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cerisereids · 3 days

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𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀- 𝘀.𝗿. [𝗽𝘁. 𝟭]

pairing- spencer reid x fem!reader

wc- 3.5k

summary- you meet spencer reid while he's in your hometown on a case. you share one day before he has to leave. what happens when you can't stop thinking about each other?

warnings- sfw, reader is referenced as a woman, canon typical case discussion/emotions, fluff to angst, no happy ending (for now...) takes place in massachusetts for this first part, lmk if i missed any!

a/n- so. i ended up making this multiple parts. it's just too long. here is part 1 enjoy 😚

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The soothing sun of an east coast spring morning bathes your skin in warmth, releasing some tension you have carried in your muscles since you first arrived at your desk this morning. The wind rustles through the trees, the idyllic scenery around you in motion with the breeze. The plants in the rose garden, the leaves and petals swirling around, they all follow the gusts in time, and you wish your morning was so easy. Your eyes fall shut, lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks as you recall that initial feeling of dread, the way it seeped through your bones when you arrived to work, met with a ransom note left on your desk. One million dollars. That’s how much the sender was demanding. One million for the safe return of Charles Anderson, local politician, diplomat, and the man who owns and funds the very library you manage.

At first, you were convinced it was a prank, refusing to let in the pure panic pounding at your heart until you were certain something was very wrong. Asking for $1,000,000 from a local library almost seemed like a joke to you at first, like a teenager made it up to spook you. It wouldn’t be the first time. You took the note to your boss’ office, eyes widening, panic in full force once you saw the state it was in. Papers everywhere, desk drawers flung open haphazardly, and an open window. Your heart nearly stopped as you raced back to your desk to dial 911.

Your eyes flutter open, back to reality as the tires of a black SUV screech against the library’s parking lot, coming to a halt right before you. You instinctively back away as a group of polished professionals exit the car, guns and badges strapped to their clothes. Your fingers find the pendant of your necklace, nervously fiddling with the small pearl resting on your chest. You greet the man in the suit, who introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. You walk the group of concerned faces over to your desk, where the note was originally found. They bag all evidence, and soon you’re left with only two agents. One is a kind woman with black hair who introduces herself as Emily, and the other is, quite literally, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. His brows furrow and his big brown eyes bore widely into yours, checking for any and all signs of distress as he shakes your hand, introducing himself as Spencer.

His hand lingers, his warm palm resting in yours for the briefest moment. A jolt of electricity shoots through your veins all the same. You yank your hand back, not out of disdain, but because of the unfamiliar comfort of his touch. You hardly know this man, only so much as his name, but the mere touch of his calloused palm floods you with warmth, with comfort, as if you’ve known him your whole life. It scared you, but the reassurance in his eyes now puts you at ease. He knows. He feels it, too, you can tell.

Emily can tell, too, apparently. She clears her throat, effectively popping the golden, glittery bubble that surrounded you and Spencer in that moment. Her eyes flit between the two of you and your cheeks burn, you avert your eyes until the embarrassment passes. You suppose this is what it must be like being surrounded by profilers all day, your thoughts and feelings constantly on display. If it were a certain profiler, though, you’re not sure you’d mind so much.

“Ooookay…” Emily trails off, accusation lacing her tone, “I’m going to take a look in Anderson’s office, there could be something there that'll help us find him. Reid, you’re gonna stay here with this lovely lady until we get the all clear,” she nods towards him. Spencer Reid. You replay his full name in your head on a loop, it’s pretty, like him.

His head snaps up toward his coworker, brows furrowed as he stutters, “b-but I thought Hotch wanted me to-”

“Stay with her? While I go investigate? Yes, he did,” Emily finished for him, eyes boring into his in an attempt to send an unspoken message.

You’re no profiler, but now it’s your turn to flit your eyes between the two people before you, deciphering the unspoken words between them. From the blush creeping up the apples of Spencer’s cheeks and Emily’s knowing glare, it’s safe for you to assume she’s throwing him a bone here. Thank God for that.

As she turns to walk away, a lightbulb goes off over your head, “b-but-” you stop Emily as she walks away, and she whips around with an inquisitive look on her face, “is it safe to stay open? I mean, they broke in here and took Charlie-uhm-Mr. Anderson- and I don’t want our patrons to be in danger.”

“That’s an excellent question, Miss,” Emily responds, and the calming tone of her voice puts you at ease, “from what they’ve found at the station, the threat appears to be towards Anderson personally, not any of the institutions he owns. We’d like to keep it open so as to not cause public suspicion, the attention could make whoever’s taken him panic and kill. If anything happens, we’re here, and we have emergency teams on standby.” You nod, fingers once again anxiously fiddling with your pearl as Emily heads into Charlie’s office.

The first few minutes after Emily leaves you two alone is painfully awkward. The two of you stand still at your desk for a beat, both sets of eyes avoiding the other as much as possible while a thick silence settles between you.

“Uhm-” Spencer’s voice cracks as he attempts to use it, he clears his throat before continuing, “you can-you can keep doing what you normally do. I’ll just be here to protect you.”

Your eyes drift to his biceps, which are unfairly toned for such a lanky guy. You wonder how the cotton of his shirt would strain against them while he wrapped his arms around you, protecting you from whoever left the note on your desk this morning. The chaos of this morning would at least be worth something if it leads you there.

“What, like a security guard? I thought you were supposed to be some FBI hotshot,” you flirtatiously test the waters, teasing him gently. Your sparkling eyes now scan back up his neck, to his lips, then back up to his own eyes, and the contact makes you nearly dizzy.

“Oh! Well no-no not necessarily a security guard. Security guards became more popularized in the 1840s when a man named Allan Pinkerton founded the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, which is now one of the largest private security companies in this country, actually! Their primary focus is on protecting institutions and artifacts,” he fidgets with his fingers as he rambles, and your heart grows three sizes.

“Bodyguards, on the other hand, originated over 2,000 years ago during the reign of the Roman Empire. They protected royalty and leaders, so a bodyguard would be a more accurate description.” He finished his thoughts by clasping his hands together, interlacing his fidgeting fingers, while a flat smile appeared on his mouth. He looks almost guilty, like he’s said too much and is afraid you’ll laugh or tell him to shut up.

Luckily for him, though, he’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, so you smile and say, “that's really interesting, Spencer, I had no idea," you see him relax a bit at your validation, so you keep going.

"You said bodyguards protect royalty?" it's nearly breathtaking how enthusiastically he nods, his soft hair moving with him, "so I can be, like, your queen for the day, hm?” you raise a brow at him as you fiddle with the end of his tie, and his face is nearly red as a tomato by this point.

“Yes!” he nearly jumps out of his own skin at the contact, and you nearly melt from how endearing it all is, “well, your safety is incredibly important so maybe you can just pick up from where you left off before we got here,” his voice picks up in speed and your heart could burst at the fact that you’ve worked him up this much while doing so little, “you can pretend like I’m not even here, I’ll just be sure you’re safe, while the rest of my team works to safely return Mr. Anderson,” he slows down a bit towards the end, taking a breath and giving you a smile, a real one this time.

You return it, “thank you, Dr. Reid. You being here has already helped more than you know,” he finally initiates eye contact himself this time, his head snapping up automatically, before he could decide not to.

“Go-good,” he clears his throat once more, “I’m glad to help. That’s my job.” You exchange another set of smiles and you wonder how long it will be before you just can’t take it anymore.

“Well, unfortunately, though, there is nowhere for me to pick up on, because the first thing I did when I got here was call you guys,” your smile only widens as he shakes his head, cheeks tinting once more, “oh-no-no of course, yeah that makes sense.”

“Lucky for you, though,” you poke at his chest gently, “it seems as if my first task of the day is restocking the nonfiction section, let’s go!” you chirp as you march along, rolling the cart full of returned books.

“Why is that lucky for me?” he trips over a cord in his attempt to catch up with you, and you giggle, reaching out a hand for him on instinct. To your surprise, he links his pinky with yours.

“For someone who knows as much about security guards as you do, I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you like nonfiction,” you say while you swing your arms back and forth, and he mumbles in agreement.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Wait a minute, so-let me get this straight,” you stop and turn away from the bookshelf to face the tall man behind you. Over the past hour, you’ve reshelved your way to the romance section, “so you have three Ph. D.s, two B.A.s, and you’re working on your third? While working for the FBI?” you push the cart further down the aisle as he walks beside you, leaning against the parallel bookshelf when you stop.

“Yep-yeah, that’s-that is correct, yes. I-uh- I have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory. You were accurate in your assumption about nonfiction,” he jokes, a sweet smile on his face. His smiles have grown more confident in the past hour, the more you two exchange niceties, anecdotes. You revel in those smiles, soaking in each one like a cat laying in the sun.

“I love that, education is so important,” you remark, and his blush deepens. Whether it’s because of your compliment or the shirtless man on the cover of the pirate romance you’re reshelving, you’re not sure. All you know is that this man before you makes your heart twinge with a longing you haven't felt in years. You want to see that blush on those cheeks everyday for the rest of forever.

“Is that why you wanted to work at a library? Because education is important?” he questions. You can tell he's desperate to keep the attention off his reddening cheeks, the blush now making its way to his ears. You could die at the way the tips of them turn pink, but you choose to answer his question instead.

“My mom always told me that education sets you free. I think it’s so true, no matter how you go about seeking that education. When you know better, you do better, y’know?” you pause, and he nods like you’re the most important person in the world, “I wanted to be able to encourage that in our patrons. I think I’ve done a good job,” you smile as you think back to the successful programs you’ve run through this library: book clubs, after school science fairs, and more.

“I’m sure you have, I can tell that there is immense love and care poured into this building on a daily basis. Your passion shines through you, y’know,” Spencer dotes, and you nearly forget how to breathe. His compliments seep through your skin, making its way into your bones. You shudder. This man is something else.

“So, what made you decide that the FBI was where you wanted to use all this knowledge?” you ask as you ruffle his hair gently, eagerly drinking in yet another smile. This one’s shy, aimed at the ground. A blush he’s so desperately trying to hide creeps up to the high point of his cheekbones, despite his best efforts to conceal his flustered nature from you.

“I had a mentor, he founded the unit back in the 70s. Hand picked me from the academy,” he lets out a nostalgic chuckle at the memory, and you wish you could bottle it up like a perfume, “we were really close, he’s the only person who could beat me at chess, actually," he's looking down when you turn to face him, his foot kicks around at a stray pebble that's made its way inside from the courtyard. You can tell he's not sure if he should say more. You hope he does.

"He quit a few years back without warning, he lost someone he cared about and couldn’t take it anymore. It really wrecked me at the time, but people move on, I guess…” he trails off, sheepishly looking once again towards his Converse. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he's wearing that same guilty face from earlier, as if he’s afraid he’s said too much. It’s not possible, though. You want to know every detail, glimpse into every nook and cranny of this man’s peculiar life.

“I know what you mean,” you start delicately, so he knows you mean it, “Charlie-uhm- Mr. Anderson-” you corrected, “he came to speak at one of my grad school lectures, what, probably five or six years ago now?" you chuckle at the memory, unbelieving that it was already so long ago, and Spencer smiles with you. It makes you feel like the queen of the world.

"From the second he began speaking to us about this library, I fell in love with it. I spoke with him afterwards and it was an instant fit. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him,” the dread from this morning slowly creeps back into the pit of your stomach as you turn to Spencer with sad, wide eyes.

“My team is some of the best in the world,” Spencer reassures you, a hand resting on your shoulder that eases the erratic beat of your heart, “they are doing everything they can to find him and return him safely.”

You greedily lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his forearm against your cheek, “‘m worried about him,” you croak, eyes glossing over, “he’s older than he used to be, y’know. He’s stubborn, but he’s not so spry, especially compared to when I first started working for him. I’m scared,” you confess, tears finally spilling over your lash line.

“Come here,” Spencer whispers mainly to himself, but you pick it up. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he envelops you in the sweetest hug known to man.

His arms fit perfectly around you as you cuddle into him, utilizing him for every last bit of comfort he’ll allow. You turn your head so your temple rests on his chest, eyes scanning over his biceps, now flexing and straining against his printed button up. You allow yourself to indulge in the tautness for just a moment, before you wrap your arms around him in return. He takes this as a sign to pull you in deeper, tighter, a large hand soothing the expanse of your back in calming circles.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispers into your temple, and you shudder at the way his breath hits your skin. You want to feel it all the time.

Once he releases you, you reluctantly return to your shelving. You thank your lucky stars that your back is facing towards him, lest you give up all your cards so quickly. Now that you’ve had that contact with him, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go without it. You can still feel the warmth of his skin as he wrapped himself around you, the softness of his forearms, the way your arms wrapped perfectly around his waist. A giddy weight sits heavy in your stomach, you’re breathless, like you’d been touched by an angel. Maybe you were.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You thank your lucky stars that Spencer was right. Later in the afternoon, his team had found Charlie in an abandoned warehouse by the bay, the men who took him are in custody, and now you’re sitting in a plastic, sticky hospital chair as the steady beeps of an EGK machine torment you from across the hallway. You pick at your nails, desperate to pass time until Charlie’s family gets here. You promised you’d stay with him, why wouldn’t you after everything he’s done for you? What you don’t understand is why Spencer has stayed behind with you.

“You don’t have to be here, y’know?” you say, even though you desperately want him to stay. You nudge his knee gently when you see a small smile form on his lips, “wouldn’t you much rather be closing out this case with your team?”

“I’d rather be anywhere you are, making sure you’re okay,” he tells you matter of factly, eyes looking directly to yours.

Those agonizing big brown eyes have plagued you all day. Every time you catch even the slightest glimpse, an overwhelming ache punctures through your heart, right in the middle. You imagine it’s what being shot with Cupid’s arrow is like. A heavy silence falls between you then. You both know what comes next. Spencer and his team close the case, and he goes home. You both turn your gazes forward, avoiding the other’s sad eyes, avoiding his departure.

A sudden clapping noise jumpstarts you back to reality, and you reluctantly turn away from Spencer to find Charlie’s wife behind you. Her hands are clasped, eyes glassy and wide. You’re frozen at the sight of her, the true gravity of what you’ve experienced settling in fully. A pit sits in your stomach like a rock at the bottom of a lake. You know you must look foolish, but your body can't move, all your energy has been usurped by the otherworldly events of your day. Your red, dry eyes meet her glassy ones, and you wish so desperately you could be of some sort of use.

Spencer thankfully takes over, patting your knee like he can read your mind as he directs Charlie’s distressed wife to the room across the hall. You sit, now alone, with your back to the wall. You feel outside yourself, like you’re floating above the hospital, not actually in it. You’re not blinking, you’re pale as a ghost.

You watch half heartedly through the glass as Spencer explains to her what’s happened. You know he’s told her he’s okay by the way she gasps, pulling him into her arms without a second chance. You feel ridiculously jealous at the sight of it.

When he exits the room to give her some privacy, that same, all knowing silence dawns upon you two again. He stops in front of you, crouching down to meet your level. You keep your gaze on your loafers tapping against the linoleum floor. Spencer takes your wrists in his hands and moves them apart, leaving you no choice but to accept your vulnerability. Your now glossy eyes reach his, and it’s like you can see the ache, the longing for what never was and never could be.

“I-” Spencer starts, but his voice croaks, so he clears his throat and continues, “I had the best time keeping you safe today. I’m really happy we were able to find your boss, I know he means a lot to you,” his voice is gentle, kind, and you want to strangle him for it. Your life has been turned upside down, irrevocably changed, and this is all he’s leaving you with? You foolishly anticipated a grand confession, for him to sweep you off your feet and vow that 90 minutes isn’t that long of a flight, that you could make it work while he’s in Quantico and you’re here. That was your mind’s fairytale, though, and this is real life.

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whisper through an embarrassing onslaught of tears, “I hope you fly safe.”

You disassociate once more, only pulled back to reality by the feel of Spencer’s soft, chapped lips against your forehead. Then, he’s gone.

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7ndipity · 2 days

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"Tell Me You're Mine"

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi’s always been secure in his relationship with you, but what happens when you and your childhood friend, Jin, start spending a little too much time together after he moves in next door?

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, possessive dom Yoongi, subby reader, light choking, marking, oral(fem rec), unprotected sex(don’t do this pls), spanking, pregnancy mention,

A/n: Thanks to @bangtansmauyeondan for this request! I had a lot of fun writing this one, it got away from me and came out a lil more fluffy than angsty tho. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Yoongi quietly let himself in the front door, a sigh of relief slipping out involuntarily as the familiar scents and sounds of your home filled his senses. Your favorite scented candle, the faint hum of the washing machine down the hall, Holly’s tiny snores from his napping spot on the couch.

Tiredly making his way through the house, he finally felt himself relax as he found you in the kitchen, coming up behind you as you were washing ingredients for dinner and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, tucking his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

“Hi.” He mumbled.

“Hey.” You giggled, turning enough to connect your lips to his in greeting, grinning at his tired expression. “Long day?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, rubbing face against the material of your shirt. “How was your day?”

“Pretty good, I went with Jin to help him pick out some new things for his place.” You said, missing the way Yoongi’s body tensed ever so faintly against yours, his mouth twitching down into a grimace.

Jin was an old friend of yours from school, whom he’d met once or twice over the years and who seemed like a really nice guy, but since he had moved in next door to the two of you, Yoongi had found himself disliking him more and more.

There was nothing wrong with him really, he was polite, funny, charming, you loved spending time with him.

Actually, that was what was wrong with him.

Yoongi had never really been the clingy type or easily jealous, it was something he had rather prided himself in, knowing that the two of you had complete faith and trust in each other. Which is why you hanging out with your old friend shouldn’t have bothered him so much, and originally it didn’t.

But then one afternoon had turned into another, and another.

Yoongi knew deep down that there was nothing to worry about, you and Jin were just friends, but he couldn’t help his growing sense of unease. It was starting to feel like you were spending more time with Jin than with your own husband.

As if to prove his point, your phone suddenly pinged next to you on the counter, the screen lighting up to show a text from Jin, followed by another, and then another.

Thanks again for today

I had a lot of fun

Yk I’d have been lost without you, lol💙

It was an insignificant little thing, but that little emoji caused something inside of Yoongi to snap.

Before you could even glance at your phone, Yoongi had spun you around, pinning you between him and the sink, his hands tightly gripping your waist.

He crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your muffled whimper of surprise. Immediately his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

You pushed back, gasping for breath. "Babe, what-”

"Come. Here." Yoongi's eyes bore into yours, almost black with lust, silencing any argument from you.

You went lax in his hold, allowing him to close the gap between you again, kissing you with all the passion he could muster.

He nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, letting out a huff of satisfaction as he tasted you, tangling his tongue with yours.

As he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of your hip with one hand, the other slid from the back of your neck around to rest against your throat, squeezing just enough to make you let out a whimper, the sound muffled by his mouth still firmly glued to yours.

Yoongi pushed you up onto the counter, your legs spreading enough for him to slot between, his mouth only leaving yours to continue his assault on your neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin and making you mewl as he ground his hardening length against your clothed core.

"I thought- thought you were tired?" You panted, struggling to catch your breath.

"Don’t care, need you." He groaned, sucking harshly on the spot below your ear that made your mind go hazy.

As his hands began to fumble with your shirt, your phone rang beside you on the counter, Jin’s name illuminated on the screen, making Yoongi’s blood boil.

Before you could ever process what was happening, Yoongi had grabbed the phone and accepted the call.

“We’re fucking busy right now.” He growled, hanging up and slamming the phone down on the counter again.

“Y-Yoongi, what the-” Your words were cut off by his mouth on yours again.

“I’ll make you forget his fucking name.” He swore, dropping to his knees in front of you.

He shoved your skirt up, yanking your underwear to the side before diving straight into your dripping cunt.

He groaned at how soaked you already were for him, dragging his tongue between your folds up to your clit to collect your arousal, his motions rapidly becoming hungrier, greedier, lapping you up like a man starved

"F-fuck, Yoongi!" You moaned out, the onslaught of sensations too much for your mind to keep up with.

You laced your fingers through his dark hair as you began to buck your hips against his skilled tongue, your motions becoming synchronized.

Yoongi steadied himself by grabbing onto your thighs, letting you grind on him, use him for your pleasure.

You looked down to see his eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth against you, the sight enough to cause the tension deep inside you to wind painfully tight, threatening to snap.

“Y-yoongi,” You gasped, your vision blurring at the edges. I’m-”

"Cum for me, Baby. Let go."

Like a command whispered into your bones, you unraveled almost instantly. Yoongi pressed his face closer onto you, letting you ride out your orgasm on his tongue until you slumped back, exhausted.

You’d barely come down when he was standing and pulling you down from the counter.

“Bedroom, now.” He growled, the way he looked at you setting your skin on fire.

He wrapped his arms around you, propelling you towards the bedroom, his lips never straying from your skin for more than a moment.

Once in the bedroom, he pushed you down onto the bed, climbing over you and connecting his mouth with yours again.

Pulling away to roughly remove both of your clothes, Yoongi’s eyes never left you, his gaze hypnotic like a predator with its prey, wanting to tear you apart and consume you entirely, causing you to squirm beneath him.

Now laid bare before him, Yoongi claimed his place between your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as he did so.

"So pretty, and all mine.” He hummed, spreading your legs even further apart. “Mine. Isn’t that right?"

"Yours, only yours, Yoongi." You agreed, your head still spinning from your last high. “Please.”

He positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, but didn’t push in yet, choosing instead to tease you by just tapping it against you, making you twitch in need. "Tell me you want it, Baby, wanna hear you say it."

"Please, Yoongi. Fuck me, please. Need to feel you." You begged.

He’d always been so good at this, making you desperate for him, your pleas sending blood rushing straight to his cock.

"Good girl." He pressed into you with the last word, causing you to let out a borderline pornographic moan, eyes rolling bad in your head.

He quickly set a brutal pace, pounding into you relentlessly as he gripped your waist, your body jolting with every thrust, your hands clutching at his forearms for stability.

"Tell me you're mine." He panted out.

"I'm yours, Yoongi, all yours." You gasped out, you pussy clenching around him as you spoke, making him almost dizzy with need.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Who’s the only one that makes you like this?” He huffed.

But the way he was pounding into you was causing your mind to drift away, floating somewhere in the stratosphere until he brought you back down to earth and him with a firm slap to your ass.

“Say it!” He demanded.

“Yoongi!” You cried out, the sharp sting of pain blending with pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Say it again!”

“Y-yoongi!” You sobbed.

He picked up his pace, well aware that the bedroom windows were open, but he couldn't care less. He needed to hear your pretty moans as you begged for him, he needed the world to hear it.

"Mine. My baby.” He groaned. “Fuck, ought to cum in you, get you pregnant, make sure everybody knows you’re mine.”

You broke at his words, shaking in his vice-like hold as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Feeling you come undone, squeezing his cock so hard he couldn’t breathe, sent him over the edge, his hips losing their rhythm as he collapsed on top of you, spilling deep inside your twitching heat.

Silence fell over the room, broken only by you and Yoongi’s shaky breaths as you tried to collect yourselves.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his softening length still nested inside of you, gently stroking your hair. All of the earlier roughness and aggression was nowhere to be seen as he looked down at you softly, almost apprehensive.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked, voice now slightly hoarse.

“Mhm,” He nodded, tracing his fingers over the curve of your shoulder.

He carefully moved off of you, moving to lay next to you before pulling you gently to his chest.

You waited a few moments before asking. “You wanna tell me what brought all that on?”

He let out a breath. “It’s dumb.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You said, giving him a look as you waited for him to explain.

“It’s just-” He sighed. “You and Jin.”

You frowned. “What about me and Jin?”

“Nothing, you’ve just… You’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. And he’s nice and all, but… it’s just, you spent all day with him, and then he keeps fucking texting you.” He brought an arm up to cover his eyes as irritation began to bubble up in his stomach at the memory. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t know it bothered you that much.” You said quietly.

“It doesn’t,” He said, too quickly. “At least, not usually. I just...”

You sat up, turning to look at him properly.

“Yoongi, look at me,” You said softly. “Please?”

He let his arm fall away from his face, cautiously meeting your gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel jealous. I like spending time with Jin, but my friendship with him could never even remotely compare to how much I love you.” You said, caressing his face. “You’re all I want forever.”

His heart stuttered as you leaned closer, pressing the softest of kisses to his swollen, love bruised lips.

It was almost funny, after everything that transpired in the past hour, the simple act of you kissing him was what made him feel the most unsteady.

You were his world, he couldn't imagine his life without you, or rather didn’t want to. He knew what it looked like, flat, bleak, nothingness.

You were what made life livable for him. Without you, it would just be surviving, and he’d had enough of that before the two of you met.

Drawing you back down to him, all his earlier insecurities faded out like a distant memory. The reassuring feeling of holding you in his arms, you sighing contentedly against his chest, was everything he needed and more.

“I love you.” He said, almost too quiet to hear.

“I love you too.” Your sleepy reply was the last thing he heard before he drifted off.

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#yoongi smut #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts smut #yoongi drabble #yoongi scenarios #bts drabble #yoongi oneshot #bts requests #bts oneshot #bts one shot #bts scenarios #7ndipity

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munariplans · 1 day

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forty, love | part 3 | natasha romanoff

part 3 of forty, love read part 2 here synopsis: nothing's changed, or everything's changed, really, in the years away from you. natasha doesn't know which is better.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 5k words

a/n: the final part to this very wonderful series. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. as always, thank you for your support.

masterlist

working up the courage to approach you after the match felt like having to work up the courage to approach you at graduation, except this time, she was being pushed around by a swarm of other reporters, cameramen, and the fans, all trying to get a glimpse of the winner of the grand slam. it was no longer the college’s favourite tennis player that she was seeing, no, it was almost as if she was looking at a completely different person.

you were grinning from ear to ear, unbothered by the fans coming in swarms and happily signing each ball, each cap, each shirt that was passed your way. natasha assumed when you were in the position that you were in, paying fan service to the fans was the least you could do. the crowd was singing your name, and natasha was getting drowned out by people who were much taller, much bigger, and louder than her.

but then, by a stroke or luck, or mere fate, your eyes were roaming the crowd again, as if looking for someone. you were smiling and laughing with everyone around you, but your eyes betrayed the intention behind your search. somehow, this time, you caught natasha’s gaze in the crowd, among the many fans towering over her, among the cameras obscuring over her head obscuring your view. your smile faltered in the slightest bit, and natasha’s heart dropped.

it was going to be like a repeat of graduation. it was going to be you, telling her no, not to come any closer again, and forcing her to retreat. it was you refusing to take her back, even then, even now. she took one step back, almost stepping the foot of a photographer behind her, when you suddenly pulled your manager in by the collar, and whispered something to him. she saw his eyes shift to her as well, and he nodded, walking towards her while you returned your attention to the people around you. natasha found herself being escorted to your dressing room.

you only came in half an hour afterwards, when natasha had finished biting the last of her fingernails, and paced around the room about a hundred times by then. but when the door unlocked and you stepped in, it felt like natasha’s breath was knocked out of her lungs again.

“hi,” you started, giving her a small smile. you were carrying the trophy natasha watched you receive with joy earlier. but then, you set the trophy down behind you, not even giving it a second thought when you returned your attention to the woman before you. you had decided natasha was more important in that moment.

it was awkward at first; speaking after years of no contact. “hi.”

“you came.”

she wanted to say of course, i watch every single match of yours, but instead, she uttered, “yeah, my company sent me. i was covering the finals.”

you chuckled, nodding. you took the seat across from her, trailing your eyes up and down natasha. you thought she still looked like the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. natasha caught you casually glancing at her fingers, and at the absence of a ring on the fourth one, you were ashamed that she had seen your expression brightening.

you cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “you did what you always wanted to do. i always told you journalism was much more fun than chemical engineering.”

natasha couldn’t control the laughter that bubbled at her throat, remembering all the times she complained to you of how much she hated her degree, no matter how good she was at it. she always had a fondness for covering stories instead. you had been supportive of her pursuing her dreams, but she had wanted to be practical. you were proud that she was finally doing it then. “yeah, i tried my hand at a smaller firm after college, then i got this opportunity and…”

“...and you’re amazing at it. like i knew you always would be.”

she blushed brightly, fingers digging into the couch she was sitting on. then, she sat up. “but you! look at you…winning a grand slam, finally.”

it was your turn to get a little shy, sneaking a look back at the trophy, the shining Tiffany silver, and shrugging. “i won a grand slam.”

“congratulations.”

you thanked her, replying with, “it’s been a long time coming. i think…and i’m sure you know, you knew, that it’s all i ever wanted ever since i started playing. and now…it feels a bit surreal.”

“you deserved it more than anyone.”

there was no smugness, or arrogance, in your expression. it was one of quiet relief. natasha thought you still looked so beautiful when you sighed, nodding towards her in happiness.

then came the reason for why you had invited her to your dressing room. “i was very happy to see you. i thought i’d seen you, from way down in the court and you were in the hospitality suite, but i thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. and then you came to see me after the win, and i knew it…it hit me like a ton of bricks.”

natasha’s lips were already quivering, watching you nervously profess to her of the reality that she too, had been experiencing, since seeing you again. “i was very happy to see you too.”

the glint in your eyes twinkled, knee bouncing in excitement as you heard her words. you had doubted if natasha was happy, or even willing to say yes, when you had asked your manager to ask her if she wanted to see you after. you were half-expecting her to say no, or to leave after a brief congratulations with you, but she stayed. the both of you stayed, in that dressing room for hours after, catching up and laughing and talking like the years had never passed. you forgot that natasha was once your best friend before she became the love of your life.

and at the end of the day, when your team had to inevitably ask you to leave the room so they too, could pack up and return to celebrate, you were yearning not to have the time with natasha come to an end. you asked her if she had work to do, or any other players to interview or cover for, but when she said no, and looked back at you in hopes for something more, you decided to risk the chance.

“would you…want to go get dinner with me then?” you asked, fingers gripping the ends of your racket bag strap, drumming in anticipation.

the look of surprise on her face caught you off-guard for a moment. “y-you don’t have plans? to celebrate?”

she watched you sheepishly admit, “to be honest, no. i didn’t expect to actually win the slam and…and i usually celebrate by myself, alone in my hotel room. which i know is pretty lame, and boring, but i just like to–”

“–to take it all in.��

“you remember,” you grinned, and at natasha’s laugh, it grew even wider. you had missed hearing that laugh so much.

she nodded, affirming you, “i remember. and i would really like to, getting dinner with you.”

–

you asked natasha if it was okay, for old time’s sake, that the both of you visited a diner a little outside of town. a little afraid that she would be upset that you weren’t taking her for an upscale restaurant, or high-end steak place, considering your status and the occasion then, but she said yes. she found that your preference for the little things never really changed, including your love for the nostalgia of celebrating the way the both of you celebrated in your years in college.

with a fry in your mouth, you watched as natasha let out an uneasy chuckle halfway through dinner. then, she joked, “i guess you only stopped your losing streak after you left me, huh? maybe i was what was weighing you down for so long, stopping you from winning a grand slam earlier.”

“you weren’t.” natasha was a little taken aback at the seriousness, and the hint of vexation, of your tone. your expression too, had gone solemn.

“i–i mean–”

“–you weren’t the cause of my losing streak, natasha. and you definitely were the reason for my winning of a grand slam so early in my career. i want you to know that.” you were all i thought about before, during, and after my matches. you were all i ever thought about.

she nodded, indicating that she understood. the atmosphere had gotten awkward again, no thanks to natasha’s self-deprecation. but you let down your own guard a bit, and offered her a taste of your drink.

inevitably, you also asked, “how’s steve? did you and him make it? are you guys still together now?”

it was natasha’s turn to laugh, quite incredulously this time, to your face. your eyebrows raised, she let out another snort before she managed to calm herself down. “n-no! steve and i…we were never a thing. and we would never be, because…”

“...because?” you continued, but then natasha did a gesture, a flick of her wrist downwards, and her eyebrows telling you what it was suggestively, and it hit you. oh. oh.

the fit of giggles and chuckles that left the both of you at the same time was infectious, as both you natasha leaned forwards with how hard you were laughing. her hair shrouding a little of her face, she was still incredibly breathtaking even as she was snorting and laughing her heart out with you. you almost hadn’t wanted the moment to end, pure joy indescribable in both your faces.

the both of you talked, and talked even more, into the night. it was like the years had never passed, like nothing had ever changed. at dessert, she even spotted another couple ordering a milkshake, and plucked up the courage to ask you, “can we share a milkshake too?”

your eyes travelled to the couple, and the memories of how the both of you would head to the diner for your weekly cheat meal and share a milkshake after when you won matches all returning to you then. it was a bittersweet memory that you enjoyed very much with natasha.

she always liked the flavour with chocolate ribbons, and you loved vanilla. in the past, you would argue over the flavour that you would order, the other never backing down on their insistence for the superior flavour.

natasha, noticing your silence, and longing gaze at the couple, suddenly cleared her throat nervously. maybe it was too much, maybe she was being too much. “it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to. you’re probably on a strict diet now, and it’s probably weird, to share a milkshake with someone who’s like a stranger, and–”

you returned your gaze to her, smiling. “–we can share a milkshake.”

you flagged the waitress down, and natasha’s heart skipped a beat when you told her that you wished to order a milkshake with chocolate ribbons without so much as a thought for your own preferred flavour. she remembers as well as you did of your little fights.

when the milkshake arrived, you even grabbed the little bottle of sprinkles by the table, and let it pour all over the top of the whipped cream, just like how natasha liked it. you remembered everything.

she caught herself from reaching over to kiss you, many times, as the both of you inserted straws into the drink and began sipping the sweet treat.

you could tell natasha was longing for something more, still. she guessed she hadn’t realised how much she had really missed you; of course she did, she always did, but seeing you in the flesh again, spending the night and catching up with you, it felt like she was taken back to a happier, simpler time. natasha never realised just how much she had lost, being apart from you.

however, on the other hand, you were scared, and doubtful, of the woman before you. had natasha really changed, or grown up, you weren’t sure. for all you knew the reason she was making you so happy, and was being so kind, in the moment, was all because you had won the grand slam. if you hadn’t, things would have been completely different. you couldn’t be more wrong.

natasha never cared about the grand slam, or the trophy you carried in, or even your career at all. all she wanted to see was you, and all she wanted was you. she just missed you.

you let natasha finish the shake, and when she did, you joked this time, “have you gotten enough insider scoop for your coverage of the US Open, then, ms. romanoff?”

you gestured towards the clip-on name tag natasha still had on her breast pocket, grinning at the title of senior reporter. it fit her so well. but that smile quickly disappeared, when instead of laughing along with you, natasha suddenly looked down, pushing the milkshake away dejectedly. a hurt look flashed onto her face, before she tried hiding it under the guise of looking away at something else.

“you think i said yes to dinner with you so i could get information for my firm?”

damage control. damage control, now, the sirens in your head immediately rang, as you sat up straighter, panicked at hearing her voice crack. “n-no, no. of course not. i was kidding, i didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“i’m not using you, if you think that’s what this is.”

“of course, i didn’t…” you choked on your words, “...that wasn’t in my mind at all. i trust you, natasha.”

it was a relief to hear, of course, but the sting was still there. however, in your desperation, and perhaps regret, still, you reached out your hand, holding hers, and natasha physically melted into your touch. “please, please believe me. it was a joke, which i realise now is a badly made one. i never meant for it to sound like you were using me, because…because i really enjoyed tonight. i really, really wanted to hang out with you, and this is the best way i thought we could celebrate my grand slam. i’m sorry.”

after all this time, natasha thought, she somehow still had you wrapped around her finger. she rubbed her thumb over yours, and nodded. “i understand. apology accepted.”

afterwards, you offered natasha a deal; free VIP passes to any future matches she wished to watch you in, in exchange for her forgiveness of the crudeness of your words. she found it adorable that you were still so apologetic, and touched when she got reminded that this was precisely the person she fell so hard for.

–

natasha appeared for almost every single match that you played when she had pockets of breaks away from work. wherever you were on the court, you could look up to find her there; smiling encouragingly and cheering you on regardless of the scores. even when there were so few spectators that she was only one of a handful, and even when it was a match that drew in the thousands.

you often hung out after, and outside, the matches, natasha following you around the country when she secured a promotion that allowed her the flexibility to work remotely, and became, as one could call it as accurately as they could, best friends. you talked to her about your woes and struggles of your schedule, and she noticed that you loved it when she talked about her journalism too. she was there for you as much as you were there for her through it all this time.

still, natasha always wishes there could be something more. it could have been pure selfishness on her part, or dissatisfaction from something unfinished, but was it so wrong to want to keep you all to herself? often, when she toured around with you for your matches, she would catch the occasional pining gaze of others upon you, wanting to experience what it was like to have a champion for a partner, and it would fuel her blood boiling at people who she barely even knew. other times, when there were celebrities, or public figures, who flirted with her in interviews, and she was in your presence, it almost made her even more upset when you would only look briefly in her direction, almost trying to gauge her response, before looking away again. was it so wrong for you to want her again?

this time, she was there to love you and support you through your losses. though you were no longer the irrational, insecure, and doubtful youth player that you were in your college days, a loss was a loss and it would still hit a professional player as hard as it would a rookie when it came to feeling like you could have done better. when your confidence was shaken, natasha would be there to hug you after your matches, whispering words of encouragement and telling you that you did your best out there. you hugged her back just as tight. when you received an unfair result, natasha was there to shit talk the umpire just as much as you were, allowing you to crack a grin and eventually end up laughing along with her on the poor person that was destined to give you the poor score. and finally, when you tell her that she could skip the next match if she wanted because you feared the result, she told you that she wasn’t going anywhere, and she would be just as happy to see you as she would be in any other match.

eventually, natasha proposed that the two of you forget about tennis altogether when you were alone and outside of the tennis courts. ice cream hangouts became simply talking about the flavour of the month instead of the impending match the following day, picking her up after her shifts at work became a nice solace for enjoying the music on the radio instead of talking about strategies that you could have used in matches earlier in the day, and movie nights became a time for you to rest your laurels for a bit, and lean your weight against natasha, to take away your stress and sorrows for the week instead of thinking about tennis the whole time. natasha would never know it was the respite you had so badly craved ever since you started playing professionally, and the closest thing to a work-life-balance you had between tennis and the woman you loved.

in those moments, natasha refused to talk about anything, or touch anything remotely close to tennis, when she was with you. she had reminded you that she was there to hang out with her friend outside the court, not the professional tennis player, and while it took you some time to dissociate your identity from all that you knew, which was tennis, you began to learn to like the person you were outside of the sport as well, all thanks to her.

and eventually, natasha noticed, you finally allowing yourself to look at anyone else in the face after losing matches, ready to confront and thank the crowd for their support, still. you seeking her for comfort after certain hard matches, instead of her coming to you, you letting someone else in to the world that you had carved a path for all by yourself, all those years ago. and with a support system like natasha, it was hard to lose many matches, not when you found confidence independent of your results and began climbing up the ladder to become one of the top tennis players of all time.

maybe the both of you had just grown older, maybe you both matured out of your college ways, or maybe something was different now; the way you would look at each other across the room and know, just know, what the other was thinking, what the other wanted. maybe something really had changed, when you would catch each other’s smiles and finish each other’s sentences. maybe natasha had changed, and so had you.

it was after a gruelling day in the office, natasha remembered, she wasn’t so sure of the date, but she had been of the time. she hadn’t asked you to, and she certainly told you to just go home after your match, since you would be tired and drained from the day, but you waited, in your car, until nearly 2 in the morning to pick her up and get her home safe. she had come out in a hurry, apologising for keeping you waiting and being so mentally exhausted from work herself. but you had gotten out of the car, and, taking her stuff away from her to load it into the back, you had come back for her afterwards, pulling her in for a tight, comforting hug before she could even open the car door. natasha immediately felt all of the stress and worries for the day melt away into the ground then, almost whimpering with how comforted she felt being in your arms. she felt like she could cry.

“it’s okay. you did great today.” you said, smiling down at her.

“how would you know?” she muttered into your sweater, letting you rock her back and forth for a minute, “you were busy being amazing at tennis.”

“i asked my manager to record you on the news while i played. watched it after. incredible how you could look so cool even when you’re delivering the news.” you got what you wanted when you heard her chuckle, finally letting go after making sure she knew she was off duty, and with you now.

your tennis rackets and equipment were still in the back of the car, and natasha got reminded just of the day you had before you even came to pick her up. “how was it? the match?”

you kept your answer brief, already driving into the parking lot of the diner the both of you first went after your grand slam win. natasha was craving for a milkshake after a long day. “i won.”

“that’s great!” she exclaimed, and you nodded, thinking that no matter how great it felt to win, somehow, the feeling of being able to see natasha after a long day felt even better.

the both of you ate in the car after, natasha laughing about a stupid thing your coach had told you during training, and you listening intently as she told you about a new unfolding story she was covering. it was safe, and familiar, and everything you had wanted after a match.

it was the way that natasha wiped a crumb off your cheek, eyes glistening with something you always knew was more than friendship, fingers soft against your skin. the realisation that you had always known, but never dared to admit, all came rushing back. it was now or never. you never wanted her to be apart from you ever again.

“natasha.”

she was busy finding the sprinkles in her shake. “mmm?”

“do you think we’ve changed?”

she paused for a moment, looking up at the dashboard, before letting out a nervous snort. “what makes you say that? what a serious topic for tonight.”

“because i’ve changed. i think i’ve changed, a lot.” you angled your body to face her fully, inviting her to do the same. she sensed the shift in emotion in your tone, and finally turned to look at you. your stance mirrored that of the one you had displayed so many times in the past, when you were apologising to her after a bad fight the both of you would have.

you continued. “i’m not…that kid anymore. that angry, hotheaded, smug, and insecure kid you knew back in college. i-i think i’ve changed, i’ve grown, and i don’t ever want to go back to what i was back then.”

“i know,” natasha probed, “i know you’ve changed. i’ve seen it in person.”

you nodded, biting the corner of your lip, and natasha sighed. “and i’ve changed too. i’m not someone…who projects her desires, her insecurities of losing, onto someone else anymore. i’ve found peace with myself, and the time apart from you…it’s really helped me find myself and what i wanted for my future. winning clearly doesn’t matter to me anymore, and though it is nice, i think being able to enjoy and live in the moment, with people i cherish and love, that’s what’s more important.”

“i’ve changed because of you.” the both of you managed to say at the same time, sending shocked looks to each other at least, before natasha laughed nervously and you grinned with your heart pumping in your chest.

she motioned for you to speak first, seeing as you had something so earnest on the tip of your tongue. “i was going to say…i’ve changed, and everything’s changed, but i don’t think i have loved you any less, over the years. my love for you, it is the one thing that’s remained the same.”

natasha knew and didn’t know what was happening, both at the same time, until you reached over the console, and held her shaking hand. “i still love you, i always have, over the years, until now. and i know you might call me stupid, or even rash, for trying to repair something that we clearly thought was broken back in college, but…but i think we can make it work, this time. i think we can try again, and have the love we always dreamed of back then, now, as adults.”

at her stunned silence, you persisted, “i’m not saying you have to say yes now, or for us to get back together now, but i want you to think about it. really think about it, because i am certain that you are the one i have always loved, and you are the one i want to spend the rest of my life loving. so–”

“–yes.”

it was your turn to stare at her in shock. “...yes?”

then, natasha had tears down her eyes again, this time filled with joy and relief, as she threw herself over the console, and into your arms. “yes, yes, you idiot! yes i’ll get back together with you, yes i want to love you for the rest of my life as much as you want to love me.”

she felt you chuckle in relief through her arms, bringing her in for a kiss right after.

–

“do you think you want kids? soon?” the topic had come up before, and while the both of you had discussed it briefly, it had never come to any real conclusion. natasha, naked and vulnerable and laying in your arms then, years after your confession outside the diner in your car, asked again.

you were still catching your breath beside her, the activities of the night after such a win tiring you out more quickly after the activities in the day. “i want whatever you want.”

“well…” natasha drew circles on the bare skin of your back, “...i want them. pretty soon. i think we should start a family.”

she felt your smile against her own skin, nodding in agreement. “sure.”

“sometimes i see the kids that show up at your matches, up in their parents arms and wearing your caps to cheer you on, or even the ball girls and boys eagerly rushing in and out to help you during the matches, and i can’t help but want them then and there. even now, i can’t help but want them right now, with us, in this moment.”

you leaned over to kiss her sensually, cradling her face in your hands, before returning, “my love, are you saying you have baby fever during my matches? and not a lovesick, guttural, lusting feeling for your fiancee that is playing–”

“–oh shut up!” she groaned, throwing a pillow at your face, “you’re the one that brought that stupid trophy to bed before you even thought about bringing me on it!”

she pointed towards the trophy at the end of the room, that natasha had almost kicked in frustration when she came in after her shower, sported in a brand new lingerie set just for you, and caught you hugging it and trying to fall asleep. you had to remind her that doing so would have broken your heart, and definitely your proposal to get married with her.

she felt herself being rolled over then, out of sight of the trophy, as you nipped on her skin and apologised until she gave in again. she always gave in when it came to you. “sorry. got jealous that my very beautiful, very sexy fiancee is busy looking at how cute the kids that support my matches are, instead of me. totally my fault.”

the glare natasha shot at you was met with another kiss that made her melt, but you weren’t free just yet. she rolled you back to straddle you, hands pushing against your shoulders to say, “i still want the kids.”

“my god, woman,” you sat up, pulling her down with you, “you just fucked my brains out, and we have a wedding to attend tomorrow. let me marry you first tomorrow, and we’ll have the kids after, okay? one thing at a time.”

it was getting pretty late, as she reluctantly grumbled her agreement. she was already breaking rules by sleeping with you the night before her own wedding; but how could she not? when her bride looked as gorgeous as the one she was snuggled up with, natasha didn’t mind breaking a few rules.

“fine, but if you dare bring that godforsaken trophy tomorrow, baby…”

that sprang your eyes open, lulling you out of the sleep you had been succumbing to. “come on, it’s wimbledon, i won wimbledon! don’t you think people deserve to see a wimbledon trophy in the flesh once in their lives?!”

“but not at our wedding!”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #tennis player! reader #challengers #forty love #natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

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its-avalon-08 · 14 hours

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Can you do one where max verstappen x leclerc!sister reader? set this after austria 2019. y/n refuses to talk to max, and max refuses to talk to y/n. both angry for their own reasons. charles hates seeing them so distant so he goes and sorts it out even though he is still furious at max.

Thanks!

to hell with him (mv1, cl16! as a brother)

the champagne showers at the red bull ring were a stark contrast to the storm brewing between you and max. two years. two years of laughter, whispered secrets in motorhomes, stolen kisses under starlit skies, all culminating in this icy silence. the roar of the austrian national anthem barely registered as you stared at the podium, charles' jubilant face mocking your shattered heart.

max's reckless move on leclerc in the final lap had cost him the win and ignited a firestorm within you. the frustration, the fear, the betrayal – a cocktail of emotions that left you speechless. max, on the other hand, was fuming. he'd taken the risk for the win, a win that could have closed the gap in the championship. your disapproval felt like another blow, a rejection that added insult to injury.

charles, ever the mediator, couldn't bear the tension any longer. after the podium celebrations, he found you drowning your sorrows – non-alcoholic champagne, of course – in the red bull hospitality area. "y/n," he started cautiously, "we need to talk."

you sighed, the dam threatening to burst. "not now, charles. please."

he persisted, his monegasque accent soft yet firm. "it's breaking him too, you know."

you scoffed. "right, because it's all about him."

his words hung heavy in the air. a flicker of doubt ignited within you. could he be right? but before you could process it, max entered, a dark cloud following him. he scanned the room, his gaze landing on you.

across the room, charles, his own disappointment at a missed podium simmering, couldn't bear the tension any longer. he stormed over, his gaze hard. "this is ridiculous," he declared, voice taut. "talk to each other."

max, surrounded by team personnel, barely glanced up. "nothing to say."

you choked back a retort, the sting of betrayal raw in your throat. charles, seeing the storm brewing in your eyes, turned to max, his voice low, fierce. "that wasn't racing, max. you almost took me out. don't you get it?"

max flinched at the mention of your name, but his jaw remained clenched. "it was a racing incident, charles. end of story."

the tension crackled. you stood abruptly, tears blurring your vision, and stormed out, the echo of cheers hollow in your ears. hurt morphed into anger. you stormed out of the room, the cool night air doing little to soothe your burning cheeks. tears, stinging and hot, welled up in your eyes blurring the path ahead.

meanwhile, max had been drowning his frustration, not in champagne, but in self-recrimination. he replayed the race a thousand times in his mind, each time cringing at his recklessness. but most of all, he saw your tear-filled eyes, a sight that twisted his gut with regret. he had been so focused on his own disappointment, he hadn't seen the hurt etched in your face.

bursting out , he scanned the darkness, his heart pounding with a newfound urgency. he found you on a small bridge overlooking the track, the city lights twinkling below. you were facing away from him, your shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

he walked up slowly, his voice rough with remorse. "y/n," he called out.

you stiffened at the sound, but didn't turn. he stood beside you, a heavy silence settling between you both. finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he confessed, "i was an idiot. i took a stupid risk and… and i scared you. seeing you cry… that hurt more than anything."

you still refused to meet his gaze. finally, a choked sob escaped your lips.

the sound tore through max's defenses. he closed the remaining space and took a cautious step closer. seeing the tear tracks staining your cheeks, the vulnerability etched on your face, a wave of regret washed over him. he knelt before you, his voice laced with remorse. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i didn't think it through. thinking of losing...it clouded my judgment."

slowly, you turned towards him. the anger that had burned bright in your eyes had softened, replaced by a deep hurt. "it scared me, max," you whispered. "the thought of losing you...of losing charles..."

max reached for your hand, his touch gentle. "i know," he murmured. "i never meant to put either of you at risk. especially you."

he held your gaze, and in his eyes, you saw a depth of emotion you hadn't witnessed before, an apology that went beyond words.

the road to forgiveness wouldn't be easy, but in that moment, a flicker of hope ignited. the roar of the engines outside might drown out some conversations, but the one between you and max had just begun. and for the first time since that reckless move on the track, a tiny corner of your heart dared to believe.

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dominicfikue · 2 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/dominicfikue/749862083198320641/boxermatt-i-need

wait pls write a lil blurb on this pls pls pls

— come home. ft. exbf!boxer!matt sturniolo!⠀ׁ⠀ㅤ © ㅤ dominicfikue.

this was starting to become a weekly routine for you two— matt banging on your door in the middle of the night, bloody and hunched over as he practically pleads for you to open the door.

you’d put up a fight every time, crossing your arms over your silk robe & telling him to find someone who gives a fuck ( knowing you care.. maybe a little too much ). eventually, you accept defeat and mutter to yourself, stepping to the side to let him in.

“just go wait in the bathroom.” you groan, closing the door behind him before walking into your bedroom to a first aid kit. a pained laugh & smile comes from the brunette who leans against the wall, dirty jokes already brewing in his knocked up head. he doesn’t get a chance to voice them though, the stinging from his injuries catching his tongue. when you come back to see him still in the same spot, you close your eyes & pray to a higher power to give you the strength.

“y’know i have work in the morning, matt. you can’t keep doin’ whatever this is.” you scold as you help him limp to the restroom. a sigh of relief leaves his lips when he takes a seat on the closed toilet. you kneel in front of him, opening the kit and grabbing what you need. “this is the the only way i get you to see me. when i call or text, no answer… so.” he breathes out, sliding out of his jacket & white t-shirt.

suddenly, the air is thick and any saliva that resided in your mouth, now gone. his words had such an effect on you, the smallest phrases reeling you back in like a fish. not to mention, he was half naked in your bathroom! you clear your throat as you press a alcohol pad atop one of many wounds, a hiss coming from the boy.

“jesus fucki— fuck!” matt curses, squirming as his eyes snap shut. you narrow your eyes at him as you remove the wipe, placing gauze and a bandage over the cut. “okay.. stop moving! it’ll be over faster if you just sit still.” you sigh, sitting up on your knees.

“mhm. whatever.. just hurry. this shit hurts.” he whimpers.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐇

you place the last bandage on his lower stomach, giving it a light tap to gain his attention. “all done.” you tell him, picking all the paper and pads up from around you. he stands up slowly, his frame making it’s way to lean up against the sink. matt’s gaze lands on you as you throw the paper away, standing up too. “yeah.. um thank you.. for this. you didn’t have to.” he swallows, time around him seemingly slowing down.

“i know i didn’t. i should’ve just let you knock.” you mumble with a shake of your head, your body slowly moving closer to his. matt’s eyebrows furrow, not sure how to feel about what you’re saying.

“so why didn’t you?” he asks, his index lifting your chin, making you look at him. you knew why. everyone around you knew why. even though it had been months, you still loved him. that soft spot you had for him never disappeared so when he shows up, injured and begging for you, why wouldn’t you help?

“felt like being a good samaritan tonight.” you shrug, the eye contact between you two never faltering. a smile and a hum comes from the boy, his hand moving slowly towards your throat. “every good samaritan deserves a reward, don’t you think?” he questions, his head dipping down slightly. your faces are only inches apart, your lips brushing against each other teasingly. “depends on what the reward is.” you whisper, your fingers reaching up to weave through his hair.

“maybe something like this….” he trails off, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. his hand around your throat squeezes the flesh, earning a low moan from you. your lips move in sync, all that time apart and every single emotion bubbles up, causing the kiss to get more & more heated.

he was home & so were you.

a/n: FINALLY DONE FFFFFUCK! this might not be my best work but i’m too lazy to rewrite sooooooo here ya go 😭😭😭. enjoy!

taglist. @fawnchives @prettyvyll @trickywritters @breeloveschris @lorarri @vickyzloserz @gnxosblog @firexovni @tylerstacobell @ivonchetooo1239 @bernardsgf @dracoflaco @strniolo @paibey @hearts4chriss @sturniololol @rootbeerworshiper @tillies33ssss @katluckybear @realuvrrr @junnniiieee07 @imsosillygoofylol @dazednmatthews @lanasturn @st7rnioioss

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harrysonlylover · 21 hours

Text

Too Sweet

Summary: A glimpse into Y/n and Harry’s life.

A Hot Wheels Extra (Yes based off Hozier’s song)

Trope: Mechanic! Harry

WC: 3.1k

No warnings! Reading the series before is a must!

A/n: I know it’s short! But it’ll pave the way for upcoming extras!

Hot Wheels Series

Sweetness.

A feeling, a sensation, a memory.

It has surrounded and invaded the lives of two human beings for the past few months. The boy and the girl that we’re interested in started on the wrong foot—just like any two-fated lovers.

A shy soft girl conjured from broken sea shells and a bold boy who’s tougher than steel. A match made in heaven.

After a few songs, teabags, books, necklaces, strawberries, and car rides— a confrontation arose which was the beginning of their happily ever after.

Harry has never wanted to fix something so badly in his life, and this time it was not a car—but the relationship between him and the sweetest girl, his girl.

After she visited him that fateful night, he vowed to never let her see him in that state. She only deserved the best scenery and memories.

It was exceptionally hard for him to figure out emotions and cues—he sometimes felt like a cat attempting to solve algebra, but cats know nothing about Maths and he knows nothing about feelings—only that his heart rate becomes weird around his shortcake.

He was lost between allowing her to contact him first or taking the first step. It was on the third day of pondering that he decided he could no longer wait.

His first step included: a basket of strawberries, a hydrangea pot, and Emily Dickinson’s selected poems.

The author of this story believes that’s quite the move.

He had fiddled with the rings on his finger till she opened the door for him, making his heart skip a beat with her gasp and giggle.

His first step didn’t go badly—not at all. It earned him a mature conversation with shortcake and a kiss on the cheek that he daydreamed about later on.

They had both agreed that they needed a fresh beginning full of honesty starting with the fact that they both like each other.

Harry was sure that his face turned red at some point, but if he wanted to win her, he’d have to get used to being vocal with his feelings.

Their first date was scheduled and proposed by Harry who cleared his throat a million times before.

Y/n agreed enthusiastically and suggested postponing it a bit due to an upcoming project at her job and for time to pass—but also for the awkwardness between them to dissipate.

Despite the conversation they had, the only factor left for their apologies to be complete was time, and Harry didn’t object at all.

Time was a funny little thing to him—he didn’t like the idea of wasting seconds, minutes, hours, and days without getting to hear, see and feel her.

And so they hung out now and then in the field near his house, at his garage, and sometimes the library. Their small meetings helped with the barrier that should’ve been broken long ago—in fact, by the time their date rolled on they could’ve already been mistaken for girlfriend and boyfriend.

Harry distracted himself with cars from the early morning. It was Spring after all, and there was no time to waste.

His date with Shortcake was around the corner and he's so fucking eager.

1 hour, 32 minutes, and 40 seconds.

That's how much time he had left. His curses filled the garage as he scrambled to his car which was parked near the hydrangeas. Trying to get her off his mind resulted in getting him distracted from his scheduled routine, and now he had to hurry up.

It had been months since they softened and began hanging out, and even more since she found him drunk, though he doesn't like to recall that night.

He thanked the heavens and every star in the sky that she gave him a second chance, and he'd spend the rest of his days trying to show her why it was the right choice.

Everyone around him (only Kitty, George, Niall, and his sister) had noticed the difference in his behavior.

He became softer than usual that even strangers in town dropped their jaws when they saw him walking around in town with a gooey smile on his face (Y/n had sent him a picture of her face in agony having been in a meeting for three hours).

Customers felt weirded out when he replied with a 'Welcome' instead of going back inside with a scowl.

Though he kept his boundaries and barriers up for strangers and town folks—Y/n saw a whole other side that not even he was acquainted with.

He recently quit street racing for her. He was called a madman and a fool, but he didn't blame them—because he was for her.

She didn't mention anything about her feeling unsettled but Harry could sense her discomfort once he brought up racing. Her face would scrunch and she'd avoid eye contact. He didn't tell her that he quit racing except for a few days after. It wasn't that she didn't want him to enjoy his hobbies but she worried too much.

He's one of the most skilled drivers she has ever seen but her thoughts get to her sometimes. That night was the first time they ever kissed properly, he had been keeping his space but it was her that sealed their lips together under the dim light of her apartment.

He had many things to say back then—to explain that he was addicted to car racing but found her more addictive, that he didn't want her to worry for a second about him.

All of these evaporated once he tasted her lips for he was in heaven and couldn't spare a thought. He had been patiently waiting like a starving man and the idea of kissing her every day made him dizzy.

Their first date begins in 30 minutes, and he manages to get himself inside his car after a quick shower at his house, a fashion consultation from Snow Bun, and preparing their picnic basket.

When he asked her what she wanted, she only replied with "not something fancy" which made him scan his brain for date ideas.

He hadn't been on a proper date in ages, and even back then he wasn't as serious. But for his shortcake, everything was planned from A to Z.

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, his head bobbing to Stevie Nicks playing on the radio as he drove to her house. It was a short drive filled with anticipation and worry—he cannot fuck this up.

He parked and waited for her to come out of the building. His hand was itching for a cigarette, but he was trying to lessen consuming it.

It was a beautiful Spring Day in May and the smell of blooming flowers filled the air as soon as he stepped out of the car. He did so out of anxiety but also to be prepared to open the door for her.

He went for a simple yellow graphic tee with his usual Levi's and tinted yellow sunglasses. Yellow had grown on him thanks to Shortcake's yellow dresses. He secretly hoped that it was her choice of color for their date.

His train of thought was interrupted by her arrival in a short white dress with a bow at the chest, and pearl earrings. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid—the same one he styled yesterday, still intact.

She wore the sweetest smile on her pretty face. Harry placed his hand on his chest in awe of her beauty—she could wear a trash bag and he'd find her gorgeous.

"Trying to give me a stroke?" He laughed as he raked her body behind his sunglasses.

Blush instantly crept up her face as she stood in front of him while he inhaled her sweet strawberry scent carried by the spring breeze.

"Says you." She leaned in for a kiss without hesitation and Harry's knees buckled. He couldn't believe that she initiated most of their kisses—or that he can kiss her in the first place.

"Beautiful girl." He mumbled into the kiss, tasting the cherries she had earlier making him grin. They were full-on making out against his car as he cupped her ass above the thin sundress.

"We should get going." Her giggle halted their steamy session as Harry looked down on her face that's covered with sunlight before bowing like Princes in Disney movies.

He opened the door for her like he always did, observing her as she got comfortable in the passenger seat before closing the door and rushing to his side.

"Sooo what will we do?" She couldn't wait till they arrived at their destination.

"It's a picnic baby." The word rolled off his lips so easily—mainly because he got used to it. The engine roared to life as his car took the short road while Y/n expressed her excitement and chose a song.

Too Sweet by Hozier played through the speakers making Harry bite back a smirk knowing that this song was written for him and Y/n.

She was too sweet for him. A pure soul crafted in the Garden of Eden and sent down to earth to save him—he was one lucky bastard.

“You treat your mouth as if it’s heaven’s gate.” She sang along, allowing her hands to wander in the air as Harry sped a little down the empty road.

He adored the fact that she felt comfortable enough to sing and be carefree around him. She even danced as much as her position in the car allowed her—pointing fingers at Harry that he grabbed to kiss before she went on to another move.

Though his favorite thing had to be resting his hand on her thigh—a gesture that grew on him and sometimes kept him up at night. But now his shortcake was restless and he was too content in admiring her to let his hand wander.

After one ABBA song, Harry stopped his car and parked in the middle of an empty field—a lavender field. Y/n glanced around her, dumbstruck by the view that would forever be engraved in her brain.

The beauty of nature never failed to amaze her but it caught her off guard every single time. She stepped out of the car slowly, trying to catch up on every detail. It was a large field with no one to be seen but them—lavender was everywhere and the purple colour boosted the serotonin in her brain.

The smell though was something else—the scent of lavender that was kissed by the sun all day long mixed with the spring breeze freshened her lungs and planted an eager smile across her face.

“Harry, I—“ Her words were cut off by her shock and Harry’s body collided with her back. He wrapped his arms around, engulfing her easily before pressing a soft kiss to her head.

“Do you like it?” He whispered in her ear, relishing in the sight of goosebumps on her skin.

“I love it. This is so beautiful.” She turned around showing him the gleam in her eyes that he loved. He couldn’t resist stealing another kiss from her soft lips as the field of lavender surrounded them.

“Not as beautiful as my shortcake.” He pulled away fearing to get carried away.

She hid her face in his toned chest as the sun cast a warm ray on their love-filled bodies. Harry kept his bicep around her as he fetched the basket he prepared from the backseat.

“C’mon, honey.” He led her inside the field until they found a spot big enough for them to sit down.

Harry laid the plaid blanket on the ground and began unpacking the basket, refusing Y/n’s assistance.

First, he placed the charcuterie board filled with different types of cheese, olives, bread, meat, and crackers. Then delicious chicken avocado sandwiches followed along with a mini basket of strawberries and blueberries. An orange bottle was left inside the basket for Y/n to sip on in case she got thirsty.

“Are you hungry, darling?” She only nibbled on a few berries and crackers with her body resting sideways on the blanket.

“Not a lot. How was your day?” The smile never left her face as she accepted a cheese cube from his hand.

“Mhmm it was good but it’s excellent now.” Their noses touched before sharing more kisses like eager teenagers.

“We kiss a lot.” She pulled away, pressing a hand to her rosy lips that Harry likes to tire.

“Well…” He trailed off, replacing her fingers with his as he traced them over her jaw and lips. “If your lips aren’t sore then I’m not kissing you properly.” His whisper was low but echoed around her with the breeze.

“And if they’re not bruised…then I did not kiss you at all.” The red color of the blanket beneath didn’t stand a chance against Y/n’s cherry-red cheeks.

Her face fell hiding from Harry’s piercing gaze as she let out a chuckle. But she couldn’t really do that for long—Harry had a face that deserved staring at, especially since the sunlight was hugging it.

The subtle blonde scruff that scratched her every time he kissed her suited him so well. She didn’t mind the feeling it gave her—she even thought about how it would feel between her thighs.

They haven’t done anything sexual so far—he had been so respectful of her boundaries and waited for her to open the topic. She preferred waiting a bit longer—though she was craving simpler things—just like feeling him dip between her thighs.

“How’s Snowy?”

“He misses you. Almost brought him with me ‘cause Niall refused to babysit him but I eventually dropped him off at George’s.” He replied with an eye roll, remembering the rivalry between his pet and Niall.

“Well, I guess if he misses me then… I could spend the night?” She laid her head down on the blanket, observing as Harry’s face that hovered over hers brightened.

“Only coming for Snowy, eh?” He teased her, their faces inches apart.

“And you! Movie night?” Their movie nights grew popular as they picked a movie to watch every other night on his couch before ending up asleep with their limbs tangled.

“I’ll choose this time.” He caressed her soft hair, allowing his fingers to swipe through it—spreading the strawberry scent against his hand.

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and his mind drifted to all the ways he could teach her not to roll her eyes at him.

They continued chatting, giggling, and kissing. They fed each other fruits and crumbs of the sandwiches while Harry insisted on wiping her mouth with a napkin. As the sun began to set, he jumped on his feet—running to the car, and coming back before Y/n could blink.

Whatever he held was hidden in his arms behind his back. She tried to steal a glance and failed.

“What do you have there?” He looked so much taller now that she was sitting.

A tall handsome man who kisses her every chance he gets—he surely escaped from one of the books she read.

“Give me your sweet smile shortcake.” He revealed a Polaroid camera and directed it at her, waiting for a cute pose with her wide smile before snapping a picture.

He kneeled next to her, waiting for the picture on the Polaroid to appear while she seemed more eager than him.

“Show me—I want it.” She giggled, attempting to see the picture that he was smiling at.

“No! It’s mine.” He hid it in his wallet while she climbed on his lap to persuade him with kisses.

He eventually folded and agreed to show her before immediately tucking it back in. Y/n only did what was fair and square—she used the camera to take a selfie of them that came out surprisingly successful and took it for herself.

“I’ll get back at you.” He threatened as they lay on the blanket hand in hand.

They sat in comfortable silence staring at the cloudless sky for what seemed like forever before Harry sat straight and handed her a book that she didn’t notice before.

“Read for me.” It was Emily Dickinson’s selected poems that he got her months ago—she had forgotten it at his garage and he brought it here to return it, and to hear her sweet voice telling the poems.

“Oh? You can’t read?” She teased, grabbing the book from his hand.

“Not when you can do it way better.” He rested his face in his palm waiting for her to begin as she flipped through the pages.

She cleared her throat before laying her fingers upon a nice poem while the Sun was setting behind her—casting a golden hue on her back making her appear as a sunlit angel.

“To see her is a Picture

To hear her is a tune—

To know her an intemperance—

As innocent as June—

To know her not— Affliction—

To own her for a friend

A warmth as near as if the Sun

Were shining in your hand”

Harry’s eyes couldn’t shift from her, and his ears blocked out the sounds of nature around him to fully indulge in her poem reading.

She read, poem after poem, blessing his ears with beautiful prose and her sweet voice. He wished he could record it and listen to it before he went to sleep.

They eventually packed up as the sun began to set, content with their first date and the memories they made.

They repeated the same routine as earlier: Harry opening the door for her, and driving to his house as they sang their hearts out to songs she chose.

Then he’ll make her feel at home, give her the Pyjamas she leaves at his sometimes or one of his oversized shirts. Dinner will be ready for her as he ends up folding and lets her choose a rom-com. Snow Bun will snuggle in with his strawberry sweater that she got for him and rest on their lap.

It was days like these that Harry looked up to. Any moment spent with his shortcake was more precious than anything else he could think of. Every detail about her was enough to have him dream of her at night lulling him into a blissful sleep.

He wasn’t too surprised though— for he felt that she would hold him captive.

She was his sweet girl—too sweet.

Taglist: @matildasatellite @xxrosebunny @novasblogofstuff @gem1712 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @tiaamberxx @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tbsloneely @prettythingsworld @st-ev-ie @slut4marvelmenn @missmielyhoran @a-strange-familiar @wandas-lawyer @blepskies @hslt-2809 @epidxte @kiwilikesmeow @harryssideboob @malwtilda @harrysficreblog @hsonlyangelxo @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @indierockgirrl @annesauriol @leenameh @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @nysworld @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @rueluvsharry @lomlhstyles @infinatetatie

Divider from @dollywons

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oracle-of-dream · 3 days

Text

Sweetness #7 (Final)

Minors DNI

This is the final chapter of the Sweetness series! Thank you for reading till the end!

Summary: Riize proposed a competition to you. Whoever can please you the best tonight. Gets to keep you... If you're conscious enough to choose a winner.

Warnings: Male reader, a lot of dicks, Justice for Sungchan, Throat fucking, Group sex, Multiple Orgasms, Stomach Bulge, Creampie, Handjob, Blowjob (Rec & Giving), Rough Sex, Talk him thought it, Bukkakke, Crying, Overstimulation

Wordcount: 3.7k

You opened your eyes and groaned as you rolled over in bed. You'd fallen asleep at some point but didn't feel any better. It was the third time you'd woken up, still in Sungchan's room. On the desk was a cup of water and a change of clothes–you were still naked under the covers. You got out of bed, put on your clothes, and drank the water.

Your brain was still full, wondering about what to do about tonight… Tonight, seven handsome men would have their way with you. And you had to choose which one to have as a boyfriend... The whole situation sounded like a bad movie–but this was your bad movie. Sungchan, Anton, Seunghan, Eunseok, Shotaro, Sohee, and Wonbin. All of Riize wanted you. And you felt guilty for wanting each of them too. How could you possibly choose?

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts.

Anton poked his head through as he opened the door."Hey, y/n? I thought you might be hungry, so I cooked you something." Your stomach answered before you could. The thought of food sounded amazing right now. Anton put the plate on the desk–pancakes, Anton's specialty.

"Thanks, Anton, these look great." You stabbed at the pancakes with a fork and started eating as he watched you.

While picking at his nails nervously, Anton sighed before speaking. "Y/n, I don't want to make you feel like you have to choose anyone... It's a lot of pressure." Anton scooted closer to you, his dark hair dusting his eyes as he examined you. "But, if you were to choose... I-I just want you to know I'm here for you–even if you don't pick me. I'll always be here for you..."

You stopped eating, looking up at Anton. "You don't think I'd choose you?"

"I don't want to assume. The others have all of their charms, and I know I'm quiet and shy. It makes sense that you like them more."

"Anton, you're charming! You're so funny, and I love it when you play your cello for me. You're so talented and kind."

Anton's hand covered his face, trying to hide the silly expression on his face. "T-Thanks, but–"

"But nothing! Anyone would be lucky to have you."

"I don't want anyone else..." Anton's words hung in the air. Your appetite was gone, pancakes half-eaten, and your stomach rumbled ruthlessly. The pressure and guilt returned with a vengeance. "I-I didn't mean to try and make you do anything! I was just trying to be honest."

The door suddenly burst open. Sungchan was standing in the doorway. "Anton, out. We all agreed we wouldn't do anything to mess with y/n. We'd let them think."

"Keeping me in here isn't very fair, is it?"

"No one will stop you from coming outside, y/n."

"The staring is... You all won't stop looking at me when I come out. And making Anton leave for talking to me, makes me feel like I'm in jail or something."

Sungchan looked at Anton, then over his shoulder as he spotted the others around the corner trying to listen in on the conversation. "Right... Sorry, I'll tell them to try and relax. I wasn't– I didn't mean to... Nevermind." He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

You slumped onto the desk with a sigh. "See what I mean? Everyone's so tense right now–and it's my fault. I shouldn't have done this in the first place."

Anton knelt, looking up at you. "We all want you. Not because of anything you did. All of us, in some way, liked you before you slept with us. And now that we know everyone else's feelings, we're just trying to get to you before the others... But we're also not being very considerate to you, are we?"

Anton understood you, which made you feel better, but you couldn't get over the situation. "I spend more time alone. Thanks for checking on me, Anton..."

He nodded. "Of course, call me if you need anything else. I'll leave the food here if you get hungry." He stood and left, closing the door gently behind him.

You went back to bed, drifting off to sleep for the fourth time, surrounded by only your thoughts to keep you company. You don't know how much time passed but the next time you woke up, there was a voice near you.

"You're even more precious like this..."

You laid still, eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

"What if you really don't choose me? I don't know if my heart can take it... I liked you first. So, why not pick me?" It was Wonbin, without a doubt. You felt breath on your cheek as a weight was placed on your chest. He laid his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. "Your heart's racing. I wonder what you're dreaming about..."

You opened your eyes and said, "Would you laugh if I said you?"

Wonbin's eyes lit up seeing you awake. "I'd love it if you dreamed of me..."

"What if I dreamed of more than you?"

"What else did you dream about?"

You hesitated, wondering if this was the right thing to say, but Wonbin's eyes encouraged you to be honest. "I dreamed about everyone. All of us were happy, together.”

"You want all of us?"

You nodded. "I don't think I can choose one of you. I love you all... And I want each of you to be mine. The same way I want to be yours."

Wonbin took your hand, placing it on his heart. "If it makes you happy, then I'll be willing to share. But, we've gotta come up with a schedule or something. Sungchan gets possessive."

"Will a relationship of eight people work?"

"Probably not forever. But if everyone loves you, then it has to." Wonbin's heartbeat was steady, and his hands were warm and soft. His smile was tender as he looked into your eyes.

"How should I tell them? They want a competition..."

"Well, how about we talk to them about it? And, we can celebrate by fucking you–as one big poly couple." Wonbin winked at you with a smirk.

You nodded as he helped you out of the bed. Fingers locked with each other, Wonbin led you out of the room. The others were all in the living room, the tense air relaxed when they all saw you.

Wonbin cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention. "Y/n has something they want to tell us. So, let's be quiet and hear him out."

You stepped into the room fully, holding Wonbin's hand for support. Sohee and Shotaro were looking at you brightly, ready to listen. Sungchan and Anton were eyeing your hand, wrapped tightly with Wonbin's. Eunseok and Seunghan were more nonchalant, not showing how they felt, but listening.

"I-I wanna ask you all. It's just too hard for me to choose one of you, and I hate the thought of losing any of you." You looked around the room, reading their faces. "I... wanted to try and have all of you. If you'd let me, I want all of you to be my boyfriends."

Seunghan looked around. "So, we're dating each other, too?"

"If you want. Or if you're just willing to share me, that's fine too."

Sungchan's jaw went slack. "So, we're all going to share you? Is that even possible?"

"I don't know..."

Wonbin stepped forward. "I already agreed to the idea. If you don't want him, feel free to say no and leave more for me. You don't have to say yes."

Anton jumped up from his seat. "Y-Yes! I say, yes." Anton's face was flushed but filled with relief. Eunseok and Seunghan agreed next. Then Shotaro. And Sohee. The last one standing was Sungchan...

"So... we're all okay with this? Sharing you? I'm not–"

"Then fuck off, Sungchan." Wonbin pulled you into his arms.

"I'm not opposed!" Sungchan stepped forward. "But I just don't know how it'll work... I want you so bad, I don't know if I can share you with the others."

You nodded. "I get that I'm asking for a lot. It's different, and I don't know if it'll work forever... But I want to try."

Sungchan approached you slowly, lifting your chin. "Are you sure?"

"Y-Yes..."

Sungchan softly kissed your lips, closing his eyes and giving you his heart. "Then, I'm on board. If it's you..."

"Scoot over, it's my turn," Seunghan said as he pushed Sungchan aside, kissing you too. One by one, your boyfriends kissed your lips as they each promised their love to you.

Wonbin cleared his throat. "Well, now that we got the hard part out the way. I've got an idea to celebrate!" Your smile immediately dropped as you remembered what Wonbin's plan was... "We should break in our new boyfriend together, right guys?"

Sungchan scooped you into his arms. "Who's got the biggest bed?"

"Wonbin's is a queen!" Sohee answered.

Sungchan carried you to Wonbin's bed as he kissed your cheeks. When he placed you on the bed, he pulled off his shirt and almost dove into you before Shotaro stopped him.

"Who's going first then? How do we decide?"

"I'll take his ass, and you guys can have the rest," Sungchan scoffed.

"Hold the fuck on, that's not right. We all get to fuck him properly, but we need something in the meantime, okay? Our baby can do that, right?" Seunghan looked at you with a smirk as you looked around at all of them.

"What should I do?"

"We'll show you..." He said as he led the charge. Seunghan kissed you as he stripped off your shirt. "Now, you've got two hands, do something with 'em." Sohee and Shotaro stepped forward, cocks out, ready for your hands as they fucked your hands the way they liked. "Good boy, lay on your back, head off the bed." You rolled over and around, making your head hang off the bed. "I've got a mouth that needs to be filled, who’s in?" Anton's fat cock slapped your cheek as he knelt to you.

"I'll try to be easier this time," He whispered as he pushed his cock into your waiting mouth.

"Eunseok, come help me here." Seunghan and Eunseok organized themselves by your legs. Eunseok under you and Seunghan over you. "He's been stretched out by dick for days, so he can take this, right?" Seunghan chuckled as he slid his cock into your ass, making you moan around Anton. "Eunseok, now you." Eunseok followed orders as he stretched you more, with two cocks in your ass.

The feeling was more than full. You were being stimulated almost everywhere–your hands, mouth, and ass were all being used.

"What about us?" Sungchan complained.

Seunghan chuckled. "I don't know, jerk each other off until you get your turn. Just be patient, we all deserve a turn inside, y/n."

Wonbin looked at Sungchan. "Yeah–no. I've got something I'm gonna do, you can jerk off and watch alone." Wonbin entered the fray, finding a spot and he started licking your cock before sucking it. Now you were being completely stimulated.

Sungchan, at first, stood proudly as he watched. But his hard dick was straining in his pants more than he could take... Before he knew it, he was jerking off to you getting fucked–loving every second. The sounds of sex were so loud in the room, you couldn't hear your thoughts. Your cock was being sucked, your hands fuck, your mouth full, and your ass was split in two... There was so much happening.

The first person to start losing it was Sohee, understandably since he was the least experienced... He was fucking your hand too fast, loving the softness of your hand and the power-high he got from controlling the pace.

"Sungchan, take Sohee's place. We don't want him busting too early," Seunghan teased as he thrust into you. His pace was the opposite of Eunseok's–when one pushed in, the other pulled out. Eunseok loved the way you squeezed him when he thrust into you. Sungchan took Sohee's place as he lazily stroked himself with your hand, still warm from Sohee's cum. The next person to cum was Eunseok. His climax snuck up on him as he came inside you, biting into your skin which made you suck harder on Anton who was sweating as he tried to hold back. Eunseok pulled out of you, and Anton took his place. Shotaro moved to your mouth and Wonbin moved your hand to jerk him off while he focused on your cock.

Even with two members down, you were still completely occupied. Anton's cock was bigger than Eunseok so he pushed deeper. The Seunghan picked up his pace, signaling he was close. "Okay, lovely, I'm gonna fill you!" He announced as he fucked through his orgasm mixing his cum with Eunseok's. As soon as he was out, Shotaro was in. Shotaro's thrusts were sharper than Seunghan's and you could feel how swollen his cock was from your mouth.

"Sungchan, I can suck you too," you offered.

"I've had enough of you sucking me, I wanna save for the best part. But I'll take a kiss." Sungchan cradled your head as he kissed you. you moaned into his mouth as Anton and Shotaro fucked into you. You tried to focus on the kiss, but your orgasm was climbing too quickly to slow down. You bit on Sungchan's tongue as your whole body tensed–squeezing the cocks in your ass and shooting cum into Wonbin's mouth.

Wonbin pulled off you with a loud pop. "That's what I wanted..."

Shotaro couldn't last long after lasting through your hand and mouth, cumming inside you as well. But before Wonbin or Sungchan could take his place, Sohee stepped back up. "I might be a little fast, y/n. I'm still sensitive, but I'll cum inside you and make you feel great." Sohee was true to his word–he came quickly after getting into you, his thick cock rubbing against Antons and being squeezed by your... He had no chance. He returned to his spot with the others, on the ground with their flaccid cocks dripping excess cum.

Wonbin took the chance to take Sohee's spot, fucking you now. Anton and Wonbin were having an unspoken competition, or it felt like it with the way they were both fucking you so fast.

"Is little Anton gonna cum soon? You're slowing down~" Wonbin Teased.

"I can do this for at least an hour," Anton grunted through gritted teeth.

Sungchan watched you cutely shaking on the bed as they fucked you. He laid your head on his leg so you didn't hurt your neck as you jerked him off. You occasionally popped his cock in your mouth to wet it, but Sungchan wouldn't let you suck on it for too long.

It was getting down to the wire in their competition. Anton and Wonbin had fucked you for almost a full seven minutes, not slowing down.

"Jeez guys, he'll pass out at this rate... Y/n, say something."

You spoked your mouth and a loud moan escaped. You tried to form a sentence but you could only throw out fragments. "I-I can't... Cock... So good... I–love my boyfriends..."

Anton and Wonbin came at the same time hearing you say that you love them. Wonbin, above you, had hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as his eyes rolled back. Anton, below you, gripped your sides so hard you screamed slightly from how he squeezed the air out of you. The two took a moment to breathe before pulling out of you and joining the pile of men. Eunseok and Seunghan put their clothes back on–even getting a snack.

Sungchan was last. "Finally... My turn," He grumbled as he turned your body with ease. "Can you handle a little more, y/n?"

"Anything... for you," You said in between breaths.

"That's my baby." Sungchan kissed you as he slotted himself between your legs. "I've been waiting so long for your sloppy hole around me, even letting them go first..."

You mewled in protest. "I-I'm not sloppy..."

"Yes, you are. See?" Sungchan pushed his cock into you, slick with all the cum in you. "So slippery, so sloppy..."

You hissed in pain. "Wait! You're too big–"

He paused. "Too big? Even after all that?" You'd seen his cock before, it was big, about the same as Anton's. So why was it so much bigger now... Was he not even all the way hard before? Sungchan scooped you in his arms, wrapping them tight around you.

"Be honest, did you get bigger?"

He chuckled. "Probably. It's not easy for me to get completely hard, most of it's just a half–like before. Just tell me if I need to slow down. You almost have it."

Wonbin spoke up. "He's lying, there's another five inches to go."

Your eyes widened at 5 inches. Your eyes were wet with tears. "S-Sungchan, I don't think I can... Please, be careful–"

Sungchan tried to smile. "Baby, you've taken so much cock already... And you want to skip me? You fucked all of them twice and I got a blowjob once." Sungchan's voice got deeper the more he spoke. "I'll make it fit." You trembled under Sungchan. "Here it comes," He cooed as he kissed you through it. He held your thighs, pushed your knees toward your head, and pushed deeper into you. You instantly clutched his massive arms, they flexed as he controlled your body. His cock filled you more than any of the members hard, reaching places none of them had, you shook and tears rolled down your face.

"How are you still squeezing me like this? Is it because of this?" Sungchan moved your hand to your stomach where you could feel a bump. "That's me, baby. Moving your guts to get inside you." Sungchan rolled his hips into you, making the bulge shift. You moaned and realized it wasn't just you. The other members of Riize were jerking off as they watched Sungchan's display of strength and size. "Make as much noise as you want." Sungchan licked your neck. "But make sure to say something if I need to stop." He pulled back slightly before pushing back into you, hitting your spot in the center. Your back arched as he put your legs on his shoulders and moved his hands to the bed you held himself up. He was planking over you as he fucked into you. Maybe it was the position or his cock. It only took three thrusts for you to cum again. "We should get you a cock ring. If not, you'll run out of cum every time we fuck."

You couldn't even register his sentence with the way you convulsed around Sungchan's cock as your boyfriend railed you. His pace wasn't too fast, but it was hard. The bed shifted, but the sound was drowned out by your whines and cries. Sungchan smirked as he got an idea, making his hand into your newest necklace which earned a gasp from you. He drank the look in your eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. You were zooming toward your next orgasm, crying. Your brain was a scattered mess.

"...M-More, p-please." You muttered.

Sungchan's eyebrows raised. "Oh, you're such a slut... You want more!?" He looked over to the others, who were jerking each other off. "Don't just stand there, your boyfriend needs a cum shower!" The members of Riize surrounded you as Sungchan fucked you. "Don't worry baby, we're all here to satisfy you." Sungchan fucked into you faster, moving toward his climax. "We'll cum all together."

Everyone agreed as they were all close.

It wasn't long before you let out a scream, as you came for the third time. Riize painted you with cum, either jerking themselves or helping each other get there. Sungchan came inside you, leaning back as he did to get as deep as possible and watch the show.

You saw white–or maybe someone's cum got in your eye. But there was nothing after. The next time you opened your eyes, you were in bed–fully clothed. Your hair was brushed, your body cleaned, and the bed was washed. Like nothing had happened. You moved to look around but there was an immense surge of pain that shot up your back, making you yelp.

"Y/n? He's up!" Wonbin shouted to the rest of the house as he entered the room. He gently moved you to your original position. "You should lay still, baby. You're not ready to walk around yet..."

Your body ached all over. "What the fuck happened!? I feel like I was hit by a bus." Your voice was hoarse, so much that it didn't sound like you were speaking.

The others trickled into the room. Sungchan knelt by you. "Hey, you okay?"

"No," You grunted.

He smiled, nervously. "I may have gone a little overboard... But you did ask for more."

"What happened?"

"You passed out from Sungchan's horse cock pushing too deep into you," Eunseok explained. The others had spread out around the bed, so they could all see. "We've been taking turns keeping an eye on you for when you wake up..."

"So, now what?" You groaned.

"Painkillers, cough drops, and service from your seven amazing boyfriends, who will get you whatever you need," Sungchan said as he kissed your hands. "I'll be your carriage, and carry you anywhere you want." You smiled at them... Your boyfriends. The feeling might've been too much, or maybe it was the pain, but you started sobbing–much to their dismay.

"Nice one, Sungchan, you made him cry." Seunghan smacked Sungchan's shoulder.

They brought you gifts and food until you were stable enough to stand. Sungchan followed you everywhere, in case you needed him to carry you. Anton played his cello for you while Eunseok brought you video games. Sohee and Wonbin sang for you while Shotaro massaged you. Seunghan would take care of you when the others weren't watching and brought you candy and any other treats you wanted.

You were so lucky to have Riize as your boyfriends...

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piinkpraise · 2 days

Text

sorry...📣

MDNI 18+

warnings: loser!ellie, cheerleader!reader, dombottom!reader, subtop!ellie, swearing, oral (r!receiving), ellie get's off on the bed.

a/n: glad loser!ellie won, will be making mean!abby tho soon.

the air was humid, making the sweat from your two french braids, tied at the end with pink ribbon, dripping down your forehead and on your eyelashes. it was hotter than an oven in the late spring air. you're surprised the hairs from your braids aren't sticking up from the humidity, but your tank top and small short shorts were dripping, sweat dripped down your chest and into your bra, and pooled at your inner thighs, right where your legs met your pubic bone.

just as you tried to nail that back flip off the top of the pyramid, the air whooshing around you, a sigh of relief fell from your lips as you finally got that desperate breeze. you landed, stumbling to the side as your right ankle twisted below your weight. you stumbled to the side, your legs intertwining with one another as you fell with a thud on your butt right on the turf football field.

it was just a twist, stuff like that happens all the time, but it still hurt like the devil. a stinging ache in your ankle, you just needed a minute.

you look forward as your coach puts her hand on your shoulder and inspects your ankle, shushing you and telling you your flip looked good. but you looked forward and saw no one but ellie standing behind the bleachers near the parking lot and giving you a smile with a thumbs up.

you smile at her, pushing your hands into the turf and pulling yourself up. when your practice was over, you walked over to ellie who immediately paraded you with questions if you were okay. "i'm okay els, I promise" you told her with a smile as she walked you to her car.

"are you sure..do you need ice, I can stop at a CVS and get you some wrap for that ankle.." she says, stammering over her words.

"it's ok, i'll be ok, promise" you say to her as you sit in her car, buckling your seatbelt.

"okay.." she says getting in on her side of the car and starting it. "you won't believe what i learned today" she exclaims with the sweetest possible smile on that pretty face of hers.

she talked about some fact about a dinosaur for the rest of the night, even when you were in the shower, she sat on the toilet and talked as you showered. now the two of you lay in bed, her fingers pointing out the window at various stars, telling you about them.

her hand rested on your inner thigh, stroking the soft skin up and down, unconscious of her actions. it drove you crazy.

it was driving you crazy how she'd touch you in intimate places all the time while she yapped, her hand on your ass, on your tit, as she spoke, and she never seemed to know it.

"ellie.." you mumble.

"yeah babe?" she says softly, looking at you with shimmery eyes.

you didn't know how to connect with her how you felt, so you connected your lips with her, pushing your tongue into her mouth. her hand squeezes your thigh and you moan into her mouth, trying to give her a hint.

"c-can I touch you?" she asks you.

"you can touch me" you smile reassuringly.

so she does, she straddles you and kisses your neck, marking you with her aquaphor coated lips. you tug at the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head to leave her in her sports bra.

the look on her face was so adorable, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide with a sparkle. you were so captured by her face, you didn't realize she tugged at your own shirt, urging you to take it off.

you sit up slightly and pull your shirt over your head, the fabric sliding along your back before you place it gently down on your bed. when you look back up, ellie's face is turned away from you, shielding her eyes like you two were friends changing in front of each other.

"els you can look" you giggle, making her slowly turn her head to stare at your bare chest, your tits perky and round with anticipation. ellie clears her throat but her eyes stare at your chest for what seems like forever, breathing heavy. her cheeks were flushed of color and her eyes were blown, lips swollen and hair messy. "hey..look at me.." you whisper, tilting her chin up.

"if you're too nervous we don't have to do this" you tell her. you knew how anxious she got in new situations, it was foreign to you and her, you were accepting of any ideas, but ellie freaked out in a situation that she didn't know.

she shakes her head quickly, opening her mouth to talk. "n-no i wanna..i really wanna.." she whispers. from her turned around position before, she moves her body, straddling your legs. a hand reluctantly gripping your tit in her large tatted hand. her eyes were blown wide like she had just seen the most incredible thing ever as her index and thumb roll your nipple between her fingers, a soft sigh falling from your lips. "i...I just- your boobies are really pretty" she whispers.

a small chuckle forced past your lips at the word 'boobies'. she immediately moved and sat on the edge of the bed, head buried in her hands. "fuck i meant boobs i- shit" she shook her head, the heal of her palm digging into her eyes.

you let giggles escape your lips as you sat up from against the headboard and moved over on the bed, your mattress squeaking. you sat on your calves and your hands went to rub up and down her soft back. you leaned into her and kissed her shoulder. "i know what you meant pretty girl, it's okay" you try and reassure her.

"fuck...i fucked this up" her voice was shaky and breaking. you could feel your heart hurt in your chest as she said that, the last thing you wanted your girl to feel was like she ruined stuff, which she often thought. "no baby, you didn't fuck it up, i'll always want you." you try and soothe her, holding her hand and kissing her knuckles. "no..now it's ruined.." she mutters.

"it's not ruined angel,"

"and i sound creepy for saying i think your.." she nods to your chest. "...are pretty.." she mutters.

"you like 'em?" you ask her, trying to distract her.

"y-yeah.." she mutters.

"why don't you touch 'em baby, if you wanna, go ahead, you can touch 'em" you tell her, taking her hand and placing it on your boob. your chest heaved with each breath, your nipple pushing against ellie's palm each time your chest rose. "it's ok baby...go ahead...these are yours now," you tell her, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"mine?" she asks so innocently.

"yours baby." you smile softly at her. she moved, turning to face you again. she looked at you and traced your overly sensitive nipples with her thumb, soft sighs coming from you which only encouraged her. "good girl..." you tell her, her mouth latching onto your nipple as she sucked lazily.

"how 'bout you eat me out...can you do that for me angel?" you say gently, cupping your palm to stroke the apple of her cheek as she sucked your nipple, rolling her tongue over it every couple seconds.

"i- yes please- yes- i'd-i'd like that." she nodded quickly with eagerness. you chuckle and shimmy off your shorts, kicking them off the bed when they are on your ankle. you were clad only in your lace panties, ellie practically moaning at the sight.

she crawled between your legs and spreads your leg apart. "you're so wet...look..." she mumbles and runs a finger through your folds, holding up the sticky wetness on her finger.

"you're s'wet..is this for me..?" she asks.

you smile at her and cup her cheek. "all for you.." you tell her.

she moves your panties aside and licks a bold stripe up your cunt, moaning at how you taste. "oh my god you taste s'good" ellie moans as she practically rips your panties off and throws them else where before grabbing your thigh in each hand, pulling your legs far apart and absolutely devouring you.

it was like she hadn't eaten in weeks. she looked starved as your juices messily coated her face, smearing all across her face. her head shook side to side and her mouth wrapped around your clit, a loud harsh moan ripped through your throat. she sucked at your pearl, tongue flicking it and teeth scraping it.

she gave head like a mad woman.

"oh god baby..just like that, that's it.." you moan, tugging at the auburn strands that rooted to her scalp and twirling them around your finger. your moans and whimpers made her jut her hips into the bed.

"that feel good..yeah..bet it does baby..comon, fuck yourself on my sheets" you say, making her moan loudly into your pussy.

it wasn't the messy, sloppy, heaven sent head ellie was giving you that made you close, yes it was the best thing you'd ever felt, and her skilled tongue was certainly helping, but it was rutting her hips into your sheets, whimpering, whining, and moaning into you as her motions just got more aggressive and faster.

it only made you throw your head back in pleasure when ellie stuck two fingers in curling them into your tight cunt. your bed squeaked and creaked the faster she got with her movements. "fuck, harder baby, go fucking- ohmygo- harder!" you moan loudly, hips bucking into her pretty face,

she obliged, her fingers pounding in and out of you as your cunt talked loudly. "oh my god els you're gonna make me cum- good girl so a good fucking girl, comon baby, cum with mommy" you moan through your words.

it was the word 'mommy' that sent ellie over the edge, her hips freezing as her eyes rolled back and she moaned so loudly, vibrating your pussy.

you caught up to her, your orgasm washing over you like the best thing in the world. because it was.

when you both came back from earth, she looked up, tips of her eyelashes brushed with cum. "oh my god" you chuckle, bringing her up to be level with you. "was that good...?" she asked you timidly.

"was that good angel- that was- fuck that was great" you chuckle.

"really?" she asks excitedly.

"really baby" you smile

"angel.." ellie says softly, stroking your hair.

"Yeah?"

"I love you" she says, eyes wide.

"i love you too baby" you smile.

and she talked about how you were the sun and she was the earth and she orbited you.

#tlou #ellie williams #tlou ellie #ellie williams smut #tlou smut #lesbian #ellie #tlou x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #loser!ellie #smut #lesbian smut #wlw smut #men and minors dni #the last of us #the last of us smut

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nordschleifes · 3 days

Text

while you're busy making other plans

➝ your secret with fernando is leaked to the world. and you deal with it in the most chaotic way possible

➝ word count: 4,4k

➝ warnings: coparenting, lies, press, andrea being a little shit and fernando dealing poorly with press

➝ author's note: part two of this one shot. hope you enjoy it.

The notification that appeared on your phone screen.

It displayed a thumbnail image of you standing with Fernando in the Aston Martin garage, while he ran his hand through Leon's hair. You had been talking about that day’s sessions, with your son detailing how impressed he had been with the mechanics' work in getting his car ready for each stage of qualifying.

However, the caption of the photo turned your stomach. “They know about Leon”, the message said.

That was what you feared most since the day your son was born. You had read enough articles on the pages of Spanish magazines to know that you didn't want that life for him. But, at the same time, you knew that all that effort would go down the drain one day, especially when Leon began to understand the real intention of the excuses and compromises you made up to prevent his identity from being revealed.

You just didn't expect this day to come so quickly.

The knock on the door made you wake up from your thoughts, jumping out of bed towards the entrance of the suite. When your eyes met Fernando's, you felt your throat tighten.

— Y/N — he murmured.

— Come in — you managed to say, opening the door.

The driver passed you silently, head down. You didn't need anything else to know that he had already seen the photos and that he wasn't happy with them.

— What now? — you asked softly, as he sat down on the bed.

— I don't know, Y/N — Fernando replied, running a hand through his hair — Where is...

— With Alberto, I asked him to take Leon to his room so we could talk.

The driver let out a sigh as you sat down next to him.

— I have no idea how that happened — he muttered.

— Well, it has always been a possibility, and you know it.

Fernando looked at you with a serious expression.

— The thing is, nobody knew who you were. Alberto was careful to request the credentials in the team's name and not mine, we arrived separately — he pointed out — Did Leon say anything to anyone?

— No, no — you replied, shaking your head — He stayed with me or Alberto the whole time, he didn't say anything much.

Silence took over the room for a few seconds.

— This was leaked — Fernando finally said — Someone leaked it to the press...

— Do you think Luis…

— No, not him. It wasn't anyone around me, I'm sure. Everyone knows that Leon's privacy is the most important thing to me. They wouldn't do that to me, Y/N...

— What guarantees you that they wouldn't do it for money or...

— Y/N, no one close to me would do that — the driver interrupted you, a note of irritation in his voice — Everyone knows that Leon is the most important person in my life and that he is my priority. They wouldn't be able to, I know that.

You had no way of opposing him in that sense. Everyone who knew Leon's real identity were people connected to Fernando for almost 20 years and who knew him well enough to know how careful he was with his son. However, your mind went to the people who were no longer around Fernando, and the realization hit you like a train.

— Andrea — you murmured, before looking at him — It could only have been her.

The driver pressed his lips into a thin line.

— Are you sure?

— She's the only one who could have leaked this.

— Y/N, we can't get ahead of ourselves.

— She knows we're here on the circuit, she saw when I arrived with Leon — you argued, despair rising in your chest.

— That doesn't mean she did it, Y/N — he countered. This made you jump to your feet, feeling a wave of anger rising up your neck.

— How so? She is the only one who is no longer in your inner circle who knows Leon and has contact with the press.

— Andrea wouldn't use Leon against me, Y/N, she knows he's the most important person in my life — Fernando replied, making you bring your hand to his face in disbelief. You couldn't believe he couldn't see what was clear in front of him.

— And that's precisely why she would do that! — you yelled — She wants to hit you where it hurts, Fernando! She wants you to be sad too, to suffer! Don't you understand that?!

Fernando remained silent, looking at you with a grim expression on his face.

— Now, our son's face is everywhere because your ex-girlfriend can't accept that you don't want anything to do with her! — You continued, anger dripping from his words.

— Y/N…

— What?!

— She was the one who broke up with me.

The revelation hit you like a punch in the stomach. If Andrea was the one who had broken up with Fernando, supposed revenge on her part wouldn't make any sense. If she didn't want to be with him, there would be no reason to reveal Leon's identity to the press.

You were back to square one.

— Do you want to know why? — he asked softly, as you sat down next to him again.

— Did she give a reason?

— She said that I had well-defined priorities and that she wasn't one of them.

— Priorities?

— The work, Leon — Fernando hesitated for a few seconds — You.

You felt a churning sensation in your stomach.

— Me? What do I have to do with it?

The driver sighed heavily.

— I always made it clear from the beginning that you and Leon were an essential part of my life — he explained — Andrea accepted it well, but when she realized that I wouldn't give up living with you two, that I wanted to have you around, I think something changed in her mind.

— So she left you and decided to get revenge on top of that? — you questioned.

— It doesn't matter now, Y/N. What matters is that everyone knows about Leon and that we need to do something.

You clenched your jaw, deep in thought. It didn't matter who leaked the story, but rather what you would do to protect Leon from the approaching media storm.

— You can say you don’t know us…

— It’s not possible, there are photos of us on other occasions, with my parents, with Alberto…

— You can say he's Alberto's — you murmured, looking at your hands — We can pretend we're a couple, I believe he won't mind that, especially in these circumstances...

— No, definitely not — Fernando said, his voice firm — You will not compromise because of an error in judgment I made.

— So, you're just going to deny everything?

— Do I have another choice, Y/N?

— They won't buy this story...

— It's my word against that of an anonymous source, Y/N — the driver interrupted you — I can say that you are a friend of mine and that I have great affection for you and your family. That's simple.

You were thinking about the countless questions that could arise from that answer when the door to the suite opened.

— Papá! — Leon exclaimed, turning around the bed to go to Fernando and hug him.

— Hola, mijo — he said, forcing a smile on the boy — How are you?

— Good — the boy replied, as he sat on his lap — I was playing Mario Kart with Galle.

When you looked back, you found Fernando's manager and friend with a small smile on his face as he watched Leon with his father. However, as soon as his eyes met your, you could see the worry that permeated them.

— I bet you beat him, didn't you? — the driver asked.

— Yes, I won — Leon said, smiling — Galle slipped a lot on the banana peels!

— If someone hadn't thrown the peels at me, I would have arrived first — he countered, making the boy laugh — I'm going to have my revenge, there's no point in laughing, okay?

— I want to see that, huh? — Fernando said, while his son continued to provoke Alberto, talking about how he couldn't stop bumping at his opponents.

However, the relaxed air of the conversation was haunted by the dark cloud of reality. The looks you exchanged with the two men contained silent messages, requests for normality to be maintained, for everything to remain the same, for Leon's sake. And considering the subtle nods and goodnight hugs they gave the boy, you were sure that the three of you were completely committed to this mission.

The next day featured all the chaos that kept you awake for most of the night. With a cap firmly placed on Leon's head and the instruction to keep his head down, you entered the paddock holding his hand firmly. The questions mixed with the sound of camera clicks, focused on the reactions of the two of you.

— Leon, Leon, here! — one shouted.

— Where did you meet Fernando, Y/N? — another asked.

— Y/N, can you answer a question for us? — a third asked, as you climbed the stairs of the Aston Martin motorhome without saying a word. However, your expectation of going unnoticed there was shattered when you noticed the curious looks of the employees and guests who were there, the whispers multiplying.

You were still frozen in the same spot when you felt someone pull your hand.

— Mamá, can we go upstairs? — Leon asked softly, a shy expression on his face — I want to see papá.

— Yes, my love, let's go.

Trying to ignore the way you were being observed, you headed up the stairs towards Fernando's room, praying that there was no one else in the hallways of the motorhome. When you opened the door, however, you found Fernando accompanied by Alberto and Fabri, the three of them talking about something that was on Alberto's cell phone screen. Upon noticing their serious expressions, you made to close the door, but Leon reacted faster than you.

— Papá! — the boy exclaimed, entering the room without any ceremony, running into his father's arms — Happy birthday!

Fernando greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, seeming not to mind the interruption. Closing the door, you could feel the tension building up in your neck, making your movements somewhat painful. However, this was not the time to let that show, not when Leon was so happy.

— Thank you so much, my love. You don't know how happy having you here makes me.

— Mamá and I have a gift for you! — he said, looking at you with an expectation that made you give a small smile.

— A gift? — the driver followed his son's gaze, seeming interested — You know you don't need to give me anything, right?

— Leon insisted — you replied, as you opened your bag and took out a small box decorated with a fancy gold ribbon bow from inside. Then, taking a step forward, you handed it to Fernando — Happy birthday.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he picked up the box and examined it from the outside, the gold Richard Mille logo catching his attention. Giving his son a smile, the pilot undid the bow and opened the box, his eyes widening when he saw what was there.

— That…

— It's a new watch! — Leon exclaimed — Mamá and I made it for you!

Fernando looked at the gift with surprise, seeming not to believe what he had in his hands.

— You made this? — he asked, as he took the accessory out of the box to look at it.

— Yes! — the son responded immediately — Tell him, mamá!

— Richard said that you talked about samurai culture and that you were thinking about creating a model inspired by that a few years ago — you explained — At the end of last year, he called me to continue the project and this is the first functional prototype, what we call 000.

— I chose the colors! — Leon added, making you smile.

After a few seconds contemplating the details of the watch, Fernando hugged Leon and kissed the boy on the cheek again, murmuring something in Spanish to him. Then it was your turn to get a tight hug from him.

— Thank you for that.

— You know it's the least we can do for you, considering everything you've already done for us.

— It was my obligation, Y/N…

— And this is my way — you stopped, while Leon leaned against one of his father's legs, carefully observing the conversation between the two of you — Our way of showing how much we appreciate you for this.

The driver's smile was wide, framed by the same dimples that Leon had in his cheeks and that, seven years ago, had made your heart beat faster. However, you didn't have time to savor the feeling that took over your chest before he said that he needed to get ready for the meeting with the engineers before qualifying for the Sprint race.

With a new hug from Leon and a promise that you would see each other later, you left Fernando's room and went to the area reserved for team guests, where Melina welcomed the two of you with a wide smile. After suggesting the boy a plate of waffles and promising you that there would be no chocolate sauce like the day before, you stayed there, observing the hospitality and paddock movement, waiting for the time of the activities on the track.

Unfortunately, it had not been Fernando's day. After a difficult and rain-delayed qualifying, the Sprint was even more frustrating. Sitting in front of the television, you shook your foot insistently while Leon was standing, biting his nails even after you told him not to.

Then, exactly what you had been afraid of played out in front of you.

— Alonso! Fernando Alonso! — the narrator exclaimed, making your son's eyes widen — Off the track, on the gravel and outside the Sprint, bringing the Safety Car back to the track here in Spa-Francorchamps.

Repeating the image brought you a bit of relief, as the driver had not, in fact, hit the barrier, but had simply spinned onto the wet track and headed towards the escape zone. However, this didn't make Leon calmer, on the contrary.

— Mamá — he asked softly — Is papá okay?

Looking back at the screen in front of you, the image of Fernando walking alongside the marshalls made you give Leon a smile.

— Yes, he's fine, my love.

— Will he be able to have dinner with us today? — he asked, his voice full of hope.

— Yes, I'm sure. Now, let's continue watching the race and then go down to get a snack, what do you think?

With a vigorous nod, Leon sat down next to you, eyes focused on the action unfolding on the track. He celebrated the fight between Sergio Perez and Lewis Hamilton, as well as the overtaking of Carlos Sainz, saying he was good “like papá”. After the checkered flag and the podium ceremony, you invited your son to come with you downstairs.

Upon arriving at the common room of the hospitality, which was slightly empty, you were talking to one of the employees when you felt Leon pull your hand, trying to get your attention.

— Mamá, look over there — he said softly, pointing to one of the screens. In it, Fernando was in front of the microphone, a serious expression on his face. Giving him a small smile, you turned your attention to the employee, who had questioned you about Leon's juice.

After confirming the order and having your pass scanned, you looked again at your son, who was still staring at the television with a serious expression, as if he was paying attention to what Fernando was saying in Spanish. However, you only discovered what had happened later, when you were back at the hotel.

— Now, you go to the shower and I'll sort your clothes so we can go to dinner with your papá — you said, as you dropped your cell phone on the bed. However, when you turned around, you noticed that Leon was hesitant, his eyes on his hands — Is there a problem?

— Mamá, is papá my real papá?

You blinked, a little shocked by that question.

— Why are you asking?

— They asked papá if he had a son on television — the boy said, his voice full of sadness — And he said no.

Guilt made your heart feel heavy in your chest. You definitely didn't expect Leon to see any of Fernando’s interviews, especially one in which he had been mentioned. Pursing your lips, you tried to reorganize your thoughts, looking for the best answer for him, one that said what he needed to know at that moment and that's all.

However, you didn't even say a word.

— Is it true, mamá?

— My love, please — you murmured, sitting on the bed with wobbly legs, your heart racing inside your chest.

— Papá isn’t my papá? — he continued asking, his brown eyes filled with something you had never seen in him before.

Anger.

— Leon, you don’t know what you’re talking about…

— I do! — the boy exclaimed — I saw papá saying that he didn't have any children, that that was nonsense. He doesn't have a son, I'm not his son!

— Can you hear me, Leon? — your voice rising.

— No! — he shouted — You lied to me! Everyone lied to me!

— It's not like that, let me explain — you tried to say, while the boy walked with heavy steps to the bathroom.

— Lies, all lies! — Leon shouted, before entering the bathroom and closing the door violently.

Something about that scene reminded you of your own adolescence. You felt like you were watching yourself argue heatedly with your parents and, in an attempt to escape that, you hid inside your room, but not before slamming the door hard, taking out all your anger on her.

However, Leon was not a teenager, but just a boy.

He was your little boy.

You didn't even notice when the first tear ran down his face, bitter and completely lost. At that moment, with Leon thinking that his life had been a real lie, you had no idea what to do. Forcibly entering the bathroom to try to explain things felt wrong, as did shouting the truth at the wood.

Then, a knock on the door made something light up in his mind.

Running to the door, you clumsily opened it, praying that it was whoever you needed that was there by your side.

— Good evening — Fernando greeted you, his smile dying when he saw your red eyes and wet cheeks — What happened, Y/N?

— It's Leon — you stammered, your eyes filling with tears.

He walked past you with heavy steps, his expression serious.

— Where is he? What happened to my son?

You looked at him sadly.

— Leon thinks you’re not his father — you just said, your voice breaking.

The driver looked shocked by that, as if he couldn't believe what you had said.

— What?

— He saw the interview after the Sprint and came to this conclusion. I don't know how or why, but he's convinced we lied to him.

Fernando passed a hand over his face, dismayed.

— I didn’t say anything much…

— It was enough for him — you replied harshly, even by your standards. However, he didn't seem to mind, going to the bathroom door and knocking gently.

— Mijo? It's papá, please open.

— No! — Leon shouted.

— Please, my love, let papá explain to you…

— I don't want to hear you!

He let out a heavy sigh, resting his forehead against the wood.

His son didn't want to talk to him, or anyone.

Asking you to inform him of any developments, you watched Fernando exit the suite you were sharing with Leon in silence, his shoulders slumped as if he was carrying something extremely heavy on his back. Probably guilt for having said what shouldn't have been said, even though the intention was the best possible.

The silence after the bedroom door closed seemed to last for ages. Lying in bed, you stared at the ceiling in silence. The tears had already stopped flowing some time ago when you heard the bathroom handle turn and the door open, revealing Leon. Sitting down on the mattress, you saw that the boy's eyes were red and his nose was still running, which indicated that he had been crying.

Silently, he sat near your legs, head down.

— Leon — you murmured, hesitantly.

— I want to leave — the boy said, his voice surprisingly firm.

— But, we have the race tomorrow, papá said...

— I don't want to watch the race anymore — Leon interrupted you, looking at you — I want to go home, mamá.

The news that his son wanted to leave Spa as soon as possible, without even watching the race, hit Fernando like a bombshell. He even asked you to try to convince him to stay until morning, so the two of you could talk better, but Leon was impassive.

And, as the lights came on on the track, the two of you were already in the air, heading home in absolute silence.

The following months followed in the same way. As much as you and Fernando hoped that Leon would give in and talk to his father, he remained impassive. During the summer break, there were many times that the driver went to your house to see him, without any success. The answer was always the same.

— He's not my father.

The only person he still allowed himself to see was Alberto, who was trying to break the barriers imposed by the boy. However, after an afternoon of walking with him, Galle looked at you with a worried expression, a strong contrast to the smile with which he had said goodbye to his godson.

— Did something happen? Is it about Fernando?

— Yeah — he said, passing a hand over his face — I didn't say anything, just to make it clear, it was Leon who asked about Fer and...

— What he said?

— He asked how Fer was doing, with those words. I replied that he was fine, but very sad that he wasn't talking to him, that he was missing him.

— Did Leon say anything about that?

— Just that he doesn't understand the fact that he's missing him because he's nothing to Fernando, he has no reason to care about that — Alberto replied, punctuating with a heavy sigh — Look, Y/N, I really don't know if I don't It's time to sit down with him and explain this misunderstanding...

— You think I didn't try? — you returned, crossing your arms.

— I imagine there is, but maybe you call Fer and the three of you sit down and talk seriously...

— Leon doesn’t want to talk…

— He can't just ignore his own father forever, Y/N — Alberto interrupted you, gesturing with one of his hands — You'll have to come up with some idea to help him, otherwise, Fer will go crazy.

You spent the next few days with that in your head, your mind searching for the best way to show Leon that Fernando was his father and that, above all, he loved him. Among his ideas was the possibility of asking the driver's parents to intervene or simply taking him to a psychologist and letting her lead the conversation.

Until an idea came to your mind.

The easy part was convincing Fernando to do that. Of course, it wasn't simple, considering all the implications it would have on your lives, especially when it came to your privacy. However, the idea of being rejected for the rest of his life by his son made the driver give in.

The real challenge was convincing Leon to sit next to you to watch the television, which was already tuned to the channel he would appear on. The boy resisted bravely, stating that he didn't want to see Fernando and that he didn't like Formula 1 anymore. However, somehow, the image of his father on television made him stop, his eyes attentive.

— We're here with Fernando Alonso, Aston Martin driver, how are you?

— Everything's great — he replied with a smile.

— McLaren will be a challenge for you here in Abu Dhabi, right?

— Yes, totally. In the last two races, we gained more points than them, but we need a small miracle to overcome them — the driver explained — We are separated by 11 points, but we will try. Our main motivation is the constructors' championship.

— Now, with this season over, what are your plans?

— Well, the main thing is to rest, especially after so many trips. After the race, I go home to spend some time with Leon.

The mention to his son made the reporter's eyes widen.

— Leon, you mean…

— My son, yes. I did my best to avoid speculation and protect his and his mother's privacy, but it doesn't do much good right now and, if I can be honest, I was tired of not being able to tell him how amazing he is and how much I love him.

— I assume he likes speed — the man asked, still looking disconcerted.

— He loves it, understands everything and can’t wait to start driving. But he also loves drawing and plays football very well, so we'll have a lot to do during this vacation.

After he greeted the reporter one last time and left the camera, you looked at Leon, who was staring at the television in silence.

— Are you fine, my love? — you asked.

— Papá talked about me — he stammered, looking at you.

— Yes, he did, did you see?

— He said he loves me…

— Papá always loved you, Leon. From the beginning, when you were still in mamá's belly. He loves you very much and nothing will change that.

The boy smiled at you for the first time in a long time.

— Can we call him, mamá?

— Do you want to talk to papá?

— Yes, I do.

You felt tears as you searched for Fernando's contact details on your cell phone. Tapping the video call icon, the driver's image appeared almost immediately on your screen, his expression indicating the anxiety he felt.

— So, Y/N, did it work? — he asked.

Turning the phone to Leon, the boy's smile grew even wider.

— Hi, papá…

— Hi, mijo — you heard Fernando ask with a choked voice — Did you see papá on television?

— I did.

— Did you see I talked about you? — he questioned, with Leon nodding positively in response — Do you understand now that papá loves you?

A few seconds of silence followed, tension building in your shoulders.

Then, another positive wave from the boy made you smile, tears streaming down your face.

— I love you so much, mijo. You are the most precious thing I have in my life and I would never do anything if it wasn't for your happiness and your safety.

— I love you too, papá.

#fa #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso fic #nordswrites #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #fernando alonso x you #formula one x you #fernando alonso x y/n #formula one x y/n #f1 x y/n #formula 1 x y/n

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upat4amwiththemoon · 23 hours

Text

Family of two

Summary: …may become a family of three.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x daughter!reader, WandaNat

Warnings: none

Word count: 1230

a/n: might become a series/its own au, might not, it depends so I haven’t decided yet. Let me know what you think!

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Wanda hums to herself as she cooks Sokovian food. She is wearing a flowy dress, a neat one but not too fancy. There’s a smile on her face. Her two favourite people are meeting each other today.

“Y/N!” Wanda calls out, mixing the sauce in the pan. “She’ll be here in an hour, hun.”

Y/N, who is pacing around her room, frowns at the muffled words coming through the closed door of her bedroom. The dress she is wearing per Wanda’s request flows in the air as she turns around. It’s a sundress, baby pink with small forget-me-nots printed on it.

She isn’t excited for this dinner. In her thirteen-year-old mind, their family is already complete enough for the two of them. Of course she wants her mother to be happy, but they’ve been this way since she was born, and change is difficult.

Not answering, she huffs and sits down on her bed. The smell of the food is making her mood slightly better, it’s comforting to smell the Sokovian food that she grew up eating, as it’s usually reserved for special occasions nowadays.

For the remaining hour, Y/N stays in her room playing video games while she waits for the inevitable.

A knock comes from the front door of the house at six o’clock on the dot. Wanda sets down the food on the dining table, washing her hands quickly before going to open the door.

Outside the door stands Natasha Romanoff with the widest smile on her face. “Hi, babe.” She kisses her before being led inside. “I brought some gifts for Y/N, or bribes,” she shrugs, “whichever word fits better.”

Wanda giggles, “she’ll like you, don’t worry.” She takes out three plates from a cabinet, setting two of them on one side and the third one to the opposite side. “Y/N! Natasha is here.”

Letting out a breath, Y/N stands up and makes her way out of her room. She has a straight face as she stops in front of her mom and Natasha. “Hi.” Her voice is quiet and her gaze keeps moving.

“Hey.” Natasha keeps looking at Y/N, almost unnaturally much. “Here,” she hands her a bag, “gifts for you.”

“Oh.” Y/N takes it and looks inside. There’s a soft looking teddy bear, some chocolates, and a book she has wanted for a while. She’s bribing me, is her first thought, though she doesn’t say it out loud in front of Wanda.

Her mother is looking at her with her brows raised.

“Thanks.” She murmurs, setting the bag down on the couch before sitting down on her seat around the dinner table.

Wanda gives Natasha an apologetic look before the two women do the same. The atmosphere is treading towards uncomfortable as they all put food on their plates.

Clearing her throat, Natasha glances at Y/N. “So, your mom told me that you like theatre.” Her statement makes Y/N glance at Wanda before she nods. “Are you..in a theatre group? Or do you just prefer watching them?”

“I’m not in a group.”

“Y/N has a hard time meeting new people.” Wanda pipes in once she realizes Y/N is going to be giving short answers today.

“Mom!”

“It’s okay,” Natasha says quickly, not wanting the girl to feel embarrassed, “I do too. It’s stressful to meet new people.”

Y/N huffs, her gaze locked on her full plate as she moves the food around with her fork. “How long have you two been together?” She decides to change the subject. She doesn’t want the conversation to be about her.

“Nine months, honey.”

She nods, looking at her mom. “So, is it serious then?”

“Y/N.” Wanda gives her a warning look. “Yes, we are in a serious relationship. And I really love her.”

Her gaze move from Wanda to Natasha, her eyes squinted the slightest. “I really love your mom too.” Natasha says quickly, feeling just a bit threatened.

Y/N hums, going back to playing with her food. She doesn’t know what to think of the situation. Slowly, the table goes back to tense silence. Wanda taps her fingers against the table, her eyes hopping from her daughter to her girlfriend and back.

Biting her lip, she quickly blurts out, “Natasha owns a motorcycle.”

Natasha furrows her brows as she looks at Wanda, who is giving her a look to start talking. “Uhm, yeah? I have a motorcycle.” She mumbles, unsure about where Wanda was going with this.

Squinting her eyes, Y/N lifts her head to look at Wanda. “You think that motorcycles are death machines.”

“Yes..but you think they’re cool.”

“You do?” Natasha smiles when Y/N nods. “That’s great. Maybe you can test ride it someday?”

Her eyes widen in subtle excitement, though Wanda squashes it down right away. “Absolutely not!” She sends a warning look to both Y/N and Natasha.

“When she’s older, I mean.” Natasha corrects herself quickly.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she has a small smile on her face as she finally starts to eat the food in front of her. For the rest of the dinner, Wanda and Natasha keep most of the conversation going.

“What did you think about Natasha?” Wanda picks out a book from Y/N’s bookshelf before sitting next to her on the bed.

Y/N shrugs, laying her head on Wanda’s lap. “She’s okay, I guess.” There’s a small pause while Wanda looks for the page they last left on. They both enjoy those routine, Wanda reading for Y/N before she goes to bed, even though she thinks of herself a bit too old to have bedtime stories read to her. “I didn’t like it when you said it’s difficult for me to meet new people. It made me uncomfortable.” She mumbles.

Wanda sighs, setting the book down momentarily. “I know, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was just nervous and it slipped out.”

“You don’t like..talk about my personal stuff with her, do you?”

“No, of course not.” Her hand goes to Y/N’s hair, combing through it softly. “I would never tell anything personal about you without your permission, okay? It was an honest mistake.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

Wanda’s eyes are locked on Y/N’s profile, she can see the slight apprehension on her face. “Are you scared?” She whispers, her fingers moving to Y/N’s cheek, moving around with feather light touches.

“Scared of what?”

“Things changing.”

“Yeah.” Y/N swallows. She fiddles with her hands under the cover. “I’m scared you’ll love me less.”

“I could never love you less, baby.” Her hand moves Y/N’s head to a position where they can hold eye contact. “You love your friends right?And you tell them you love them.” Y/N nods.” “Does that make you love me less?”

“No.”

“Does saying I love you more make you mean those words less.”

“No.”

Wanda smiles softly, “exactly.” Her fingertips move from Y/N’s cheek to her forehead, and down her nose. “You’re still my number one priority, and always will be.”

Smiling back, Y/N nods softly, moving around so she is in the most comfortable position. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Wanda picks the book back up, and starts reading the next chapter.

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flowerandblood · 1 day

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (29)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, sexual tension, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She was awakened by the touch of his hand − his fingers combed lazily through her hair making a pleasant, hot sensation ripple through her stomach. Although she knew he always got up earlier than her, this time he stayed in bed, her body, for some reason she didn't understand, snuggled into his chest.

She felt a pinch in her heart at the thought that some part of her wanted to move away from him and another part of her just wanted him to carry on, so she decided not to open her eyes, pretending she was still asleep.

She felt him looking at her − his lips once in a while placed a soft, warm kiss on the top of her head, from which she felt a pleasant sensation in her heart.

She felt like begging him to stay in bed with her all day, to make love to her, but she knew she couldn't to this.

She didn't want him to think that what he had done, what he had hidden from her, she could forget and forgive with such ease.

"− if that's your wish, we can stay like this all day −" He whispered softly, running his fingertips over her bare neck, making her shiver.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought that he knew her so well, that he was perfectly capable of recognizing that she was awake, that she was faking it. She opened her eyes and rose without a word, his arm immediately placed around her waist, trying to stop her.

"− my love −"

"− you promised me −"

She heard him let out a quiet breath and let her go, resigned, sinking back onto the sheets, burying his face in his hands. She got out of bed and called for her maidservant, feeling that if she did not disperse her thoughts she would cry again.

They ate their morning meal in silence and although she saw that he looked at her once in a while, she did not reciprocate the gaze.

"− has he tried to touch you before? − your brother-cunt, I mean −" He added mischievously, but pressed his lips together when she threw him a tired look full of disapproval.

"− no − I've already explained it to you − the grief and humiliation took his mind away −"

"− he was always mocking you to please Aegon − Baela must be delighted with how faithful he is −" He said with amusement mixed with mockery, turning his head away.

"− apparently we are both fortunate in terms of faithful men − don't you think so, husband? −" She asked him coldly; he gave her a quick, horrified look and swallowed hard, knowing full well what she was implying.

"− I have never betrayed you − not in this way −"

"− and a woman in a brothel? −" She asked matter-of-factly, thinking with surprise that she felt nothing when she said those words. She saw that he turned pale at the mere mention and furrowed his brow.

"− I've already said it − it didn't come to anything − it was not my desire to sink between the thighs of a whore that hundreds of men already had, but Aegon wouldn't listen to me −" He muttered, clearly embarrassed and irritated that she had brought up the subject again.

"− what happened there? −"

Her uncle closed his eye and hid his face in his hand, clearly losing patience.

"− why do you want to discuss it now? −"

"− I thought you wanted to be honest with me, uncle − as I can see, nothing has changed −" She said dispassionately, rising from her seat, heading towards the door. She heard him draw in a loud breath and move restlessly in his chair.

"− I − fuck − she told me − she told me that Aegon paid her for my fulfilment − I didn't want − I didn't want to lie with her, so she just put her hand in my breeches −" He muttered, stammering. She looked over her shoulder at him − his head was dropped in shame, his jaw clenched, his lower lip quivering.

"− did you wish for this? −" She asked.

She saw that he swallowed hard, looking dully at his plate.

"− …no −" He whispered.

Something in the way he looked, in that confession made her feel a need to comfort him.

He threw her a surprised, horrified look, tense as she turned back and approached him slowly. He stared at her from below, unsure of what she was trying to do − her hand sunk into his hair, pressing his face into her stomach.

She pressed her lips together as his hands tentatively clenched on the material of her gown, his nose snuggling into her flesh as if seeking refuge.

"− I was afraid that she would have told Aegon if I − that the whole of King's Landing −" He muttered in a breaking voice, as if only now did he truly understand what had happened then.

"− shhh −" She hushed him, stroking his hair tenderly and calmly, recognising that despite her anger and grief, he deserved her to show him her understanding on the matter.

She didn't want to reject him, she just wanted him to understand his mistakes.

"− are you disgusted with me? −" He asked in a trembling voice, to which she responded with a quiet, tired sigh.

"− no − it is the woman who disgusts me − what would you think of me if I told you that when I was so young, a grown man touched me between my thighs despite my pleas? − would you have been disgusted with me? −" She asked quietly; she heard him swallow hard at the thought, his fingers digging harder into the fabric of her gown.

"− I would have killed him with my own hands − I would have brought you his head −" He hissed in a way from which, for some reason, she felt not discomfort but pride.

"− and I will bring it to you −" He began, and she blinked, looking at him surprised, not understanding what he meant. When he lifted his gaze to her, she froze, seeing something in his eye that she knew perfectly well.

"− I will bring you the head of Larys Strong − I am returning to King's Landing −"

His gaze went from intense and threatening to surprised and frightened as she let go of him immediately, turning pale as she took a few steps back, breathing heavily through her mouth.

I am returning to King's Landing.

"− you want to abandon me −" She muttered with regret and disbelief feeling her whole body was trembling − he stood up from his seat, horrified at how she reacted, shaking his head.

"− no − no, I want to make sure that no one dares to act behind my back anymore − that what happened will never happen again − I need to speak with my brother −"

She looked away, embracing herself tightly with her arms, trying not to cry, trying to maintain a semblance of indifference as the cold sweat of disappointment, fear and despair ran down her spine.

"− fly with me − this time of your own free will −"

"− no −" She declared immediately, startling him. "− this is the only place where I'm safe − the only place where I'm not afraid for my life − don't expect me to go back to my golden cage −"

He looked at her dully, with a disappointment mixed with sadness. He swallowed loudly and looked to the side, licking his lower lip with his tongue.

"− I see − so I'll do what is necessary and return here − I can't predict when that will happen −" He replied coolly in a way from which she felt her heart squeeze.

She pressed her lips together in rage as she felt involuntary warm tears one by one begin to run down her cheeks and hid her face in her hands as she finally burst into a helpless, loud sob.

He drew in the air loudly, not knowing what to do − she heard his footsteps, his strong arms embraced her, hugging her into his leather tunic. She snuggled into him, tightening her fingers on the material of it, feeling hot in her lower abdomen as his familiar, longed-for scent filled her nostrils.

"− will you betray me again? − will you stab a dagger into my heart? −" She mumbled in a quivering, breaking voice, imagining that he had given up once and for all, that he had decided that she was not worth such an agony, such an effort, such a sacrifice.

She heard him huff, sighing impatiently − he shook her body as if he wanted her to wake up.

"− what are you saying? − I'm doing all this for you − only for you −" He exhaled, uttering the last sentence while pressing his lips to her ear, his hot breath enveloping her cheek. She turned her face towards him and the tips of their noses touched − they stared at each other for a moment, his thumb running tenderly over the soft, hot skin of her face.

"− let me −"

She didn't object as his arms embraced her hips and lifted her up, as he headed to the bed with her, as he laid her gently on the sheets − he watched her face with his lips parted in desire as his trembling hands uncertainly lifted the material of her gown up, exposing her bare thighs.

She heard only the rustling of the material of his breeches before they both sighed − he took his swollen, long manhood in his hand and guided its pink, fat head to her slit, pushing against it, stretching her folds to the sides.

Though he didn't even touch her, her moist, puffy walls welcomed him easily as he slid deeper into her with a soft, slow, tender thrust of his hips.

He leaned over her, nuzzling his face into her cheek − she could feel his ragged, excited, hot breath enveloping her face.

"− I love you − I love doing this to you − I love feeling you − your warm, tight insides − your scent − gods, Rhaenys −" He breathed out, beginning to move inside her, with the gentle rocking of his hips slamming his cock into her again and again with the quiet click of their shared wetness.

She felt tears of emotion, pain, affection and fear run down from the corners of her eyes onto the pillow under her head, her fingers tightening on the material of his tunic.

"− uncle −" She mumbled helplessly like a small child − she felt his manhood pulsate hard inside her, felt his fleshy, swollen lips pressed against her cheek placing wet, hot kisses on it, his thrusts deeper, surer and faster, teasing a wonderful spot deep inside her.

"− I'm here − your husband is by your side −" He whispered, his words, his pushes, his hands stroking her cheeks and thighs so tender, so warm, that she gave herself to him completely, spreading her legs wider, letting him sink deeper into her with his low groan of pleasure.

Never had they made love so quietly, so close together, so helpless and vulnerable, never had she felt so frightened and so safe at the same time, his scent, his breath, the fact that she felt him deep inside her soothed her nerves.

"− don't leave −" She mewled, cuddling his body into hers, listening to the slickness of their naked bodies, the wonderful, tickling heat intensifying in her lower abdomen, her nipples under her gown growing hard and sensitive, her lips parted wide as his thighs slapped against her buttocks again and again.

"− I'll come back to you − I promise − I promise −" He exhaled, his lips, his tongue clinging to hers in sticky, dirty, loud kisses from which her fleshy muscles clenched around him, sucking him inside, both of them soaking wet from her moisture.

"− your seed − I want it inside me, uncle −" She mewled throwing her head back, feeling the tension inside her reach its peak, her hips responding greedily to his thrusts − he sighed loudly, surprised, rooting into her at last with all his might, pressing her body against the bed, which began to creak loudly beneath them.

"− I know − 'm close − Rhaenys − fuck-fuck-fuckkk −" He groaned, closing his eye, his hands finding hers and intertwining their fingers as his warm spend filled her womb, his lips parted in relief and pleasure. He pressed his face into the hollow of her neck not slowing down his pace, giving her what she needed until she came.

She reached her peak feeling it, clenching her fingers against his, moaning helplessly beneath him, trying to calm the convulsions of her body as his hips still rocked deep inside her for a moment longer.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −"

They lay like this in silence, holding hands, trying to calm their shaky breaths, his manhood still pulsing inside her for a while, soft and warm.

She thought that never before had she felt so secure, so fulfilled as she did now, with him, with this man.

She wasn't sure where her body ended and his began − it seemed to her that they intertwined like vines and had long since become one.

She had always known that something was missing in her without him.

A single, solitary tear ran down the side of her face at the thought that he would no longer be with her.

He felt it, felt the moisture on her cheek and lifted his gaze to her.

"− no − no, my love − shhh −" He hushed her, stroking her hot face with his thumb, wiping a wet trail off it.

He gave her a tender kiss, long and drawn out, the way she had always imagined a man would kiss the woman he loved.

She felt hot in her heart at the thought.

Her mother, on hearing that her uncle intended to return to King's Landing, was not pleased, but neither did she object when she learned her daughter intended to stay by her side. She allowed him to leave; he did not, however, receive a warm farewell and, as she understood, did not expect one at all.

She was the only person to lead him away − the sun shone high in the sky as they approached Vhagar, her gown, his cloak and their hair blowing in the wind. He turned towards her, his hand raised to her face, seeing the sadness painted on it.

"− my wife −" He said quietly and kissed her forehead, like when they were little children.

He did this whenever he wanted to reassure her, when they were alone and he was unable to find the words to give her comfort.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at that thought, that he remembered it, that, like her, he held all those memories deep inside his heart.

"Why can't I have a beautiful hair colour like you, uncle? It's not fair. Many women in the world have dark hair, but not white." She muttered, fiddling with the fabric of her gown as she sat beside him on the wide windowsill in his chamber, a book in his hand.

They spoke of House Targaryen and Old Valyria, reflecting on their trip to Essos and what they wanted to see there first.

She lifted her gaze to him and saw that he was looking at her with his eyes wide open, as if there was something about the subject she had brought up that frightened him for some reason. He grunted quietly and licked his lower lip, swallowing hard, looking away.

"Well…I understand your sadness. But that was heaven's decision." He replied calmly, turning the page, apparently wanting to close the discussion quickly.

"Aren't you disappointed that your future wife doesn't have snow-white hair?" She mumbled in a breaking voice, pressing her lips together, feeling her chubby cheeks turn red from the tears that had welled up under her eyelids.

He looked at her, shocked to hear her question, his lips parted when he saw that she was on the verge of bursting into sobs.

She was afraid she had been a disappointment to him.

"− I − well − I never considered it − I don't feel any disappointment about it − I am fond of your dark, long eyelashes − they make your eyes seem even bigger − your curls are soft to the touch −" He muttered, apparently trying to get anything out of himself and her face lit up with a wide, grateful smile. He looked at her and sighed finally, the corner of his mouth also lifting up lazily.

"− don't think about it −" He hummed, laying his hand on the back of her head and leaned in, placing a warm, soft kiss on her forehead.

All she could think about was that, that sunny summer day when his hand dropped as he stepped back and turned, walking towards Vhagar, warm tears of grief, sadness and helplessness running down her cheeks one after another.

For the next few days, she felt as she had for the eight years she had been separated from him.

She locked herself in her chamber, eating almost nothing, reading and reflecting on everything that had happened.

She shuddered when she heard a knock on her door. She wanted to say that she longed to be left alone, but she heard a familiar voice from behind them.

"May I come in?"

Baela.

She swallowed quietly and rose to sit on her bed, sighing.

"Yes."

The door opened and her stepsister stepped inside, closing it behind her, bestowing upon her a calm, warm smile. She walked over to her and sat on the bed beside her, looking down at her hands.

"Did Jace tell you what he did?" She asked uncertainly.

She wanted her brother to admit it himself, to take responsibility for his actions.

He wasn't a little child anymore.

Baela looked at her and snorted.

"Yes. He asked me to apologise to you. He said he was unable to come here to do it himself out of shame. The sight of your uncle took his mind away." She muttered disapprovingly, shaking her head and running her hand over her face. She looked at her finally, concern and compassion in her gaze.

"How do you feel?" She asked quietly, her fingers tentatively reaching out to hers. She squeezed them, wanting to let her understand that her closeness meant a lot to her even though she couldn't express it.

"Empty." She whispered.

Baela pressed her lips together at her words.

"Because he's gone?"

"Yes."

"Is he coming back?"

"That's what he said."

They were silent for a moment, looking towards the window, contemplating.

"What he did…he shocked me. He's obsessed with you."

She furrowed her brow at her words.

"My brother?" She asked uncertainly, frightened by the thought that it might have been worse than she thought.

"Your husband."

She swallowed hard, feeling her heart heat at her words for some reason − she knew her cheeks lit up with a flush of shame at the memory of what he had done in front of them.

"− forgive me − I don't know what got into all of us then − you must have been embarrassed −" She muttered, lowering her gaze. Baela giggled at her words.

"− no, just the opposite − I felt jealous − when he embraced you, when he touched you, he wasn't looking at us anymore − he was looking at you − how madly in love do you have to be with someone to do something like this? −" She asked with amusement.

For some reason her words and light-hearted approach made her feel better. Her fingers clamped tighter on hers.

"I missed you. It's only now that I realised that. You were always so good to me." She mumbled in shame, thinking of how she had never shown her as much warmth as she should have, sunk in her grief and pain.

"You've always been that way towards me too."

She shook her head.

"No. I couldn't let you into my heart. I couldn't −"

"You suffered. I know, you don't have to explain it to me. I never held it against you." She said calmly. As she extended her hand to her, Baela smiled and sighed as if relieved, laying down beside her, pressing her cheek against her breast.

"− what are you going to do with Jace? −" She asked uncertainly, stroking her shoulder, her pleasant floral oils teasing her nose. Baela laughed under her breath.

"− I'll raise him −"

They spent the evening together, conversing about everything and nothing, as if they were trying to recapture lost time. Rhaena eventually joined them, looking for her sister, finally laying down next to them.

They tried to forget, at least for a moment, what was happening around them.

It was as if she had never left Dragonstone.

After a few days, a servant interrupted her morning meal by saying that a message had arrived for her from King's Landing. She blinked, shocked, wondering what it could have been about, convinced that something bad had happened.

She nodded and dismissed the boy, ripping off the lac and unrolling the parchment as soon as he closed the door behind him.

I cannot sleep. When you are not by my side, I have nightmares. I dream that you are dying. In a sleep. In a fire. In childbirth. I think I am losing my mind. Write me immediately when you receive this message that you are alive and safe. Send it to Harrenhal, for there I set out on my mission to end the life of Larys Strong once and for all. You will have his head. Aemond

She swallowed loudly, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart, joy and disbelief, for it was the first time in her life that she was the one to receive a letter from him.

The letter he had written her before he flew to Storm's End had been an act of desperation, but now it was a confession of his free will, a desire to communicate to her what he had felt and experienced during their separation.

She was touched by it.

She immediately sat down at her desk and began to write, not wanting him to wait any longer than necessary for her reply.

I am alive, my husband, and I am in good health. Do not fret, I know I am safe here. I ask you, whatever you intend to do, not to take the life of Alys Rivers. I am owed a debt to her and her death is not my desire. Return to Dragonstone as soon as you can. Rhaenys

She rolled the parchment in her hand and summoned her servant, ordering that the message be sent to Harrenhal and that it be passed directly into her husband's hands.

The next few days passed as she waited for his reply − she feared that something had happened, that her father's brother would realise why he had come there, that he was in danger.

One morning when she got up she simply fainted, her head hitting the table − she lay like that for a long time, unconscious until one of the servants came into her chamber, wanting to help her dress.

Her mother panicked and immediately summoned the maester, ordering him to examine her. When she woke up, she heard her conversation with Daemon, and recognised their voices despite not seeing them.

"Is he absolutely sure?"

"Yes, he had no doubt. It may be a sign, Daemon. I −" Her mother paused, turning towards her, hearing that she was trying to get up.

"− no − no, my love − lie down and rest −" She said with concern, placing her hand on her shoulder, the other fixing a pillow under her head, warmth, tenderness, concern in her eyes.

"− what happened? −" She mumbled, feeling that her head ached badly. Her mother smiled at her in a way that warmed her heart.

"− you are carrying a child inside you −"

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