought you were too good for him.” 

You want to scoff and roll your eyes but you don’t have the energy to, not today. 

“That’s bullshit,” you mumble. You know what type of man Billy is, he is just like Steve– if not worse. 

“No, it’s not,” he chuckles, “I might not be the guy you want to hear this from but you deserve better than fucking King Steve. There’s plenty of other guys for a pretty girl like you.”

“That’s not helping,” you mumble. Raising your head to look at him, you expect him to stare at you with a smirk on his face or amusement in his eyes but you find neither. His face is straight, his eyes are filled with– you don’t know what his eyes are filled with, he is hard to read. You don’t see any pity and that’s good enough for you. 

He shrugs and continues to smoke his cigarette. 

You turn away from him again and lean your head against the wall. You look up at the sky and watch the clouds move. 

“I saw them together two weeks ago.” 

You look back at him, watching him through your blurry vision, “w-where?” 

He takes his last drag of the cigarette before he throws it on the ground, he blows the smoke out into the air and turns back to you. 

“At the diner, they were in his car and,” he pauses when he sees the fresh tears in your eyes. 

“And?” You ask. 

Your heart is racing, fear settles in the pit of your stomach. Does it even matter anymore, what he did with her? He left you for her already, it shouldn’t matter anymore but it does. 

He blinks, looking away, he feels a sense of pity for you. Billy doesn’t know what it’s like to get his heart broken this way but he knows what it’s like to be left. 

“They kissed.”

Despite everything that happened, despite the things he told you already. These words still feel like a stab to your heart. Your eyes drop, your shoulders slump and a heavy sigh falls from your lips. 

“Oh..” 

Two weeks ago. He called you after he went to the diner to ‘study’ with her to say goodnight the way he always did but that night was the first time he hung up without saying I love you.

You want to run again. You blink rapidly, wanting the tears to be gone. You get up and grab your stuff, ignoring the weight of his eyes on you. You want to run and get away from everything including yourself.

“Where are you going?” 

You shrug. 

Where are you going? You don't know where you should go.

Billy gets up as well, reaching for your wrist to keep you from running away. You look down at his hand before you look up and into his eyes with a frown on your face. He holds his car keys up, “wanna get out of here?” 

Billy is not someone you want to spend the day with but Steve is now the last person you want to see. You are desperate to get away and you would leave with just about anyone if that means that it will keep you away from him and her.

“Okay.” 

-

Who could’ve ever prepared you for such pain? Absolutely no one– not the many heartbreaking books you’ve read, not the relationships you have watched falling apart, not even your mother’s heartbreak when your father left could have prepared you for the pain that you have been going through since he left you. It should be getting better by now, right? But it doesn’t, if anything, it keeps getting worse and worse. 

Everywhere you go, you see him, everywhere you look, you get reminded of him, memories follow you every way you turn to. He cursed you with love, pain and heartbreak and you despise him for it, you despise the way he shattered your fragile little heart, the way he broke every promise he ever made, the way he never loved you when he told you he did. 

‘I-I’m not even sure if I ever loved you, y/n. I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I did love you, right?’ Those words haunt you, they haunt you day and night, when you wake up in the bed you used to sleep with him in, when you get ready in the bathroom, staring at your reflection, thinking about a time when he would come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, when you walk down the stairs only to think about all the times he would walk through the front door with freshly picked flowers, your favorite ones. Those words haunt you at school, when every place you turn to is nothing but a reminder of him, when you see him with her. They even haunt you in your sleep and there is nothing you can do about it. 

Curious and confused glances were thrown your and Steve’s way after the breakup, whispers in the locker rooms, bathrooms and hallways– you heard them all. You weren’t the only one shocked about Steve’s actions, everyone else was too. 

A month of torture had passed and you know that it’s far from over. No matter what you do, no matter who you are with, you can’t stop thinking about him, you can’t stop hurting, you can’t stop crying every time you think of him, you can’t stop tearing up every time you see him. This morning you had walked in on them kissing in the bathroom, her back was pressed against the wall, his hands were on her waist, he was kissing her hungrily. Neither of them saw you, you left just as quick as you came. It ruined your day before it even started. 

Will this ever end? This pain, this heartbreak? 

Your knees are pulled to your chest, your eyes are closed, your chin resting on your knees. You should be at cheer practice, instead you are crying your eyes out on the cold bathroom floor. 

The door opens and two different voices fill the silence in the bathroom, ones you instantly recognize. 

“I just don’t get why you’re so mad–”

“You promised that we’d leave together but you just ditched me because you wanted to lose your stupid virginity to King Steve, who’s by the way, a huge asshole,” Barb grumbles, “I bet it wasn’t even worth it.”

“I-It was! And he’s not an asshole!” You hear Nancy exclaim, “he’s sweet a-and it was.. nice. And it’s not like something happened to you, you got home safe, didn’t you?” 

Your eyes snap open, you place your hand over your lips. Your heart leaps to your throat and your stomach clenches uncomfortably. 

So he didn’t sleep with her while he was still with you. It does little to comfort you, it still makes you feel sick to know that he is with her, that he is so happy while you still cry yourself to sleep every night. 

Does he hold her afterwards? He never held you after you had sex– maybe once or twice on nights where you had felt sad, he traced your skin, drawing stars around the scars that only he got to see. Does he kiss her afterwards? He never kissed you, most of the time he only pecked your forehead and then he would turn away from you. Does he fall asleep afterwards or does he actually bother to take care of her the way he never took care of you? 

“Right,” Barb scoffs, “well, don’t be surprised when he leaves you for another virgin.”

Virgin. Is that what he wanted? Another virgin, another notch on his belt? A new thing to brag about? 

“Why are you so mean?” Nancy mumbles. 

“I’m not mean, I’m just telling the truth, he seems to be moving on quickly– he was just dating y/n and now he’s with you, like he wasn’t in a long term relationship.” 

You hear Nancy shuffling around the bathroom, placing her bag on the floor, followed by a loud sigh. 

“I mean, it wasn’t love.” 

You raise your eyebrows and clench your jaw. Anger fills you and pain tugs at your heart. You know it wasn’t love for him but it still hurts you to hear those words. Does he talk to her about you? Does he laugh about what he once knew love to be now that he has her, the girl he actually loves? 

“It wasn’t love?” Barb asks, laughing at her friend's words, “I don’t know about you but they seemed pretty in love to me.” 

“Well, he wasn’t in love with her– I mean, he dated her because that was expected of him, right? She’s the popular cheerleader, the pretty rich girl,” she says mockingly, “those have nothing in their brains and they’re pretty boring too so.. It was all just for show, I-I mean, do you really think he wanted her for her? I’m pretty sure that she’s already onto the next guy anyway, girls like her are–”

“Whoa that’s mean, Nance.” 

Yeah, these words are mean for someone who looks so sweet and innocent. You don’t know whether to laugh or to walk out and slam her stupid face into the mirror. You have been holding yourself back from confrontations, not wanting to reveal how hurt and angry you really are about the breakup and about her stealing from you. 

“It’s the truth! Steve told me that Billy Hargrove was after her since he moved here this summer.”

“What does that have to do with her being ‘easy’? He’s after her? So? Half of the school would die for a chance with her, that doesn’t make her easy, it’s not like she’s after them– besides, even if she was, she’s single and free to do whatever she wants. She wasn’t the one who went after other people while she was still in a relationship unlike your boyfriend. The only easy one here is Steve– seriously, stop being so mean, you got what you wanted, what else do you want?” 

That’s what you ask yourself as well, what else does she want?

You push yourself up and smooth down your skirt but before you can leave the stall and make your presence known to them, their footsteps echo through the bathroom, the door opens and they leave without realizing that you were there. 

Sighing, you slump against the wall and look up at the ceiling. You never really cared about Nancy Wheeler, you never had anything to do with her. You didn’t mind her, not even when you saw the way she looked at Steve while he was still yours, her big and innocent eyes trained on the King. She always batted her eyelashes at him, giggled at his stupid jokes and it drove him crazy, he loved it, the attention he got from another girl. She wasn’t the first one who looked at him that way, who touched his arm and giggled at his jokes but she was the first one who managed to steal his attention away from you. 

She was the first one who made him doubt his feelings for you. 

And he let it all happen and it angers you because you feel like a fool for loving him despite the things he put you through. He will never be yours again and you will never be his again, you know it and yet it’s still such a hard thing to grasp. It’s only been a few weeks without him, yet it feels like a lifetime.

You know you have to let him go. 

You kept holding onto him, hoping that he would come back because you thought you knew that he would come back but he won’t and he never will. He looks happy with her, happier than he ever looked with you and no matter how much it hurts, you let him go and you get rid of every part of him that you kept holding onto.

The sweater that he left behind in your bedroom, the collection of polaroids in the shoebox under your bed. The necklace he gave you on your sixteenth birthday. The bottle of cologne that he left on your dresser. The ring he put on your finger– a promise ring. You throw it all away, not letting the memories get to you this time. You push them all out, you force them all out of your mind. 

You let him go. 

-

Steve Harrington stopped existing in your life. Days and weeks have passed since the day he left you and it’s as though he became a ghost in your life. You stopped looking at him, you stopped acknowledging his presence– whenever you walk past him in the hallways, you pretend to not see him, when you’re in the same class, you never spare a single glance at him, not even when you have to walk past him to get to your seat, when you’re both at basketball games and you have to cheer him and his team on, you look at everyone but at him and it bothers him. It bothers him to see you acting like he doesn’t exist to you, like he’s not even there, like he’s invisible. 

He doesn’t understand what the feeling in his chest is every time he sees you– odd. It feels odd to see you walk past him without stopping by his locker to steal a kiss– he did this, he caused this. He didn’t want you anymore. He wanted her and now he has her but why does he feel like the worst person alive? Why does he feel so unhappy when he finally has what he wants? 

“Steve?” 

You stop in front of your locker, opening it, you look at yourself in the tiny mirror you put into your locker– you look beautiful, the way you always do. Your hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, you’ve got your cheer uniform on like always, a cardigan that looks way too big on you hangs loosely on your form, it reminds him of the way his big sweaters would look on you. 

He wonders if you still think about him. He wonders if you still hate him for what he did to you almost two months back. He wonders if you would curse him out if he came over to talk. He wonders if–

“Steve!” 

Nancy tugs on his hand and says his name a little louder, pulling him out of his thoughts and forcing him to tear his eyes away from you. He blinks, furrowing his brows as he looks down at her. 

“Yeah, what is it?” 

“Are you… okay?” She asks, giving him a small smile. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he looks back at you again, “yeah, I’m okay.” 

“What are you doing tonight?” Nancy asks.

He shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought we could watch a movie or something.”

“Oh uh, about that,” Nancy starts, looking around, she doesn’t even notice the way he looks at you, “I have this thing–”

Steve frowns, though it’s not because of his girlfriend’s words but because of the man approaching you. 

“Thing?” Steve mumbles. 

“Yeah, I’m working on this project with Jonathan and we gotta get it done before christmas break, so..” 

“Oh, yeah that’s fine,” Steve says without really thinking about her words. His attention is elsewhere. 

Billy Hargrove. 

Steve had always hated him. He moved here this summer and left an amazing impression the first time he met him. Billy had set his eyes on you the moment he stepped into Hawkins. 

Every party you and Steve had gone to together, ended with you arguing because of Billy Hargrove– well more so because of himself and his jealousy, because he couldn’t contain it, because he was too insecure, because he saw the way he looked at you, like he knew that he would get you eventually, like he knew that he would get you to leave him. 

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong.

Maybe his insecurities got the best of him. 

Maybe things would have been different if he wasn’t so jealous all the time. 

“Hey uh– I’m meeting Barb at the library, I gotta go,” Nancy says before she grabs his chin and pulls him in for a short kiss. 

Steve forces a smile onto his face and pecks her lips once more before he lets her go. He watches her leave and waves at her when she turns around to flash him another smile. When she is gone, he turns back to you. 

Billy’s hand is resting on the locker next to yours, the usual smirk on his face is wide as he eyes you up and down. You don’t seem too happy about his presence though, rolling your eyes at whatever he is saying to you. Billy leans even closer to you and you don’t hesitate to push him away from you, you sigh, he can tell by the way your lips part and the way your chest rises. You press your fingertips against his chest to keep him away from you, saying something to him that Steve can’t make out from afar before you turn around and leave. Billy doesn’t even look fazed, if anything, he smirks even more and tilts his head, licking his lips as he stares at your legs. 

Steve rolls his eyes, still hating the way Billy looks at you. He shuts his locker and walks into the same direction you walked to. It’s the last class of the day, the one he shares with you; English class. 

You are already in your seat when Steve walks into the classroom. The seat next to yours is empty, it still is ever since he moved. You are looking down at your notebook, a pencil tugged between your lips as your other hand is propped against your cheek. He looks away and makes his way over to his new usual seat when he realizes that it’s already taken by Tommy Hagan who looks at him with a smirk on his face. His girlfriend, Carol is chewing her gum obnoxiously as she sports the same smirk as her boyfriend. Steve clenches his jaw in anger, irritation sparks inside of him. 

These two have been making his school days more unbearable than before ever since his fallout with Tommy. 

“There’s a free seat,” Carol smirks as she points to the seat next to yours, “the queen looks pretty lonely without her king, don’t you think?” 

Tommy chuckles, “yeah, don’t worry we won’t tell your mistress.” 

Steve scoffs at their words, rolling his eyes, he looks around the classroom. The seat next to yours is indeed the only free one. Fuck. He shakes his head and turns away, begrudgingly making his way over to his old seat. He glances at you when he throws his books on the table. 

You don’t acknowledge his presence but you freeze when he sits down next to you. You pause what you are doing, clenching your hand into a fist and taking deep breaths. Steve notices it all– he wonders if you are angry or nervous. 

He leans back in his seat and turns around to look at his old friends who are already giggling. He glares at them and turns back around, hoping that this lesson will go by quickly. 

He tries to keep his eyes off of you but he keeps glancing at you every few seconds or so. He notices something, it’s a small detail but he notices it, the eyeshadow on your eyelids has been replaced by black eyeliner, that must make your eyes look brighter– if you just looked at him, he would know. 

His mom asks about you all the time, he felt bad when he had to tell her that he broke up with you, he felt even worse when he had to tell her about his new girlfriend. She wasn’t too excited to meet her. His mom adores you. He doesn’t remember the last time she saw you. He doesn’t even remember the last time he saw you out of school. You started skipping cheer practice, you stopped coming to games even though it is your job to do so as the cheer captain, you have slowly started to give that title over to your friend, Chrissy. Some days you even came to school with your regular clothes, ditching the cheer outfit for a pair of jeans and a sweater. 

He wonders how you are feeling. 

He wonders what you do in your free time now. 

He wonders if you still listen to the same music. 

He wonders if–

“You’ll be working on this assignment in pairs.”

“Do we get to choose our partner?” Carol asks with a smirk on her face. 

Panic fills Steve’s chest when he stares at the teacher. He missed the whole class because he was staring at you.

“No,” Mrs. Jones says with a straight face, “not after the last time. You work with your seat partner. You got a little over a week, so–” she pauses as she takes a look at the calendar on her wall, “you will get to finish it just in time before Christmas break.” 

Steve drowns out the rest of her words, he swallows nervously as he looks over at you. His palms get sweaty and his heart begins to race in his chest. 

You are not giving any reactions, you pretend to be unbothered by this whole situation. When the bell rings and everyone gets up to leave the classroom, you get up and gather your books. 

Steve runs his hand through his hair and looks around before his eyes find you again. He speaks your name with uncertainty in his voice. 

“Don’t bother, Harrington. I’ll write the assignment myself, not that you’d be much of a help anyways,” you mumble, coldly. 

This is the first time you have said anything to him in weeks, you didn’t even bother to look at him. You didn’t even bother to wait for him to say something. You turned around and left without sparing a single glance. 

“Y/n!” He calls out to you but you are already gone. 

Sighing, he slumps back into his seat, not caring about the many eyes on him. 

“Aw,” Carol coos with a smug look on her face, “cute, the lovers will reunite again. Isn’t that how you met Nancy?” 

Tommy chuckles, throwing his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, he looks down at Steve, “yeah,” he nods, “don’t think that King Steve will get his queen back though,” he chuckles. 

Carol’s eyes flash with amusement, “right, last time I checked she was screwing around with Billy,” she says. Giggling when she sees the shocked look on Steve’s face, “oops, you didn’t know?” 

She pouts at him, “guess your fear was valid after all, I mean that’s what you were always afraid of, right? That he would steal your girl?” 

Steve swallows harshly, he feels like he has been punched. You are sleeping with Billy? The guy you always told him not to worry about? The guy that caused all his jealousy?

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Tommy laughs, “it’s just sex, damaged girls like her just wanna be fucked," he says before he turns around with a chuckle, he and Carol leave before Steve gets to say anything back.

A bitter taste lays on his tongue, he leans back in his seat, staring down at the hair tie around his wrist.

He can't believe it, he can't believe you.

-

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Rainy Season - Part 2

What You Gonna Do?

Azriel x Reader

A short follow up to Rainy Season since you all have been so gracious with your responses - Initially I planned a time jump for part 2 but decided to give a taste of the aftermath of her leaving. Things will eventually look up for our girl, she’s just going through it right now. Stay tuned for more! I’ve decided to make this a short series.

Part 1 Part 3

Warnings: cheating, language

Azriel

Who wakes you when the morning comes?

Azriel awoke to rays filling the room with brightness. Shit - he’d overslept. Why hadn’t Y/N woken him? He looked over to find the bed cold, as if it had been vacant for hours.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he wandered to the kitchen, lacking its welcoming aroma of fresh coffee and the sweet and savory aromas of pastries and bacon. No, it was totally empty.

Where was she?

“Y/N?” He groggily called out into the house.

Silence.

Slipping on a pair of pajama pants he wandered to the door. The chill of the house whipping against his bare, muscled abdomen.

Perhaps she was basking in the sunlight on the patio. He always loved how she looked in the morning rays - a deity in her own right. He should probably tell her that sometime.

Padding to the front door, two things caught his attention.

One, his clothes were strewn over top of his bag and two, a note was scrawled in her messy handwriting.

No - not a note. A list of rhetorical questions.

“Who wakes you when the morning comes?

Who gives you all she has to give?

Who fulfills all her promises?

Who sees the good in you?

What are you gonna do when I’m gone?

Where you gonna go when there’s nobody home?

Who’s gonna love you when you’re all alone?”

He dropped his head. Fuck - things were good last night. What happened? As he bent back down to clear up the strewn undergarments, the strong, sweet scent of Elain wafting into his nostrils.

No - those questions were not rhetorical. They were a plea. “Who?” Who is that person to him?

Clutching his chest he realized just how terrible a mistake he’d made when he fucked Elain.

—————

Y/N

The warm rays of the Summer Court and the overwhelming weight of crushing heartbreak greeted me bright and early. A mockery to the pouring rain I’d traveled through last night, showing up at my grandmother’s door like a drowned rat.

Instead of chastising me for how long it had been since I’d paid her a visit, her brown eyes only met me with compassion. She knew me well and every ounce of pain on my face spoke the words that I couldn’t get out.

She pulled me into a bone crushing hug, ran a hot bath and steeped a pot of tea before laying in bed behind me and running her fingers through my hair until my heaving sobs turned to shuddering breaths and eventually a deep sleep.

It was a strange feeling. It had been too long since I’d seen her and yet, she showed me more love and compassion in a span of three hours than I had in the last three years.

Thank the gods the rays woke me early as I had to make it to the palace in Adriata immediately.

“Leaving me so soon?” Grandmother asked as I hurried out the door. “Sorry! I promise I’ll be back before lunch.”

I’d only met Tarquin a handful of times but sensed that he was a kind, benevolent ruler. Still, I expected to meet with his officials before being granted access to his office but when he’d heard who was here to see him, he immediately made time for me.

By the end of our meeting, he’d granted me renewed citizenship in the Summer Court and wrote to Rhysand effectively barring Azriel from his court. Careful to not create tensions in the court, he revoked the current ban on Cassian so long as he could keep himself from destroying any more buildings within his court.

Despite my numb state, a small smile flickered across my face as I imagined Cassian’s reaction to the news. He wasn’t one to hold petty grudges but he certainly clung on to that of being banned from the Summer Court. I just hoped he wouldn’t be angry with me for leaving without saying goodbye.

Additionally, Tarquin discussed my skill set with me and by the end of the meeting I had been offered a paid position in teaching self-defense courses within the palace to a variety of age groups, primarily focusing on women and children. I brought few assets with me upon leaving the Night Court and my pride was too stubborn to withdraw any of the money from Azriel and I’s shared account when I left. No, I could do well enough on my own - thank you very much.

After the battle of Adriata, Tarquin had ramped up efforts of ensuring his citizens were better protected on all fronts so his offer was mutually beneficial for his court and me, ergo not solely extended out of pity. My pride beamed at that.

I gratefully accepted his offer.

—————

I returned home. Home? No, not home - to my grandmother’s house to find that my sister and nephew were there waiting for me.

“Oh my gods!!!!!” My sister Camila yelped. Practically tackling me.

“Gran! You didn’t tell me that Y/N was coming for lunch. You secretive old thing.”

Before he could say anything I swooped my nephew, Alex, up into my arms and - ouch, I was not as strong as I used to be because it was an effort to lift him. He’d grown at least a foot since the last time I’d seen him. A pang of guilt struck me out of my blissful state and back to reality at the thought. It had been far too long since I’d come to visit my family.

“Where’s Uncle Azriel?” he asked.

The question struck me like a knife. My expression faltering as I scrambled to regain composure. “He’s on a mission.” I lied.

My sister’s brows furrowed. She was always too good at reading me but thankfully she didn’t press further. I would talk to her when I was ready.

We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and catching up. Alex animatedly told me of school and all of his friends - I couldn’t help but smile as the warm summer breeze whisped over my exposed skin. The tea tasted a little bit sweeter, the air a little fresher, and the company a little warmer.

—————

“Y/N?”

Rhysand’s distant voice echoed into my mind as I lay down for bed that night. I always forgot how far his daemati abilities could carry.

“Hello, Rhys.”

“I received Tarquin’s letter. Azriel has been on edge all day and…. Well, I’m not going to ask you to share anything you don’t want to but - it must have been bad. Take all the time you need.”

“I’m not coming back, Rhys.”

The words rolled through me so quickly that I almost believed them but I knew I’d need closure at some point. For now, I wasn’t ready for that.

Seeming to sense that exact thought Rhys only replied, “Write me or Feyre if you need anything at all.”

—————

Who cries knowing you don’t care?

Night time always brought out stronger emotions in me. I’d keep my emotional barriers held high all day but as the sun set, so did those walls. As I lay in bed that night the first waves of grief blew through me. Not a wave of my own grief which had been omnipresent within me but… Azriel’s grief through our bond.

Of course it took me leaving for him to feel anything toward me through our own mating bond. I shut it down as effectively as I could and cried. Tears of anger flowed as I realized that my presence was never enough but my absence was what it took for him to give a damn about me.

Who worries what the future holds?

I grieved the future that could have been ours had he only chosen me. I let the sobs pour out once again as his pain rolled through me in waves. He couldn’t even extend the courtesy of shutting down his end of the bond as he came to grips with the ramifications of his own actions. His emotions only brought me bitterness and maybe that was a flaw on my end but it sure as hell felt justified. I spent so long giving him everything and even now, I still receive only heartache in return.

Who’s tired of empty promises?

He swore he’d love me forever but forever only meant until someone better came along. Certainly it wouldn’t be long before he returned to Elain for comfort. Would he be courteous enough to shut down the bond then or would I feel the pleasure she brought as she soothed his emotional wounds then too? As he healed and made the same empty promises to her that he had to me? Hell, had he already made those promises to her? Would he hold to them for her?

What would he do now that I’m gone?

What would I do now that I’m gone?

———————————————

A/N brace yourselves, we’re getting a different character’s POV in the next chapter 😏 🔥

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26

[pucksandpower]

Oooh the grid kids series is pure joy! I think it's really cool idea, especially because the drivers spend so much time around one another. Can i request one where maybe back in the day, rbr!seb and y/n were the grid kids of like mark and michael and jenson and back to present times, seb's grid kids are weirded out to see jenson and mark treat seb and y/n as their grid kids please. If that makes sense

Grid Kids: Gentlemen, a Short View Back to the Past

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: once upon a time, the grid parents were grid kids themselves

Series Masterlist

When We Were Young

“Oi lovebirds! Stop canoodling in the garage, will ya?” Mark Webber chuckles, teasingly nudging Sebastian as you blush, having been caught stealing a quick kiss with your boyfriend in the middle of the chaotic paddock.

Michael, ever the protective figure, chimes in, “Leave them alone, Mark. It’s sweet. Remember when we were young and in love?” He winks at Sebastian, who grins, clearly relishing in having backup.

Jenson, leaning against a tire stack, chuckles, “Speak for yourself. Some of us still have it.” He sends you a playful wink and you laugh.

Sebastian wraps an arm around you, “Honestly, with the three of you as mentors, I’m surprised I’ve learned anything about racing.”

You smirk, “Maybe they're preparing you for the important race — the race of life?”

Mark snorts, “Deep, Y/N. Very deep.”

Michael smiles, a nostalgic look in his eyes, “You know, Y/N, you remind me a lot of my wife back in the day. Always grounding us racers, making sure our heads don’t get too big.”

Jenson nods in agreement, “True that. You have a way of making sure Seb here doesn’t drift into the clouds.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, “Oh come on! You guys are just trying to get on Y/N’s good side because she’s the only one who brings proper coffee to the track.”

You giggle, “Guilty as charged. Can’t have my grid parents falling asleep at the wheel now, can I?”

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Sebastian and you stand with Jenson and Mark, sheltering under an awning as rain pours down, delaying the race. Michael ambles over, shaking off his umbrella.

Sebastian grins, “Typical Spa weather, huh?”

Jenson chuckles, “Isn’t it just? Every year I hope for sun by some miracle and every year...” He gestures at the rain dramatically.

You sigh, “I packed for a summer trip. Look at this!” You motion to your very damp sundress.

Mark smirks, “Rookie mistake. Always pack a wetsuit for Spa.”

Michael nods sagely, “And flippers.”

Oh Simple Thing

The smell of grilled meat wafts through the air as Jenson mans the BBQ at his home. You and Sebastian arrive, bringing along a homemade salad and plenty of sides.

“Ah, the dynamic duo!” Mark greets, pulling you into a friendly hug.

Michael points to the salad, “Trust Y/N to ensure we get our greens. Good on you!”

You wink, “Can’t have you all living on steaks and grilled chicken alone.”

As the evening progresses, stories from their early racing days are exchanged, often leading to fits of laughter. At one point, Mark shares an embarrassing story about Sebastian’s rookie mistake during a test session.

Sebastian groans, burying his face in his hands, “Do we have to bring that up again?”

You pat his back sympathetically, “It’s alright, Seb. Everyone has their moments.”

Jenson, taking a sip of his drink, adds, “That’s true. Just remember, no matter how many times they tease you, you’ve got Y/N in your corner. And that’s worth more than anything.”

Prank or Be Pranked

“Seb! Did you move my helmet?” Jenson calls out, rummaging through his locker as the five of you prepare to go karting, his face a picture of confusion.

Sebastian, feigning innocence, replies, “Why would I do that?”

You, smirking, lean in and whisper to Mark, “Five bucks says he put it on the highest shelf.”

Mark grins, “You’re on.”

As Jenson continues his search, he eventually finds his helmet perched high up, just out of reach. Michael, catching on to the prank, laughs, “Looks like our young prodigy here has learned a few tricks.”

Sebastian shrugs, “Consider it ... training. For reflexes and stuff.”

Jenson, using the handle of a dusty broom to retrieve his helmet, retorts, “Wait till you find out what I’ve done with your boots.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen in horror, “You didn’t!”

“This is going to be a long season.” You lean back against the brick wall as the overgrown children in front of you continue to bicker, fighting a smile.

Thanks for the Memories

Jenson, lounging comfortably in the hospitality area, raises an eyebrow as he watches you try to subtly wipe some oil off Sebastian's face. “You sure you’ve got him all cleaned up for the camera?”

You laugh, looking at a sheepish Sebastian who had been poking around his car earlier. “It’s like looking after a kid sometimes. He’s always getting into something.”

Michael chuckles from across the room, “Ah, young love. Sebastian, she’s got your number. But honestly, Y/N, good on you. We older ones have been trying to teach him some discipline.”

Mark smirks. “To be fair, Michael, I recall a certain someone ending up in a pool with his clothes on in Monaco just last year.”

Michael grins mischievously, “That was different. And anyway, Seb, Y/N, don’t get any ideas.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Trust me, if he ends up in the water, I won’t be the one pushing him.”

Sebastian wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “But you’d jump in to save me, right?”

You pretend to ponder, “Hmm, depends on how cold the water is.”

Jenson laughs, “Sebastian, you’ve found your match. But seriously, both of you, cherish these moments. The grid, the races, it’s all fleeting. But the relationships, the memories, they last.”

Michael nods in agreement, “Jenson’s right. One day you’ll be the veterans, guiding the young ones. Remember these days, learn from them.”

Mark clinks his water bottle to yours, “To memories and the journey ahead.”

Flintstones, Meet the Flintstones

Michael leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “You know, when I started in F1 we didn’t have all this fancy tech and simulations. We relied on instinct.”

Jenson, faking shock, retorts, “Wait, you mean they didn’t have cars back then?”

Sebastian chuckles, glancing at you, “I bet he drove a dinosaur to the track.”

You laugh, “A very fast dinosaur, mind you.”

Mark, trying to keep a straight face, adds, “Michael, be honest. Was your racing suit made of ... loincloth?"

Michael plays along, “Yes and our helmets were carved out of stone.”

You chime in, “I heard they used saber-toothed tigers as pit crews.”

Jenson nods, “Oh, absolutely. And the pit stops? Ten minutes. Had to give the tigers a break.”

Michael rolls his eyes, laughing, “Alright, alright, mock the legend if you must. But remember, young ones, we paved the way.”

Mark grins, “And we’re grateful, old man. But don’t forget, it’s their turn now.”

Sebastian, ever competitive, challenges, “Race you to the track?”

Michael raises an eyebrow, “You sure about that?”

You laugh, “Careful, Seb. He might just bring out his dinosaur.”

Passing the Torch

Michael stands, his presence commanding the room’s attention even without a word spoken. Holding a helmet delicately in his hands, he clears his throat. “In every racer’s life, there comes a time when the tracks call to you a little less, the roar becomes a distant echo, and you realize there’s a world waiting for you outside the paddock.”

He glances over at Sebastian, then to you, emotion shimmering in his eyes. “But before I step into that world, I wanted to leave behind something, a token of gratitude and hope.”

Sebastian’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity evident. “Michael, you’ve already given so much to all of us …”

Michael interrupts with a soft chuckle, “Seb, always impatient! Let me finish.”

He then looks at you, his gaze warm and fatherly, “Y/N, you may not race on the track, but you’ve raced in all our hearts, guiding, supporting, laughing, and cheering louder than everyone else.”

“Sebastian, Y/N,” Michael continues, his voice imbued with emotion, “This helmet, from my last race, isn’t just a piece of equipment. It’s a symbol. A legacy.”

Gently placing the helmet on the table, he pushes it towards the two of you. “It’s about the weight of responsibility, the dreams it carries, the hopes it’s seen, and the love it’s felt.”

The room is silent, the magnitude of the gesture palpable.

Sebastian, clearly moved, speaks up, voice choked with emotion, “Michael, this ... this is ... I’m not sure if we can ever fill the space you leave behind.”

Michael smiles, placing a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, then moving to hug you tightly. “That’s the thing about spaces. They evolve. They change. You two won’t fill my space. You’ll create your own.”

Pulling away, he raises his glass, “To new beginnings, to timeless legacies, and to family. Always to family.”

Back to the Future

As Max saunters into the room, he stops short, eyebrows raised in surprise. Jenson is teasing Sebastian, ruffling his hair like he’s a teenager, while Mark playfully nudges Y/N’s arm, offering her a drink.

Max blinks a few times, trying to process the scene. “Is ... is Jenson giving Seb a noogie?”

George peers over from his conversation with Lando, both their eyes widening. “It looks like it ... and Y/N’s being drawn into some sort of mock arm wrestling with Mark. What alternate reality did we walk into?”

Charles, mouth agape, chuckles, “It’s like watching a nature documentary: Here we observe the older generation asserting their playful dominance over the younger one.”

Lando giggles, nudging George. “Mate, should we jump in? Even the odds a bit?”

Before George can answer, Mick, who’s been observing silently, leans in. “Guys, it’s kind of sweet. You remember the stories they've told about the old days? This is just ... history repeating itself.”

Max, still trying to wrap his head around the scene, shakes his head with a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when Seb gets his hair messed up and doesn’t immediately fix it.”

Lance calls out, “Maybe we should start taking notes. This might be us in a few years.”

Grid Kids and Grand-Grid Kids

Charles saunters over to Mark and Jenson, holding up a race boot he’d just had signed by both of them. “Thanks for this, mates. It will be a special addition to my collection.”

Mark pats Charles on the back, “Anything for our grand-grid kid.”

Charles stops mid-stride, turning to look at Mark with a puzzled expression. “Your what now?”

Jenson chuckles, handing Lando a signed cap. “Didn’t Seb and Y/N mention? Since they’re your grid parents and they’re our grid kids ... well, that makes you our grand-grid kids.”

Lando bursts into laughter, while George, overhearing the exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Wait, so we’re like ... the second generation of grid offspring? This is getting complicated.”

Mick leans in with a smirk, “Hold on. So if I’m following this logic properly, that would mean double the birthday gifts, right?”

Jenson grins, “Well, perhaps but it also means double the expectations on the track.”

Lance playfully rolls his eyes, “Great, double the pressure. Just what we needed.”

Max joins the banter, “Are there grand-grid kid initiation rites we should know about? Because I’ve seen old photos of Seb and Y/N with you guys and let’s just say that fashion has come a long way.”

Mark feigns shock, “You’re dissing our style from back in the day? Careful, young one.”

Charles, cocking an eyebrow, shoots back at Max, “Especially considering the only thing in your closet is Red Bull merch.”

The group bursts into laughter, Max chuckling and nodding in acknowledgment. “Touche, Leclerc. Touche.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

nobody sees, nobody knows

Alright, here we are, me adding my two cents into the dbf!Joel trope which we all love so much. I've read so many incredible fics like this so hopefully mine can stand up with them all. This will be a series, so strap in for more of our favourite neighbourhood DILF.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Back to Texas with a degree under your belt and a school girl fantasy to fuck your dad's best friend. What could go wrong?

Warnings | I mean, dbf!Joel comes with his own warning right? Other than that, swearing, alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), dirty talk, and fingering.

Word Count | 3.3K

PART 2 | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about summer in Texas that just hit differently. The way the heat crawled on your skin from the moment you woke up to the moment you tried to sleep at night. The way your father used it as an excuse to cook primarily on the grill, regardless of the food, and the way your mother always made sure the fridge was stocked with cold drinks. The way traffic seemed to cease to exist during the high points of the day, meaning you went to the store every day at midday to buy ice cream. The haze you got from sipping cold beer by your parents’ pool which made you want to do reckless things like you’d done in New York before you realized that the beady eyes of your parents would be all over you if you tried. Reckless things like tell Joel Miller you’d wanted to fuck him for years. 

Every time you’d come home from school, and he’d be there you could have sworn he’d just gotten more and more attractive. The last time you were home, for Christmas and New Year’s, you could have sworn he’d started at the gym, his biceps bulging in the arms of his fitted t-shirt, when your dad commented on it, he's chalked it down to particularly heavy lifting on the job he was working then. He’d had his hair cut in a way that made his face even more handsome and you’re pretty sure the last few times you’d been home he’d noticed how you’d flourished too. 

There were moments where you’d catch his eyes as they drew themselves up your legs, or the time you decided to test your theory and wear a low-cut top and your best bra to a dinner party. His eyes had trained on your chest for most of the night, there was a moment where you’d stood up and leaned over the table to pick up the salt instead of asking him to pass it. He’d choked on his drink and your dad had slapped his back to try and help him. At least you knew he was thinking like you. 

Neither of you had tried crossing the line though. Past the point of no return. You wanted him to make the first move, save yourself the embarrassment of rejection if it came, but it felt like waiting for Joel Miller to kiss you was like waiting for rain in the drought Texas was currently experiencing. Useless and disappointing. You wished sometimes that you could burrow into his brain and figure out what it was that he was really thinking about you. You suspected there would be some code of honour he was sticking to because you were his best friend’s daughter – sure it might complicate things, but you weren’t going to be back in Texas forever – what was the worst that could happen during the secret, torrid affair you’d been cooking up in your head since you arrived back from college a week ago? 

 “Did you hear me when I spoke to you?” Your mother’s voice pulled you from the daydream you were having whilst polishing the cutlery. 

“Sorry mom, I was miles away.” 

“I know!” She exclaims, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you came back, you’ve been away with the fairies,” She sighs, “I said, once you’ve set the cutlery out back can you help your dad with filling the fridge with the beer, please?” 

You hum in agreement which is enough to send her back to the endless chopping she seems to be doing at the kitchen counter. It was just a cookout with the Millers and few other family friends to celebrate your return, but you think your mother thinks she’s catering for a garden party at the White House with the number of sides she’s preparing. 

You make quick work of the rest of the cutlery, wanting to avoid any more questions about why you seem miles away all the time – you can’t exactly tell your mother it’s because you’re thinking about how Joel might eat your pussy.

“Need any help, old man?” You greet your dad in the garage, he’s on his knee’s pulling out bottles of Budweiser to stack in the fridge. 

“Here, grab these and start putting them in,” He’s smiling, he’s always been an overly happy and laid-back man, “I hope we’ve got enough in.” 

“How many people are you expecting?” You chuckle, taking a bottle from him to add to the growing number already stacked on the shelves. 

“Probably ten or so,” Hu shrugs, “But one of those people is Tommy Miller and he’s not changed a bit since you’ve been away.” 

“Between your drinks and mom’s sides we could host the entire neighborhood.” You joke. 

You continue to fill the fridge up with drinks until there’s no room left. Your dad stores the leftover crates next to it for refilling throughout the evening, “Now, go and make yourself look nice, everyone’ll be here soon.” 

*

You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t picked your shortest and lowest cut dress for the evening. It was a pale blue colour, with pink flowers dotted about the material. It fell to your mid-thigh and you had to keep reminded yourself to kneel down instead of bending over, in case people who you didn’t want to look caught an eyeful of the scant lace covering your ass. 

There are a few people milling around already, cold beers in hand, mainly some of your dad’s older friends, who have all congratulated you on graduating and then moved on to talk about mundane neighborhood gossip. 

“Now, where is that smartass?” You hear from the sliding doors; it’s Tommy and he’s bounding over to you to give you a hug. 

He scoops you up into a bone breaking hug, “Congratulation’s girl, your dad said you graduated top of the class!” 

He’s set you down and you can see Joel standing awkwardly next to him, “He’s exaggerating, I wasn’t top, although pretty close to it,” You turn to Joel, “Hey there.” He bends down to give you a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. 

“Good to see you back, sweetheart.” 

“Good to see you too, Joel,” You chirp in response, “Where’s Sarah?” 

“She’s at camp for the first part of the summer,” He explains, “Back in a couple’a weeks, she’ll be thrilled to see you again.” 

“Boys!” Your dad’s booming voice interrupts your conversation, “Good to see you both!” He turns to you, “Why don’t you go and get these two some beers, I need to speak to them about fixin’ up the attic.” 

You turn quietly and head for the garage. Of course, you’d become waitress at your own welcome home party. It takes no time at all for you to come back with three beers, two for the Miller brothers and one for yourself. You hand them off wordlessly, but you don’t miss how Joel grips the bottle just above your fingers, brushing against them. Of all the places for him to grab the bottle, that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? 

The rest of the evening goes by as expected. You spend most of it running around helping your mom set the food out, fetching more beers for everyone and trying to field questions from everyone about what you’re going to do in Texas with an MA in Archival Studies. You bite your tongue every time, and reply with something like, “I think I’ll probably work in an archive.” 

The night is winding down, your mom already in bed having finished her wine too quickly, your dad sat outside in the quickly fading sunlight with Joel and Tommy and a few other stragglers. It fell to you to make aa start on the dishes, which is what you were currently doing. Rinsing them off over the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher, pausing long enough each time to take a sip of lukewarm beer. 

“They got you tidyin’ up your own party?” You hear from behind you. It’s Joel. 

“I’m the only one sober enough not to break anything.” You shrug without turning around to face him. 

“Seems a little unfair if you ask me, sweetheart.” 

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and help?” You counter, “Then I can be sat outside drinkin’ beer with you all.” 

You hear his boots on the floor and then he’s next to you, reaching around to grab the pile of cutlery on the side, he opens the dishwasher further to put the cutlery in their designated tray and then stop, “Has no-one ever taught you how to stack a dishwasher?” 

You pause in your rinsing to look up at him for the first time, “What do you mean?” 

“This is awful sweetheart,” He chuckles, “You’ve got the bowls and plates in the wrong place – you’ll be doing three washes if you carry on like this.” 

“Well, go on then, maestro, show me how to stack it.” 

He’s unloading everything you’ve put in so far, apart from what you suspect he thinks was his expertly placed cutlery, and you’re watching as he’s stacking in completely differently to you. Annoyingly he’s not wrong, the way he’s doing it means you’ll likely fit everything in at once, “Can’t believe you’ve lived on your own for five years and didn’t learn how to stack a dishwasher.” 

“Joel, I was in a dingy studio apartment in the ass end of New York, you think I had a dishwasher?” 

“Well, consider yourself taught now, I don’t ever wanna see a dishwasher looking anything less than perfect, you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear, Mr Miller.” You watch as his eyebrows raise at your new greeting, oh. He liked that. 

He picks up your almost empty beer bottle and hands it to you, “Go on, down the rest,” He’s grinning, “Then go and sit down and I’ll get you a fresh one.” 

You decide to push it a little further, “Yes, sir.” You watch as he swallows deeply at your words before you’re brushing past him, far too close than necessary to go and sit down. 

It’s another hour of sitting around in the garden before everyone else is gone – Tommy is finishing off his beer and telling Joel he’ll be heading to his to crash. 

“I’m going to call it a night too,” Your dad says, “Stay and finish your drink though Joel, there’s no rush, I’m sure this one can keep you company with her stories from New York.” 

And then you’re alone with him, finally. He’s taking a long drink from his beer bottle, which you mirror, realizing suddenly that you didn’t eat much, and you’ve drunk far more than you probably should. You’re not drunk, but there’s a pleasant buzz through your body that’s making your eyelids a little heavy. 

When the light goes off in your parents’ room, you figure it’s safe, “I’ve seen you staring at me, you know.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You make it hard not to, sweetheart.” 

“Do you want me, Joel?” You don’t know where you’ve come from all of a sudden, but this confident girl isn’t someone you recognize. 

“It ain’t a question of wantin’ you sweetheart, it’s a question of doin’ the right thing.” You watch as he rubs his hand over his forehead in frustration. 

“But you do,” You push him, “Want me?” 

“Course I do,” He’s swallowing thickly again, just like he did in the kitchen, “But I can’t have you.” 

“Says who?” You pry. 

“Says the fact that I’m one’a your dad’s best friends, not to mention far too old for you.” He’s looking at you and taking another big drink from his bottle, like if he finishes, he can leave you alone. 

“No-one has to know,” You shrug, “Could be our little secret?” 

“You been readin’ too many of them romance novels,” He snorts, “It don’t work like that, if they find out they’ll fucking kill me.” He’s tilting his head to the window of your parents’ room.

You stand from your seat opposite him, walking around the table to stop just in front of Joel, “Come on Joel, have a little fun for once.” 

There’s a moment where you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, trying to weigh up being shot for touching his best friend’s little girl and finally satisfying the craving he’d wanted for a while now. Then, he’s putting his bottle down on the floor next to the chair he’s sat in. You watch closely as he shifts his position to sit more towards the edge of the chair, before one of his hands reaches out to grip the back of your thigh, just above the crease of your knee.

“You’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles before he looks up at you, “C’mere.” 

He’s pulling gently on your leg as he shifts back in the seat, guiding you so your hips are straddling his. You try not to press yourself too fully into him just yet, letting your clothed heat rest above his lap. One of his arms comes to wrap around the back of your waist, the other tangling in your hair at the back of your head whilst he looks at you with eyes that say he wants to devour you. 

“You gonna kiss me, Mr Miller?” You ask, innocently. 

“Oh darlin’, I’m gonna do so much more than that.” 

His head is tilting to the side and looking up at you from your higher ground, perched on his lap. Then his lips are on yours and God all those years of longing were worth it. They’re pressed tentatively against your own, but you can feel they’re slightly chapped. His hand resting in your hair grips a little tighter and he’s moving your head slightly so that when he opens his mouth against yours it’s the easiest thing for you to open yours right back and let his tongue into your mouth. 

You let out a gasp, swallowed into his own mouth when his hands drop back to your thighs before they’re trailing up the small skirt of your dress to cup the cheeks of your ass, “You wear this for me?” He pulls away, speaking before he’s trailing his lips along your jawline, “Thought you’d get me worked up in this tiny little thing, naughty girl?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

He huffs a breath out of his nose as if to say, of course it did. He’s trailing his hot mouth down your neck now, dragging his teeth along your skin before licking with his tongue to soothe any red marks he might leave. Your head is thrown back as his hands drag you down so you’re sitting flush against him. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans when your clothed pussy makes contact with him. 

You’re whining as his hands are on your hips under your dress, the hot skin of his hands setting fire to you, “What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his tongue trailing down to the valley between your tits. 

“Fingers,” You rasp, “Make me come with your fingers Joel.” 

He lets out a low chuckle against your skin, “Needy little thing, already beggin’ me to finger fuck her.” 

But he’s already obliging your request, one of his hands is moving down from your hip to the front of your panties, running his thumb over the material from top to bottom, “God, I can feel how wet you are already,” You look down and he’s grinning, “I’m gonna take these off, sweetheart, but you gotta promise to keep quiet okay?” 

You nod in agreement before you’re lifting your hips up, just enough for Joel to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pull them down enough so his hands can touch you. He mimics the same movement he’d done over the material, this time his fingers touching the bare skin of you seam and he’s groaning when he feels the slick gathered near your tight hole. 

“God, you really are wet, aren’t ya?” He chuckles, a flush creeping over your cheeks, “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” He reassures, “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.” 

You feel one of his thick fingers slip inside you, just a little, before he’s dragging the slick he’s gathered up to run light touches over your clit. You bite down on your lip to keep you from crying out into the dark, hips bucking into his hand to try and get more friction from his fingers. He takes the hint and is pressing his finger more firmly into your bundle of nerves and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep quiet. 

When Joel’s hand drops from your clit you almost cry from frustration, put then he’s sinking two of his fingers straight into your soaking pussy and the relief is palpable. He’s moving them in and out of you, curling them in just the right way that has your hips moving in time with him, literally fucking yourself on his fingers. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck, placing kisses to his skin as you ride his fingers. 

“This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks, his free hand coming to cup the back of your head against his neck, at least this way you could make some noise – testing out your theory you let out a throaty moan, listening carefully as his skin muffles most of the sound. 

“I need… god Joel, my clit, please.” 

With his fingers still buried inside you, working you to the edge, his thumb moves to your clit, resuming the circles his finger had been drawing over it before, “I can feel your pussy gettin’ tight around my fingers,” He’s turned his head so it’s buried in the hair at the side of your head, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” 

You push back from him a little, looking down between your bodies where you can see his hand working you and that’s really all it takes. Your legs are shaking and you’re biting down on your lip hard enough that you can taste blood as pleasure bursts through you – not even you had made yourself come like this. Ever. Joel’s fingers have stilled inside you, but he’s still tracing your clit with gentle movements of his thumb, reveling in the way you jerk through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He coos at you once he’s pulled his hand from your pussy. 

You’ve collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath, but you’re already subconsciously grinding your hips into his, God you want more. You’re about to reach for his belt when you can feel something vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. 

He’s mumbling an apology, lifting you just enough to fish his phone from his pocket. He answers without looking at who is calling. You can hear Tommy’s voice through the phone from your place, draped over Joel’s lap. 

“You just turn it to the side, jackass,” Joel is mumbling in answer to Tommy’s question on how to work his shower, “You’ve used it a million times,” Tommy say’s something you can quite make out, “No, not that one, the one underneath it,” Joel is sighing, “You were not this drunk when you left, if I find you’ve finished the good whiskey I’m gonna kill you,” Another sigh to a question you couldn’t quite hear, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Disappointment is pooling in your stomach. You don’t want him to go, not when there’s so much unfinished business here, “I gotta go, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“But what about this?” You ask, reaching between you to cup his cock through his jeans, “Let me help you.” 

His hand is gripping your wrist, “I would love nothin’ more, but I gotta go before Tommy floods my house,” Another kiss to your lips, “Next time.” 

“You want to do this again?” You ask, almost surprised. 

He takes the hand that had been buried in your pussy not minutes before, lifting the fingers he’d fucked you with to his mouth before sucking them right in front of your face, “Now I’ve gotta taste for you, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow, “Of course I wanna do this again.” 

[cherriesxinthespring]

WASTELAND, BABY!– ellie williams x reader

hi! I'm writing a new series that happens after the events of TLOU II. it's an enemies to lovers. A story about ellie eventually finding happiness and love again. She finds her light; and so do you.

Before you read the summary– please read this. Free Palestine. Do not consume tlou fanfics without educating yourself about its zionist themes.

this story is only posted on ao3. read it here.

*SUMMARY: You had decided to give life one last try. That was it. After the events in The Last of Us Part II, Ellie decides that the only way to find peace is to turn herself in to the fireflies. She finds a lead; they tell her to find you, a young woman who wanders around with no purpose. When she eventually does, you refuse to tell her where the fireflies are; if she finds them, everything that you did in your past would've been for nothing.

You embark on a journey together, walking through rain, snow and through the darkest places this cruel world has to offer. What neither of you expect, broken and traumatized, is to find the light again in each other.

"For the world is Hell, and people are on the one hand the tormented souls and on other the devils in it." (Schopenhauer, On the suffering of the world)

LINKS: read it here. playlist.

C.W/GENERAL TAGS: enemies to lovers, AFAB reader, eventual smut, gun violence, ellie kinda kidnaps you?, suicidal ideation (both ellie and reader), r! is wounded, PTSD and trauma, triggering flashbacks. canon violence in the game, depression. overall heavy themes, but happy ending i promise!

CHAPTER 1: One last try. You encounter Ellie. She follows the trail of blood you were leaving. You refuse to give her the information she wants. So, she drags you through the entire state of Montana. "You’re bold for someone unarmed and bruised, with a gun pointed to their head"

CHAPTER 2: Courage, dear heart. A small flame inside you ignites. you finally have a purpose; to mislead her, and to escape from her. You come up with a plan, and that involves earning her trust. just enough until she becomes sloppy. But you can't let her see your skills; she might see you as a threat. That plan quickly goes to waste when you encounter a large group of clickers.

“I could kill you right now,” she said, holding your own knife against your throat. Her knuckles were white from how much force she was using. Her features were almost unrecognisable.  “Then you’d break your promise,” you said. “Promises mean nothing in this world.” 

CHAPTER 3: No one left to sing to The rain doesn't stop, so you and this strange girl are forced to stay inside the cave. You're feverish, disoriented. After a conversation in which she mentions the fireflies, you decide to go through her journal to find answers. And you do.

"Are you a firefly?" she asked, like she had just read your mind, or you were thinking out loud. “not a firefly,” you said. you held back a laugh, but she saw the flash of a smirk. You, the reason why they were gone after Salt Lake City, a firefly. “Definitely not.” you paused.  “are you?” you asked. “No.”

CHAPTER 4– Your blinding light (flashback chapter)

Summer 2033, Boston QZ You waited for Hannah to come to you. Life in the QZ was simple for you; being confined in between four walls, listening to your mom's Beatles cassettes, and sneaking out past curfew. That is, until your mom slowly starts abandoning you. "Maybe Hannah was the only one you had, after all"

CHAPTER 5– This darkness i'm condemned to

Ellie and you finally reach the nearest town. And your plan is successful; you finally lead her to danger. What you failed to account for is that this danger can harm you, too.

“took them out right?" you said, trying to test the waters. Trying to sound lighthearted, but failing completely at it.  "Damn right you did," she said.

CHAPTER 6– The injury of finally knowing

taglist: since i impulsively deleted my old account, i'm tagging my old taglist. it's still me! the bitch that wrote the abby greys anatomy AU! you can still join my taglist here

@kissesskittens @zahraaziza @uraesthete @elsvrse @lonelyfooryouonly @ximtiredx @ellabsprincess @spaceshipellie @machetegirl109 @sc0ttstre3ted @taylarxse @carmellie @mayfieldsz @brooklynvwilliams @rinarchy @elliesgffr @wannabwanted @ellabsweet @sapphic-and-sappy @imyour-favouritegirl @andersonsgirl @heyabimina @novadanversss @mulan-but-gay @lez-zuha @abbys-sweat-wife @maribelo-o @peppesgirl

if your name is crossed out, it means I can't tag you– please check your settings and follow these steps!

dividers by @saradika-graphics.

[beetlejuicyy]

Eraser | Ryomen Sukuna x reader

2. Wash Away

Summary: modern!Sukuna hasn't come to terms with the fact that you might not belong to him anymore (featuring a harmless Nanami cameo)

Warnings: gaslighting, toxicity, mentions of cheating

Word count: 2,789

Series masterlist: 1. Ultimatum 2. Wash Away 3. Only memories

Read on AO3

Notes: here's part two!! thank you for the love you showed for the first part, it means a lot. hope you enjoy

General Masterlist | Divider @rookthornesartistry

You checked your phone for the tenth time in the span of a minute. It had become unbearable to witness yourself desperately checking to see if Sukuna wrote you. Sure, you had ignored all his attempts to get in touch in the past few weeks. It didn't mean that you didn't enjoy knowing that he took his time to pester you with messages or take a break while driving between blackmailing some CEO for money and checking the status of the new cargo to call you five times in a row. Sukuna was persistent, if anything, and, as annoying as he was in his conviction that you still belonged to him, you found it incredibly satisfying to see him chasing after you.

However, since yesterday, the messages stopped pouring, your phone has gone silent, and your thoughts had turned your head into a mess. Did he give up on you already? Isn't that what you wished for, though?

"Thank you again for agreeing to meet." You said as the tall blond man came back to the table with your coffee. You argued that it was you who took him out so you would pay. Nonsense, he quickly dismissed you and remembered your usual order like it was yesterday.

"No need to thank me." He respectfully said, sitting down in front of you.

It was pouring outside, a quick summer storm that cooled off the heat of the previous days. It had started raining just after you met at the small café in your neighborhood.

You've known Nanami Kento since college. You graduated one year apart but you were part of the same friend group that ultimately didn't survive after graduation. However, you ended up working at the same company, until he resigned more than a year ago.

"How have you been?" He asked, taking a sip of his black, unsweetened coffee. Polite, as always, showing enough interest in your life while generally minding his own business, Nanami was the only coworker you ever really got along with. 

"Fine, fine." Both of your hands were wrapped around the cold glass full of iced coffee. "Work is shit, like always." He nodded slightly, showing you that you had his full attention. "Actually this is why I wanted to talk to you."

Adjusting to life without Sukuna was hard. You've grown so used to his presence in your life that you stopped noticing how much of a difference he made. He would be in front of your house, one hour after you turned off your work laptop, to pick you up and go for dinner. On days when you worked from the office you would meet for lunch, occasionally, or he would drop by with takeout. On weekends you would go on longer rides by car or sometimes you would hop on the back of his motorbike and go to the seaside. He was filling most of your time and, after that dreadful night, you suddenly realized you had no idea how to exist on your own.

So you buried yourself in work.

Sukuna always hated it when you worked overtime. But now that no one was texting you to be ready, entertain you with riddles about the dress code and your new destination, you found it easier to spend half an hour more fixing some issues at work. Soon it turned into full hours. In two weeks, you ended up realizing that you hated your workplace. You hardly got along with any coworker, the tasks were piling by the hour, the pay started to seem too little for the effort you were putting in. In reality, nothing had changed. Only your perception, since you had no way to blow off steam anymore. Things were easier to tolerate when you knew that you would see your boyfriend.

"I want to quit. I can't stand it anymore." Your fingers were cold and wet because of the glass. "I know you work at the institute now. If there's any vacant position sometime, could you let me know?"

You felt bad for turning to Nanami, honestly to anyone, asking for things. However, you felt the desperate need for a change in your life. Or maybe you tried to cope with the lack of Sukuna's presence in your life by changing it completely.

"I mean, we have similar background, we graduated the same program."

You felt anxious asking for a favor, especially since you haven't seen him since he resigned and only kept in touch through few messages. So you started talking too much, justifying yourself, trying to get rid of the little voice inside your head that was saying you're a burden.

"I don't even want a recommendation or something, the thing is that I know these posts aren't usually public and someone with connections ends up getting it before the normal person can apply.” The more you tried to explain yourself, the guiltier you felt. Nanami, on the other hand, patiently waited for you to finish, not interrupting or dismissing your worries.

"Of course I'll help, y/n." He said as he leaned back in his chair.

"Thank you. And sorry."

"No need. We're friends." You smiled gratefully. You could always count on Nanami.

You continued to catch up with him while munching on some pastries. You almost forgot to check your phone as often. It felt nice to talk to one of your old friends, especially since you had locked yourself inside your room for the past two weeks. At some point, over the muffled voices of people and the generic song playing in the café you heard the sound of a motorbike engine hurring on the street. You mentally cursed at your heart for beating faster, immediately associating the sound with the image of your ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah, so apparently they have been hooking up the whole time and everyone found out during the team building. It's only rumors I've heard since I didn't go." You were telling Nanami the latest gossip about some coworkers when you noticed he wasn't paying attention to your story. His eyes were focused somewhere behind you. He muttered a quick excuse for ignoring you and you turned your head to see what he was looking at.

Goddamn it.

Sukuna was piercing you with his gaze as he walked in the small café, having girls follow his tall figure with their eyes as he passed by them with determined steps. His pink hair was a mess because of the helmet he just took off and he ran a hand through his longer strands to put them back in place. You rolled your eyes when you met his gaze, clearly annoyed by what was about to happen. Somehow, coming to a small neighborhood café just to make a scene while looking unbearably attractive was easier than saying ‘I'm sorry’.

Sukuna hated when you rolled your eyes at him. Coincidentally, he found it very arousing. Being a brat was one of your specialties but it seemed that now you were testing his limits a little too much. You turned back to Nanami in an attempt to reassure him you could handle this on your own but Sukuna was already by your table before you could finish your sentence.

"You've proved your point. Let's go home." He said, looking down at you. He had his hands in his leather jacket's pockets, exuding a very laid back attitude, reinforced by the calmness of his voice. He was talking to you as if you were a toddler.

The fluttering feeling in your stomach at the sight of his handsome face, which you hadn't seen in over two weeks, was crushed by the curious and longing eyes of every girl in that damned café scanning your ex from head to toe. The mix of anger and disgust you first felt when you first saw that dreadful video had come back to every fiber of your body and you clenched your fist so tight that your nails were digging stinging holes in your palm.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Your voice almost screeched while trying to contain your vexation.

"Y/n, I'm not playing this game anymore." He said as his large hand found the nape of your bared neck, your hair up in a high ponytail. The touch of his fingers on your skin sent bolts of excitement in your whole body, straight between your legs, and you had to rub your thighs together on the chair to brush the feeling away. Nanami sat up, ready to say something in your defense, but you had already slapped Sukuna's hand away and sat up yourself. He looked down at your smaller body with an irritated expression, the tattoos on his face making him seem even more dangerous than he actually was.

"Sorry, Kento-kun. I'll be back in five." You excused yourself with a smile before making your way out, your shoulder brushing harshly against Sukuna's chest on your way. He followed you out, and you knew all those girls' eyes were on his every move. The thought drove you insane.

"Kento-kun, huh?" Sukuna mocked you when you finally stopped under the roof in the empty inner garden of the café. Usually it was full of customers but now the rain was washing over the empty white metal tables and chairs with soothing tapping sounds. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pockets but you quickly whined in annoyance.

"Don't. I hate the smell.”

Both his eyebrows raised in a perfect mix of surprise and irritation, almost like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. You never bothered to mention this aspect whenever your eyes would follow him longingly from the bed as he would light up a cigarette after fucking you rough, one finger playing with your lower lip. He chose to dismiss the thought as his head lowered so his eyes could look directly into yours, one hand placed at the side of your head against the wall. The smell of rain combined with his familiar and comforting perfume had your knees weaken while you tried to challenge his inquiring eyes.

“It took you two weeks to find a new personality?” His look was intimidating. You weakly tried to push him away pressing your hands against his chest but he didn’t even flinch. He sneered at your false effort, enjoying the warm feeling of your hands still lingering over the fabric of his white t-shirt.

“Why are you here, S’kuna?” You asked. Every time you imagined seeing him again you hoped to express your anger coherently, determined to let every single speck of negative emotion out of your system. You wanted to yell at him, hit him, make him understand the ruckus raising inside your heart because of him. But now all you could do was look at him with pleading eyes, almost begging him to tell you what you wanted to hear, what would finally allow you to forget everything and let yourself fall in his arms again.

“I came to stop you from embarrassing yourself.” You rolled your eyes again, pushing him with more force this time. He was still unmoved. You crossed your arms under your chest, unintentionally pushing at your breasts. He could notice the slight movement at the edge of his field of view, without taking his eyes off yours. He loved that baby blue fitted t-shirt of yours, with lace around the generous cleavage. And you wore it to see Kento-kun. The way you said that man’s name echoed in Sukuna’s brain and the thought altogether made him lose his mind.

“No, you are embarrassing me.” You spat back. You couldn’t believe you really expected him to give you what you what you wanted so easily.

“Half the city knows you’re my woman.” His other hand grabbed you by the arm, as if trying to shake you out of your stubbornness. Or keep you there, so you wouldn’t leave his side, no matter if you wanted to.

“We broke up, do you need a public statement for that?” It was painful even to you to say those words. You never thought you had officially broken up, not as long as you still hoped Sukuna would get over himself and admit that he was wrong, that he would never do that again. Because he loved you. But you let those venomous words out of your mouth in an attempt to see him feel only a fraction of the hurt you were containing in your heart.

Sukuna didn’t answer. He didn’t have any smart reply for that. He looked at you in silence, the only sound echoing between the two of you being the tapping of raindrops on the ground. He really did think you were simply acting like a brat, dismissing his efforts to talk only to have him chase you. Sukuna knew you loved that and, from time to time, you would push him away so you could see him make an effort to get to you. He never understood your reasons, but he entertained your caprices, enjoying the occasional taunting resembling a mouse and a cat constantly on the hunt. This time, it didn’t seem like a game anymore.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. You wouldn’t allow yourself, though, but your eyes would move from his eyes to his lips, his plump soft lips that you desperately wanted to bite on. You had left him speechless, with a helpless look on his face that only made you pity him. Pressing your lips together, you forced yourself to leave, since your knees were weaker by the minute and your arms were aching to be around his neck.

As you turned away, his hand gently fell down your arm, the tips of his fingers brushing over your bare skin, and he grabbed you by the wrist, keeping you in place.

“Give me another chance.” Sukuna almost begged. It was a pathetic sight, the tall muscular man, dressed in all black, with tattoos on his face, his whole presence imposing and intimidating, begging a woman like you to take him back. It almost made you give up. Almost.

“Give me one good reason.” You said, surprised by the composure of your voice in contrast to the hurricane of feelings in your heart.

“I miss you.” His eyebrows were raised in a pitiful plea.

“You’ll get used to it.” It wasn’t enough. You tried to break free from his grip but he held on your wrist as if it was the only thing allowing him to breathe.

“Don’t you miss me, y/n?” There it was. When his deep voice and mesmerizing eyes were failing to reach you he would retort to emotional blackmail. Of course you missed him, you cursed at yourself when you hesitated to answer, when the loud voice in your head was screaming to you that yes, you missed him, you missed him so much and your entire life felt pointless, that you hardly enjoyed anything since you last saw him, that you missed his comforting words and his safe arms and his handsome face.

“Someone is waiting for me.” You said as he let go of your wrist.

Sukuna watched as you turned your back to him, your long ponytail wiggling in the air with every step you took further away from him. He hated to see you go. Leaning against the wall, he lit up that cigarette only after you were out of his sight. It was such a peaceful rainy day when everything seemed to have slowed down, drenched in the humid air. His eyes were fixed on one small table for two in the corner of the garden, protected from the rain by a tall tree. It was your favorite spot, in your favorite café where he would find you reading sometimes, while sipping on iced tea. You always laughed at him whenever he would pick you up from there. His dark unapproachable figure made such a big contrast with the softness of the garden full of flowers. Sukuna always thought you fit so well there, like a goddess of the spring with your flowy skirts and your pretty round face.

He sighed, a thin cloud of smoke forming in the air as it blew out of his mouth. You were so different, almost opposites. This is why you worked so well together, you completed each other. He let his head fall back, resting against the wall, as he looked at the sky that was already starting to clear up. He wasn’t going to erase that tattoo off his skin just as he wasn’t going to allow you to erase him out of your life.

《previous 1. Ultimatum next》 Ascension |

True Form! Sukuna x Reader

tags: @siriuslyblackonback @rosaryia @st4r-s4r4 @depressiondiaries @sterzin @rowrowrowyourboat13

[askew-d]

KAGEHINA FICS MASTERLIST

• ⭐️🎖️ jellyfish, by mysterytwin — hinata makes a list of things to do before graduation; and that includes confessing his feelings to kageyama. a wonderful story, so heartwarming. my utmost favorite.

• ⭐️ in transit, by mysecretfanmoments — while riding the bus together, hinata begins to discover about his feelings for kageyama. absolutely lovely.

• dare, by majesticartax — kagehina’s chosen to play a dare in which they end up locked in a room, and, of course, revelations ensue. this one made me scream lots. rated m!

• you know all the strings (and know just how to tug them), by artemisia_hq — 5 + 1 story about kageyama being whipped and can’t say no and hinata saying yes. domestic fluff.

• like always, by artemisia_hq — during their last walk home together, hinata becomes aware of his feelings and decides to do something about it. short story, yet so cute!

• ⭐️ i wanna know you, and i wanna love you, by momochai — kagehina go on a day together, or better yet, a date; even though they’re not quite aware of it. i was dying throughout all of this, outstanding!

• you’re grabbing my hands like they’re handbars, by mountains_6 — basically tsukishima being a third wheel when the three of them travel to rio, based on the extra bit of the manga, lol. short and endearing.

• 🎖️ a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow — kageyama reincarnates over and over and hinata continues dying over and over. angst. a lot of angst. but still goddamn beautiful.

• let me in on the open secret too, by switmikan74 — kageyama doesn’t know that he’s dating hinata, until he gets hints from a shoujo manga. that’s so fitting, definitely worth the read!

• highway verse, series by emleewrites — a pixel cars au that i didn’t think it’d catch me until i read it and had dreams about this fantastic universe.

• ⭐️🎖️ if it wasn’t for you, by halfbloom (diphylleias) — in brazil, hinata learns more about relationships and what it means to have a bond with kageyama. got my heart effortlessly. such a delight.

• ⭐️ one more thing, by marks — it’s tsukishima and yamaguchi’s wedding, and kageyama and hinata decide to go together. can i please have more of this? sweet stories like this makes my heart melt, i swear.

• 🎖️⭐️ i can do better, by buu — kagehina compete over everything under the sun, and that includes kissing. and some more. in fact, every kagehina fic by this author hits. and this one… made me feel stuff. rated m!

• ⭐️ no angels could beckon me back, by lilacnoctua — heated arguments lead kagehina to heated moments with each other. a hot story with great development. loved every part of it.

• from this day forward, by emleewrites — kageyama tries to propose; it goes as badly as you can expect. so funny, seriously! i could easily recommend every fic by this author too, as well as esselle’s, but i’m gonna list my favorites anyway, so hang on!

• soft serve, by tothemoon — kagehina drives an ice cream truck to help karasuno; as one might expect, feelings are involved in between. summer fic, brings a ton of good emotions!

• 🎖️ famous v-league players make fools of themselves on twitter dot com, by crone_zone — the appearance of one hinata shouyou through the eyes of twitter users. pure comedy and it’s a whole show. gorgeous!

• room to grow, by mysecretfanmoments — things are different in their third year and hinata’s still learning how to deal with it. ah, young love! the best kind.

• raining verse, by emleewrites — kageyama’s cursed to be a kitten, hinata’s the one who finds him. i love a magic realism au, so imagine my happiness while reading this.

• future’s kiss, by mervousmer — kageyama somehow travels to the future for a moment, and hinata’s there, all grown-up. come on, time travels also have my heart! this one’s cute as hell.

• ⭐️ dethroned, by setkia — kageyama counts his victories and losses against hinata in his mind. what a gem! short and fabulously creative.

• saffron and cayenne pepper, by dontsaycrazy — neighbours kagehina: one only knows how to set the kitchen on fire and the other one’s actually a chef, what could work between them? everything, that’s the answer. a hit!

• on quarantining together…, series by winterey — social media kagehina making lives while on quarantine. fun and addictive!

• conflict of interest, by zukushou — more of social media kagehina, this time with journalists thinking they’re rivals when they’re actually… yknow *gay for each other*. just everything i’d ever want for them.

• ⭐️ with suds in your eyes (and a smile on your lips), by hqkrys — established relationship kagehina take a messy shower together. overall just endless fluff, which melts my heart!

• a bento for dr. kageyama, by zukushou — hinata leaves food for his husband and causes gossip at the hospital said husband works in. hahaha, this is definitely terrific.

• the best laid hands, by mysecretfanmoments — kageyama doesn’t even know how to deal with his own romantic life, so it’s best if other people don’t ask for advice. but what if it’s an advice for hinata? you never know :)

• ⭐️ better than firewhiskey, by mysterytwin — hogwarts au with kagehina! someone should definitely find this author by the way and give them a big hug. i want to. they rock.

• chase the light, my love, by thebeaming sun — kageyama planning to propose and earning support of his teammates. established relationship kind of thing that makes me smile.

• hinata and kageyama terrorise a simple interviewer, satorou masashi, series by call_me_j — story told in the form of an interview, including post time-skip kagehina of course. remarkable!

• optical, by kvhottie — kageyama wears glasses; everyone freaks out. do i need to explain more? hella entertaining.

• never doubt i love, by gentle_autumn_rain — jealous hinata thinks kageyama got a boyfriend. he didn’t. love these small misunderstandings that lead to a confession! so good.

• of gentlemen and scoundrels, by mysecretfanmoments — historical au with kageyama as a gentlemen in london and hinata who’s… well, not very much like him. the writing and the sexual tension in this is spectacular!

• ⭐️ save the last dance for me, my prince, by zukushou — prince kageyama and bodyguard hinata, as this fandom deserved. and such a well-developed at that. charming!

• patience, by mistonthelake — surprisingly enough, hinata discovers about kageyama’s crush on him earlier than the man himself. a lesson in being patient.

• wrestle for victory, by emleewrites — after their fateful game, kagehina decides to compete over wrestling. that’s definitely something they’d do and it got me hooked.

• ⭐️ oh we play, in autumn days, by aruariandance — kagehina being silly boys and kageyama getting a phone. is it because he wants to text hinata? that, he’ll never admit. i’d give it a hundred kudos if i could.

• ⭐️ ridiculous, by festivetrickster — yachi has to spend some time with kagehina in their apartment. the way they live just makes me suspicious of their relationship. no, like, this is indeed so ridiculous but i like it so much!

• sunstruck, by orphan account — kageyama gets the help of romero to sort out his relationship with hinata. seeing introverted kageyama slowly but surely trust his teammate and idol with issues like this makes me proud.

• ⭐️ sun above your shoulders, by longleggedgit — even in an universe where they go to different high schools, kagehina meet each other anyway. everything’s delightful here!

• the missing piece, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — kageyama deals with the changes in hinata. just adorable, i giggled a lot.

• the trouble with soulmates, by navybluewings — our sweet cupid hinata’s journey to get soulmates bonds fixed! this au rocks.

• five star review, by emleewrites — hinata’s hired to paint kageyama’s wall and they start a “friendship” out of it. amazing to see this unfold, so nicely done.

• 🎖️ for the best of all possible worlds, by tinygumdrops (curryramyeon) — an au about kagehina’s relationship journey from across countries, including letters. they meet while being apart and we see it unfold. is there anything better than this? majestic!

• at the tip of your nose, by cloesh_scribbles — where kageyama’s obsessed with eskimo kisses and hinata’s obsessed with him. please help me after this, the fluff killed me.

• the video series, by sunnyslipper — kageyama and hinata breaking the internet over and over with their videos. funny and spot on!

• alexa, play waking up in vegas, by attackofthezee (noxlunate) — kageyama and hinata get married accidentally. the thing is, i can totally imagine them doing this. they’re absurd and lovely.

• meat bun is a love language, by icecreamromantic — kageyama decides to confess using meat buns. come on, it’s stupidly perfect!

• slipping through sand, by majesticanna — an au in which kagehina meet in brazil. just so warm, waaah!

• high dose, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — hinata convinces kageyama that, because of a health issue, he needs kisses. i swear, these silly boys will break me. this is excellent.

• why do i feel like it’s (fake) love, by izucaii — hinata and kageyama pretend to be boyfriends while in brazil. a gorgeous fake-relationship story!

• ⭐️ a best man’s worse problems, by villainphilia — tsukishima, the best man for kagehina’s wedding, prepares his speech while reminiscing how the two dumbasses got together. all of this is just marvellous!

• five proposals, by dayoldcupcake — kageyama proposing, hinata saying no. done with the intent of giving me diabetes. chef’s kiss!

• ⭐️ plain as day, by emleewrites — hinata has a low self-esteem and kageyama tries to make him realize how wonderful he is. i died and came back. truly stunning.

• kageyama tobio reads thirst tweets (unedited), by popcornpearl — after making a bet, kageyama reads thirsty tweets and tries not to blush. it’s harder than he expected. rated m!

• i’m lucky to have you, zukushou — the famous “just woke up high in anestesia and i can’t remember my own partner” trope. pure comedy, love this for them.

• ⭐️ the obvious is at eye level (but i might need a step stool), by dr_awkward221 — hinata watching sakusa’s relationship with miya and slowly realizing things about his own his kageyama. i loove this one, it’s unbearably good.

• ⭐️🎖️ let the light out, by uhohshouto — kagehina make a bet in which the other one must ask for something of the loser. kageyama wants a kiss… and then something more. seriously though, i can’t believe this; it’s a wonderful story, so entertaining. rated e!

• epic, by esselle — a surfing au with hinata as an instructor and kageyama as an arrogant professional. this charming scenario surely made my day.

• let’s take this offline, by pas_dautres — office employees kagehina who meet through emails and reports. i had to add this, because it’s nice, surely worth the read.

• 🎖️ these hands of time, these hands of mine, by fireheartaw — kageyama being introspective over their story together and apart. light angst maybe, but the narrative’s so interesting and captivating.

• discordant, by majesticanna — academic rivals kagehina meet again as professors. so short but so sweet!

• 🎖️⭐️ pursuit verse, series by emleewrites — a gambler hinata and an attorney kageyama based on the ace attorney game. never played the game. but the story? deserves to be printed. if you never read it, you need to. hear me out: you need to.

• ⭐️ getting it right, by akaashism (acciormerlin) — play pretend boyfriends for miwa who end up actually having domestic moments and finding out more about their feelings, hehe.

• know you better, by mysterytwin — bakery worker kageyama and spell shop owner hinata in a world of magic! great development and very poetic.

note that this is based on the fics i’ve known since i entered the fandom and that i truly enjoy. either they’re famous or not famous, i’m just adding them here for my future self contentment and for those who, just as me, wanted a full list of kagehina fics upon getting engaged in haikyuu media.

if you think i should add more and if you have recs for me too, i’m accepting them! thank yoou.

last update: 3/3/24

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”  

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.  

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”  

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.  

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.   

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”  

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”  

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.  

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing? 

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.  

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button.  Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 8

series masterlist | previous part

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 207,567 others

landonorris 100th race, p2, and a nice little call with my girl to show off her flexibility. thank you austin

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user3 ‘MY GIRL’🥹🥹🥹

user7 I KNEWWW EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY

user9 lando have you seen what she’s done?

landonorris have friends? yeah pretty happy for her tbh

charles_leclerc p2 because the fia hates lewis and me*

user2 see everyone the boys are fine

landonorris keep crying mate

yourusername i actually hate you so bad rn

yourusername @/charles_leclerc SURE you don’t wanna date me instead?

user1 HELP Y/N AJDJDJSJ

user6 she said i’ve had ENOUGH

charles_leclerc make me that rice dish again and i’ll consider it

landonorris @/charles_leclerc you don’t even know what tteokbokki is called you don’t deserve her😤

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

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yourusername from monaco with love

👤 tagged alex_albon, lilymhe, charles_leclerc

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alex_albon we need to have a serious conversation about how cute lily always looks in the photos you take and yet…. me…

lilymhe that’s just your face baby

charles_leclerc he’s not gonna know what hit him🤫

yourusername you could not have made this sound worse

charles_leclerc i’m quite enjoying being an accessory to internet drama

lilymhe do you know what’s rude? you spend one (1) second with a man and get a dating rumour… yet NOTHING when you hang w me!

yourusername FR we’ve been married for two years atp🙄

landonorris i know a Better place in monaco you can visit🧡

yourusername get your cute butt home and show me then

texts with charles ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

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y/nupdates y/n at the airport today!! it seems she’s flying out to mexico for the upcoming grand prix 🩷

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user9 seriously? has everyone just forgotten she’s a cheater?

user3 and yet you follow fan accounts of her??? get a life

user7 ur actually miserable. lando hates u.

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y/nupdates any unnecessary hate comments will be deleted and you will be blocked🩷

user8 she’s so pretty even in the rain :( and she stopped to take photos with fans

user1 apparently someone gave her a necklace with an L on it and she put it straight on🥹

user8 @/user1 YOURE KIDDING THATS SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY

user1 THEY GAVE HER A MATCHING BRACELET FOR LANDO WITH HER INITIALS ON AS WELL!!!!

landonorris thank you admin for giving me a new lockscreen

user2 OH MY GOD ADMIN

y/nupdates 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 YOU ARE SO WELCOME

landonorris just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

tweet 4 should finish: hate towards those close to me*

tweet 6 should finish: blocked by my team**

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mclaren from p17-p5. not the start to the weekend he wanted but he only went and turned it around🙌🏻

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user2 SO PROUDDDS

user9 all because of her….

user3 HAVE FUN GETTING BLOCKED LMAO

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user6 GUYS I THINK MCLAREN ACTUALLY BLOCKED THEM THE COMMENT ISNT SHOWING UP FOR ME LMAOOO

yourusername that’s my boy

mclaren we heard it had something to do with his lucky charm😉

user3 this isn’t taking a week off ma’am

yourusername had to support the boy. it starts now <3

y/nupdates just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n:

OKAY this part was boring i am very sorry BUT there is onE OFFICIAL PART LEFT. it’ll be a long one i warn now but then there may be a mini epilogue of stuff i fully made up for next summer xxxx

thank you all for coming on this crazy ride with me — sorry it’s aLL OVER THE PLACE atm but it makes sense in my head ok

charles au is also otw next week and a one shot lando smau

taglist (found in pinned post): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicoranorca @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call

[blublublujk]

bound 2 (falling in love)

oneshot

word count: 6.5k

genre: fwb to lovers

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary:

You and Yoongi were okay with being friends with benefits... until you weren't.

warnings: i tried to focus on fluff (did you catch it or did i fail), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (they make love to each other), choking and breath play (hello it's yoongi), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, crying (is it really my ff if there's no crying involved), creampie, very cute aftercare and i think that’s all, this is more sweet than anything lol

a.n: believe it or not this wasn't apart of my drafts i wrote this all one night because i couldn't sleep so thank my insomnia for this, it was about time i write about yoongi :D

also i noticed a lot of you are reading it was destiny and love always wins and i wish you guys wouldn't only because i plan to rewrite some of it and continue them at a further time (chaptered ffs are so hard for me rn since i don't have all the time in the world to dedicate myself to them but i promise to be back with those two series) thank you for everyone who takes time to read what i write it really means so much and your comments have been so motivating. thank you so fucking much for 2k notes on good girl, gone bad i havent seen numbers like that ever im so so grateful, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i'll try to be back one or two more times this month and happy late birthday to me hehe <3

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

It happened again.

Another failed date to add to the sad list of people that simply will never workout for you.

The list was growing longer as months passed. When you started this list, it was barely the start of a very hot summer. Probably the hottest it’s been in years, one can only assume the winter will not be any easier. 

And you were right. Winter was only beginning and it was brutally cold. The streets were moist from the previous night of harsh rainfall. 

What better time to date and settle down than now. When the world gives you rain, settle for the warm arms of a lover.

Unfortunately, you made a grave mistake thinking this would come easy. Ten first dates later and you are still very single and loverless. 

It is not easy to go out during a time like now, suffering at the sight of happy couples and their stupid happy lives. Really, it should disgust you. It used to. The whole concept of devoting your entire life to someone. The need to constantly feel the tender touch of another person. The desire to fall in love and do it all over again, you get it now. At least, you think you do. 

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” The words fall from your mouth in a quiet rush. The man across you sits in silence before he smiles in his loss. 

“Don’t worry, I figured. It seems your mind was elsewhere. I know you don’t want to pursue anything romantically, and that’s fine with me, but is everything okay?” 

Is everything okay? Well currently, yeah you’re okay. As for your heart, it’s heavy and strangely, you feel there’s a hole in your chest and it needs to be filled. That would fix things, you think. You have been single for so long that you forgot what it was like to love and cherish someone. Not that you have ever truly loved or cherished anyone, but you’ve gotten close. If a silly relationship you had in your sophomore year of high school counts. Then yes, you’ve totally been in love. 

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if it ever felt like I did.” The apology seems bitter in your mouth. Another failed fucking attempt. How difficult can dating be? Have you really been this disconnected with the world around you? 

“Don’t stress it! Things happen. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. See you… around?” The man’s understanding response makes you feel worse. Maybe you should consider deleting Tinder and finding love naturally, if that’s still a thing in the contemporary life. 

“Yeah, totally!” And like that you’re off to the next. Giving yourself plenty of time to bathe in your disappointment and miserably cry about your failed attempts at finding what you’ve been missing. Who knew dating could be so difficult?

The walk back home is just as cold as the outcome of today’s date. Your date insisted he could drive you home and if not that then pay for a cab, but you didn’t live too far from the restaurant you both met at. Though he insisted, you figured this walk could refresh you after yet another failure. You were starting to regret it as the cold wind started roughly hitting your skin. Preserving the chilly weather, you genuinely couldn’t wait to get home and wrap yourself in a bundle of warm blankets and comfortable clothes. 

Cold hands struggle to open your door, you blow on them with warm puffs of breaths, soon making your way in and getting comfortable in your humble apartment. 

yoon: you up?

And that, that is what made this harder. The fact that you knew there was someone completely capable of loving and caring for you the way you desired. You have seen it with your own eyes. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, you felt it. Deep down you know something is there and that something beats everything else. Maybe you’re just delusional, but you look for him in everyone else and you hate it. Hate because you will never be anything more than his personal little whore that comes at the sound of his call. 

me: yeah

Normally, you aren’t dry over texts, especially not with him so he’ll see right through you. You’re hoping for once, he can ignore it. 

He won't. 

yoon: you ok?

me: been better

yoon: wanna talk about it?

me: no, i'm ok

yoon: ok, wanna come over? 

Yes, because during a time like this all you want is the comfort and warmth of someone else’s touch and Yoongi has never failed at giving that to you. But he is not yours.

And you are not his. 

me: not feeling well. sorry.

yoon: sick? 

A white lie never hurt anyone. 

me: yeah, throat hurts

yoon: im sorry 

me: it's not your fault maybe another time.

Though you really shouldn’t say that. There should be no next time. That way you don’t suffer any longer and drag him down with you, considering everything you’ve been feeling and dealing with lately. It’s not fair to Yoongi, but especially yourself.

He doesn’t reply anymore and you can’t even hide your disappointment. You aren’t disappointed at him, okay maybe a little bit at him, but mainly yourself and your recently found complicated feelings. 

You and Yoongi started this whole mess a year ago, before you even realized what you truly wanted. It started off with subtle flirting here and there. They say not to mess with coworkers, given that it can complicate things at work and one should never play with their main source of income, but you did it anyway. You are still young and he only made you feel younger, like a teenage girl crushing over her forbidden crush at church. It was silly, but Yoongi made it easy. 

The flirting turned to one thing, then another. 

“We shouldn’t, not here.” Yoongi had you pinned outside the club you both worked at, leaving trails of wet kisses down your throat.

“Five more minutes.” His words were muffled into your skin as his hands explored your body. Yoongi’s touch was always way too soft for his own good and you fell victim to his deadly warmth. 

“If Mr. Kim finds out, he’ll kill us and fire us both.” That was a bit dramatic on your part and you swore you felt the taller smiling against your neck.

Yoongi drops one last kiss on your cheek as his hot breath hits your ear. “Not if I kill him first.”

You gasped, pushing him off you with a quick smack to his chest. “D-Don’t even joke like that.” 

Yoongi just laughed. 

“Okay, okay baby.” The term of endearment fell from his lips too easily and you melted into the dark night. “See you after work?” 

You only nodded, not being able to deny his temporary warmth and sweet presence. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, leaving you just as quick as when he first found you. You were fucked.

From there, it only got worse for your sake. Your heart could only take so much. 

Really, you should blame things on him. It was his fault you fell in love with him and his stupidly soft hands. It was all his fault! He left you no choice but to love the feel of his lips against your skin, to easily melt under his soft gaze, and find comfort in his unnecessarily warm bed. Yoongi was perfect. Everything you could ever want. 

That’s why it was so fucking hard. Dating was hard enough, but after feeling Yoongi’s intimate touch, you were a complete goner. Though he was far from it, Yoongi touched you like you were his and he would fuck you like a lover would. Kissing and making love to you as if you were the most beautiful woman on Earth. It was all too much. 

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

The knock on your door makes you jump from your couch. 

Ten minutes longer and you would have fallen asleep exactly where you were lying. In outside clothes and all. You didn’t even bother taking off the outfit you had carefully planned thinking that this lucky outfit would have finally taken you somewhere. It didn’t. 

“Coming!” There’s not a single person that should be outside your door, especially at this hour. Your feet make their way to the door regardless and the blood from your face drains when you see the person standing behind the door. 

Quickly, you unlock your front door, rushing the taller inside. “Hurry! It’s freezing! What are you doing out here?” 

Yoongi’s cheeks are surely frozen, a pink dust decorates his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It almost makes him look cute. You were far more gone than you imagined. 

He hustles inside, carrying a fairly large brown bag with him. He brought… groceries? 

“Took you long enough.” The taller one makes himself at home, laying his bag on your coffee table. 

“What are you even doing here?” You ask again. 

He ignores you. “Thought you said you were sick. You don’t look very sick?” 

Yoongi looks at you with a questioning look, his eyes wander your outfit and guilt starts eating your insides. 

You cross your arms, an attempt to hide yourself in shame, but what’s done is done. “I- I had plans.” 

“Yeah, I see that.” He simply says, standing awkwardly in your living area. 

If this doesn’t convince you to delete that forsaken app for the sake of your dignity and shameful behavior, you don’t know what will.

“Anyways, w-what brings you here?” 

“Brought you some stuff.” His hand waves over to the bag he carried inside. 

“Stuff?” You question, a bit dumbfounded, planted still in your place.

“Tea, cough drops, some soup I made earlier this week. Oh and flowers.” Yoongi doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or fazed about the situation. Not that he should be, but he speaks with a puff to his chest, as if he wanted to ensure you understood his every word and action. Like any concerned lover would be. As if he was yours and you were his.

Oh.

This was so so bad. For you and your weak heart. Fuck.

“I-“ 

He cuts you off before you even get to speak. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s just some plain seaweed soup. Usually helps me when I’m sick. I’m not sure what flowers you like, or if you even like flowers. Do you? Their tulips. I did a bit of research before. My mom likes tulips. I figured you might like them too.” 

He did research? Double fuck! 

Yoongi was nervously rambling, now he was slightly embarrassed. Pink flushes his cheeks and it wasn’t the weather’s doing this time. 

“Yoongi…” You start breathlessly and in disbelief. 

“What?” He nearly stutters, his hand is shaking. He’s nervous. Who would have thought? 

“Why.” Is all you manage to ask. 

“You were sick.” Is all he replies. As if things were really that simple. What next? Would he come rushing to the hospital if you suddenly fell ill? God forbid, but it was a valid question. 

What was going on? For a second, you entertain the idea. Maybe he fell in love between the blurry lines of this complicated relationship. Were the shared intimate memories too special for him to forget too? You weren’t sure anymore, but what did this all mean? Maybe he loves you, as much as you love him.

Thoughts keep spinning and you wish there was an easier way to turn off your brain. Not now.

“I know, but why? Why all this? Why for me?” Your vulnerability is showing and it makes you feel weak. Maybe your hands are shaking too. 

“I don't understand?” Yoongi searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, he’s tempted to reach out and comfort you. Have you in his hands, but he’s too coward. He doesn’t want you to feel the shiver of his touch right now. His vulnerability peaks through as well. 

Why not you? It’s always going to be you. 

“I-I’m nothing to you.” There’s a shiver again and then you break. 

Yoongi doesn’t care anymore. He’ll consider the consequences later. Right now, none of it matters.

His hands hold your face, ready to wipe the tears that threaten to leak from your precious eyes. He hopes his hands aren't cold anymore from standing outside for so damn long, but he couldn’t stop himself, in his selfishness and all.

His hands shake slightly, trying to stay strong as he lays it all on the table. “Y/N, you’re everything to me.” He whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You lay your own hands on his, you feel so delicate around him when you wrap warm hands around his cold wrists.

“I-I am?” You ask between sniffles. His hands are still pretty cold, but they’ll soon warm up against your soft skin. Nobody knows how desperately you need to be touched until you are and then it’s like little fireworks spark inside your body. It consumes you in the best way possible.

“Of course. I thought I made that obvious.” His eyes are soft, different to how he typically looks at you, but you’ve seen these same eyes before. They are no stranger. It’s similar to the look he gives you when you catch him staring at you while you are deep in work. He pretends to look away as if he wasn’t admiring you from afar and you pretend that you don’t notice his curious eyes. It’s the same look he has after you both end up in heated makeout sessions, behind the rusty club you both work at. And it’s definitely the same look he has while he settles on top of you, whispering sweet words of praise and promise.

Nothing should feel different but it just does, there’s something in the way he looks down at you that lets you know that everything you’ve been searching for has always been right here. Right where you’ve been all along.

The taller leans in and you freeze struggling to keep your eyes on his. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek with a soft touch. You were fragile between his hands and he’s willing to do anything to keep his precious flower safe. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes. Please.” You whisper back in a hurry, scared that this would be nothing but a dream. It wasn’t time for you to wake up yet.

His eyes zero-in on your lips and then he’s kissing you. It’s not much different from other times. After all, you guys have shared plenty of kisses, probably more than you should have considering you guys were friends with benefits, at most. But this time, the kiss isn’t just a careless lust-filled doing, no this time the kiss is a promise. The promise to never again allow you to question his feelings and intentions towards you. 

If Yoongi has to spend his whole life making this up to you, he simply would because that’s how much you meant to him. He can’t believe he even let this go on for this long. He should have been more clear and careful, but he doesn’t regret a damn thing. Not when he has all the time in the world to repair the time lost. And especially not when his reckless actions led him to this. To you.

Yoongi’s lips are soft and bend with yours with ease. He takes his time, never in a rush. Especially not when he has you in-hand. 

The taller doesn’t escalate the kiss. He keeps it sweet and gentle, like he always has been. “I’m so sorry baby.” 

Kiss.

“For?” 

Kiss.

Yoongi has the whole world in his hands right now as he looks down into the sparkles in your eyes and he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. “For being a fucking idiot.”

Kiss. 

“It’s okay.” A kiss is shared again. “I was an idiot too. I was just scared that you wouldn’t want that with me.” 

“Want what?” The taller questions, fingers trailing your face, admiring the imperfections and all. 

“A relationship, I mean. You seemed content with how our relationship already was. I was afraid of losing that. Of losing you.” You admit, eyes fluttering at his touch. 

“Of course, I want that. I want that and more. I-I’m not the best with relationships. I’m only saying this because I want to be open and honest with you. There’s not a second you aren’t on my mind. While at work, you are all I can see. In a crowd of a hundred, my eyes always find yours. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. But I don’t mind. I think if I ever lost that, I would lose my mind. So I’m sorry if I ever made you feel the opposite. There’s so much more I want to say, but I just don’t know how. I want that. I want that so bad. A relationship and whatever more you give me. I might not be the best boyfriend but I’ll do whatever it takes. I- I love you.” Yoongi’s words are heartfelt and he’s so relieved. One because he’s been keeping this in for so long, any longer and he would have exploded, but second because he’s been dying to say those three words. He really does love you and Yoongi doesn’t love many people in life, but if he had to choose, it’s always gonna be you. 

The tears that were creeping on your eye-lids fall prettily down your face, but Yoongi comes to your rescue. He’s quick to wipe them off your pretty face, tempted to kiss them away, but he keeps that in for now. “Y-Yoongi… I love you too. So much. I think I always have. You are so easy to love. The way you look at me, care for me, and always show up for me. That says more about you than anything else. I tried dating to get over what I felt for you, as you can probably tell, but nothing worked. It was so easy, Yoongi. So easy to fall in love with you. You’re perfect and I don’t doubt that you’ll be the best even after all this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you. Fuck, I love you.” Yoongi kisses you again and this time he isn’t as gentle. His lips are still soft as ever as they curl around yours. His tongue comes out and you immediately allow access, letting him explore your mouth. The taste is much better now that there isn’t anything you both are holding back. Everything down on the line and you couldn’t be happier. The hole in your heart was never empty, it was just waiting for this exact moment to remind you that you’ve always had it all. 

“Yoongi.” In between breaths you call his name and Yoongi feels his knees lock. “Take me to bed.” 

Yoongi just nods in a trance with the way your tone drips of arousal. A long strand of hair falls on his face when he picks you up with ease off your feet. He takes you to the place he’s had the honor to visit a hundred times before, but it’s different this time, much different. 

In the process of it all, something falls and it causes you both to laugh until you run out of breath. 

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You laugh into his ear. “You owe me a new lamp. My mother bought me that, you know. House-warming gift.”

“Fuck, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles near a whisper as he grips you harder like he’s afraid he might drop you next and the idea makes you giggle because you know he would never purposely hurt you. “I’ll apologize to your mother directly. Buy you and her a new lamp, whatever it takes.”

“What makes you think you are meeting my mother?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the blush rise on his cheeks. 

“Well, I figured we could, you know, if you would like–” Yoongi doesn’t often get shy about many things but he can’t keep calm around you and that kills him softly.

“I’m just teasing you.” You say and he bites his lip. “Of course you’ll meet my mother and my father and my nosy ass family. I hope you like annoying, persistent grandma’s that stuff you full. My grandma’s the worst of her kind, but she’ll love you.”

“I would love to.” Yoongi simply replies, still whispering as if you guys had to keep quiet or else you’d be in deep trouble. 

“Why are we still whispering?” You whisper back, roaming fingers through his long, gorgeous hair. He needs to remind you to thank his mother personally for insisting he keep his hair long because it made him look pretty and you could never disagree. Yoongi’s so pretty. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

You both smile at each other before sharing another kiss. It’s so sweet and if you weren’t already off your feet, you would be floating by now. He’s gentle when letting you drop into the sheets below, he finds space between your legs and you wrap them around his hips. Lips still in contact, never losing the plushy feel. 

Everything starts to feel hot. Your hips start to slowly grind against his begging for any sort of friction. But the kissing doesn’t stop. 

Not when you start whining against his lips. 

Not even when Yoongi starts trailing his fingers down your waist and around your curves. He teases his fingertips against your waistline, soft to the touch. 

It’s not until you mewl loudly into his mouth, skillful tongue playing with yours, as you feel him start unbuckling your pants, button-by-button. 

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze burning fire. “Gonna take care of you now, is that okay?” 

You furiously nod, coming up to kiss him once more, both your lips are raw and sensitive, but it gives you more of a reason to fix it with even more kisses. 

He drops one quick kiss onto your mouth before he trails down your jaw. Yoongi breathes in the sweet scent on your skin, wishing he could feel you even closer. “Smell so damn good.”

His voice is raspy against your ear and it makes you blush, while you feel his hand finally touch you where you had been aching with need. “Wanna hear you.”

Breathing lightly, you whisper. “Make me.” 

And of course, Yoongi makes you regret how fast you said the words because he delves his fingers forward with little resistance. Two fingers stretch you at the same time, gasping at the sudden sensation. 

By now, you were molded to fit Yoongi’s fingers. On days where you were really in need, you would take four, all at once. Yoongi was best at reading every expression, every crease and scrunch to your face, especially emotions. He knew exactly how to curve his fingers, the way to build you up, and bring you back down. Yoongi knew it all and he was so lucky too. 

He never anticipated it would have gone this far. It was just sex to begin with. But who were you both kidding, it was always much, much more. 

Yoongi curves his fingers in the way he’s used to and watches your mouth drop, sweet noises soon leaving your lips. “Feels good?” 

There’s no need to ask because he can tell. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know. That and the fact that you are dripping around his fingers but it’s sexier hearing it from you. 

“Yeah… f-feels so good.” With his other hand he tugs your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. Remembering the first few times is a bit embarrassing, but Yoongi always made sure to take his time and make you feel comfortable. It was special and memorable in its own way, and Yoongi felt it too. 

This is unlike any first time, but it was technically the first time you could officially make love to each other until you fall lovesick and that had to be impossible around someone like Yoongi. 

“Hold your legs open for me, flower.” You try to ignore the warm feeling that buzzes in your chest, but you are sure your face says it all. Without another word, you spread your legs open, tucking both hands behind your thighs.

“Flower?” You breathe out with a bit of a struggle as his two fingers continue to pump deep inside you, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot. 

“Do you not like it?” Yoongi smiles slightly, biting his bottom lip while he watches you start to tremble, making the prettiest sounds. 

“I do. Why the new name?” Voice a bit unsteady but it does the job. Yoongi thinks of all the times he thought you were as pretty as a flower, which really was all the time. Especially, in the way he has you right now. Pretty, pretty as a flower. 

“I’ve always wanted to call you that. You’re pretty, sweet, delicate. Just like a flower.” He justifies his reasoning and you melt into puddles. 

“Yoongi.” Voice sweet as honey. 

“Yes baby.” He replies with ease.

“Make love to me, Yoongi.” 

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love. How foolish of him to think so. When he met you, it was a complete three-sixty. Suddenly, Yoongi started to look forward to his shit job. He looked forward to that time between breaks where he could admire you from the back like a pinning loser. Yoongi even started to like the walks he had to take to get to work because he knew that the path would eventually lead to you. He started looking forward to tomorrow's and to the bright future that led ahead. His mom would often complain that he was wasting his life away waiting for it to start, but Yoongi thinks life truly started the day he met you. 

It was a bit awkward because you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, intimated by the staff and new environment. You had previously worked in different bars so you assumed it would be no different and it wasn’t, but the intimidation of a new job was there nonetheless. Yoongi was there every step of the way. He had a crush on the new employee and you needed help on fitting in. Either way, your friendship was very platonic until it wasn’t. 

Yoongi knows he should have said something along the lines “hey, maybe we shouldn't be doing this anymore. I’m in love with you and I have been since you started working here” but the stupid words never made it out. He felt it would be too much to hear and it would only make him look like a complete loser. 

And you felt the same. It was silly really, because everyone around you knew it and there was no reason to fear someone as easy going and non-judgemental as Yoongi, nonetheless it brought you both here. After many failed dating attempts, you were finally happy and in the arms of someone who you truly love and want to be loved by. 

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love, now Yoongi believes your precious, sweet love brought him back to life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

Clothes now discarded on the floor, heavy breathing filling the room, and Yoongi could get wasted on the smell of your intoxicating perfume. “Breathe flower.”

Yoongi felt you shiver at the sound of his words, throwing your head back as he thrusts you full of cock. He pushes inside you with gentle movements, struggling to keep himself up while feeling the tug of your warm velvet-like walls. 

You gasp feeling him hit your cervix in a calm, slow pace. It was breathtaking regardless of the gentle rhythm. “You’re so deep...”

“I know flower, breathe baby, breathe.” He is struggling to keep from coming inside you, overwhelmed by his own emotions as your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure rise in your belly. Without a condom, everything feels so different from other times, feeling every ridge and crease fold inside your drenching heat. You take him so nicely, like you always have. Like you’ve always belonged to him. 

You don’t even notice you stopped breathing until you start feeling lightheaded and desperate for fresh air. Breathing just as much as necessary so you don’t faint, you shake your head against his hold, his eyes watch yours, observing with curiosity. 

“No?”

“Mm, n-no.” You shake your head again, whimpering when you feel him kiss your cervix with his swollen tip, over and over and over. “Can– can you…”

“Can I what, pretty flower?” Yoongi rolls his hips a bit faster, feeling his orgasm build too quickly. He wishes he could have days with you like this always. Days to love and worship you from head to toe.

“Choke me.” You manage to say. “Don— don’t wanna breathe.” 

Yoongi growls deep, increasing his speed even more, desperate to fill the deepest part of your glistening folds. He feels you tense underneath, the sounds coming from your mouth are loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but Yoongi stopped giving a fuck about everything around him. 

He places a hand on your throat and squeezes gently, not blocking off your airways completely, but leaving you just enough air to work with. It drives you insane. The more you breathe, his rough thrusts take the air out from your lungs and the process repeats. It feels so good.  

“M-more. Harder.” You barely hear your own words, but Yoongi seems to understand because his dick is moving rapidly inside you, nearly splitting you in two. You wrap both hands around his wrist, loving the heavy weight against your chest. It’ll end too soon and it disappoints you in a way, but you have all the time in the world to make this up. “G-Gonna come.” 

Yoongi nods, concentrating on the way your face scrunches with pleasure. With love. The way your eyes tell him a story. God, Yoongi’s madly in love. “Come, my precious flower.” 

With those final words, you come on his bare slick cock, blossoming in the blissful afterglow. Yoongi doesn’t stop thrusting inside you, but he takes his hand off your throat, kissing your face gently when he sees tears start leaking down your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Breathe for me. Slowly.” Yoongi’s words bring you back down and you throw your arms around him, crying against his shoulder. You don’t even know what invoked this strong emotion to sob your eyes out, but Yoongi allows it, caressing the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t judge, he only holds you until you settle down. “It’s okay baby, let it out. Breathe, pretty flower.” 

“C-Come inside muh-me, please.” Even after all that, you still beg for him and Yoongi wants to laugh but for your sake and the fact that it’s endearing to him, he delivers accordingly without further questions. 

Right as he’s going to paint your walls white, he pushes himself up with one hand, still holding you with the other. “You sure?”

You’re confused about the sudden question, the tears still decorate your face but then you understand. “Birth control. Just come in me Yoongi, fuck me, fu-fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to regain his brutal pace, fucking you with purpose. Not that he doesn’t want kids in the near future, but he sure as hell doesn’t want any right now. He’s glad you are on the same page but maybe one day the conversation would spark and he wouldn’t want the mother of his kids to be anyone else but you. You were perfect for him. 

“Gonna come.” That’s the only warning you get, then he’s emptying himself inside your tight walls. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips, his slit leaking puddles, until he’s pumped himself dry. With one last thrust, he groans and carefully pulls out. 

He brings you with him, head falling against his chest as he continues to play with your hair, leaving kisses into your bare shoulders. “You okay baby?”

“Perfect. Feel so good.” You mumble into his skin, feeling around his waist. “I’m leaking your come into the sheets though.”

“I’ll take care of it, pretty flower.” You nod sleepily into his chest with a quiet ‘thank you’, feeling completely sated and satisfied, aching with exhaustion. “Sleep baby, I got you.”

With that, you fall deep into the shackles of sleep. Yoongi rubs your back until you completely fall asleep in his arms. He struggles to unwrap himself from your hold, but when he finally succeeds, he tucks you in and kisses your cheek a few times before getting up to clean up after the mess you both created. 

He’s light on his feet, bringing a warm towel to your slick folds and wipes as best he can, being gentle so you could continue to enjoy your sleep. Even like this, you look so beautiful and Yoongi is an extremely lucky man. 

Yoongi makes sure to also pick up the lamp he dropped from earlier as well. He blows out a breath of relief when he notices that the damage is nothing big and nothing that can’t be fixed. He’ll make sure to fix that as soon as he can. 

While he’s out there, Yoongi places the tulips into a vase and fills it with water, placing it near a window where it could grow and blossom beautifully near the sunlight. He even cuts the tips into slants because he had heard somewhere online they last longer that way, making sure to get rid of any dead leaves and petals. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

After he’s done with the light cleaning, he washes his hands and feels the exhaustion hit him tenfold. He’s careful when placing himself back in bed, lifting your arm and placing himself underneath you. The man smiles when he feels you curl yourself around him, sleeping soundlessly. 

“I love you.” He whispers and even though you don’t say it back Yoongi feels it with the way you melt into his arms. Yoongi falls asleep easily that night. 

…

“Baby.” Yoongi hears someone call him and he ignores it. Sleep calls his name louder and he doesn’t feel like waking up right now so he groans and cuddles deeper into the bedsheets below him, unaware of the life around him. 

“Baby wake up.” You keep calling sweetly and it’s tempting but he persists.

“No. Don’t wanna.” Yoongi grumbles like an old man and you can’t help but to laugh. “Just ten more minutes.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were so thankful Yoongi had kept his promise. Your apartment was flawless and you were as clean as you could be. The tulips looked prettier today as the sun shined on the delicate petals. You even had time to warm the seaweed soup he brought from home and you couldn’t wait to get a taste. The smell alone is delicious and it warmed your home up nicely, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was no longer a dream but your reality. You could definitely get used to this. 

You drop kisses onto his warm cheeks until his eyes flutter open, almost similar to a cat. “There you are.”

Yoongi pulls you into his arms again with quiet noncoherent grumbles and closes his eyes once more. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s already been ten.” You whisper lightly laughing. 

“Oh. Ten more then.” You get comfortable on his chest and cuddle for a bit longer because you can’t say no to his cute sleepy self. 

Yoongi starts to sniff the air with curiosity. “Is that the seaweed soup I brought you?” 

“Mhm.” You hum. “Better get up soon before it burns.” 

That manages to be convincing enough and Yoongi forces himself up, with you in his embrace. 

“Wanna wake up like that forever.” He says, voice filled with sleep. 

“You can.” 

Yoongi snaps his heavy eyes towards you. “Are you–”

“Move in with me, Yoongi.” Yes, you skipped every step to this, but nothing was ever to code between you and Yoongi. One thing you were so sure of and that was spending the rest of your life with him. “Please.”

“I- yes, of course.” Yoongi wraps his arms around you for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “I love you. I love you and I’ll prove it to you every single day.” 

“I know, I love you too. I love you.” Those three words come out from your mouths so easily and it’s nice that you no longer have to ever hold back. The man of your dreams is in the palms of your humble home and he’s in love with you. This was better than any dream. 

“Let’s eat?” He says after some time of hugging and kisses being interchanged. 

You nod, letting him take you there. Your kitchen is filled with the cruel aroma of food and your tummy rumbles as you sit comfortably while you wait for him to serve you a bowl of the warm tasty soup. 

“I should be doing that. I’m a terrible host.” Yoongi shakes his head while smiling, the fluff of hair moving with him, then your phone dings. “Hold on, give me a second.” 

Your heart drops when you see it is a Tinder notification from a man you promised to get back to. You look over to find Yoongi serving your bowl, making his way to the table. He leans in puckering slightly and you immediately lean into the sweet sudden kiss while he places your meal in front of you. This Yoongi is new because it wasn’t often you could act domestically towards one another, however this was perfect and just what you needed. 

“Everything okay baby?” Yoongi asks while caressing your soft cheek and you immediately nod in his palm. 

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” You reply in awe. “Thank you Yoongi, for everything.”

For letting me love you and for loving me back. 

The older man just smiles and joins you for the meal. 

It turns out you didn’t need Tinder after all. 

You quickly delete the app off your phone and start to eat with the love of your life, conversation flows while you enjoy each other’s presence and fall deeper in love. 

Alike Yoongi, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. You were bound to fall in love, one way or another, but that man was meant to be yours as you were meant to be his.