#that line of 'he is a kind and helpful man and he's also a drunk'

[itscuntingseason]

playing disco elysium again, but this time i'm really paying attention to all the side quests and making the most of it (i literally finished the game on day 5 in my first run), except i took on the case of "finding working class husband" and then i remembered..... the dead drunk guy i found during my first run :(

[bombuni]

a wild ride

summary: It’s Halloween night. Your friends have decided to take you out and get you drunk, but it’s kind of hard to focus on forgetting when the man you want to forget is standing across the room and flirting with another girl. genre/pairing: kim hongjoong x reader, slight yunho x reader, smut, jealous f2l wc: 4.4k warnings: SMUT, 18+ MDNI!, mentions of weed and drinking, cursing, drunk sex but they’re tipsy at the worst, mean!dom!hongjoong, but he's soft for reader, fem!sub!reader, bratty reader but she gets tamed quick, one instance of edging, finger sucking, name calling (just the use of ‘slut’) they’re both so possessive of each other and jealous it’s crazy bom note: this is my love letter to hongjoong’s bouncy outfit bc we moved on too fast</3 anywhooo THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1K!!! we hit it like a couple weeks ago but. it’s here now guys. I thank you for liking my works enough to follow and support and nothing will prove my gratitude but I just hope this comes close enough :) please enjoy and thanks once again everyone!!<3 also, here’s a playlist i made and listened to a lot while writing this!

You’re not really sure how your friends managed to talk you into coming out tonight. Much less, how you let Wooyoung drag you into matching costumes with him and San. Now you feel like an idiot standing in a fairly inaccurate rendition of a cat next to a pirate version of Seonghwa and Spider-man Yunho. Wooyoung seems to enjoy matching with you, although, letting everyone in the cramped house know that you three ‘have the best couples costume’ in the party. It’s embarrassing having to pull Wooyoung away from annoyed partygoers every 5 seconds, but he’s already halfway drunk and it’s sort of endearing how he boasts about you.

The night has barely started and whatever poor soul lives here should already be regretting hosting a Halloween party. There’s 4 couples making out in your line of sight, the smell of weed permeates your clothes, and the drunk-off-their-ass people in the middle of the room dancing to a poor remix of Monster Mash are sure to break something. There’s a rank scent that emanates from the wall on which you’re leaning against which makes you think someone’s already thrown up right where your shoulder is touching. Or it could just be Seonghwa’s breath, you’re not really sure.

The overwhelming heat from the bodies stuffed in the room is no comparison to the heat boiling inside of you. The humidity in the air and cacophony of noises do nothing to help your rising irritation. You try to cool it down with the iced drink in your hand, but the only way the warmth will go away is by looking away from Hongjoong-who’s in such a clear view from across the room you’d consider it God’s punishment for your selfish desire-and that’s never really going to happen. Not if he keeps looking at her while he’s dressed like that. That being in an intolerably well-fitting cowboy outfit. It’s obvious he knows he looks good, his forearm resting on the wall above the girl’s head as he leans down to hear her better. To get more intimate, to give her the same enticingly inviting smirk he gives you. Your cup crinlinking harshly in your fist snaps you out of the rage-induced trance. Seonghwa’s knowing smirk is haunting you from the corner of your eye, Yunho on your other side trying and failing to hide the same impish smile.

“You know you can’t actually blow people’s heads off if you stare hard enough, right?” Yunho chuckles, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“Ha, ha,” the sarcasm flows right off of Yunho.

“Someone’s jealous,” Seonghwa’s voice is tinged with a taunt, the smell of alcohol absolutely dripping off of him as he leans into you. You’re fully aware of his drunken intentions to piss you off, but you try your best to be mature and ignore the teasing finger he’s pointing in your face.

“Jesus, are you 12?” Smacking the finger out of your face, he stumbles back in mild surprise.

Yunho’s at least somewhat sober, laughing at the ‘pirate’s’ drunk theatrics, “I have an idea for you-”

Seonghwa lifts his red solo cup in the air and his mouth moves faster than either you or Yunho can process, “You kiss Hongjoong!”

It’s simply impossible for Hongjoong to have heard him from across the room and over the various conversations and the loud music playing, but you still shush and shove Seonghwa in a panic as if he’ll come over and shoot you down right in front of everybody. He pulls the ridiculously fake eyepatch up over his eye to stare at you incredulously, “That was rude,”

Yunho pulls Seonghwa into him, a protective arm landing over him so you won’t slap the alcohol out of his system, “Why don’t you go and, I don’t know, tell Hongjoong you’re in love with him?” He says with a mocking voice, shrugging as if it’s a simple solution.

You scoff at the tall man, “First of all, I am not in love wi-“

All of a sudden, Wooyoung pops up between you and Yunho’s bodies with his drawn-on whiskers completely smudged and cat ears gone, “Hongjoong! You looovveee Hongjoong,” he’s swaying and already moved on to telling you how much he loves you instead when you try to respond. Yunho only smirks at you, I told you so clearly evident on his pale face.

You grumble embarrassedly and glance towards Hongjoong again to make sure he hasn’t heard any of your guys’ conversation , “I don’t.”

Wooyoung hums to the song playing, balance completely lost as he drops all of his body weight onto you and tunes out of the conversation. Seonghwa’s not fairing any better against Yunho, but he’s still trying to tell you what a match you and Hongjoong are.

“All we’re trying to say is that,” Yunho pauses to move Seonghwa’s fingers from his lips, “Hongjoong’s been in a bad mood all night watching you, and now he’s chatting up another girl? I-”

Wooyoung mumbles from where he’s resting on your shoulder, “Something’s fishy,”

Yunho nods, “What he said,”

You roll your eyes for the millionth time that night. A small, naive part of you really, really wants to believe your friends. But they’re drunk, and you’ll admit you’re slightly tipsy. You’ve accepted the fact that Hongjoong will never see you as more than a good friend. You look over to Hongjoong one more time in hopes that this time you won’t feel anything, but when you turn your head you find him already looking in your direction. You can’t really tell what his expression means, but his jaw is clenched and his scrutinizing eyes remain on Wooyoung’s arms around you. It’s no coincidence or trick of the light, you’re sure, but a poorly crafted Batman passes in front of you and Hongjoong’s back to being entranced by the girl next to him.

For a second, you’re lost in space and time. You should be embarrassed and ashamed that one glance from him is enough to send you careening back into fantasies of him, but the alcohol in your system and Yunho’s encouragement makes for a deadly combination. There’s a plan forming in your head. The sober half of you is rationalizing Hongjoong’s glance and telling you it was nothing more than that; a glance. But the tipsy half tells you that you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

As Yunho sips his drink idly, you decide to take your chance, “Wanna dance, Yunho?”

He exhales sharply through his nostrils, smiling smugly because he knows exactly what your intentions are, “Sure, kitty,”

He takes your hand gently and pulls you towards the makeshift dance floor. He bows elegantly as if this is a ballroom, but he looks ridiculous doing it in a Spider-Man costume amidst people of varying states of sobriety. While you’re busy doubled over laughing at him, he sneaks his arms around you. It’s sudden when he pulls you flush against his body, brown eyes searching yours for any uncertainty before pulling your arms around his neck. For some reason, touching the nape of his neck makes you feel a certain closeness to him. Yunho leans his forehead on yours and the intimacy he’s allowing you makes you regret inviting him to dance. He really shouldn’t be pulling out all the stops for a girl who’s thinking of someone else.

Yunho takes your silence as embarrassment from his showiness, “I gotta make it believable, right?” You’ve never really thought about how tall he is until now, head tilted to only focus on you. His big hands wrap around your waist and burn where they touch.

“R-right,” you mumble, still dizzy from Yunho’s closeness.

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong’s fuming behind the sea of people. Your back is to him so you can’t see the pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows painted on his face. Yunho, on the other hand, gladly takes notice when he finally looks over to him. Hongjoong’s s gone to completely ignoring the girl he was talking to, only humming ‘yeah’s’ and ‘totally’s’ when he’s prompted. He’s burning holes into your back, as if glaring will suddenly remove you from Yunho. The fuse in him blows when you laugh at something Yunho said. The sound is barely heard over the music and myriad of voices, but it still reverberates through Hongjoong like it’s a call to him. Only meant for him.

“It worked,” Yunho whispers into your ear and sends chills down your spine, “Your cowboy’s stomping over.” You look at your Spiderman smiling down at you one last time when you feel a gloved hand on your shoulder. You can’t really see under the strobe lights, but there’s surely no smile on Hongjoong’s face. He’s glaring at Yunho like you’re his property that he’s touched without permission. Yunho’s hands slide slowly off of you compared to the quick removal of yours, just to piss Hongjoong off even more. You’re sure Yunho has another sort of personal vendetta against Hongjoong now.

“Hey, cowpoke,” there’s a lazy drawl in Yunho’s voice, bordering on venomous, “wanna join us?” Yunho’s hands move to wrap around you again, but Hongjoong quickly pulls you back into his side. He’s surprised by how easily you meld into his movements, but he doesn’t know how far you’d really let him go.

“You’re both drunk,” you follow like a lost puppy as he pulls you off the makeshift dance floor, “and need to be separated.”

Yunho hums behind you, “I’m perfectly sober,”

Hongjoong scoffs and as he opens his mouth to retort, you pull away from him, “I wanna keep dancing, Joong,”

Yunho shrugs as if the issue is completely out of his hands-again, what did Hongjoong do to him?-and smiles, “You heard the lady,” Hongjoong’s eyes fixate on the taller man, fists clenching at his side. If looks could kill, Yunho would have been 6 feet under ten minutes ago. His mind races with thoughts of how to get rid of Yunho, how to keep you for himself, and how his hand is still pulsing from when he felt yours, fearing he’s become addicted to your touch already.

His tone is final, “No.”

Before you can even say anything, Hongjoong drags you through the overflow of bodies towards the upstairs of the house. You can certainly hear Seonghwa and Wooyoung hollering obscenities at you-even over the party noise-before Hongjoong leads you deeper and deeper into the surprisingly large house. The hallways grow quieter and less crowded before he finds an empty room, letting you in first. It’s quaint and sparsely decorated, the soft environment settling your nerves. As you sit on the white bedsheets, Hongjoong watches you like you’re his next meal.

He finally speaks, arms crossed and a questioning look on his face, “You good?’

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Yes. Are you?”

He doesn’t answer you because he’s not really sure if he is. In truth, Hongjoong can’t stop looking at you. He’s sure your look tonight is imprinted in his brain all the way from the short, short skirt to the ridiculously low cut top you’re wearing. He’s frustrated with himself that he feels so possessive over you, as if you’re already his. He’s frustrated with you for simply letting Wooyoung and Yunho do as they please.

You watch as he sits on the bed next to you, fiddling with the cuffs of his gloves. He’s trying to act nonchalant, but you can tell he’s holding back from scolding you with the way he’s biting his cheek. He’s good at hiding it from others, but not from you.

His words are short and sharp, “Were you having fun with Yunho?”

The question catches you off guard. You mirror him, playing with your fishnet leggings and watching him out of the corner of your eye. You’re scared he’ll say yes, but you ask anyway, “Were you?”

Hongjoong turns to you, “I asked first,”

You roll your eyes at him, “Whatever. You seemed pretty happy talking to Ms. Boobs-in-your-face,”

You’re being petty and insulting a girl you don’t even know, but the irritation from earlier is returning with a fiery revenge. It keeps building the more you think about the way her hands would continuously run down the textured white lines on his shirt. Or how he’d smile at her like she was the only person in the room. You can feel his eyes on you again and you’re too embarrassed to meet them. You’re sure he’s sporting a cocky smile now that he’s heard the jealousy dripping in your voice.

“You didn’t seem to mind Yunho grinding on you,” he spits out before he can stop himself.

That finally makes you look at him, “He was not-”

“And Wooyoung’s hands all over you,”

You gawk at him, surprised to know that he had been watching you too. Now the pettiness you’re both showing is obvious. The air is tense before you speak, Hongjoong’s intent glare making you feel small, “You know how Wooyoung is, especially when he’s drunk,”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you, “Doesn’t explain Yunho crawling all over you,”

You cross your arms, inadvertently pushing your tits together and Hongjoong has to hold back a groan, “Why are you so concerned with what Yunho and I do?”

There’s a mutual understanding of the jealousy coursing through the room, though it’s unspoken. In your anger, however, you can’t really process the fact that he’s possessive over you. That he’s outright admitting he thinks of you as his, and vice versa. Instead of simply kissing and making up, you keep pissing each other off. Why you keep pressing his buttons you’re not sure, but you can’t deny how hot Hongjoong looks with the black cowboy hat tilted over his face, muscular arms tensing under the dim light.

He stands to his full height again-too frustrated to stay still-moving so that he’s right in front of you, “What, so you’re into Yunho all of a sudden?”

“Did you just bring me up here so you can interrogate me on my love life?” you mumble.

His jaw clenches again, “You’re so mouthy tonight, you know that? I’m getting sick of it,”

He’s invading your space now, lips so close you could just reach up and touch them with yours, “What are you going to do about it, Hongjoong?”

The words seem to set something off in him, his lips on you so fast it’s dizzying. His warm hands automatically find their way to your hips as he pushes you backwards onto the bed. He’s finally figured out how to silence you, muffling any sounds you make with his mouth. Anything that comes from you, he wants for himself. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, both too focused on getting out all the built up feelings and frustration. Neither of you care about anything but getting more and more of each other. You feel his tongue finding its way into your mouth and you don’t put up much of a fight anymore.

He doesn’t pause his attack on your lips, panting while he speaks, “You gonna keep mouthing off, baby?”

Your mind short-circuits at the nickname. Although a large part of your annoyance has now dissipated, his lips like water to soothe the burn of your desire, you still want to see how far you can push him,

“Dunno,” you pant out.

His right hand slides up from your hip bone to your jawline as goosebumps follow the trail of his touch. A whine slips out of you when Hongjoong’s hand contracts, squishing your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout so your focus is on his words. He can’t help the prideful smirk when he hears the noise you make, happy to know he has such an effect on you.

“I know,” a kiss to your jawline, “I’m going to show you who you belong to,”

You wiggle in his grasp, but he’s holding you tight, “And exactly who do I belong to?”

He smirks down at you, thoughts running through all the ways he’s going to break you, “Oh, you’re funny,” he leans threateningly over you, “You’re very funny,”

Just because you enjoy the game of stirring him on you continue, “Yunho said the same thing,”

He smiles dangerously at you. Not dangerous in the sense of attractiveness, but more in the sense that it’s a warning to the vicious, envious territory you’re entering. You feel your resolve melting against him, the air suffocating you with the thick, heavy feeling of pent-up desire. However, he doesn’t even let you get the right words out before he sticks his thumb into your mouth. It’s surprisingly appetizing, and you don’t wait for his sign to go before wrapping your lips around it. It’s your silent apology for what you said.

Now, his smile is gentler. But it’s Hongjoong, and Hongjoong doesn’t let things go so easy.

“Sluts needs to be quiet,” he whispers softly, but it’s who it’s coming from that makes it so you hear it loud and clear. You nod in obedience, still lapping as he adds more fingers into your mouth, exploring this part of your body.

“You know what else sluts need to do?” You shake your head and open your eyes up at him, “They need to fucking behave.”

He growls, “You’re gonna take what I give you until I’ve had enough. Then I’ll give you what you want,”

You want to whine and protest, but he’s looking at you like that’s not even an option. He stares down at you, taunting and challenging you. Hongjoong knows you’re not happy about his rules, but he doesn’t care. You need to learn to forget about anyone other than him. He won’t stop until you do. Your mouth pulls off of his fingers with a pop and you realize all too quickly what a mistake you’ve made.

His eyes squint at you, “Did I tell you to stop?”

You peer up at him with a guilty look, pout heavy on your lips hoping he’ll show just the slightest bit of mercy. But once again, it’s Hongjoong. He manhandles you towards him, back to his chest and for some reason it feels like you’re a complete puzzle.

He gropes your sides, pulling you close so you can feel how hard he is for you. The feeling of him rubbing against you makes you moan, the sheer satisfaction of finally getting what you want making you high on the pleasure. You know you’re supposed to be quiet, but the excitement of going against Hongjoong just ‘cause makes you want to do it more.

You spot his blue hair out of the corner of your eye as he leans down to your ear, “You’re gonna be quiet and take it like a good slut,” His right arm comes up and around your neck, pulling you in as if you aren’t already close enough, “Unless you want Yunho to hear?”

His clothed dick is making you weak. It’s the only friction he’s given you so far and it’s already breaking and tearing you apart. You shake your head vigorously, spouting nonsense babbles as if you’re appalled Hongjoong would even suggest that. However, Hongjoong seems all too enticed by the idea of everyone hearing how loud he can make you. You try to get more from him by rutting back into him, hoping he liked your answer, but he stops your hips.

“Sluts don’t get what they want, baby,” He pants into your ear and you realize he’s just as torn as you are, he’s just better at hiding it. His hand finds its way under your skirt, fumbling to pull your panties down. The sound of your wet pussy fills the room as Hongjoong plays with your folds, agonizingly slow to make you shake with anticipation.

He smiles down at you, “You’re so fucking wet,”

Before you can say anything snappy, he slides in you. He fills you just right, and you don’t want to sound crazy, but you feel like your pussy was sculpted just for him. His cock drives in you and hits right where you need it to. It makes you want to fall over, too weak to hold yourself up, but Hongjoong stops that from even happening.

You’re whining for more, “Keep being loud and Wooyoung will hear you,”

You gasp as he thrusts in you, but it just spurs him on. Being buried in you feels right, like it’s where he was made to be. He chalks up his intensified feelings to the alcohol flowing in his system.

Your moans mix together, “Seonghwa too? Want me to make everyone in this house know who’s fucking you?”

You can barely keep your head up, much less respond to him. The bed squeaks as he thrusts in you over and over again, limbs entangled. You start to think Hongjoong may have some jealousy issues, but you don’t mind.

His hand snakes around you again, this time reaching to play with your clit. His fingers make your knees buckle, the rhythm between his hips and his hand sending a new wave of pleasure through you. You don’t have the energy to process it, but all the while he’s telling you how he’s the only one who can touch you like this.

Your lower half is on fire, white hot sparks of pleasure flowing all the way from your abdomen to your toes. All of your senses are heightened because of Hongjoong’s touch and you feel the pleasure reaching its tipping point, right before Hongjoong rips his hand away and stops his hips.

Your complaint is right on the tip of your tongue, but Hongjoong drags you like a ragdoll over him before you can get the words out. Your senses haven’t even come back to you yet, but Hongjoong looks up at you with the cockiest smile and you feel that same bliss again.

His hands on your hips turns your nervous system on again, “You wanna cum, baby?”

Your voice comes out hoarse, “Yes. Yes, please, Joongie,”

He looks up at you contemplatively, as if deciding whether you deserve to finish or not. It makes a defiant whine build up in your throat the longer he takes.

He shushes you with a nudge, “Then work for it.”

Hongjoong’s tone is final and even though you’re on top of him, there’s no room for control or for arguing. He looks up at you expectantly, simply waiting for you to obey. You want to grab his collar, make him regret talking to you like he owns you, but unfortunately he in fact does.

The cowboy hat is befitting now, so you take it for yourself. His blue hair is disheveled and tangled underneath it, but he still looks celestial. A laugh rips out of him as the hat tips over your head when you look down. You pout at him, but the giggles slip into groans when you slide down him again.

It’s entirely too distracting for Hongjoong, and he has to bite his lip to hold back from cumming on the spot. You’re too tight and wet, too perfect for him. He almost regrets putting you in this position now.

But you look too good all sweaty on top of him, mouth parted open in satisfaction, with the sound of skin against skin accompanying you. Watching you bounce with his hat on makes him feel a little crazy.

His hand reaches for your clit again, finding that spot that he’s learned your body really likes. Your back arches against his fingers, shuddering at the feeling of him. His fingers follow a pattern against you, persistent in their goal to make you cum. It’s too good, too fast. You can’t help it as your body falls over him, pleasure overriding your ability to function.

Hongjoong laughs at you, “Can't do anything on your own, huh? Dumb slut needs me to help,” You nod against his neck, hiding your embarrassed blush.

He, uncharacteristically, kisses the crown of your head. You suppose it’s an apology for the way he hauls your thighs over him, then slams you back down on his cock again. Once again, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. You feel the heat rising in you again, your body tightening up against Hongjoong.

This time there’s no signs of him stopping, his forearms keeping a tight hold of your thighs as he spears you on his cock over and over again, his desperate pants right by your ear.

He senses you’re near your tipping point, “See? All you needed was a good fucking for you to behave,”

You nod brainlessly, simply following whatever he says with only one thing on your mind.

“You can cum, baby. Want you to be loud so even fucking Yunho knows,”

You feel it coursing through you. It’s been a slow build up waves caused by Hongjoong, but now with his permission it turns into a full-on tsunami hitting you. The pleasure shoots through you, your entire body seizing up as it takes over you. Hongjoong fucks you through it with slow, shallow thrusts. Or at least he tries to, before the feeling of your tightening pussy finally pulls the orgasm out of him. He’s quick to pull out, his cum splattering all over his lower abdomen.

When you’re done, you’re left panting and sweaty on his still shirt-clad chest. You feel his racing heartbeat against your hands, heavy breaths beating against you. You look up and Hongjoong has the softest, tranquil smile for you.

“I only danced with Yunho to make you jealous,” you mumble amidst the silence.

His hand runs through your hair under his hat, “I only flirted with that girl to make you jealous,”

You’re scared by how soft and intimate it’s suddenly turned. You’re scared Hongjoong only thinks of you as a fuck buddy now, nothing more nothing less. So, You don’t say anything else.

He knows you by now, knows where every cog in your brain goes and how it works. Hongjoong pokes your cheek gently, “That means I like you a lot,”

“Oh,” you feel your heartbeat pick up speed, “me too.”

“Good,” he smiles at you again, that charming and sugary sweet smile he only gives you, “then we’ll go on a date.” You nod into him, blissful peace finally settling over you.

You’re halfway to sleep when Hongjoong speaks up again, “Can I have my hat back?”

[maruflix]

  — ★ FIVE STAGES OF LOVE

☆ — “IT SEEMS THE HOSHINA CLAN WILL WELCOME THEIR NEW MADAM VERY SOON.”

featuring: Yandere!Hoshina Soshiro x f!reader

synopsis: You weren’t supposed to find out... but you did, and Hoshina Soshiro had no choice. Surely you’ll understand, right?

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the third division, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, suggestive at the end, hoshina soshiro is a scary yandere, i do not condone yanderes irl, no beta we die like kaiju number twelve

word count: 1,8k

“Vice Captain, can you stop being so kind to me?”

Stunned, Soshiro looks up to find you standing nervously. He eyes the training field— everyone is either chatting amongst themselves or walking back to get dinner. His gaze shifts back to your trembling figure.

You probably said those words as a joke. But what if you really took notice of his affection towards you? Soshiro tries to keep his expression calm although his stomach is slowly starting to turn, He tried so hard not to let them show.

“I mean no disrespect, it’s just that... I fear I’m going to get the wrong idea.”

Your shy expression makes his head spin. “Yer’ not wrong,” Soshiro probes your reaction, standing up to gently scoop your hands when you blush. “I like ya’ a lot.”

He’s unsure how you will react. For a split second, the only thing he can hear is the own thundering of his heart. Then, you gasp and look up at him with eyes wide open, also catching him off guard.

“R-really?! Me too! I like you... too...” After bursting out those words, your cheeks turn red and your head drops to the ground.

No longer trusting his mouth to say the right words, Soshiro lets his body to do the talking, moving forward to pull you into an embrace. You giggle, and at that moment he knows—

There’s no way in hell he’s ever letting you go, so help him God.

STAGE I: INFATUATION

Soshiro is a hardworking man.

Born into a distinguished clan that left him with a legacy many claim as outdated and archaic, Soshiro has never stopped running. Everyone thought he couldn’t do it, so he proved them wrong. He surpassed Japan’s so-called ‘strongest anti-kaiju combatant’ and everyone has no choice but to acknowledge his abilities, granting him honor, wealth, and the position of Vice Captain of the Third Division.

In his division alone, Soshiro has seen many talented officers, but not many people can rival him in endurance. So when you enter his line of vision, he grows curious. You’ve always been working harder than the others, training for a bit longer, so eager to do your job well.

Soshiro admires your dedication, drunk on the way you hang on his every command while you study his movements with those beautiful eyes. Soon, he can’t help but to search for your face in every crowd, half hoping you’d notice him staring.

He knows he’s falling. It’s not a bad thing, he thinks, to fall for someone who shines as bright as the sun.

Unfortunately, he’s not the only one struck by your charm. He’s aware of the stares you get from male officers, their pathetic excuses to start conversation with you, how your name always pops up in their gossip. He took care of the impudent ones.

Slowly, carefully, he handpicks the people in your platoon, making sure to surround you with polite, respectful officers, mostly other ladies— because why would you ever need other men when you have him?

STAGE II: INTENSIFICATION

Soshiro is a wonderful boyfriend. It’s no secret that he’s a reliable vice captain, beloved by his division, but somehow he’s even more attentive with you.

When Kafka accidentally injured you during training, Soshiro immediately drops everything to rush towards you, making sure you’re okay—and you are, just a few bruises and a gash—before lifting you up and carrying you to the infirmary, dressing your wound himself.

Kafka returns late that night, telling you that he received punishment for the small incident with you earlier. You’re a bit worried for him but he waves it off, laughing as he limps to his quarters.

You sigh, Soshiro can be such a worrywart.

Then a new recruit enters. Quickly, he’s enamored by you. Pretty senior, he’d always call you. Everyone mocks him and tells him there’s no way he can compete with your lover who just so happens to be their division’s vice captain, but he just laughs and tells them it’s a platonic kind of love.

He’s a good friend; it’s flattering to have a younger brother who always sticks so close to you, showering you with praises. Of course, you kept your distance. You don’t want to give the sweet man false hopes and you’re too in love with Soshiro to ever look at someone else.

You never noticed the weight of Soshiro’s gaze as it falls on the two of you.

STAGE III: OBSESSION

Your world crashed down when Reno breaks the news to you— a death in the third division. You knew what you were signing up for when you entered the force, but nothing could prepare you for the loss of a good friend.

Your platoon surrounds you, patting you on the back as you mutely stare at him on the hospital bed— the pale lips that would call you pretty senior no more.

After you return to the base, Soshiro quickly finds you. He takes you into his arms as you cry in his embrace.

“How did this happen?” You gasp in between sobs, “How..?”

The new recruits weren’t supposed to be in the area he was found in. It was supposed to be closed off, only for the more-skilled officers to enter because it was swarming with kaiju. Not a single person in the platoon knows how the heck he got himself there, with no one to accompany him.

Soshiro rubs your back comfortingly, humming. “’s an unfortunate accident. A miscommunication, perhaps? He heard the area code wrong and-”

“But that’s impossible!” You sob harder, resting your head against Soshiro’s chest in an attempt to calm yourself down. “Someone suspects he got a private comm from someone to go to that area, it’s just so weird...”

“Well,” Soshiro sighs, “it is a battlefield after all. Accidents are bound to happen. You hafta’ know that as unfortunate as it is, things can quickly get out of control.”

Your blood runs cold at his distant tone. Hiccups paused, you slowly look up at him.

Soshiro tilts his head, then he smiles. Dazzlingly.

You pretend your knees do not tremble— because no matter how hard Soshiro tries to act dumb, you know he’s always the one in control.

STAGE IV: DESTRUCTION

Soshiro knows he doesn’t love in halves— it isn’t in his nature.

He does things earnestly, polishing all of his talents until they gleam and sparkle. He knows what he likes and what he dislikes— there’s no grey area when it comes to his feelings.

Soshiro loves you in extremes, but there’s a catch to that. His love is great, but his jealousy is even greater— it writhes like a great serpent, eager to be lashed out. He tries to hide his ugly sides from you, but everything always spirals out of control and he ends up with more blood on his hands.

It’s your fault— why did you have to be so perfect?

Soshiro wants to hide you away from the rest of the world, but he has his darned duties and responsibilities. Only in the darkness of your room can he fully show you how much he loves you, ravishing you until his name is the only thing that comes out of your mouth. It becomes a routine. But it’s not nearly enough.

Even now, as you caress his hair, sweat still glistening on your forehead, Soshiro still misses you. He wishes he can press himself closer to you, to feel you more, to become one with you.

“Soshiro, can I ask you something?”

You retract your hands from his hair and Soshiro fights the urge to sigh in disappointment. He gazes at you but you don’t meet his eyes, so he settles on kissing your forehead.

“Anythin.”

“Did you have something to do with Izumo’s recent transfer?”

His eyes narrowed. Well, duh. Of course he did.

The transfer was him being kind. If he had it his way, he would raze the Izumo Family to the ground along with their darned greenhead scion who dares to look at his girlfriend with lovesick eyes.

“I approved the request, yes.”

He dances along the edges of the truth, but you are having none of it.

“No, Soshiro. Tell me the truth.”

The defiance in your eyes awoke a fire in him.

“What do you want me to say, darlin’?” Soshiro challenges you, his voice soft but spiked with venom.

You shiver at the feeling of his fingers threading through your hair. “I want the truth, Soshiro.”

Your lover merely smiles at you. Innocent, taunting, daring you to find fault within him. Soshiro knows he’s a very careful man, he hides his true nature well— but you were no fool.

“Forget it. Let’s take a break.” You give in, rolling on your back to distance yourself from the violet-haired man. It breaks your heart to say it, but you were starting to feel suffocated with all his secrets.

There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere as Soshiro—your gentle, loving Soshiro—grips your arm hard and gazes at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

STAGE V: R̵̪̾Ȅ̷̥̟̠͚̀͑͊̋͛̈́̓S̸͎̺̺̍̃̌̇̌̈́͘O̴̧̮͍͉̻͛͌̔ͅL̵̪̖̬̖̘̬͇̄̾́́̄Ù̶̻͙̏͆̋̉̉͝T̴̹̹̤̣͇̙̬͕̉̀͑̿͛̇͘I̵̻̥̫̜͖̲̓̍̐̑͗͊O̷̢̩̮͍͉̍͒͛̇̑̓̾̚Ṅ̸̡̢̻͉͂̋͑̔̓

“A break?” Soshiro’s voice trembles with anger. In one swift motion, he’s on top of you, pinning your hands above your head. “Yer kiddin’, right? And if I say I had somethin’ to do with it? What then?”

You look in horror as Soshiro’s expression changes several times in the span of a few minutes. He’s losing it, you can tell, and it’s all because you pushed him.

“I just hate it when a buncha’ nobodies stare at what’s mine. I tried to be patient, I really did,” he shakes his head mournfully, “but they never learn.”

“And what? You transferred them? Fired them? K-” the word kill lodges itself on your throat as your eyes burn with tears.

Soshiro stares at you blankly. “’m just lookin’ after what’s mine. Yer’ gonna leave me for that? Hardly seems fair.” his one-hand grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen even after a few tears escape your eyes.

Suddenly he pauses, like he’s recalling an important information. There’s something in his gaze when he looks down at you— something feral.

“Y’know,” Soshiro muses, “the seat of the next clan head is promised to whoever gets married first between my brother and I.” He runs his free hand down your body, stopping to gently rub circles on your lower stomach.

“I never really cared much about that crap, but I can’t have ya’ running away from me,” the hand that is previously rubbing your stomach now moves down to spread your thighs apart. “if I get you pregnant with my child, there’s no way yer’ gonna leave me, right?”

He words it like a threat, yet it makes you shiver in anticipation. You want to push him away, but every fibre of your body is screaming for him to continue— perhaps you’ve also fallen into the depravity of his love.

He slips a hand inside your underwear and you relinquish control, letting the pleasure cloud your brain. Your mewls only fuels Soshiro’s fire, his own breaths getting heavy as he trails soft kisses down your neck.

“No objections? Good,” Soshiro leans back and chuckles at the sight of you, so pliant under his touch, “then it seems the Hoshina clan will welcome their new madam very soon.”

art by suou2280 on twitter

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu

end notes: if narumi is a lovesick fool who embodies the original meaning of ‘yandere’ to the tee, then hoshina is the stereotypical, scary, controlling yandere that makes you shat your pants. hoshina girlies i hope i did him justice!! i’m gonna go to sleep now goodbye snork mimimimimiimimi

[tlou-reid]

Wine-Tainted Water ❤︎ Spencer Reid

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a night out with their team, spencer and his lover take a bath together. based on one line of dress by taylor swift.

♡ WARNINGS: alcohol, reader and spencer are drunk, grossly cute fluff, not edited and in all lowercase

♡ NOTE: this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“i’m spilling wine in the bathtub. you kiss my face and we’re both drunk. everyone thinks that they know us. but they know nothing…”

you were too drunk to understand how the rest of the team didn’t see you and spencer sneak into the same uber. you were sure spencer would also question how you two got away with it, if it were something he was bothered to consider. but, right here with you, the rest of the team was the last thing on his mind.

despite his knees being pressed almost all the way to his chest and his arms being haphazardly thrown over the side of the tub, there was no other position he’d want to be in right now.

you were laughing at something he said—that much he knew. your face was scrunched up and your smile was probably the biggest he’d ever seen it. the alcohol cursing through your blood was definitely aiding in your laughter. you were always a giggly drunk, spencer realized.

not that he was any better. he wasn’t sure if he was more love drunk or alcohol drunk. the bar the team had visited was running a special on vodka cranberries, and he had definitely had a few too many. he wasn’t sloppy drunk or not in control of himself drunk, but he was the kind of drunk that made the tips of your fingers go numb.

he was trying to gauge where you are on that spectrum. you had stuck to wine, so you aren’t feeling as dizzy as he currently is, but you had a few more than him.

spencer quickly gave up on trying to pinpoint your location on this imaginary drunk scale he’d made up. he was too entranced by the words you were attempting to form. “spence!” you cheered, holding out the wine class he’d teased you for grabbing.

“what are you doing?” spencer said with a teasing smile as you made your way to his kitchen cabinet. “you still have that bottle of sangria?” you asked, with a much more stable tone than you had now. “yes?” spencer was clearly confused, “i thought you wanted to take a bath?” you laughed in reply, “there’s no law against having wine in the bathtub.” he couldn’t argue with that.

that was probably over an hour now. the water had run cold and the vanilla scented bubble bath you’d dumped in was starting to fade.

“another glass?” he questioned, taking your glass and reaching for the bottle you’d propped up against the side of the bathtub. “mhm!” you nodded, stretching out your legs a little bit. neither of you were comfortable per say, but the alcohol and love in the air was easily masking the joint pain you were starting to experience. squeezing into a tub with a man as tall as spencer was not an easy feat, but you were desperate to make it work.

“do you think anyone noticed?” spencer asked, referring to your hasty exit from the bar. “i dunno,” you mumbled as he handed the glass back to you, “i don’t really care either.” for some reason, your simple reply made spencer smile. he also didn’t care, he decided as soon as the words left your mouth.

“plus,” you started after taking a sip of your wine. spencer could tell you were about to ramble. it was a thing in your relationship. if one of you wasn’t rambling, the other definitely was. and you both listened to each other carefully, never invalidating or rushing them. it was nice to be with someone who talked like he did, spencer thought.

“even if they did, they don’t really know.” you emphasized. “like, they only really know work us, y’know?” spencer didn’t know. the team was his family and definitely knew more about him than simply who he was at work. with one quirk of an eyebrow, however, he was able to get you to explain your train of thought.

“see!” you gestured to his facial expression. as your body excitedly moved to show that your point had been proven, even if spencer was still confused, your almost full wine glass shook, sending red sangria into the bath water. spencer held back his laugh as you gently splashed it towards him. you took another sip, before continuing your explanation.

“i was very easily able to tell you didnt understand what i was saying. because we know each other. really know each other. so who cares if they think we’re dating? i mean i’ve seen parts of you no one else has, like i’ve seen your butthole, spencer. has anyone else on the team seen your butthole? exactly.”

spencer couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled over from his throat. you were speaking so passionately and so clearly about this, it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. he couldn’t tell if the warmth radiating through his chest was from the alcohol or from the way you existed in this space. he never wanted to leave this bathtub.

spencer couldn't help himself as he launched forward. the wine-tainted water that went flying over the side of the tub would be a problem for tomorrow. right now, all he was worried about was pressing a million and one kisses to the part of cheek that bubbled up when you smiled. he gently caressed your face as he moved closer to you. not even the pain in his back from his sudden jolt forward could slow him down.

you grip tighten on your wine glass, making sure it was secure in your hand as spencer moved. the bathroom acoustics made your fit of laughter sound as perfect as beethoven's third sympony to spencer. your giggles bounced off the wall, right into his heart as he kisses moved from your cheeks to being peppered around your entire face. his hands moved down to your sides, pulling you closer to him.

"spencer!" you squealed as his fingers wiggled against your sides. you could feel your grip on your glass loosening as he tickled you. "spencer! stop!" you laughed, using your feet to push against his thighs, effectively pushing him away. the bathroom was silent as you both came down from the giggle high you'd been on.

after another sip of wine, you spoke, "what was that for?" there was no malice behind your words. no accusatory tone or anger from his actions. you were smiling, basking in spencer's rare show of affection. he simply shrugged, "i just love you," he declared. you, once again, giggled at his words, "i love you too."

spencer sighed, holding up his hand to show you his pruning fingers. he was starting to sober up, so the cold of the bath water was beginning to effect him. "it might be time to get out, love." your bottom lip jutted out, expressing a disappointment that was far too dramatic for his simple sentiment. "don't wanna," you mumbled, pulling your glass to chug the rest of the wine before spencer made you get up.

spencer let out a laugh as you chugged, encouraging you to keep going. you finished the glass incredibly quickly. "i'm getting cold," he cooed, grabbing the empty glass and placing it on the floor, out of the way of where either of you would step out of the tub. "m'kay," you mumbled, not wanting spencer to suffer at your expense. spencer slow stood, not wanting to get any more water on the floor. he reached for the towel on the rack, dropping in on the floor, protecting your feet from where he overflowed the water earlier.

"stay here," he instructed before stepping out. he went to grab another towel. he quickly threw one around his waist, before reaching for the fluffiest one he could find. he returned to the side of the tub, leaving the towel to rest on the sink.

"ready?" he questioned, holding out his hand for you to take. in your drunken state, you were extremely grateful for his help to get you on your feet. he held onto you as you stepped over the wall of the bathtub, and didn't let go until you were standing stable. then, he reached for the towel, wrapping you up in it's warmth.

he rubbed his hands along the sides of your body, drying it to the best of his ability. the smudged makeup and goofy smile that painted your face had his heart racing.

"you ready?" he gestured to the door as he spoke. you nodded in response, pulling the towel tighter around your body. "i don't want to go to work on monday," you informed him as you walked the hallway to your room. "me neither," he agreed, reaching in his drawer for two oversized shirts. he slipped on a pair of boxers before moving to grab your comfiest pair of underwear.

you had made yourself comfortable on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wet where you or spencer would lay down. "legs up," he mumbled as he bent down. he slid the underwear up your legs, and helped you lift your butt up when he got to the top. once you were comfortable in them, he slipped on his shirt.

"arms up," you nodded at his words, instantly shooting them straight up in the air. as he slid the shirt over your arms, you spoke. "can we watch love is blind?" your voice sounded tired, despite the facade you were keeping of being wide awake. "yeah," he promised as he helped you lay down. once you were dressed and covered, he moved to the other side of the bed. he climbed in next to you, and you tried to ignore the way your head spun as he shifted to get comfortable.

"do you wanna watch the new one?" he asked. "mhm," you hummed. he pressed play on it, knowing you'd be asleep by the time the intro scene ended.

[simpjaes]

in ur opinion who in enha is the biggest perv like the mf is so dirty minded to the point where he probably feels shame for it but can’t help himself when his mind wanders and he has to sneak off to thr nearest bathroom to get himself off because of u

MTL: hyung line + being a shameful perv

tags: this is kind of just general personality stuff, when it comes to "girls" just assume you are the girl in question.

most

★ sunghoon: be honest, you saw it coming right? sunghoon is definitely a pervert but probably cares a lot about who knows it and/or who he wants to keep that from. so on the days where it gets like....real bad....where he wants you so bad, but he knows he can't have you or something, he's running off to find somewhere, fucking anywhere to be alone so he can relieve the stress. otherwise? he won't be able to look you in the eye without saying something inappropriate or losing his mind over how hot you look in that fuckin' top. the type to slam you against the front door and start grinding the second yall step inside because he cant contain his cock and also, he wasn't allowed to say shit about it bc ur ass brought him to see your family at like...a church event or something idk

☆ jake: super perv and super bad at hiding it. also super ashamed when literally everyone sees it. i'm talking like, college parties getting to dance with you and trying to finger you on the couch type perverted. he isn't always in his right mind, either pussy drunk or feeling the intense need to be pussy drunk and no in-between. super ashamed of it though, because what's more embarrassing than walking around a college party with a boner? idk...maybe cumming in your pants because you grinded on him a bit too perfectly during that last song :/?? yeah, that might be worse. (he went home with tears in his eyes) disclaimer: jake would only be ashamed if anyone other than his girl saw him be so pathetic. he low key gets off on the embarrassment tho

★ jay: blatant pervert. the one who seems more down to earth and chill but also the one slapping your ass or staring right at your tits like "what i'd do to get my dick between those rn....."

probably struggles to get girls sometimes because of it ngl, but he has no shame about it either way. and man, when he does get between a girl's legs? everybody gonna hear about it. he might censor the name of the girl but he's doing a full show and tell otherwise. bro probably always begs to record his antics too. (he wants the praise and validation)

☆ heeseung: pervert to the max. worse than anyone and everyone. he isn't ashamed of it only because he's good at hiding it from the ppl who don't need to know. like this man would not give a fuck if he got caught slipping a hand up a skirt or eye fucking someone's sister tho (lmao), you're gonna know what he wants and he's not gonna mince words about it with you or anyone else.

what's that? you're dating jake? oh well why does that matter? Heeseung is still gonna let you know that you should think he's hot and if you want some of that dick, you know where to find him. he wants to be everyone's booty call and is an absolute simp and slut and all things in-between.

least

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 1)

pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: language, high-quality banter

words: 2.7k

Summary: You freshly moved to San Diego and were in desperate need for a job. That's how you wandered into the Hard Deck, following the "Help Wanted" sign in the window. Not only is it your first time working in a bar, the crowd it hosts is also very new to you and one navy pilot in particular managed to get under your skin quite qickly...

a/n: I've started working on this story back in November 2023 and haven't touched it since February 2024. I'm halfway through the main story line but I'm kinda stuck. I hope showing you guys gets the wheels working again. Feedback is much appreciated!!

Link to my masterlist

“Hello?”, you asked as you entered the bar. It was a big room with a round bar counter in the middle of it. Tables and booths were spread across the space and hundreds of beer mugs were hanging from the ceiling. But besides that, the room was empty.

“Hello?”, you called out again, a little louder this time. An older man came through a door to your left, a dish towel hanging over his right shoulder and a trey of empty glasses in his hands. “Oh, hey there”, he said as he laid eyes on you. “Hi. I saw the ‘Help wanted’ sign outside”, you explained your early visit to the establishment, pointing towards the door.

“Penny!”, he called out. “Oh no, my name is Y/N”, you corrected him. “Penny’s the boss, darling”, he said and walked past you with a grandfatherly smile to put the trey on the bar counter.

“Sorry”, you said and felt your cheeks burning up. Great first impression, you thought to yourself with embarrassment. “What is it, Jimmy?”, a tall brunette came out of the same door the man had just appeared from. “This girl’s here for the job”, Jimmy told his boss and pointed at you before he started putting away the glasses under the bar.

“Hi”, you said to her when she looked at you. “Penny”, she said and extended her hand with a smile. “Y/N”, you replied as you shook it. “Come with me to my office, I got a few minutes”, Penny said and led you to a booth nearby.

“So, you want to work at a bar?”, she opened the impromptu job interview. “Ehm, yes”, you said and it came out like a question. “Have you ever worked at a bar?”, she asked further. “No, but I learn really quickly and I’m good with people”, you hastily explained. “Tell me a bit about yourself”, Penny continued with a warm smile.

“I just moved here from New Jersey. Two days ago, actually. I’m a hard worker and I really need the job to pay rent, so you can be sure I’ll show up every day super motivated”, you told her and tried to cover your anxiety with humor like you always did.

“This bar is the hot spot for the naval base her in North Island, so a lot of guys with all sorts of ego and authority issues. You’re sure you can handle that?”, she asked and narrowed her eyes a little bit. “I had all kinds of jobs dealing with difficult people”, you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m confident about handling a bunch of drunk guys”, you continued.

Penny looked at you in silence, contemplating your words. “Alright, let’s try it”, she finally said after what felt like forever. “Really?”, you asked surprised. “Yes. We are closed on Mondays, so you’ll have to work every day for the rest of the week. We’ll talk again after your first weekend shift, they’re our busiest nights. If I’m happy with your work and you’ll like it, too, we’ll see where we go from there”, she explained to you and a big smile formed on your face. You shook her extended hand, sealing the verbal contract.

“Jimmy will show you anything. We open at five”, she said and scooted out of the booth and led you over to the bar circle. That was in three hours, you noticed as you looked at the big clock hanging on the wall behind the bar. Suddenly you became very nervous. Somehow you hadn’t thought that you would be working the same day.

She formally introduced you to Jimmy, the other bartender that was working here and that Penny got along with the bar she had purchased three years ago.

“Disrespect a lady, the navy or put your cellphone on my bar – you buy a round. These are the three golden rules in this bar”, she said as she recited the plaque that was hanging in the middle of the bar circle on the middle counter. “If anyone disobeys the rules, we ring the bell”, she continued and reached her hand out and rang a big bell that was hanging from the ceiling and the loud noise rang through the empty bar. “And then what?”, you asked a bit irritated. “Then they have to buy a round for the whole place”, she answered your question with a smile that let you know that she liked it when that happened.

“Wow, that sounds expensive when the bar is full, right?”, you asked. “It is and therefore the rules shall not be broken”, Jimmy chimed in and a deep chuckle escaped his lips. You had to chuckle, too, at his words. “And if they can’t pay, it’s Overboard”, he added and winked at you. “They get thrown out”, Penny answered your inaudible question as you raised your eyebrows. “Okay”, you said and it sounded like a question. “Just wait for it, you’re gonna love it”, Jimmy told you and knocked on the bar counter.

“Okay, I’m gonna leave you two for now. Jimmy, you’re gonna take good care of our new girl”, Penny said and walked out behind the bar. “Sure thing, boss”, he promised with a nod. “We’ll take care of the paper work tomorrow”, she said to you before she left through the door again.

Jimmy spent the rest of the time until opening to give you the basic instructions on how to pour the most common drinks, work the register and running tabs.

Your first ever shift in a bar, you spent mostly handing out drinks that Penny or Jimmy had prepared, opening bottles of beer and cleaning up the empty glasses off the tables. Before you knew it, Penny called out the last call of the night and sent you home as you had finished cleaning up.

Your feet hurt like hell and your back was killing you when you fell into bed but you were happy that you had found a job. Penny and Jimmy seemed nice and you were sure you would get the hang of the whole bartender thing.

Two days later you worked your first Thursday, which according to Penny, would be your first busy night. You had the basics somewhat down but you were still nervous about the evening rush.

You had just started your shift and always spent the first hour restocking the bar, checking the register and wiping down the counter one more time.

When Penny opened the doors at 5 PM a few people already started to come in but thankfully it was still slow going. Penny went back to her little back-room office at the end of the little corridor where you would also find the storage room and the restrooms for the guests.

You were at the bar alone and spent your time cutting some limes. A man sat down at the bar, putting his phone on the counter. “Hi, what can I get you?”, you asked him as you noticed your new customer and wiped your hands on your apron. “A Whiskey please”, he said and gave you a friendly smile. He looked a bit older, maybe in his early fifties? But he still looked very good.

You nodded and grabbed a tumbler from under the bar. Then you turned around and looked at the dozen liquor bottles behind you. You had no clue what a Whiskey bottle looked like.

“Whiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey”, you mumbled to yourself under your breath. Or so you thought.

“On the far right”, you heard behind you. When you looked over your shoulder, the man pointed at the right end of the line of liquor bottles. You smiled apologetically and walked over. You still didn’t reach for a bottle immediately. “Second from the right”, he added and you finally found the right bottle.

“Thank you”, you told him with an apologetic smile and felt your cheeks getting warm. You were sure they were turning a red color as you filled his glass about an inch tall.

“I’m still new”, you explained your incompetence for fulfilling a simple drink order. “They often keep them in alphabetical order”, he told you and winked at you almost in a fatherly manner, like he had shared a secret to life with you. And in your current situation, he really did.

You turned around and looked at the bottles from left to right. “Huh, she really did. Thank you”, you said to him when you turned back around. “I’ll pretend I didn’t just notice that after three days of working here”, you told him and made it sound like you were sharing a secret with him, too. He chuckled into his glass before he took a sip. His phone buzzed and when he picked it up, he turned away from you to answer a text.

You turned around as well and took a look at the line of liquor bottles, trying to memorize their order. “Y/N, can you get this in the back and bring the next case of beer?”, Penny asked of you as she appeared in the circle. “Yeah sure”, you agreed and took the empty box from her hands.

“You gotta be kidding me”, you heard her say and thought she was talking to you, but when you looked up, you saw her staring at the man with the Whiskey.

“Pete”, she said. The man looked up and turned back around. “Penny?”, he asked, clearly surprised to see her here. And yet this one word carried so much, you felt like you shouldn’t be here.

“I’ll get the beer”, you excused yourself and left the two to themselves. Before you finally left the room, you turned around at the door and saw how they looked at each other. There was definitely some history there. You bit your lip to hide a smile and finally left for the storage room.

When the evening rush hit, you were overwhelmed by the number of orders coming from every side. Damn circle. The three of you tried to handle every order as fast as you could. Penny and Jimmy had a certain ease to them, moving quickly but without haste. You on the other hand ran around like a startled chicken, always bumping into Penny and Jimmy and seemingly always being in their way.

“Here you go”, you said as you handed three bottles of beer to a man, putting the money in the register, already receiving the next order from a woman to your left.

A blonde man in a khaki navy uniform appeared through the crowd, commanding his place at the front of the line. “Three beers”, he said. “Just a moment”, you told him and bent down to grab the tall beer glasses for beers from tap and walking over to the middle of the circle to fill them up.

“Come on, I ain’t got all night”, he said with an annoyed tone in his voice after just a few seconds of waiting. “I’ll be right there”, you told him again, sounding more and more desperate.

You didn’t pay him any more attention as you were in the middle of drawing a beer but he suddenly appeared again in the corner of your eye. When you looked over, you found him behind the bar, just grabbing three beers out of the cooler and prying the caps off with the metal opener. “Hey!”, you called out, putting down the glass you were holding. “Put them on my tab”, he just said and walked in front of the bar again.

"I don't even know who you are", you said surprised by his cockiness. "Name's Hangman. And you gotta be quicker if you wanna earn some tips, sweetheart", he said and winked at you. "And you will never drink here again if I ever catch you behind my bar again", Penny said as she appeared behind you, handing two tumblers with a brown liquid to another guy at the counter. "Your girl needs to be faster if she doesn't wanna start a riot", he said with a southern accent and a cocky expression on his face before he turned around and disappeared in the crowd. You noticed him coming back out at the dartboard as you couldn’t stop looking at him. His boldness fascinated and angered you to no end.

“Hangman…is he for real?”, you asked Penny when you turned around again. “That’s his call sign as a pilot. They all got one”, she explained to you as she added the drinks to his tab. “Most of them go by their call sign even outside of base”, she continued. “His real name is Jake”, she added, all while keep preparing drinks and handing them out. With a cock of her head, she motioned you to open some beers and she handed them out.

"You can't let them walk over you like that, you need to command your space. And your space right now is this bar", she told you. Normally you weren't too shy to talk back, but since you were new, you still needed to test the waters. But you took this as Penny's permission to be a bit mouthier to customers if needed.

You looked over at the dartboard where Hangman played with another guy in Khaki uniform. “Jake”, you mumbled his real name under your breath. And just like he had heard you, he looked over to you, winked and threw the dart into bulls eyes while still looking at you. He probably expected you to be impressed or swoon, but instead you rolled your eyes so hard at him that you feared they would get stuck.

A little while later, when the rush was over and you had time and room to breathe, Hangman and two of his buddies came over for another round. "Three beers, sweetheart. And don't make me come back there again", he said and gave you another wink, paired with a sly smile. It took everything you had not to pull a face of disgust.

Pretty boys like him always thought they owned the world. You learned quite early on that guys like him never even looked your way, let alone were interested in you. And because of that you learned to push down any interest you might have in them and cover it with sarcasm and wit.

Instead of an answer, you opened three bottles and placed them from right to left, Hangman being the last. "8,50. 8,50. 12 Dollars", you said as you placed the beers in front of the men. "Hey, why's mine more expensive?", Hangman asked with knitted eyebrows. "Douchebag tax. And don't call me sweetheart", you told him and now it was your turn to shoot him a cocky grin while you collected the money from his friends.

“You wanna pay cash or want me to put it on your tab?”, you asked him, an image of innocence. He looked at you a bit stunned by your boldness. He probably wasn’t used to be spoken to like that.

"Come on, I ain't got all night", you told him and let him hear the impatience in your voice. “Put it on my tab”, he answered after a few moments, unsure what to make of your behavior and took a sip. You turned around and put his latest drink into the register.

“Anything else I can get you, gentlemen?”, you asked but looked only at his friends. They answered with a smile and a shake of their heads, seemingly enjoying the way you treated their friend and colleague.

The three of them kept sitting at the bar but you took care of other customers.

When Penny rang for last round, she served them their final beers of the night and closed their tabs as you started to collect the empty glasses from the tables.

Just as you walked past the dartboard with a full trey of empty glasses and bottles, Hangman took a step back and smashed into you. The glasses clinked together loudly but somehow you managed not to drop any of them. Your whole body stiffened until the glasses stopped shaking.

“Whoa, gotta be careful there. You don’t want 7 years of bad luck if you break them”, was his only comment. Not sorry for running into you because I’m too arrogant to be aware of my surroundings. “I already met you tonight, it can’t get any worse than that. Also, that’s mirrors not glasses”, you told him with an annoyed sigh and let the unspoken jerk hanging in the air as you walked back to the bar.

“Oh, we’re gonna have a lot of fun”, Hangman said to himself under his breath as he watched you walking away.

next chapter: Part 2

[mapofthesea]

producers!yoonmin x assistant!reader, fem!reader, bi!yoonmin

genre: smut with some plot, slight fluff

summary: There’s no telling just how long you'd been stuck in the windowless studio, and you’re just about ready to walk out and forfeit your paycheck for the week, until your bosses strike up an interesting bargain

warnings: swearing, slight arguing/playful name calling, mentions of alcohol consumption but no one is drunk, dom!yoonmin x sub!reader, unprotected sex (don’t do it), they're kind of in a situationship, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), masturbation, hair pulling, degradation, praise, spanking, choking, penetrative sex, some mxm, cum eating, big dick behavior and practice from both of them, hinting at feelings

a/n: this is mature content so if you are under 18 years old or uncomfortable with this, please do not go below the cut! I also do not proofread of edit my work so there may be some typos, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

When you’d first been hired, the request came through your temp agency, and you knew nothing other than the address before you showed up. By then you were no stranger to the life of an assistant; you had fallen into the line of work after failing to find a job in your field. The first few temp jobs were exactly what you expected. Fielding phone calls and delivering coffee to big wigs in uncomfortable, cheap dress clothes became your new normal for several months, so when you arrived at the gray office building you figured you knew what you were in for. 

Yoongi and Jimin proved to be nothing like your previous employers, and their charmingly personable attitudes made them unbelievably easy to work for. At the end of your week as their temp, you had pouted and delayed your departure by attempting to tidy up their shared studio. 

“You’re not a maid, you don’t have to do that.” Yoongi cooly remarked. Even with his ears sticking out endearingly from the sides of his beanie, his dark gaze made you freeze. 

“I-I know, I just- sorry.” You withered under his attention, shifting from foot to foot as you waited for the anxiety to pass. “I’ll go. Bye Yoongi, it’s been super nice working for you guys.” 

You kicked yourself as the wave of disappointment saturated your words. Yoongi hadn’t done anything wrong, and there was no reason to unload your sadness on him. 

“What? I thought they told you?” Yoongi chirped. “We hired you. I expect you to be back tomorrow.” An unbidden smile cracked your face and you couldn't help but notice Yoongi had mirrored it. 

“Oh, oh! Um, see you tomorrow then.” Your heart thumped embarrassingly fast as you skittered out of the office, only seeing the email full of praise from them once you were tucked into the comfort of your bed.

---

“Remember when you used to be nice to me?” You hiss at the man who had just fully sat on your shins, uncaring that you squirm under him. Jimin rolls his eyes at your remark and stays where he is until you snake your legs out from under him. 

“I am nice to you. I pay you.” Jimin coos and pulls your legs into his lap, his familiar touch skittering over your bare calves. After being their one and only assistant for a year and half, your working hours have become more muddled. Business often mixed with friendship, and the lines of professionalism had officially blurred to a proportion you never expected. 

“We also buy you food,” Yoongi cooly adds, plopping himself in the chair across from the two of you and sweeping his hand toward the boxes of empty takeout that dotted the coffee table. A microphone and mixing board live among the mess. You sigh listlessly. They had been working on this new song for hours, tossing ideas back and forth, and although they all sounded wonderful to you, neither of them were happy with anything. 

“Can I go home?” You drawl, feeling the strain of laying on the couch in the way your neck cricks and radiates a sharp headache. You subconsciously rub your fingers into the tightness at the base of your neck. 

“No,” Jimin answers immediately. You sit up straight on the couch and rip your legs from his lap. 

“Why?” It comes out whiny but you’re too tired to care, still rubbing at the knot in your neck. “Yoongi?” For a second you have hope he’ll let you go but he shakes his head, dark wavy strands slipping over his eyes. 

“Sorry, need you here.”

You sputter, disbelief making your eyes go wide. “Okay...can I at least go get you some coffee? More food? Or something?” Sitting in the darkened studio for so long with no definable task was making you feel a bit stir crazy. You had cycled through all of the games on your phone and been scolded for spending too much time on TikTok. Even the book you kept stashed in the bottom of your tote bag was only able to occupy you for so long. 

Yoongi shrugs, half of a grin on his lips. “Dunno. You have an untrained ear, slightly less bias, maybe you’ll add something to the process...” he trails, sinfully pink tongue slipping out between his lips. “You’ve also got potential as a muse.” 

God. It’s painfully cliche but it makes your heart stop and your thighs clench. Suddenly you feel too hot in your shorts and sweatshirt. Jimin tuts. 

“Potential.” He makes a half hearted jab, knowing all three of you are lingering on the same string of memories from just a couple of weeks before. You push the thoughts away and find a spot back on the couch, suddenly conscious of how close you sit to Jimin on the small couch.

He shuffles just close enough that your knees touch in a reassuring way that sends cascading warmth down your spine. Your face is surely flushed but you do your best to pretend you’re unfazed, picking at the skin around your cuticles as Yoongi fiddles with the soundboard.

“Again.” Jimin’s foot taps into the plush carpet in time to the music, and you know you’re in for a long night.

The track runs on a seemingly unending loop, only punctuated by your bosses bickering about technical intricacies and which word choices would serve the song better.

Yoongi fiddles with a new beat and you whine, sagging into Jimin’s side. He welcomes you into him and the intoxicating scent of his cologne has your eyes fluttering. His jaw ticks and you have to bite back the groan of desire as you watch his muscles clench and unclench as he concentrates, fingertips tapping the new rhythm in time against the top of your thigh.

For a moment you wish you were drinking; dumbly wanting to feign needing help opening the soju bottle just to hear Jimin’s little coos of how delicate you are, to have Yoongi gently take back your hair to see your flushed face when he thinks you’ve had too much to drink. Your saliva suddenly feels too thick and your head spins with the barrage of lustful thought. Jimin’s hand feels as hot as lava on your thigh and the sight of Yoongi’s finger circling one of the little knobs with deft precision makes your stomach tumble. 

“I-are you guys hot?” Your voice is raspy as you spring up from the couch, resisting the urge to fan yourself with your hands. Embarrassingly, they both shake their heads and you catch sight of the thermostat set clearly to cool. Yoongi chuckles as he seems to look inside of your head at the neurons connecting as a flush of embarrassment crosses your face. 

“I’ll be right back,” the words are barely out before you leave the room, slipping into the hallway and all but sprinting to the bathroom. Your body feels both too hot and too cold at the same time, and under the harsh overhead light of the bathroom the dark circles under your eyes are prominent, your baby hairs sticking up in wild directions from your scalp. You bend over the sink, gripping onto the cold porcelain. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your words echo into the bowl of the sink but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed about the potential of either of them hearing you over their music. You stand, glaring at the image of yourself in the mirror for a few seconds before you decide you have probably been hiding in here for a suspicious amount of time. Determined to find a way for them to let you go home, you barrel out of the bathroom and back into the hallway. 

“Hi,” Yoongi’s voice startles you, and his presence in the cramped space is even more alarming. In all the time you've known him, he's never been one to completely abandon his post while in the thick of the production process. 

“...Hi? Are you guys done?” A kernel of hope lights in your chest. If they’re done, you can make your escape to home and deal with the heavy pull of arousal in you core by yourself. Yoongi shakes his head no and raises his hands above him, stretching his arms and allowing your eyes to feast on a strip of creamy skin above his waistband. Your face reheats, tongue darting out to lick your chapped lips. He looks divine. 

Yoongi’s eyes follow your own, and a beautiful little smirk sprouts on his face. “Just came to use the bathroom.” His voice rumbles the same way it did when he dropped you off at your doorstep a few weeks ago with a sinful kiss and your knees quiver.

You nod stupidly, tripping over your own feet as you side step the door to allow him passage. He dips his head in a subtle nod and as he approaches and you can smell the musk of his cologne. Despite the step you took away he makes an effort to brush by you, one of his strong hands clasping gently around your own. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath until he leaned in close enough that you could pick out his individual eyelashes. His thumb presses into the back of your hand, a firm reminder of the reality of the situation as his words slip into the air between you. 

“We’re both willing to take a break, if you could think of something else more...interesting to occupy us.” His canines sparkle in the light of the hall and you have the overcoming desire to feel them scrape against your neck. 

“B-both of you?” The question all but jumps from your mouth, a product of your disbelief of the last night they had made you feel this way, which you were still partly convinced was just a delusion of your drunkenness. Yoongi nods, strands of hair obscuring his heavy stare. 

“Yes.” He’s gone in a flash, the bathroom door shutting behind him. The thud reverberates through your body and you stand stunned in the hallway, body buzzing with anticipation. Jimin is waiting just beyond the wall, and the image of his legs spread wide on the couch just waiting for you and Yoongi to return springs into your mind. Desire drives your feet and before you know it you’re back in the dimly lit studio, palms sweating when you finally see him again. 

“You’re back.” His voice is cool and level, gaze fixed on you as you approached him. Suddenly emblazoned by the knowledge Yoongi had given you, you nod and edge closer to the couch. 

“Heard you’re looking to take a break?” Jimin’s eyes cloud with the realization of your words, seeing through the facade of your question easily. He swipes his plush bottom lip with his thumb and hums in affirmation. “If you’re willing to provide one?” His voice is thick with lust, sending butterflies through your stomach.

The subtle tilt of his head is all it takes for you to advance toward him, plopping yourself easily onto his thigh, facing the mess of the coffee table. His hands are immediately on your hips; fingers digging into the flesh with an addicting pinch of pain. Your hips rut at the contact, pushing into the muscle of his leg. The pressure sends a spike of arousal down your spine that makes you moan and Jimin responds by curling his fingers under the waistband of your shorts. His fingertips feel like ice against your hot skin, and he uses the shock to gain control of your hips. 

There’s no use putting up a fight once he has you, manually rocking your core against his leg. Even though you can’t see him, you can hear his little pants of appreciation as your head rolls back against your shoulders. The fabric of your underwear is slick and pulling right against your clit, the layers of friction making you feel like you’re going crazy. Your nails dig into Jimin’s arms, enjoying the feeling of his muscles moving. 

The door swings open and even though you know it’s Yoongi you gasp, whipping your head toward him. Your face flushes at being caught but Yoongi simply appraises you, eyes roving over your heaving chest and Jimin’s grip on your hips. The weight of Yoongi’s stare only makes you wetter, slicking the crotch of your cotton shorts a darker shade. Jimin chuckles and moves faster, allowing a consistent grind of pressure against your clit that makes tears edge your eyelids. 

You gasp, arms flailing outward hopelessly. In your scramble your arms clash into Yoongi’s form, scrabbling to hook into the fabric of his hoodie as your clit throbs and your climax approaches. Yoongi’s hands encircle your face, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail and stooping down until you can feel his breath against your cheeks. 

“Pretty girl,” he flutters his thumb against your lashes until you open your eyes. “There you are.” His feline gaze turns your brain to liquid, enjoying the attention from Yoongi while Jimin gives you the release you’ve been waiting for. 

“P-please,” you struggle around the words, and don't have the energy to articulate your needs, but Jimin holds your hips still and bounces his leg, baring your pussy down against him directly. Unable to squirm away from the pleasure, a moan rips from your throat into Yoongi’s chest as you come, pitching forward as the pleasure curls your toes. Despite your exhaustion you continue to cant your hips against Jimin’s leg after you come until Yoongi tuts and pulls you up slightly, depriving you of the surface. 

“Look at the fucking mess you made of my pants, baby.” Jimin growls. Your face flushes in embarrassment but you can’t deny that the sight only turns you on more. Knowing that you were the one responsible for the mess on his sweatpants and the subsequent bulge makes your mouth water. On unstable legs you pull from Yoongi’s embrace and lean down over Jimin, giving your other boss a prime view of your ass in the ridden-up shorts doing little to preserve your modesty. His hands are on you immediately, tugging down the fabric of your shorts and panties as soon as you nod your approval. 

“Can I kiss you?” You relish the way Jimin’s cheeks sport a pretty blush at your question as he nods. A warm fuzzy feeling spreads through your chest as you connect your lips with his own, gently coaxing out the demon of a man you know lives inside- the one who pushed his cock down your throat in the backseat of his car the last time you went out together.  Yoongi’s deft fingers part your folds and you moan into the kiss which only spurs Jimin on. His tongue finds a home in the depths of your mouth at the same time that Yoongi spreads your asscheeks with his hands, humming at the sight of your bared pussy. He pauses all movements, making you twirl your hips impatiently, before releasing a glob of spit that runs hot over your pussy. You shiver, keening at the embarrassingly attractive action. He wastes no time running his fingers between your lips, circling your clit with your combined wetness until your knees go weak. Jimin bites your lip and disconnects the two of you, staring sinfully at the trail of saliva that connects you. 

“Yoongi gonna make you cum again?” The question is rhetoric, but you still nod furiously at the idea. Yoongi laughs heartily, clearly amused by the desperation. 

“Gonna do more than make you cum, baby.” Your head swivels back to catch a look at him sinking onto his knees, easily pushing the coffee table back so he has ample room to work. Your pussy flutters at the idea of him eating you out, a dream that had been plaguing you since you first heard him craft some of his most infamous lyrics. 

You're so enamored at the glassy look in his eyes that you almost miss Jimin asking to shed your sweatshirt. The fabric comes off easily, goosebumps arriving as the garment leaves you. Jimin groans as he’s presented with your tits, hanging perfectly in front of his face as you're bent over for Yoongi. 

Jimin captures one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging at the nub like a man starved. Yoongi dives into your pussy, licking a broad stripe all the way through your folds. His tongue splits your lips and explores every possible inch. 

“Oh god,” the sensation of them both working on you makes you feel lightheaded, in total disbelief of the way the night has gone. “F-feel so good.” You mewl as Yoongi licks tight circles around your clit, Jimin’s teeth scraping against the sensitive skin at the curve of your breast as his hand engulfs the other, pulling and pinching in all the right places. 

“I- can’t fucking, oh my god-” no words seem to do justice to the feeling of pure arousal slipping through you, and the lewd sounds of being devoured sends your mind into a perfectly numb lull. Jimin and Yoongi are everything, everywhere, moving in a sinful tandem of lips and teeth that you don’t think you will ever recover from. The bubbling heat in your stomach rises, aided by the slurps of Yoongi absolutely devouring you, his nose digging into you as he pushes his tongue as deep as possible into your hole. You can only imagine how wet his face will be when he pulls away; chin, cheeks and lips stained with the evidence of your arousal. 

Your legs wobble, knees shaking from the effort of keeping your body upright as your orgasm barrels toward you. Jimin scrapes the top row of his teeth across your nipple as you come, body trapped between two sources of unending pleasure. The short break between orgasms has made you dizzy, keening as Yoongi devours every drop you give him. Over sensitivity rushes in, and the men work faster than your blissed out brain can comprehend.

Once the ringing in your head stops, you can feel the delicate press of Yoongi’s lips against the backs of your thighs: Jimin’s cool fingertips soothing down the bites he created on your chest.

“Come on, pretty. Such a good girl. Come lay down.” Jimin’s hands pull you gently, easily back onto the couch where you had spent countless hours before. The cool leather feels amazing against your heated skin and you quickly resign yourself to pressing the entire front of your body into it, head propped on Jimin’s thigh. This close, there was no mistaking the heavy bulge in the front of his pants. Your fingers twitch, inching toward him.

Yoongi’s dark chuckle makes you pause, peering up to see him standing over you, a satisfied smirk on his face. Just as you’d imagined his chin is covered in a gleam that could only come from being buried deep in your pussy. Your hips twitch against the couch.

“You wanna suck Jimin’s cock? Will you let me sit and watch you make him come?” You nod dumbly against Jimin’s leg, not daring to take your eyes off of Yoongi as he maneuvers himself back into his trusty chair. He sits and makes no secret of palming at himself through his shorts as your mouth waters.

“Please?” You ask, as if they would ever be able to deny you anything. You can feel the sweat drying onto your body, and the heat reigniting in your stomach makes you restless. Wiggling your fingers playfully toward his cock, you fix Jimin with your best pleading stare.

“You know this cock belongs to you, baby. Take it.” Heat flushes your cheeks as you scramble for his waistband. Suddenly seized with an insatiable hunger to have your mouth filled to the brim. Jimin lifts his hips in aid, exposing inches of flawless skin before his cock springs to life, unbidden by any clothing. He takes the break to pull off his top, balling it up and throwing it directly into Yoongi’s face. The older man grumbles in good nature and swats the shirt away. Your hips push against the couch cushion as you reach for him, the weight and warmth of his impressive cock making your head spin. Jimin moans at your touch, encouraging you to pump your hand over him slowly.

He intakes a ragged breath as you speed up, impatient with yourself. “C’mon baby, take it.” He grinds out the words and you shiver, shuffling forward until you can comfortably lower your head over him, wrapping your lips around the tip. It had been only a few weeks since the last time you gave him head, but that didn’t make his length any easier to adjust to. Your eyes water at the intrusion as you push further down, wiggling your tongue against the underside. Jimin’s thighs twitch under your ministrations.

“You’re so fucking good at that, Y/N.”

Emboldened, you push more of him down your throat until you’re fighting against a gag, spit dripping down to the base of his cock. Unable to go further, your hand occupies the rest, pumping in time with the movement of your head. The mess of praise and the burn of Yoongi’s eyes on your body makes you moan around him.

Jimin’s hips immediately jump, pushing further into your mouth. Your eyes widen and tears push forward as Jimin takes full advantage of your mouth, your nails scrabbling at his thighs as you try to clear your mind.

“Shhh, baby. Look so pretty drooling and dumb on my cock. Our girl is so good, isn’t she Yoongi?” Jimin’s voice shakes, a giveaway of his impending orgasm.

“The best girl,” Yoongi’s voice is clipped, and even though your eyes are blurred with tears you’re sure he’s working his hand over his own cock. You moan again, using the vibration to your advantage as Jimin grips your hair, holding you in place.

Your lungs constrict as his whines reach a peak, cock twitching incessantly until he’s coming. You swallow with every spurt he gives you, the bitterness easy to dismiss in the heat of the moment. Jimin’s grip loosens just as the last ropes of his cum shoot out, streaking across your chin and lips. He grins, satisfied at the mess and your performance. His now free hand takes a handful of your ass, pinching it and landing a slap against the flesh.

“Open?” He asks almost sheepishly. You obey easily, putty in his hands as he inspects your mouth to be sure you swallowed everything he gave you. He hums happily at the sight, gathering up the stray bits of cum on your face with his thumb before pushing it into your mouth. You suck the pad of his thumb clean, eyes heavy with lust as you swirl your tongue around it. Jimin growls, ripping the appendage out to slap your ass a few times in quick succession.

The pain makes your spine curve with pleasure and you almost can’t believe how wet you are again, but Jimin’s fingers quickly dip into your pussy, cooing when he feels your slick coating his fingers. Your own mouth parts in a frustrated groan, annoyingly aware of how achingly empty you are.

“Please fuck me.” Your voice is raw and shaky, and you worry that maybe their inaction means they couldn’t hear you. Jimin’s hand stays steady against the swell of your ass while you wiggle your hips in frustration. Impatient tears well in your eyes as you watch Yoongi slowly remove his hand from his cock; the tip an angry red from all the time he spent playing with it while you sucked Jimin’s cock. It feels like years pass before he even gets up from the chair.

“You wanna get fucked?” His deep voice makes your heart do cartwheels in your stomach. Yoongi’s hand caresses the nape of your neck, lightly combing through the mussed strands there. You nod vigorously, attempting to sit up so that you can convey your need to him even more.

“Please Yoongi, please I’ll do-“ a sharp tug on your hair makes your brain short circuit, words dying in your mouth. Your breathing turns shallow, anticipatory when he uses his primal grip on you to pull your body upwards until you’re sitting up on the couch. From here you are afforded the full view of them both. Jimin’s chest is still heaving from coming, his body covered in a sheen of sweat that only makes his appear more surreal in the dim studio lights. Yoongi had shed both his shirt and bottoms, presumably while you were busy with Jimin. His cock bobs against his stomach, gleaming with precum as he moves. Your heart jumps at the proximity of Yoongi’s body, the way you can see the veins in the arm that holds your hair flex as he pulls your scalp harder. You keen, hips pushing against the air at the sprouting pain. Yoongi laughs, licking at his gleaming canines you want to feel buried deep in your shoulder blade.

His grip holds you still, obedient as your eyes dart wildly between them, hungry to see what their next move will be.

“Such a patient girl for us, right Yoongi?” Jimin’s velvet voice makes you want to cry out and beg for release again, but you bite your tongue so you don’t miss what he says.

“Hmm, very patient.” Yoongi appraises you, sitting at attention, nipples pebbled with your arousal. “Although I think she could stand to wait a bit longer.” Your eyes widen, surprised and momentarily terrified they were going to leave you in the dust.

“No no no no, please don’t!” You can’t stop the tinge of anxiety that spikes through you, the sudden concern that they no longer wanted you if they had each other. Not to mention the burning desire that you knew you wouldn’t be able to quell even with your most favorite vibrator. Hot tears let loose down your cheeks, dripping off of your chin in mere seconds.

“Hey, baby, stop,” Yoongi’s hand releases your hair to tap at your cheek, light enough that you blink through your tears to focus on him. He smiles in the sweet gentle way you’ve come to know means he’s sincere. You can feel Jimin’s calloused fingers brushing gently over your shoulders, curling into the tensed muscles as you ground yourself.

“Do we need to stop?” All of the air in the room gets sucked out with his words, all three of you frozen in time.

“No, no,” You puff out. “Don’t wanna stop.” You grasp his arm, fingernails digging into his milky flesh. “I j-just feel so empty.”

His cat like grin returns at your words, your tears receding into glossy begging eyes. “Oh, baby, you’ll be full of cock in no time. Can you sit pretty for just a few more moments?”

Curious as to why you need to wait, you watch Yoongi intently, but are somehow still shocked when he catches Jimin’s plush lips in an earnest kiss. The younger man sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s frame. The way their lips move together is mesmerizing, and you faintly remember watching them kiss once before, when you were admittedly drunk and thought maybe you were mistaking the passion between them.

Now you knew for sure what you were seeing, and that it was making fresh waves of arousal drip down your thigh. Jimin reaches for Yoongi’s cock, stroking him with playfully light touches you know are meant to drive him crazy. You can see everything from your seat on the couch, and their symphony of moans sends your hand right between your thighs. You rub your clit in time with Jimin’s tugs, making sure to keep the touch just as feather light as it seems to be for Yoongi.

As sensitive as you are, even the simple touch is making your mind go hazy, losing yourself in the moment and the feeling of your own hand. You moan, pressing down into the pressure of your hand: embarrassing close to coming again just from watching your bosses make out.

“I thought I asked you to sit pretty?” Yoongi’s voice is clipped and breathy at having just pulled Jimin’s hand off of him, but it still startles you enough that you rip your hand away feeling like you had been caught.

“I-I’m sorry, it was just,” you stumble on the words, face flushed as you decide on how much you should admit. Jimin raises an inquisitive eyebrow, his cock fluttering back to life.

“Hot?”

Your blush deepens but you nod, hair falling into your face. Yoongi seems less amused at your disobedience, but the dark look on his face only makes you want him inside of you more. You bite back the whimper growing in your throat and still, waiting for instruction.

Yoongi’s steps forward, easily crowding your vision until he’s all you can see. One hand grips your throat, lightly at first, then increasingly hard as he sees the delight in your eyes. The press of his hand over your throat is intoxicating, just the perfect amount of pressure that has your mouth hanging open absentmindedly. You feel good, knowing that you he was going to take care of you. Jimin’s deep groan at the sight reminds you that he’s there just moments before Yoongi breaks your distance and captures your lips in a kiss.

It’s nothing as gentle and sweet as the few you’d shared before. His teeth are immediately nipping into your bottom lip, tongue surging forward into your mouth without abandon. Spit slicks down your chin and over your cheeks and you moan at the feeling, Yoongi practically swallowing you up like you’re the last person on earth. Through it all he keeps control of you by the hand on your neck, only letting up when you’re gasping for air.

You feel oddly vacant without his hand on your throat, but you have a feeling it won’t be the end of your experience with it.

“Such a pretty, desperate little thing. Can’t wait to fill you up, fuck.” Yoongi’s eyes flutter at the thought and before you know it he’s moving you, pressing the length of your body down against the couch. You’re acutely aware that Jimin must have moved to the chair to make room for you, but all thoughts get wiped from your head as Yoongi looms over you.

Your legs part, unashamed for him to see just how wet you are. He grins, kneeling between them and fisting himself a few times.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi, wanna feel you inside.” The stream of consciousness barrels out of you, followed by a string of curses as he obeys and pushes the head of his cock into you. The stretch is intense despite your extreme arousal, but the loving hands caressing your stomach help morph the feeling into pure pleasure. When the clouds of pain start to clear you moan, high and loud, latching onto the cushions under you.

“You look so good split open on my cock.” Yoongi works his hips into a smooth rhythm immediately, eyes honed in on the sight of your pussy swallowing him up. The press of him inside of you is serendipitous, the perfect angle means he’s nudging against your gspot with every single push.

“Prettiest fucking girl, look at you taking cock so well again.” Jimin is suddenly beside you, hands groping your tits again. You keen, overwhelmed with the sensations as white hot pleasure burns through you. Yoongi speeds up, bracing his foot for more leverage on the perfect angle as he pounds into you.

“So f-full,” you gasp out, tears of pleasure running into your hairline. Your clit throbs for attention, the final thing you need to fall headfirst into that wonderful pleasure. You gasp and writhe, pushing your hips upward to meet his thrusts.

“If you don’t stop that I’m gonna come right inside of you.” The words are a warning but your pussy immediately reacts by gripping his cock tighter. A broken moan spills from his mouth and he growls.

“Wan’ it.” The words come out soft, strangled by the loud squelching of your pussy, but Jimin is close enough to hear. He turns toward you, smiling with the intensity of a million suns.

“You want him to come inside of you? Fill that pussy up and make you ours?” Jimin is sure to speak loud enough that Yoongi will hear, but the man drilling into you looks pointedly only at your face, awaiting his confirmation. You look between them both, shivering with need.

“Yes, wanna have Yoongi come in me,” you lick your lips, “please, and,” You pause as Yoongi swipes his finger across your clit after hearing your affirmation. The last bits of your sanity are about to be washed away with your orgasm, but you breathe through it.

“W-wait!” You yell, Yoongi stilling as well as he can so close to his orgasm.

“Want Jimin too.” You gasp, barely trusting your words. The man grins, placing a kiss on the swell of your breast.

“Of course, baby, I’m so fucking hard right now I can’t imagine not coming all over these pretty tits.”

Tears of frustration brim again, hormones going crazy.

“No, in me.” You whine, petulant at the idea of him not coming inside you tonight. Both of their eyes widen, staring at you like you had just unlocked the secret to eternal life. Yoongi’s thrusts return with vengeance, finger circling your clit deftly.

“Can’t get enough of it, huh? Such a little slut that just one man coming in you isn’t enough?” You nod as his cock twitches, moments away from your own blinding orgasm. Jimin’s lips are devouring your neck, seemingly emblazoned by your admission. It only takes a few more swipes of Yoongi’s nimble fingers before you come, back arching off of the couch like a woman possessed.

The sounds and curses that leave you are barely human and essentially decipherable as your body warms under the glow of an intense orgasm. When Yoongi finally comes, your pussy gripping him tightly so he doesn’t leave, he continues strumming at your clit until your nerves feel set on fire.

“Good girl, taking all my fucking come.” Yoongi praises you as he finally pulls out, watching his come slip out with him before he retreats to stand beside you. Your head is still in the clouds, mind numb from absolute pleasure as Yoongi pats your thighs so he can get out from between them.

Jimin brushes the sweat slicked strands of hair off of your forehead, leaning close enough to him that you can see his individual eyelashes.

“Still got it in you? Want another load?” Your stomach flips, pussy clenching at the idea and you nod so hard it makes your neck hurt. Yoongi shuffles up until he’s next to your head, obviously sleepy as he plops down onto the floor with a lazy grin. He kisses your cheek playfully as Jimin moves.

He wastes no time in assuming the same position Yoongi had just left. Pliant and fucked out, you give him an exhausted smile as you watch him line up and push into your entrance.

“Still so fucking tight even though you just got railed. So willing to have two cocks back to back.” Jimin’s voice burns through you, low and sexy in a way you rarely get to enjoy. His eyes twinkle as you nod, gasping at the length of his cock. He begins his onslaught even faster than Yoongi had, pushing through your walls with a blindingly perfect rhythm.

“F-Fuck me so well,” you slur, grasping for his arms as he drills into you. Jimin is gasping, clearly close to his own end as you start to feel the hazy warmth of an orgasm come on. Yoongi kisses you even more as your moans heighten, sure not to cover your mouth so that they get to hear every sound you can give them. “You’re gonna look so pretty full of me and Jimin’s come, so fucked out and dripping.”

Even without any attention to your clit his words have you just seconds away from coming, and you warn Jimin of this.

“Already gonna come without me even having to touch your little clit? So fucking wet and desperate that just my cock will do it?” Your head spins, eyes tipping back into your head. His hips stutter, faltering for just a second as your knees lock, pushing his cock even further into you until you’re coming. Your eyes squeeze shut as you scream your throat raw calling his name and begging for his come.

You can’t stop the tears that spill out of you even after you feel him empty into you, the weight of his body pressing into your own as he makes sure not to waste a drop. You pant together, chests rising and falling in time. The way your skin sticks together doesn’t even bother you right now, but Jimin moves just slightly and the cool air rushes in.

You mumble, still working on feeling like a human again.

“What’s that?” It’s Yoongi, who’s still sitting by your side, laying his head against Jimin’s toned bicep.

“Cold.” You try, voice absolutely wrecked. You poke at Jimin’s side. “Heavy, too. Move.” You wiggle beneath him and he sits up, giggling at your sudden attitude. He’s still lodged inside of you, his and Yoongi’s come slowly leaking out of you and onto the couch, but this somehow feels just as normal as your usual day at work. Another chill passes through your body and Yoongi tuts, striding order to the thermometer. You and Jimin both watch his naked form as he goes, cranking the number up so that the room gets hotter.

“Told you we keep it too cold in here,” he mutters to Jimin, who shrugs and looks down at the mess between your legs. You flush.

“Sorry about the couch.” Jimin laughs as he pulls out, clearly still a little aroused at the sight of come pouring out of you.

“Fuck the couch. It’s your spot anyway.” His fingers dance over your pussy and you whine, shaking your head and clamping your thighs shut.

“Too sensitive.” It’s simple, and he nods easily, slipping off of the couch. You lose sight of him for a second before he’s back, slipping your sweatshirt back over your head. The warmth instantly cures you, putting a satisfied smile on your face. Yoongi reappears from what you assume to be the bathroom with a damp towel, silently asking your permission before gently cleaning you up.

Your legs twitch and you have to physically bite back a moan when he runs the fabric over your clit, but you’re happy to be cleaned and have him help you into your shorts. He hands the towel off to Jimin as you sit up, pointedly looking away from the mess on the couch.

“Shit, forgot about that!” Yoongi springs forward, shirt halfway on. He leans over the coffee table and flicks off a switch, the recording equipment going dead. His face blanches as he looks over at you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t turn it off before we…” his hands wave uselessly in front of him. Jimin, at least dressed, looks equally mortified.

“We can delete it all! I promise, we won’t even listen to it again! I’ll do it right-“

Your laugh bubbles out of you and stops them both in their places.

“I don’t care, guys.” Their faces twist in confusion. Surely you wouldn’t want them to keep it? “You were stuck on the song anyway. Use it as the backtrack or something.” You shrug, taking supreme delight in the surprise on their faces.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Jimin groans, appreciative, and you glow under their eyes. He immediately dashes over to the computer, locating and examining the file. Yoongi finishes redressing and even wipes off the couch before bundling you into his chair with him. His hands comb through your matted hair and examine the marks on your neck until he deems you to be okay.

“Thanks for the song inspiration.” He chuckles, mouth tucked against the nape of your neck.

“Happy to help. Let me know the next time you need some new ideas.” Despite your sleepiness the idea makes you squirm, to which Yoongi groans.

“I have a feeling we’ll be needing lots of new ideas. For a very long time.” Maybe you’re crazy, or cock hungry, but you swear you feel him twitch against your ass. “But for now you should probably go home.” You both watch Jimin as he fiddles with some instrumentals, layering them over the peaky audio the three of you recorded on the desktop before popping on his headphones.

Yoongi sighs. “You’re sleepy, and if you stay here any longer while we mix this you’re definitely not gonna be walking tomorrow.”

[the-traveling-poet]

Her Kind Heart

How, after all he had seen her endure, could she still smile? How could her heart be so full after being so broken? It was something Levi had admired, and soon came to love. How could he not, when she taught him many a value?

Pairing: Levi x F!Reader

Warnings: none, just platonic-to-lovers, Levi POV

Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @pelicanpizza @humanitys-strongest-brat @raginginferno267 @ackermanswifee If you’d like to be added to the taglist for new Levi contact, just DM me :)

A/N: I got this request over on Wattpad, but I wanted to post this here as well. Also ps, I meant to post this earlier in the day (for me, in EST time) but I got into a fight with a drunk man aka my father so it got postponed :)

Time and time again, he’d witnessed battle outside the walls harden and change many a cadet and captain alike.

They would become closed off, emotionally absent or angry. Some became paranoid and even lashed out against command from angers and griefs understood by themselves only.

Yet others succumbed to their traumas and became a shell of who they once were; a mere shadow of a soldier fighting for a cause they no longer believed in.

Why then, if this held true more often than not, hadn’t she fallen to these outcomes? How was her fate different than anyone else before her?

He’d seen her around HQ often enough to notice her usual cheer undiminished by the obstacles they all faced inside and outside the walls as Scouts. Ever she remained as radiant as the day he’d met her, against the odds he had silently betted upon.

Ms. Y/N L/N. She was as puzzling as she was alluring.

He’d supposed her rise in ranks might dull her gentle approach to her comrades and that kind twinkle ever present in her eye, but these things hadn’t changed. Not once. He’d never once seen even a flinch in her presentation.

How could someone witness such carnage and hopelessness, and yet remain so positive? So in control over their own heart and mind? Yet she managed, with a grace that surprised even the most weathered of veterans.

He’d managed to ask her once, masking indifference to her response despite his inner turmoil. And her answer had been as assertive as ever she always was;

“Someone needs to bring forth the morale in the barracks around HQ, so I stepped up. Many have and many will, so why not me also? Is that an issue?”

“I never said it was an issue, but how can you have the energy for it? Many have filled those shoes and fallen into the same pit they tried to help others out of,”

Levi had recounted, leaned against the stone wall at his back.

At first, he figured by her silence that Y/N wouldn’t have an answer; something he had been banking on. But to his surprise, she eventually met his eye from across the narrow hall with a kind and somehow knowing smile adorning her face.

“Why give up based on another’s downfall? They did what they could with what they had, and that’s what I plan to do. They deserve happiness just as much as myself. As we all do. Even you, Captain. Especially you.”

He’d looked at her differently ever since.

Sure, he could have snapped back with some crude imitation of humor, or pressed his rank above her at the time to show he’d know better than her how far morale got one in this line of work.

But something in him just couldn’t fathom arguing her point; she was right, after all.

And she’d spoke with such a calm certainty, that even he believed her the moment she spoke.

He began to see just how wise in the way of emotions she could be, if one paid close enough attention. And after that first official interaction, he certainly had.

As time passed, in which he mulled her response over daily, he supposed he’d never thought of things her way.

Morale was important to maintain within one’s own squad, to follow command efficiently and without doubt in your leader to complete the mission; or at least attribute to it.

He’d learned this through his training with Erwin following his ‘capture’. So of course, he was sure of this knowledge. Hadn't he been?

But to instill that hope in those around you who couldn’t find it within their own mind and heart to have a hope beyond their mundane lives? Especially those outside the line of command and even outside the military itself that had no connection to her personally? To show them that same hope and leadership, without the military rank to back it up…What would she gain?

What of the merchants he’d witnessed her pass and bid good luck onto? What of the common people she would pass on horseback on her way back into the safety of the walls after an expedition and offer her condolences before she even recognized her own exhaustion? How had they earned her personal reassurance?

He admired this about her, admittedly. It wasn’t often he found himself admiring others, he later came to realize. Not because he felt himself superior to anyone; far from it. Rather, he supposed he’d never allowed room in his heart for such grievances and responsibility outside his personal loyalties. Of course, his loyalties were to saving and freeing mankind; but had he ever considered the finer details of emotion ranging into areas he hadn’t yet reached himself? Or at least, allowed himself to reach?

That was where his friendship with Y/N had first blossomed; over idle chitchat debating one’s idea of freedom, should it come to humanity one day. Soon enough they debated their differing opinions on affairs both inside and outside the military; some of which he came to realize he agreed with her on over his own views. Her care for those around her, regardless of the profit it would gain her, which often times was none, continued to surprise him.

A sullen cadet at wit’s end, a Captain stressed to their limits, a child in the town with a quivering lip…She would tend to them as if they were her own. This in itself took him the longest to understand. And even when he had finally asked, and she had explained, it took him a little longer to fully grasp.

“That cadet wasn’t assigned to you. It’s their Captain’s job to see to their well-being,” Levi had hummed, encountering her after such an event. Y/N had merely shrugged, a warm smile still perched on her lips.

“I didn’t see their Captain around; yet they still looked so distraught.” She’d shrugged.

“You aren’t their mother.” Levi had huffed, though there was no venom to his quip. Y/N seemed to pick up on this, and offered no scowl.

“Why couldn’t I be, at least temporarily? We all need unity in times of uncertainty. That’s what makes us human.”

And how that phrase had stuck with him for years to come. Perhaps it wasn’t so wrong to reach out for guidance and company when needed…

It wasn’t until a handful of years into knowing her as his trusted friend and companion did he realize what allure she held. Not just in spirit, but in beauty; though he supposed deep down he’d always seen her attraction.

Wether it was from the looks he observantly noted with distain from the townsfolk or fellow military men and women in the MP that made him feel bitter, or from the time spent comfortably in her company being guided and comforted by her words alone; he’d realized a little late that he’d fallen for her wise and caring charisma.

Another handful of years would pass with him being stuck in his own denial and self diagnosed delusion, until he’d have the courage to face these ever growing emotions within his heart when they became too much for him to keep silently to himself. And perhaps even a little longer still until he’d actually act upon them.

But for the meantime, he was content with keeping her closer than anyone else around him, devoting his all to her saftey and her well-being in hopes to repay her own emotional support and understanding to him all these years.

Until he deemed the time was right to confess his heart, her ever present serene and calming aura was something he knew he couldn’t ever give up.

[forgeofthenine]

Hello! Might I request a little spicy spice about inviting Zevlor to spend the night with you at the camp party? (Goddamn Larian, why fill our camp with all these hot tieflings and only allow us to bang the companions)

Of course you can Anon! I was going to do a full fic but it wasn't quite working how I wanted so this is kind of a mix between headcanons and fic? Either way, I hope you enjoy :)

NSFW ahead, gender neutral reader and no warnings needed

Seducing Zevlor at the tiefling party

Zevlor would definitely be a bit of a wallflower for the party

He's hanging back watching everyone enjoy themselves while nursing a drink

It's obvious to him how everyone is near throwing themselves at you, so imagine his surprise when you come up to him batting your eyelashes and holding his bicep

You're either tipsy or just drunk off the atmosphere around you, and Zevlor can't tell if you're actually coming onto him

Everyone else can see your infatuation from a mile away, however

Once you do manage to lead him away from the group it's all too easy to pull him into a kiss by his collar

He freezes for a moment before kissing back

When he does kiss back, his hands finding a firm grasp on your hips, it's magical

After this it's shockingly easy to get Zevlor into your bed

Just give him a little reassurance that he's not too old for you, that he is the one you want

It's not surprising that Zevlor absolutely wants to take things slow

You both could die any day, he wants to enjoy this night with you to it's absolute fullest

"The bed isn't too uncomfortable for you, I hope?" He asks, eyes showing concern as hands help you lay back on the fur lined mattress.

"Zev, relax, it's fine." You grin, helping pull down his button up shirt, revealing lean muscles that shift with the tieflings every move. A small sigh leaves Zevlor, helping you kick off your pants, sitting back on his heels his eyes roam your scantily clad body.

Your hand meets the back of his neck, pulling him down till your lips barely brush. "Now, can we get to the main event?" You breathe out, feeling his fingers play with the waistband of your underwear.

"I could never deny you."

I feel like Zevlor wouldn't pull out too many kinks if it's your first night sleeping together

He'd definitely lavish attention on you, there's no way you will leave the tent without being thoroughly kissed all over

Zevlor would also insist on going down on you, his head finding its home between your legs

Pro tip, tug on his horns

The way he moans will just vibrate through you, it's glorious

Once he feels you're both thoroughly prepared and already quite satisfied is when he'll actually have sex with you

The way he slides in is agonizingly slow, a low moan leaving you as every bump and ridge slips into you. Zevlors lips are on your shoulder, body draped over yours as he carefully thrusts right into the hilt, his hips meeting yours. Sharp teeth brush over your skin as the tiefling lets out his own sigh, pausing at the way you clench around him.

"Oh, hells. I won't last if you stay like this..." Zevlor murmurs against you, hands smoothing over your skin to relax you. Every time his body shifts, so does his cock inside you. Adjusting to the way he stretches you is a task in itself, the burn slowly fading with each passing moment.

"Please, fuck me Zevlor-" Your words are cut off with another loud moan as his hips move, the hellrider easily finding a pace for himself as he thrusts into you.

Let's be real, this tiefling is so pent up

Zevlor will happily fuck you all night once you get him going, with short breaks in between

Like any true gentleman he'll ask where you'd like him to cum though his preference would definitely be inside

Once he's fucked your brains out Zevlor will pull you to lay on top of him, this man is clingy after sex

You'll feel a tail wrapped around your thigh and the deep rumbling purr from his chest, don't worry about getting cold either seeing as tieflings run hot

Everything you had tonight may be gone tomorrow, but everything feels okay when you fall asleep in Zevlors arms

[adventuringblind]

Possessive

Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Dialouge: "You are ours and ours only."

Summary: Oscar gets possessive during a night out.

Warnings: downright Filthy smut, marking, dom/sub, double penatration,

Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration

Masterlist

Neither Lando nor Oscar would say they are possessive men. They love each other and their girlfriend, and they know she loves them. It's very difficult, however, to remain neutral while watching another man flirt with her.

He started a conversation while she was dancing with Lily and Carmen during their post race celebrations. She'd politely tried to get away from him but the man is annoyingly persistent.

"Should we help her?"

"Can we do it without punching him is the real question."

"But it would be so satisfying if we did."

"Osc, you scoop the spiders up and take them outside. There is no way you can punch that guy."

The Australian whips around to face Lando. A smug look plastered on his face. "Wanna bet?"

Lando, with no alcohol in his system since he Despises the stuff, agrees. The Brit would soon come to learn never to challenge Oscar again.

The woman in question still looks highly unlikely comfortable and getting more agitated by the second. Relief, however, hits her as Oscar appears behind the man pursuing her and taps him on the shoulder.

"Pretty sure she wants to be left alone." His arms cross over his chest but he still looks as unassuming as ever.

Most people would assume Oscar doesn't know the definition of the word violence. She knows better, though. Her and Oscar had been together before Lando. If it's in the name of defense, he won't hesitate to swing.

"I don't see a boyfriend anywhere. Maybe you should go where you are wanted." The stupid man who can't take a hint seethes.

Oscar takes a step closer, invading the others space. "Seeing as I am one of two boyfriends she has, I think you should step away."

There is silence on the other end. Then a brutal look of disgust. "Well if she's used goods then you can have her, pal."

The look she hasn't seen for years only appears on Oscar for a second. The one that has is inner demons raging. The unflappable, sweet, gentle Oscar is seeing Red.

Only a second before the Aussies fist collides with the other man's jaw, sending him reeling backwards. He's always had a nasty right hook.

She says nothing as Oscar promptly takes her hand and guide her to the entrance. Lando trailing them from where he was watching. The Brit looks a mixture of terror and turned on.

The car ride is silent apart from the loud expressions passed between her and Lando and Oscar's fingers wandering occasionally. The last time he was like this neither of them could walk the next day.

The thing about Oscar, the incredibly calm and unfazed Australian, is that he takes all those emotions and puts them elsewhere. Into sex, specifically. Lando learned this the hard way. His teasing went one toe over the line. He ran out Oscar's patience in a series of events over the course of a week to test the limits.

So Oscar likes control more then he shows. It gives him an outlet, per say. He times and calculates and gets some kind of high off it. Plus it resets him to where he can take whatever shit people throw his way without losing his mind.

Oscar doesn't let go even after they are saftley back in their flat. Instead her body is slammed into wall of the entry way.

"Why don't you tell her what you said Lando. What got you into this mess." The voice he pulls out is the condescending one. The one that makes her knees weak.

"I said you wouldn't punch the guy."

"And if I proved you wrong?"

Lando swallows hard enough for her to hear it. Probably see it also, but her eyes are stuck staring at brown ones that are eating her alive.

"That I would do whatever you wanted tonight. No questions asked."

Lando screwing himself is not shocking. Now, Lando actually doing what he's told? That is even more shocking then when he got drunk. Only once before he decided he hated it for sure.

"Then I want you stripped and on the floor in the bedroom." Silently, the Birt pads away to do as told. Oscar loosens his hold on her body and give her some space. "Seriously though, are you okay? We won't do this if you were any kind if put off by that."

"And miss this opportunity? Absolutely not. If anything to sight of you actually punching somebody has me feral."

"Good. Then let's go find Lando."

Lando, to his credit, is following through. He just looks wicked sad about it.

"Lando? You alright love?"

"Doing what you're told is much less fun."

Oscar rolls his eyes at the pouting boy on the floor.

She was going to ask for instructions. But as she opens her mouth she finds there is no need. Oscar is dragging her to bed. Her clothes are litterally (and unfortunately) ripped from her body. The room is cold without layers, but it won't be for long.

Oscar's lips are everywhere. He kisses, sucks, licks, and bites every inch of skin on her body. Every peice of her knows the feeling of the Aussies warm lips. Every kiss leaves her tingly and every bite leaves her wanting.

"Lando, come here. I think people need to be reminded that she is ours. Would you like that baby? Do you want people to know you are ours and only ours?"

Her brain is too far gone to respond coherently. Lando has already got to work, claiming her where Oscar hasn't already. The Australians voice is gentle, but it's demanding. There is a need burried within it that says he needs people to know she's taken.

"I swear you're just too pretty. Everybody wants you. I'm tired of them not knowing you're already spoken for." Oscar is the next to shed his clothes. Lando's hands have gone from stagnant to touching her like she is the air he breathes. Both males are staking their claim on her tonight. A shared feeling of want for people to know she chose them passes between the two.

Mumbled pleads escape her. Some kind of contact where she's sensitive needs to happen or she might combust.

"Think you can take both of us in the same hole love?" Back to gentle. His need to care for her outweighed the need and desire to have her like this. It makes her agree so fast she gets dizzy from nodding her head so much.

Lando gets to be underneath her. His lips are still attached to her skin. It muffled the moans and tiny whines he's letting out as she sinks down onto him.

"Yiu know, Lando. That guy said our girl is used goods. What do you think? Do you agree with him?"

Lando detaches, his mouth agape. "I can barely get into her mate. I don't know how you're going to. Feels good to me."

"But aren't I used?" She whimpers.

Lando's hand reaches around her front to play with her clit. His large nimble fingers send shockwaves through her body.

"You are not 'used goods' baby." Lando says into her skin. His warm breath sticks to her shoulder. "We love you. We're keeping you. Fuck anyone who says shot like that."

To say she's gushing at this point is an understatement, despite that fact Oscar decideds lube is a smart idea. Now she's even more wet and sticky that she was with just her own self made lubricant.

Oscar takes it incredibly slow. To slow for her liking. But the second he's sliding into her, the friction with Lando, the stretch and positioning of everything. Yeah - it hurts.

Her teeth sink into Oscar's shoulder. Lando's hand is caressing her cheek and wiping away the stray tears that slip down the sides of her face.

It is ridiculous, really, the situation she's in right now. But she can't think as Oscar is cooing praises in her ear and Lando is meticulously puting his hands on her.

They spiral quickly after that. The tension that was in Oscar's shoulders releases as he is finally able to take what he needs. Lando has decended into a mess of moans and thrusting hips.

She is completely at their mercy. A mess of movment. The symphonic melodies of their voices fill the space of the bedroom. Hot breaths stick to her skin over the already present layer of sweat.

The ache in her bones and coil in her stomach rapidly approach a breaking point. She can't even warn them as everything in her snaps and leave her body a flailing mess. The two boys stutter and sink further into the mattress.

Then a silence. An amazing thread connecting all three bodies together.

They stay like that for the next ten minutes. Unmoving. Listening to the sounds of breathing and heartbeats.

"That was eventful."

"No kidding."

"Sorry if I was to rough."

All of them laugh. "Maybe you should apoligize to the guy at the club."

Oscar pulls out slowly, and then Lando lifts her gently off him. Then they actually collapse. Arms outstretched to hold each other close. "We need to clean up."

"We also need to look at your knuckles, Osc."

"I still can't believe you punched him."

Oscar rolls his eyes. "Well it ended well didn't it? I don't hear you complaining."

"Remind me to never challenge you again."

[angelcent]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 ・❥・ S. GOJO

summary. you share a bottle of wine with your professor at a weekend conference by the sea, unaware of his intentions and ardor for you.

tags. age gap (early 20s & 40s), professor!gojo, power imbalance, morally grey gojo, idolization, undertones of manipulation. 789 wc.

it was almost too easy for satoru to get you like this—soft and flushed with blood red wine in your veins; the thin strap of your sundress cascading gently over the curve of your shoulder, exposing more of your lovely skin to his greedy gaze. he almost envies the moonlight that's kissing every inch of your soft skin.

if everyone back at the conference room could see you now...

alone with your professor (and mentor) in his hotel suite balcony, sharing a loveseat and bottle of wine while watching the waves roll in and out. there's no trace of the diligent student everyone, including satoru, is normally met with. vulnerable—that's what you are, and satoru has never seen anything lovelier than his student like this.

and why wouldn’t it be easy to have gotten you to this point? you have so much blind faith in your esteemed professor gojo. in your wide, star struck eyes, the older man could do no wrong. that dark flame inside him that's begging to corrupt you grows at the thought of it because an ulterior motive to this would never cross your mind.

“another?” you murmur, voice thick and sweet like honey.

it's the first either of you have spoken in about fifteen minutes and satoru can't remember the last time he's been so comfortable in another's silence. probably since he met his best friend over twenty years ago. he needs you so fucking bad.

satoru smiles and declines, eyeing the loose grasp you have on your wine glass, wondering how your delicate wrist would feel beneath his teeth. “none for me. but I think it’s time I cut you off, kid.”

you sit up at this and don’t seem to notice some wine spilling with the sudden motion, or that the hem of your dress is exposing your thighs now. how would those feel beneath his teeth? "but why? i'm not drunk at all, satoru!” your lip juts out in a cute pout, unaware of how drunk you actually sound.

satoru you said, not sir. you’ve grown more comfortable with your professor throughout the conference weekend. eased into it without the ever present reminders that the university plagues upon you. he’s been a patient man, knowing you'd come around and open up to him in time. all you need is a little push to leave that kids arms.

"are you okay?" he asks with a raised brow. "you've been a wilted little flower since dinner."

under the influence you're even more of an open book, so he catches the way your eyes nervously shift towards the ocean.

"um, it's nothing," you shrug, a failed attempt at nonchalance. it's such an awkward little movement, never failing to remind satoru of a clumsy fawn. as much as he wants to help you grow and fulfill your potential, he also wants to keep you like this. endearingly naive. "i'm sorry if i'm ruining the mood, but i don't want to bore you with my problems."

"and why would that bore me?" he scoffs, trying not to let his irritation show. now he has confirmation that your boyfriend is the reason you often apologize for your own feelings. "what kind of man do you take me for?"

"an old one."

he clicks his tongue and snatches your wine glass from you, taking the final swig. "forty-one isn't old, you little brat."

you giggle. "sorry. but okay, this is about...um..."

satoru resists the urge to roll his eyes. of fucking course. “I see. alright, since I’m such an understanding man and the best professor and boss, we’ll make a deal.”

your full lips, now bitten red under his scrutiny, almost capture all of satoru’s attention. those sweet doe eyes of yours curiously peer up at him. "what's the deal?"

“we’ll have another,” you cheer at this. satoru chuckles again, the lines on his face accentuating with it. “while you tell me what's wrong, kiddo. that boy is ruining an important weekend for you and I think that’s his intention.”

and so you settle even closer, turning to face him as you confess your relationship troubles through a bottle of rosé. satoru notices the cracks and red flags immediately, knowing full well that there's no saving this. not that he'd want to, anyway. but satoru nods and hums along sympathetically, playing the part of a concerned mentor who truly intends to help you through your issues.

he can easily make his move right now and steal you away from that boy who's never deserved you, but that's not all satoru wants. he wants you to make the first move—to break every rule and boundary as professor and student. letting you confide in him is all part of it.

[peterparkersnose]

hey there, first i would like to thank you for taking my request cause i love your writing so much and it is a special request that I could only read from you, it's a joel miller x fem reader, fluff age gap (ofc not illegal), i find so much comfort in your joel's fics, so, thanks again and wishing you the best. <33

Stargazing

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: age gap, ellie plays matchmaker (common troupe), alcohol consumption, drunk confessions, mutual pining, anxiety and overthinking, this is a heavy dialouge fic, joel being awkward, just general awkwardness but fluff at the end I promise :)

a/n huge shoutout to the person who asked this! i was silly while editing this and accidentally deleted their ask, and they were kind enough to resubmit it for me. also, just a side note almost in every one of my joel fics there is an age gap, I just don't normally specify it but with this one they really deep dive in to it. I'm sorry but I am a younger person, I don't think I could write from the viewpoint of someone close to my parents age.

summary Ellie tries to set Y/N and Joel up on a date

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read time: 13 mins 34 seconds

It was past closing time in the bar. Maria, Tommy, and Joel sat around the dimly lit bar at the last table. Tommy had assured the bartender that he would close up; Tommy was more than capable to.

“Truth or dare,” the drunk man slurred. All three of them were collectively wasted. Joel sighed, downing another shot. He felt seconds later that he shouldn’t have. “Truth.” Joel spit out. This seemed like the hundredth round of this childish game Maria insisted on playing.

“Who in all of the population here would you want to bang in bed on your last night alive?”

Joel knew the answer immediately. A secret he had been keeping to himself for the few years he has known you. And the secret he had been denying and denying for so long. He knew Tommy was fishing for something. But that last shot began to ring through his system as he spoke. He let out a disappointed sign.

“Y/N.”

Maria snorted, almost falling out of her chair. Tommy looked at Joel with his brows furrowed. “What?” Joel asked in defense. “Joel, ain’t she like 20?”

“22.” he said in defense. There wasn’t much to defend, he was a great much older than you. And Joel was more ashamed than ever. He had known you since you were 19, ever since you helped escort Ellie across the country. It felt gross, it felt wrong. But whenever he thought of you, something just couldn’t resist. Your mannerisms, the way your voice sounded, how you responded to maturely to everything. You were an old soul, one that Joel got along with well. Crossing the platonic line never crossed his mind until he settled down in Jackson.

Joel’s eyes darted to the floor. “Hey, you said anyone!” he argued. Maria could not contain her laughter, almost falling on the floor. “Whatever. You guys suck.” he said, pushing his glass of whiskey that was almost finished off towards Tommy. Joel got up and began to leave. “I shouldn’t have said nothin’.”

“Hey!” Tommy yelled after him, over Maria’s laughing. “Quit it,” he muttered at her, making her laugh even more. “Joel-”

It was too late. He drunkenly made his way down the street and to his house. The light in your bedroom was still on he noticed. Joel wasn’t being a stalker and being weird, but you were his neighbor. What were you doing up so late? Reading something he figured. Or talking with Ellie, the girl really seemed to never shut up. As he was about to turn away, you came to the window. Confused of why Joel was out so late, you opened it. The cool spring breeze entered your room.

Joel seemed to panic, and pretended to have not noticed you at all.

“Miller!” he heard you yell. He stopped in his tracts and turned around. “L/N!” he called back. The repetition of your gesture towards him made you smile.

“What you doing up so late? Don’t you have patrol with me tomorrow morning?”

Joel let out a sigh. His hands rested on his hips. “God, is that tomorrow?” he lied. He totally knew. He was looking forward to it all week. “Yup. 7 sharp. Better get to bed, old man.”

The old man comment definitely hurt his ego. He couldn’t pick up on it, but that was your way of flirting. Teasing almost. But to Joel it just proved to himself that you just wanted to be friends—when you totally wanted the opposite.

“And what are you doing up so late?”

You held up the landline phone in to view. “Ellie,” you sighed. “Get some sleep!” he called, and began to head back to his house. The vision of you in your nightgown was getting too much for him, making him realize he wanted things he never thought he could ever want again. “Goodnight Joel,” you called. He waved, and entered his house.

You flopped down on your bed after you closed your curtains. Holding your pillow over your chest, you squeezed it hard. Your stomach fluttered as you childishly re played the memory of what had just happened. Finally, your bedroom light went out.

-

“Y/N,” Ellie sang, circling into your kitchen. It was your fault for leaving the back door open on such a nice day. It unfortunately tracked in things such as unwanted Ellie’s. It was midday, your patrol with Joel had ended about an hour earlier.

“Yes?” you sang back, sitting on your couch and looking up from your book. “I have news.”

She came and sat down next to you. “And what is this news? Is it important enough to distract me from my book?” you asked. Ellie sensed your pissed off tone.“Bookmark the page. You’ll never guess what I heard.”

“Ellie, if this is gossip—” you sighed, setting the book down next to you. “It’s not gossip when it involves you,”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, praying Maria didn’t share one of your embarrassing stories you confided in her. Everyone knew Maria had a big mouth. You slowly crept forward “What is it?”

“Joel has a crush on you.”

A quick laugh escaped from your lips. Ellie looked at you confused. “I-I’m telling the truth.” Your laughter continued. “I call fucking bullshit. Where did you hear that?” “Dude, Maria straight up told like everybody in the dining hall today.”

Your face scrunched. "What?"

“Your definitely fucking with me Ellie. Not funny.” you laughed.

“No!” Ellie exclaimed. “She got wasted with Joel and Tommy last night and he confessed that he would ‘bang you out of everyone in this town’ according to Maria.”

So that’s what he was doing out so late last night.

The thought of the older man that escorted you and Ellie across country a few years ago having a crush on you was absurd. Wasn’t it?

“Well, I thought you should know because remember what you said when we passed through that one small town and…”

She was waiting for you to confirm the pushed down memory that lived in your brain rent free.

It was a small midwestern town in the middle of nowhere. You and Ellie sat outside a coffee shop Joel was currently ransacking for supplies. It was a nice day like today, you and Ellie were sitting on the steps keeping watch as Joel went through the kitchen.

“You know, if the world wasn’t shit I would like my own store. Maybe a coffee shop, it sounds nice. Calm, definitely.” Ellie confided in you. “What would you be doing?”

Your foot tapped on the concrete as you thought to yourself. What would you be doing?

“I would be in college by now. For what, I’m not sure. I would have eventually liked to be married but… that’s never gonna happened.”

“Never say never. You always have Joel.”

You scoffed and giggled. But you had to admit, you had gotten to know the older man well. He was bitter, but you saw through the cracks sometimes. He was quite handsome anyways. Something about his rugged appearance and peppery hair just sat right with you. He had a few soft moments with you along the journey, patching you up after a fight or comforting you after a nightmare that Ellie didn't know about. But that was ridiculous. Ellie was talking nonsense.

You laughed out loud to Ellie’s suggestion, just like you had previously. “Don’t deny it. I see the way you look at him Y/N.”

“Your full of shit,” you joked, giving Ellie a slight push on her shoulder.

“Joel would make a nice husband though. Strong, resourceful, handsome. If I had to pick… sure. I’d be Mrs. Miller any day.”

When you said the words you wanted to suck them back in. Too soon, too much, too quickly. Ellie stared at you blankly. Joel exited the building at the perfect time with a few cans of fruit and spoons. Perfect timing. You remembered the awkward silence as you ate on the pineapple bits, but the phrase rung in your head for days.

“Mrs. Miller”

Being brought back into reality, the memory of expressing interest in Joel re lit something in you. You felt your stomach churn.

“Ah… see?” Ellie exclaimed. Your face turned red as you wanted to bury it in your book. “Mrs. Miller!” she yelled, leaving the living room towards the kitchen and out the back door.

“Ellie!” you yelled firmly, following her with your fists clenched. “Where are you going?”

“To find Joel.”

“Why?” you asked panicked, finally catching up to her on the street panting. You were more nervous than ever to hear her response. “To set you and Joel up on a date, duh!”

"Ellie!" you scolded her, looking around to make sure no one heard her. "What?" she whined, breaking away from your eye on her and making a straight line for Joel's house. To your luck, he was in his garden tending to his flowers. He hadn't seen either of you yet.

You let out a quiet shout, a simple “Ah!” as Ellie pranced down the street. You couldn't watch it, you couldn't look. You ran back in to your house and shut the back door behind you. Sliding down the back of the door and sitting on your kitchen floor, you prayed he responded positively. Or that Ellie was just trying to scare you in a ‘I’m telling the teacher but actually just asking to go to the bathroom’ way. And if Ellie actually went through with her plan, you hoped he didn't take this the wrong way. Even though you really didn't think he would. Would he?

-

It was the next day. You had refused to leave your house in sheer embarrassment. Running in to Joel right now was just a no. You had just gotten out of the shower when you heard the pattering of feet in your downstairs. Praying it was Ellie, you grabbed your knife and held your towel against your chest. "Ellie?"

"Oh, there you are!" she exclaimed. You sighed. "You know, you cant just break in to my house whenever you want." you said, sticking your knife in to your banister.

"It's important!" Ellie exclaimed. "Is it important enough to wait until I can get dressed?"

"He said yes."

You were confused. "Who said yes?"

"Joel!"

Your mouth slightly dropped. "And when did I agree to this?" you asked, venturing in to your bedroom to get dressed. In all honestly, you could have stood and talked to Ellie for a few more minutes comfortably in your towel, but you wanted to hide the wide grin that couldn't seem to leave your face even if you tried.

"When you told me you wouldn't mind being Mrs. Miller," Ellie teased, acting like she was stating the obvious. You poked your head out of your door and looked down your stairs and gave Ellie a sour expression. "I only want you to be happy, that's all!"

"I'm perfectly fine as it is. I didn't need you meddling in my life."

"Well, nobody else was going to do it. We all see how your cooped up here, reading all day. We just want to make sure your okay."

You came out of your bedroom dressed, wrangling out the ends of your wet hair with a towel. You met Ellie at the bottom of the stairs. "And who is we?" you questioned. Ellie sucked her teeth. "You caught us," she chuckled, staring at her converse. "Tommy and Maria and...maybe Dina?"

You sighed audibly, closing your eyes for a moment. "All three of you! Wow." you said somewhat sarcastically.

"Ellie!" you heard a yell from outside. It was her new friend, Dina, who she was almost inseparable with.

"Gotta go." she said, opening your front door and skipping down your steps.

"Ellie- wait!"

She turned around and looked at you, you saw Dina anxiously waiting for her. "When is he coming?"

Ellie shrugged. "Dunno. He said he'd be around."

Your face scrunched in confusion. Be around...?

Before you could ask any follow up questions, the two girls were gone.

———

“This is so damn stupid,” Joel whispered to himself. His doubt was creeping in. The bouquet was hidden behind his back. Fresh picked from his garden, tied off with a bit of twine. His other hand was about to knock on your door. It wasn’t too late… 7 o’clock? You wouldn’t be in bed yet, right? Knock knock.

There was some shuffling from inside the house, and you opened the door. Almost yanked the door open, actually. Joel took a step back due to the commotion. “Joel?” you nervously asked, pretending you weren’t anxiously waiting for the random arrival of your not-so blind date all day. “W-what are you doing here?” you asked, playing dumb.

“If it’s not a good time I can-”

“Oh—no! It’s perfect, d-do you want to come in?” you asked the older man, looking up at him. Joel never seemed as intimidating as he did now. And you’ve seen him torture people before.

You let Joel in to your house as the two of you just stared at each other awkwardly. What did you really have to talk about? 

“What are those?” you asked anxiously, referencing down to the flowers in his hands.

“Oh!” he exclaims, kicking himself mentally for not remembering to give them to you. “There for you. Fresh from my garden.” 

You recognized the flower as tulips, your favorite. Joel was touched by the sparkle that came to your face once he presented them to you. Accepting them, your hands grazed his a bit. The both of you let go, almost dropping the flowers on the floor. An awkward laugh was exchanged. “Thank you, there beautiful.” you sighed in awe, moving in to the kitchen to get a glass to put them in. “How did you know tulips were my favorite?”

“Wild guess?” Joel responded. Not from Ellie prepping Joel for this date, not at all. 

“So what did you have in mind for tonight?” you asked, cutting off the stems of the tulips so they would fit in the glass jar you had filled with water. 

“Uh,” Joel mumbled. “I- you know that trail around the fence?”

“Up the mountain?” you asked him, setting the flowers down in the middle of your table. “Yeah. Your up to it?”

“That's a great idea, Joel.”

He let out his breath he was holding, thrilled that you agreed to his idea. Ellie said it was stupid, that walking the trails at night could be creepy. Ellie suggested a nice dinner, but Joel thought that was just so boring. Every date he had ever been on had basically been a nice dinner. He had this planned ever since Ellie even brought up the idea of a possible interest in pursuing Y/N.

Stargazing. 

The cool air was refreshing. You kept in rhythm with Joel. He was slower than you, and he was worrying that it would be a turn off for you. But you didn’t mind. You enjoyed taking in the silent night and the hums of nature slowly.

The moon was full and it was a clear night. The trail was overgrown, but still manageable. Joel had trekked up here earlier that day to get ready. As the clearing began to come in to view, Joel felt his anxiety rising. What if you didn’t like it? What if he put too much effort in to it and you thought it was weird? Joel was a quiet kept man, but his thoughts were screaming almost constantly. 

“Joel!” you gasped, stopping at the edge of the clearance. 

A blanket was laid on the ground with a few decorative pillows. A canteen with two cups sat on the grass along with a book and a lantern. Joel reached down and clicked the lantern open, and it began to emit a soft warm light. It wasn’t like the harsh, recreational ones that would blind you. 

“Did you do this? It’s… beautiful.”

Joel’s eyes cast up at you. “It’s nothing much…”

You sat down next to Joel on the blanket he had set out. “Nothing much?” you chuckled, taking in the beautiful view that shown over an abandoned city where Jackson got a lot of their supplies from. 

“I think this is the nicest thing a guy has ever done for me.”

“Then you obviously haven't met many nice guys,” Joel said, his voice shaking slightly. He realized how detrimental and self-deprecating that sounded and tried to re-phrase it. “You haven't been on many dates… right?”

And that now sounded predatory. “I-I mean-”

“Actually, this is my first date. Ever.”

Your confidence and comfortability answering him calmed Joel’s nerves. “I don’t mean to pry,” you began. “But did you ever have someone? Like before all this. And if you don’t want to reply that’s okay, I was just wondering but-”

Joel chuckled a bit at your eagerness. “Nah, no worries.” he re assured you, slowly moving his arm around you. Accepting his touch, you moved in to his embrace as the two of you stared up at the stars. “I had a wife- she was my ex-wife. My daughter’s mother. We had her real young, and she just wasn’t ready for the commitment of a family.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, watching a blinking star above. “It’s alright. Gave me the best life I could have ever asked for, for thirteen years.”

“And your daughter?”

Joel knew this was bound to come up sooner or later, just not this soon. He didn’t even realize he mentioned Sarah until you asked your follow up question. “She didn’t make it past outbreak day like most people didn’t.” he said bluntly. “But anyways,” he said quickly, saving the awkward response from you. “What about you? Any family?”

“Just Ellie. No relation as you know, but she’s my sister.” Joel nodded. There wasn’t much in this world, and family became what you made it. “What’s that?” you asked, perking your head up from Joel’s chest and pointing over to the grass. “What?” he asked. “The coffee or the book?”

You gasped. “You got coffee?”

He smiled and smirked. “I’ve always wanted to try coffee!” you exclaimed.

Joel looked at you with an odd look. “Your tellin’ me you've never had coffee?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “I used to have this every morning before the outbreak. Withdrawals the first few weeks were definitely difficult.” he explained as he poured you a glass. It was dark and steaming hot. “Coffee is a delicacy, dude. No one in the QZ had this where I was from. It would occasionally get passed out to the soldiers but man, that’s cool.” you said. Joel forgot—you were a post outbreak baby. You wouldn’t have known of the luxury of Starbucks or an espresso machine. “You may not like it, but it’s very unlikely.” he explained. Joel’s love for coffee was strong.

You took the first sip. It burned your tongue and tasted like dirt water. The smell was unmatchable, but the taste was just horrible. You froze, not wanting to disappoint Joel. 

Joel couldn't help it, he couldn't keep in his laughter. “Not a fan?” he asked, looking at you behind his cup as he took a sip. “It’s very…interesting?” you said, forcing yourself to take another sip. 

“Don’t torture yourself now,” Joel said, extending his hand for the cup. You gladly gave it back to him. “It was a nice thought,” you said dearly, giving him credit for his sweet gesture. “Ellie said the same thing when I made her try some. Must be a…”

He didn’t want to say it. His words came out faster than he could think. “What, a post outbreak baby thing?” you finished his sentence.

That was exactly what Joel was going for. “I mean, I didn’t mean it that way but…”

“It’s okay. Stop worrying Joel, you seem so nervous.” you flirted. “Aren't you?” Joel asked, feeling like that emotional wall was just broken down by your comment.

“Me? Oh, I’ve been a nervous wreck all day. Ellie didn’t give me a time, place, or any context other than that you were coming.” 

“Your kiddin’ me. That damn kid,” he sighed, reaching for the book on his side. “Speakin’ of Ellie.” he said, handing you the book.

“Constellations and Stars.” you said in awe.

“For kids,” you added, reading the small line under the title. “This some kind of cruel joke?” you asked Joel, opening the first page. “I promise it not,” he chuckled. “Found it in Ellie’s old storage bin she keeps in my basement. Thought it was useless, well, until now.”

“Do you see any?” you asked Joel. The two of you were laying flat on the blanket. Your head rested on his chest as his arm draped down protectively over you. Your legs were touching, feet and calves were intertwining. “The Big Dipper is always easy to find… if you look.”

You opened the book and flipped around a few pages until you found the page for the Big Dipper. “Like a kite,” you said. “Yeah, kind of like a kite.” 

After a few minutes of intense searching in the sky and enjoying your other’s companies, you found it. “Joel, I think I found it.”

“You did. I found it like five minutes ago.” he said shyly. You sighed in defeat. “I guess your just better than me.” you sighed sarcastically. “I guess I am.” Joel hummed.

“You know, back when the world wasn’t like this people would buy each other stars?” Joel asked. “That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” you laughed. “With real money? Like the physical stuff?”

“Yup.” Joel confirmed. 

“I would buy you a star if I could.” you said suddenly. Joel suddenly felt a warmth grow inside of him, one he hadn't felt for many years. He had to spit out his thought, he just had to. Didn’t want to waste an opportunity. 

“I’d buy the whole sky of stars for you.” he said softly. You looked up at him, a hand resting on his chest. “Would you really?”

“In a heartbeat.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter. You told Joel old stories about your QZ, he told you old stories about his life. Sharing what seemed like useless future plans now sounded promising with Joel. The two of you never wanted the night to end.

tag list(sorry if this appears twice tumblr is glitching currently) @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy

You noticed the small wrinkles around Joel’s eyes when he smiled. When he smiled at least, you don't think you have ever seen this man so filled with so much joy before. You took in the detail of his smiling face intricately, not wanting to forget the feeling of the moment you were in. This man just said he would buy the whole sky of stars for you. You would do quite literally anything for him, but not like you wouldn’t have done it before. The feelings were very obviously now mutual. 

-

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

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 3

my masterlist!

part one and part two!

summary: harry goes over to y/ns hotel for a good old room service dinner, also getting a little tipsy on wine, while starting to blur some lines. and it’s not long before things are no longer just between the two of them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol, getting a lil wine drunk, paparazzi, being confused on if you’re falling in love or just really good friends.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally have this written for you all! i’ve had some pretty bad writers block, hence the delay in getting it to you, but thank you so much again for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

———

There’s a certain type of attatchment that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s when things start to flourish. Maybe with a hobby, a passion, or a new found person. One your brain decides to put all its focus and interest on, to the point it’s all consuming.

This one gets stuck to you like glue. Hard to shake in the sense of no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it’s all you can think about.

Losing yourself in daydreams of something or someone without even realising, until you’re reaching for anything that will bring you closer to filling that need.

That’s exactly what’s leading you to be reaching for your phone at any given point of the day.

You imagine many perceive it to be a permanent growth on your person. But you can hardly help it. Texting is a simple way to reach someone. Feel connected.

So, safe to say you’ve messaged Harry more than your own family over the course of this trip.

You’ve become attached. To Harry Styles. Again…?

Of course, being a huge fan it’s easy to say you should probably already be accustomed to this, given your level of obsession.

But this is a whole other ball game. One that is becoming like an internal battle. Your already unhealthy and predisposed infatuation paired with now a real physical connection is enough to render you useless.

You reach for your phone. Text him, your brain begs. You consider. No, stop being clingy you loser, your brain rolls her metaphorical eyes. You place the phone down. Stare at a wall. Think about him. Rinse, repeat.

Not normal, you don’t think.

However, you search for some kind of justification. That you’re just good friends, and all that shit. It’s normal to miss someone you’re friends with.

If he considers you as that.

Which you would hope since you’ve been texting him enough it would be concerning if he saw you as just some mutual of his.

You’re also sitting in a cafe, unfortunately without him right now. Eating a croissant wishing that he were here. Allowing your gaze to linger on the chair across from yourself, imagining his solid frame filling up the empty space. What he would do if you stood up and ran a hand through his hair, maybe lent down a little so you could just—

The ring of the bell atop their entrance chimes and drags you out if your dangerous and spiralling thoughts. And for some reason get excited like you’ve somehow manifested this man to walk through the cafe door by thinking of him.

Feeling silly at the nag of disappointment in your stomach as you see an ordinary bloke saunter over to the till.

Maybe one you would check out, or emit some kind of interest in before you properly met Harry. You would feel disloyal now. Like the parasocial relationship has entered an entirely new level of psychotic.

If it’s still parasocial, that is. Or if now you’re just simply a girl with very cloudy and mixed feelings about a very beautiful man.

You audibly sigh out. Eating the final bite of your admittedly delicious croissant and picking up your phone.

You type out a message, sending it before you can even think it.

I’m in a cafe right now without you and you’ve honestly ruined them for me. I miss you and your free cups of tea.

Without me? Rude.

You laugh at his quip, watching as the little bubble pops back up indicating he’s typing.

I’m out right now, but if you’re not busy later we can do something? Go out or I can come over to yours.

You pluck mindlessly at your bottom lip with your teeth, how could you say no to that?

You stress over it either way.

well, you’re very welcome to come over to my hotel room. we can order room service if you want?

To this he texts back an agreement, seemingly keen. And you realise immediately you have to tidy your room before he comes over.

You swing him the location of where you’re staying, including your room and floor number.

Thank you love, ill be there in like 3 hours say? If that works for you.

At that, you stand, because who are you if not over-prepared. And it was time to go make sure your room didn’t like a war had been waged in it when he came over for the first time.

Cant be having a bad impression, you figured.

———

You did in fact rush back to your hotel complex. Not even stopping a crepe stall you passed by, which had to be a first for you. You clean the place until it appears well-kept at the least.

And once you’re finished, you easily fall back into overthinking the whole thing. So excited, yet getting those anxious jitters like a caffeine addict 12 hours no coffee.

Which is why you decide to busy yourself with an afternoon shower. And at the time you’d still had over an hour to go.

You take of course longer than you intended, and shortly after you come out there’s a knock at your door, easily making you jump as you tug a shirt over your head. Regretting the last minute decision for a shower since now you have wet hair and probably look like a right mess.

But it’s not like you can leave him out there while you go blow dry your hair, so you rush over to the door, and tug it open.

His brows shoot up, and a smile slowly blooms on his face as he takes in your appearance.

Your hair is still near dripping, and you stand in bike shorts and a loose tshirt. The most casual he’s ever seen you. Which he loved the look on you more than he admits to himself.

“Hi darling,” he smirks, a warm feeling settling over him as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, Harry.” You stand for a few moments longer, finally shuflling out of his way to let him through the door. He is adorning a white shirt and has the cutest little bandana around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, gesturing him inside, “I was drastically overestimating how long it would take me to shower… hence why im in this state.”

He pulls a hand from behind his back, a cup being presented to you.

“Don’t be silly, y’not in a state at all.”

“You’re joking—“ You gently take the cup from his ringed hands, “Harry!”

“M’sorry, m’sorry. I saw a coffee van on the way and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get one for you?”

“No, but I did have a little sip of yours.” He confesses with a quiet laugh. But he quickly busies himself with your room, padding around and peeking out the balcony window.

You take a sip, watching him examine your space. Grateful you cleaned it.

He asks you a few questions about random things in your room, and you settle yourself on the foot of your bed, cross-legged.

You didn’t really think about the lack of seating in your one man room. But this hardly bothers Harry, since he’s scoped up the room service menu from wherever he found it, and sat next to you.

“Alright… what d’we have.” He talks to himself, opening up the menu and scanning over the foods.

You discuss the options, settling on a pizza and pasta to share, because, well, you’re in Italy.

The night progresses easily as time always seems to do when you’re together, and you fake fight over the best kind of pasta sauce. But he lets you have to last slice of pizza so peace is made shortly after.

“Should we order a wine or something? T’wash the pasta down.” He suggests as the sun begins setting.

“Why not, I won’t say no to some wine.”

That gets ordered to your door, and you go from the foot of the bed to lazing at the head of it. Sipping on wine and recounting old stories, or discussing stupid topics.

“Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?” You swirl your glass around, eyes shifting to look at his side profile as he gazes at your roof.

His cute nose outlined by the warm light off the lamp, which you flicked on in the corner after it got dark.

He bursts out into a laugh, “what kind of question is that?”

“I feel like it indicates the sort of person someone is.” You shrug, smiling.

“What like it gives you an intel on my personality?”

“Something like that.” You nod, “and decides if we have to stop being friends, if you answer the wrong one.”

He grins, “Well, maybe tell me which one to pick so we don’t have to do that.”

“Awh, so you don’t want to stop being friends?” You coo, still staring at him, watching as his eyes flick from the roof over to you.

“Of course not, who else am I meant to go on cafe dates with.” He laughs.

You’re both teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and it’s evident in the way you’re both talking to one another. Borderline flirting, probably a more fitting way to describe it.

“True, because I’d be very hard to replace.” You snort with sarcasm, taking the another sip of wine.

“You would be! I love our little dates.” He smiles, the second time he’s dropped the word date in the last minute.

You’ve scooted closer to one another somehow. Shoulder to shoulder as you steal glances of his beautiful face. Maybe this was subconscious, or on purpose. But you’re drawn to him like a magnet.

“So do I…” You flush.

“I’m a little tipsy.” You clarify, breaking the searing eye contact and looking at the near-empty glass in your hand. A fourth refill would easily tip you over the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Wine gone to y’head too?”

“Mhm, and I have a track record of poor decision making when I have too much of it.” You recall the plenty of times you did the stupidest shit just because you were wine drunk. Hoping that does not happen tonight.

“Might have to see it one day.”

“One day…” you agree, but you realise that you’re not really in Italy for much longer. You have about a week and a half left now.

“I… Harry,” you turn your body to face him, and he sits up a little, noticing the almost serious tone to your voice.

“I’m leaving soon.” You blurt it out, because it’s the only topic of conversation you’ve both been steering clear of. The thing neither of you want to address because eventually this won’t be easy to do. Who knows how many miles could get out between you.

And it almost hurts you to admit yourself because… where exactly does that leave you both?

Does your contact end when you leave Italy? Do you become people who occasionally text on a bi-monthly basis?

He draws a breath, “So am I.”

You let out your own tortured sigh, turning to pop your glass on the beside table and then lean your head onto his shoulder.

Your heart jumps at the contact, and somewhere in your brain, sober Y/N lets out a gasp, because she would never have the balls to do that.

So the wine maybe was a great idea…?

He wraps an arm around your back, “I go back to London after this.”

“Second week of August as well?” You pray it’s not earlier than the start of the month, since tomorrow is literally the 1st.

“Yea, the 13th.” He nods and it’s the only tiny shred of relief you’re getting from all this. That there’s still time left.

“I fly out on the 12th.” You say quietly.

But there’s a small silence that consumes you both for the first time since you met. Because you’re kind of exasperated for options right now. What do you say to someone who is going to inevitably slip from your grip.

You shake your head at nothing in particular, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, since words really weren’t going to cut it.

Somewhere in his muddled brain he notes this is the second time you’ve ever initiated a hug. And he leans into it, the arm he had around your back tugging you infinitely closer.

Your cheek is pressed to his neck, and you swear you feel his lips ghosting over the top of your head.

Slowly, you pull back. And he watches you with sharp green eyes. You hold that gaze, until he’s the one that breaks it. Stifling a groan with his hand, covering his face.

You look at him quizzically.

“I like this more than I probably should.” He gestures now between the two of you.

You chuckle, a tiny flutter in your stomach announcing it’s presence.

“So we’re making the most of the time left in Italy, then?” You put forward, ready to nearly wipe your schedule clean for the man.

Which, who could blame you?

“What are y’doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, if you’re the one asking.” You laugh, and he smiles wide at your comment.

“Oh, is that so darling?”

You roll your eyes in attempt to be convincing, “of course, you always buy me tea so…”

“Well, that decides we’re going to another cafe I suppose.” His hand reaches for his phone strewn on the quilt somewhere, pulling up google maps to find some nearby cafes.

You perch your head back onto his shoulder to watch him scroll through the options. He stumbles on a beautiful looking one, less than a 10 minute walk away. He looks to see if you approve.

He peers down to where you rest on his frame, smiling unwillingly at the sight of you. Your own eyes trailing up to meet his.

And he swears they linger on his lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Mh, what d’ya think.” He gets out, voice suddenly several octaves lower. Almost gravelly.

You almost audibly gulp at the sound of him. Hyperaware of his existence right now, you could nearly zone out thinking about the strength of his arm muscle that’s right now pressed against you.

“Yea… yea that looks amazing. And tomorrow, what time?” Your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“How about 1, since you’re probably gonna wanna sleep in a bit.” He suggests, free hand pushing his curls from his eyes.

The way he knows you’re probably going to want to sleep in. God.

“I’m down.” (Bad)

A smile erupts over your face, and you almost forget that the clock is still ticking. That you only have so long left here.

Which ‘almost forgetting’ isn’t enough to stifle the urge to use it as some kind of yolo shit. Because that is unbelievably strong. Like why not just invite him to stay the night?

Maybe another glass of wine and you can gaslight yourself into cuddling him and just falling asleep. He wouldnt leave unless he had to, so it’s an almost flawless plan.

———

The plan infact, was flawless.

To say the least, he slept at yours. In your bed.

I mean you don’t really remember it, since you talked into the early hours of the morning and drank some more alcohol to really top it all off.

You woke up under the covers, still clutching onto Harrys side.

He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, seemingly unbothered by the fact your head had taken residency on his chest.

You take the initiative to glance at the time in the upper-right corner of his phone, a little shocked when it reads 11:47am.

You do groan at the morning light streaming in the windows immediately after seeing the time though.

“G’morning. D’ya have a headache?” He asks with what you can only assume is the end of his morning voice. Which although just a taste, is enough to send you spiralling.

It’s also around now you realise he’s stripped down into boxers— still clad in his white shirt. What the fuck!

You struggle to form a coherent response.

“Morning. A little.” Your voice comes out as a hum.

Somehow, considering you’re cuddling him right now and you literally just slept in the same bed all night, both of you outwardly are quite relaxed about it.

Nothing is awkward. It feels lovely.

“I want a croissant so bad.” You huff, sitting up, stomach growling like as if you hadn’t eaten in a whole 24 hours.

“So, you’re the kind of person that’s hungry immediately after they wake up?” He laughs, hand coming to push the locks of your bed hair out of your face.

Outside of the sheer domesticity of that (which makes you literally have heart palpitations), your hair is a proper train wreck.

The humidity in Italy has made it horrific.

“I guess I am right now?” You reply to his previous ask, combing your fingers through the locks.

“Jesus Christ.” You curse at its uncooperativeness.

“Y’know that episode of friends where Monica complains about how the humidity fucks her hair, she was so right.”

“I love friends.” He immediately gasps, nearly jolting upright in excitement.

You laugh at his enthusiastic reaction, noting that you have to somehow find time over the next week to watch an episode or two with him.

“And if it’s any consolation, I think your hair looks great.”

“Yea well, it’s not like you’d really be able to relate to the frizzy hair. Since yours look so perfect all the time.” You joke.

This evokes a genuine flush on his face, “Alright, Y/N, calm it down.”

He’s laughing but you swear he actually looks a little flustered. Without the wine as a confidence booster, he seemed like suddenly he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

Unbelievable to you since he probably gets that many a day from strangers on the street.

“I, am going to get up and get ready then, so we can go out and eat.” You state, excited to be seemingly spending the majority of the day with him.

He holds back the urge to beg you to stay in bed with him, and says something nonchalant as if he doesn’t mind you getting up. But when you pad off to the bathroom he stares at your now empty space. And immediately shivers at the lack of your body warmth, despite the already warm humid weather.

After a few trips in and out of the bathroom you come out looking beautiful. And he has to get himself up and ready to go in attempt to not overthink it.

You craved his closeness the whole time it took you to prepare for the day. Every few minutes you’d get this almost overpowering urge to just go out there and throw yourself back into his arms.

It’s borderline pathetic. But now you’ve had him in your bed, his strong arms coddled around you, it’s very hard to not to be just that. His physical presence is perfect and comforting. You’re attached to that as much as any other aspect of him.

He puts on his pants, which were folded neatly on his own bedside table, plucking out the car keys in his pocket, “Im gonna nick down to my rental car, because I have an extra button up in there, so I’ll wear that out.”

He comes back and changes into said white button up, stripping his worn shirt off and leaving it somewhere.

Just like that, you’re ready to go, and you both decide to walk the short way there. It was too nice a morning to not.

The whole walk you’re chatting away as usual. But it’s paired with this newfound physical aspect. The way you so obviously want to be close it hurts.

Yet somehow you both act like it’s nothing. That the brushes of hands and shoulder as you’re in step beside each other is a simple coincidence.

And that when you get breakfast, the two croissants and shared cookie is just a friendly thing. In your head you’re even playing off the touching all throughout breakfast.

Which sounds dirty— but just the little conversational touches. Like a hand reaching out to touch a forearm in laughter, acting as if it adds something important to the moment being shared.

Or that somehow when you leave the cafe, with two takeaway cups of tea, the hands that end up interlinked softly between the two of you is just…

Well… who even knows anymore?

Because you’re walking through italy beside Harry— who is talking about his favourite kind of playground equipment, regardless of if he’s a near thirty year old man— all while holding your hand.

And to take a moment, because it’s important, his hands are everything they’re talked up to be. Littered with chunky rings and calloused fingertips from the years of guitar playing. Yet contrasted by his soft palms, which cups yours with this delicateness it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You also pray that your own hand isn’t sweating profusely in his grasp, because you wouldn’t put a clammy hand past yourself. The already humid weather paired with your anxiety surrounding this whole situation is quite literally the match made in hell.

Nothing about this can be passed off as casual to your brain anymore. You’re literally about to implode.

But you strive to hide it. So you solider on.

“I’m a seesaw girl okay. Hear me out—“

“No, I can totally see that!” He interjects, and you chuckle at his quick agreement to your statement.

“Right? They are so much fun. And even though I nearly took a tooth out playing on one when I was 7, I can still recognise they are superior.”

To that he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours, “I mean I love that. I’m probably a swing person, I feel like no matter the age I will always be down for it.”

You can agree that a swing is a solid second favourite for you. And as you talk about that point with him, you don’t realise you’ve walked the whole ‘scenic’ route back to your hotel until you turn the corner and the entrance is around the corner ahead. And the way you went usually takes an extra 20 minutes.

It went so fast.

“Are you gonna head off or… come back up with me?” You ask gingerly, the hand not interlaced with his fiddling with the fabric of your clothing.

“Not sick of m’yet?”

“Never…” You shake your head, smiling as he gleams at your answer.

“M’flattered. The feelings mutual love,” he chuckles, “However I do have to go remind my family I’m alive. But it’ll only take about a day until they’re pleased for me to ditch them.”

Gently runs his thumb over your knuckles, whether it be subconsciously or not, “So tomorrow night ill come back over to yours for dinner if you y’want?”

You smile, a little sappy over the way he’s working a plan out like you’re both teenagers, “Yea, thats perfect, and we can try something else off the menu.”

“Maybe, if you want,” he begins carefully, “after that you can come over to where we’re staying. Meet my mum and sister. They’ll love you.”

Now you’re nearly bursting at the seems, “Oh, I would love that, H!”

“Okay, it’s a plan then.” He agrees, pulling his keys from his pocket.

You bid your farewells for the night, unlinking hands and being left with a tingling sensation in it, one that you wonder if he’s also getting.

You go to your hotel room and feel full with joy.

He is all too sweet for this world. And you’re a little obsessed.

———

Although Italy being in Italy feels like being in a bubble, and like you’re so far away from the real world, it is unfortunately a purely mental one.

And there’s one thing about a headspace like that, and it’s just how quickly it can be popped.

At midnight that night a notification pops up on your phone, one that when you open, you have to physically put your phone down.

harryflorals:

what do i even caption this post because is that who i think it is or am i officially delusional? “HARRY WITH A FAN FROM THE LAST SHOW, HOLDING HANDS IN ITALY!” correct me if I’m wrong YALL idek anymore.

And this time, there’s no grain saving your ass. Because this was taken on what, quality wise, looks like a digital camera.

Which has made it so painstakingly obvious that it’s you. And you don’t even remember it being taken?

It was when you were walking back from the cafe, holding hands probably talking about fucking seesaws.

And everyone has caught on fast, because in the comments it’s an all out frenzy.

So, cats officially out of the bag.

———

y’all can expect a part four considering i lowkey left this on a cliffhanger 😝 so its on its way my loves

update: next part, PART 4!

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[irisintheafterglow]

like we’re made of starlight (timeskip!iwa x you)

summary: on the night of your birthday, you accompany hajime to the olympic team's new year's celebration, meeting the players and receiving a small surprise.

wc: 1.78k

cw/tags: swearing, alcohol and drinking, established relationship, crack and fluff and atsumu being dumb, one (1) down bad iwaizumi hajime, implied fem!reader but they/them pronouns used

note: this is dedicated to the #1 iwa lover @shotorus <3 i hope you have a spectacular birthday and enjoy this little thing for you and your man :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated !

“You know, if I’d known they planned this whole shabang on your birthday, I would have asked them to reschedule.” He squints skeptically at the colorful strobe lights shining outside of the club, one of the most prestigious in the city and the venue for the Olympic team’s belated New Year celebration. You could only imagine how loud the inside of the club would be, especially since it already seemed overwhelming outside and you weren’t even in the building yet. “I promise I’ll make it up to you this weekend, something a little…quieter.” 

“It’s okay, really,” you reassure him, setting a comforting hand on his thigh as he continues to bounce his leg in the driver’s seat. You run your thumb over the expensive fabric of his dress pants and he visibly relaxes, releasing a deep exhale and giving you an apologetic smile. The line for the valet was long and your boyfriend had politely declined your suggestion for him to hop out while you get the car situated. “I’m here for you and to meet the guys.” 

“That’s also something I’m a little anxious about,” he admits.

“How so?”

“They can get a little wild at these kinds of celebrations.”

“Well, we can bail whenever we want, right?” He nods, still a little unsure. “So, if the vibe is off or people start getting a little too wild, we leave and eat soup on the couch with a movie on.” The last comment about lounging around finally makes him smile and you lean over to press a light kiss on the side of his face, taking note of the way his ears become a little pinker even in the darkness of his car. A few minutes later, Hajime helps you step out of the car, tug on your coat and leads you to the entrance of the club, bypassing the extensive line with a tilt of his head to the bouncer. 

“This place was 100% Bokuto’s idea,” he mutters when you both step inside. “It’s like we’re at a frat party again.” A club employee escorts you up the stairs to a private, second floor balcony that overlooks the dance floor. “All the lights and music and drunk people is very reminiscent of that one during–”

“During junior year, second semester. The one I dragged you out of your dorm for because my roommates flaked out and I didn’t know anyone else to go with,” you grin, looking down at him over your shoulder as you climb the stairs. He’s quick to close any remaining space between you two once you reach the landing, snaking a protective arm around your shoulders while the employee gestures for you to join the rest of Hajime’s coworkers. “Except this time, everyone’s of age to drink.”

“In theory,” he murmurs. “I still think Hinata’s younger than he says he is.” You stifle a snort into your fist and catch him smirking before you’re bombarded by several suit-clad athletes with varying levels of alcohol intoxication. “Watch out for Atsumu. He spit-talks when he’s drunk.”

“Our beloved trainer has arrived!” On cue, the more chaotic Miya twin appears in front of you with one arm slung around his Jackal teammate, a buzzed-looking Bokuto, and followed closely by Hinata and Sakusa. “What took you so long?”

“I couldn’t find my good cufflinks,” he shrugs, revealing the silver volleyballs hiding on the inside of his wrists, the ones you got him on his first anniversary of working as a trainer. “Thought they were appropriate for the occasion.” You smile, watching your boyfriend act as cool and casual as ever, even in the face of his very enthusiastic colleagues. “I, uh, have someone for you all to meet,” he says, glancing at you with a questioning glint in his eye. Are you ready? You nod, taking a deep breath as he introduces you as his partner. 

“Like, in business?” Atsumu asks with such a genuine expression that makes you giggle. Behind him, you can see Sakusa slap an exasperated palm against his forehead. “You have a secret side hustle?” You bite your lip to keep from laughing too hard and look up to find your boyfriend with a similar expression. 

“No, dude,” Bokuto says slowly. “He means like, romantically. Like, a life partner.” Atsumu’s eyes widened to the size of car tires. “A partner for life, you know?” 

“Holy shit, you’re married?” You catch Sakusa mouth oh my god under his breath before he walks away from his dumbfounded teammate. Hinata is quick to steer both of his friends to a table before they fall over and rejoins the conversation as Hajime introduces you to the more collected players of the group. 

You shake hands with the stoic skyscraper that is Ushijima as well as receive a warm hug from Komori. Both note how great it was to finally meet you in person after your boyfriend seemed to never stop talking about you, before the man in question hurriedly introduces you to another player. Suna and Sakusa are quietly polite but open up more once you ask them about how training is going for the next Olympic games. While you chat with them, Hajime pulls over Aran and Yaku, introducing you as his partner with poorly hidden pride. Once they’ve assimilated into your conversation, he disappears into the herds of players and staff again to no doubt drag out another coworker.

“Forgive him for coming and going so much,” Yaku says apologetically. “I think he’s been waiting to show you off for a long time, even if he won’t admit it.”

“He’s really excited for people to meet me, huh?”

“I’ve never seen him this hyper and I’ve been drunk at a karaoke bar with him,” a new voice says who introduces himself as Kuroo, a tall guy with spiky hair that you remember Hajime arguing with over the phone several times. “Our offices are right next to each other and I like to play pranks every so often,” he explains when you ask him about why your boyfriend yells at him so much.

“Technically, it’s his fault for being out of the office so often,” Suna reasons. “And I only say that because I’m one of the accomplices to the office pranks. We all are.”

“I bought the wrapping paper for the one on his car,” Aran adds. “Yaku pitched in for the Post It notes on April Fools day, but we don’t let Atsumu in on the pranks anymore ‘cause he talks too much.” Your mouth gapes in disbelief, unable to imagine the organized, well put-together machine that is your boyfriend getting pranked so easily. 

“It’s only because we love him as a trainer, though.” Yaku is backed up by nods of agreement from the rest of his team. “He really loves his job; I think the only thing he loves more than volleyball is–”

“You, obviously.” Hajime returns from fishing out people to introduce to you, easily finding his place by your side. “They tell you about how much they fuck up my office?” The perpetrators’ voices overlap each other in protest, arguing that he’s the one who keeps leaving his door unlocked. “Yeah, yeah. Just you wait until I get this one in on pranks against you guys.” He tilts his head towards you and is met with friendly taunts of competition, saying that you’re too nice to prank them or that they’d never fall for any of his pranks. His head dips to whisper in your ear while the team is preoccupied with debating what song to request from the DJ to create one big Olympic flashmob. “Mind if I steal you away, real quick?”

“Of course. But be fast; you need to be back in time for the big dance number,” you tease and he rolls his eyes with an amused smile, lacing his fingers in yours and pulling you down a back hallway of the club. The black walls reflect the moody shades of pink, orange, and blue shining from the lights above and you find that the music isn’t as loud in the little corner he finds for you two. When you’re ready, he pulls out a small box tied with a ribbon from his pocket.

“Wanted to give you this on your actual birthday but didn’t want Atsumu’s big mouth to ruin it out there,” he says and you chuckle, carefully taking the box from his fingers and unwrapping the bow. You pull off the lid and find a delicately silver chain threaded through a pendant indented to resemble a volleyball; flipping it over and admiring it in the light, you discover a stamped “H” on the back that only appears when the light hits it just right. 

“Hajime, this is beautiful,” you breathe. 

“You like it?”

“I love it.” You remove the necklace from the box, but before you can fasten it around your neck, he stops you. 

“May I?”

“You are a hopeless romantic,” you grin. 

“Only for you.” His fingers brushing your neck send goosebumps over your skin and he carefully secures the chain at the back. 

“How do I look?” You turn to face him and see his pupils blown wide open, licking his lips and blinking to maintain his restraint. 

“Like you’re mine,” he rasps and he closes the remaining distance between your bodies, letting your back hit the wall and tilting your chin up with two fingers to kiss you. Your fingers comb through his hair and he groans into your mouth when you tug on it experimentally. His hands firmly grip your waist while he kisses you infuriatingly slowly, like he was savoring this private moment without the prying eyes of his teammates. He pulls away to breathe but doesn’t go far, nudging his nose against yours. “The guys didn’t say anything dumb to you, did they?”

“No, but they did let me know how much you talk about me,” you whisper and he rolls his eyes again, your eyelashes brushing his face when he leans in close again. “And how much your dumbass gets pranked.” 

“In my defense–” You cut him off with an uncontrollable fit of laughter, one that he joins into with a tired shake of his head. “You know what? I don’t have a defense. Happy birthday, my love.” He presses a sweet kiss to the top of your forehead. “Every day I think about what I did to deserve someone like you.”

“You existed and I found you,” you say simply. “That’s just how it works and now you’re stuck with me and all my future birthdays.”

“You say that like I’m not ready to grow old with you in any lifetime.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[holllandtrash]

may the best man win | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 7 (final part) to better left unsaid (the better series)

time passes, feelings changes and sometimes they grow stronger. do you attempt to return to the history you know, to what once made you feel comfortable? is it even possible for you to love again, but more importantly, are you ready to be loved?

word count: 6.6k tags: heartbreak lmao but its not all heartbreak, or is it idk all i know is im team max

Two Months Later

Pierre should have been ecstatic as he crossed the finish line in Abu Dhabi. It was his last lap, his last race of the year. He finished in the top ten in the driver standings, ahead of his team mate, which was something he should have been proud of, and he was. 

He was also proud of the fight he put in this season, especially when the points became close, specifically with Lando. The two of them spent the better part of these last two months battling it out for the same finishing positions.

But competition with the British driver had been tense ever since Monza. While it was unspoken, they both took their frustrations out on the track. Both of them blamed the other for why you weren’t there. 

Fans had picked up on it. Noticing that the two of them didn’t interact as much as they used to. There were no inside jokes shared in the paddock. They barely glanced at each other if they had press conferences lined up. There was a clear line drawn between them and that line was you. 

Pierre told himself that you were at home watching the races, that you were still cheering him on, but there was no way of telling if that was true or not.

He had thought about inviting you to the last race of the season, just out of kindness, but he didn’t want to push you further away. You needed time. 

So there was no one to congratulate him at the end of his last race. No one to drive back to the hotel with and reminisce about the season's highlights and no one to accompany him to the club where everyone was celebrating. It didn’t help that the girlfriends of other drivers were all there as well and Pierre just had to smile and greet them, pretending he wasn’t jealous even though all he wanted was you at his side.

Pierre stepped up to the bar. He’d be blind not to notice the tall blonde girl sitting on the stool wearing a tight black dress that made her legs look even longer. She eyed Pierre up as he approached, a coy smile on her face.

Pierre was polite, he smiled and nodded. She could have been a fan of motorsport for all he knew, he wasn’t going to be a prick. He rested his forearms against the surface of the bar and when the bartender approached, Pierre ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t need anything fancy tonight, he just wanted to get drunk.

The girl next to him adjusted herself on the seat, nearly slipping off. Pierre glanced in her direction, strictly out of concern, “You alright?”

She let out a breath of a chuckle, “Yeah, all good. Just-” she glanced around, but Pierre knew these tactics, he was familiar with them. “-just waiting for a friend, but I think I may have been ditched.”

Pierre hummed, turning his attention to the bar again, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited. It was rum and coke. How long did it take? 

He froze when he felt a freshly manicured hand rest on his arm. He glanced at the contact, trying not to let the distaste show, but why was this girl touching him? 

Since you left him in Monza, Pierre hadn’t even bothered looking at another girl. He’d go out with his friends and other drivers, but he’d always end up back at his hotel room alone. He no longer cared about the chase, he didn’t care about getting in a quick fuck.

If he was being honest, there were dozens of nights where Pierre hovered his thumb over your contact name, debating calling you after a long day. He wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just for a second, even if you didn’t answer and he was left with your voicemail, he just wanted to hear you. 

But he never called. He didn’t text. Didn’t even like any of your photos on instagram, giving you the space that he knew you needed. Granted, you made it clear it was Lando you were trying to distance yourself from, but Pierre knew that trying to interfere while you were in the process of moving on wouldn’t be beneficial. 

So he waited, in the hopes that you would call. Or text. Or like one of his fucking tweets, literally anything. Anything to show that you still cared. That you weren’t done because he certainly wasn’t. 

No one compared to you, and Pierre had known that for a while, long before that night in the club. 

Ever since Lando joined F1 and you showed up at his side, Pierre took an interest in you. In the beginning, he didn’t know what sort of relationship you and Lando had, so he kept things respectful so as to not cross a line. 

But he could hear your laugh from halfway across the paddock and instantly recognize it. Your smile lit up whatever room you walked into and it wasn’t long before Pierre came to realise that he wanted to be the reason for it. 

So he tried talking to you, but at that point, he already had a reputation. You were polite, sure, but you didn’t give him the time of day that he wanted and your attention always went back to Lando.

Pierre noticed it pretty quickly, how in love with him you were. He could never figure out why, he still couldn’t. You deserved someone better than Lando, someone who put you first in their life. 

And even when you started to see that someone else could love you, that Pierre could possibly love you, you still went back to Lando.

Pierre should have accepted this as something that would always happen. He should have gotten over you and flirted with the girl next to him in an attempt to forget you ever existed. 

But that just wasn’t possible. You had made too much of an impact on his life and left too large of a gap when you left.

“You seem lovely, but I’m really not looking for anything,” Pierre let this girl down gently, slowly peeling her fingers off of his arm. He turned his head forward before she could say anything else and it was only a second later when she hopped off the seat and walked away.

The bartender came and placed the drink in front of him, apologising for the wait. Pierre brushed it off, it was a busy night in this club. He reached for his wallet to pull out his card and start a tab, knowing he’d be here for the next little while.

But the bartender shook his head. He wasn’t about to take the payment. 

Pierre chalked it up to him being recognized. Not that it happened often, but every now and then he’d get a meal comped or his drinks paid for if the employee or manager of the establishment was a fan. 

“Thanks mate,” Pierre put his wallet away and grabbed the rum and coke. 

The bartender only nodded his head towards the opposite end of the bar, “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

Pierre’s smile dropped. If it was that blonde girl again trying another move he would feel bad because he’d just have to let her down a second time. Pierre took a sip of his drink before working up the courage to look towards the end of the bar. 

But that blonde girl wasn’t there. In fact, no one on that side was even remotely paying him attention, all focused on their own drinks and conversations or trying to shout their orders to the bartenders. 

Pierre didn’t let himself think too much about it.

Until he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder.

He sighed, “I already said I’m not looking for anything.”

Pierre turned around, fully expecting to come face to face with the girl from earlier. He was bracing himself for the tight dress, shy smile and long blonde hair. 

What he didn’t expect was you. 

Standing there wearing a baby pink long sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed off more cleavage than normal and a white skirt that sat high on your hips, giving you a very barbie-esque sort of feel, especially with the coloured heels to match. The lights from the club were flickering, highlighting the features that Pierre had burned into his mind. Your full lips, the small birthmarks you tried to hide with make up and your eyes that weren’t as important in colour as they were in the way that completely absorbed him. 

You were standing right in front of him. 

You glanced at the rum in coke in his hand, that familiar charming smile appearing on your lips as you darted your line of sight upwards to meet his own eyes.

“I owed you a drink,” you said, then you swallowed, eyebrows pinched together. “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember.”

It was a cute call back to that night in the club, the first time you had given him more than just a friendly smile. He charmed his way in that night, and the rejection from Lando made it all the much easier to agree to leave with him, but you were thankful the night didn’t end with the two of you tangled between the sheets.

A relationship started that night. It started the second Pierre bought the drink for you, knowing he’d have an excuse to approach you later. Neither of you could have predicted how the next few weeks would follow.

Now here you were, after avoiding him for two months. And Pierre wasn’t one who often found himself speechless, but there were no words in any language that could describe how he was feeling. 

He wanted to be happy to see you. He wanted to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you like no one was watching. 

But the fact that you were in Abu Dhabi and he wasn’t the one who invited you, the door creaked opened for more insecurities to slide in.

If you weren’t there because of Pierre, you were there because of Lando.

Two Weeks Earlier

You flipped through a manila folder, slowly spinning back and forth in your chair. Recently you’ve been dedicating more time to your job and it was a helpful distraction. Most of your coworkers knew you had connections in the F1 world, but none of them knew what was going on behind the scenes. 

And because this motorsport series was so popular, you found yourself walking in on various conversations. Someone asked for your input on the Circuit of the Americas and you said about five words before changing the topic. Someone else asked what your thoughts were on the unexpected Alpine podium and you just shrugged and smiled, saying something along the lines of it was well deserved. When another coworker asked about an incident Lando faced during the qualifying session in Mexico, you said that it probably wouldn’t affect his race and then you pulled out your phone to tune out the rest of what was being said.

You couldn’t escape these drivers, you couldn’t run from this sport. The most you could do was at least try and avoid the conversations about them.

But when your coworker, Sam, walked by your desk at the end of a work day, he did a double take and knocked on your cubicle wall.

“Hi,” you glanced up from the documents in your hand. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, but I meant to ask-” Sam looked over your head at the row of windows on the opposite side of your work station. “Since when does Lando Norris let you borrow his cars?”

You scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s a McLaren 720S outside,” Sam pointed out. “Isn’t that what he drives?”

“I don’t know what Lando drives but I can assure you, that man wouldn’t let me behind the wheel of any of his cars,” you spun to face your computer, wanting this conversation to be over. You wished no one knew you were friends with him. 

Sam didn’t leave though. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You could hear the keyboard sound effects as he furiously typed away before shoving his phone in your face. It took you a second to understand what you were looking at, but on the small screen was an image of Lando next to a blue McLaren 720s, a huge smile on his face.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?” you looked up at Sam.

“It’s the exact same car that’s outside.”

“Well I didn’t drive it.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Is he here? Is he picking you up from work? Do you think I could-”

“Okay slow down,” you laughed, trying to make light of this situation but internally you were panicking. Was Lando here? In London? “I’m sure he’s not the only one who owns-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Not when the man of the hour himself came walking around the corner, being escorted by two other employees who were undoubtedly fans. Why else would they have let him into the employees only area? Lando wore a baggy jumper, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around with wide eyes until he finally spotted you. 

Sam’s jaw dropped and you understood why. You never tried to hide your friendship with the driver, but him showing up at your place of work was not something that ever happened. And you couldn’t understand why it was happening now. 

Lando’s feet shuffled against the floor. He thanked the two employees for showing them where you sat, but they didn’t return to their work, they just hovered a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of them. 

He nodded at Sam, offering him a smile as well and when Sam glanced your way you nodded your head for him to get the hint, hoping he’d give you at least a bit of privacy. Sam cleared his throat, still starstruck, but he walked away, joining the other employees who stood near the corner.

Lando stepped into your cubicle and leaned against the desk. You weren’t a fan of the height difference and you didn’t want to feel as though he was talking down to you, so you stood up from your chair. You leaned against the wall opposite of him, making sure to keep as much room between you as possible.

“This part of the gallery usually isn’t open to visitors,” you pointed out, not even bothering with an actual greeting. You didn’t like that he used his status to enter this side of the building. 

“Look I said I was fine waiting for you to get off work and they just-” Lando glanced over his shoulder and at once, the three coworkers of yours all scurried off in their own directions. Lando sighed and looked at you again, “I needed to talk to you.”

It had been just over two months since you last spoke. Since you left Monza without giving him an explanation. Since you stood in his driver's room and said ‘this ends here’. You were firm with that statement. 

Lando respected that, for the most part. He gave you space. He didn’t call or text, even though Max told you that there were a handful of times when he almost did and he had to physically force the phone out of Lando’s hands. 

But he should have waited until you decided you were ready to reach out again. He had no reason for showing up at your place of work. 

Now that he was here, you felt so unprepared. You didn’t know what to say to him, you didn’t know what he was going to say. Usually you worked your way up to any difficult conversations but Lando showing up out of the blue completely blindsided you. 

I needed to talk to you, he said. You hated that. The word need. Lando always needed something from you. He took so much. Your energy, your time, your love, and never gave any of it back and you put up with it for way too long. He didn’t have the right to need anything from you anymore. 

“This couldn’t have waited?” You asked, gesturing to the work space around you. “Better yet, you couldn’t have waited until I wanted to talk?”

“No, because I was starting to get the feeling that time would never come.”

 “So instead of respecting the space I asked for, you decided that what you wanted took priority?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do you sort of see how that’s not fair? How it’s selfish? Or have you just not learned anything in my absence?”

“I learned you don’t need me,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if that conclusion was one he could just brush off, like it still hasn’t fully resonated with him.

But it was a true statement. Your silence said it all.

Lando nodded slowly, “So you don’t- you don’t miss me at all?”

That’s where you still conflicted.

You did miss Lando, there was no denying that. He was your best friend, you shared hundreds of memories with him and it did feel like something was missing in your life these last few months. 

But you needed him gone to get over him.

Being in love with him took so much out of you. Knowing that he didn’t, and never would, love you back was something you needed to accept and grow from. Taking this step back, you realised just how much of yourself you dedicated to Lando and to his life. 

So you kept taking those steps back until he was no longer within reach. You needed to keep putting the distance between yourself and him. You needed to be your own person. You couldn’t just be Lando’s best friend anymore. As much as he wanted that, it wasn’t doing you any favours.

“Of course I missed you,” you dropped your head, jaw tightening for a second. “But I don’t love you anymore, Lando.”

Again, Lando nodded. If you were looking up, you would have seen the way his features softened, making him look so much younger than he actually was. He always had a boyish charm to him and when he was hurt or unsettled, those young mannerisms in him jumped out.

“Sort of feels like a break up,” Lando forced a smile on his face, as if it made this any easier.

But he was right. This was, in a sense, your relationship coming to an end. There was a dull ache in your chest as it hit, but deep down you had known this was coming for a while. The conversation, the confrontation and eventually, the conclusion. 

You once loved Lando. How could you not? 

You once loved everything about him. From his different types of laughs to the way you could tell his smiles apart better than he could. You supported him for years, you were his rock and one point, you thought that he was yours. 

But he was a crutch. Something you could learn to live without. Something you didn’t need, but was too scared to give up.

He would always be someone you cared about, but his place in your life meant something different now. More importantly, you took away his ability to crush your heart in his hands without so much as a second thought. 

You both noticed a few employees sliding on their jackets and heading for the door. Lando ran a hand through his hair before glancing at his watch, “Did you want a ride home?”

“No, I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” you denied his offer, but you noticed the way his eyebrows momentarily raised. You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a date if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No I-” Lando stammered over his words. “I mean, it’s natural to be curious. But you’re allowed- obviously you can date whoever-”

“Lando,” you cut him off before he could say something stupid. He instantly closed his mouth and let you speak. “I’m going to walk you out, okay?”

And that was that. You grabbed your jacket and turned off your monitor. Lando grabbed your bag for you and waited until your coat was on before handing it over. The two of you walked side by side towards the doors of the gallery, elbows brushing occasionally. 

As you stepped outside, you were thankful that the silence wasn’t heavy. There was nothing left for you to say and Lando knew he couldn’t change your mind. Your friendship, while not completely destroyed, was certainly tainted. The space between you might become less distant over time, but it was permanent. 

You could still watch the races and support him, but on your own accord, the way you decided to. There would be no more McLaren paddock passes. There would be no more hanging out in his motorhome, you would just be a friend who could cheer him on from afar. 

Sure enough, Lando’s McLaren was parked outside. You walked with him towards the driver's side door, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he made no effort to get in or say goodbye.

He inhaled a heavy breath and you just knew whatever words were to follow weren’t going to be good.

“What if things were different?”

You had spent so much wondering about the what if’s that hearing Lando ask it now was almost humorous. 

“That’s a dangerous game, Lando.”

He leaned against the side of his car, “What is?”

“Asking what if.” 

Lando chuckled, dipping his head momentarily. “It’s a genuine question, though. What if things were different?”

“But they’re not,” that was all you could say. It was the truth you accepted and now it was his turn to accept it as well. “Things will never be different. You don’t love me, you never loved me and that’s all I wanted from you. I can’t hold that against you and in return I need you to be okay with me taking a step back from your life.”

There were so many thoughts travelling behind those bright eyes of his, you could tell he was trying to figure out which one to land on. 

You made it easier for him, “Why did you come here?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, “What do you mean?”

“Well I know you didn’t come here to ask me what if things were different so why are you here? I mean, you have two races left. You’ve gone this far without me. If you’re trying to pull some sort of grand gesture, could you not have at least waited until the end of the season?”

Lando hesitated before answering you, thinking of the right words first before just opening his mouth, “I won’t lie, Y/N, I wanted to see how you were doing. I think part of me expected you to come back or reach out and when you didn’t-” he shrugged, he always shrugged. “I just wanted to check in. No grand gesture, don’t worry. I know where you stand, but I’m allowed to still care about you.”

A gust of wind hit your back, blowing a few strands of hair in front of your face. It was early November, not an ideal time of the year to be standing outside and having a conversation, but this might be the last opportunity you two had to air things out. 

So you sucked it up and dealt with the cold, shoving your hands in your pockets and watching as Lando licked his lips. He also avoided your eye contact, something he only did when he was nervous.

“I also want to apologise.”

Your eyebrow twitched, “For what?” 

This man definitely owed you a few apologies, but you didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next.

“Everything, really,” Lando laughed softly and it almost made you smile in response. You were only human, you could miss his laugh. 

You nudged your foot against his, “I’m going to need a little more than that.”

He finally looked at you. There was a time when his grey eyes would have floored you, but not anymore. You were still standing.

“Everything,” Lando repeated, quieter this time. “For taking you for granted. Your friendship, your support, everything you gave me. For not appreciating you how I should have. For leading you on. For getting in the way of you and Pierre. For not loving you the way you wanted me to- I could go on, Y/N, but I need you to know I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

Maybe he did learn something in your absence. 

You didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could show your appreciation for his growth, for his ability to take responsibility and acknowledge what went wrong.

So instead of trying to rely on words, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Lando hesitated, unsure if he was even allowed to hug you back before slowly raising his arms and snaking them around your waist. 

He knew this would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this. 

You knew this would be the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be this close to him.

So there was no hurry to pull away. You could feel Lando’s heartbeat against his chest, his body heat pulling you in like a moth to a flame, his heavy breath as his face dipped right next to yours. 

You held each other for a minute, maybe two. No more words were exchanged, but you and Lando had a bond that couldn't be described by anything the English dictionary had to offer.

Even in these uncertain times, you could count on his embrace to make the world around you freeze. You both had your own problems, your own reasons for needing space from each other but in his arms, they didn’t matter. You felt safe, comforted, this was the Lando that you had loved and it was hard to believe you weren’t going to have this anymore.

And then it was like Lando knew he had to be the one to let go. He had to be the one to release you, to stop giving you a reason to hold on. 

He dropped his arms, both of you deciding not to speak about how painful this was, but your staggered inhale of a breath said it all. The way he sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck told you that this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for you.

For a brief second, you were almost crazy enough to apologise. It always hurt you to see Lando struggling, but your absence was something he was going to have to learn to live with. You didn’t need to apologise for it, for trying to better yourself.

“There is, actually, one more thing,” Lando suddenly said, reaching for the handle of the door, propping it open. You watched as the door to his luxury car swung upwards instead of out as Lando reached inside and grabbed an envelope. When he turned back around and handed it over, it was impossible to tell what it was.

Lando didn’t say anything as you opened it. His lips curled upwards when the realisation of what was inside slowly hit you. 

“A Paddock pass,” you swallowed, recognising the lanyard. 

“And plane tickets,” he added. “And a hotel booking. For Abu Dhabi.”

“The last race.”

“You should be there,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. His shoulders tensed, like he was suddenly debating if this was the best idea.

“Lando I can’t hang out in McLaren,” you sighed, wondering if the last five minutes of your conversation had already escaped him.

“No, you should be there for you,” Lando clarified. “You love the sport, Y/N, you’ve always attended the last race of the season. That shouldn’t change.”

You pulled the pass out of the envelope and twirled it around your fingers. The bright font of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix stood out along the black and you had to admit, it was a kind gesture, a selfless one for a change.

“You should be there,” Lando repeated. “And I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked up at him again, dropping the pass into the envelope. “What do you mean?”

This man actually had the audacity to look at you like you were stupid.

“Oh come on Y/N,” a chuckle passed through his lips. “Pierre?” 

You hesitated, “What about him?”

“He wants you there.”

“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“He still wants you there.” Lando shook his head, putting a stop to your doubts before they could creep up. “He’s just got more restraint than me and isn’t about to reach out or make you feel like you have to be there.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. There was no question about it, you missed Pierre, but you were the one who ended things with him. You weren’t sure if you had the right to go back to him now and ask for a fresh start.

“Think about it, okay?” Lando extended his hand to give your arm an encouraging pat. He then made the move to get into his car and you took a step back to give him space. His eyes raked over you once more, probably wondering if this was the last time he would see you in the next little while, but he didn’t comment on it. He chose not to acknowledge it either, instead saying a quiet, “See you later,” and hoping those words would come true.

You had a few weeks to decide if you wanted to attend the last race of the season. You wanted to be strong and stay home. You nearly ripped the tickets up at one point, thinking it would make the decision easier, but everything was digital nowadays so it wasn't like that gesture mattered. 

You wanted to watch the race. You wanted to cheer on your favourite drivers. You wanted to see Pierre. 

And eventually it was your desire for all of those things that overpowered the distance you knew was better for you. 

So you found yourself in Abu Dhabi that last weekend in November. You walked into the paddock when you knew the drivers would be busy with their teams and headed straight for the Paddock Club, choosing to watch the race from there. You kept your sunglasses on and made yourself as unapproachable as possible as you silently watched and rooted for the French driver. 

When word got out of a few drivers heading to a specific nightclub, you knew that would be your chance to talk to Pierre. After the race and before he got drunk. 

You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. Lando said he would want you to be there, but you still had your fears. You had called things off and there was no guarantee that he would want to pick things back up, that he would be so open to letting you back into his life. 

When he ordered a drink, you saw it as an opportunity. When the bartender was near you, you quickly paid for Pierre’s rum and coke. He didn’t question it and neither did Pierre. 

You walked around the side of the bartop, behind all of the other patrons and watched as Pierre tried to look for who had paid for his drink. You thought about saying his name to get his attention, you even thought about just walking away because was this really a good idea? But when his back was towards you, something in you pulled you forward, just enough so you could tap on his shoulder. 

He turned around, wearing an expression you couldn't quite read. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I owed you a drink,” you blurted out, thinking of the first night you finally decided to give him more than thirty seconds of your time. 

Pierre had approached you in the bar and bought your drink, telling him that you could thank him later. His words were laced with dirty intent, and while you were nowhere near as charming as Pierre was, you still tried. 

 “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember,” you quickly added. 

Pierre was silent for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape. He certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and now he was speechless. There had been hundreds of things he wanted to say to you over the course of the last few weeks but for the life of him, none of them came to mind.

You had no choice but to take control of the conversation for a change, “It was a good race. Good job. A top ten finish, and you beat the McLarens that must-

“You watched?” Pierre asked. He hadn’t meant to cut you off but he was still trying to process that you were actually right there and now to find out you were also in the audience watching? He was about to implode. 

“Of course,” you nodded. Someone tried to step past you so you moved closer to Pierre to make room. And it was like nothing had changed, Pierre raised his hand to rest on your waist, automatically feeling that urge to reach for you, to be touching you. 

He quickly put the drink down on the bartop, he had no desire for it anymore. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was get drunk. 

With his other hand free, Pierre raised it to cup the side of your face. He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your cheek. You were really there. 

“Chérie,” he spoke so quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music playing from the speakers around you. But you watched his lips as he spoke, taking in every word, every breath. “You don’t know how bad I missed you.”

That was a weight lifted off your shoulders. Lando was right, Pierre did want you there. 

And you could have said you missed him too. You could have laughed it off and teased him for it. You could have rolled your eyes, something he was all too familiar with seeing. 

But instead of doing any of that, you grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and closed the last bit of space between you. You kissed him like you were making up for lost time, you basically were. Pierre’s hand slid to rest where your neck met your jaw and there was a desire to rush, to taste every bit of his tongue against yours, to let him intoxicate all of your senses, but Pierre’s moves were slow. He wanted to take his time, relish in this moment and to keep you in his grasp for as long as he could, until you were both desperate for a breath.

Pierre pressed another kiss to your lips, and then another, and another and then to your cheeks and your forehead and every visible spot on your face that he thought needed some attention. You giggled like a schoolgirl as his arm slipped around your neck, pulling you tight into his chest to hold you, hug you, feel you in his arms. 

“I missed you,” Pierre said again, still quiet but there was no underlying ache in his tone. He missed you, but he didn’t have to anymore. You weren’t going anywhere. 

Neither of you cared that you were sharing this embrace in the middle of the club, but other people certainly didn’t like it. When someone made a playful 'get a room' comment, Pierre laughed into your ear. God you never wanted to go two months without hearing his laughter ever again. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre suggested, placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your face up. He kissed you again, his hand slipping into yours before turning around, his eyes set on the door. You happily followed.

The club was crowded. You recognized a few paddock employees and members from various teams and of course the drivers who were out partying, but everyone was in their own little world as the two of you walked past.

Well…

Not everyone.

It happened so fast. You turned your head at the right second and caught Lando’s eyes from where he sat in a booth. Not only was he watching you, he was watching you leave with Pierre. 

Someone walked in front of you, cutting off your line of sight for a brief moment. You felt Pierre’s grip on your hand tighten. Looking up, and saw that Pierre was staring straight ahead. If he noticed Lando, he didn’t hint towards it. 

Glancing back at Lando one last time, you watched as he lifted the drink in his hand and nodded once, a toast-like gesture, but in this case it was so much more than a little congratulatory one-sided cheers. 

He released his final hold over you. There were no more strings tying you to Lando. He wasn’t going to get in between you and Pierre. He was going to let you be happy with the French driver. 

Lando would still continue to want what was best for you, but that wasn’t him anymore. That was Pierre.

So he watched as a sliver of a smile appeared on your lips, so quick he almost missed it, before following Pierre outside. You were gone.

Feeling a nudge on his arm, Lando turned his head and met the concerned eyes of Max. Max, someone who had been a witness to everything these last few months, was definitely happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

“You alright?” Max asked him and Lando just nodded, glancing at the spot you just abandoned. 

“Yeah,” he didn’t sound very convincing, but Max knew that eventually he’d say it and mean it. 

He brought his drink up to his lips, “I guess the best man won.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, shoving Max with his elbow. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough that he spilled his beer over the front of his shirt.

“It was never a competition you numbskull.”

Max plastered his best dumbfounded look on his face, “Oh, you mean Y/N? I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the driver standings.”

Lando snorted, knowing that Max was most definitely not talking about the driver standings, but it was a good retort to fall back on. Pierre had beat him in the last two races, putting him ahead of the two McLaren drivers in the championship. 

Lando put up a good fight throughout the season but towards the end he managed to come to the realisation that no matter what, he wouldn’t pull ahead. Beating Pierre wasn’t in his cards. 

Neither was keeping you.

But not all hope was lost. Lando would fight even harder next year. This year’s competition made him a better driver. And motorsport aside, he knew he’d still see you around. At a distance, only in passing, and most likely with Pierre, but you’d be there. 

Losing you forced him to grow up. He had no choice but to better himself, and he would. 

The what if’s would continue to haunt him, they would haunt all of you. The ghosts of what could have been. The paths you never took. What if Pierre hadn’t hit on you that night in the club? What if Lando spoke to you the morning after? What if you spent the summer break alone? What if what if what if. 

The thing was, though, none of it mattered.

You were happy. Lando would learn to live without you. Pierre played the long game and it worked out in his favour. The lingering questions didn’t matter. The only thing left to do was look ahead. The past held nothing, whereas your future, all of your futures, were brighter and better than they had ever been before. 

why am i crying lmao

and with that, the better series comes to an end :') thank you everyone for reading and for sharing your thoughts and being so invested in their silly little lives.

i will most definitely be writing another mini series, and if you have ideas or see something on my prompt list, pls send me a request here! i can't promise it'll turn into a 7-part fic but i do love getting requests and who knows?? maybe i'll write a lando fic and turn u all back into lando girlies??

love u all so much and for the record, i was always team pierre

[ashwhowrites]

Rockstar! Eddie Munson x Reader, so what if he met reader at some concert and they ended up hooking up, then Reader got pregnant and she told Eddie (like idk, maybe she saw him somewhere, or he gave her his number?) so he was scared at first but then he tried to help her in everything she needed, after some months they started dating, and then they had a girl, and Eddie was like full on dad mode? (I imagine like Eddie being scared about it, bc he liked Reader but they kind of "hate" each other, but it's bc they don't know each other very well, and also I imagine him talking with Wayne, and Wayne being like don't be scared, you're gonna be a great dad, or something like that?) Idk if this made sense, but I hope it does!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Eddie couldn't help but let the tears run down his face when Y/N handed over their baby girl. Y/N was exhausted, sweat in her hair but Eddie thought she looked as beautiful as the day he met her. She closed her eyes for much-needed rest, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts and a tiny baby in his arms.

He rocked the baby gently, remembering all the mini-lessons Wayne gave him throughout Y/N's pregnancy. He prepared for this day for the last 9 months, yet he felt like he was in over his head. But he focused on the way his heart exploded with so much love for the two girls in front of him. The very two girls who changed his life for the better and showed him what falling in love was like.

As Eddie listened to the little cries of his daughter, he couldn't help but reflect on everything that got him to this exact spot.

~~~

The adrenaline ran through his veins as he raced off the stage, his shirt glued to his chest with sweat, and the screams echoing in his ears.

Eddie headed straight to the nearest bar and drank until he barely remembered a thing. Some sweet voice in his ear, a soft pair of lips on his, and hands removing his clothes. It was all a blur, he woke up alone but the taste of her was on his tongue.

He went to sleep every night trying to rack his brain to remember her, even a tiny glimpse. He swore he felt her touch still and her scent lingered on the shirt he wore that night.

But Eddie was used to one-night stands so he figured she'd be another figure he fell asleep with but wouldn't wake up to see again.

And boy was he wrong.

~

He felt like he was going to throw up. A beautiful girl, who he learned was Y/N, sat across from him with a sick expression. A number called and called him over and over, it was driving him insane so he finally picked up. He did not expect a girl on the other line to say she was pregnant with his baby.

Sadly, he had to take precautions with his level of fame. He knew getting blacked out drunk with random women was a dangerous game, he just thought he was smart enough to not have consequences.

"How...we sure...proof it's mine?" Eddie squeaked out. The confident man, who held all the charisma in his smirk, was not across from her. The big rockstar who loved the spotlight seemed frozen and scared. His eyes didn't know where to look, so he looked everywhere. His fingers were pressing into his palm, and she guessed he would leave marks on his nails.

"Yes, I know it's yours. And look I know you have this whole touring the world and being a rockstar. I've been a fan of you for years so I know this is a dream you waited forever for, and since we aren't in a relationship and it was a one-night stand, it's your choice if you want to be involved or not. You have my number, use it if you want." She said, she slid over a small ultrasound picture and left the small diner.

Eddie's eyes locked on the photo and he couldn't breathe. The tiny blob made his heart race with anxiety and his stomach twisted in so many knots. If he was terrified of the tiny thing in that picture, he couldn't imagine having a whole baby.

He was torn. In so many ways it would be easier to act like it didn't happen. To continue the tour and never think about it again. She allowed him to run, but yet he didn't want to run away from her. She haunted his memory and he tried for months to figure out who that girl was that he remembered feeling. And now that he saw her, he wanted to see her face again and again.

He found himself trusting her. Not doubting her an inch. His manager told him to demand a DNA test of some sort before Eddie "ruined" his career, but her eyes were honest. He felt like he already knew her and knew she'd always be true to him. She wanted him to have his dream still, but it wasn't fair to pick a dream with a time limit over a child's life....his child's life.

~

Whenever Eddie was stuck in life, he flew to Hawkins and knocked on that tiny trailer. No matter how many times Eddie begged Wayne to let him pay for a big home, Wayne refused. He loved his life in his small trailer.

Eddie told Wayne everything, embarrassed as Wayne gave him that disapproving look when Eddie told him about all the one-night stands.

"And now she's pregnant. It's up to me to be involved or not. " Eddie said, biting his nails as he watched Wayne for an answer.

"And?" Wayne asked, his arms crossed as he eyed the nervous boy.

"And what?"

"What are you telling me for? Don't you tell me that you want me to tell you what to do, boy?" Wayne said, Eddie has been scolded by Wayne many times in his life, and somehow this felt scarier.

Eddie gulped but nodded his head in defeat. "I don't know what to do. I have no idea how to be a dad. I don't know how to take care of myself. I'm irresponsible and don't even have a solid place to live since I planned to be on the road. I don't have anything good to offer her or this child."

"Get over here," Wayne grunted, he uncrossed his arms.

"Are you going to hit me?" Eddie asked, slowly moving towards him.

"No." With the green light, Eddie walked over, he opened his arms thinking Wayne was going to offer a comforting hug. But instead, he got a smack to the back of his head.

"YOU SAID YOU WEREN'T GOING TO HIT!" Eddie yelled, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head.

"Of course, I'm gonna knock some sense into you, kid! You don't know how to be a dad because you don't have the experience. No one knows how to be a parent until they learn. They have classes and books, and I'll help you. I wasn't a dad until you came along, and I'm proud of who you became. I started with no idea what to do but I made it work. You are going to do the same. Unlike you, she doesn't get the option to run away. And you are not letting her do this alone. Understood?" Wayne demanded.

"Understood."

~~~

Y/N was very shocked when Eddie called and asked to talk. She figured he'd take the opportunity to run and never looked back.

But as her stomach grew, so did her feelings for Eddie. He was the sweetest boy she ever met. He was terrified, but he held it together for her. Whenever she read another birthing book and felt like she was going to panic, he was right there.

When she hit around 5 months, she confessed her complicated feelings towards Eddie. To her surprise, he felt the same. All that time planning for their baby brought them closer together and they understood they'd have a connection to each other that they wouldn't experience with someone else.

Their first kiss, not drunk, was something they both would remember. It wasn't at a huge romantic place with candles everywhere. It was in their own home, in the nursery as Eddie put together the little crib. They were so overwhelmed with the emotion of having a family together and Eddie couldn't wait. He desired to kiss her since the diner and he felt fireworks in his stomach when he first placed his lips on hers.

After a few months passed and she was weeks away from giving birth, Eddie ended his tour early. He made sure he never left her side. Even though their relationship was freshly new, he moved in with her. He wanted to be there all the time for her and their baby. He knew he was in love with her, and he didn't plan to let her go anyway. So why wait?

Wayne was proud, and damn excited to be a grandpa. He turned Eddie's old room into a nursery and begged to babysit whenever it was needed. Wayne fell in love with Y/N within seconds of meeting her. He understood why Eddie was so sure about her.

Eddie read all the books and did all the classes, which meant he might have been too involved.

"Can you sit fine? I can help you." Eddie said through the bathroom door. A loud sigh left Y/N's lips.

"Edward, I told you for the last three hours that I can pee by myself!"

~

"Book says you shouldn't be on your feet this long. Why don't you sit." Eddie said as he quickly through the groceries into the cart.

"Sit where? It's a grocery store." Y/N laughed, having no issues walking through the store.

"Here," Eddie said as he took off his jacket and placed it on the dirty floor.

"Eddie, ew! And I'm not sitting on the floor. There's no way I'll get back up."

~

"Did you cook with the safe foods? Do you have the list of things she can't eat?" Eddie asked as Wayne brought over three plates.

"Edward" both Wayne and Y/N groaned

~

"Lady! You need to move faster. You are holding up the line!" A man groaned as Y/N tried to keep her composure.

"There's a line in front of me! I can't go anywhere, asshole!"

"I hope your bastard of a child doesn't get that kind of lip." The man laughed like his joke was funny. She could feel Eddie tensing as he joined the line next to her. He arrived at the wrong time...or the right time?

Before she could react, Eddie came swinging. His right knuckle cracked against the man's nose. The man dropped to the floor in a groan.

"Don't talk to her like that and don't ever speak about my child like that," Eddie growled.

~

And when it came the day her water broke, he felt more prepared than ever. He held her hand and tried not to flinch as she squeezed it until she cracked his bones. He drove as fast and safely as he could to the hospital. His brain couldn't wrap around the thought that his daughter was hours from being born.

This was finally it

He was going to be a dad

~~

"And now I'm your dad and I'm going to love you more than anything in this world. Your mom is amazing and I can't wait to watch you grow up to be just like her." Eddie whispered, the baby falling asleep to his story as he continued to rock her.

He looked up to see Y/N fast asleep, and he couldn't help but feel a strong amount of love for the two sleeping beauties that were now always going to be part of his life.

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