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sturniluvr · 2 days

Text

Love in the sun

Lando Norris x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: none other than a few mentions of children (if you don’t like kids😭) possible spelling mistakes(?)

summary: Lando and Y/N go on holiday together during the summer break and come home engaged.

A/N: Keep in mind throughout that I have no idea how the luxury life works im broke asf so it may be inaccurate😭and sorry for quite a few time skips I had a bit of writers block😭

❗️semi proof read❗️

Y/N and Lando were currently halfway through their flight en route to Mykonos for a week while Lando had the summer break. The couple had a few things pre planned for the week in Greece such as a party boat they had booked prior to the holiday and Y/N was hoping for no more injuries on Lando's end after the incident in Amsterdam and going to a few tourist attractions, but they mostly just wanted to spend time with each other, they didn’t care what they were doing as long as they were together, and of course they were staying with Hilton as the couple always had the best experiences with Hilton hotels and being a sponsor of McLaren, it was only right they chose Hilton.

Lando was scrolling on his phone and he felt a weight on his shoulder, he looked to his side and saw his girlfriend asleep on his shoulder. The love of his life, his best friend, his girl and hopefully, soon, his wife. She had been by his side since before he made it into f1, he remembers vividly how excited she was when he told her he was offered a seat with McLaren, she seemed more excited than he was, and she hadn’t left his side since. He smiled at the memory. He had a whole plan set in place to propose to Y/N, he couldn’t wait to propose to her, he had brought the ring around 2 years into the relationship when he was out with Max and he saw the perfect ring that just screamed Y/N to him and he’d just been waiting for the perfect moment, which was this holiday and also their 5 year anniversary.

time skip to landing

Lando was looking out the window in his own world when he heard the pilot over the intercom.

“Mr Norris, we will be starting descent in Mykonos in about 10 minutes so please get ready to fasten your seatbelt sir.” On cue, he saw the little seatbelt light come on above his head. He gently shook Y/N to wake her up.

“Darling, we’ll be landing soon, you need to put your seatbelt on.” He spoke quietly as he knows she doesn’t like loud noises when she first wakes up. She stirs and slowly opens her eyes and lifted her head off Lando’s shoulder. Lando looked at her with a soft smile and a little chuckle escaped his lips at the sight of the woman’s messy hair.

“Hey sleepy head, pilot just said to put our belts on we’ll be descending soon.” She nodded at him as she fixed her hair and put her belt on, Lando doing the same next to her.

As they got closer to the ground, Y/N grabbed hold on Lando’s hand to comfort herself as landing was probably her least favourite part of flying and he rubbed her knuckles in a comforting manner.

After landing, they grabbed their luggage and made their way to the chauffeur who led them to the car provided by Hilton to take them to the hotel.

small time skip cus I’m lazy

They arrived to their room in the hotel and unpacked their suitcases and got changed into some clothes more suited to the warm climate of the island they were on for the next two weeks as they had an early flight and when the couple arrived it was only early afternoon After changing, Y/N and Lando left the hotel and went for a small walk around the town and get anything little essentials they may need while on holiday like bottles of water, snacks for the hotel room etc.

“Don’t forget we need to buy sunscreen aswel, since somebody left it behind being the clever clogs he is.” Y/N said, giving Lando a cheeky smile.

“Ha Ha, very funny cheeky.” Lando replied sarcastically, pinching her side softly. The couple laughed as they continued to walk in and out of shops and buy the essentials.

Later on that day, Y/N was relaxing on a sunbed reading her book and Lando was next to her on another sunbed with his hat over his eyes. About half hour later, Y/N was now lying on her stomach so she could tan her back aswel as her front and she felt a pair of hands smack her bum. She looked behind to see her boyfriend with a boyish smile on his face, she smiled back at him and rolled her eyes jokingly at his actions.

“Do you want another drink baby? I'm going to the bar.” Lando stated and she nodded.

“Same again please Lan, I'm going to head up to the room for a little siesta, it’s getting pretty warm out here.” He nodded in understanding knowing how easily the heat got to her sometimes, that’s why he always made sure she was well hydrated and was taking care of herself.

“Okay baby, I’ll grab our drinks and I’ll come up aswel and have a quick shower or something.” She nodded at her boyfriend before he left to go get their drinks from the bar. She packed up everything she had brought down to the pool with her and made her way into the hotel and up to their room.

couple days later

Y/N was relaxing on the balcony of the hotel room while waiting for Lando to get back, he’d told her he was going out to get some more water for the room when in reality he was sat in the hotel reception talking on the phone to the manager of the restaurant he was planning to take Y/N to on the last day of the holiday, their anniversary, to finalise any details about the proposal and the booking details.

“So, you’ll tell her you’re going to the bathroom and one of our waiters will lead her out to the beach? Is that correct Mr Norris?” the manager asked Lando over the phone.

“Yes, that is correct. Thank you again for helping me with this. It means a lot.” Lando replied, the manager smiled at the idea of young love.

“It's quite alright sir. Right, that's all booked and ready for you for a few days' time.”

Once everything was finalised, he thanked the manager and hung up the phone and left the hotel with a small smile on his face at the thought of him proposing to the love of his life in the next couple days and made his way to the little shop 10 minutes from the hotel and grabbed the bottles of water like he had told Y/N he was doing.

He walked back to the hotel and into the hotel room where he was met with the sight of Y/N asleep on the sofa in the living area with the balcony door open to let a breeze in and her book covering her face. He smiled in amusement and put the crate of water bottles down and he made his way over to the sofa. He crouched down in front of her and took her book from off her face, keeping his thumb on the page so she wouldn’t lose her page and quickly put her bookmark in place before closing it. He gently shook her awake.

“Wake up sleepy head. We need to go downstairs for lunch soon.” She opened her eyes lazily and looked at Lando with a sleepy smile which he returned with a smile of his own. She slowly sat up and picked up her half drunk bottle of water off the table in front of her.

“Hey pretty girl, the sun tired you out huh?” He joked, stroking her thigh. She nodded softly before speaking.

“Yeah, and it didn’t help next door had a crying baby and I couldn’t focus on my book, so I just came inside.” Lando chuckled at her response.

“We’ll be heading down for lunch in a minute if you wanna go freshen up a bit beforehand.” The curly haired boy spoke, Y/N nodded and made her way to their bedroom to put a clean top on as she had some sweat stains that didn’t look flattering at all and touched up the small amount of makeup she had on which consisted of just concealer, mascara and some lip balm.

The couple both headed down to lunch, indulging in conversation about the most random topics causing them both to start laughing. The couple were suddenly interrupted by a little girl, who looked no older than 5 and had a little bunny stuffed animal in her arms, who came up to them and tapped Y/N’s arm softly.

“Excuse me miss, can you help me find my mummy. I was with her and my older brother and now I can’t find them.” The older woman’s eyes softened at the sight of the tears in the little girl's eyes. She nodded at her.

“Of course, sweetheart. What’s your name?” Y/N spoke in a gentle tone.

“Emily, I’m sorry for interrupting you two, but I recognised Lando because Jack my brother is a formula one fan and I’ve seen him on tv, so I thought you two seemed safe rather than a complete stranger.” Emily admitted shyly, Lando nodded at her with a smile before the couple stood up to help her find her brother and mum.

“You did the right thing sweetie. C’mon we’ll help you find your mum” Lando spoke, he held the little girl's small hand in his and the three of them made their way over to the front desk at reception.

“Excuse me, this little girl has lost her mum. Do you have any idea where she could be?” Y/N asked the lady on the front desk. She nodded and made her way around to the front of the desk so she could talk to Emily.

“What does your mum look like sweetheart?” She asked as she crouched down to her size.

“Brown hair, green eyes, she had a long blue dress on, she was with my older brother who was wearing red swim shorts and a Minecraft t-shirt” the receptionist nodded at her. All of a sudden, they heard the voice of a woman, Y/N looked up to see a woman matching Emily’s description of her mother.

“Emily! There you are baby!” She ran over and gave her a quick hug. Emily pointed to the three other adults before she spoke to her mum.

“The helped me mummy. Lando and his girlfriend helped me find you and the nice lady on reception!” Emily walked over to Y/N and gave her a hug which Y/N reciprocated.

“Thank you.” Emily muttered smiling up at the couple. They both smiled at her.

“Thank you for helping my daughter, we were so worried!” Her mum exclaimed.

“It’s fine honestly! I can’t imagine how worried I’d be if I’d lost my kid in a resort this big.” She replied, the two women chuckling at her response. Lando looked to Jack and smiled.

“Hey buddy, I hear you’re a formula one fan? Do you want a photo?” He asked and Jack nodded quickly, the children’s mum pulled out her phone and Jack walked over to Lando and the pair took a photo together. Jack said a quick thank you to the driver before the little family headed off and the couple went to their room to get ready for the party boat they were going on later, which thankfully did not end in any injuries on Lando’s part this time.

the last night of the holiday

Tonight was Y/N and Lando’s last night of the holiday, and it was their anniversary. After a morning full of cuddles, kisses, some less PG stuff and exchanging cards and gifts, the couple had spent the rest of the day walking around visiting little landmarks around Mykonos and getting gifts for family members.

They were now currently getting ready to head out to the Italian restaurant Lando had booked for them. Y/N was wearing a flowy white dress that came down to just below her knees and Lando was wearing a plain white dress shirt and some khaki shorts that Y/N had brought him just before they came to Mykonos.

“You ready sweetheart?” Lando shouted to Y/N from the bedroom. She walked in and smiled at him.

“Yup. You ready?” She replied walking into the bedroom smiling at Lando who was sat on the bed. He reached out to her and rested his hands on her waist and pulled her into him, he pulled her down slightly and planted a kiss to her lips.

“You look stunning baby. An absolute princess if you ask me.” he expressed with a small smirk on his face. She grabbed her bag off the bed and grabbed Lando’s hand and the couple made their way out the hotel and to the restaurant.

Once they arrived at the restaurant, the waiter took them to their seats and took their orders, coming back shortly after with the drink orders which was some red wine for both of them. When they had their food brought to them around 20 minutes later, they ate their food while talking about anything they could think of. There was never a dull moment with Y/N and Lando’s conversations.

After eating and having paid the bill. Lando was about to put the plan into motion.

“I’m just gonna head to the bathroom before we leave gorgeous. Won’t be long.” She nodded at Lando, what she didn’t realise was Lando was actually leaving through the back entrance of the restaurant to get to the beach across from the restaurant without Y/N realising.

Shortly after, the waiter came over to Y/N and held his arm out for her to take.

“If you’d like to close your eyes and follow me miss.” he requested. She skeptically complied and took his arm as she closed her eyes, and he took her across to the beach where Lando was waiting by the ocean.

Once she was in front of Lando, he silently thanked the waiter and he left and went back to the restaurant. Lando grabbed Y/N’s hands in his and she took that as a sign to open her eyes and her and Lando were the only ones on the beach and the only sounds was the water crashing onto the sand. Lando began to speak.

“Y/N, from the moment I made it home after our first date when we were 19, I knew you were the one. You’ve been with me through the ups and downs of not only my life, but my entire career and I could not thank you enough. You experienced my first podium with me and my first win and every other milestone in my career and I’ll forever be grateful to have you by my side for everything. My mum always told me as a kid that when I meet the one, I’d feel it. You’re the one Y/N. You’re my person.” Lando announced. Y/N’s hand flew over her mouth as Lando got down onto one knee and pulled out a red velvet box, opening the box to reveal the most stunning diamond ring, tears were welling in both of the adults’ eyes.

“Y/N M/N/ L/N, will you make the happiest man ever and marry me?” He spoke with a hint of emotion in his voice. She vigorously nodded her head, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Yes Lando! Of course I’ll marry you” she replied. He grinned up at her and placed the ring on her left ring finger as he stood back up, hearing distant claps from people passing by and sat outside the restaurant who had witnessed the proposal. He then cupped her cheeks and pulled her into a passionate kiss full of love. The newly engaged couple pulled out of the kiss and smiled at each other, eyes filled with just as much love as the day they met.

“I love you so much my darling girl. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” He grinned ear to ear at his now fiancée.

“I love you too my love. I can’t wait to be married to you and spend the rest of our lives together.” She replied, smiling back at her fiancé.

They made their way up the beach, walking along the shore in a comfortable silence. Y/N was first to break the silence.

“Oh my god I just realised I can now put my Pinterest board to use!” She exclaimed in excitement, clapping her hands together with a beaming smile on her face. Lando let out a laugh at her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and Y/N wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I knew you’d say that you muppet” Lando joked. She smiled softly up at him.

“We’re both muppets but we’re each other's muppets.” She corrected the driver. He just smiled at his girl.

“That we are beautiful, that we are.” He softly chuckled as they continued to walk down the beach.

Once they got home from Mykonos early the next morning, Y/N and Lando had announced the proposal on social media and rang their families, who were all very happy and excited for the couple.

y/user

Liked by: landonorris, maxfewtrell, pietra.pilao, mclaren and others

y/user: Mykonos with my favourite human, swipe to the end for a surprise👀 (hint: he’s now completely off the market ladies🤭)

tagged: landonorris

comments:

landonorris: had the best time with you beautiful, love you forever🤍

liked by creator❤️

↪️ y/user: right back at you my love. Love you more❤️

pietra.pilao: congratulations you two!! So happy! Love you both🫶🏻

liked by: landonorris, y/user

↪️ y/user: thank you p! We love you too🫶🏻

mclaren: congratulations to you both!🧡

liked by: landonorris, y/user

lilyzneimer: omg!! Congrats you guys🤍(I better be your bridesmaid y/n/n😉😂)

liked by: landonorris, y/user, oscarpiastri

↪️ y/user: thank you lils! You already know you’re my bridesmaid babe!😉😘

liked by lilyzneimer

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landonorris

Liked by: mclaren, y/user, oscarpiastri and others

landonorris: Lando Norriz who?😏 here’s to forever with you my darling girl I can’t wait for you to be Mrs Norris🥂I love you endlessly🤍

tagged: y/user

comments:

y/user: I love you my boy🤍can’t wait to be mrs Norris🤍 (and to use my Pinterest board😝)

liked by creator❤️

↪️ landonorris: 😭😭😭 I do love you baby😂❤️

oscarpiastri: congrats mate!👏🏻Love you both!🧡 (Y/N and Lily have already been messaging non-stop about dresses😭)

liked by: y/user, landonorris, lilyzneimer

↪️ landonorris: thanks osc!🧡 and trust me mate, I know😭

↪️ y/user: watch it you pair, lily will be just as bad when you finally grow a pair and propose osc😌😘

↪️ lilyzneimer: yes I will😉😘

↪️ oscarpiastri: 👀

maxfewtrell: congrats you pair! Lots of love❤️

liked by: y/user, landonorris

↪️ landonorris: cheers mate we love you too❤️

user3: omg my parents!!😭🫶🏻also trust Lando to wear a jumper in Mykonos😭

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🏷️: @allywthsr @idathereader @moonlight-girls-posts @saturnbloom77 @scar-005 @barcelonaloverf1life @shellybee456 @meandjoemama @wellwellwellsposts @charli123456789 @timmy-wife1 @m4rt10ne @tellybearryyyy @hc-dutch @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @neo-teenkidz @landosgirl97 @promenadewithme

If there’s a line through your name, it wouldn’t let me tag you😭

608 notes · View notes

habken · 3 days

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/busts down your door WHAT ALL HAVE I MISSED IN BNHA?????? I just saw your comic and I’m so confused

okay so bakugou got got right we all know that, shigaraki fucked up his arm, bakugou said “oh I know what I gotta do” and did a good attack on shiggy but his heart exploded </3 and he died but edgshot said “nuh uh” and used his body to stitch it back up and then deku was late to the party and didnt even have time to be bummed out about bakugou’s corpse cause he has to fight shigaraki and then somewhere else afo does stuff blah blah blah and snatches hawks quirk (rip) and then takes off to join shigafo in that fight but all might says “not on my watch” and intercepts him and they duke it out and all this time afo is getting younger cause he used something made from eris quirk so he could keep duking it out with endeavour and that gang so he’s like a teen fighting poor old man all might who used all his savings to by himself a mech suit but it’s not going so hot for him and stain shows up to take on afo with all might but afo still wins and is about to finish off all might when bakugou starts up his own heart with his explosive sweat and makes really fruity eye contact with deku and with the power of friendship deku pauses his fight with shigafo to launch bakugou towards afo and bakugou saved all might and goes “dawg who’s this kid I’m about to beat the shit out of” and all might says “that’s afo” and bakugou goes to beat the shit out of toddler afo and succeeds because afo finally benjamin buttons out of existence but the whole balugou’s arm looks like seconds away from falling off, then after a long day of fighting bakugou takes a well deserved nap and we go back to deku v shigafo and it’s not going well for deku he’s trying to break through to tenko but he’s not getting anywear and then shigaraki steals danger sense and it gets even worse but second user goes “wait ! What if we attack him with psychic damage, give shigaraki ofa and we’ll beat the shit out of his mind so you can do your thing” amd deku is very sad but agrees and then after he goes punches all of the ofa vestiges into shigaraki they end up in his mind palace and little deku holds little tenko hand even though it’s disintegrating his own and this is where we think “wow he truly won with the power of friendship” but no !! He did not ! The afo vestige that loves in shigaraki’s mind comes out and evil laughs and says “you idiot I’ve been behind all the awful missrable things that happened your whole life ! I convinced your dad to have you, I took your og quirk away and gave you half of an ability that should have let you destroy and recreate but only gave you the destructive part because I am evil and you are too because I made you that way” and shigaraki goes :0 ?!1?;& and dissolves because afo cast vicious mockery and got a nat20 dealing double damage. We then exit shigaraki’s mind and deku has no arms !! But behind him avengers endgame style, heroes amass and aizawa steps out of the portal and goes “damn sorry midoriya if only I’d come like a minute earlier now you’re armless </3” but ! He tosses deku eri’s horn because eri havked it off herself to give to deku to save him and deku’s arms start growing back :D at the same time, afo has fully taken over shigaraki’s body and i like “haha tomura is no more it’s just me now” but he’s super bummed out because his vestige brother is gone as well and he’s like “damn what even is the reason for doing anything anymore :// I guess I’ll still kick ur ass or whatever but I’m kinda apathetic about taking over the world now” but while deku gave away ofa he still has some of the embers and with the power of froendship once more, he dodges afo’s attacks and punches him super duper hard, and we see shigaraki again :D and yoichi :00 and yoichi says sone shit to afo and shigaraki turns to deku like “this was truly our hero academia :) tell spinner I love him” and deku says “sure dawg” and they fist bump and stuff

tldr: deku gave up ofa to save shigaraki and bakugou’s arm is super super messed up which is very fun

#ask #bnha #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #long post

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oddinary4bts · 2 days

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: the power outage is still power outing, curses, Jungkook being Jungkook, mentions of being really drunk and throwing up, explicit content: they talk about what happened in ch 3, teasing, some Mario Kart (yes, it has to be in the explicit content section lmao), hickeys, brat!reader, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, degradation (he calls her a slut/pretty little slut), consent king Jeon Jungkook, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, talks about having raw sex, protected sex, praise

☆word count: 9.5k

☆a/n: new chapterrrrrrr! Enjoy reading everyone <3 there's a tiny bit of angst if you squint your eyes really hard, but the real angst will hit much later on. Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, February 15th

You wake up slowly, with the rising sun. Your room is dark, cold, yet you’re snuggled close to Jungkook, whose body heat has been keeping you warm all night. He’s still asleep, mouth slightly parted, and you watch him for a few seconds before the events of last night come back to your mind, and you have to shut your eyes to try to forget.

It’s hard. His arm is still draped over you, and it twitches in his sleep. You try to push him away, but he wraps his arm around you tighter, nuzzling his face in your neck. It does something to you that you entirely can’t deal with, and you shut your eyes even harder, trying to ignore the way your heart is acting up in your chest.

You breathe in, the cold air taming the burning inside of you. You exhale slowly, and to your surprise, your heart finally decides to start calming down. You keep breathing deeply for a while, and you reckon it might have worked better than you expected because, next thing you know, you wake up with a start.

Jungkook is sitting next to you, and he offers you a lopsided grin as you meet his gaze, heart once again beating wildly.

“Morning, peach,” he greets you, voice gravelly with sleep.

You force yourself to sit up, and you stretch a yawn away. “Morning.”

“Slept well?”

There’s a teasing glint in his eyes, mischief laced with his words. You know you shouldn’t be surprised. Know Jungkook is probably going to turn you into a blushing mess even more now. Especially as he smirks, head cocking to the side while he awaits your answer.

“Yeah,” you answer, and you look towards the window as his eyes bore into your profile. You take a deep breath, another yawn moving through you before you’re able to look at him again. “Did you?”

“Better than I thought I would,” he admits, and he stretches before lying back down, pulling the covers to his face. It’s adorable, in a way Jeon Jungkook should never be, and you force yourself to not let it get to your mind as he continues, “I usually sleep like shit when I sleep with someone.”

You purse your lips, refusing to give meaning to his words as you say, “Maybe last night helped.”

The lopsided smile is back, and he nods once, sighing in content. “We should lose power more often.”

In the hopes that power would come back during the night, you plugged in your phone before going to sleep. You reach for it on the night table, and even though your room is still freezing, you’re still taken aback that the power is still out.

“Well, we still don’t have any,” you inform him.

He glances at you. “Then we should go back to sleep.”

At that, you snort, shaking your head. Even though your battery is low, you still go to your emails, trying to see if you received anything from your professor.

What you find is a college-wide email informing the students that all college activities are cancelled today and through the weekend, to start again on Monday. Your gaze widens before you glance at Jungkook.

“Power is still out in college, too,” you tell him. “So, no class.”

Jungkook’s smile only grows wider, and he opens his arms for you to come cuddle again. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Your heart is warm. A hearth, in which a small fire has started to burn. It’s soft, cozy, and you worry at your bottom lip as you survey Jungkook. As you try to figure out when you crossed the line, and if it’s too late to pull back.

You figure you can decide later when the power is back on and this bubble outside of time will have burst, and you lie back next to him. His arms, still wide open, look far too inviting, and it takes you about five seconds before you’re scooching into his embrace.

He sighs in content. “You know,” he lets out. “If Tae learns, I’m a dead man.”

Reality crashes harder than a tsunami on a beach, and you try to pull away. Jungkook holds onto you, even when you push on his chest.

“I was just going to say,” he adds so you’d stop pushing him, “that we should keep this between us.”

You nod against him as you finally stop trying to pull away. “Yes, I agree.”

“Good.”

And Tae doesn’t cross your mind for the rest of the morning. Eventually, you and Jungkook decide to move out of the safe comfort of the covers, needing to eat something before you die, as Jungkook jokes. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen before you figure your room is far warmer than the rest of the apartment. You retreat with fruits, while Jungkook grabs a bowl of the food he cooked yesterday.

Watching him eat it cold makes you gag, so you turn away from him to focus on eating your apple and blueberries.

“What?” he says, and he sounds like his mouth is full.

“How can you even be eating that?”

There are a few seconds of silence, while he clearly swallows his bite. “What’s wrong with it?”

You scrunch up your nose in disgust, glancing at him over your shoulder. His gaze is narrowed, eyebrows bunched together over his eyes as he fakes offence, or perhaps suspicion. It makes you snort, and you look away from him before you speak again.

“It’s cold.”

“Wow, is it?” he teases. “Never would have noticed.”

You roll your eyes, forcing your laugh down because Jeon Jungkook shouldn’t be making you laugh anyway. Silence replaces the conversation, and you finish eating in peace, watching the world outside the window.

It looks straight out of a fairy tale. The trees are covered in a thick coat of ice, and they glisten in the morning light as if they are made of glass. It’s beautiful, in an unforgiving way, and you find peace in their contemplation.

Peace in this comfortable silence with Jungkook.

By the time you’re done eating, Jungkook has wolfed down the bowl he made for himself, and you both return to the kitchen to put away the dishes you’d used. Jungkook leans against the counter while you rinse them, arms folded on his chest.

“What should we do today?” he asks.

You cock an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Unless you want to be alone.”

Your eyes dart to him quickly, before returning to the safety of the spot where the jet of water hits the bowl you’re holding. “What do you want to do?”

“We could go for a car ride,” he suggests. “To charge up our phones.”

“Don’t you think the roads are a little too dangerous right now?”

He plays with his piercing as he frowns slightly, clearly not having thought about this. “Right.” You watch as the cogs work in his brain, and you can’t help the smile that slowly grows on your lips when his features light up. “We can just stay parked somewhere.”

“We’d still have to get there.”

He furrows his brows. “I’m sure they’ve put salt on the streets, we should be okay.”

What he doesn’t know is that you don’t need convincing. You’ve already decided you’d go, mostly because you do need to charge your phone. Not because you really need it right now, but just because the thought of not having it with you feels strange.

“We’re going?” Jungkook presses as you remain silent.

He must be immune to the teasing glint you know for a fact has taken over your eyes. You sigh, before nodding once. “Sure.”

He beams. “Let’s go!”

His enthusiasm makes you laugh, and you turn the tap off before turning to watch him as he’s leaving the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we brush our teeth and freshen up first?”

He stops in his tracks. “Right.” He turns, flashing you a grin that reveals the same dimples you noticed yesterday. “Good luck with taking a shower, though.”

You snort. “Let’s just brush our teeth.”

Which is what you do, Jungkook pushing you with his hips as you stand next to him. You flip him off, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at you.

It stabs right through your heart, and you look away, searching for salvation on the tiles of the floor. It does nothing – reality is just a heartbeat away, and no matter how easy it is with Jungkook right now, you’re very aware that the moment the world returns to normalcy, your relationship with him will too.

And you still don’t understand where this is coming from. Where this easy complicity between you comes from, and why you’ve never really noticed before. Was it because of Taehyung?

It’s a question you ask yourself for the next hour, as you sit in Jungkook’s car listening to music and belting out tunes even though you’re not half the singer that he is. He doesn’t mention it, only laughs along with you before asking you stupid questions about your past, about Taehyung when you grew up and why you decided to move in with them.

He clearly doesn’t like you saying that it was just because it was convenient. It’s clear as spring water, and he pouts slightly as he says, “Not even for me?”

You punch him in the shoulder. “I didn’t know you when I moved in.”

“But now you do,” he teases, smirk moving on his lips.

There’s more meaning to his words than it seems, and you feel blush creeping on your cheeks. “Do I?”

“I’d say watching me jerk off and come is a good way to get to know me, no?”

“Jungkook!��

He laughs like a child as you flush furiously purple, trying to ignore how, as a matter of fact, his words are actually turning you on. You don’t want to think about last night, just want to focus on the now, on this unexpected friendship.

Jungkook has other plans for you, because he says, “Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

“You’re blushing.”

If possible, your glare intensifies. “Shut the fuck up.”

He dissolves in a fit of giggles that makes your heart skip a beat, and you roll your eyes before glancing at your phone.

“Mine’s full now,” you mutter.

For a reason you don’t quite understand, Jungkook has two phone cords in his car, both of them working to charge. He glances at his phone, shaking his head.

“You’re going to be stuck with me for longer, peach,” he tells you mischievously. “Mine’s only on 75%.”

“Do you really need it full?”

He offers you an innocent smile. “Definitely.”

Your phone buzzes, and you both glance towards it. You’ve received a text from Ria, in the group chat you share with the whole friend group. She’s asking how everyone’s surviving, and if anyone needs to crash at the dorm, which for some reason, is the only place on campus that still has power.

You hesitate for half a heartbeat before turning your phone off.

*****

Today was fun, albeit cold. After charging your phones in Jungkook’s car, you took a long walk through campus, just talking about everything and nothing as if you’d always been close.

As if he didn’t finger you with his cum last night.

Whenever the thought resurfaces, it makes you startle, and Jungkook smirks. Because he knows – obviously he does.

He knows the effect he has on you. You think he sees how you tense whenever his hand touches yours, whenever he stands just a little too close. And maybe that’s why you avoided going home for a long time, because you’re afraid that being stuck between four walls with him again will make you go insane.

Alas, when you both grow hungry sometime in the afternoon, you can’t force him to stay out, so you follow him home, ignoring the weight of your turned-off phone in your pocket.

Fortunately enough, on all the journey walking around campus, you didn’t run into anyone from your friend group. Somehow, you were afraid that you would – what would they think if they saw you hanging out with Jungkook?

More importantly, what would Hoseok think? Maybe it makes you an asshole, but in the moment, you don’t really care. You are entirely focused on Jungkook, mostly because it’s easy to be entirely focused on him. As if he’s the full moon in a summer night sky – he makes all the stars hard to see, as he shines too bright for their glow to be noticeable.

You sigh as you’re settled in the kitchen, door closed as Jungkook reheats something on the stove. It’s not extremely cold in the apartment, but keeping the door shut does help with keeping the kitchen warm enough to be bearable with only a thick sweater on.

You think Jungkook is crazy. He’s only wearing a beige and indigo athletic Nike vest, and he’s left it unzipped because he claimed he was getting too warm. Underneath, a white t-shirt rests loosely around his waist, and you’ve been doing your best to forget just how dainty his waist is, under all the clothes.

“See, we’re going to build up your heat tolerance,” he says over his shoulder, and he flashes you a grin before focusing on what he’s reheating again.

“Good luck with that,” you answer, chuckling. “I’ve tried before, and nothing works.”

“You and Tae really are the worst at that,” Jungkook teases, and you roll your eyes even if he can’t see.

Indeed, he’s turned his head towards the window, and he watches the sun as it gets lower in the sky, nearing the horizon. You’re afraid of when it’ll be gone under; you’re afraid it’ll elicit sinful activities between you and Jungkook again.

Afraid, yet with a certain kind of apprehension to it. Perhaps because it’s not fear of him, but rather fear of yourself.

It’s hard to remember that he’s Taehyung’s best friend when you’re alone with him like this.

Especially when he sets a steaming bowl of food in front of you, a wicked smile on his lips as he forces you to eat. As you choke on it, the heat too much to handle for you. Jungkook laughs out loud before handing you a glass of ice-cold water.

It barely helps, and the heat remains for a while as you eat, and even more so as you’re done, watching Jungkook eating a second portion as if he hasn’t eaten the first one in record time. You’re playing music on your phone, your usual study playlist – lo-fi beats – and Jungkook seems to like it. He’s been nodding his head to the music as he devoured his bowl.

When he finishes eating, sitting back in his chair as he rests a hand on his stomach, he once again offers you the wide grin. The sun is setting now – the whole kitchen is turning to gold, and you hate that the glow makes him look ethereal, like he’s a piece of heaven fallen to Earth for you to enjoy.

“Do you want to wash yourself?” Jungkook asks out of the blue. You cock an eyebrow in question, but before you’ve had a chance to say anything, he adds, “We could warm some water on the stove and use that to wash ourselves.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“Come on, peach,” he lets out, and he chuckles as he shakes his head, a little condescendingly. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

Stupid wouldn’t be the word that you’d use. Arrogant, maybe. Too full of himself, for sure. But you don’t think that saying so would be a good idea, so you only shrug.

“Aren’t you?”

He bursts out laughing, that goofy smile that makes your heart skip beats in your chest as if you’re twelve and it’s the first time you’re speaking to a guy. “I’m not, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be in college if I was.”

“Lots of stupid people are in college,” you point out mischievously.

He tuts. “I’d thought by now you’d know I’m not a lot of people, peach.” He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes drop to your lips. “You get fingered by a lot of guys like that?”

You turn to fire. “Excuse me?”

And the goofy smile returns, as if he didn’t just say the crudest sentence in the world. “Just teasing you.”

You narrow your eyes but don’t find any retort to that. It makes Jungkook’s grin widen, and then he gets up to bring your bowl and his to the sink. As he’s rinsing them, he offers you a look.

“Should I reheat some water then?” he asks, the teasing tone gone.

You try a look towards him, but standing there, the sun forms too much of an aura around him, so you can barely see him even if you squint your eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“One pot for you and one for me, then!”

His statement makes you laugh, and you get up to actually help him get the pots on the stove. You turn the gas on, using the lighter so that the flames catch, and soon the water is heating up, and the prospect of freshening up brings a smile to your lips.

You notice Jungkook looking at it, features turning somber. And he’s quick to look away. Quick to focus on where the sun dipped under the horizon, watching the clouds turning to gold above.

“Have you spoken to Tae today?” he asks, and the reminder of your brother makes you clench your jaw, ever so slightly.

“No,” you admit. You think he’ll say more, but he remains silent. So you take it upon yourself to make conversation, and you ask, “Have you?”

He shrugs. “Just told him the power is still out.”

“Mmh.”

The silence is deafening then – you can barely hear it over the clamour in your thoughts. And you don’t know where it’s coming from, only that the more the silence stretches, the more you grow unsteady on your feet.

“How did you guys meet?” you ask, voice sounding a little strained.

Jungkook shoots you a look. “He didn’t tell you?”

You purse your lips and shake your head no, which earns you a chuckle from him. It makes you grow suspicious, and you narrow your gaze. “What?”

“Nothing.” He pauses, observes your features for a moment with those big doe eyes of his before he says, “We met Frosh week.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“He was pissed out drunk in a bush,” Jungkook admits, and his eyes fog up with the memories as he looks away from you. “Jimin is the one that found him first. And mind you, I only knew Jimin for a few days then, since we were dorm roommates.”

But you know how easy friendship forms in that Frosh week. You and Nabi are a good example of it after all.

“We couldn’t find anyone who knew him, so we brought him back to the dorm. He threw up in Jimin’s bed, and the next day he suggested grabbing breakfast together, as a thank you for taking care of him.”

Jungkook smiles fondly, and his gaze connects with yours. “And the rest is history.”

It sure is. You’re not really sure where you come into this story – if you should come into it at all. Because Jungkook and Taehyung really are close – what would Taehyung say if he knew what Jungkook and you did?

It’s a scary thought, one that you’ve remedied with Jungkook already. You just have to not tell Taehyung, simple as that.

“I think the water is ready,” Jungkook admits, and he dips his fingers in one of the pots. He nods, before saying, “You can grab yours, and go to the bathroom. I’ll clean up in my room.”

“Don’t you need soap?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You know soap can be carried outside of a bathroom? Like, it’s not confined-“

His sentence dies as you punch him in the chest, and he starts laughing as you curse him under your breath, grabbing the pot.

“Open the door for me,” you grumble as you walk towards it.

“Please?”

You look up to the water-stained ceiling. “Are you for real?”

“Yes.”

You debate silently, though you know that you’ll cave in.

You reckon you’ll always cave in where Jungkook is concerned.

“Can you please open the door for me?” you ask, and you scold yourself internally for not being able to stand your ground.

“Of course, peach,” he says, grinning widely. “I can actually carry that to the bathroom for you, I need to grab soap and a towel anyway.”

He walks towards you, gently taking the pot out of your hands, so you end up opening the door for him, begrudgingly following him to the bathroom. You follow him in, watching him as he carefully puts the pot down in the sink.

“Here you go,” he says as he shoots you a look over his shoulder.

You can’t help but look away as your gazes connect, before mumbling, “Thank you.”

“You could at least sound happy about it,” he teases. You roll your eyes, though a smile teases the corners of your lips. Jungkook taps your cheek, and you bristle, stepping away from him.

If he cares he doesn’t show it, instead moving to grab a washcloth and his shower gel.

Are you disappointed to see him go? Maybe. But you don’t let it show, instead shutting the door behind him, making sure to lock it before you strip out of your clothes to wash up.

It’s freezing, and you hate every second of it, so you make it quick, washing the most strategic and important body parts. When you’re done, you move to grab your clean clothes from the…

You never grabbed clean clothes, did you?

You curse under your breath, mostly cursing Jungkook for making you so stupid around him. You hate it - you feel like you lose most of your brain cells when he’s around. But you can’t help it, and you tightly wrap yourself in a towel as you pray to the God above, if there’s one, to not make you run into Jungkook as you walk back to your room.

Of course, Jungkook opens the door to his room the second you are in front of it. You startle, freezing like a deer in headlights, and Jungkook’s gaze dips to your legs.

You hate the smirk growing on his lips the second it appears.

“What’s got you walking around naked in this temperature?”

Though you reckon his gaze warms you up in an instant, you reply, “Fuck off, I just forgot to get clean clothes.”

He leans against his doorframe, slipping his hands in the pocket of his grey sweatpants. He looks the perfect picture of male insolence, and fuck, it does things to you that it shouldn’t.

Like, make you remember that he fingered you with his cum yesterday. Thinking about it, it was a really stupid thing to do, but you hadn’t been able to resist…

And from the way he’s eyeing you right now, you highly doubt you’ll be able to resist him again. You realize then that the apartment is darkening, that soon you’ll have to light up the candles…

You’re sinking in quicksands, aren’t you?

“How unfortunate,” Jungkook comments, always so arrogant.

“I said it already, but do really fuck off, JK,” you reply.

He tilts his head to the side - the predator, and you, its next meal. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday.”

You blush, bright scarlet taking over your features, and you roll your eyes, choosing to ignore his comment as you finish walking to your room.

“That’s what I thought,” he says behind you, and you flip him off over your shoulder, which makes him laugh that boyish laugh that does things to you.

You lean against the bedroom door once you get in, heart beating out of your chest, cursing power for going out, and cursing your brother for choosing to do a semester abroad.

It’s useless - the cursing, that is. Because it won’t change anything, and a small, tiny, minuscule part of you doesn’t want it to… so you curse yourself too for good measure.

By the time you finally emerge from your bedroom, the sun has fully set, and you’ve been using your phone as a flashlight. Jungkook is sitting in the living room, playing on his Switch, which apparently still has battery, and he glances at you as you approach.

“Want to play a game?” he asks, offering you a small smile.

His features are lit from the screen, and he looks soft, his big eyes slightly crinkling at the corners. You hold in your own smile, instead cocking an eyebrow.

“So that I can beat your ass?” you say.

You watch as fire catches in his gaze, and you think he’s about to burn you to the spot. “Oh, you wanna play this game?” he says, his voice suddenly an octave lower.

A thrilled shiver runs down your spine, and you finish crossing the distance between you and him, sitting next to him. The leather couch is freezing, but you hold your wince in as you motion to the Switch.

“You think you can beat my ass?” he asks.

“I know I can.”

He smirks, leaning back on the couch. He rests his head against the backrest, turning his head towards you. “Oh, peach,” he breathes out. “You’re cute when you try to be sassy.”

You widen your gaze. “Try to be sassy! I’m serious, I’ll beat your ass.”

“In any game?” he asks, and his eyes dip to your lips.

“Mario Kart,” you say, folding your arms on your chest.

You’re wearing a thick sweater, yet it doesn’t stop Jungkook from looking down, and you know exactly what he’s seeing - you, with your legs spread wide open for him like they were yesterday.

“Winner gets head,” he says, and you really think you’re about to catch fire.

“What about Tae?”

You can’t help the question. Because you don’t want to do that to your brother, but you’ve been unable to resist. You know shame and guilt will catch up to you one day - hell, Ria will never let you live it down if she learns what’s already happened.

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t think it’d make any difference after yesterday.”

“So you want me to choke on your dick?”

Night and you and Jeon Jungkook really don’t mix well, do they? Because you want him. You want him so bad right now you think you’re about to go insane, yet you know you shouldn’t.

“Fuck, peach.” He chuckles. “I want to know if you taste as good as you look.”

You wet your lips, and his eyes fall to your mouth, staying there as you say, “Well then, winner gets head,” you murmur, and you think he’s about to say ‘fuck it’ and jump on you.

You really do think he won’t be able to resist, and frankly, you don’t want him to. You feel yourself leaning forward, a moth to the flame, but Jungkook clears his throat, and his eyes shoot to yours.

“Deal.”

Jungkook sets up the game, and since you can’t play multiplayer thanks to the power being out and the TV not functioning, you settle on whoever gets first place first. Which you reckon is stupid - getting first place when you’re playing against the AI isn’t really an impressive feat.

You shiver before Jungkook starts his race, and he pauses the game to glance at you. “Do you want to go to your room?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Too excited to play here?”

He rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “No, you’re freezing, and I figured, since your room is the smallest, if we do like yesterday, we can probably keep it warm. Or at least warmer than here.” His last words are accompanied by a vague motion of his hand encompassing the living room, and you reckon he does have a point.

“Sure then,” you say, nodding once.

You get up from the couch, and Jungkook quickly follows you. He’s so close, looming behind you like he’s the predator about to pounce on its prey, and you shudder with delight, warmth pooling in your lower stomach.

You think he knows. You’re convinced he does, because a few minutes later, when you’re in your room with the candles on, sitting on your bed, he leans against the wall, abandoning his Switch to the side.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s so easy to get into your bed, peach,” he teases, and you startle when one of his large hands lightly grazes your thigh.

You swat it away without an ounce of regret, even though the spot he touched feels like it’s been hit by lightning. “Are you saying I’m easy?”

His mouth falls open and he looks surprised, even maybe a little apologetic. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

The wicked smile you offer him makes him chuckle as he realizes you were teasing him, and he grabs his Switch, his brow creasing a little with the frown that adorns his features from concentrating. It’s cute. You reckon it’s adorable, and you reckon you shouldn’t feel that way about your brother’s best friend, so you push the thought as far away as you can.

It’s not like Jungkook is the kind of guy you should feel endearment for. Because you know he’d only break your heart - he’s not the most popular guy on campus for nothing, after all.

“Ready?” he tells you.

You nod. “Good luck.”

He doesn’t need it. He gets first place, and he puts his Switch down on the bed as you realize what it means.

But you’re not going to give in so easily to him, will you?

“If I get first place, too, then this doesn’t count.”

He fake-glares at you, but he shrugs. “Alright. Let’s see if you can get first place.”

The way he says it is ominous, and you gulp, cheeks flushing with pink as you grab the Switch. As per always, you choose Peach as your character, which obviously earns you a snicker from Jungkook, but you don’t mind.

Maybe because you’re starting to like when he calls you peach.

You easily start the race in the first position, Peach racing and drifting ahead of the AI-controlled characters. Jungkook shifts next to you, attracting your attention, and you almost run into a wall, thankfully recovering quickly.

It doesn’t last long. Because next time he shifts, Jungkook brushes your thigh, and you just know he has a wicked smirk on his lips without having to look at him.

“Stop,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” he purrs, and you nudge him with an elbow. He just laughs, his hand now resting flatly on your thigh. “Got trouble focusing?”

“You’re cheating,” you whine, and you’re hit by a blue shell which puts you back a few positions.

“Am I?” he breathes out.

You sigh as he leans closer to you, and his nose brushes your cheek. Instinctively, you tilt your head to the side, and he chuckles as he pushes your hair off your shoulder, before leaning even closer.

His lips ghost on your neck, and your eyes flutter close, the Switch entirely forgotten in your hands.

“Jungkook…”

His tongue darts out, tasting you, and then he sucks a hickey on your skin. “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice barely over a whisper.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my fingers inside of you,” he says, huskily. “All fucking day.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and you let out a breathy sound that makes him chuckle again. “Just been thinking about how you’d feel on my dick too.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.” He kisses your jaw, and then pulls away, sitting back against the wall. “I think you lost.”

You open your eyes, realizing that you’re still holding the Switch. He’s right – the AIs have finished while Jungkook was teasing you, and you stare at the screen for a few seconds before meeting his gaze.

He looks victorious, happy with himself. You want to wipe the smirk off his lips, so you put down the Switch on the bed, kneeling next to him.

“So you want me to suck your dick now?” you say, voice low, and you drag a hand on his thigh.

His tongue toys with his piercings. “Well, wasn’t that the deal?”

Emboldened, you straddle his lap, and you wrap a hand around his throat for support. You feel him swallow, and you lean closer, watching as the smirk slowly disappears from his lips.

“Was it?”

He gulps. He fucking gulps, and you can’t help but bite your lower lip. Even though the room is cold, you feel warm, a tingly sensation slowly taking over your entire body. His eyes fall to your mouth, and it takes him a few seconds before he says, “Yes.”

You have him right where you want him to be. “Damn, who knew Jeon Jungkook wanted me so bad?”

You lean in, brushing your lips on his, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything, though you can tell that he wants to touch you.

Maybe because you’re perched on his erection.

“Maybe Tae should have left before, mmh?” you continue. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so desperate…”

Jungkook grabs your waist, spinning you around dizzyingly until you’re on the bed and he’s hovering over you. “Enough,” he says, voice rough.

You don’t lose the smirk. “Or what?”

He wets his lips and then leans in. “I’m going to have so much fun wiping that smirk from your lips, peach.”

“Oh, will you now?” you fire back. “Better get into action then.”

One of his hands grabs the side of your head, tightening around your hair, and he forces you to turn your head to the side. He leaves wet kisses down your neck and then moves back up to your jaw.

“If only Tae knew how much of a slut you are,” Jungkook says. “A pretty little slut.” Your smirk wavers as he pushes your legs apart with a knee. “I wonder, are you already soaked for me, mmh?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

He chuckles darkly. “Fucking hell, you really are driving me crazy.”

And even though you shouldn’t, even though Jungkook is your older brother’s best friend, even though you know guilt will eventually catch up to you, you say, “Then act on it, JK. Show me just how crazy I’m making you feel.”

His mouth collides with yours with force, and you immediately reach up, running your hands through his hair. He sucks on your tongue, earning a moan from you, and he grunts as you pull on his hair, the soft strands feeling like silk on your fingers.

He grinds into you, and you feel the powerful length of him rub against you. You know he’ll stretch you wide open, and you want him so bad it almost hurts.

You think you’ve wanted him for months already. Yesterday, you could blame it on the alcohol, on your inhibition being altered, but today… Today you know it’s always been about the tattoos, the piercings, and the shameless flirting.

You’ve been in Jungkook’s orbit ever since September – you were bound to crash into him someday.

Jungkook pulls away to meet your gaze. The weight of his body on yours feels right – better than Hoseok’s ever felt. The thought douses you, and you think Jungkook notices.

You know he does, because he says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your eyes flit around his features for a time – his nose, his mouth, the mole underneath his lips, his left eye, the scar on his cheek. They eventually settle on his lip piercings.

“Are you getting insecure?” you tease. Because it’s all that you know how to do, the only way you can think of pushing the vulnerability away.

His tongue pokes at his cheek, and he presses another searing kiss on your lips. You can’t help but moan softly as he grinds again, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him, your arms circling his neck as well.

When he pulls away next, it’s to rest his forehead against yours. You breathe the same air for a few seconds, until he says, “Consent is hot, peach. Tell me you want it, or I’m stopping now.”

“I want it, JK,” you answer. “I want you to fuck me dumb until my room isn’t cold anymore.”

Jungkook straightens, kneeling between your legs. The candles cast flickering lights on his honey skin, and you watch unblinkingly as he takes off his shirt.

He’s beautiful. You realized that yesterday, though you didn’t see him without the shirt. But he’s truly beautiful, all muscle and delicate waist, and his skin glows golden under the light of the candles. His brown nipples are perked prettily on his chest, and you want to touch him, want to drag your hands over every powerful line of his body.

“Shit, it’s fucking cold,” he says, and he quickly bends down again.

You grab the blankets, pulling them on top of him. Without any trace of hesitation, you rest your hands on his back, and you lightly scratch him with your nails.

“Then we better get you warmed up,” you purr.

You don’t need to say it twice. Jungkook finds your mouth again, and he grunts as you dig your nails in his skin, before releasing the pressure. He then goes down to your jaw, down your neck, and he disappears under the covers, spreading your legs wide open with his large hands.

“Can I take these off?” his muffled voice says from beneath the blankets.

You pull enough on the covers to see his face, big doe eyes awaiting your consent. “Yes.”

He smirks wickedly. “Good.”

He’s quick to rid you of your pants. He leaves your panties on, his large hands caressing your thighs as he settles between your legs. You know he’s going to eat you out, and you think you’ll go insane. But nothing could have prepared you for how much of a tease he is.

Indeed, Jungkook presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, mouth ghosting over where you need him the most, never once giving in to your desires. You’re soaking wet, painfully so by the time you groan, hand flying to his hair as you try to push his head where you want him.

He resists, chuckling darkly. “Growing a little impatient?”

“Eat me out,” you answer breathlessly. “Fuck.”

“Why should I?” He bites the inside of your thigh. “I love watching you squirm under me.”

You whine, yet this time, he licks the wet spot on your panties. Your thighs instinctively close, and he forces them wide open again.

“Don’t move,” he orders.

You try to obey. You really do, but when he pushes your panties to the side and sucks on your clit, your back arches off the bed.

“Jungkook,” you breathe out.

He doesn’t answer, too busy pushing his tongue inside you, parting your folds easily. You moan, and your grip on his hair tightens, though you keep him close. And he doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away. He starts making out with your pussy, squelching sounds coming from between your legs with every swipe of his tongue.

Soon, he gets bored of pushing his tongue in and out of you, and he moves back to your clit, circling it unforgivingly. He’s good, that much you’ll admit, and when he circles your entrance with one long finger, you moan again.

“You want it?” he asks, pulling away just long enough to voice the words.

He’s right back on your clit a fraction of a second later, and he sucks on it, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue.

You feel the orgasm. It’s still far, but it’s on the horizon of your conscience, and you know it’ll hit good once it does. So you say, “Please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t disappoint. He pushes his finger in, arches it to rub that sweet spot inside of you in time with the motions of his tongue on your clit. You grind in his face by reflex, and he grunts against you as you do so, resting his tongue flat on your clit so that you can pleasure yourself on his face.

He must know it’s not enough. Because after a few seconds of it, he starts moving his face from side to side, and the orgasm looms closer, aiming for you at the speed of light.

It hits when Jungkook pushes a second finger in, stretching you, and your walls clench hard against his digits, though he keeps on pushing them in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He sucks on your clit as you come, and you think you’ve moaned his name at least twice by the time he finally pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Shit, peach,” he says, and you watch him through the ecstasy blurring your gaze. “You taste so fucking good.”

As if he wants to show you, he captures your mouth in a kiss. You taste yourself, but you’re too fucked out to be able to agree or disagree with him. All you can do is moan in his mouth, and he swallows it with a swipe of his tongue.

And as he keeps kissing you, keeps branding himself in your mouth, you run your hand on his body, blood boiling from the sheer strength that you know he has. You reach for the band of his sweatpants, going lower to wrap your hand around his clothed length.

He’s big and heavy in your hand.

Mostly, he’s not wearing any underwear. Or if he is, they are extremely loose, because you’re able to wrap your fingers around him even through the sweatpants. He bucks his hips, and you tighten your hold.

“Why don’t you put that pretty hand under the clothes, mmh?” he teases against your jaw, before he goes to nibbling on your ear. “I’ve been wanting to feel it wrapped around my cock.”

You don’t hesitate. You move back up to the band of his sweatpants, and you quickly push your hand in. You sigh in delight as you find he’s not wearing any underwear, fingers grazing over the velvety softness of his length. He hisses but doesn’t say anything as you test the waters, slowly grabbing his dick.

You lightly stroke him, and he bucks his hips, trying to fuck your hand.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” you tease him, and he bites at your jaw.

“I’ve been wanting you for a really long time, peach.”

His words make your heart pause in your chest. Because you feel like there’s a deeper meaning, like it isn’t just shameless flirting in the heat of the action. It reminds you of the kiss yesterday, of the way he’d pulled you on his lap with no other intention than to kiss you.

And it makes you tighten your grip on his dick, and he grunts as you start jerking him off faster. But it’s awkward and clumsy with the sweatpants on, so you pull your hand out after a few seconds.

“Take these off,” you say, and he immediately kneels to obey, taking off his sweatpants quickly before resuming his position between your legs.

You’re not sure you were prepared for the sight of Jeon Jungkook fully naked in your bed. Though goosebumps prick at his skin from the cold, he still looks devilish, like he’s about to drag you to hell. His dick stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin.

He’s big. And not just his dick. Jungkook works out a lot, spends hours every week at the gym, and it truly shows in every angle of him. He looks sculpted in marble, a perfect body that accentuates the beauty of his features, that contradicts the innocence of his big eyes.

Or maybe what truly contradicts it is the way he fists his cock, jerking off quickly as he eyes you. As he stares you down, and you feel ready to go all over again just from the sight of it.

“You have condoms?” he asks, and he grunts as he keeps jerking himself off.

You have half a thought to tell him to keep going, to come all over you, but you want it too much to resist. So you motion to your night table, saying, “Bottom drawer.”

He nods appreciatively, letting go of his cock so that he can bend and rummage through the drawer until he finds the condoms. He winces as he straightens, a tinfoil package in hand.

“Pretty sure that’s going to be too tight for me.”

You roll your eyes. “Condoms stretch, you know that?”

“Not enough,” he says, flicking your nose teasingly. “But I don’t think we should go raw, so that’ll do.”

Yet, the thought of going raw with him… You grab a hold of his wrist before he’s able to start unrolling the condom on his dick, and he cocks an eyebrow as he meets your gaze.

“Are you clean?”

You see him gulp. Indeed, his throat bobs, and he tilts his head to the side. “Got tested last week,” he admits. “But I really don’t think we should go raw.”

“I’m clean.”

“You’ve been fucking that other guy,” Jungkook says.

“We always wear protection.”

Jungkook purses his lips, taking a deep breath. “Honestly peach, I think I wouldn’t last a minute if I fucked you raw right now. Let me put the condom on.”

He says it in a stern way that makes you let go of his wrist. You feel bad, wondering if you were pushing a boundary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem like he notices. Indeed, he busies himself with putting the condom on, rolling it down his dick, and he winces in pain once it’s all the way down.

“That shit’s fucking tight,” he comments, and then he positions himself between your legs again. His large hands find your thighs, and he caresses up and down once before meeting your gaze. “Are you okay?” he asks, with no lust or desire or anything other than concern for you.

Because of course, he’d notice that you’re feeling bad.

“Sorry if I was insisting…” you say, vaguely motioning to his dick.

He looks down at himself. “About the condom?” He waits for you to nod your head before he says anything else. “Peach, don’t worry about it. I’m seriously close right now, which is really fucking weird, and I just want to be able to make you feel good, m’kay?” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You melt, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. He chuckles, mumbling against your lips, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but you really turn me on.”

You think you know what it is. You don’t think it’s about you, or about him. It’s rather about the feeling of doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Of doing something forbidden, because he’s Taehyung’s friend, and you’re Taehyung’s younger sister.

But you don’t say it. Instead, you whisper, “Then fuck me good, Jungkook.”

He lets out a breathy sound as he leans his forehead against yours. There’s something so intimate about the gesture that you feel your heart soaring in your chest, and then he pushes your ruined panties to the side again so that he can nudge your entrance with his dick.

“I will,” he promises, and then he pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck. “Let me know if it hurts.”

Unforgivingly, Jungkook slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, and he quickly captures your lips in a kiss as he stays right there, deep inside of you, unmoving so that you can adjust around him. And you know you have a lot of adjusting to do – he’s so large it burns, yet the pain feels good. Far too good, and you easily understand how Jungkook got the reputation that he has.

When Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, he slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your walls suck him in, and he grunts, leaning his forehead against yours once more.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel so fucking good.”

Before you can reply, Jungkook establishes a steady rhythm. Nothing too crazy, but the drag of his dick on your walls is making you see stars, and you softly moan as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

“Moan for me, peach,” he breathlessly says. “I want to hear you fucking screaming my name.”

And then everything changes. Jungkook kneels between your thighs, pulls your legs against his chest, and starts pounding into you, bending down just enough to hit the sweetest spot inside of you. The change of rhythm and position makes you cry out, and your walls clench around him.

He echoes your cry with a moan of his own, something breathless that makes you want to look at him, to stay with him like this forever. So you open your eyes, and the sight of him is nearly enough to make you climax right then and there.

Yet you don’t. You don’t come as you just watch him, watch the way he’s frowning, teeth digging in his lower lip once in a while. Beads of sweat quickly appear on his temples, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t falter, not even once, as he fucks you, and you feel that familiar knot forming in your lower stomach.

You still don’t come. You keep it in – you don’t know why. You just enjoy the moment, refusing to rush towards its ending. Instead, when Jungkook pushes your legs open so that he can bend down and kiss you again, you welcome him in. You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close, and you scratch at his back with one hand, the other getting lost in his hair.

He grunts in your mouth, and he finally switches the rhythm, aiming for harder yet slower. It makes him reach new depths, and you can’t help but moan loudly as he keeps going, keeps ramming into you.

For the first time ever since you moved here, your bed slams into the wall from the force of Jungkook’s thrusts. It’s hot, especially as he moves to your neck, sucking hard.

“Best fucking pussy,” he says in your ear. “Fuck.”

And then he straightens again, forcing you to let go of him, before pulling out. You whine at the sudden loss of sensation, but he just looks down at your pussy, licking his lips at the sight.

“You’re so fucking creamy and wet,” he tells you. “Look at my cock.”

You obey, looking down to where your bodies almost meet. His dick is indeed covered with your juices, and Jungkook gently pushes it between your folds, collecting even more juice. It’s sinful, inherently so, and you moan lightly as he rubs his dick on your clit.

“Think you’ll be able to come for me again?” he asks.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes in and out quickly, and he smirks wickedly as you nod, once.

“Make me come,” you say, finding some defiance in you again. “You think you’ll be able to do that for me?”

His gaze widens, and then he chuckles. “Fuck peach.” He chuckles again, slightly shaking his head. “I’m going to get addicted to this fucking pussy of yours.”

You whine as he moves from between your legs, lying down on his back. You shoot him a look, and he motions at his body as if in invitation. It makes you laugh, yet you still climb on top of him, grinding on his dick.

His eyes go to your chest, and he gently grabs the hem of your shirt. Even though it’s still cold in your room – though warmer than before – you quickly take off your shirt, wincing as the cold air hits you head on.

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises, and his hands reach up to push your breasts together. “So fucking pretty.”

You blush slightly under the praise, and you’re about to sink on his dick when he stops you. Your eyes go wide, and he motions to your panties.

“Take these off too. I want to see all of you.”

He says it with so much reverence for you that you can’t say no. You can only obey, sitting next to him just long enough so that you can remove the panties. They are soaked, and you throw them towards the dirty clothes hamper before climbing back on top of Jungkook.

Your gazes meet, and there’s a moment of you watching each other. You wish you could read his gaze, wish you could know what it means when he grabs your wrists to pull you down. Your eyes never disconnect from his, not even as one of his hands goes between your bodies so that he can align his dick with your entrance.

And then he pushes up, pushes in. As if you forgot just how big he is, you moan, eyes fluttering shut on instinct. Jungkook grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist, before saying, “Look at me.”

You do. You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he starts jackhammering into you, the new angle so good you feel like you’re slowly slipping out of your body, soaring towards the sky outside. It’s so good all you can think about is him, his body, the way that he holds you so gently yet fucks you so rough. You rest one hand on the side of his face as he keeps fucking you, and when you can’t resist anymore, you hide your face in his neck.

“You’re such a good girl,” Jungkook says. “You take me so fucking well.” He grunts loudly, slamming to the hilt. You think he’s coming, but then he pulls almost all the way out, before slamming in again. “I never want to stop fucking you.”

You moan, and then your lips ghost on the shell of his ear. Though you’ve been struggling to speak, you say, “You’re so fucking big.”

“I know,” he breathes out. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

You whine. “Never. You’d never hurt me.”

His grip on you tightens, like he’s trying to say he wouldn’t hurt you, wouldn’t be able to, and then he’s fucking you again. The knot in your stomach comes back in full force, especially as he starts whispering filthy praises in your ear, growing more breathless with every swipe of his hips.

Just when you think you’ll come, Jungkook grunts, “I’m going to c-“

He never finishes his sentence, but the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you as he stills deep inside makes you fly over the edge, and your walls start spasming around his cock, milking his orgasm. It feels far too good, like you’ve reached nirvana, and it takes you so long to come down from your high that you believe you never will.

But you do. You do, and the first thing you notice is the cold. Though it’s a lot warmer than it was when you started this whole ordeal, you still shiver.

Jungkook gently pulls a blanket over you, before circling your waist again. He doesn’t let go, not even as his dick, now soft, slips out of you. He lets you lay on top of him, ear against his chest so that you listen to his heartbeat, refusing to move.

You don’t want anything to pop this bubble of peace. Never. You just want to stay here with him, content breathing in the same air as him, until eternity flashes in front of you. Until you grow old and grey, to go to sleep forever. It’s a powerful feeling, though you like to tell yourself that it’s mutual. That his heart, beating softly in his chest, beats for you, in time with the beats of your own heart. You hope that he, too, doesn’t want to let go, though you reckon that this probably was just a hook-up to him, something he’ll be proud of, yet keep to himself. Because wouldn’t Jungkook be the kind of guy to be proud he bagged the little sister? You think he would.

And the thought scares you more than you would ever dare to admit.

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Is it me or is it hot in here? oof- Let me know what you thought of this chapter! I hope that smidge of angst at the end doesn't scare you too much...... bc trust me it scares me OOP

#chasing cars ch 4 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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utterlyotterlyx · 3 days

Text

Written In The Stars

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - As Azriel prepares himself for your wedding day, he recounts the moments where all of his dreams came true.

Warnings - fluff central, slight touch of angst, pining Az, lots of love all round

If there was anything that Azriel was sure of, it was you. It would always be you.

That morning had started the same as any other, although, there were two key differences. The first difference was that his mate hadn’t woken up beside him, and he walked through his memories and smiled at the one where Nesta, Feyre, Mor, and Elain had coaxed you out of the house whilst Amren sternly told the three Illyrians to not interrupt your last night as an unmarried woman or else face her wrath.

Azriel recounted the innocent terror in your eyes and chuckled roughly as the sun warmed his skin, urging him to wake.

Then he noted the second difference to his morning, it turned out that the day ahead wasn’t going to be like any other, and that no day would ever compare to what was to come. It was his wedding day. The day that he married the love of his life, his mate, his reason for existing.

His y/n.

Remembering the past 400 years, it dumbfounded Azriel how the bond hadn’t snapped sooner considering he had spent the better part of those 400 years pining after you, hopelessly in love with you and growing increasingly frustrated at your unawareness toward his affections.

There was no one in the world that was as bright and perfect as you.

They had met you in Windhaven, on a night so brutal that you had never nor ever would speak of it, and it was the only place you could go where your light would blinker. It flashed on your face often. Being the daughter to an Illyrian general meant that you had unfortunately fallen victim to the barbaric act known as wing clipping, and it was something you had worked your entire life to destroy.

Despite it all, you were as radiant as the sun, you were gifted that from your mother, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever think you'd see. Until Azriel that is. There was a certain warmth about you, a gut-wrenching scent of home that Azriel could never quite explain, an aura that pulled everyone around you into serenity and soothed any of their pain.

The day Rhys had figured out that you were an empathic healer was the day he knew that you and Azriel were meant to be. No one could soothe his pain more than you, and when he slept next to you he actually slept. No demons haunted his dreams, every villainous thought evaporated from his mind, and he felt peaceful. Truly peaceful.

Azriel remembered the moment the bond had snapped as if it had only occurred yesterday. It was one of the warmer days of the year and you had insisted upon a family day out, they were too rare even though you all spent the majority of your time together; you had leveraged Tarquin's adoration of you in your collective favour and bagged the family a day on the beaches of the Summer Court, promising that you'd keep a strict eye on Cassian and personally tie him to a pole if he stepped one toe out of line. Azriel had simply chuckled at your might as the words left your mouth.

Summer had always called to you, perhaps it was the sound of the waves, maybe it was the sand between your toes or the salted breeze that drifted by. Whatever it was, it moulded with you. Azriel had never seen you happier actually. The moment the bond had snapped had taken him by complete surprise, you were walking through the water with Nyx in your arms, occasionally dunking the babe in the water and smiling at his wild laughter as he emerged; when Nyx had resurfaced and grabbed your face in his little hands, staring at you like the brightest star in the sky, did the bond snap for Azriel.

Since that moment all he could ever imagine was the image of you with your own child, his child.

Frustratingly, the bond hadn't snapped for you in that moment, which was annoying as it was the perfect setting for it. Azriel dreamt of it when you had all returned home that evening, he dreamt of you feeling the snap and turning around with Nyx bundled up into your arms, he dreamt of your eyes connecting across the beach and the most serene smile etching its way onto your lips before the most joyful giggle passed through them.

But no, the Mother had decided to drag it out for as long as she possible could.

The entire of the Inner Circle had figured it out long before you did, only, you didn't figure it out. Azriel had pretty much screamed it at you after seeing you getting a little too up close and personal with another male during Starfall.

No one could have even tried to compare to your beauty that night, you wore a sheer dress embellished with a thousand crystals, priceless jewels that had been crafted just for you. The Star of Velaris. No one could shine brighter, not if they even wished it, and all eyes were on you and the silhouette of your figure the moment you stepped into the hall that was dressed to perfection at the House of Wind.

All air had left his lungs when his eyes found yours twinkling in the faelight, constellations inking your irises, and he knew then that no matter what he was going to tell you that he was your mate. Azriel was nervous, it was very well known that no one could ever be good enough for you, and he was terrified that you wouldn't accept it; and even more than that, Azriel was afraid that he'd lose you as a pillar in his life altogether.

Rhys had instructed the quartet to play your favourite rendition of your favourite song, it was slow and romantic, a flurry of alluring strides from the violins and crashing crescendos, if you could be a song then it would certainly be that one. Though, before Azriel could ask you to dance with him to the sweet melody, another male had swept in and taken you, curling his digits around the curve of your hip in a way that was meant to be his to do and his alone.

Azriel watched from the side-lines, itching to cut in and bring his plan to fruition, but he couldn't ruin a night made for you, not when you'd gone through so much effort to be the most spectacular thing in the room. Not that you needed to try by any means.

The moment you smiled at the male, so sultry, exposing all of your gleaming white teeth into a smile that could only be described as captivating, did Azriel completely lose his mind. Azriel crossed the dancefloor, gripping your wrist just as you were about to expose your neck to the male who believed he was righteous enough to have you, and dragged you from sight leaving behind the Inner Circle who all exchanged smug knowing looks to one another at the situation at hand.

"Azriel! What are you doing? Will you just stop for one pissing second?!" Your voice reverberated against the walls, you were struggling to keep up with his stalking, the effortless curls Mor had spent the better part of two hours styling whipping past your face in the breeze he was creating. "I swear to the Mother, Azriel. Will you please just slow down?"

It seemed as though Azriel had heard the request and cut his speed by a third, making it easier for you to scramble after him. You had continued to ask him what his problem was as he dragged you through the House of Wind, all up until he pushed through a familiar set of looming doors and pulled you in front of him, taking the opportunity to close the doors upon his own exit onto the balcony.

Looking at you in the moonlight despite your fury made him forget the reason why he dragged you from the party that you had helped Feyre to arrange, the way your dress sparkled in the light made him lose all sense entirely. "Did you drag me out here to say absolutely nothing? If so, I'll just head back to the party," you went to move past him, your fingers barely grazing the doorhandle before he wrapped a strong arm around your midsection and lifted you, setting you onto the ground on the other side of the clearing, "What is going on with you? Did something happen?" When he said nothing you took a step backward, the small of your back colliding with the stone railing keeping you from toppling over the edge, "Az, you're scaring me."

He'd never want to scare you, he fumbled with his words, stuttering out what he needed you to hear, and upon the sound of his insecurity your eyes softened. Tilting your head to the side gently to inspect him further, you hadn't noticed your hair sweep across your back, exposing the skin of your neck to him which almost sent him into a frenzy right then and there.

"You were dancing with him."

Furrowing your brow, you asked incredulously, "Am I not allowed to dance with a male now?"

"No. I mean, of course you are. Just not him."

"Then with who?"

That usual wit was prominent in the way you popped your hip to the side, hand resting on the bone as your temper rose, "You're meant to dance with me."

Scoffing, you turned around to face the open air, noting the flurry of gold from the valley below, turning your head to the side you smiled at the music floating from the ballroom in the grand hall, "I always dance with you, Az."

It wasn't a lie, you always sought Azriel out at these kind of events, even in the comfort of the River House it wasn't odd for Rhys or Cassian to return home to see you and Azriel dancing in the living area to some serene folk melody. The two were the first to know of the bond, Azriel had told them one evening when you had padded off to bed in one of his jumpers that drowned you, a ghosting grin tugged at his lips and he said, "Isn't my mate the most perfect creature you've ever witnessed?"

"It's not enough," Azriel approached you, admiring the way the breeze floated by your figure, sending the tendrils of your curls dancing in the wind that his shadows immediately shot out from his shoulders to waltz with.

A gentle chuckle rolled from your tongue at the act, you had always adored them, and they always found a certain level of peace when with you, just like everyone did. Turning back to him, you leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the hem, "Dancing with you isn't enough? How about all the nights we've fallen asleep next to one another reading? Or maybe all of the dinners we've been out to? Or the thousands of evenings where we've gotten drunk off our asses and gossiped? What about the countless missions we've been on together?"

The ignorance was making his blood boil with need, and he couldn't stop the words from flying from his mouth, "I'm your mate, y/n!"

Your body stilled, your eyes widened in shock, and the tether of your soul swam out to greet his own, curling around it and shuddering in untold delight but you didn't move at the sensation, you hadn't even let out a breath, "I have loved you for 400 years regardless of it, I've loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you all those years ago in Windhaven. I love everything that you have become, everything that you have grown into. It snapped the day we went to the Summer Court, the day you told Cassian that if he misbehaved that you'd tie him to a pole?" A huff of amusement flew from your lips at the memory, Cassian had never been so terrified of you in that moment.

"I was content in waiting for you no matter if it took 4 months or 400 years, I was happy to sit a watch you live your life whilst waiting for it to snap, but I can't stand by and watch another males hands roam all over you. It makes me think the most violent things I have ever thought in my entire existence."

"I didn't want to ruin it for you, but I can't watch another male hold you when I know that it should be me," Azriel strode over to you, cupping your face in his hand whilst his other wound around your own, pulling it your chest and resting your palm over your heart, "I'm yours y/n. Completely, utterly, hopelessly yours. So please say something, anything."

A moment passed, a moment that felt like an eternity to him as he waited for those beautiful lips to make a sound, "You've loved me for 400 years?" Azriel barely heard your question, he lowered his gaze to meet yours, brushing a stray stand of hair behind your ear and grazing the shell of it.

The gates of the bond had flung right open, and all you felt was the pure adoration and certainty of his feelings for you flowing down the tether tying your souls together, it made you feel as though you were floating. Azriel nodded, "And I know that it's impossible to love you more than I do right now, but I know that tomorrow I will, and each day after that."

Furling your fingers into the lapels of the jacket you had picked out for him, you pulled Azriel down to meet your lips in a clash of desperate nips and teeth; his hold strengthened around you, leaning you back into the stone railing and allowing his hands to rest on your neck and the small of your back as he deepened the embrace, moving his lips against yours in a way he was only able to dream of. Parting for air, you smirked against his lips, "I love you too."

Then the skies opened, streaks of starlight soured across the blank canvas of the night, like they were waiting for you both to finish until they put on their show. The citizens of Velaris couldn't stop talking about how it was the most magnificent Starfall they had ever witnessed, and both of you were inclined to agree.

It had made complete sense that the balcony where Azriel had confessed his feelings to you was the same place where you had decided to get married a year later to the exact day.

Mor and Nesta had made sure that the balcony was covered in faelights, Elain had designed a beautiful flower arch of orchids and freshly bloomed cala lilies that Lucien had been instructed to erect that morning, and Feyre was in charge of everything else. Bestowing the title of maid of honour to Feyre was the smartest decision you had made in the entire process, Cassian pouted for three days after she had accepted, but then you had asked Rhys to officiate the ceremony which meant that by default Cassian became Azriel's best man.

The fact that Azriel hadn't seen you for almost a day was driving him insane, he had to be near you each moment he was in the city, and even on missions he would constantly flood the bond with his love for you so that you'd know that he was alright and that he was just as obsessed with you as he was the moment he would leave. Every second you were with one another meant that he had to be touching you, whether it be his fingers grasping the skin of your thigh or pulling you onto his lap so he that could be as entwined with you as possible.

Even when he was meant to be readying himself for his wedding, all he could think about was you, he sent a flow of love and unwavering certainty down the bond and smirked to himself like a bashful schoolboy when the same flood was sent back to him.

"Are you ready to get married, Az? You can still run, no one would judge you," Azriel sent Cassian a warning glare, earning him a small apology in return for the stupid remark. There was no reality where Azriel wouldn't choose you, your bargain tattoo was proof of that fact, a promise you had both made the night you had solidified the bond, a promise that you would always find one another in any lifetime, in any world. One would not exist without the other.

Azriel's suit was impeccable, just how Feyre had ordered it to be, a black open collared shirt and form fitting pants, and a slightly oversized midnight blazer made that way because Feyre knew you'd be asking for it at some point during the course of the night. If Azriel looked this good then he could only imagine how other-worldly you would appear at the end of the aisle.

You had both decided on an intimate ceremony, the Inner Circle only, it meant more to you both that way. But the party afterward would be packed full of friends from across the continent, a rare allowance from Rhys for such a special occasion. Which meant that all of the High Lords were to be in attendance, which meant some very luxurious gifts for you and your to-be husband.

The night was perfect, a soft summer breeze floated through the city from the west, the warm faelights sparkled against the backdrop of the night sky and the golden valley of the city below, illuminating the pristinely bloomed flowers in their collective hue.

Azriel awaited you at the end of the aisle patiently, stood between Rhys and Cassian who were beaming with pride, the latter doing his best to contain his tears. Mor, Amren, Elain and Lucien found their places on either side of the makeshift aisle and all looked back as the door opened to reveal Feyre wearing a beautiful blue-grey gown adorned with crystals embellished into the skirt; she had clearly been crying, and that fact made a silent sob catch in Azriel's throat.

The High Lady approached the arch, smiling brightly at Azriel and blinking away her tears before kissing Rhys on the cheek and stepping off to the side. A gentle song consumed the small quartet that you had insisted upon having at the ceremony, playing the most beautiful rendition of your favourite song, a song that meant a great deal to both of you.

Inhaling deeply, Azriel watched the doors open once more, revealing Nesta with your arm linked through hers, she was wearing the twin dress to Feyre, her hair was unbound down her spine, and she had began crying before the doors had even opened by the way she dabbed a tissue against her cheeks.

Then he found you, your skin shimmered in the faelight, like a star had floated from the sky and brushed against your skin. The dress threatened to make him crumple to his knees, a white long-sleeved off-the-shoulder garment that accentuated every single curve and angle of your form; a thigh high cut in the fabric exposed your calf and that bargain tattoo on your thigh. Then was the matter of the veil, intricately crafted so that the hem resembled tendrils of white shadow, his own shadows reacted instantly, flowing from his body and pecking the hem of it as you drifted up the aisle arm in arm with Nesta.

Nesta hugged you tightly before finding her place beside Feyre, and you turned to Azriel, taking his outstretched hand and stepping up to the dais, "I told you that I'd love you more today," he spoke lowly, just loud enough for you alone to hear.

This time the stars didn't wait for the descent, the moment your lips touched one another, the stars unleashed their joy across the night sky, casting their glow across the entire city and dragging themselves right across the balcony where you stood, showering you and your husband in their love and happiness.

The entire of the Inner Circle danced well into the early hours of the morning, and you were right, inviting the other High Lords did have it perks considering the gifts you had received. But when the party began to die down and the last few souls dwindled in your presence, did Azriel whisk you away back to that balcony where you had both confessed your love a year prior, pulling you close to his body and ensuring that the night at the House of Wind ended doing the thing you loved doing most. Dancing in one another's arms until Azriel scooped you up and carried you back to your shared home on the bank of the Sidra.

It was safe to say that the Inner Circle didn't dare to contact you for an entire month afterward.

Author's Note

Just a little one from me x

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indulgentdaydream · 2 days

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protective!jason hcs or blurb 🥰

Ok so I kinda touched on these in my latest fic but anyways i WILL elaborate bc those were just background

We all know that man is touch starved. We ALL know it.

We also all know he’s hesitant with sharing touch

It’s only once you both have been dating for a bit already, maybe three months in, that he really starts to show his protectiveness through his touch

Or at least when you notice it

He’s always at least holding your hand as you guys walk around Gotham. Depending on exactly whereabouts in Gotham is when he changes whether he’s between you and the road, or you and the alleyways.

You watched him change it up one time halfway through your shared walk, him letting go of your left hand, stepping behind you and around to grab your right instead.

“Oh? So you want me to get hit by a car and die?”

Jason only keeps his eyes on the passing buildings and the ones coming up, “The chance of that is much lower than somebody trying to mug you in this area, love.”

One day you’re both out at the bar together. He’s sitting on a stool behind you as you babble to oke of yours friends.

From over their shoulder, you see a man approaching, but don’t think anything of it.

Suddenly, you see the man stop in his tracks, freezing. You glance over at him. He looks terrified. He glances at you, his original target, then behind you again. He spins on his heel and walks back the way he came.

You look behind you, feeling Jason’s hand still resting on your hip. You almost feel a little scared yourself, seeing that killer glare that Jason’s pointing at the guy’s back.

He switches immediately the second he looks down to you, a soft smile and kind eyes, not a hint of the previous bloodlust a mere second ago. “What?” He asks, like watching his expression change wasn’t the biggest turn on in the world.

You’re sitting in your apartment at your desk typing away on your laptop. You’re trying to file your taxes, and Jason had come over to help you with it (surprisingly he knows how even though he’s still legally dead at this point and hasn’t had to pay any taxes. Ever.)

He had stood and was wondering around your room a bit while he waited for you to fill the next part out. You can hear shuffling, but you’re too focused to tune into it.

“Jay? What does this line mean?”

Jason grunts for a moment and you hear your window slide open.

You turn back around, “Jay?”

“One second.” He shuts your window again. You watch as he fiddles with the lock before easily sliding the window back open. He throws his hands in the air and looks at you. “How long have you lived here?”

You shrug, confused, “You helped me move in.”

Jason waves his hand through the air, “When?”

“Almost a year? Last November.”

Jason fiddles with the window again, slamming it back down, “This lock doesn’t work. You been sleeping in here and anyone could’ve just broken in?”

You shrug again, “I didn’t know it was broken! I don’t really lock my window often.”

Jason looks like he almost broke his neck by how fast his head whipped back to you, “You don’t lock your window????”

He finishes your taxes for you before he leaves, saying he’ll be back. Within the hour he’s knocking on your door again, a duffle bag in hand full of power tools, screws, and different assortments of heavy duty locks. He spends the rest of the night installing them.

A new one on your bedroom window that actually consisted of two different locks. A similar two on your kitchen window. Another three on your bedroom door itself. Then four on your front door.

As he leaned over your kitchen sink, screwing in the lock and blocking your way as you tried to make you both dinner.

“Is this really necessary?”

“I’m not having you practically open to every bad thing the city has to offer, love.”

“Then how are you going to come in through my window now?”

“I’ll learn to knock.”

That’s all I can think of right now okay byeee

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atsumou · 3 days

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SFW; fluff, atsumu eats your leftovers but according to him, he has a very good reason why. inspired by my prev post but what i experienced wasn’t anything like this :(. divider: cafekitsune.

── “what part of ‘mine. don’t eat.’ do you not understand?” the question flies right into atsumu’s room the second he opened his door, sharp tone greeting him before he could even fully see your standing figure. genuinely confused, the male furrowed his brows, free hand scratching at the shaved part of his nape. and he has the audacity to look confused, you thought, head tilting to the side as the anger rose within you.

for the past few months, you’ve been roommates with atsumu—he was nothing but polite, and respectful, albeit a little rowdy at times but nothing too unmanageable. that was until two weeks ago where you had stored leftovers in the fridge at night, saving it for tomorrow’s lunch. unlucky for you, it disappeared the next morning. that was fine. okay. swallowing the unpleasant feeling that settled in your chest—maybe atsumu thought it was for him, you blame yourself for not labelling it as yours. a rookie mistake.

the second time it happened, you were beyond speechless. wanting to give atsumu the benefit of the doubt, you concluded it as a coincidence—maybe he was tired from practice, there was nothing else appetising in the fridge except your leftovers. so, again, you let it slide.

the third time, however, it was a pattern without a doubt, and you knew better than to let it slide. having to look forward to something—especially a good meal—only for it to be taken away in an instant was something you wouldn’t even wish on upon your worst enemy. though, your worst enemy was standing right before you, hand behind his head, clueless as hell. maybe you would wish it upon your worst enemy. “hm?” atsumu mirrored the tilt of your head, only spurring your annoyance further.

“my leftovers. i know you’ve been eating them, miya. we’re the only ones who live here.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut at his lack of common sense. being angry was one thing, but being both angry and hungry was a whole different discussion. “explain. i went out of my way to put a sticky note to let you know that it was mine yet you still ate it.” atsumu couldn’t help the familiar feeling blossoming in his chest—the one that occurs whenever he was in your presence.

you looked so cute all riled up. the way your brows furrowed, carving lines between your forehead or the way the corners of your lips pointed down, forming a small pout. atsumu didn’t even care that he was on the receiving end of your hangry mood. he gave you a sheepish smile, one that would’ve had your cheeks heating if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, “i’m sorry. .” his two-worded apology hung in the air, waiting to be completed.

so you stood there, arms crossed, eyes boring into his own. atsumu looked away, gaze lingering on the door hinge as if it was the most interesting piece of metal in the world. “i have a valid reason but it’s silly.” he let out an empty chuckle, hand rubbing at his nape. valid reason? what kind of reason did he have to justify him eating your leftovers? ones that you bought with your own money.

atsumu took your silence as a signal to keep going. oh god, now he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole—for the carpet beneath his feet to just split apart and let him fall into nothingness. the more atsumu scoured his mind for the right words, the more he felt like an idiot, embarrassment engulfing his every being. mind you, he wanted this to happen and now that it was playing right before his eyes, he couldn’t help but chicken out.

the sentences laced together in his mind were useless anyway when he blurted out ‘i think you’re cute’ which only deepened the creases between your brows. silence. there was about a good 10-second silence, and during the span of that, atsumu really wished he was swallowed whole. but nope, he had to face the consequences of his stupid actions.

it wasn’t because he was being a dick, no, far from that. ever since atsumu saw you walk through the shared apartment, he felt something foreign—he felt his heart skip a beat, and not in the way it would during intense rallies in a match. all atsumu knew was that he wanted to get to know you better, even if it meant getting your attention in silly little ways—although, annoying might be the better word to describe it on your end.

there was nothing but mutual respect with the bond you two shared but it was also not intimate, and atsumu craved intimacy. you’ve both remained civil ever since living with one another, giving and receiving pleasantries throughout the day, small conversations but nothing too deep. it didn’t help that you weren’t the type to make small talk, only engaging in a conversation with atsumu whenever he initiated.

so, he devised a rather smart (idiotic) plan to gain your undivided attention—to simply put it: eating your leftovers so you would notice him. atsumu mentally noted to give himself a pat on the back for mission accomplished, though, that’d have to come later since he had no backup plan for how to deal with this situation. “that’s it . . ?” he felt small under your judgement, not to mention the amusement in your tone.

atsumu would rather be on the receiving end of sakusa’s spikes than ever admit to you that he’s been craving for your attention like a lovesick puppy with its tailed tucked between its legs. alas, here he was facing the consequences, a crimson blush painted on his cheeks while animatedly explaining in complete detail of why he’s been eating your leftovers. you didn’t know whether to be upset, flattered or both.

upset because out of all ideas, atsumu thought resorting to eating your food was the best candidate. flattered because he thinks you’re cute and have been silently pining for you and your attention. both because of how silly this all sounded—the moment you came knocking on atsumu’s door, you expected a concrete explanation for his actions, not a full blown confession.

you laughed, not because of being upset nor flattered but because of how dumb the situation was. atsumu mirrored your laugh despite the gears turning in his head, trying to find a reason why you were laughing at him. “you know, you could’ve just told me about your feelings in the first place and i would have happily accepted them.” that was atsumu’s first thought but it was too easy for him (no it wasn’t, he doesn’t know how to properly talk to people he pines for.).

later in the evening, after returning from a dinner with your friends, atsumu found a singular takeaway container sitting in the fridge with a little note: for you :P <3

a few hours ago, the food would’ve been labelled as ‘mine’ to deter him from eating it but atsumu has a good assumption that he was the one labelled as yours, this time.

#₊˚ෆ YUE WRITES!#what we will do is find inspiration from the unpleasant occurences of my life #pls dont eat someone else’s food okay #miya atsumu #atsumu imagines #atsumu fluff #atsumu drabbles #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

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loliwrites · 2 days

Text

I. Tenacity | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, no infected here just terrible humans, mention of death, blood, and murder, mentions of hunger, diva cup appearance, talk of irregular menstrual cycles [trauma-induced menopause][epigenetics], DUBCON/NONCON [tagging ‘cause reader allows it but true enthusiastic consent is absent], brief SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, slow burn-ish, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 5.6k series masterlist a/n: my first go at writing something tlou-related. be gentle pls.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The steady rhythm. You could count the number of times your hip would be shoved into the wooden table with a high degree of certainty of when it would be over. Michael never lasted too long. Somewhere between thirty-four and thirty-seven thrusts. He was never particularly rough, and though he was never chasing to make you feel good, he was at least better than George and James – both of whom would probably be lining up after Michael was done. George seemed to last forever. Some old fart who’d gained his stamina before the world came to a screeching halt. He usually landed somewhere between sixty-two and sixty-six thrusts. The bruises he left behind always lasted the longest because of the sheer amount of times he slammed your body into whatever you were up against. A table, a railing, an old pool table with torn, dirty felt. And the worst of all was James. He may not last the longest, but he had the uncanny ability of making you feel like some depraved wild animal he was trying to break. He never took his time to make sure it wouldn’t be absolutely painful like Michael did. Nor did he have a pencil dick to make it somewhat manageable like George. He took it how he wanted it – fast, unceremonious, and always left you in a mess you’d have to clean up.

Part of you wondered if this was worth it. If the wolf was only as strong as the pack, then having a pack was supremely necessary. And though, these guys… and the group they led… weren’t the people you would’ve gone with by choice. A pack was a pack. Alone, you were an easy target for almost anything and anyone. Being together afforded you safety in numbers. Relative safety in numbers. Safe enough to have stayed alive with them for the past six years. Years that you likely wouldn’t have gotten if you’d fought them tooth and nail and went off on your own. Solitude could only get you so far. No matter how proficient you were with your rifle.

The one that lay in front of you on the table. Clean, well-oiled, with a scope affixed to the top. As Michael started to moan recklessly behind you, you thought about the meals you’d forfeited in trade for the supplies needed to keep the weapon in the best of shape. Times were tough – had been tough for a couple decades now – and a gun was a gun. It didn’t need to be clean, it just had to work. But this was no ordinary gun.

Michael came inside you with a strangled grunt and pulled out a second later. That was a relatively new twist in the routine. For years the men were careful to never finish inside you… or any of the other women in the group. Food and resources were scarce enough as it was, let alone adding little mouths to feed and take care of. But a few months back, you’d confided in some of the women that your period hadn’t been coming when you expected it to. And when time had passed and neither a baby nor your period came, you came to the conclusion you were suffering from the same fate as some of the other women. A hard life compounded. Trauma induced menopause. You weren’t sure which of the women had ratted you out. But soon enough the men had become aware of your new biological situation, and they stopped the frantic pulling out as they came. Perhaps that was for the best. Who’d want to bring a child into a world like this?

“Was that alright?” Michael asked, buckling his belt back up. His back was turned toward you as he reached for his own rifle, which he’d propped up against the wall.

You glanced over at him and pulled your pants back up your legs. Over the lofted railing, you could hear George and James mumbling to each other. “Fine,”

“Did you…?”

He finally met your eyes. Anxiety-ridden. None of the other men ever asked, but you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. At some point maybe it’d sink in that he should stop partaking in the act just to fit in with the boys. “No,”

His gaze averted to the floor sheepishly and he shouldered his rifle. “Guess we should get back downstairs,”

“I’ll be down in a couple minutes,”

Now you were the one to turn your back on him. Though you hoped he’d come to his senses and start to become a better man. You knew he wouldn’t. He was initiated into the system. The one George and James, and all the other men in the settlement formed. The one that meant they brought girls along on patrols so they could get their kicks and save face with the others that they were doing their due diligence in protecting the group. And you joining the group… well you turned out to be the little guardian angel for the women in the pack. Good with a gun, able to pick off infected and humans alike from a mile out. It only seemed natural that the men going out on patrols would take you with them. For that you inadvertently protected the other women from your fate.

Michael cleared his throat and started down the stairs from the loft. You bit the inside of your cheek to show yourself you could still feel something, and – BANG!

Your head flicked around toward the noise. What was left of Michael was splattered against the wall leading up the stairs. You grabbed your gun and held it poised. Looked over the lofted banister and down at the room below. George had backed up into the far corner; his arms raised in non-threatening compliance. Someone must’ve been pointing a weapon at him, but you couldn’t tell from the angle. And James, well… if it didn’t warm your heart a little bit to see him being restrained in a chokehold with a handgun to his temple. The man you could see, holding James, was tall, muscular… he had black, curly, jaw-length hair. A thick mustache. He was in all denim. And it was clean, which was the thing that caught you the most off-guard.

You lifted your gun, disregarding the scope, and looked down the barrel. James may’ve been part of your pack, but you’d thought about putting a bullet in him on a daily basis for the last eight years. And while these guys might kill you afterward, at least you’d have the brief satisfaction of knowing that you’d taken one terrible human off the face of the planet.

So there was no hesitancy when you squeezed the trigger. The round flew by the denim-clad man’s head and went straight into James’. He crumpled to the floor and the man who’d been holding him looked up in your direction, though you’d backed away enough to ensure you weren’t seen.

Your pulse was pounding in your ears. Despite two thirds of your life having been in a post-Cordyceps world, the sound and reverberation of your rifle going off right by your ear didn’t keep it from ringing. An almost concussion-like haziness emphasized by the adrenaline coursing in your veins. From down below, you could just barely hear George pleading for his life. Something about how he had a woman he loved and wanted to go home to. Strange considering he had his dick in you on most days out.

The ringing in your ears started to quiet, just in time for you to hear a footstep behind you. A heavy one. Definitely belonged to a man. But not in time for you to spin around with your rifle before finding the man already pointing his rifle at you.

“Drop it,” he commanded gruffly. A deep, gravelly voice. He was sure of himself. Confident. His tattered jacket bunched up around his shoulders. He wasn’t as clean-looking as his partner currently detaining George. Graying, brown hair, a prominent scar over his nose, a scruffiness… and yet, he still looked too put together to have been living off the land for any amount of time. You should know. God knows what you looked like had you ever taken any time in front of a mirror. If the dirtiness of your hands were any indication, you were a little worse for wear. “I said, drop it,”

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and you slowly bent over and placed your rifle on the floor. No sooner than you’d completed the action, he had another order for you. Kick it here and get on your knees. So you did. Nudged your most prized possession away with your foot when another BANG! rang through the old hunting lodge. Your eyes flinched shut; the nanosecond of thought that this was it. You’re dead. But then… you still felt alive. And you squinted your eyes open to evaluate. Yep, definitely still alive. No bleeding holes coming from your body, and the man still in front of you waiting for you to comply with his last order. Which you did… awkwardly. A grimace stretched over your face when you knelt down and felt your pants sticking to your thighs; Michael’s spend dripping out of you.

The muzzle of the man’s rifle never left you, “got anything else on you?”

“Knife in my front pocket,”

“Slide it over,”

You did. Quickly. Hoping that your quickness and willingness to obey him would mean he’d let you go with your tail tucked between your legs.

“You infected?”

You glared at him, “do I look infected?”

He cocked his gun and held it up in line with your head. You trained your eyes on his index finger around the trigger. Just one twitch. That’s all it’d take.

“Joel,” both you and the man… Joel… looked away from each other, and fixed your eyes on the stairs where the second one – the one you’d disregarded in order to kill James – entered the loft. “Look at her gun,” both men looked at your rifle. “I don’t think she misses very often. If she was gonna kill us, we’d already be dead.”

He went to approach you, and this time Joel spoke up. A cautious step forward, “Tommy.”

But this Tommy… he took another couple steps in your direction and handed off his rifle to Joel when he went to stand in front of you. You kept your eyes on his face, tilting your head back to keep him in your line of vision. Even if he tried something, you weren’t sure what you’d do to stop him, but at least you’d see it coming.

“I don’t think you missed me. I don’t even think you were aiming at me,”

“I wasn’t,”

A victorious smile spread across his face and he twisted around to look back at Joel, “see.” Tommy looked back down at you and set his hands on his hips. “What’s your name?”

You flicked your eyes at Joel quickly before returning them to Tommy to answer his question.

“You’re with the other settlement?”

“I wouldn’t call them a settlement,” your eyes flicked over to Joel when he clicked his tongue on his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Nomads, at best,”

“And at worst?” Joel barked.

Your eyebrows lifted quickly in contemplation before… “a bunch’a assholes,”

Another wide grin broke out over Tommy’s face. “You got a family or a partner in that bunch of assholes?” He waited for a verbal response but you only shook your head. “We’ll take her back with us. She might be able to give us some answers about our friends we’ve been seeing on patrol.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They made you walk while they sat easily atop their horses. Some kind of cruel twist of fate that your own gun was turned on you the whole time. Joel made sure of that. Based on the way the sun fell toward the horizon, you figured you’d all been an hour and a half walk south of their settlement. Which as you neared the large wooden gates, seemed to be more like a QZ than some random encampment. And judging by the way the two men bickered, you assumed they were brothers. Only siblings could piss each other off like that and not take it personally. How lucky, you thought, that after all this time, they still had each other.

When you did near the enormous gates, Tommy left you behind with Joel. A precarious position. His face remained stoic the entire time, muzzle of the gun pointed at you… didn’t even answer when you asked if his horse had a name. You thought about goading him into an argument for the fun of it. Maybe he named his horse Princess. Or Spike. But Tommy interrupted again, riding up with a handful of others and even a dog. It growled and snarled in your direction, and you weren’t sure why, but you glanced back up at Joel to see if his expression had changed. Maybe you wouldn’t be so scared if he didn’t look like there was something you should be nervous about.

To your surprise, he was already staring at you. Upon meeting your gaze, he nodded once and jut his chin in the direction of the dog. “S’gonna sniff you. See if you’re infected. If not, like you say, nothin’ll happen.”

“If I am?” You cocked your head back toward the snarling animal.

“It’ll probably just take your leg off or somethin’,”

“Any chance this dog fucks up?”

“Probably not,”

And it didn’t. Thankfully. Hopefully this meant they’d trust explicitly that you indeed weren’t infected. They seemed to trust their trained animal enough to let you inside their settlement. Jackson, they called it. You’d never heard of it. Never heard of any rumblings of a massive commune. And yet…. It was gorgeous. Nice buildings, string lights, stables, a bar, dining hall, and in the distance, what seemed to look like a large, sweeping neighborhood.

Tommy had joined up with a woman: Maria. They kissed and spoke fondly to each other, so you assumed they were partners. Both walked ahead of you, while Joel remained at your rear. You figured with your rifle still pointed at you. Everyone stopped what they were doing when you passed by. All staring to get a glimpse of the newcomer. Would you be joining them permanently? Would they kill you? You asked yourself the same questions.

Your feet had stopped moving but you didn’t notice until you felt the muzzle of your rifle press against your upper back. Joel jabbed the metal against your back again, growing antsier with the fact that your gaze had settled on a teenager in the distance. She was staring at you, too. A fact that seemed to make Joel even more aggravated. He mumbled his annoyance to you and you got moving again, walking up the boarded steps into the dining hall.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They treated you better than you expected. Hell, better than your group would’ve treated someone they didn’t know. They set a big glass of water in front of you with a heaping plate of vegetables, chicken, and fresh bread. The water was one of the biggest surprises. You couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t have to boil water before drinking it. Maybe when you were still with your parents. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Tommy and Maria shared glances like they weren’t sure what you were going to tell them. Considering no one else joined you, you figured these three (or a combination) held a great deal of power in the settlement. Joel, however, looked pissed that this was even happening at all. That he hadn’t just shot you on sight back at the hunting lodge. It was pretty easy to ignore him. You’d spent the better half of your time on earth ignoring men just like him. But then the questions started coming and you figured all this kindness came at a price. They wanted to know everything. So you didn’t hold back. Maybe if you were open and frank with them, they’d let you stay here. They wouldn’t make you go back to those awful people.

Told them that you’d been with that group for the last eight years. And in those eight years, they hadn’t really expanded their numbers by any considerable amount. That they hovered somewhere between forty-four and sixty-two people -- including the three that had been killed today – and that about two thirds of them were men. You even told them about how you’d become a sort of fun novelty for the men. That they brought you along on their scouts because you were better than anyone with a rifle. Once they got their rocks off by watching you down game a mile off, they got their rocks off again, fucking you up against anything sturdy enough to withstand the weight and pressure.

Joel looked down at his lap at that. Avoided your eyes. You took it to mean that he knew what that was like. Maybe he did the same.

You shrugged and pushed the remnants of food around on your plate. Eight years was a long time to endure that type of treatment. You told them as much.

“You don’t have loyalty to anyone in the other group?” Maria asked, probing.

“She shot one of her own guys today. Doesn’t have loyalty to anyone,”

Everyone’s heads turned to Joel. He’d since leaned back in his chair, almost nonchalantly. The gun that had been pointed at you now lay on the opposite end of the table. You thought you saw indignance in his eyes. Disdain for you and the plight he perceived you to be on. Scorched earth. Loyal to no one but yourself. Maybe that was true. Maybe you’d evolved to become highly selective in where to lay your loyalty.

“He wasn’t my guy,” you spat in Joel’s direction. It might as well have been just the two of you in the room. “He was the guy that killed my parents. So fuck him,”

It was hard to tell what they thought of you. Tommy was the only one who smiled freely. Maria saved hers for Tommy. And Joel didn’t smile at all. There was no talk of a plan or a future. No conversation about what was to become of you. All they told you as you wandered from the main street and down one cul-de-sac road lined with houses was that they didn’t allow anyone to have weapons in town. All firearms stayed at the armory.

That conversation ended as they stopped in front of a small one story cottage. It was dark and rickety, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fathom who you were to be put into the arms of. If the house was any indication, probably some horribly untidy mess of a man. Maybe it’d be the type of man you’d wished you’d have your gun around for.

Maria, Tommy, and Joel led you inside that dark, rickety cottage. Unlocked the door and flicked the lights on as they entered the living room. You kept your eyes and ears alert. Your awareness might be the only upperhand you had in sensing danger here. But you heard nothing. You saw nothing. There wasn’t another soul in this house waiting to attack. It was just you and the three who’d brought you here. They didn’t offer an explanation. Joel just stood back and eyed your every move carefully while Maria handed you a little stack of clean clothes, a toothbrush and a tube toothpaste, and a small cardboard box that held something you’d never heard of before: a diva cup.

You looked up to give her an apprehensive glance but found that she was already giving you one. It was a look you’d seen before. When you’d talked yourself into joining that other group all those years ago. It was the look the women had given you before they realized you were about to become their saving grace. She turned away from you and gave Tommy a peck on her way out; not even bothering to acknowledge Joel.

There was a part of you that admired her. For the amount of power she clearly wielded over not only these two men, but seemingly the entire commune. And the other part of you was scared of her. She reminded you of your mother. A strong, domineering type who knew how to control the men around her. You figured if the outbreak hadn’t happened and humans didn’t devolve before your very eyes, you might’ve become the same type of woman. The type who could keep her men in line with a look. The type whose men would’ve quivered at the look you’d shot them.

The front door shut behind Maria in the same moment Tommy was handing you a key. You took it in your hand and ran your thumb over the cold, smooth metal. It had been decades since you held one like it. Surely even before the outbreak, people just didn’t hand over keys to houses for nothing.

“You can stay in Jackson for a month on a little trial run–”

“Probation,” Joel interrupted.

Both you and Tommy flicked your eyes at him. While Tommy looked annoyed, you actually smiled. Somehow Joel’s bluntness was growing to be comforting.

“Jesus, Joel,”

He shrugged, “S’call it what it is. Probation to see if she’s a problem and we gotta send ‘er packin’,”

“Appreciate you both not shootin’ me,” you said, you voice sounding hoarse. You cleared your throat and shook your head absently; a small smile passing over your lips, “would’ve put a damper on my day.”

Tommy grinned though his brother looked unamused at your effort of levity. “Someone’ll come ‘round tomorrow morning around seven-thirty to bring you to the greenhouse. Teach you the workflow down there.” Then off your confused look, he smiled again, heading for the door, “if you’re gonna live in the community, you gotta help out.”

Joel turned his back on you to follow his brother, and you were quick on their heels, “what about my gun? I mean, does everyone have their own gun at the armory, or…”

“It’s a commune. We share,” Tommy said over his shoulder as he tugged the front door back open. He and Joel stepped through the threshold, but your voice stopped them.

“It’s just that… I’d rather not be here and have my gun, than be here and have someone else usin’ it. I appreciate what you’re doin’, and your helping me out, but… to me, staying in Jackson isn’t worth havin’ someone else use my weapon,”

“It’ll be safe,”

Tommy’s voice rang clear and sure, trying to reassure you of something. What, you weren’t certain. But he continued on his way, and only once he stepped off the small porch, did you realize that Joel had momentarily kept himself frozen in place. By your front door, staring you down. You started to shrink back beneath his gaze, unable to discern what it was trying to convey to you. Anger. Resentment. Disappointment. The door nearly concealed you entirely before Joel got his bearings again and descended the porch steps and jogged to keep pace with Tommy again.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The whole thing was weird. All of it. Jackson was an anomaly and the more you tried to make yourself at home, the weirder it got. The house they’d just given you was definitely a pre-outbreak build. It was obvious. Some of the other houses on the block looked new. You imagined they’d smell new. Not your cottage. Scuffed up wood floors. Cracks in the paint and drywall. Even the wood-burning stove. And when you looked out the front window, out at the street, you saw children. Walking by themselves. Joking around. Not nearly on edge or high alert. In fact, you dared to say that they looked like they were having fun.

You’d only been ten when the world came crashing down around you. Fun ripped out from right under your feet. The homestead you’d grown up on – climbing trees, playing hide and seek, shooting down Coke cans – once a safe place to be a kid, had quickly become something to be defended. As you found out many moons later, to the death.

At ten, there wasn’t anything to rebuild in the new world. You hadn’t had any worldly possessions to hang onto. When money became obsolete, it didn’t matter because you’d never had any. Perhaps in a bank somewhere, stuffed away in a savings account that no longer held any weight. Nor did you need the money to get by in life these days. You’d heard tales of the QZ’s from people who’d come from them. Escaped from them. They had a new type of currency. Not the kind you used to have. The green paper money with a bunch of old dudes on the front. The kind your family burned sometime in the winter of 2006 when the first freeze took over and you were sure you’d never get back to the old normal.

And that was what made Jackson the weirdest. It was the closest to ‘old normal’ you’d seen in over two decades. A whole town. Village. Commune, they’d called it. A formal education had stopped young, so the only awareness of anything commune related came from a book your father had about the Bolshevik’s October Revolution. And if you were being honest, it didn’t sound too good. But on top of that, how were you supposed to rebuild now? Maria had been kind enough to give you a few things, but there wasn’t wood for the wood-burning stove. And the electricity might’ve been working, but there wasn’t any food in the fridge. No sides of deer cut up and stored in a chest freezer. How were you supposed to get that in a commune? Did they have money? Did they barter? And either way, you had no money to give and nothing to barter. So how exactly were you supposed to get on in life?

Face up, staring at the ceiling, you laid in bed willing yourself to go to sleep. You’d gone to bed hungry before. More times than you could count. But usually those nights were accompanied by a dirt floor, extreme cold, the threat of being hunted. A million other things to keep your mind off of the fact that your stomach was growling. There wasn’t any of that in Jackson. Everything was quiet, almost eerily so. You were warm. And even though the mattress wasn’t the comfiest of things, it sure as hell beat the floor. With all these little luxuries, it was hard to ignore the hunger.

But even if you had been asleep, you’re sure you would’ve been woken by the footsteps on your old, rickety porch. None of the wood planks laid exactly right. All creaking with age and rot. Much like the world, you thought. Plus you couldn’t remember a night’s sleep that wasn’t disturbed by panic or anxiety, or just plain fear. Probably hadn’t had a peaceful night like that since before the outbreak. Now that creaking on your porch made you jump up and scurry into the corner of your bedroom. Into the shadows. Praying you’d had your rifle. Cursing the idea that you’d stay here without it.

The creaking came and went in a steady procession. Four footsteps. A pause. Another four footsteps. On and on for a few minutes. Long enough for you to have gained your courage again. Long enough for you to have crawled to the front room and peek through the window. Long enough for you to see Joel Miller ambling back and forth on the porch, stacking pieces of wood, conveniently chopped to fit the size of your wood burning stove. What a stark difference from the Joel Miller who’d been pointing a gun at your head this morning. You went to the door and unlatched it, slowly pulling it open so as to not startle him. He came to an abrupt stop. An armful of wood. Staring at you.

He blinked a couple times in quick procession, gaining the wherewithal to move again. “M’sorry if I woke ya’,”

You shook your head, “I don’t sleep much.”

Joel nodded and set the armful of wood on top of the rest. He wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, almost sheepishly. “Winter comes up on us pretty quick here. Insulation in this place is for the birds. Figured you’d need some wood for the stove.”

“Oh,”

“I cleaned out the flue a couple months back so you shouldn’t smoke yourself out,”

Lips pursed together, you pondered the stack of wood nestled up against the cottage. “I don’t think I’m gonna stay. Doesn’t seem like this is the right place for me,”

Joel didn’t have a response for you, just looked down at his feet and kicked at a nonexistent something on the porch.

“That gun–my gun. My dad gave it to me in 2003. September 26th,”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours. Pain riddled in his gaze as if he remembered that date all too well. And when it vanished, the coldness you’d first noticed in the hunting cabin returned.

“It’s all I have left. And as ridiculous as it sounds to be so attached to a rifle, I am. And I–”

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” he interrupted. Just when you thought he’d continue on and show a little more softness, kindness… he kept speaking, “Look, I don’t care if you stay or go. Don’t need stragglers hangin’ ‘round. So I’d love to give you your gun back and dump ya’ out past the gate. But Tommy’s always been a little stupid. Takes chances on people,”

“What an idiot,” you smirked.

A smile flashed over Joel’s face. It was gone in a second. And he turned away from you, descending the porch steps. “He’ll bring you to the greenhouse. Teach’ya how things operate, and…” he took a deep breath. Something almost like fondness erupted in his tone, “you might not wanna stay, but don’t fuck things up there for the rest of us. We got families here. And we’ll need the resources to get through the winter.”

“You think I’d fuck things up on purpose?”

Joel looked over his shoulder and nodded, “yeah. ‘Cause I’ve been in your spot before and I did.”

He continued on and you stayed put on your porch, watching him until he was out of sight. Wondering where the house he was given was. If he was alone, or if he had some sort of partner living with him. But also figured you’d never get the chance to know.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“We get most of our roughage and root vegetables in the colder months. There’s a constant harvest to keep up with the community’s needs, but some of these aren’t hearty enough to withstand the winter. Even inside the greenhouse,”

You nodded dutifully behind Wendy. At least you think that was the name Tommy mumbled as he was being dragged out of the greenhouse by Joel. Something about being late for patrol and not wanting to spend all day on some godforsaken cliffside. She’d just got done showing you the strawberry vines. The lifeless things that she assured you would spring to life when the warmer weather came back.

The work was easy enough. Boring. Nothing you hadn’t already done on your family’s land as a teenager. Only this was on a much smaller scale. Maybe most of these people had come from QZs. And maybe before that they came from big cities. Places where they never knew where their food came from. That it just somehow appeared in their groceries. Yet, by current standards… of canned things from yesteryear, the greenhouse was a bit of a spectacle. Something beautiful.

Wendy continued on her well-practiced lecture about potatoes as you got lost roaming the rows of plants. Up and down each long, leafed path. Fingers gliding over them, not taking the time to stop and acknowledge any plant in particular. Until, in the absence of your thought, your fingers brushed over something woolly. Pulling your hand back, you focused in. There, just beyond your fingertips, a tray of small white flowers. The petals, less like blossoms, but more like leaves. And woolly. Fuzzy. Unlike anything you’d ever seen.

“What’re these?” Eyes still locked onto your discovery, you hadn’t fully comprehended that you’d interrupted Wendy’s spiel.

And yet when she came upon you, there was no ill will or annoyance from her. Just her gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s edelweiss,” she smiled and shrugged her shoulders when her answer had you giving her a questioning glance. “It’s usually up in the Alps. In the middle of nowhere. Jesse came back from patrol one day ‘bout a year ago with a handful of these plucked up from the root. No idea how they ended up in Wyoming.” Wendy brushed her fingers over the fuzzy leaves.

“How’d you know what they were?”

“Call it coincidence or divine intervention, my grandfather had an oil painting of them above his fireplace in the eighties. When he was stationed in Germany during the war, he’d heard all these stories about this little star-shaped flower. Soldiers would climb high up into the mountains to find them. They grow in the harshest places, sometimes even right on rocks. The journey to get them was hard. A lot of guys didn’t finish the trip, but if they did, they got to pin one of these to their uniforms. A symbol of true bravery,”

You admired the flowers again. Now even a smile crossed your face.

Wendy let out an exasperated sigh, “and I figured, hell… if they can survive on the top of the Alps and in this nightmare of an apocalypse, Jesse finding ‘em wasn’t no mistake. Maybe we’re lucky here in Jackson.”

#joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #ppcu fanfiction #edelweiss fic

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sweetbans29 · 2 days

Text

Feud - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You and Caitlin navigate a long-standing basketball feud (based on THIS, THIS, and THIS request)

Warnings: mentions of injury, slight angst, happy ending

Word Count: 4.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I am saying this now, I do not think I will be doing a part 2 for this. Not anywhere in the near future at least.

If someone were to tell you by your senior year of high school you would have a rivalry going on between you and some girl from Iowa, you would call them crazy.

You grew up in Southern California - attending Mater Dei High School and playing ball year-round. You were looked at as one of the most promising college recruits alongside girls like Paige Bueckers and Caitlin Clark. As exciting as it is to be named alongside these girls - it also came with its challenges.

The media caught wind that you were talking to Iowa. Talking initially all about how Iowa was going to be a powerhouse of a team having both you and Caitlin. When you announced that you committed to South Carolina - that is when they immediately pitted the two of you against each other.

It was all funny to you since you had never met the girl. You were encouraged to not look into what the media was saying but there were times that just wasn't possible. You saw how they compared the two of you - never showing the full truth. Even in the facts, they would only take bits and pieces of it and try to show the world how one was better than the other.

When you got to college - it only got worse. You remember your first game against Iowa. It had been all the media could talk about - seeing you go up against Clark for the first time. You saw headlines that went from saying how you didn't want to live in Caitlin's shadow or how you couldn't keep up with Caitlin's growth. Other headlines talked about how she hated you so much that she made you choose a different state to go to school. All of it was a load of bull in your opinion.

At your first game against the Hawkeyes, you were more nervous about all the talk surrounding you and Caitlin than the game itself. You couldn't get the last headline out of your head - 'Caitlin Clark to run circles around SC's freshman'.

"Hey, don't let any of what they are saying get to you," one of your teammates Aliyah says breaking you from the trance you were in.

"Ya, no. I'm good," you say coming back to reality. Aliyah just nods, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

The team goes and plays an incredible game. You were up at the half and were ready to take the second half which is exactly what you did. It was probably your best game yet and you couldn't be more proud.

At the end of the game, someone comes into your locker room and asks you to step outside. You follow before heading to the pressor to find Caitlin standing in an empty hall.

You are surprised and nervous all of a sudden but make your way over to the girl.

"Hi," you say not really sure what to say.

"Hi," she says back. As if just as nervous as you, she awkwardly extends her hand, "I'm Caitlin." You shake her hand and introduce yourself. She continues.

"I wanted to meet you in person in a controlled environment," she says with a little laugh eluding to hiding your first meeting from the media.

"Ya, they have been sort of insane," you say with a laugh of your own. "You had a really solid game today - I can see why so many people love you." You look at the girl standing before you and see her begin to fidget.

"Me?" She says on the verge of shock. " You dominated that court today - I was having a hard time keeping up with you. If anyone had a solid game it was you." She says.

"Well, thank you CC." You say with a smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

"Of course..." She says.

"I am really glad you came here," you begin. "If I'm honest - the media has been a lot recently and I know you are nothing like they are making you out to be. I don't know how you have felt about it but I truly appreciate this gesture. We don't need to be the best of friends, but we don't need to be strangers."

"I like that, although I will never stop trying to beat you on the floor." She says.

"Oh, I expect nothing less. Now knowing you are a sweetheart, I have no problem keeping up this 'feud' the media is creating - it's what the people want." You say playful giving her a little push.

"Oh that won't be hard considering the second we step onto the court my only goal is to bury you into the ground," Caitlin says with a smile. "I am sure we can keep this up and give them what they want with ease. Just know, it is all love off the court."

The two of you exchanged numbers and went on your way. Over the course of the next few years, both of your paths crossed several times. At games, award events, and random camps. Every time the two of you were in the same building the media would eat it up - always posting photos of the two of you giving each other death stares (which never really happened, they just timed it perfectly to make it seem like that or take snippets completely out of context). Since you first met her, the media hasn't taken such a big toll on you. It also helped that she would text you whenever something overly threatening or mean came out. It had you falling for the girl every time - deciding to push the feelings aside, thinking it was just her being sweet.

It was your junior year when things heated up in the media even more than they had in the past. Going into March Madness, all they could talk about was you against Caitlin so much that it brought back all the drama that started when you were going into college. Through it all Caitlin had reached out and reminded you none of it was real. It was very sweet of her.

Your two teams were facing off in the final four and you could not be more prepared.

The game was a close one the entire time - neither team had more of a 5-point lead at any time. It all came down to the final quarter.

Tied going into it - both teams fought to go to the championship game. Two minutes into the quarter things took a turn for the worst.

You were guarding Caitlin - staying vigilant on defense, ensuring she didn't get a good shot. When she went up on a jumper you hit her arm while trying to block the ball drawing the foul. You cursed at yourself for allowing her to go to the free-point line.

She makes the first one with ease and sets back to the line for a second. Everyone anticipates it going in but the second she releases, you can see how her eyes shift as she begins to make her wait for the ball. You cut in front of her, jumping up going for the rebound as she does the same. You get your hand on the ball trying to hold onto it as you make your way down to the ground.

What you weren't expecting was to be shifted so much that when you came down you landed directly on your knee, causing you to let out a murderous scream. Your hands immediately let go of the ball and make their way to the center of the pain - your knee.

The stadium silences immediately - leaving only your cries as you curl up into a ball.

Caitlin - being the closest one to you is hunched over you with her hands on your shoulder while your teammates run to get medical.

"You're okay, you're okay." She keeps muttering as she really doesn't know what to do to comfort you. She knows she is the one who knocked you off balance in the air but never imagined this to happen.

"They are coming," she says trying to restore hope in you.

The medical team comes up and instantly knows they need to get you out of there immediately. They call for a stretcher which comes within seconds of them asking for it. Your eyes are glued shut as you bite the top of your jersey to avoid letting out any more screams.

The pain has blocked out anything and everything happening around you. You can't even remember how it happened, all you know is the centralized pain.

Caitlin watches as they remove you from the floor. She has never been this distressed when it has come to someone leaving the floor due to injury - not even girls from her own team. Cait makes the mistake of looking up at one of the monitors as they replay what happened and tears begin to form on the brim of her eyes as she clearly sees she is the cause of your injury. The media is going to have a field day with this but even more so - all she could think about was how she could ever begin apologizing to you.

Kate makes her way over to the shaking girl and pulls her into a hug.

"That wasn't your fault," she says in her ear. "Don't carry this."

Kate had been the only person on the team who knew the friendship that had been growing into more than Caitlin knew how to put into words. Kate could also see, Cait was very much at fault for what happened but knows how much Caitlin keeps in her head and shouldn't shoulder this right now.

Once you are taken through the tunnel - everyone does the best they can to regroup from the traumatic scene that had just taken place.

Your team was trying to regroup as they had to make adjustments on the court after losing their star player, also just trying to remain composed after seeing and hearing you go down. Kate was trying to get Caitlin to calm down and get her head back in the game. The crowd at this point remained silent until play resumed.

Your team lost to Iowa by 4 and no one could blame them. It was a hard loss but everyone was more concerned what the outcome of your injury would be over the ending of March Madness.

Once you were taken back, they decided it would be best to take you to the ER to get checked out. Shortly after arriving, they determined it was a transverse patella fracture which meant your patella broke into two and it would require surgery to fix if you ever wanted to play again. It was a no-brainer.

The next few days were a whirlwind for you - they kept you in the hospital as they prepped for the surgery and you started recovery after.

Your team came to visit and took turns rotating so you wouldn't be alone. Your manager thought it would be best to stay off of social media which you didn't argue with one bit. The last thing you needed was someone saying how your career was over. You went so far as to get a secondary phone and phone number just to communicate with the team and your family.

Once you were let go from the hospital to recover at home, you finally got your phone back and it was filled with messages. You scanned through them stopping at the one that caught your attention the most.

Phone in hand, you stared at the dozens of missed calls and messages from Caitlin. You clicked into her messages and began to read about how sorry she was and how she wanted you to let her know when you were home. You fought with yourself to listen to all of the voicemails she had left and settled on listening to the last.

You click on it and bring your phone up to your ear.

"Hi," she sounds completely defeated. "I know I have left you countless voicemails but I just really want to see how you are doing. This was never meant to happen - I...I don't know what was supposed to happen but it was not this." You hear the shakey breath that she takes before continuing. "I don't want to keep bugging you if you don't want to talk to me. If I were you, I wouldn't even be listening to this and would have just deleted it but I know you are better than I am and just pray that this gets to you. That this gets to you before any of the media gets to you or spins the story into something it's not. Not that you owe me anything, but I ask that you don't listen to any of it. Don't do that to yourself because none of it is true. It is all lies that they have spun to their own narrative." She is crying now but does the best she can to cover it up. "This was never supposed to happen, I am so sorry." She struggles out and hangs up.

You imagined the first handful of messages were similar to this one and decided not to listen to them. It wasn't out of anger or resentment but you knew that in order for you to move on you couldn't hang on that moment.

The next few months consisted of recovery. You were determined to come back for your senior year and were going to come back stronger and more prepared than you have ever been. When the season started - you were back to training but weren't jumping back into games until the third week into the season.

Your manager did a really good job of keeping you out of the media - per your request leading up to the season. The first time you were brought back into the light was during your team's first game of the season. You were on the bench - coaching and encouraging your team. It wasn't the first time the media had seen you but the first time they got to talk to you. There were preseason training videos that were released that showed you back in practice but always highlighted other players on your team.

During this first game though, you were going to be mic'd up for a midgame interview.

"We are so excited to have you on the air as your team kicks off the season, can you give us insight on how recovery went for you?"

They were really just jumping in. You let out a little laugh and proceeded to answer the question.

"I am excited to be back - recovery was not easy and challenged me in more ways than I expected it would but I can honestly say it has grown me in more ways than playing would have." You say as your eyes are glued to the game happening in front of you. "That a way Tessa! Get back get back!" You yell to your team.

"We got word that you will be back on the court in a few weeks, are you excited to be playing for your senior year?" Was asked next.

"Of course. I have been itching to get back on the court - YES PAOPAO! AND ONE! - sorry, yes I am ready to get back out there and help my team on the court. We have a single mission and are ready to conquer." You say.

"Does that one mission have anything to do with Caitlin Clark?" One of the anchors asks, curiosity getting the best of them.

You take a second to compose your answer.

"I wish nothing but the best for the girl. She has really elevated the game and visibility of women's sports in general. If our paths cross again, which I can see happening - there are no ill intentions." You say and then give your exit, going back to the game.

Caitlin was watching and couldn't stop replaying the video. You never responded to any of her messages - even the ones that came further along in your recovery. You had cut her off knowing it was what you needed. She couldn't blame you but really wanted to pick up where the two of you left off - during your time of not talking she realized how much she wanted you in her life. You were one of the only people she met with the same mentality as she had and could share in the craziness that the media spat out. You brought out the best in her without even being in the building.

Cait watched you for what felt like the hundredth time and really hoped that your paths would cross this season.

Both of your teams went the whole season without playing the other. This only built the tension for the NCAA tournament. You had jumped seamlessly back in with your team and contributed to their undefeated season. Caitlin and the Hawkeyes fought hard coming back for redemption. As the tournament heightened and both of your teams kept winning - the media kept circulating articles about the faceoff everyone has been waiting a year to see, Caitlin and you on the court again.

Right before the Final Four - videos of your injury circulated again and pitted Caitlin as the villain in this completely made-up narrative. When hearing them - it took everything in you to not reach out to her. Everyone was telling you not to talk to anyone about Caitlin. Your manager also strongly advised you to not make any contact considering everything was under a microscope.

You did really well until you saw that Iowa was playing UConn in the final four. You had been friends with Paige for years now and knew they were ready to take on Iowa but something in your heart was rooting for Caitlin.

The morning of the Iowa v. UConn game you did it. You pulled out your phone and sent a quick message. It was a simple text but carried more weight than just the words present - it was the first contact you had initiated since before your injury.

Caitlin was still in her apartment when she got the message. She was straightening her hair with cameras on her for a documentary coming out on ESPN. She puts her straightener down and picks up her phone, trying not to show the message's effect on her knowing she was being recorded. Looking at the phone for longer than needed her eyes were glued to it.

[Other half: You got this.]

She doesn't know how to respond but she wants to. As she is thinking through how, her phone rings. It's Kate. She answers and quickly makes her way out of her apartment knowing she is picking up Kate before heading to the stadium.

Caitlin didn't mention the text she had gotten - not that she could mention anything with the camera crew still present but her mind was going crazy.

The Hawkeyes went in and took UConn by two points, sending them back to the championship and facing off SC in the championship. The face-off every sports fan has been waiting for.

The celebration was grand but Caitlin's mind kept wandering back to how she was going to respond to you.

When she was finally able to make it back to the locker room, she sat and responded to you.

[CC: Can we meet up after we play?]

Caitlin sent it and sort of regretted asking but she wanted to talk to you face to face. You responded faster than she had expected.

[Other Half: Yes]

The championship game comes faster than everyone anticipated. Both teams preparing for one final game. Up to this point - you alongside a Kamilla had committed to the draft. From Iowa - Caitlin had made her statement saying she was going to the draft. Both of you know this last game is a significant one. It would be the last of your college career.

The game is a crazy one - buckets exchanged with the leads fluctuating between your team and hers. At final buzzard it was your team that came out on top.

The celebration was epic as you saw Caitlin and her team make their way to their locker. Pictures were taken and confetti was thrown. When things begin to die down you see Caitlin emerge from the tunnel looking for something. You have an idea that she is looking for you and are proven right when she spots you, nervously making your way to you.

When she approaches you - the two of you nod to one another saying little good jobs. The amount of cameras surrounding you is insane as they get the content of you two together.

You want to put this college feud behind you as you both head into the W so in one swift movement, you remove your jersey. Caitlin takes the hint and does the same leaving you both in your undershirts.

You pass your jersey to her and she does the same with you. You both hold them up and let the media get all the photos they want of the two of you. Once you are done, you pull her in for a hug.

"Meet me in the coach's room," you whisper in her ear. She nods and the two of you part.

You finish the celebration and interviews and head back to grab your stuff. Before heading out, you make your way to meet Caitlin.

When you get there you see a girl sitting in a chair, looking down at her hands as she picks at her nails. She doesn't hear you enter but looks up when you close the door. She immediately stands and makes her way to you not really knowing what to say.

You look at her and pull her into a hug. You never said it but you missed her more than anything.

"I am so sorry," she says, her words muffled as they are spoken into your neck.

"Stop apologizing." You tell the girl in your arms.

"It was all my fault - I was mad and didn't realize my strength when I went up. You were out because of me and I will never forgive myself for that," she says not wanting to let you go.

"Caitlin lighted up on yourself." You say and pull away to look her in the eyes. "If I am honest, I blamed you at first. I was upset and frustrated and blamed you. But as time went on, I realized I only had myself to blame. You were playing the game - I would have done the same exact thing. As I was recovering - I started to be thankful for what had happened because it forced me to grow up. No one likes to be injured but I wouldn't be who I am today if I didn't have that time."

Caitlin nods along to everything you say. You bring your fingers to wipe away the tears that fall.

"If anything I should be the one apologizing," you say and Caitlin shakes her head from side to side.

"No, you have nothing to apologize for."

"I do, I cut you out and I shouldn't have. I am sorry." You say. "Friends?" You ask sticking your hand out in a joking manner.

She takes your hand and shakes it. "Friends." She confirms.

The next week is a whirlwind as the two of you part ways to get ready for the draft. You two talk at least once a day trying to figure out what the next chapter of your lives could possibly look like.

When the night finally comes, it is more than you can imagine. Seeing so many congregate to highlight the sport and get ready for another great season while welcoming the new rookies is something you will never forget.

Caitlin is picked first - heading to the Indiana Fever. You could not be more excited for her. You were mentally prepared to head to the Phoenix Mercury or the New York Liberty.

It comes as a complete shock when you are picked by the Indiana Fever as well. You head up to the stage and go through your initial interview.

As you make your way back - you barely get to the hall before you see someone running up to you. Before you know it, Caitlin is in your arms. Her body is flush against yours as her arms wrap around you, squeezing you with everything she has. You lift her off the ground and squeeze her right back.

You could care less about who is watching - the only thing running through your mind is that you are about to spend the next four years with the girl in your arms.

When you place her on the ground she doesn't let you go but rather buries her face into your neck. You smile and let her hug you for as long as she wants.

It's in this moment that things begin to stir inside you. Your heart swells and you feel whole. Your hand comes up to hold the girl's head. There is no way the two of you are just friends and this moment solidifies that for you.

Weeks pass after the draft and you are getting situated in Indiana. You and Caitlin decided to find an apartment together.

The night of the draft the two of you found your way back to each other after going your separate ways to celebrate. That is when Caitlin admitted to having feelings for you dating back to your sophomore year of college. You sat there in complete awe of the girl and admitted that you had just recently realized your feelings for her but could probably date it to your recovery. From then on the two of you decided to take it slow - knowing how the media has been towards the two of you up to this point.

That sort of flew out the window when she asked you to find an apartment together when you both moved to Indy. And you were sure as hell glad she did.

After four years of the media pitting the two of you against each other, you were finally able to change the narrative. You were no longer rivals but now the new power team ready to take on the W.

AN: Tried to get a little of everything in here, I hope you enjoyed it! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark concepts #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark masterlist #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb #wnba #wnba basketball

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onlymingyus · 19 hours

Text

give it to me (teaser)

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, toxic, fluff

summary; From the outside looking in your life is perfect. It's the perfect ones who are the most fucked up and have the most to lose, or so you thought.

dark/content warnings; murder, kidnapping, talk of abuse, talk of solicitation, illusion to sexual abuse, wonwoo is not a nice guy for a large part of this fic -- hitman!wonwoo, kidnapper!wonwoo, ransom negotiations, corrupt business world, seedy gang/mob underworld, crying (pain and mental pain), depression, fucked up family dynamics, yn has parents/parent death mentioned, police, dead bodies, blood, guns, lying, eating/drinking -- i am sure there is more, this fic can be a lot. please consider the warnings before you read.

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (m receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), olfactophilia/mysophilia (panty sniffing), grinding, petnames

w/c; 22k and some change (980~ bonus on patreon only) (740~ this teaser)

a/n; thank you to my @onlyhuis for proofreading this for me! i know i am on a dark fic kick. thank you all for going along on this ride with me -- perhaps you might catch some easter eggs 🤫 -- i really hope you enjoy this one.

this fic will be released 6/15 at 3 pm est to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

Rubbing at the mascara drying on your fingers, you feel the car come to a stop. Wonwoo sighs, his brows furrowing as he looks around at the empty parking garage and finally back at you. You hadn’t spoken since he had started driving, but he wasn’t complaining. He could hear you crying, your pathetic little whimpering as he drove, but that had been the most of it. You had been resigned to what was happening. You had been “a good girl,” and Wonwoo could give you a bit of credit for that.

“Home sweet home, Y/N.”

Looking up, you furrow your brows at the sight around you. This parking garage had clearly not been used in years, probably closer to a decade. The building itself is probably in similar, if not worse, condition. There was nothing about this that you wanted to call home, but as Wonwoo opened his door and moved to yours, opening it, the gun pointed in your direction, and you knew you didn’t really have much of a say.

“Wh–why are you doing this? Did my father not pay you enough?”

Scoffing, Wonwoo sighs, leaning back against the door as he waits impatiently for you to gather the train of your tight dress and slide towards him.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart. Isn’t that what all those degrees on your office wall are for?”

Your stomach twists at Wonwoo’s words as your high heels unsteadily meet the uneven concrete of the garage. Reaching out with his free hand, Wonwoo tugs you upward and keeps your body against his, letting the barrel of his gun rest against your abdomen as he walks with you.

“This is ridiculous, Wonwoo. You’re throwing your life away, and for what? A paycheck—”

Scoffing at your words, Wonwoo cuts you off with a look as he kicks open a heavy door to the stairwell. Obviously, the elevator wouldn’t work in a building like this. You whine at the idea of the stairs in your heels, your eyes searching Wonwoo’s as he shakes his head and digs the gun into your side.

“You’re the one who’s ridiculous. You look ridiculous and you are acting pathetic. Walk!” Raising his voice, Wonwoo feels your body jerk in his arms before you do as he says and move forward up the stairs. “This isn’t about some stupid ass security job. This is about your daddy, and him paying for you. I was hired to take you, Princess.”

You feel your knees buckle. Wonwoo’s fingers dig into your arm, lifting you back up as he rolls his eyes at your reaction. He figures you are playing the role of the grief stricken daughter, but in reality, you are fighting the urge between laughing and crying. Your father? Paying for you? Who was stupid enough to think that he would?

Using his shoulder, Wonwoo pushes open the door to one of the many rooms before letting you stumble inside in front of him. You look around, your brows furrowing in confusion and you feel some disgust at the sight in front of you. You weren’t sure what you had expected. The rest of the building hadn’t given you the impression that any of the apartments would be in good condition, so seeing it firsthand shouldn’t be surprising.

“Welcome home.”

You give Wonwoo a look of contempt, making him laugh as he gestures towards a dusty couch with his gun. You didn’t want to sit on the couch. The first thought in your head was that the dress you were wearing cost thousands of dollars and that cleaning it would cost hundreds, but the look in Wonwoo’s eyes made you take a step in its direction.

“He won’t pay you any money for me. If—listen, Wonwoo... if you let me go, I can pay you the money myself.”

Sighing, Wonwoo lifts his free hand to his brows, rubbing hard as he watches you. He could see you hesitating to sit down. The way you were brushing at the couch with your fingers only to rub them together as if you were in pain. When you finally sit down, you look stiff and struggle to not let any of your skin touch the dusty material under you.

“Doubt this is about what you can offer, sweetheart. Get comfortable, you are going to be here for a while. So stop acting like you are going to get the plague from some dust.”

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #wonwoo angst #wonwoo toxic #wonwoo fluff #seventeen toxic #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #svt toxic #svt fluff #svt angst #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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acotarxreader · 3 days

Text

Other Worlds part Two

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Angst, super fluff, my silliest wordplay

A/N: You guys! Welcome to part 2, I'm so so happy you gave so much love to the first part (which was meant to be a oneshot but ye said no!) and I hope you are ready to tolerate even more of my silliest carry on! Let me know what you think (I hope you love it just as much as part 1).

Part 1

---------------------------

“So then what happens?”

“So then Marley di-lives happily ever after”

“Wow, that’s a great story YN" You offer a smile to Elains kind eyes as the two of you lounge in the front room of River House, awaiting the rest of the group. You had been in the Prythian for almost a month and had found your way with great help from Azriel, teething problems aside.

“I’m just gonna get a drink from the kitchen, want anything?” Elain shook her head as you left for a cup of your favourite floral tea, growing tired of waiting for the others.

“We are going to be late, I swear to Taylor Swift those males better hurry up!” Feyre rushed into the room, haphazardly buckling her shoe before collapsing on the couch alongside her sister.

“Who’s Taylor Swift?”

“YN said she’s like their God of war and karma” Elain nodded in understanding, eyes landing back on the small coffee table in front of them.

“Do you think YN will be okay visiting Hewn City?”

“What do you think is keeping our lovely friends so long? They’re arguing about it upstairs” Feyre sighed.

“Amren is really not going to be happy with this when she comes back from her travels”

“Yes but Elain, have you ever seen Az so happy?” Elain exhaled in agreement before you re-entered the living room to your new best friends. The three of you spent another half an hour before the three males arrived on the scene from Rhysand’s office.

“How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence, are we ready to go now?” You say with a sarcastic drawl as Azriel places a gentle kiss on the top of your head before sinking into the plush chair across from you.

“Cass your hair looks different, so shiny?”

“Thank you for noticing Elain, YN has taught me the so-called curly girl/Illyrian method” he beamed with pride that you matched before you turned your attention back to Rhysand.

“Cass and I are going to go ahead with Feyre, we don’t think you’re quite ready for Hewn City YN”

“Correction Rhys, Hewn City isn’t ready for YN” Cassian laughed back, you looked between the two males before looking to Azriel’s soft gaze as he rested his elbows off his knees, head on a hand. He gave a small smile before leaning back fully into the chair, the room silent momentarily.

“This was your idea wasn’t it?” Azriel feigned offence, hand on his chest before giving a small huff of air.

“Yes…but YN you’d hate it there”

“So, I hate lots of things and deal with that, like Cassian's outfit right now!” you found your feet again along with your sharper tone.

“Ouch!” Cassian cut across you with a half laugh.

“Sorry Cassian honey sweetie baby, I’m mad at the wrong bat” Cassian folded his arms across his chest, he too hated his Hewn City clothes but he nodded in acceptance of your apology.

“I understand YN, I even wore the boots with the shoelaces you like!”

“Oh, the ones from the president?” you gave a small laugh to yourself.

“Yeah!.....Whatever that means” Cassian furrowed his brow in thought.

“Anyways, I’m going to Hewn City with you guys!”

“YN, it's really not like here-”

“So? I want to see the whole of Prythian and I don’t want to beg you to take me anywhere” Feyre’s head shot towards her mates at your somewhat desperate tone, a knowing look shared between the two.

“She’s coming” Rhysand and Feyre said in unison, gaining a shocked expression from both you and Azriel.

-------------------------

That was the end of it, the group was on its way, Azriel sulking for the duration of the journey. The air was knocked out of you at the full scale and odd sense of beauty at Hewn City, it had a different kind of charm to it than Velaris, one that was much less obvious. You felt the group's easy-going nature completely dissolve as you crossed the threshold of a large ballroom-like space where Feyre and Rhysand held court.

You walked at the rear of the group alongside Elain, her timid deamour growing tenfold, your eyes traced the crowd all bowed to the ground before your eyes landed on the back of Azriel and Cassian ahead of you. The whole sight made you feel ill, an entire world away from your realm or even how the residents of Velaris acted.

You felt the cool familiar touch of Azriel’s shadows trace along your lower back in soothing circles easing you into the new harsh environment. You fought back a laugh when the room sank lower to the ground as Rhysand and Feyre entered, the idea of bowing to Rhysand was humorous to you but the somewhat goofy demeanour you so regularly saw from him, completely evaporated.

You sat to the side of the dais while the High Lord and Lady discussed various topics of the Court, Azriel fighting every bone in his body not constantly to check you over to make sure you were okay.

“I’m going to get a drink” You slipped from your chair and down the stone steps, leaving Nesta and Elain to debate book characters. You pushed away the feeling of Azriel’s eyes burning into your back as you reached a group of staff. One reached out an almost rattling hand towards you with the tray and you smiled, she remained unable to reach your eye.

“Thanks…nice party huh?” You raised an eyebrow when she didn’t reply to you, the others seemingly also nervous.

“I used to be a waitress at this fancy restaurant, I get how it feels to be suffocated by pompous energy like the kind that comes from Rhysand” you offered jokingly, her eyes darting to yours in surprise before snapping back forward, her slight tremble growing.

“Ah and who are you lovely creature?” Your head whipped around to a tall, broad male with golden hair and deep brown eyes that examined you with fine focus. He outstretched a hand to yours and you took it reluctantly, something twisting in your stomach.

“Keir, Steward of the Night Court”

“YN, newest stray of the Night Court” You gave a sarcastic smile, moving to go past him, his grip tightening on your hand.

“Oh YN, please stay and chat” He placed his empty glass harshly down on the vibrating server’s tray, throwing the balance of the silverware. You flinched at the feeling of the golden bubbly liquid covering your dress. The sound of the smashing fine crystal and the female dropping instantly to the floor to try to recover from the dire situation drew eyes from all over the room.

“Oh fuck” You jumped back slightly before bending down to help the panicking fae, Keir’s grip on your wrist harshened further, pulling you back up.

“Disgraceful scum” he spat downwards at the female before snapping his fingers. Two giant guards seemingly appeared from nowhere to haul her to her feet and drag her back, she shouted slightly in pure terror, only to be smacked across the face by a guard.

“What the fuck?!” Fury rising in your eyes, Azriel began to make his way through the commotion.

“I know YN, she ruined your lovely dre-”

“Not her, prick! You! Where the fuck do you get off treating people like that?”

“I beg your pardon” his face darkened, his grip burning into your wrist, you swore you could feel the joint rearranging itself. It suddenly lessened as Azriel finally met your side and you yanked your arm downward away from him entirely.

“Keir, YN didn’t mean-”

“Eh yes YN did mean it” you bit back at the Spymaster before storming away from the two males, the room’s volume swelling back to full volume as if this was a normal occurrence.

You marched out of the decadent building and into the streets of the Court of Nightmares, stumbling slightly in the long midnight blue dress that clothed you. You hiked up the dress slightly before continuing to stomp through the streets, gaining a few quizzical glances from the residents. You were struck by the difference of character that occupied the course of your path, the slightly crumbling infrastructure, a stark difference to the building you just left.

“YN, there you are, it's not safe to be out here alone” Azriel jogged to your side, collecting his uncharacteristic panicked expression before you faced him.

“This place…this place...”

“I know YN, it’s its own beast”

“But it's under Rhysand and Feyre’s control?” he nodded in confirmation.

“So they could fix it right?”

“It's a bit more complicated than that YN”

“How!? There seems to be endless wealth at home” Azriels heart warmed at the word home, the thought of you feeling so comfortable in his world filling him with pride.

“It… it's just how it's always been” he offered softly, reaching for your hand, a dark ring of marbling growing across your wrist joint, Azriel’s eyes bore into the marking.

“He hurt you”

“Az, he’s just an asshole, I’m more concerned about that girl” he ran a thumb over the maroon, Cassian landing alongside you both.

“Come on we’re leaving, Nesta is bored and I want to keep learning that Hot-to-Go dance” you let a slight laugh leave you as he made the shapes of letters with his arms, Azriel still unable to tear his eyes away from your wrist.

“Bring YN home, I’ll follow you” he didn’t give you much of a choice as he dissolved into shadows.

—--------------------------------------

The group sat around the dining room table in the Town House, all in the usual state of exhaustion that a trip to Hewn City brought about, Azriel noticeably absent.

“I just don’t know how you can all just pretend that place doesn’t exist” you cut into the wearied silence, the Inner Circle pushing their dinner around their plates.

“YN...” Rhysand’s tone was warning as he took a sip from his glass of wine.

“I mean Feyre how can you just sit here and-”

“YN!” Rhysand barked again and you sat back in your chair, dropping your fork and entering a staring contest with the High Lord of Night.

“You were outraged at the tits in Spring Court but this you accept!?” you continued on, Mor choked out a laugh through the sip of wine she drank.

“Tithe YN, the tithe” Cassian gently corrected with a wide grin.

“I think she meant what she said, Tamlin was acting like one-” the table hummed in amused agreement to Mor.

“-We’re working on it but it's a gradual process YN” Feyre offered softly, ending Mor's comment before it could continue, her kind eyes softening the edge of anger in you slightly.

“This is why you people need democracy!” you huffed, remembering the look of terror on that fae’s face from earlier.

“What’s that? A swear word?” Rhysand asked genuinely.

“I’m sure to people like you in their ivory tower it is!” you stormed out for the second time that day.

“This house is made of stone, what is she talking about ?I thought we were over her riddle stage” Cassian raised an eyebrow.

—------------------------------------------

You threw yourself down on your giant bed, feeling every bit a part of the problem you took such an issue with. You sat up again, dragging your hands down your face before something caught your eye. You ambled over to the dresser, the deep red of your university sweatshirt sleeve hanging out of the large drawers. Your thumbs ran over the well-worn fabric, and you smiled down at it. Your dress slipped from your shoulders to your ankles and you replaced it with your beloved sweatshirt, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling.

“Hey YN” you span around to Azriel, tugging the end of your sweatshirt down a bit further to cover yourself more.

“Hi Azriel” You said faintly, sitting down cross-legged on the bed. Azriel looked drained, your eyes dropping to his hands coated in a fine layer of crimson.

“Where were you?” you spoke cautiously, Azriel rolling his shoulders before moving into the adjacent bathroom, the sound of his clothes hitting the marble sending an electric shiver through you.

“No one treats you like that” he called out to you, your head tilting. He returned to you in his loose-fitting sleepwear before climbing into the bed, his wings fully relaxing.

You crawled back up the bed to lie the length of him. He looked down at you, rested in the crook of his arm, his wing curling slightly to bring you in further. Your arm traced up his abdomen to rest on his chest until he took the hand, inspecting it again, the maroon having deepened further, if you were honest you were surprised it wasn’t broken.

“Yeah...I’m not finished with him” he placed your hand back down and moved to leave the bed, only to be stopped by your weight on top of him.

“Az it's fine” You laughed, unsure how to handle someone having such unending care for you.

“Rhys told me about dinner-” you groaned at his words after a moment of silence, rolling off of his chest back to his side “-He said he didn’t realise we had adopted a grumpy teenager” he laughed and you hit him in the chest, whilst not taking your eyes from the ceiling above. He kissed the top of your head and you turned upwards to meet his lips, a slight groan of his own leaving him. His mouth tasted of mist and mint and you found it so entirely addictive, he rolled slightly to kiss you further, your hand tracing up his abdomen and across the top of his shoulder.

“I was kidnapped, not adopted” you teased.

“What’s that thing you always say? Flamingo tornado?”

“Tomato, tomato” You laughed fully and he couldn’t help but trace every contour of your face.

“Probably best not to bring up Tamlin around the two of them, although Mor really enjoyed the show”

“Did you ever notice how Tamlin sounds like tampon-” he raised an eyebrow at your words “-nevermind, for another day”

“We have so much to learn from one another” he gave you an excited squeeze.

“I know, I think you would have liked where I'm from"

“Yeah? Do you regret not trying to get back?” you pulled back to look at his face fully, his worried tone coating your ears.

“I miss somethings about home” home, but not you didn’t mean Velaris this time, a twinge of sadness washing over Azriel.

“Like what?”

“Emm coffee, my clothes, college to some degree ehhh tv, I don’t know the shower, people understanding my sense of humour”

“You have a sense of humour?” he smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway Azriel, I happily gave it all up for you, graduation and all” You yawned the words out, rolling into a tight ball against his side.

“You never did that exam so how’d you know you’d have graduated?”

“Wooooooow cold” you laughed into him, eyes closing now. Azriel watched you fall asleep with a smile across your face, his favourite sight, a plot beginning to form in his eyes.

—----------------------------------

You stretched your arm into the empty space in the bed, sitting up on an elbow to look around to find Azriel long gone from your shared space. You threw on a dressing gown around you, your sweatshirt still lovingly clung to your curves. The hallway was mostly quiet when you entered it, only the sound of distant whispers filling the airways.

“Azriel?” You called out from the top of the stairs, the whispering silencing immediately followed by what could only be described as scurrying. You traipsed slowly down the staircase, stopping at the bottom to find Cassian stood in the now almost bare living room, only a single desk and chair alongside him.

“Cassian what the fuc-”

“Eh that’s Mr. Cassian to you Miss!” he spoke with a fake authoritative tone and you could have sworn you heard Azriel whisper that it was a bit overkill.

“Right…is this some kinda sex thing you and Nesta have going on?” you laughed lightly, following your feet into the nearly barren room.

“Well it might become one-” he winked before coughing to clear his throat “-now ehh, sit down for your exam”

“What?” you chuckled as he pulled out the chair for you, gesturing for you to sit so you did. You looked down at the scrap of paper, ‘Physics Final’ scrawled across the top in Feyre’s penmanship. You looked back to Cassian confused and you could tell he was fighting a laugh, you turned the sheet over to find one question scribbled across the breadth of the page.

“What is physics?” You laughed the words aloud, Cassian's hand banging off the desk in front of you.

“No talking during the exam!” he barked before covering his mouth to shield his laugh.

“Right… well you didn’t give me something to write with Sir” you said sarcastically.

“Oh I like it when you call me Sir-” a shadow bolted into Cassian's chest, knocking him back slightly “-okay okay sorry, busybody!….emm just tell me the answer then”

“Okay well very broadly, physics is the science of matter, motion, and energy”

“Emm sure let's go with that, congratulations!” he pulled you up from the chair by the arm and through the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house, your laughs of utter confusion filling the hallway.

“Surprise! It’s your graduation!” You hand covered your mouth in astonishment, your new family stood with their arms up around the kitchen island, a large cake sitting in the middle of them, banners and streamers covering every surface. Azriel passed a large bunch of flowers into your hand, kissing the top of your head as he did so, the whole scene bringing tears into your eyes.

“Oh no did we do it wrong?”

“I told you that question was too difficult!” Nesta snapped towards Feyre but you cut her off before she could refute her sister.

“No no you guys this is absolutely perfect, Jesus Christ-”

“I think another one of her friends, potentially related to Xanax?” Cassian whispered to Mor at the sight of her confusion.

“-this is everything” You ignored Cassian, hugging Azriel tightly.

“And because now you’ve graduated, you’re getting a job!” Feyre beamed and you turned to face her, Azriels arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Yes, I have been thinking a lot about our…discussion yesterday YN and I’m sorry, you’re right, we aren’t doing enough and so, we would love it if you could help us to level the playing field throughout our Court. We’ll set up an office there for you and perhaps begin distributing our resources better. Azriel…took care of Keir so he won’t be an issue, what do you think?” Rhysand seemed almost nervous making the offer, it instantly melting from him when you nodded in agreement. Cassian practically jogged to your side, your favourite mug outstretched in his hand.

“Oh and, I made you this!” You exchanged the flowers for the mug with a smile, it faltered slightly when you looked to find a thick brown sludge coating the inside of the crockery.

“Ehhh”

“It’s coffee! Or at least my understanding of what coffee, bean water right?” you looked from the mug to his face that radiated pure pride.

“Emm yes Cassian thank you I love it!” you lied through your teeth and felt Azriel shake with laughter from behind you, your elbow shooting back into his stomach.

“Actually, Azriel you can have the first sip”

“Oh no no YN, I couldn’t-”

“I insist” you turned, passing it into his scarred hand. His gaze bounced from your smug face to Cassian’s eager one as he gulped before taking a small sip of the slush. He fought every instinct to spit it back out.

“Lo-lovely Cass thank you” he managed, putting the mug out of arm's reach, Cassian turning back to cut up the cake.

The group hummed with laughter, unadulterated happiness radiating and you looked around at each of them with such an overwhelming sense of home. You looked to Azriel, who had the same expression you had when looking at his family that he had when he looked at you.

“Look at our family YN” he said so only you could hear, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck, his going to your hips.

“I’m so glad I fell into this world”

“Fell from the sky like an angel” you tilted your head back with almost a disgusted groan at his cheesy words only gaining a laugh from the Spymaster.

“I should have just risked going into the snow that night”

“I would have followed you, I will follow you anywhere, from this world, into the next”

-------------------------------

Whatcha think?

Tags (which for some reason is working intermittently): @phoenix666stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @dreamscourtgirl @gabby234lopez @chairofchaos @ariaaira

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yandere-sins · 3 days

Text

I played Jiyan's quest today and I can't stop thinking about being Yandere!Jiyan's dirty little secret...

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content (dub-con), Dragon Behavior (a little bit like fangs, biting and snarling), Mention of war and all that comes with it, Stockholm Syndrom Reader]

Everyone got one of those, right? Some people overindulge in sweets, and some gamble 'just one more game' while their pockets are empty. But for someone like Jiyan, who is seen as great and respectable in the public eyes—a person who can do no wrong—it's you.

You are the dirtiest secret one could hope to never uncover behind the beloved general. It would be hard to turn a blind eye to your situation, so he does his very best so that no one finds out about it. You are only destined for his eyes, a splendid gift of Jué for sure. Why else would your paths have crossed, your fates intertwining as cruelly yet beautifully as they did?

You are hidden away in his mansion, locked up, and put through a very different hell than what he goes through. He loves you; he really does. That's why you can't leave. Never. You're the one thing that keeps him grounded in this world, the last spark of hope that keeps his sanity from accidentally killing himself on the battlefield as he realizes there's nothing more to fight for.

Jiyan doesn't return to his mansion to live in splendor and the luxuries of life. He only comes home to you.

You are not a willing participant in this secret of his. Not even the few servants he permits around him know of you. Everything must be under wraps and he used his salary as a general wisely to build you a palace that can house his madness in a beautifully twisted way. It's an illusion of the outside world, with technology and science providing the idea of being a little less captured and a little more free. And Jiyan doesn't regret spending every penny to keep up the illusion of being your lover, not your captor.

This way, he can ensure your safety and well-being far away from other people despite him being outside, fighting dangerous threats, and risking his life daily. He can ensure that you'll be fed and entertained for a long time after his death, and no one finding out long after your passing either. But he doesn't even think of this possibility. Not when he's the only one you can cling to.

Being isolated does something to one's psyche, and that's the one thing Jiyan cannot improve for you—and at this point, he doesn't want to anymore. Everyone outside the underground palace is a foe when it comes to you. They'd try to take you away from him. And after just shy of a couple of years of being imprisoned, he finally has you broken down enough that you won't fight his love constantly anymore.

Instead, you walk up to him as he finally returns, weeks having turned into months. But with no one else to give you attention and love, you open your arms to him, worn-out and bloody as he is. Your body is tense and wary, with a frown on your face, but when he moves forward, so are you. Both of you are so desperate for what only the other can give.

You let him sack into your embrace and allow him to reciprocate your hug, always just a little too tight for your comfort. It feels revolting to hold him even after all this time. Still, you claw your fingers into his clothes as if he were going to disappear again any second. He reeks of sweat, blood, and dirt, but you tolerate it, and he is ever so thankful for you loosening his hair tie and combing through his hair. It's the end of stress and despair for Jiyan. You are ringing in the peace into his life, and he wants to stay like this forever, but another part is threatening to take him over.

He had to hold back for so long, yearning and exercising patience. Now, the beast inside of him is starving.

He can't help but lose his composure a little, burying his face in your chest and smelling you like an animal. His snarls reverberate throughout your whole body, like the purrs of a cat, the need for you building rapidly inside of him. Fangs protrude from his lips as he drags them over your shoulder, searching for the taut skin above your collarbone to sink them into you. Your blood tastes sweet and exciting instead of the bitter and impure blood on his lips whenever he worries them in the barracks, thinking of you. You squirm, complain, wiggle—a part of you still resisting. But if he wants to have a taste of you, then there's nothing you can do unless you want him to accidentally rip your throat out. He's proving you're real—not another damn hallucination—and he licks up the wounds with fervor, knowing you are alive and well after having your taste spread over his tongue.

Jiyan loves the pouty look on your face when he topples you over, catching your arms with his hands. He chuckles as you resist vainly, his grip leaving the prettiest of bracelets made of bruises on your wrists. The last ones have already faded and tears well up in your eyes as he replaces them dutifully. He knows you don't want to spread your legs for him, your body resisting that until the bitter end, so he picks you up instead, carrying you to the bath to ease the tension you're feeling. He needs it, too, and Jiyan licks his lips as the sweet release of all his pent-up feelings draws near.

Your moans resemble a song of healing as they echo through the bathroom, filling the space with all the love and adoration he gives you. Jiyan worships the way your body twists in his grip, tightens around his cock, and lets him know the extent of how good he is making you feel. His thrust may be harsh, and your mouth may be begging for him to stop mistreating both your lips and body as he mauls you like a Spearback, water splashing everywhere as you two get rowdy in the bath, but you can't resist orgasm after orgasm shaking through you, your belly full of his warm seed. It takes a while to satiate Jiyan, but just like you took care of him when he returned, he washes your exhausted body afterward and takes you to bed to pepper you in kisses and to stroke you some more until you are a bawling, beautiful mess coming completely undone in front of him. There need to be no secrets, no shame between you two, and your beauty is unrivaled, especially after seeing you again after so many nights imagining this very sight in front of him.

It solidifies his life's worth when he can watch you sleep, bundled up and frowning since you are so sore. He wipes the tears from your face as you have nightmares of being alone and being with Jiyan. But hearing you say his name in your sleep—regardless in which context—is enough for him to finally settle into the soft pillows too. One arm around you, the other one for you to rest your head on. Because just like you'll never escape this prison, Jiyan won't let you be anywhere but next to him as long as he's home.

He falls asleep with dreams of domesticity. Cooking with you, feeding you dessert, taking walks in a park he'll never take you to. Massaging you, sharing your woes, and cuddling in front of the fireplace. A life he will never ever have with you, but which has kept him from death so many times. Knowing you were at home, waiting for him, angry, pouty, trying to scratch his eyes out, but you were safe and healthy, saved him from the despair of losing everyone he ever cared about in this cruel war. Your blood reminds him of life rather than death, and the warmth of your body in his arms is the comfort he needs after the endless cold nights outside of this dream he built for you.

So Jiyan doesn't even think about everything of yours that he sacrificed to get to this point. You'll be his dirty little secret forever, and he'll make sure of it no matter how many discords or people he has to kill or how much he needs to break you to make this possible. He can't continue living like the hero people make him out to be if he can't have you to compensate for his madness. Isn't it a fair price? Jiyan wouldn't know what to do with all the despair and anguish if he couldn't turn it into love. Jiyan isn't sure he could stop himself from and fight against becoming what he fears most—a mad monster.

He has yet to realize that, beneath his mansion, sleeping peacefully next to you, he has long lost that battle.

But it's his dirty little secret no one on the outside needs to know.

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wsoc-gay · 1 day

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World Cup Results III

Part 1 Part 2

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: The rest of Ona's pregnancy.

A/N: And I present to you over 7000 words of pure fluff. Please enjoy and as always leave your requests in my asks!

You and Ona stayed in England with your family until two days after Christmas. You loved getting to go home, you didn’t see your parents often now that you live so far, so every time you get to go home you embrace the time there. However, this time your mom and two older sisters were busy fussing over Ona to pay you much mind. Both of your sisters already had kids so while you were entertaining your nieces and nephews, they were fussing over how the baby of the family was finally going to expand her family.

You loved how much your family loved Ona, they have since you introduced them when you were 18. This love only grew when you and Ona had called them after the first ultrasound. The time in England was well spent but went by quickly and before you both knew it you were back in Spain spending the remainder of your break in Ona’s hometown.

Spending time with Ona’s family went much the same as seeing your family had. Her parents were overjoyed when they heard the news about their first grandbaby and were excited to finally have time with their daughter. You both loved getting time to spend with your families and were upset when it was time to return to your normal life.

Now officially fifteen weeks along Ona was done with matches but was still allowed to train non-contact. The club discussed with you and Ona that a statement needed to be made surrounding her absence from the team sheet and together you settled on saying Ona suffered an ankle injury during training and would be out for an unknown period of time.

You both knew eventually you wouldn’t be able to hide it from the public but agreed you wanted to keep it out of the public eye for as long as you could.

---

Saturday rolled around and it was the day of your gender reveal. You and Ona had originally agreed that you didn’t want to have a party and make a big deal of it, but Mapi and Ingrid were not letting that happen. Ingrid wanted to celebrate the baby, but Mapi took any excuse for a party.

So, now you and Ona were arriving back at your home after being forced out the door that morning by Ingrid insistent on decorating your house. When you walked through the door you both were shocked to see your home coated in blue and pink decorations and your entire team scattered between your living room and backyard.

You took turns hugging your teammates as they began to notice the both of you entering the room. After all the greetings and just spending some time with your teammates enjoying the company Ingrid announced that she had enough of waiting and it was time for the reveal.

She led everyone outside to the table on your porch which had a cake decorated in blue and pink frosting. Ingrid explained that she had the cake filled with either pink or blue frosting and that all you and Ona had to do was cut the cake and show off the color waiting inside.

You and Ona stood behind the cake, one hand on the small of her back and the other placed on her stomach, when she thanked your teammates, “Before we do this, I just wanted to say thank you all for being here and for supporting us as much as you all already have,” She started to tear up clearly emotional from the hormones as you pulled her tighter against your side and her hand covered yours over her stomach, “We’re so lucky that our baby is going to grow up with you all.”

You cut her off before she got too emotional, “Now let’s find out if our baby is going to be Barça men’s or women’s team captain!” Your comment was met with laughs and cheers from your teammates as you looked over to your girlfriend, “You ready to do this?”

She nodded as you picked up the knife together and sliced a piece of the cake being careful not to look down and see the icing covering the knife. You slid the knife under the slice before your teammates began counting down the reveal, “Tres, dos, uno!”

You lifted the slice to reveal the icing inside met with cheers from your teammates and Ona collapsing into your arms, both of them wrapping tightly around her back as hers found the back of your neck.

She whispered into your neck, emotions lacing her voice, “Una niña pequeña.”

You littered kissed all over the side of her head going down to her cheek, “We’re having a baby girl, love,” Ona dropped a hand from the back of your neck to rub against her small bump. You dropped to you knee and took her belly in between your hands and placed small kissed there before whispering against it, “Hola mi nena, te quiero mucho.”

You rose back to your feet and took Ona’s face in between your hands and kissed her passionately. Both of you forgetting of your teammates surrounding you as you were caught up in your own little world.

That was until Alexia spoke up, “A little future Alexia! The future queen of Barça!”

Then broke out some arguments between teammates about who the baby would become as a footballer. You and Ona were greeted by hugs and congratulations from every teammate in attendance, everyone so happy for the little girl on the way.

The party began to settle down and while many of your teammates were still there you and Ona found yourselves sat on your couch, one of your arms wrapped around her shoulders with a hand on her bump, it seemed like your hand hadn’t left the spot since finding out. You kissed the side of her head, “It feels a lot more real now, knowing it’s a little girl.”

The brunette chuckled, “It’s felt very real since I was spending every moment throwing up. Or maybe since I had to run out of training to throw up.”

You laughed, “Yeah, that made it real, didn’t it?”

Ona turned her head to kiss you, “I know what you mean, amor, we’re having a baby girl,” Her hand rubbed circles on her bump, “There’s a little baby girl in there.”

You smiled looking up to think, “Does this mean its officially project-y/l/n?”

She laughed and slapped your thigh, “No, it is project Batlle, she will be an outside back like her Mami.”

You scoffed, “Over my dead body, our baby girl will captain England and Barça at center forward.”

Ona shot up at that and placed a finger on your chest, “Okay, now that is not happening. No child of mine will play for anyone, but Spain.”

You laughed and pulled her back to lay against you, “We will see what she decides when the time comes, love,” You sighed thinking about the future, “I can’t wait for her to all of our matches, seeing her in the stands, our baby girl watching her Mami out there.”

“Her Mami and her Mummy,” You smiled down at her, “Now that we know it’s a girl we’re going to need to start thinking of names.”

You dropped your head back against the couch, “Oh god not names there’s too many of them.”

---

You felt the baby move and kick for the first time when Ona was 20 weeks. Ona had felt her move for the first time at 17 weeks, you were lying in bed when it happened.

Ona had just woken up; you were still sleeping as was usual for you both. She was laying on her side scrolling through her phone when she suddenly felt a slight flutter in her stomach. At first, she thought it was an oncoming of nausea, but when moments later when she felt it again she knew it wasn’t nausea.

She tried ignoring the feeling, but as it kept happening over the next few minutes, she was becoming increasingly worried about the new feeling. This was one she had never felt before and she wasn’t sure if something was wrong with the baby. As she felt the fluttering more her anxiety was increasing.

After a few flutters Ona convinced herself, something was wrong with the baby and in a panic began calling your name, “Y/n, y/n, wake up,” She looked over to you and saw no movement, typical you always have slept like a rock. She began rocking your shoulder in desperate efforts to awake you while repeating the same phrase.

After the third shake you shot up in bed looking over at Ona, who looked terrified with her hands on either side of her stomach, “What’s wrong, Oni? Is it the baby?”

Your hand found its spot on the front of her stomach as you looked at her face with worried eyes, “I don’t know something feels weird,” Her eyes met yours when you noticed the tears beginning to form in hers.

Now you were panicked racking your brain for what could be happening, “What do you mean weird? Should I call the doctor?”

She was still sat in the same position her tears now falling, “I don’t know, it’s like a fluttering,” She looked around the bed panicked, still, “I’m going to call my Mami.”

You nodded your head, “Okay yeah, call her first.”

She grabbed her phone from her side and dialed for her before beginning to pace around the bedroom, “Hola Mami, lo siento por despertarte, pero creo que algo anda mal con el bebé.”

You stood up and took a hold of her free hand to slow her pacing as she focused intently on the call and continued speaking to her mother, “No sé, se siente como un palpitación,” She took a deep breath and a small smile came across her face, “En serio?” You continued looking at her with a confused expression, not being able to hear what the other side of the conversation was. Ona smiled at you and squeezed your hand, to let you know it was okay, “Vale, gracias Mami, te amo mucho.”

She hung up the phone and threw it back to the bed, but wasn’t telling you what happened, “And? What did she say?”

The brunette took one of your hands and placed it flat against her stomach with a smile splayed across her face, “She said I’m feeling the baby move, she’s kicking in there.”

Your jaw dropped and the shocked expression moved into a smile as you leaned into press a passionate kiss to her lips. You dropped to your knee and placed your hands on either side of her stomach, lifting her shirt to place kisses across the small bump, “Hola, mi bebé, you’re really in there kicking aren’t you.”

Ona laced her fingers into your hair as she chuckled at your words, “She’s really in there,” She used her free hand to wipe some of the tears that had fallen, “Oh thank god she is okay in there.”

Ever since that morning every time Ona felt something you raced to place a hand in attempts to feel something. It was slightly disheartening knowing that you still couldn’t feel anything, but you both knew this was nothing abnormal and that as the baby grew you would be able to feel it from the outside.

As training was nearing the end you were playing some small-sided matches, which Ona was no longer allowed to compete in. She was sat on the bench watching when she felt the same fluttering, but stronger this time. She placed a hand to cover the spot of the kicking and thought she slightly felt it from the outside.

Ingrid, who was sat next to her, must’ve noticed the tight nit expression on her face, “Is everything okay, Ona?”

Ona knew if she said the baby was kicking that she’d ask to feel, but she knew you deserved to be the first to feel it so, as hard as it was, she lied to the Norwegian, “Oh yeah, everything’s good, just a little nausea.”

Ingrid gave you a soft smile back replying okay while you sat, excitedly waiting for the end of training, and hoping that the baby would still be kicking.

A few minutes later Jonathan blew his whistle signaling for the end of training and Ona was immediately on her feet running towards you.

You had a confused look on your face as you noticed her running over, “What is it, love?”

She grabbed your hand and put it across the side of her stomach where she was still feeling the small kicks. You still had a confused look on your face as your teammates were all watching you two trying to figure out what was happening.

It took about 30 seconds before you felt it, an ever so slight push against the palm of your hand. Your jaw dropped and you looked up to Ona with wide eyes, “Was that what I think it is?” A smile crossed her face as she nodded and you suddenly wrapped your arms around her waist, lifting and spinning her, before putting her back on her feet and moving you hand back to the spot you felt the kick, “She did it again! Look at her go!”

Ona covered your hand with hers still smiling up at you when Mapi spoke up from behind, “Mind letting us in on what just happened?” Ingrid slapped her arm for clearly interrupting a moment between the two of you.

You turned to face your teammates with the biggest smile on your face, “Our little footballer is in there kicking away!”

Your teammates raced over to you two, but Ingrid was the first there, pushing you out of the way and replacing your hand with her own.

Mapi pulled you away from the chaos and dragged you into a hug. You both turned to look back at your girlfriend as you chuckled, “You might be in trouble with that one,” you said pointing at the smile on Ingrid’s face as she felt the kicking.

Mapi smiled, “She’s been talking about babies non-stop since you guys told us.”

You patted her back, “You know another little Barça baby would be cute, they’d get to grow up together.”

The tattooed Spaniard laughed, “We’ll see in a few weeks if she’s serious about this or if it’s just from watching you two.”

---

Ona was 26 weeks along when you were driving home from training and Ona brought up the idea of announcing the pregnancy to the public. The media team had mentioned to Ona the idea of making an announcement and they were right, it needed to happen sooner rather than later.

Ona was now definitely showing, and the media team was having to make sure no photos of training had her in them. The sudden absence of her from all social media was making media outlets and fans begin to ask questions. Ona’s sudden disappearance as well the “ankle injury” that seemed to be never ending yet absent when she was spotted at matches, didn’t help with the speculations.

You both loved having this little secret out of the public eye and just enjoying the time of you both and your closest friends and families knowing, but you both agreed it was time to go public. Ona was getting sick of having to answer questions about her ankle injury and having to wear baggy clothes to hide her now obvious bump.

There was a match today and you both decided that after you would make a post on Instagram for the announcement but didn’t want to distract from the match by posting something beforehand.

However, you had slight other ideas. You scored in the match that day and knowing that you’d be announcing it that night, shoved the ball under your shirt and sucked on your thumb as your celebration. As you ran back into position you made eye contact with Ona, seeing her sitting above the bench shaking her head at you with a hand resting on her stomach.

The media team shook their heads at you as you danced around the topic of your celebration during interviews and avoided any questions asked about it. After being done with media you assured them you would be announcing it that night and that the club had full permission to release their statement in the morning.

That night Ona laid against your chest as you made a joint Instagram post with a few professional photos you had taken earlier in the week at a local beach. The first, you sat in the sand with Ona between your legs, and your hands wrapped around her resting on her bump; the second, you standing side by side with one hand on the small of her back, and the other placed on her stomach her hand covering yours; the third, the two of you holding up a small Barcelona jersey with “June 2028” written on the back; and finished the post off with the photo of your celebration from earlier that day. You didn’t add a caption to the post, everything having been said in the photos.

The media and fans went crazy over the post, it seeming to be reposted hundreds of times on every site imaginable. Every media outlet reaching out for statements. The club agreed the next day to release their statement and that if you both wanted, they could set up a media conference for you to address it yourselves.

The announcement from the club didn’t cause as big of a stir as your post had made, however, fans were freaking out after the press conference. It was two days after the official statement from the club where you and Ona were sat to answer the media’s questions. Plastered all over social media were clips and photos taken during the meeting. Many of them being moments of you gushing over your girlfriend and future child with a smile splayed across your face.

One moment, however, was shared more than any. One reporter asked Ona why she chose to disrupt her career at what seemed to be her prime, to have a baby. Obviously, you and Ona both agreed that the time was right and had lengthy conversations before about why the timing was right, but hearing the reporter phrase it how they did caused a pit to sink deep in your stomach. You couldn’t help, but feel like you were disrupting her career, that Ona putting everything on hold for this may not have been a good idea.

You were beginning to sweat and tried racking your brain for the best way to answer the question, to defend your family, but no matter what you thought everything turned back to the doubt. That was until Ona spoke up, confidently enough for you to believe she had prepared for this question, “I told y/n that I wanted to have a baby while we were still sitting on the pitch after the World Cup final,” She looked to you with a soft smile, “We had talked about it before, but it always seemed like something in the future for us. But, after that match I felt like I had completed everything I had dreamed of in football. I’ve won two World Cups, multiple Champions Leagues, Domestic Cups, League titles, there isn’t much more in my career I could ask for.”

You leaned on your elbow and raised your hand to address the room, “I would like to say that I told her we could wait until after our careers, and also gave her a month after the World Cup to make sure she didn’t think of this just because of the adrenaline from winning,” Ona chuckled as you reached to grab her hand under the table, “But, when she said she was serious about starting the process I was all in, I cannot wait to start a family with this woman.”

Ona had a smile so big on her face you could see it in her eyes, “I want our kids to be able to watch our careers, I want them to grow up with memories of coming to matches, being around the teams, coming onto the field to celebrate championships with us, and I want to be able to experience that in my career,” She looked and motioned to some of the staff members sat with you, “The club has been incredible, I’ve been working with them throughout the pregnancy since I was no longer allowed to play, and doing everything we can to make the transition and recovery back into football as easy as possible after my maternity leave.”

The club made a few comments on Ona’s current training regiment, which at this point in the pregnancy was non-contact drills with the team and some slightly modified lifts.

The last question was from one of the major sporting outlets, you hadn’t announced the gender of the baby, so it was one of the major questions swarming around, “So, do we have a future captain of Barça Femení or the Men?”

You and Ona hadn’t talked about whether or not you wanted the gender out there before she was born. You didn’t mind either way, but you weren’t sure how Ona felt about the topic, if she wanted to keep that private until she was born. You looked you her and nodded when she made eye contact, letting her know the response was up to her discretion. Her hand rested on the top of her bump, hidden under the table as she smiled, “We won’t force them into anything they do not want to do, we will encourage them to play football, and hope that they will love it the same way we do, however, if they don’t share our passion they won’t be forced into it,” Ona was obviously being cautious with the pronouns she was using, which confused even you, not knowing whether or not she was going to tell them, “But if they do end up having a career like ours, they will be a second-generation Femení player.”

You smiled at her response and jumped to interject, “And the Lionesses!”

Ona swatted at your arm and chucked, “She means España, but that’s long conversation in itself.”

The conference was wrapped up swiftly and as you both walked down the halls of your beloved club, hand in hand, you felt an overwhelming sense of pride bubble up inside you, for both your girlfriend and daughter. Listening to Ona answer their questions with such confidence silenced any worries you previously had about this not being the right time, and any fears you had about Ona possibly regretting the timing later.

A lot of emotions swirled up as you walked down those halls. You had been at this club for quite a few years now, and like Ona had mentioned, won so many titles and shared so many special moments. Your team’s victories as well as one of your Ballon d’Ors sat in display cases on the walls. You had so much pride in this club and in the life you had built here, you couldn’t wait to share it with your daughter one day.

---

Ona was 34 weeks along the week of the Champions League final. The final was being hosted at Wembley and you originally had some hesitations with her traveling so far, this late into the pregnancy.

It was the day before you would travel to the final when you were sat in the doctor’s office awaiting the doctor to come in for your routine ultrasound, and for Ona to ask her to convince you to allow her to accompany you and your teammates for the trip.

Every time you had an appointment to see the baby the morning was full of anxiety sided by excitement. Sitting in the office you were sat in your usual chair besides Ona, your knee bouncing a hundred miles a minute as your thoughts ran. Even though there was nothing to attest that something was wrong with the baby you were always worried going into the ultrasounds that something could have happened.

Ona noticed your nervousness and reached a hand out for you, “Ven aquí, mi amor,” You stood up and walked to stand beside where she laid on the table.

You moved your hand, not being held by Ona, to flatten out her hair, “¿Todo bien?”

She squeezed your hand, desperate to calm your nerves, “We have no reason to believe there is something wrong with the baby, you can calm down.”

You leaned down and pressed your lips to her hairline, “You know I just worry.”

“I know you do, but you don’t have to,” Suddenly Ona felt a harsh kick to her ribs, lifted her shirt to reveal her now large bump, and moved your hand she was holding to cover the area of her stomach being assaulted, “See, your daughter is trying to tell you she is fine.”

You smiled as you looked at Ona and felt the kicks against your hand, “That’s our daughter,” You leaned down to press a kiss to where your daughter currently resides, “Hola mi nena, te quiero mucho. I cannot wait to meet you.”

Ona smiled at the interaction, “But you better stay in there for at least 6 more weeks.”

You remained where you were standing for the next few minutes waiting for the doctor’s arrival. Some of your anxieties lessened due to feeling your daughter move around, but still desperate for someone professional to come in and alleviate all your fears.

The doctor came in and as soon as you could see your little girl on the screen tears came to your eyes, as they did at every ultrasound. You tightly gripped Ona’s hand as you watched your daughter, noticeably bigger than the last ultrasound, kicking around inside your girlfriend.

You smiled as you watched her move around, “My future footballer in there, already training look at her.”

Ona chuckled, but adoringly looked at the screen, “She could relax with her training when I am trying to sleep,” She patted your chest, “You know she may not want to play football and I will not let you force her.”

You laughed and motioned to the screen, “Are you joking, look at her in there. That’s a future Ballon d’Or winner,” Ona sent you a glare, “She will not need to be forced into anything, she already is used to the sounds of a match she will be born with the love of football.”

Ona’s tense expression turned soft, thinking about your daughter being on the outside with you, “Hopefully the matches playing on the tv with sooth her to sleep then.”

Now you were dreaming of the future. Having a match on the tv as you tried your best to stay quiet while your daughter slept on Ona’s chest, her scolding you every time you yelled toward the match being played. You would try your best to keep the mumbling commentary quiet, but your daughter would be far too used to the sound of your voice repeating every movement on the screen.

The doctor confirmed everything was healthy with the baby and your fears slowly drifted away. She noted that the baby was on the larger size, compared to Ona, but this was nothing to worry about with her coming from your eggs and you being quite bigger than the small Spaniard.

The doctor then explained that she was happy to let Ona fly with the team to the final, knowing it would be a quick trip there was nothing to worry about. She confirmed there were no signs to cause early labor and that both her and the baby were completely healthy and cleared for the travel.

That is how you found yourself running off the field as soon as the final whistle blew, straight to where Ona was stood in the stands besides both of your families. You gently helped her over the barricade and down to celebrate with the rest of your teammates. She was sporting a Batlle jersey specifically made for her to wear to this match but was still stretched thin over her noticeable bump.

Having played in the matches during the group stages Ona was able to be recognized that day as a player and as a Champions League winner. You didn’t think you’ve ever been so in love with her as you watched her walk up to receive her medal, the bottom of it gently resting on the top of her bump, one hand on the underside cradling it.

You received your medal and followed to stand beside her as the trophy celebrations began. One arm wrapped around her shoulders as your teammates surrounding you jumping for joy over the excitement of victory. You and Ona were in your own world as you stood together cheering, Ona too uncomfortable to do much jumping. You knew in this moment watching the joy on her face, that this would be a day you would remember for the rest of your life. You, your girlfriend, your soon to be born daughter, being stood on that stage celebrating a Champions League win, technically all three of you having been involved in the tournament.

Hundreds of photos of you were taken after that match, with and without Ona, but the most special had to be you and Ona, foreheads touching, simply lost in each other’s eyes, your hands and her own resting on her stomach, completely lost in the moment. That night you posted to Instagram, one of your team celebrating, the photo previously mentioned, and one of your diving header during the match, closing it off with a simple caption: “Baby’s first Champions League.”

That night your teammates insisted you and Ona join them for the celebrations, you insisted the two of you simply go home and celebrate together, Ona being exhausted and you not wanting her anywhere near a busy club, but Ona said she was up for going for at least a little while. She wanted you to have the chance to celebrate one final trophy before your whole world was turned upside down.

It took a lot of convincing from your girlfriend, but eventually you agreed, after forcing Ona to promise you it would only be quick. As soon as you walked into the busy club, littered with your teammates and their friends and families, you walked Ona over to a table where you planned to stay by her side until your agreed upon time to leave.

What you didn’t expect, however, was to drink quite a bit while sitting at that table. The alcohol in your system caused you to allow Lucy to drag you away from Ona, leaving her with yours and her parents while you were dancing and celebrating all over the club. As time ticked by Ona grew increasingly tired and ended up returning to your home alongside your parents. After a little while and many more drinks you stumbled your way over to the table only to discover the Spaniard missing from her seat.

After it was confirmed, she had been taken home, you were following close behind. Lucy and Kiera lived in the same neighborhood as you so knowing that Lucy had also already had way more than enough to drink, Kiera offered to take you both home.

You insisted on being fine to walk yourself in and Kiera allowed for it, more focused on taking care of her clearly inebriated girlfriend. You stumbled into the house knocking into a few doorways as you made your way to your guest bedroom, even in your current state not wanting to wake up Ona. You knew she had been having trouble sleeping recently so, therefore, you fell into the bed which has not been touched in months.

You must have been louder than you thought because suddenly while you were face down in the mattress you heard a voice coming from the doorway, “What are you doing in here?”

You turned towards the voice to see Ona stood in one of your t-shirts, which normally looked oversized on her now showing off the bottom of her bump, with a glass of water in her hand, “You’re supposed to be sleeping, love.”

She chuckled, but stayed leaned against the door frame, “Well you ran into the wall a few times trying to find this room.”

You rolled onto your back and covered your face with your hands, upset over waking her, “I came in here so I wouldn’t wake you and now that’s exactly what I did. I’m horrible you deserve better.”

Your girlfriend’s heard fluttered hearing how upset you were over waking her. Even in your intoxicated state all you cared about was her, you didn’t go through the kitchen and bang glasses trying to get water, you didn’t crawl into your own bed and accidentally shake her awake, all because you were thinking of her. Ona removed herself from the doorway and walked over to your bedside, running her fingers through your hair, “You did nothing wrong, mi amor, it’s very sweet you came in here simply not to wake me. You’re too good to me.”

“I could never be too good to you,” You looked up to her with a sly smile, words slightly slurred, “Baby Mamí.”

Ona chuckled, “Would it make you feel better if I told you that you didn’t wake me,” Your brows furrowed confused, “Your daughter has been kicking me ever since I left the club, she doesn’t like going to bed without her Mummy.”

You leaned up onto your elbow, coming face to face with where your baby resided, placing a hand there, “Mi nena you can’t be keeping your Mamí awake, she needs her sleep so you can grow nice and big like your Mummy.”

Ona laughed and covered your hand with hers, “She can’t grow too big while she’s still in there, she can wait until after she’s here.”

You looked up to her with a serious look, “We’re having a private conversation here.”

Ona raised a hand in surrender, “Lo siento, continúa.”

You felt a kick against your hand and smiled, “I’m right here baby girl, it’s just you and me, Mamí isn’t listening,” You whispered as Ona watched in utter adornment, “I cannot wait to meet you, you’re going to be so perfect because your Mamí made you and she’s perfect too. But now you have to go to sleep so she can get some sleep and you can keep growing in there. You can practice your football once you are with me, and I can train you to be the captain of England.”

You heard Ona sigh from above you, “We’re not getting started on this conversation,” She grabbed you hand and started dragging you out of the bed, “Now that you have calmed her down, lets quickly go to our bed so I can fall asleep before she starts up again.”

You pressed a kiss to your girlfriend’s stomach before getting up and allowing yourself to be dragged into bed. You laid in bed with an arm wrapped around Ona and your hand resting on her bump, your whole world right there in your arms, “Goodnight my loves.”

“There’s medicine on the bedside table for when you wake up with a headache. Duerme bien, mi amor.”

---

Six weeks later on a hot day in the middle of June your little girl decided she was ready to meet her parents, ready to meet the world, and ready to see everything you had spent hours explaining to her every night.

Ona’s contractions had started early that morning, they were light and far apart for the morning. Ona had tried insisting you on going to training, knowing it would be hours before you could go to the hospital, but you weren’t leaving her side that day. So, there you laid on your couch, with Ona laid against your chest when her water broke. After about an hour of you pacing around your home, making sure you had everything ready to bring home your little girl, and making sure your hospital bag had everything that you could ever need even though it had been packed for weeks, it was finally time to go to the hospital.

The labor was slow, full of Ona rocking on a yoga ball and pacing around the hospital room, with you never a step or two away from her side. After about four hours in the hospital Ona’s parents and brother had come to visit. Her mom soothing her daughter and giving you a chance to step out of the room, use the restroom, and give yourself some time to take a breath. It was a stressful day and getting the chance to take a deep breath was exactly what you needed, knowing Ona was in the hands of her mother. It was hard seeing Ona in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it, but you knew how strong the small woman was and that there was no one on Earth you’d rather be doing this with.

It was about an hour later when Ona was insisting on the doctor to come in, that it was time. Everyone had told her to trust herself and to listen to her body, and truth behold, the doctor came in and confirmed she was 10 centimeters.

As the doctor prepared what she needed, you took your spot besides Ona, one hand firmly gripped in her own, and your other arm resting behind her head. You let out a nervous breath and kissed her forehead, “You’re doing so well already, I’m so proud of you.”

Ona looked up with you with tired eyes, but a smile none the less, “She’s going to be here.”

You smiled right back, “Yes she will, love, we’re going to have our baby girl here real soon.”

“I have to push,” Ona announced.

“Once the next contraction hits, you can push, Ms. Batlle,” the doctor confirmed.

Ona pushed, gripping your hand and letting out a scream throughout each. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, in between pushes, “You’re doing so well, Oni, she’ll be here soon.”

After about twenty minutes of pushing the doctor announced that your daughter’s head was out and now, she should take a break before the shoulders. Ona laid her head back against the pillow and you pressed a kiss to her lips, “I love you baby, you’re doing so well,” you whispered rubbing your thumb along the back of her neck.

Ona turned her head to look at you the exhaustion written on her face, “I’m so tired, I can’t.”

You gave her hand a tight squeeze, “Yes you can, love. You’re doing so well, I know you can do this,” You told her again, “Thank you so much for doing this, I love you. Now just a little more and we have our baby girl.”

The doctor looked up at the two of you, “She’s almost here now, one more push, Ms. Batlle.”

“See, you’re almost done,” You whispered. You didn’t move from your spot, but leaned forward just in time to see the doctor catch your daughter, “Oh baby, she’s here,” you said as you opened the hospital gown uncovering her chest and the doctor laid you daughter there. You had tears in your eyes as you pressed a kiss to Ona’s hairline, “You did it, love, she’s here now.”

The doctor asked if you wanted to cut the cord, but you completely missed it, too busy watching Ona with your daughter laid against her chest. She used a hand to lightly push against your bicep, “Go cut the cord, amor,” You snapped back into reality and walked to the doctor, cutting the cord.

You returned to your spot beside the bed, enamored with the little girl lying on your girlfriend’s chest. Her brown eyes staring up at Ona, as you wiped the few tears that had fallen from the Spaniard’s eyes. You kissed Ona’s temple, “You made the perfect baby, I love you so much.”

Ona let out a soft laugh and laid a gentle kiss to the top of your daughter’s head, “She is perfect isn’t she.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off of them until the doctor gently interrupted, “Mamí, you need to deliver the placenta. The nurses can check your baby girl over, do all the measurements, and then she’ll be right back in your arms,” Ona shook her head and nodded towards the doctor, “Mum can stay with her the whole time, it’ll be quick.”

You could tell Ona was still hesitant to let her daughter go, “I’ll be right there with her the whole time,” You whispered, “It’ll be quick, and we’ll know she’s okay.”

Ona nodded, with tears still in her eyes, “You don’t let her out of your sight.”

You kissed her forehead, “Never,” the nurse slowly took your daughter from her arms as you followed close behind.

Once the nurse finished cleaning her off and inspecting what they needed, he announced loud enough for Ona to hear, “You have a perfectly healthy baby girl, weighing in at a whopping 8 pounds 2 ounces.”

You could hear Ona laugh from her bed, “No wonder that hurt so bad.”

You picked up your daughter carefully holding her in your arms, finally having your baby girl in your arms. You slowly walked to the bed while whispering to her, “Hola mi nena perfecta, I hope you recognize my voice, it’s your Mummy. You’re so perfect just like your Mamí,” You smiled down at her, staring into her big brown eyes, “You’re such a big girl, huh? You’re going to be a perfect center forward for England one day, carry on your Mummy’s legacy,” You whispered the last part, knowing better than to let Ona hear it.

Ona slid to the side of her bed, making room for you to sit, and admired how you looked at your daughter with all love. You reached to transfer the baby back into Ona’s arms, but she shook her head, “Just sit and keep her for a little while, hold your daughter.”

You happily sat next to her as Ona laid her head on your shoulder and reached an arm around to rub your daughter’s back. You gently lifted the baby to place a kiss on her forehead, “It’s a good thing you didn’t stay in there longer, mi nena, I don’t think your Mamí would’ve had room for you to get much bigger.”

Ona laughed beside you, “No wonder I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks, you had me stretched thin, mi pequeña.”

“Sleep now, Oni, you deserve it.”

She hummed at your comment, “I’m okay, just happy to watch you two for a little while longer.”

You looked to her smiling, “Are we still going with the name?”

“Sí, Camila Grace Y/L/N Batlle.”

As you sat there with you daughter in your arms and Ona laid beside you that this simply was the best moment of your life, no trophy and no accomplishment in football could ever top this moment. All you ever needed for the rest of your life was right here with you, everything could come tumbling down and you could never play football again, but as long as you had your girls you knew everything would be okay. As those brown eyes looked up, you knew the feeling of love in a way you had never felt before, not in the way you loved your family, or the way you loved Ona, in a way that was waiting for this moment; the moment your own daughter laid in your arms, the arms that would protect her for the rest of her life.

#woso #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #womens football #woso community

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crguang · 1 day

Text

wasted with longing

You and Kafka have a simple, superficial relationship that benefits you both. You should have known that nothing is ever simple when she’s involved.

friends with benefits, smut, afab!reader, gp!kafka, vaginal penetration, blowjob, dom!kafka, 4.5k words

A/N: fuckboy kafka is real and we should all be running… towards her🤣 this will be a series! i’ll fine tune it when i wake up but this is for my very excited anons and mutuals <3

this is the collective playlist, i’m still adding songs as i go: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4fNHJsbeJLC49Fa8ACVOwW?si=pgaCSUzVTgmXZ8OuQJWLKA&pi=u-9uwba0QiQlWH

You push open the door to your apartment with a tired sigh and step inside. Freeing your feet from the new boots you bought days before feels heavenly, you’re still breaking them in and the process is almost torturous, often leaving you sore by the evening. You put on the slippers you discarded that morning as you shrug off your jacket, placing it back into the tiny closet near the front door. The lights are off but you don’t bother turning them on, instead, you make a beeline for your bedroom and flick that switch on. It’s late, around 11 PM, and you’re itching for a shower before collapsing into bed after spending the afternoon on your feet. You open the window a crack to let the breeze in, seeing as the summer nights tend to leave you sweating. You discard some of your clothing on the way to the bathroom, holding onto them to throw them in the laundry basket next to the sink. Standing in your underwear, you turn on the shower and adjust its settings to room temperature before removing your clothes. You’re grateful for the peaceful moment when you step into the shower, simply letting the water hit your face and soak your body.

Today was particularly challenging; your boss was a jerk your whole shift, more demanding than usual, and you’d promised some friends that you would go out with them after work even though you just wanted to be home by then. Forcing yourself to socialize is mentally taxing and often leaves you with a headache at the end of the night, too. Under the refreshing water, you feel the knots of your muscles loosen slowly as if smoothed out by warm, gentle hands. Your head tilts towards the shower head. For a few minutes, you wash away the weight of the day, focusing on the pitter-patter in your ears deafening you to all but your thoughts. An impulsive one passes by, meant to be fleeting but it solidifies in your head until you can’t help but entertain the idea.

You wonder what Kafka is doing, if she’d come running if you called the way she often does once the sun sets. She’s been busy lately, you think; you haven’t heard from her in around two weeks and you’ve been too preoccupied with work to bother checking on her. You don’t know what she does for a living, only that your palms brush against new cuts across her skin every once in a while. The acknowledgment of their presence goes unsaid like many other things, locked in a messy closet to which you both hold the key yet refuse to organize. Still, she’s skilled in the ways of your body and works you out like no one else can, so you ignore a lot about her to prioritize how relaxed you feel after a couple of hours with her. Some parts of you, your heart and fingertips, twitch to understand her absences and inconsistencies. You try not to dwell on that confusing desire for too long lest you come to a conclusion you don’t like. Kafka’s enigmatic, she’s mysterious and rehearsed as to always keep the upper hand in whatever war she’s implicated in like the world is an open minefield and she can’t afford a single misstep. Every semblance of genuine conversation about her turns into a game she has to win and you’re getting tired of playing along. However… you have to admit that you could use the distraction tonight.

The thought doesn’t leave you as you finish washing yourself and step out of the shower with a clean towel around your frame. You look for your phone once in the bedroom, picking it up from where it was discarded on your dresser, then sit at the edge of your bed. It takes a bit of scrolling through your recent conversations to find Kafka’s contact. You refrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the last texts you’ve exchanged. She can’t be relied on for your impromptu needs and you wish the opposite was true as well, but you’ve learned to make yourself available whenever she seeks you out. It’s pathetic, you tell yourself, even as your thumbs hover over the screen’s keyboard. You recline on the mattress with a sigh and hold your phone above you, wondering if you should do this. It’s late, and though that’s usually when you see each other, Kafka has the habit of not replying until hours later. It’s irritating, especially when you scroll up to her last messages and notice how quickly you always answer them. You toss your phone on the bed and cover your face with your hands. You swallow a scream.

“Embarrassing, embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, “no dignity at all.”

As you question your life choices and consider blocking Kafka’s number to make yourself feel more in control than you are, your phone buzzes with a notification. You turn on your stomach to pick it up, tapping open the screen.

You stare at the most recent text for almost a full minute before closing the device and sitting up straight. The coincidence of her messaging you while you’re debating whether you should text her first leaves you reeling for a moment. You hesitate, fiddling with the phone in your hands. You want to leave her waiting like she often does to you, but… Excitement creeps up your spine at the thought of seeing her. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Why not take what you need from her and send her on her way? This is what she’s good for, it’s how she regards you as well, so you give in to your impulses and craft the perfect text. Kafka’s reply comes almost instantly.

You can’t deny the flutter in your gut but you sure as hell can ignore it.

You make sure to be ready before Kafka comes knocking at your door. You lather yourself with your favourite lotion before pulling a tank top over your head and putting on pyjama shorts. You clean up around your apartment even if she never lingers long enough to get a good look at it, picking up dirty laundry and clearing the dishes. You don’t see the minutes tick by as you do your best to seem presentable. You check your teeth in the bathroom mirror, decide to brush them because you don’t have any mint, then tap your cheeks a couple of times, tilting your chin this way and that. You’re looking at your nails, wondering if you should clip them since they’re getting a bit long, when the doorbell rings.

You take measured steps towards the front door so as not to look too eager and shake your head at your antics. You turn the handle, revealing Kafka’s nonchalant expression on the other side of the door. She smiles at the sight of you, clad in her usual tight clothes and custom-made coat, and you have to suppress one from betraying your thoughts as you take her in. She does the same to you, gaze appreciatively raking over your figure before she even greets you. She still has makeup on, hiding the fatigue you know rests under her eyes, and she’s holding on to her pair of gloves instead of wearing them. You think she probably wrapped up whatever it is that she does and came to your apartment right afterwards.

You open the door wider and step to the side so she can come in. “You look tired.”

Kafka walks in and closes the door behind her with a foot. Her smile widens a touch, a self-assured edge to it. Her head tilts— you watch the loose strands of hair follow the movement— and her eyes drop to your chest for a deliberate second then lift to meet yours. “You look beautiful as ever.”

You don’t hide the annoyed roll of your eyes. You turn your back on her to lead her further into the apartment. She follows, slipping off her coat from her shoulders and discarding it on a sofa in the living room.

“You got rid of the painting?”

You look at where she stopped in front of the couch. She points to the far wall with her chin as she lays her gloves on top of her coat. You stand, dumbfounded. You used to have an abstract painting hung on that wall but stored it to install a TV instead. You’re mostly surprised she noticed; her lips are usually on yours instants after she’s stepped through the door.

“It’s here somewhere,” you gesture vaguely to the room.

“Mm… This coffee table’s different, too.”

“You broke the glass of the other one the last time you were here.”

Something in the way she glances at you, a cocky glint in her eyes, tells you she remembers.

“Right. What was it you said that night— ‘Don’t you dare stop?’”

You know Kafka revels in the flash of irritation that creases the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t remember that.”

“No?”

She makes her way to you, fingertips trailing on the back of the couch and amusement shining through her contacts, dusty pink swallowing the lilac at their edges, reminding you of carefully plucked calla lilies. Her slender fingers cup your jaw to tilt your chin, the nail of her index sliding across your skin, and you meet her stare with practiced ease. You hate how easily the anticipation of her touch heats the embers in your belly and you can’t stand knowing that she’s aware of her effect on you. Kafka brings you closer until all you care to see is the lustful, rosy shades of her irises. Her gaze lowers to the curves of your mouth.

“Need a reminder?” Her murmur is felt on your lips like the warm, inviting breeze wafting through the open windows.

You hook a finger under the waistband of her shorts and tug her forward. “Guess so.”

Her low chuckle is cut off by the kiss you plant on her lips. Kafka indulges your control over her, lets you back her up against the wall and pull her close with a hand around her neck. Her arm snakes around your waist, your body pressed to hers. She tastes sweet, like a sugary drink or a juicy fruit, and your tongue slips into her mouth to taste her fully. She welcomes it readily and allows it to swirl around hers before you feel her fingers curl around your throat. The pace shifts, hungry and hurried, as she effortlessly takes over the kiss, momentarily taking your breath away. You’re forced to follow her lead and exhale through your nose when she doesn’t release you. The hand on the back of her neck travels down her collarbone, pulling on the leather strap of her outfit so it slaps against her once you let go, and the hum that sounds from her throat softens your bones until you’re putty in her hands. Her shirt crumples in your grip while your fingertips tease the buttons of her shorts. Your world is reduced to the soft caress of her tongue in your mouth and the growing bulge beneath your palm.

Her hold on your neck relaxes slightly and you pull away enough to regulate your breathing. You stroke her over her clothes, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her. A pleased smile makes its way onto your face and your eyes blink open to stare at her swollen, peach lips.

“Someone’s happy to see me.”

Kafka traces the hollow of your throat with a rounded nail, smiling amusedly at your teasing tone. “Mmm.”

“Two weeks and a little kiss gets you worked up?”

“Were you counting?”

“Please. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” You unclasp the buttons of her shorts and pull them down her waist to reveal the band of her pantyhose, toying with it and sighing in faux exasperation. “I suppose I could help.”

“Yeah?”

Kafka stares at you, anticipation in the way her lips unconsciously part, and you retain her lustful gaze as you withdraw from her body to put your hair up using the hair tie on your wrist. You raise a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, and her eyes narrow a touch at your cockiness. She doesn’t say a word, though, simply watches you lower yourself to your knees with that smile that says she’ll wipe that expression off your face soon enough. You start with her thigh-high boot, zipping it down to get it out of the way, then grip the edges of both her pantyhose and shorts to slide them off the rest of the way at once. Her layers annoy you on nights when your need is greater than your patience, but you enjoy teasing her like this; testing the elasticity of her boxers’ waistband, running the pads of your fingers over the thin fabric and along the thick of her bulge, pressing leisure, open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Kafka is a patient woman, her hand tangles in your hair but doesn’t pull. Her heavy stare makes you feel powerful despite being the one on your knees, she either doesn’t bother to hide her desire or she can’t— regardless, you’re her only way towards sweet release and she has no choice but to grant your petty wishes.

Your lips trace the outline of her length over her underwear. One hand cups her between her legs while the other kneads her plush thigh. You delight in the little hums Kafka doesn’t care to contain as you pepper kisses on her clothed cock, a thumb gently massaging her balls until you feel her twitch under your lips. Still, she doesn’t tell you to hurry along or pressure you in any way. Knowing that her cool demeanor is an act fuels the satisfaction in your gut. You pull at her boxers and free her hard cock, refraining from biting your lip at the sight of its prominent vein. You follow its pattern with your mouth and use a hand to curl around her base, eyes fluttering shut. You’ve done this so often, licked long stripes up to her tip and stroked her sensitive skin with teasing touches, that the feel of her against you is engraved in your gray matter. Your tongue swirls around her leaking tip to collect her pre-cum before taking her into your mouth. Kafka is so big you have to use your fingers to stroke what can’t fit past your lips. The weight of her cock on your tongue makes you so incredibly wet, you feel arousal trickling down your inner thigh. Her hips buck forward and her hand caresses your hair in a manner so fond you’d mistake her lust for care if you didn’t know any better. You work her up with quiet, muffled moans around her dick and she guides you down her length with one hand, unable to tear her eyes from your pretty face as you suck her off. You take as much of her as you can, feel the head brushing the back of your throat every few thrusts of her hips, and revel in the short, throaty moans spilling from Kafka’s lips.

“Mmhh… How pretty you look with your mouth full,” she manages to tease you in between low gasps, smugness dripping from her words. You give her sensitive tip a particularly harsh suck and bask in the uncontrolled jerk of her hips.

You look up at the crease between her brows and the rapid rise of her chest, her audible pants intoxicating you. With her head tilted to gaze down at you, strands of magenta hang in the air like threads of silk. You squeeze her base once to draw a longer moan from her. The taste of her bypasses your every thought, and you can only focus on her throbbing, wet cock filling your mouth. You stroke her with the same hungry pace, occasionally squeezing your thighs together to appease the heat between your legs. She’s so hard, so needy, you can’t help the indignant whine that escapes you when her fingers grip your hair and pull you away from her dick. A thin string of saliva connects her head to your tongue and breaks with the distance, falling onto your chin.

“Don’t pout, you’ll get your fill,” Kafka smiles despite her heavy breathing, urging you to stand with her hold on your head, “I’ll make sure of it.”

A tinge of irritation surges in your bloodstream at the cocky edge of her tone and the way your pussy aches for her touch. Her nose brushes yours once you’re on your feet, warm breath fanning over your lips. You hate that you want her, that your body responds to her by melting into hers as she steals the air in your lungs with a single heady kiss. You hate the way your thighs part almost immediately to allow her wandering hand better access to your cunt. You hate the amused chuckle that leaves her when she realizes you’re not wearing any underwear and rubs between your slit with a finger. And yet, you only get wetter under her ministrations, brows twisting with the pleasure she’s giving you. Her digit withdraws from your slick pussy, glimmering with your arousal, and Kafka stares at you with lidded eyes as she brings it to her lips to suck it clean. The wet sound of her mouth sends a jolt straight to your core. You need her to fuck you so badly, you can barely think before grasping the leather strap under her collarbones to pull her forward.

Your lips meet in a messy, heated kiss, her salty taste on your tongue and your slick on hers. You stumble down the hallway, losing pieces of clothing along the way, until you reach the bedroom and Kafka firmly pushes you down onto the bed with a hand on your bare chest. Her mouth is locked with yours and you feel her touch on your hips, across your waist, over your ribcage where your heart drums for her. Her thumb applies pressure on your erect nipple, drawing a needy sigh from you. You sneak around her chest to unclasp her bra and she assists you in sliding it off her arms to discard it on the floor. Her cock presses against your thigh while she teases your nipple between two fingers. You know you’re ruining the sheets beneath you but you can’t bring yourself to care; you get more desperate with every minute she’s not buried inside you, unable to contain the quiet whimpers that escape you.

“Kafka…” you breathe out in a whine, aware of how much it turns her on to hear her name out your lips. Her cock throbs on your thigh at the sound.

She plants kisses down your jaw and pinches your nipple a couple of times, the feeling delicious yet not enough. Her hum rumbles through her chest, “Mmm… Pleading already?”

Aeons, she’s infuriating. You wrap a leg around her waist and her length rests on your slit, but you bite the flesh of your cheek to keep in a breathy moan, not wanting to inflate her ego more than it already is. Kafka reaches down to rub her tip between your lower lips, almost groaning as your slick mixes with the saliva from your tongue. Your lungs stutter and you suck in a breath, nails digging into the expanse of her back. Her head grazes your aching clit, you arch further into her to repeat the action. It feels so good you forget all about who you’re dealing with until she speaks up again.

Kafka’s licks a broad stripe up your neck, then her mouth brushes the skin of your jaw on its way to your earlobe, pressing a kiss just below.

“You’re dripping…” Though her voice is close to your eardrums, you barely register the words she utters, lost in the pleasure of your clit sliding against the thick of her cock. “How much do you want this, mm?”

There’s a lick on the cartilage of your ear before she pulls away to look at you through the dull pink of her irises, eyelids heavy. The movement of her dick on your pussy comes to halt and it takes you losing that relieving friction to understand that she expects an answer.

“W-What?”

“Did you miss me this much?”

Your heel digs into her lower back to pull her closer, but her lips simply stretch into a knowing, teasing smile. She presses her tip against your twitching clit once, delighting in the flutter of her eyelashes and the beginnings of a needy moan that you refuse to let her hear.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but even you have to admit that your sentence lacks conviction or venom.

“Mm…” Kafka guides the tip of her cock to your gushing entrance and your next inhale gets caught in your throat. “Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“You w— Hah—!”

She pushes the head inside you, feeling you clench instinctively at the intrusion, and lets out a sigh of pleasure as your warm, tight cunt welcomes her cock. She watches a quiver go through your bottom lip and briefly bites her own. One hand digs into the plush of your love handle, the other sinks into the bedsheets next to your head. She slides another inch into you and your fingers tangle in her locks, tugging at the sensation of her length inside you, stretching you so well a breathless gasp spills from your mouth. Her smile is smug, pleased at your silence, and you swallow as you muster the strength to speak. Kafka leans closer, the tip of her nose against your cheek and her breath warming your skin. Slowly, she bottoms out completely and gives you a moment to adjust to the fullness. Something in the way her pants falter occasionally tells you that she needs that pause too. Her lips are on your jaw in a kiss way too soft, too gentle to be from her; her who means nothing to you aside from the pleasure she provides you.

“I missed you.”

You feel a buzzing sensation in your lower belly that has nothing to do with her cock nestled into your cunt. The words are murmured like a confession but you know they aren’t one, Kafka means to provoke you so that she can put you in your place, a game you’ve played since the day you met. You can’t explain why it’s as if your heartstrings are plucked and manipulated like those of an instrument, its melody disorganized and disharmonious. You don’t understand the sudden irritation that mixes with your arousal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tug at her hair and her head follows the movement backwards, lips parting.

“I hate you,” you manage to utter through gritted teeth, and you’re frustrated to find that there’s no truth in what you’ve said.

Kafka’s growing grin turns mocking. “Aww. But you’re sucking me in…”

To prove her point, she withdraws from you just to thrust back in, her tip hitting that sensitive spot inside you. Her length rubs your walls with every thrust of her hips, rendering you speechless aside from the quiet whimpers that fall from your tongue, and your anger fades away, replaced by the desperate need to come. Your fingers messily swipe at your clit and your nails paint crescent moons on her back from how tightly you’re holding on to her body. Despite her own need, Kafka is determined to pull more lovely sounds from you. Her pace is tantalizingly slow but harsh in the way you prefer as she fills you to the brim. You feel her all around you, her lips on your jaw, the pads of her fingers sinking into your flesh, her cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt. Her low moans and short groans hit your ears in sinful sounds that only make you wetter. Her breasts are flushed to yours, following the rocking of her hips.

“Fuck, fuck—“ you babble breathily, lost in the pleasure, “more…”

You don’t register Kafka manhandling you with an arm around your waist so that you’re straddling her lap instead, only that the change in position allows her to drive deeper into you. You moan brokenly as she grabs your hips and guides you down onto her cock in one go. Your thighs tremble, aching, and your orgasm is imminent. Kafka groans into your shoulder, bouncing you on her dick, the taut coil in her belly begging to snap. Your slick trickles down her length and your wet pussy swallows her cock, you clench around her like you dread she’ll pull out before you can come. She uses a palm to apply pressure on your lower stomach, feeling the faint outline of her bulge inside you, and the sensation pushes you over the edge. You cream on her cock with a cry. Your head tilts back and Kafka leans away from your shoulder to gaze at your cum drenching her girth. She knows how sensitive you get after an orgasm, can feel you twitch against her with the aftershocks, but she can’t help jerking her hips upwards to fuck your cum back into your pussy. She wants to see her own cum merge with yours until you’re so full of her that you’re gushing.

“Kafka—!” You gasp out, fingers gripping her loose ponytail, “W-Wait…”

She shushes you with an insistent kiss. She’s close, guiding your hips up and down her throbbing cock. With a particularly harsh thrust, that familiar coil in her stomach finally breaks and her cum spills into you in hot, intense spurts against your inner walls. It’s too much for you to handle even as her thrusts stutter, yet a second orgasm builds inside you, quick and desperate; your body moves on its own accord, further stimulating you and drawing a long, drawn out moan out of you. Kafka’s lips are parted and you miss the sheen in her eyes as she stares up at you unashamedly riding her until you come around her dick a second time.

You’re both coming down from your high some time later, your eyes are shut and the pace of your rising chest slows down enough for you to take deep breaths. Kafka is a comforting presence beside you on the bed, and like you do with many things, you ignore the warmth that is born from your chest and spreads across your torso. A welcomed kind of exhaustion creeps up on you, almost pulling you into a dream, but you hear Kafka move next to you so you turn your head to look at her. She’s fixing her hair, putting back locks of magenta into her ponytail. She feels your gaze on her and meets your eyes with a small smile. There’s that twitch of your heart and fingertips again at the sight of the soft glow of her sweaty skin under your bedroom lights.

“You look exhausted,” her tone lacks its usual teasing edge but you’re too tired to notice, “I’ll use the shower and lock behind me with the spare key. You should sleep. I’ll message you tomorrow.”

You don’t say anything to that. You stare at the ceiling as the shower is turned on in the background.

Kafka doesn’t text the next day.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr #hsr x reader #kafka x reader #kafka x you #hsr x you #hsr smut #kafka smut #dom!kafka

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jarofstyles · 2 days

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Leather & Lace 2

Hello my loves! Leather and Lace 2 is now yours. The next and last official part is available on our Patreon early, but I’m willing to write some more for them if you guys want 👀 they’ll be classified as ‘extras’ but oh well hehe

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Leather & Lace masterlist

Warnings- possessive H, kind of a dickhead

WC- 3.7k

Things had shifted between Harry and Y/N.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect after she’d blown him, but she didn’t make it awkward at all. If anything? They were more comfortable around each other. Harry was less nervous to touch her, pulling her into his side as they sat on her new couch the next day or adjusting the hair from her face when the wind got it stuck in her lip gloss when they’d met for lunch. The way she reacted to his touch was much more noticeable to him now which made him feel particularly chuffed. Y/N was important to him before, but it seemed like the intimacy had elevated them to a different level.

It had only been a week since the night at her place where she’d given him the best blowie he’d ever received, but they hadn’t done much else. They had cuddled in bed that night, kissed a little bit, but he hadn’t had a chance to get her truly alone and it was driving him nuts.

Y/N was popular and she had a lot of activities she liked to do. Paint n’ sip classes she helped run, volunteering at the library, at the animal shelter, helping her new neighbor with her cat, on top of her own workload. The closest he’d gotten to alone time with her was when she arrived at his place on wednesday to climb into his bed and pass out, which she’d done with a smeared kiss to his lips. She’d been asleep once her head hit the pillow.

He’d gotten to see her out quite a bit as he was often wrangled into helping her. He used to pretend to be grumpy about it and huff and puff when she’d pat his head but he hadn’t even tried to do that this week. Instead he let his touches linger and watched her smiles grow, happy to get a few seconds to hug her before she had to move on to something else. It had been driving him out of his mind, and if they didn’t have the promise to go back to her place tonight he may have lost it.

House parties weren’t something he particularly liked, but when Y/N called him on video chat and gave him her puppy eyes while asking him to help her set it up for Sarah, he couldn’t say no. He did like the other girl well enough and he knew how crazy Y/N was about birthdays, so he’d given up his friday night to the whole surprise party.

Though he wasn’t feeling very generous with Y/N’s time anymore. For the first hour of the party he’d followed her around and lingered in the corners to make sure she was okay as she chatted to people, but this observing really did him in. She was so fucking perfect.

It hit him again how much he actually liked her. The whole experience was odd considering he hadn’t considered being in a relationship in this point of his life, content with hooking up and never seeing the other person again, but that was pre Y/N. Now that he had her in his world, it was hard to imagine himself with anyone but her. Sure, she was his opposite in a way, but they attracted. That’s what all the books and movies said, anyways. He want content just observing her, ignoring mostly anyone else who would come up to him or give them one worded answers with his eyes on his girl, the pretty little butterfly fluttering around the room.

The feeling had been so unfamiliar that the first time he’d felt it, he’d thought it was heartburn or something.

Harry had already admired her before but it was a whole other level seeing how much she tried to make other people feel seen. She gave them attention, smiling and listening intently before gracefully getting her exit out only to be stopped by someone else. How a woman like that had been into him enough that she’d wanted to blow him and keep him around, he had no clue. But there was no taking it back, and he was feeling greedy.

Cornering her in the kitchen, he narrowed his eyes at her as she looked at him with a giddy smile. “M’tired of sharing your attention.” he said it simply, placing his hands on her hips and backing her into the quieter corner. She squeaked as her back hit the wall, a nervous giggle leaving her throat as he loomed over her. “Barely got a lick of your attention all week, and m’not happy about it, pet.” His lip pouted slightly, the ring on it glinting at the motion.

She frowned, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I know it’s been really busy, H, and I’m sorry. I just wanted to help people out.” She sighed, watching him look over her face. The girl looked a little tired, which he didn’t like.

“I know you do, sweets, but you’ve got t’learn how to tell people no. You’re spreading yourself too thin and you barely have a moment to breathe. Yeah, m’greedy for your attention but I don’t like the idea of you being tired and running ragged because people ask you t’do shit. They know you’ll say yes.” It actually did piss him off. He didn’t think everyone had malicious intent, no, and he knew Y/N was a big girl who could handle herself. But sometimes he had to wonder why they were so comfortable asking such big things of her.

“I do like to help, though.” She tried to protest but really couldn’t, because he was right. She was bone tired and despite her bubbly nature, she had been deflating slightly as the night went on. Their weekend together was the reprise they got to have where she knew she’d have time to breathe. Selfishly she liked that Harry was able to be blunt and a little mean. He wasn’t to her, but his protectiveness of her really showed.

“Yeah, but it means I get less time with you. And m’a selfish man, Y/N.” Tipping her chin up, he lowered his face towards her. “Not to mention you’ve been too busy to let me properly fuckin’ kiss you. Like your little pecks darlin, they’re cute, but where’s the kiss you gave me with my load on your tongue? Hm?”

Y/N sputtered, whining at his dirty mouth but he could tell she liked it. Her eyes had widened but she had no real heat to her scolding, instead leaning into him a bit more. “I didn’t know you wanted me to kiss you like that.” The admission followed a beat of silence.

“Always want you to kiss me, are you fuckin’ kidding?” He grumbled. “Can’t jus’ give me the best blowie of my life and fuck off. Didn’t let me return the favor which m’dying to do, but even more you’ve been keeping this mouth from me. Don’t like it one bit.” His thumb brushed over the plump bottom lip, exhaling through his nose as he shook his head. “S’a fucking shame. Can’t get how good we tasted together out of my head. Not trying to pressure you if you don’t want to do that stuff, you can tell me to fuck off but.. I don’t think y’want me to.”

“No, I…” She stumbled over her words. “I do want those things. I just didn’t expect you to talk so dirty.” The tilt of her lips gave the clue that she liked it. “I didn’t want to assume it meant more than just that even though I wanted it to and - oh”

His mouth cut her off. Catching her off guard her lips opened a little bit, letting him be selfish and slip his tongue into her sweet mouth. Humming at the taste, his arm leaned against the wall as he held himself over her while the other kept her jaw angled the way he wanted it. The kiss was just like him. Intense and hot and a little sweet at the end when he pulled back and pressed three more pecks to her lips, rubbing his nose against the side of hers. “None of that shit. Meant a hell of a lot to me, silly little thing. Want to do it all the damn time. So you’re gonna have t’take it easy with giving all your time away, hm? Think I need some more of your help soon… and maybe…” He released her jaw to slide his hand to the back of her neck, massaging it just a little. “Maybe you’ll let me help you, hm? Someone’s got t’take care of such a sweet little thing. It isn’t fair.”

“H-Harry.” She felt her cheeks getting hot. Harry’s attention had always been intense and maybe that’s part of the reason she’s been so busy this week. Anxiety over being truly alone with him again in case he regretted it, if he didn’t like what they did and didn’t know how to let her down easy- but this was the ideal, she thinks. Regardless of how much he flustered her, or how he was the biggest energy in the room, she found herself preening at the attention he gave her. “It meant a lot to me too.”

Her hushed voice made him smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss between her brows. “Good. Can we get going, then? Or would y’let me lick your cute little cunt in one of these bedrooms?” Did he say it just to watch her squirm? A little, but only because it was really fucking cute.

“We can go. I’ve just got to say goodbye to some people.” She sent him a shaky smile as he nodded, pushing off the wall to wrap his arm around her shoulders. It was a new feeling for her to feel so… claimed. They had been around each other pretty consistently for a while but she could feel people looking, considering Harry was usually the victim of her clinging to his arm instead. Open affection wasn’t something anyone had seen from him, let alone with a girl that was so clearly different than him, but something about that made her giddy.

Harry was impatient in general, but he tampered it down as Y/N said goodbye to the people she knew here. It was just in her nature to be a polite little flower, floating around the room to wish everyone a good evening. Her manners, oddly enough, aroused him. He liked seeing her be so sugary sweet and knowing that it was 100% genuine. It was even more nice to see considering he’d had a glimpse of what a bold and filthy girl she could be. The blowie the night she’d moved in had completely taken him off guard and let him know then and there that her innocence wasn’t all encompassing. She had some shadows to her, and he planned to see how full they could extend.

His arm was around her as she said goodbye, merely nodding when people acknowledged him and not bothered when they didn’t. All that mattered to him was they were polite to her- though one of the guys had been a bit too bold, especially considering he was right fucking there.

“Her eyes are on her face, not her tits.” He said lowly. “And if you’d like t’keep yours, I suggest you remember that.” There was no full aggression, only a promise that he intended to keep. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d go at someone for her.

Thankfully the prick flushed, muttering apologies before dashing away so he could use this as an excuse to get them the fuck out of there.

Harry didn’t love parties. He didn’t like lots of people. He went for 3 reasons only, and they depended on the night. To get a drink, to get a fuck, or for Y/N. Though now he supposed he’d have an excuse for not going to many others. The plan was to keep Y/N to himself and not have to deal with the people he’d fucked around with not getting the hint even after he stated what he wanted. For once in his life he wanted one person and one person alone, and she was under his arm.

To his surprise, she didn’t say anything about his snarky reply to the guy they’d last said goodbyes to, instead leaning into his side as they approached his car. It was a bit nippy outside and he knew she ran cold, so he’d remedy that quickly. “C’mere.” He sighed, picking her up and placing her on the hood of his car. Stripping his flannel off, he motioned for her to splay her arms out, helping her put it on. “Wasn’t too bad when you left but it’s a little too cold out for you now, hm?” His voice was softened as he stood between her knees, face level with her as he slipped his hands under the new layer.

“I never remember to grab a sweater.” She admitted, smiling shyly as she felt palms running over her back. This was different. The whole thing was, seeing as Harry’s treatment of her had considerably softened up. He’d always been nice to her, don’t get her wrong! He let her sit on him and mess up his hair and hold his arm but… feeling him be the touchy one for once really made her feel… validated? Appreciated? She wasn’t sure of what the right term would be, but she felt like he liked her more than she had originally thought. “Who’s place do you want to go to?”

“Hm… maybe mine. I just did a grocery shop. I know you’ve been busy this week, so I don’t want to go and mess up your place.” Y/N would be a bit unsettled if it got messy and he was planning on seeing what exactly he could get her to do with him.

It had been circling around his mind the whole week, how he wanted to make it up to her. How he wanted to take her properly and feel her cum around his cock and his tongue and his fingers- anywhere he could get it. He was a man starved, pathetically so, but he didn’t have any shame in it.

“Okay. I like your place.” It was the truth. He had a nice place in her opinion. It was bigger than her own, but not cold. Darker in aesthetic, brick and dark colors and richer patterns. She’d helped him make it nicer after she had seen the state of it the first time, a real bachelor pad that made her worry for his comfort. Thanks to the sweet girl, he had a much more comfortable sectional couch, a coffee table- with coffee table books, no less- and some art. She’d helped pick out his bar stools for his island in the kitchen, too. Little bits of her were all over his place, but that’s how he wanted it to be.

“I’d hope so. You helped make it.” He snorted, tugging her closer to him so their centers were flush. The silence happened again, this time a little heavier. “I missed you this week.” The sentiment was repeated as he dragged a hand from under the warmth of his flannel and brushed the hair out of her face. The breeze hadn’t been much of a help. “I sleep better when you’re around. Know I like to give you shit and call you a needy pup, but I love it when you’re like that.” Tipping her chin up, he sighed as he observed her soft features. The slope of her nose, the mascara on her lashes that had flaked just a little bit, the slightly faded lip stain. He couldn’t imagine not being obsessed with her.

“I’m glad. I used to think I was a little annoying to you.” She admitted, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I was so busy. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Historically he’d get grumbly about it but he understood- and she’d usually pop over or invite him to her old flat.

“Course I mind. Not that you have stuff to do but you overwork yourself and…” licking his lip, he debated on whether or not to say it. “Was just hoping that you weren’t avoiding me, is all. That I didn’t make you uncomfortable last weekend.”

Her heart clenched in her chest as she saw his eyes dip to the side, for once in his life showing a bit of vulnerability. Harry never seemed anxious about much, his general setting being a blank stare or a smug smirk, so it wasn’t something she saw often. Sometimes when he was drunk he’d get a little mushy about things but he hadn’t had much, if anything tonight. “No. Of course not. I initiated it, remember?” Her hand lifted to his face, the skin slightly cool from the night air. “I wanted to do it. I promise. If I was uncomfortable I’d tell you. Listen…” adjusting slightly, she caught his eye. “I feel the most safe when I’m with you. Sure, sometimes it feels like I’ve got a guard dog, but I feel really secure. I know you’d never hurt me, you always are so careful with me even if everyone else thinks you’re all rough and tumble… I know you and I know you’d only even touch me in ways I like. I really was busy, but I was just nervous you’d regret it too.”

Harry’s brows furrowed at her admission. While he was over the moon that she always felt the safest with him, he had no idea why she would think he’s regret it. “Never. I just kept thinking about it. I wanted to do it more. I don’t regret anything, and I feel like I’ve got t’make sure you know that I don’t think of you as one of those quick fucks.” Even if she hadn’t said it, he was sure that was a thought that had lingered around in her head. That was his reputation and he’d be stupid if he didn’t know better.

“I.. I never thought of it as that, no, but I wasn’t expecting commitment.” She admitted back, eyes wide as he looked into his own. It squeezed his chest, the idea of just being with her sexually. That wasn’t what he wanted.

“No. I want commitment.” He said lowly. “You aren’t just a fuck to me, Butterfly. Not in the slightest. I fuckin’ adore you, y’know that?” He sighed, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip and tugging it slightly before letting it snap back into place. “You’re my girl. You’ve been my girl for a while. I’ve jus’ been a bit of a pussy in trying to initiate anything because the last thing I wanted was for you t’think that you were just someone else I went to bed with. M’tired of that.” All he wanted to do was crawl into bed with her at night and feel her kissing him in the morning or watch her sleepy little face as she dreamt. All the fluffy, mushy shit he used to feel sick from were the exact things he craved. “Couldn’t get it up for anyone else after a while. I was only able to thinking about you and… after a bit, I had no desire to be around anyone else. They didn’t smell like you, didn’t sound like you. My cock was set on you and I think my heart wants to follow.”

Y/N had to laugh at his last words but also in shock. She’d heard herself at the beginning of their friendship how he’d scoff at the idea of a relationship, made fun of the romance movies she liked, heard about him disappearing at a party for a bit before coming back with messy hair and swollen lips, sometimes a fly undone. But slowly that had stopped, if she recalled. The hookups, the snarky comments about love. It dwindled. Snark still existed for other things but he seemed to be more lighthearted around her. “You… you want like, a relationship with me?” Her eyes rounded at the thought.

“I’d say don’t act so surprised, but I get it.” He had to admit that, a smile on his face. It surely was a lot for her to process, considering it still had him in a tizzy and he’d had months to work over these feelings. “Yeah. Want you to be mine. M’not good at sharing, though, so you’re gonna have to tell some of these people that you have a boyfriend that wants to love on you a bit when they demand your attention.” There was another pause as his ears turned a bit red. “If, if that’s what you’d want, though. I don’t want to rush you into a label or anything, m’fine with jus’ figuring shit out but I’ve thought of you as mine for a while and-“

Her hand pulled him to her, shutting him up with her lips.

The man, for all his dark demeanor and rough glances, melted under her touch. Hummed into the kiss in surprise, cupping her jaw and reciprocated immediately as her hands went to the back of his neck to hold on to him. That giddy feeling in his stomach was buzzing as she giggled against his mouth as he chased it when she pulled back to get a proper breath.

“C’mere.” He mumbled, nudging their noses. “Lips are cold. Don’t be cruel, little Butterfly.”

Y/N couldn’t have that, could she? “Sorry, boyfriend.” She smiled against his lips, pressing them right back where they belonged.

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