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pucksandpower · 9 months

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Grid Kids

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your adopted family may be chaotic but you wouldn’t change it for the world

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Jailhouse Rock

It’s an ungodly hour of the morning when your phone rings. You groan, fumbling blindly on the nightstand to silence the offender. The name glowing on the screen gives you pause: Max Verstappen.

“Seb,” you mumble, nudging your husband awake. “Max is calling. It’s 3 am.”

Sebastian grumbles something unintelligible, face squished into the pillow next to you.

“You take it,” you insist, poking him again, “I spent three hours on the phone with Lewis last night promising him that Roscoe doesn’t hate him for being left at home this weekend.”

Reluctantly, Sebastian sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swipes to answer, his groggy voice filling the silent room. “Max, do you know what time it is?”

You hear a hurried explanation from Max’s end, something about a go-kart race, a party, and a tiny misunderstanding with local law enforcement. Your husband’s face becomes more incredulous with every word.

“Wait, you’re where?”

***

Ten minutes later, you find yourselves at the police station, bleary-eyed but amused. Max is sat behind bars, a sheepish look on his face.

“I promise, it wasn’t my fault,” he insists, blue eyes pleading.

You both manage to suppress your laughter. After signing a few papers, Max is free but the smug grin on Sebastian’s face tells you that he’s not going to let him off that easy.

“So, this is our life now?” you whisper to Sebastian, wrapping your arm around his. “Running a day care for unruly F1 drivers.”

He chuckles, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

Charles Leclerc: Open the Floodgates

It’s a stormy evening when your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a text message from Charles Leclerc: Hey, can I crash at yours? My flat’s kind of … flooded.

Sebastian, reading over your shoulder, raises an eyebrow. “Flooded?”

Before you can respond, a photo arrives — Charles’ living room, a sea of murky water with floating furniture: Okay, maybe more than just kind of.

You look at each other, suppressing laughter. “Guess we’re running a bed & breakfast now too,” you comment, already texting Charles back: Come over. Bring a mop.

***

Not an hour later, there’s a knock at your door. Charles, drenched from head to toe, stands at your doorstep, carrying what appears to be a plant pot with a small, equally wet cactus.

“I saved the cactus,” he says, looking as pitiful as a drowned rat, albeit a very cute one. He offers a half-hearted shrug, “I didn’t want it to drown.”

Sebastian bursts out laughing, his contagious mirth echoing around the hall. You can’t help but join in, hugging your sides in an attempt to remain composed.

“Well, come in. We can’t have you and the cactus catching a cold.”

***

Over the next few days, you quickly adapt to the unexpected housemate situation. Charles proves to be a surprisingly tidy guest, always washing his dishes and even cooking dinner one night (although you had to discreetly order pizza after trying his special lasagna).

In the evenings, the three of you curl up on the sofa with Sebastian’s old race replays, laughing and teasing each other. And every night, before he goes to his bed in the guest room, Charles says goodnight to his cactus — the newest member of your eccentric family.

Lance Stroll: The Cat-astrophe

A week later, you get a frantic call from Lance Stroll. “Guys, I found this cat,” he says, panting heavily, “It was all alone in the alley and I couldn't just leave it there.”

The line goes silent for a moment before Lance coughs then sneezes loudly. “Uh, guys, I think I might be allergic ...”

***

When Lance arrives, the culprit — a tiny, scruffy looking kitten — is perched on his shoulder while Lance himself is a picture of misery: puffy eyes, runny nose, and all.

Between his sneezes, Lance pleads, “Can you please keep her until I figure out what to do? I can’t just abandon her.”

You glance at Sebastian, who looks at the tiny furball with a mixture of amusement and concern. He’s been a dog person all his life but how can you say no to those pleading green eyes?

And so, your home expands to accommodate another kid — this time, a four-legged one.

***

The next few days are full of chaos. The kitten — whom Lance named Speedy — turns out to be an agent of destruction, knocking over everything in her path and giving Charles’ cactus a few worrying near misses.

You try to give Lance advice on finding a new home for Speedy while dealing with cat-proofing your own. But, during the ensuing pandemonium, you can’t help but laugh.

George Russell: The Shrunken Sweater Saga

One sunny afternoon, George Russell bursts through the door, a panicked expression on his face. “Guys, something terrible happened!”

Sebastian and you exchange a concerned look, jumping up from where you were cuddled on the couch. “What is it, George?”

He holds up a shrunken cashmere sweater, once a luxurious wardrobe piece, now resembling something only a toy poodle could wear. “I accidentally put all my sweaters in the washing machine! They’ve shrunk!”

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you can’t help but chuckle. “George, you do know cashmere isn’t machine-washable, right?”

“I thought they were!” he laments, looking at his miniature sweater in disbelief.

Sebastian claps a hand on George’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll figure this out.”

***

Over the next few days, you and Sebastian embark on a quest to save George’s beloved cashmere sweaters. Armed with online tutorials and gallons of fabric softener, you attempt various rescue techniques.

Some of the sweaters regain a semblance of their former glory while others are beyond saving. You present George with a colorful assortment of shrunken clothing which he accepts with an embarrassed grin.

***

A sudden thought strikes you and you can’t help but giggle. Holding up a particularly tiny sweater, you call out to Speedy.

“Look, Speedy! It’s your size!” you exclaim as you gently dress her in the shrunken garment. It fits her perfectly, making her look like the most stylish cat on the block.

The sight of Speedy strutting around in a cashmere sweater breaks all of you into laughter. Even George can’t help but chuckle, despite his heartbreaking loss.

***

In the following days, Speedy parades around the house, flaunting her new wardrobe. George’s shrunken sweaters have found a new purpose, and despite the initial panic, everything worked out in the end.

“This is the most high-fashion cat I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian comments one day, watching Speedy strut her stuff on the living room rug. “She should be on a runway.”

George, watching his beloved sweaters being put to good use, grins. “I think they look better on her than they did on me.”

Speedy watches you with a lazy stare, now comfortably nestled in her new family’s hearts (and cashmere sweaters).

Lando Norris: Call the Milk Man

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon when the doorbell rings, jolting you out of your peaceful nap. Groggily, you stumble towards the door, pulling it open to reveal a sheepish-looking Lando Norris.

“Hi, I was just wondering,” he starts, shifting nervously from foot to foot, “Do you have some milk I could borrow? I ran out and the shops are closed.”

Suppressing a smile, you nod, motioning for him to wait while you go fetch the milk.

***

When you hand Lando the milk, he seems relieved. But then, he looks at the container quizzically. “Why is it in a glass bottle? Don’t you use cartons?”

Your laughter fills the hallway as you explain your household’s eco-friendly policy. Lando listens attentively, his previous discomfort replaced with genuine curiosity. You can tell he’s taking mental notes.

***

Over the next few weeks, Lando pops by more frequently. Sometimes he borrows more milk, other times he just wants to chat about sustainability, an interest sparked during his first milk visit.

One day, he arrives at your doorstep with a broad grin and a glass bottle in hand. “Look, I’ve switched to glass milk bottles too!”

Sebastian will be proud.

Mick Schumacher: Comfort in Company

One evening, you find Mick Schumacher sitting alone in your backyard, gazing at the stars. His usually cheerful face is thoughtful, his eyes a little glossy.

“Mick, everything alright?” you ask, settling down next to him on the grass.

He looks at you then at the stars again. “I just ... I miss my dad, you know?”

The silence hangs in the air, thick with emotions. You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay to miss him. You don’t have to hide it. Especially not here with us.”

He nods, wiping his eyes. “I know. It’s just some days it hits harder than others.”

You stay with him, listening as he talks about his dad, his memories both sweet and poignant. You realize that while you’ve adopted your grid kids into your chaotic family, they each come with their own sets of joys and sorrows.

***

Sebastian joins you two after a while and the three of you sit under the stars, sharing stories and remembrances. Mick smiles as Sebastian tells him stories about racing with Michael, the camaraderie they shared, and the respect they had for each other.

By the end of the night, Mick seems lighter, the earlier sadness replaced with a soft smile of remembrance. He thanks both of you for listening and understanding. “You guys really are like a second family to me.”

The Big Announcement

One sunny afternoon, you gather all your grid kids in the living room. The chatter is lively, the room buzzing with energy as they try to figure out why they’ve been summoned.

Sebastian gives your hand a reassuring squeeze as you both stand in front of your unconventional family.

“We’ve called you all here because we have some news,” you begin, heart pounding in your chest.

***

When you finally tell them you're pregnant, the room falls into a stunned silence, their wide-eyed expressions making you chuckle. But then, as the news sinks in, the silence is broken by whoops of joy and congratulations.

“Wow, so we’re going to be big brothers?” Max exclaims, while Lando jokes about teaching the baby to prank Sebastian, Mick looks almost teary-eyed with happiness, and George immediately volunteers for babysitting duties.

***

With your pregnancy announcement, your grid kids go into overdrive. They begin to dote on you in a way that’s both touching and a little overwhelming. From Charles insisting on cooking you healthy meals (despite his previous lasagna disaster) to Max bringing you comfortable pregnancy pillows, everyone tries to make you as comfortable as possible.

Lance even makes Speedy wear a bell around her neck in case she inadvertently startles you. The cat isn’t pleased but the sight of her jingling around the house keeps everyone entertained.

***

As the weeks go by, their concern borders on overprotectiveness. They fuss over you at the smallest things, like Max insisting on driving you to your doctor’s appointments because he’s “the fastest driver” or Lando continually adjusting the house temperature to ensure you’re never too hot or cold.

While their actions are well-intended, they often become hilariously excessive. One day, you find Mick baby-proofing the house even though the baby isn’t due for months. He sheepishly shrugs, “Just trying to be prepared.”

***

Despite the chaos, their actions stem from love and concern, which warms your heart. One evening, you find yourself surrounded by your grid kids as you sit in the living room, their laughter filling the air.

As you watch them, your hand gently resting on your growing belly, you can’t help but feel grateful. These young drivers, your grid kids, have become such a vital part of your life. Their genuine care and, at times, overzealous concern during your pregnancy only emphasize the strong bond you share.

Your family may not be traditional and your daily life may be filled with mayhem but it’s your life with Sebastian and the grid kids. It’s chaotic, hilarious, and unpredictable — and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

The Big Day

The day finally arrives when you’re rushed to the hospital. Sebastian is by your side, holding your hand through every contraction, while your grid kids anxiously wait in the waiting room, pacing and biting their nails.

A few hours later, when your newborn daughter makes her entrance into the world, Sebastian walks out to the young drivers, his eyes sparkling with joy and exhaustion. “You can meet her now.”

The joy and anticipation in the room is palpable as they rush in, crowding around the hospital room door in their eagerness.

The sight that greets them is nothing short of heartwarming. You’re in bed, looking tired but blissful, a tiny bundle nestled in your arms.

As they take turns holding the little one, their faces light up in awe. From Max’s gentle cooing to Lando’s finger being gripped by tiny hands to Mick’s unashamed happy tears to Charles’ whispered lullaby in French and George’s soft-spoken promise to be the “coolest brother,” the room is filled with a warm sense of family.

Even Speedy, smuggled into the hospital in Lance’s jacket, gets to sniff the newest human member of the family, much to the nurses’ chagrin.

A Baby in the Paddock

Several months later, the paddock welcomes an unexpected visitor — your baby daughter, wrapped snugly in a cute onesie with a tiny racing helmet print. As you push her stroller through the crowd, your grid kids and their fellow drivers are visibly smitten by the adorable sight.

Your grid kids instantly surround your daughter, their faces lighting up as they coo and make silly faces to elicit giggles. They take turns pushing her stroller and you can’t help but chuckle at their enthusiasm in their newfound roles as big brothers.

Sebastian, ever the proud father, looks on with warm amusement as he watches your daughter bond with her extended family.

***

Amid the hustle and bustle of the paddock, your daughter experiences her first pit stop as Charles and Lando try to change her diaper. Even Mick, the baby-proofing master, hovers nearby to ensure everything goes smoothly.

You can’t help but admire their dedication and the way they’ve embraced their roles as her protectors and playmates.

***

At the end of the day, you gather the whole group for a family photo. Your daughter, held by Max and Mick on either side, steals the show with her toothless grin.

As you look at the photo later, you realize that this quirky, chaotic family has grown and changed in the most beautiful ways. Your daughter has been embraced by these young drivers, who have become her brothers and protectors, just as they’ve become sons to you.

A New Racer on the Track

Years pass in the blink of an eye and soon your little girl is no longer a baby. She’s grown into a lively child with a love for speed, much like her father. Today, she’s ready to participate in her first karting race, and the whole gang — your grid kids now with seven World Championships between them — are here to support her.

As they gather around the track, an old joke resurfaces. Max points at a particular bend in the track, nudging Charles with a smirk. “Remember the inchident?”

Charles groans, rolling his eyes, “Not this again. It was years ago!”

Laughter breaks out among the group, their bond echoing through the years.

***

Before the race, each of your grid kids offers your daughter their sage advice. From Lando’s “always keep your cool” to George’s “remember to enjoy the ride,” her brothers are keen to impart their wisdom. Mick even attempts to show her how to properly do a pit stop, using a toy car and tiny plastic cones.

Your daughter, with a sparkling helmet almost too big for her head, listens earnestly, her wide eyes moving from one brother to the next.

When the race finally starts, your grid kids cheer on loudly, their voices carrying over the vroom of the karts. The sight of your daughter, determined behind the wheel of her tiny kart, brings a surge of pride and a few tears to your eyes.

As the race ends, your daughter crosses the finish line in third place, a beaming smile on her face. She’s welcomed back to the pit by a roaring cheer from her family, her brothers lifting her onto their shoulders.

***

That night, the celebration is filled with laughter, teasing, and an impromptu re-enactment of the inchident by Charles and Max, much to your daughter’s amusement.

Sebastian lifts his glass for a toast, “To our little racer, may you always find joy on the track. And remember, an inchident is only funny if it doesn’t happen to you.”

Laughter fills the room once again, and you can’t help but marvel at the love and joy surrounding you. These are the moments you cherish the most, moments of laughter and unity shared with this extraordinary, unconventional family.

As you watch your daughter being coddled and celebrated by her brothers, you realize that this legacy of love and support will always continue, and for that, you couldn’t be happier.

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murdrdocs · 6 months

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HAUNTING YOUR BED. mike schmidt

description. you, mike, and abby bake a chocolate cake and mike gets to taste it from your lips

→ pt 2 to nothing real

includes. GN! reader (i think), simp mike, abby !!!!, fluff galore, more pining, more domesticity, kissing, one boner mention

wc: 2.2k+

a/n: finally wrote a pt 2 to something who would've thought. title from haunt//bed

When Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight.

His shift ended earlier than he originally anticipated and since he’d clocked out, his body was begging for a shower and sleep. Maybe even just sleep, depending on how comforting his bed looked. If he could tolerate it, maybe even a few bites of a frozen meal.

This is his original plan.

But somehow due to the sleep induced haze, Mike had forgotten that you were babysitting Abby tonight. Not the sitter that had taken your place for a couple of nights, completely incomparable to you to the point where Mike didn’t even waste his time. Abby, though, spent a solid ten minutes each night complaining about the temporary sitter and another five minutes longing for you.

(Mike felt the same but he would never let Abby know lest he wanted you to find out within 2 business days)

So truthfully, whenever Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight, and then as soon as he steps into his home, his vision clears up just enough to see you in the kitchen and his body introduces a burst of energy spurred on by your light squeal and suddenly he can tolerate an hour spent with you and Abby.

“Shit!” your swear shocks Abby as much as it does Mike, the word foreign to his ears from your mouth but it sounds completely natural when you say it. It’s small, a tiny detail, but it reminds Mike that he doesn’t know you. At least, not the you that exists out of the four walls of the Schmidt household.

He doesn’t know what you wear when you’re not babysitting, or what your nonprofessional personality is like. He’s sure you’re more or less the same, but for some reason, Mike wants to consider the opposite.

Despite his rampant overthinking, Abby points at the jar sitting on the end table towards the entrance of the home.

“Swear jar!” she alerts you. Or maybe it’s more of a command. Either way, you shamefully step away from the counter, wipe your hands on the apron you wear, and start to walk out of the kitchen.

Mike guesses you’re heading for your purse, which he assumes is most likely sitting on the bench in front of the window where it usually is. Your plans are halted when you’re made aware of Mike’s presence, and when you say “oh”, Mike feels like he’s living his days over again.

Just a few weeks ago, a similar circumstance, a similar feeling.

Mike touches his hair at the memory, hoping it’s long enough to warrant another cut from you, but it’s the perfect length and he drops his hand.

“Hey,” he greets you first, trying to remain calm and behave how he usually does. But suddenly he doesn’t know how to. Does he usually say ‘hey’? Or has he been saying ‘hi’ this entire time and didn’t realize it? Maybe even ‘hello’?

You seem to care less about that than Mike does, greeting him back casually and then continuing your journey to your purse. Mike watches as you dig around in it for a second, pull a dollar out, and then slide it through the created slip in the top of the mason jar.

Then, you reenter the kitchen and Mike suddenly realizes that time has been moving around him and he’s been stuck between it all, too enamored by you engaging in minute movements to do so himself.

He throws his keys in the bowl and slips his shoes off.

“What’s uh …” He steps into the kitchen, attempting to get a glimpse at what Abby is doing. She’s staring down at the counter, standing on a small step stool that makes her a lot taller than the counter instead of being a few inches off. “What’s going on in here?”

Abby turns around, and Mike gets a glimpse of a big plastic bowl in front of her, along with the carton of eggs, the jug of vegetable oil, and a cake mix box.

If he needs even more clarification, Abby happily declares: “We’re making a cake!”

Initially, Mike’s upset. His logical (grumpy, in Abby’s words) side comes out and he’s thinking about how at least two eggs that could’ve been used for breakfast has gone down the drain and cake provides no nutritional value so not only is Abby going to be hungry, she’s also going to be bouncing off the walls from the sugar intake.

His thoughts show on his face, just like they always do, and then Mike is looking over at you from where you’re grabbing the whisk out of the drawer and your head lifts. “I dropped the shells into the bowl,” you add, initially oblivious to Mike’s inner turmoil. Your mishap explains your out of character swearing, and Mike would comment on it but instead he’s trying to make his face neutral.

But you see it, the exhaustion and slight frustration and worry.

You send him a smile that’s nothing more than one side of your lips pulling into your cheek, pronouncing the apple of it that presents a faux complimentary color to your skin tone. You look … upset? Are you upset?

Mike can’t tell and this makes him feel worse.

He decides that instead of pouting and grumbling about it, he unzips his jacket, throws it onto the kitchen table, rolls the sleeves of his thermal up, and then steps to join you two.

“Let me help.”

Mike ends up wearing a pink apron that he knows for sure does not belong to the Schmidt household. At least, it didn’t whenever he left for work.

Mike attempts to hide his surprise whenever Abby excitedly tells him that you brought the apron for him. His eyebrows lift, he looks over at you, and you’re suddenly really focused on the written instructions on the back of the cake box even though they really are incredibly simple.

“Really? She did?”

Abby hums and Mike hopes you’ll look over at him, but you don’t, instead gnawing on your bottom lip and squinting as you concentrate even harder.

“Mm. It’s cute. I like it.” And that’s when you lift your eyes, sending them over to Mike to give him a quick once over.

“It suits you,” you compliment, just before putting the box down and grabbing the cake pan.

Some time has passed. The cake has been baked, decorated (white frosting with pink, green, and yellow swirls from Abby), and eaten with slightly freezer burnt ice cream. Abby has pouted when Mike declared one giant slice was enough for her.

The shower has turned on and off, Abby has run into the living room to give you a hug and say goodnight, and now comes the part that Mike hates the most.

He’s still tired, maybe minutely more energetic from the sugary cake, but his body is still begging for a good rest. Yet, he doesn’t want you to leave.

You start to grab your things, jacket pulled back on, purse thrown over your shoulder. Just before you can slip your shoes on, Mike stands from his spot on the recliner.

“Do you want another slice?” He gestures lamely at the cake on the kitchen table. “We can’t eat this all on our own and I refuse to let Abby try.”

A small laugh from you as you shake your head. “No, it’s okay. Abby should be able to enjoy the fruits of her labor.”

“She’ll enjoy it too much until she has a cavity and I have a dentist bill.” A pause where your eyes shift over to the cake, then back to Mike.

“I really don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“If that’s what you’re worried about then you’ve got it all wrong.” Mike replies as he walks to the cabinets, pulling out two small plates and then two forks right beneath it. He slices the cake, the pieces almost proportionate but you seem to have gotten just a bit more.

Maybe it’ll take you longer to eat and Mike will be in your presence for just a bit more.

It’s silent for just a few moments before you’re talking about everything and nothing all at the same time.

Raves about the cake the three of you made turns into reminiscing about the triple chocolate cake they used to serve at Sparky’s before they underwent new management. The talk of new management turns into you ranting to Mike about the manager at your day job and Mike listens intensely, thrilled to have a new piece of information to add to the puzzle of your life. When you apologize, a little shy and maybe even embarrassed, Mike shakes it off instantly.

“Don’t apologize for speaking your mind,” he tells you. You joke about the line being poetic and Mike finds himself revealing that he used to write teenage angst poetry in his bedroom at night. When you laugh, it’s not as if you’re belittling him, it’s different. Light, airy, filled with enthusiastic shock and a little bit of wonder.

It makes him laugh, too, and for a moment he forgets that his sister is sleeping just down the hall.

You both seem to remember at the same time, laughter tapering off into small intakes of air and then fizzling off completely in the vibrant night air.

He glances at the clock on the wall.

10:47.

“It’s getting late,” Mike thinks out loud.

When he turns back to you, you look a little sadder. “I guess I should get going then, yeah?”

Shit. Mike wants the opposite. He wants you to stay over for the night. He’ll take the couch if it means you’ll take his bed. He wonders if the small space would smell like you afterwards. He pictures you sleeping in his clothes, forced to wear them instead of the jeans and sweater you wear now.

He’s thinking too far ahead.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You stand anyway, taking a final bite of your cake before you set the fork down. There’s still a tiny piece left, waiting for you, just as Mike is.

He stands too.

“No, it’s okay. You have work in the morning and I shouldn’t be on the road this late anyway.” Your jacket is zipped up, your purse is back over your shoulders.

Mike says your name, firm despite the low volume. It’s vulnerable, a plea almost. It stops you, makes you look at him with wide and wondering eyes.

It’s on him now. He’s the one who has to speak.

He takes a breath. He licks his lips.

“I would like it if you stayed. Honest.”

His admission has weight to it. The words are that of a concerned friend, but the way his hands nervously play with his jeans and the way his eyes bounce around the room with your frame as a continuous anchor says much more than the eight words could have.

Your voice just barely shakes when you speak. “Tell me I’m reading this wrong.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not.”

In the nervous energy that rakes through Mike’s body, it’s unclear to him who moves first. All he knows is one moment he’s staring into your eyes, and then the next his lips are against yours.

The kiss is soft, nothing more than the lengthened press of lips against lips. His hand cradles the side of your face, yours bunches the fabric of his thermal around his bicep. And while it might be nothing objectively, it’s so much to Mike. For him to finally feel your lips against his, rougher than he imagined but even that means something to him.

It’s euphoric.

Your lips pull back from each other, but neither of you move. So, Mike is clear this time whenever he initiates, giving you one more safe kiss before he starts moving his lips against yours. Still, it’s polite, just like you deserve.

His free hand presses into your middle back, pulling your chest into his. He tilts his head just a little for comfort. He’s holding back.

You, on the other hand, aren’t.

You pull Mike impossibly closer to you by his shirt, your other hand digging into the short hair at the back of Mike’s head. You turn the kiss into one of more desperation, parting your lips to introduce open mouthed kisses instead, slipping your tongue against his.

Mike is trying to keep his composure as he reciprocates. He’s trying to muffle his little sounds before they even come out, push them down his throat. But they climb up anyway, jumping from his mouth to yours with the access.

He can’t control himself whenever your body is pressed against his. He can’t hold back when he tastes the chocolate cake on the tip of your tongue and the mint leftover from the gum you’d been chewing earlier in the night. He presses his hips against yours, shamelessly displaying the tent that’s growing. He runs his hands along your sides and back and hips, feeling every curve he has analyzed with only his eyes from afar. You’re softer up close and it makes Mike want to feel you as you are, devoid of any clothing to cover you. He hopes he’ll get his wish soon.

You pull away and Mike has to restrain himself from following your lips.

“If I stay over,” his ears instantly perk up. “Can I wear your plaid pajama pants?”

The grin he gives you is genuine. It hurts his cheeks and heals his soul.

“Of course.”

#mschmidtsworld!#mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #celeste writes fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt fluff

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kissitbttr · 2 months

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your mafia!toji fic got me thinking so hard abt him😭😭 he’s deffo the type to just buy you sm stuff as an apology but when you don’t forgive him and sleep in a different bedroom mf will come into the room on his knees and beg for you to come to sleep 😩😩 imagine still saying no and him just flipping you onto his shoulders and carrying you to bed 🤭

oh you are absolutely correct!

“darling” toji softly calls you, letting out a tired sigh. “i said i was sorry. what am i supposed to do?”

“die” she replies nonchalantly, shoulders shrugging before grabbing a pillow and your favorite blanket off the bed,

he snickers, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “now, now that would be over dramatic don’t you think? won’t you miss me?”

he almost pisses his pants when she throws him a glare,

“okay. no jokes. got it” he put his hands up in surrender, feeling absolutely terrified at his baby being mad and speaking less than two words to him,

if anyone ever finds out that the most feared and notorious man in the city being tamed by his woman, he would never hear the end of it,

but she is scary. can you blame him?

toji looks over at the designer shoes and bags he just purchased a few hours ago, tucked neatly in the corner. untouched by her.

guess the apology gifts aren’t working,

“i didn’t know that she was coming, i haven’t even talked to her in years! never planned to anyway, you know i only got my eyes for my girl, right?”

she tries so hard not to roll her eyes,

toji had a meeting with one of the cartels at the club earlier that night. and of course, she always goes. it’s where he can always keep an eye on her and refuses to leave her at home all alone because he can’t risk that. also, because she’s his good luck charm. whenever she’s around, deals always goes well,

tonight was an exception though,

all was well until a certain person decided to crash. his old fling. one before he met his precious girlfriend. the red haired thought that it would be fun to press her fake ass tits against toji,

y/n was shocked to say at least. she didn’t say anything but her face spoke thousand words. toji could see that. throwing daggers at the bitch, corner of her lips quirk into a form of disgust.

and the worst part was? toji didn’t do anything about it! can you believe that asshole?!

something about being absolutely unprofessional if he was ever to push her off and it ticked y/n to the fucking bone so she decided to ignore him the rest of the night,

toji feels defeated when she chooses not to respond, simply just taking her stuff. he crouches lightly to look at her pretty face clearly. “baby… can you please look at me? I can’t stand seeing you mad. i’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

if it was any circumstances, sure she would melt and jump in his arms. but tonight is different. how could he?

she looks up at him and whisper “fuck. you” before turning around angrily and walk out of the door to go sleep on the guest room,

toji groans, the heel of his palms pressing against his eyes. she has always been so stubborn. too fucking stubborn. exactly why he had to get rejected seven times before she accepted his date.

what? he needed to get humbled, so she gave him that.

he contemplate for a while whether or not he should let her be or not. then he chooses the latter. it would probably be best if he let her cool off some steam for a while, he doesn’t want to do any more damage or make her feel more annoyed by his presence,

bet. not even ten minutes later, he feels like losing his mind without her here.

“fuck this shit” he mutters, getting up from the bed. rubbing his face furiously before stomping towards the other side of the room,

he walks in without knocking, ready to say what he needs to say again. yet he stops. heart clenching at the sight of his girl curled up in bed, back facing him.

“love?” he slowly walks over to her laying figure,

“go away” she speaks. now in a softer tone

“please” he begs, walking around the bed and catching a glimpse of her playing with her pink manicured hands. “sweetheart. I’m sorry” he repeats, going down to her eye level before letting his hand moves to rest on her bare thigh. he’s internally relieved when she doesn’t push him off,

he sighs when she’s not looking at him, seemingly only focused on the nails that she had gotten done a week ago.

“i should’ve pushed her off. shouldn’t let her touch me like that. hell, i shouldn’t even let her breathe near me. i know that” he realizes his mistake. “i didn’t even think about what my girl needed. i was being a horrible boyfriend”

no answer,

he sighs again, refusing to look away from her pretty eyes,

“baby—“

“i heard you the first time. leave. and close the door”

toji is taken aback. fuck. she really is mad at him.

“you don’t mean that”

“uhm, yes i do” she retorts in an obvious tone, sassily raising her eyebrow before scooting a bit further from him. she doesn’t realize this but it makes his heart break,

“princess, i swear-“

“go call that girl back to keep you company. let that fucking bitch sleep by your side” she mutters, looking at the tv instead of him,

he can’t take this anymore,

“you know what? that’s it” toji had enough, he will not be sleeping alone and neither will she. standing up on his feet, his hands reach out to circle around her ankles before tugging her body towards him causing her to yelp,

“toji! what the fuck are you doing-oh!” her voice gets cut off the moment he pulls her body up like she weighs nothing. throwing her over his shoulder. “put me down!” her fists start to hitting his back—as if they’re actually hurting him— legs swinging back and forth

“nope” he answers, keeping a firm grip around her waist before swatting her ass, locking the guest room behind him and walking back to their shared one. “you’re driving me crazy, woman—not saying that i hate it, but i’m pretty fucking beat tonight and we are going to sleep together. so stop fighting me”

she huffs, admitting defeat and letting him carry to the bed. “fuck you, toji”

he smirks at that. “oh i will, baby”

#mafia!toji #toji x reader

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wileys-russo · 3 months

Note

“i was sleeping” “yeah well now your not” leah williamson

4am wake up II l.williamson

"then there was a magician! babe you know i fucking love magicians." leah slurred as you hummed. "was he as good as the one at your birthday baby?" you questioned hearing a gasp.

"oh i forgot about him! fuck i told this guy he was the best and that was a lie!" leah groaned with a whine and you heard a bump and a mumbled apology.

"tripped over someones stupid table. who the fuck put that in the way!" leah huffed with a small hiccup on the other end of the line.

"how rude of them. hey lee? can you take a break from the rum and drink some water for me baby?" you smiled as your girlfriend let out a deep sigh.

"yeah i guess. but only for you baby girl cause you're the best and i love ya!" leah slurred, grunting as she sat down in a booth. "i love you too sweets. are you back with alex and jess again?" you questioned as leah hummed.

"can i speak with al please?" you asked as leah whined. "why! you're my girlfriend and you're not here. alex has her girlfriend with her she doesn't need mine!" leah scoffed making you chuckle, the blonde out at an event which you had to miss due to a clashing family commitment.

family just as important to leah as it was to you she'd completely understood and encouraged you go, even offering to skip the event herself but you'd never let that happen considering she was set to present.

though it was obvious you both had very different nights.

it was your grandma's 90th birthday so you'd had a couple glasses of wine and everything was nicely wrapped up by about ten in the evening, meanwhile it was now midnight and it seemed leah was just getting started at the after party.

much as she'd begged you to come and join her you were far too comfy wrapped up in bed to bother, so leah had settled for a phone call to 'wish you goodnight' which nearly a half an hour later she was still yet to actually say goodnight.

"oh shut up and give her here leah you idiot!" you heard the blondes best friend scoff and there seemed to be a tussle of sorts before the line cleared. "hi sexy. we miss you!" you heard alex greet, your girlfriend gasping in offence and sternly ordering her to never call you that ever again.

"hi scotty. can you get her a water please? if she doesn't have a couple inbetween drinks she'll wake up tomorrow an absolute nightmare to deal with." you chuckled, your girlfriends hangovers something else let alone when she was dehydrated on top of it.

"on it babe. jess isn't drinking so she'll drive her home, wouldn't dare put her in a taxi at this rate." alex chuckled as you heard leah start to sing along to something in the background. "bub we're gonna go dance. i love you!" leah snatched the phone back and blew you a kiss before the line cut off and you sighed in amusement.

you were sure alex would have fun dealing with that.

"babyy girll!" your eyes fluttered open at the sudden sound, wincing at the sharp pain which shot through your neck at the awkward position you'd fallen asleep in, phone tucked beside your head where you'd been watching tiktoks before you had.

you heard a loud thud and suddenly the room lit up as you nearly hissed, shielding your eyes as leah flicked the lights on and fell through the door frame stumbling forward and catching herself on the edge of the bed.

"leah?" you rasped out unsure if you were still dreaming or not as the blondes head popped up at the end of the bed where she'd fallen down to the floor.

"thats my name!" she slurred and pulled herself up onto the mattress with a grunt as you rubbed your eyes tiredly and pulled yourself into a sitting position. "you didn't wait up for me." your girlfriend frowned somewhat adorably.

"i was sleeping." you smiled with a shake of your head. "yeah? well now you're not!" the blonde slurred with a grin crawling toward you.

"oh jesus." you mumbled at the state of your drunken lover, unable to hold back the amused smile at her scruffy state.

"my names leah but you can call me jesus if ya want babe. but i know you prefer oh god! oh god! oh god!" your eyes widened and you lurched forward to cover her mouth now much more awake as your girlfriend started to mock your moans.

"oh i missed you." you were all but tackled back down to the bed by the taller girl, grimacing at the strong smell of alcohol on her breath as she tried to kiss you but missed as her lips instead kissed the pillow beside you.

"i missed you too lee. but time for bed i think!" you smiled, tapping your phone which glared back 3:56am. "i have a favour first." leah smiled charmingly as best as she could, pushing herself up and off of you allowing you to sit up again.

"mmm?" you hummed with a raised eyebrow, slipping out of bed and making your way round to help her get her shoes off where she was struggling with them. "make me some food? please bubba?" the blonde pouted, the term of endearment one that only left her lips when she was absolutely smashed.

"lee, darling its nearly four in the morning. sleep now and i'll make you the best breakfast in bed ever later!" you promised, pushing her hands away and helping her wiggle out of her suit pants next causing her to let out a sigh of relief.

"do you come on the menu?" the defender smirked, eyes starting to droop as you shook your head. "so i see we've had some tequila shots then yeah?" you laughed, the particular alcohol forever making the girl ridiculously horny much to her ongoing frustration that you refused to engage in anything when she was drunk.

"maybe a few. but i had some water! just for you." she pointed to you and attempted a wink which just wound up being an over dramatic blink. "did you now? how responsible you are." you teased, moving away to grab her some comfier clothes to sleep in.

"i am the responsible one in the relationship duh. i'm older and wiser!" leah sighed as you grabbed her hands and tugged her to sit up, struggling to unbutton her shirt as she smacked your hands away.

"i can do it! strip for you any day sexy." she wiggled her eyebrows and flopped back into bed, and sure enough though it took her a few minutes she managed to get the shirt off as you helped her up and into a large baggy t-shirt.

"do you want me to take your makeup off baby?" you asked softly, chuckling as her energy levels seemed to be dropping and she nodded wordlessly and laid back down as you darted into the bathroom.

"you're so pretty. my pretty girl!" leah sighed out, hands resting on your legs as you hovered over her gently wiping away her makeup with the micellar wipes. "you're very pretty too, even a drunken mess." you quickly pecked her lips as you finished and moved off of her.

ignoring the whines for you to come back you hurried into the kitchen grabbing some advil and a bottle of water for the blonde in the morning, checking the door was locked and chuckling at the wake of destruction she'd left in her path toward the bedroom.

"that's a tomorrow problem." you mumbled with a smile at the multitude of knocked over and dropped items all over the ground, only picking up your girlfriends suit jacket and draping it over a chair.

"baby!" leah yelled out with a whine as you quickly returned. "i'm right here." you promised, helping her get into bed properly and gently swatting away her hands which grabbed and poked at you demanding you give her attention.

flicking the lights back off you blinked a few times to adjust, not that you needed to with how your girlfriend was kicking off, easily able to follow her voice back to bed.

"where the fuck-oh hi bubba!" she grinned in the darkness finally feeling the bed dip as you moved in beside her, latching onto you. "cuddles please, love you." leah slurred quietly, patting your thigh affectionately as you shuffled down the bed, her head moving to rest right above your heart with a tired sigh.

"goodnight leah." you chuckled, tangling your hands in her hair and messing about with it like you knew she loved. you heard her mumble something back but had no idea what it was as you smiled pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

the only woman you'd let wake you up at four in the morning for a cuddle.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

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

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

1K notes · View notes

straykeedz · 8 months

Text

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ; 𝐬𝐜𝐛

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐳 ; 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭/𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬

𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; swearing; explicit mature content as in: oral sex & fingering (f receiving), unprotected piv sex (DON’T!!!), creampie; changbin calls reader princess during sexy time ; size kink i guess (reader is obsessed with changbin’s body, who can blame her???); thigh riding is mentioned; showering together; ♡

𝐰𝐜: 10,8k ;

🔖: @killzbabiexs ; ♡

check out my masterlist here ♡ check out the status of my wips here ♡

🗺️: 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬/𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

⚡︎

Changbin is tired.

He is tired of seeing you coming back after another unsuccessful date and sulk on your couch as if your life depends on some dude you met online. Or worse - seeing you hung up on some loser who ghosted you out of the blue. It drives him crazy. Plus, you only seem to find total jerks on that stupid app. Every time you show him a picture of a guy you’re talking to - Changbin has to fight the urge to roll his eyes at you and scoff. They’re all so… boring, and they look like total jerks - he’s convinced you deserve better.

Someone who would be by your side through thick and thin, somebody who would watch those sappy movies with you on the couch and who’d playfully make fun of your for crying when the characters finally together only to pull you close for a hug and smother you with kisses all over your pretty face. Someone like me, Changbin often thinks, but doesn’t dare to voice his thoughts - too scared to ruin things between you.

Tonight, you come home earlier than he expected you to, and he immediately knows something must have gone wrong. It is only twenty past ten, so there’s no way your date has actually gone well, considering the guy’d picked you up only two hours before.

You close the door with a loud thud, then remove your shoes without bothering to untie the laces. Changbin’s body jolts up and he quickly snaps his head in your direction at the sudden noise. He was sprawled on the couch, watching an episode of the series he’d recently started, and he was definitely not expecting you to come home so soon - otherwise he would’ve put on some decent clothes instead of lying there in just his blue sweats.

“Why are you naked?”, you frown as you remove your jeans jacket and hang it on the wall together with your purse.

Honestly - Changbin is shirtless a lot in your shared apartment, just never around you. At least, not intentionally. He’d usually go around like that whenever he is done with his workout session and right about to hop in the shower. Despite being your friend for years - Changbin still feels embarrassed to go around like that when you are in the apartment as well.

“Yah! I’m not naked!” Changbin protests, immediately turning away so that you are now facing his bare back and can’t see the way his cheeks are slowly heating up. Poor boy’s embarrassed. He immediately picks up his t-shirt and puts it back on, then turned to face you once again, hoping you won't notice how flustered he is. “Besides, why are you here so early?”

You sigh, and he immediately understands. So he sits up on the couch, pauses the tv show and pats the cushion, inviting you to sit next to him. Once you sit down, you immediately lean you head on his shoulder, and he puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you even closer.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”, he tests the waters.

You shake your head as a no. “Not really.”, you murmur. “I’m just disappointed, I guess. Thought the date was going fine.”, you let out a heavy sigh.

Changbin remains silent, not really knowing what to say that could make you feel better. He’s well aware that your hopes on that date were high, and it really crushes him to see you so disappointed and hurt over some jerk.

“Maybe it’s just me.”, you blurt out.

Changbin is confused. “What do you mean?”, he asks.

You lift your head from his shoulder and gently pull away, letting his arm fall back on the couch. “Maybe I am the problem.”, you clarify. “There must be something wrong with me.”

Changbin is now staring at you with wide eyes and his mouth agape. He must’ve misheard you, there’s no other plausible explanation. There’s no way you actually said that. And he can’t help but wonder why would you only go out with jerks who make you think you’re not good enough for them.

“Yah, stop that right now.” Changbin scolds you and you frown. “Don’t ever think you’re the problem when that jerk dropped you off without even giving you a proper explanation.”

“But-“

“No buts. You’re beautiful and you’re funny and you’re smart and I’m sure he was the problem.” Changbin insists.

“How are you so sure?”, you quirk an eyebrow at him.

Your friend looks at you through his thick glasses as if you just asked him the most stupid question ever.

“Because you’re my friend? Duh.” Changbin shrugs.

Friend. That word brings you back to reality. That’s what you are to him, his friend. Sure, he’s your friend too, but recently you’ve started seeing him as something more than a friend and roommate - you’ve fallen for him.

That’s why you’d desperately tried to date during the past few weeks - to try to get over your stupid crush, because you most definitely couldn’t risk fucking your friendship with Changbin up. He’s been a part of your life for years now, and you wouldn’t wanna lose him due to a silly crush. Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s just your stupid brain playing tricks on you and letting you believe you could actually be with him - for real.

“That’s not an explanation, tho.”, you remind him. “Maybe it is me. Maybe I’m too stiff or awkward or… I don’t know, there must be a reason why they don’t call me back.”

Truth be told - you know. You know the reason why your dates always end the same way - because you keep comparing them to him. To Changbin. But in the end - nobody compares to him.

Changbin gets closer to you, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You mentally scold yourself when you feel your stomach jump at the sudden proximity. Yeah, you should really get over your silly crush, it’s starting to become ridiculous.

For a moment, you let yourself believe he’s about to kiss you on your forehead like he always does when he’s trying to cheer you up, so you close your eyes in anticipation, like it happens in those romantic movies. What if he kissed you on the lips instead? How would his lips feel against yours?

But you don’t get to feel that, and you don’t get to feel his lips on your forehead either, because Changbin unexpectedly flicks you. Right on your forehead, making you wince in pain.

“Ow!”, you open your eyes only to find him laughing like an idiot. You glare at him, then hit him with a pillow. “What’s wrong with you? Why would you do that?”, you whine, rubbing the spot where he just flicked you.

He eventually stops laughing, but he’s still grinning. You roll your eyes at him.

“Because you have to stop overthinking things.”, he says.

As if it were simple, you want to say. If you could stop overthinking things, your life would be much easier. Changbin is probably the most laid back person you know, and he rarely worries too much about things. He rarely even opens up about his life, mostly because he doesn’t let the things than happen to him negatively affect his life or his thinking. You wish you could be like him.

“I know.”, you sigh, leaning back on the soft cushion. “I can’t help it. It’s just been so long since I’ve last had a proper date, you know? Maybe I’m just too rusty and I forgot how to flirt or something. Maybe there’s just something I do wrong.”, you point out.

Changbin looks like he has something on his mind. You know that face, where his eyes are slightly closed and he’s looking at you through his glasses while biting his cheek. Yeah, he’s definitely onto something.

“I’ll take you on a date.”

You freeze in your spot, looking at him with wide eyes. What? Are you imagining things or has he just asked you out on a date? Oh, this is not good for your get-over-your-stupid-crush plan.

“What?”, is all you manage to get out.

“I’ll take you on a date.” Changbin repeats as if the most normal thing in the world, and you can now feel your heart hammering in your chest. “If you’re that worried there’s something wrong with you, I can help you with that. We’ll go on a date and we’ll have fun and that’ll show you there’s nothing wrong with you or your flirting skills.”, he explains his evil plan.

Oh.

A little voice inside your head is telling you to decline his offer because this is dangerous territory. You’re already crushing on the guy, how is going on a date with him - even if it’s not a real one - make the situation any better? But of course Changbin doesn’t even suspect a thing, and being the sweet and caring friend he is, he just wants to genuinely help you.

What he doesn’t know, tho, is that it’ll probably only make things worse for you.

“You don’t have to do that.”, you quickly say. “You don’t have to take me out just because my love life is miserable.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” Changbin clears his throat and quickly adds “I mean, I want to help you. You know, boost your confidence and stuff.”

How are you supposed to decline his offer now? If you think about it - it’s just a date. Nothing has to happen. He’s Changbin, you’ve known him for years, what could possibly go wrong?

“Fine.”, you eventually give in.

Changbin looks at you surprised, as if he was expecting you to turn down his offer. He looks taken aback, but a smile spreads on his face nonetheless. “Okay then, I’m taking you out tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow? Isn’t that a bit too soon? You still need time to figure all of this out! Maybe it’s like ripping off a bandaid, the quicker the better. You’ll go out with your best friend Changbin like you’ve done plenty of times before - except this time it’s a date.

“Okay.”

“Good.” Changbin smiles at you. “We’re going on a date.”, he repeats, then gets up from the couch.

“Where are you going?”, you ask confused.

“To bed. Have to get up early tomorrow.” Changbin explains. “Goodnight, y/n.”, he then place the long yearned kiss on your forehead. “Sleep tight.”

⚡︎

You forget about the whole date-with-Changbin thing.

Well, it’s not like you forget about it - you just don’t take it too seriously. Changbin often jokes and stuff, so you brush his offer off as one of his jokes and just don’t think about it for the whole day. Plus, when he left earlier in the morning, he didn’t mention anything about tonight, so you just assumed he wasn’t serious about it. You don’t know whether you should feel relieved or not.

You just forget about the whole thing - that is, until you exit your room to go refill your water bottle and spot Changbin in your shared bathroom getting ready in front of the mirror. He’s wearing a white shirt, sleeves rolled up his elbows, and tight black pants. You stare a little too long, and he eventually acknowledges your presence outside the bathroom.

“Yah!”, he raises his voice, snapping his head in your direction as he takes in your figure. “You’re not ready? Aish…”

You look at him with wide eyes. You’re not ready. In fact, you’re far from ready. Your hair is messily styled into a ponytail and you’re dressed in an oversized t-shirt and some shorts.

“I- I thought you were joking.”, you stutter.

“You better start getting ready, then. We’re leaving in less than one hour.” Changbin informs you as he sprays his cologne on his wrists and neck. “And you better start thinking of this as a real date!”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him as you go back in your room and open every single drawer in your closet, desperately looking for something decent to wear, but none of your clothes seem to be appropriate. Boring, old, boring and old, too slutty, too ugly. Yeah, you really need to declutter some of your clothes and buy new ones.

You eventually opt for a pair of black pants and a white, long sleeved top. Casual is how you’d define your outfit. Not too elegant, not too shabby. When it comes to the choice of your underwear, Changbin’s words resonate in your head.

You better start thinking of this as a real date, he said.

Now, if you were to go on a real date, you’d go for matching bra and panties, hoping to end your night with something more than a goodbye kiss. But then again, you’re going out with Changbin tonight, and it’s not like he’s going to see your underwear - because deep down both of you know it’s not a real date. But since he isn’t going to see your underwear - there’s no harm in actually matching it, is there? He’s never gonna know anyways, and it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, it’s just underwear.

You return to the bathroom with your clothes in your hands, neatly folded. Changbin’s still staring at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair. You can’t help but notice how handsome he is - white shirt slightly unbuttoned, tight pants wrapped around his muscular thighs, the sight is enough to make you drool.

“I have to shower.”, you announce, clearing your throat. You only have one hour to get ready, and you still have to do your hair and makeup.

“Oh, right. Sure.” Changbin mutters, before proceeding to leave the bathroom.

As he does so, he involuntarily takes a glimpse of your underwear - which you’d put right on top of your clothes -, and he hopes you miss the way his eyes widen and his breath hitches as he feels himself getting red in the face. Without uttering another word, he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

⚡︎

Changbin is a true gentleman - you find out.

He waited for you by his car, complimented your outfit as soon as he saw you, greeted you with a kiss on the cheek even though there was no need to since you technically live together, then opened the car door for you and closed it after he made sure you were comfortably seated in his car.

So far, you can say you’re genuinely impressed. The last guy you went out with hadn’t even bothered to turn the engine of his car off and just honked a couple times to let you know he’d arrived.

“Where are you taking me, my knight?”, you joke, and Changbin rolls his eyes at you as he fastens his seatbelt.

“Yah, stop making fun of this!”, he whines. “You’re not taking this seriously!”

You can’t help but giggle at his pouting, and it only annoys Changbin even more. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more teasing, got it.”, you promise. “Now, where are you taking me?”

Changbin doesn’t answer you - he turns on the engine of his car instead. You only discover your destination when he parks his car about fifteen minutes later. Meanwhile, he let you put the music directly from your playlist - which is something he never does because, quote “My taste in music is better than yours anyways.” It must be your Passenger Princess - as Changbin called you - privilege, you guess.

For your date he brought you to eat ramyeon, and he didn’t choose a random place for that. You’re genuinely surprised he remembered. A couple of weeks ago you told him you were craving ramyeon so bad. You had asked him if he remember that specific restaurant where you’d eaten one time, claiming that they made the best spicy ramyeon there.

Of course Changbin remembered that day - it was the first time he thought of you as something more than a friend. You were supposed to go out with your friends too, but they’d all bailed on you last minute - so you and Changbin found yourselves alone in the crowded restaurant. Even though you were alone even back then - it feels different now. Right now, you’re on a date.

“You remembered!”, you look at him with your mouth agape as soon as you spot the neon sign of the restaurant.

Changbin parks the car and unfastens his seatbelt. He looks at you surprised. “Yah! Of course I remembered! Unlike you, I actually pay attention when somebody’s talking to me.”, he teases.

You roll your eyes at him and playfully push him. You’re about to open your car door, when Changbin lets out a loud “Yah!”, and you immediately halt your movements and look at him confused.

“I’m supposed to open it for you.”, he explains.

You can’t help but giggle. “Changbin, there’s no need to, I can do it myself.”

“No, no, no.”, he shakes his head dramatically. “You’re the Passenger Princess, remember?”

You can’t help but blush a little as soon as you hear those words, but it’s dark outside, so you hope he won’t notice. He swiftly gets out of the car, and opens the car door by your side in record time. For a moment, you wonder how cool would it be if you and Changbin were actually together - a couple - and went on dates on a regular basis.

Yeah, you have a feeling you could get used to the feeling.

“Take my hand.”, Changbin’s voice brings you back to reality.

Changbin is standing in front of you, handsome as ever, with the sleeves of his white shirt - your favorite - rolled up his sleeves, his hand outstretched, waiting for you to place your hand on top of his. As you do so - you feel a shiver run down your spine, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your body tenses up when he squeezes your hand in his.

Changbin seems to be skilled in the dating department. He opens the door of the restaurant for you, helps you take off your jacket and asks you what you want to eat - even though he knows well your favorite ramyeon is definitely the buldak one. He even orders a carton of milk in case it’s too spicy.

Thoughtful and caring - that’s what Changbin is, and that seems to mess with your plan of getting over him. Now that you’re getting a taste of what dating him would be like, you find yourself craving for more. You want more dates and more car rides and more Passenger Princess privileges and more and more and more.

Maybe this whole fake-real-date thing was a bad idea from the start, and you shouldn’t have listened to Changbin’s words - because there’s no way today’s date is actually going to help you. In fact, you fear it’s going to set the bar a little too high for your future dates.

“So…”, he starts, grabbing his chopsticks from the table and putting the napkin on his knees to avoid staining his pants just in case. “Tell me about you.”

You look at him dumbfounded - chopsticks in your hand as you’re about to take a mouthful of ramyeon. “What?”, you ask.

Changbin takes his time to savor and swallow his ramyeon. Then, he clarifies. “Tell me about you. What do you do for a living, what are your hobbies… Stuff like this, you know?”

You’re confused. “Changbin…”, you clear your throat that’s currently burning due to the extremely spicy sauce. “We live together. You know what I do for a living.”

He sighs. “It’s a date, y/n, I’m supposed to ask you these questions!”, he groans.

“But it’s not a real date! And you already know these things!”, you protest.

He glares at you as he brings his chopsticks back to his mouth and continues eating his ramyeon.

“Fine.”, you sigh, twisting the noodles in your plate with your chopsticks. “I’m a full-time kindergarten teacher, I work at a private school not far from Seoul.”, you start. “Hobbies, mh?”, you pause for a second. “Definitely painting. I love painting, I find it relaxing.”

Changbin smiles, pleased that you decided not to be a buzzkill and finally answer his questions.

“Kindergarten, huh?” Changbin rhetorically asks as he takes his time to refill both yours and his glasses with fresh water. “You must love kids, then.”

You nod. “I do. They’re so cute and full of surprises, you know? Every day I discover a new thing about them.”, you say with a smile on your face.

Changbin knows you love your job - of course he does. It makes him happy to hear you talk about how much you love your job and to see you happy nonetheless.

“I’m sure you’re a wonderful teacher, and I’m sure those kids love you.”, he says, a shy smile on his face. “So,” he clears his throat. “Painting! You have to let me see one of your masterpieces one day, then. Maybe I could be your muse, you could paint me.”, he smirks.

Is he… flirting?

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t call them masterpieces, but sure - I’d be happy to show you.”, you look at him through your eyelashes, kind of intrigued by the conversation you’re having. “I don’t live by myself, though, so I have to make sure my friend won’t be around, you know?”, you wink.

“Oh, you live with a friend?”, he plays along and even pretends to be surprised.

“Mh-hm”, you hum in agreement. “He’s a pain in the ass.”, you chuckle.

“Yah!” Changbin exclaims, before he realizes he’s fallen right in your trap. He clears his throat, “I mean - I’m sure he’s not that bad, is he?”

Maybe you should tease him a little, just for fun.

“He always leaves his things around the apartment. And he never does the dishes. Sometimes he even eats my food.”

“Your f-“, he clears his throat once again. “Yah, he sounds quite annoying. But I’m sure he’s funny and cute.”, he says confidently.

“Mh, not really.”, you let out a loud laugh at his shocked expression, covering your mouth with one hand. “Nah, I’m kidding, he’s a cool guy. It’s real fun living with him, I really like having him around.”, you admit, blushing a little.

You don’t notice it - but Changbin blushes too.

“Now tell me about you, Changbin.”, you tease him by asking him the same thing he’d asked you. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a chiropractic.”, he promptly says. “But I also work as a part-time personal trainer on Tuesdays and Fridays.”, he adds. “Whenever I got some free time I just workout. I usually do it at home, though.”

You know Changbin works out - of course you do. He usually does it in his own room, he just puts on some music and doesn’t exit his bedroom for at least an hour, all sweaty and ready to get rid of his sticky clothes and hop in the shower. You know he does it, but you’ve never seen him at work, and you’d be lying if you said it wouldn’t intrigue you to see him all sweaty and out of breath and -.

Seriously, what is wrong with you? You’re in the middle of a dinner date and you’re fantasizing about a man when said man is right before you. Said man is also your friend and roommate, by the way.

“I would have bet on it.”, you squeeze his arm that’s currently resting on top of your table. “There’s no way a man could be so fit and not be a personal trainer.”, you say, a bit flirty. “Maybe you could show me a couple of exercises I could do…”, you bat your eyelashes at him, flirting back. Two can play this game, right?

Changbin is shook and doesn’t know how to react. First, there’s your hand squeezing his forearm. Then, there’s you flirting with him.

“I- uh…”, he clears his throat. “Sure, I can teach you some… stuff. Not that you need to workout, anyways. You look beautiful the way you are.”, he flirts back.

“Thank you.”, you wink at him. “You’re pretty beautiful yourself.”

The rest of your dinner proceeds like this - Changbin flirting with you and you flirting back. You’re enjoying the little attention he gives you, but wonder whether you made a wise choice, agreeing to this absurd idea your Changbin came up with. However, this might be the only chance you get to have him this close and to receive this kind of attention from him, so you don’t worry about it too much. You plan on enjoying the lingering touches, the shy smiles and the flirting as much as possible, because you know that once the date is over you won’t get to experience any of that again.

“This is fun.”, you casually comment.

“What’s fun?”

“This - the date.”, you clarify.

“I’m having fun too.” Changbin chuckles as he runs one hand through his dark hair. “I told you the problem’s not you.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat - he’s so handsome. One of the hottest men you’ve ever seen, if you have to be honest. And it’s not just the looks - his physical appearance is just a bonus. He’s got the whole package also personality wise. He’s fun and kind and a true gentleman - he’s a good friend and listens to you, he’s honest when it comes to giving advice, he’s just perfect. It’s going to be so hard to go back to dating ordinary men after having had a taste of what dating Changbin would be like, you can’t help but think.

“It’s just easy with you because I’m comfortable around you.”, you honestly say.

He looks slightly taken aback by your confession. “Were you not comfortable around those guys?”, he asks. You shake your head as a no. “Oh. Then you shouldn’t go out with guys who make you uncomfortable.”

You should go out with me. For real., a voice inside Changbin’s head screams.

⚡︎

On your way back home, you scolded Changbin for paying the restaurant check, claiming that he didn’t have to, claiming that “It’s not a real date, you don’t have to pay.”. “I want to.”, he’d answered, before pulling out his credit card from his wallet. You eventually agreed to that under one condition: “Next time, dinner’s on me.”, you’d said. Only now you do realize what those four words imply: another date.

And you’ll probably never know - but that’s why Changbin was smiling like an idiot on your way back to the car and during the whole ride home.

Changbin stops his car and turns the engine off. “We’re here.”, he announces.

“Is this how you usually end a date?”, you tease him.

“No, I usually walk the girl to the door.” Changbin says, then he grins at you. “Are you finally admitting this is a real date?”, he teases back, wiggling his eyebrows.

You playfully push him and roll your eyes at him pretending to be angry when you’re really not. You’re far from angry - in fact, you’re so happy you don’t want tonight to end, but you can’t tell Changbin that. “Yah! As if…”, you scoff. “I was just thinking - since you asked me to think of this as a real date - that we better do this right.”

You do have a point, Changbin realizes.

“Right.”, he agrees. “I’ll walk you to the door then.”

Like the true gentleman he is - Changbin opens the car door for you once again, for the fourth time tonight, ignoring your protests. Sometimes you seem to forget how stubborn he is.

When he walks you to the door - you both stare at each other awkwardly. What are you supposed to do now? This is the part of a date where a couple usually shares their first kiss or voices their desire to meet again, but you and Changbin are not a couple, and this isn’t a date. Even though you liked to pretend it was all real - both of you know it wasn’t.

You can’t help but think Changbin looks handsome right now, standing in front of you with his hands in his pocket and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up his arms, showing his forearms. You feel like a creep when you think about it - but you really got a thing for Changbin’s arms. They’re so muscular and buff and thick and you just can’t stop staring at him whenever he doesn’t notice.

“Right, uhm…” Changbin hums, unsure what he’s supposed to do now.

In the end, he decides to go for the safest option, so he cups your face with his big hands and leans in. For a moment there, you think he’s going to really kiss you - place his plump lips on top of yours and give you a breathtaking kiss, so you close your eyes in anticipation. Instead, he places his soft lips on your forehead, and he lingers.

Your heart is hammering hard in your chest - even though it’s not the kiss you were secretly hoping to receive, it still feels amazing and different from all the previous times he’d kissed you on the forehead before. This time it feels more intimate, so you find the courage to wrap your arms around his buff figure, hands now resting on his broad shoulders while his hands are still cupping your face and his lips are still pressed against your skin.

It feels so intimate and so magical, and you can’t think of anything else besides - “I love you.”

You feel Changbin’s body freeze under your touch as soon as he registers your words, and you can’t believe you just said that out loud. Like, for real. You just told Changbin you love him. Changbin. Your friend and roommate Changbin. The guy you’re currently on a fake-real-date with. You just told him you love him. This could either ruin what you have forever or potentially turn into the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

So, you take a deep breath. You’re really doing this.

“I’m in love with you, Changbin.”, you clarify - you want to make sure he doesn’t misunderstand your words and think you love him just as a friend. “Have been for a while now. I didn’t want to ruin what we have - I didn’t want to risk losing you.”, your voice trembles. “But tonight - I guess this whole fake date thing messed with my head more than it should’ve. So yeah - I love you.”

It’s a shitty confession, you’re aware of that. To be honest - you weren’t even planning on confessing to Changbin, like, ever, so you’re surprised you even found the courage to try to put your thoughts into words.

He doesn’t react at first, still frozen in his spot with his hands on your face, and you mentally prepare yourself for the upcoming rejection. When you hear him inhale deeply through his nostrils and pull away from you, you squeeze your eyes shut - a scarce attempt to get ready for the words you’re sure you’re about to hear.

“Y/n.”, he says instead, voice calm, tho a bit quivery. “Yah, open your eyes.” You really don’t want to, but you do it anyways. You decided to pour your heart to him - which means that now you have to be mature about it and find in yourself the courage to face him. You open your eyes and snap your head up to meet his without uttering a single word - you’ve said too much already. “Is it true?” Changbin’s words come out in a whisper.

You just nod slowly, not breaking the eye contact, and you don’t miss the way his breath gets caught in his throat.

“You’re really in love with me? You’re not- You’re not messing with me, are you?”, he rambles and desperately tries to swallow the lump in his throat as his brain processes what’s happening.

“I’m not messing with you.”

He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours - his hair tickles your skin, and your heart starts beating faster in your chest. “Can I kiss you?”, he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

“Yes.”

You feel your legs buckle when he finally presses his lips against yours. His lips feel as heavenly as you imagined, and you can’t believe you’re finally kissing him. It’s chaste and innocent at first, but when you pull him closer, he takes it as a sign to deepen the kiss. Then you feel his tongue gently brush against your lower lip and you feel like your legs are about to give in for good. As you kiss, he moves his hands from your face to your waist, not pulling away as you practically make out on your porch.

It’s you who breaks the kiss first, resting your forehead against his as you try to regain your breath - still a bit dazed from the mind-blowing kiss. His hands are still on your waist, fingers gently squeezing you as you’re trying to find the courage to ask him the next question. “Do you… want to come in?”, you whisper on his lips.

He chuckles, “Of course I do, do you want me to sleep in the car?”

You realize he clearly didn’t understand what you were implying. You clear your throat, embarrassed - cheeks turning red. “No, I mean - do you want to come in?”, you repeat, hoping this time he’d get the message.

He does, because his breath hitches as he freezes once again. He pulls away gently and finds you staring at him with big, doe eyes. He’s looking for any signs of uncertainty in your eyes, but can’t find any - you’re sure about it, you want him. And of course he wants you, too, how could he not? He’s crazy about you, has been for years but has always been too much of a coward to confess his feelings to you.

“Are you sure?”, he asks you, and you nod vigorously, then peck his lips once more.

⚡︎

Changbin is nervous.

He’s about to sleep with you and the truth is - he’s scared. What if you don’t like it? What if he can’t make you cum? It’s a reasonable fear, isn’t it? After all, it’s your first time sleeping together - it usually takes time to figure out what your partner likes or dislikes. He’s slept with a few girls and he’s definitely experienced in the sex field - though he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. He wants to make you feel good, he wants to pleasure you - he wants to live up to your expectations.

You seem to sense his nervousness, because you break the kiss by gently pulling away from him. You’re laying on your bed and he’s between your legs - both of you still fully clothed, making out like a couple of horny teenagers. He’s propped up on his elbows, muscular chest against yours and you can feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable.”, you whisper on his lips, gently stroking away one lock of hair from his face. “We can just lie down and cuddle.”, you place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.

Now - he feels even dumber than before, because all his awkwardness led you to thinking he doesn’t want this. As if he hasn't literally dreamed of this, as if he’s not crazy about you, as if he hasn’t spent the last months trying to figure out how to find the courage to pour his heart to you.

“No!”, he almost shouts, and you giggle at his eagerness, which makes him blush slightly. “I mean - No, I want this. Very much.”, he says as he caresses your cheek with his knuckles delicately. “It’s just - I don’t want to mess it up.”, he admits.

“You won’t mess it up.”, you reassure him, pecking his plump lips.

His breath hitches in his throat once again when he feels your hands travel all the way to the hem of his shirt, until you place them underneath it - your cold fingers now touching his bare back and he hisses at the feeling.

“Sorry. Cold hands.”, you giggle.

He kisses your lips in response, then lets his own hand travel across your body until it reaches your hip, gently squeezing it through your clothes. It’s only when you move your hands to unbutton his shirt that he realizes - it’s happening. You’re about to undress each other and see each other naked and sleep together. It’s not his brain playing a trick on him, no - it’s really happening. That encourages him to slip one hand slip under the soft fabric of your top until he reaches one of your breasts, gently cupping it. You’re wearing a bra and he can’t really feel your nipples through the fabric, but it makes his dick throb in his pants nonetheless.

“Take this off?”, you whisper as you unbutton another button of his shirt, revealing part of his collarbone.

He nods quickly, retrieving his hand from underneath your top only to kneel between your thighs - desperately trying to unbutton his damn shirt as fast as possible despite his shaky hands. He eventually takes it off, letting it fly across the room without a care in the world.

You bite down on your lower lip, then you lift up your body so that you’re now sitting on the bed, and take off your top as well. Changbin hisses at the sight of you in a bra - a sight he never thought he’d be able to witness. Then, your hands reach for the button of his pants, brushing against his clothed dick in the process and his breath gets caught in his throat.

“You’re beautiful.”, he whispers, unable to tear his eyes off of you as you fidget with the zipper of his pants.

You snap your head up to meet his eyes and smile at him - cheeks flushing red at the sudden compliment. Finally, you manage to undo his pants, revealing the waistband of his underwear. “Off.”, you whisper, leaving a series of chaste kisses from his navel to the fabric of his boxers, which makes him shiver.

He gets up from the bed and so do you, unzipping your pants as well, letting them slide off your thighs, revealing your underwear to Changbin, whose eyes widen in shock as he slides his own pants off.

“I know I already said it, but - you’re beautiful.”, he repeats, placing both of his hands on your waist and pulling you closer for a kiss - his cock is now pressing on your belly, painfully hard. “So perfect.”, he moves one hand to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as he begins to leave wet kisses on your neck.

“Bin.”, you whimper when his lips reach your collarbone, gently sucking on the skin, careful not to leave any marks.

Changbin can’t help but groan and shut his eyes close as soon as he hears those words leave your mouth. It’s all real, he’s not dreaming. You’re really in his arms, he’s really kissing you - it’s not one of his dreams, it’s all real. You’re in your room, both of you in only your underwear, ready to discover each other’s bodies for the first time.

There’s always some awkwardness lingering in the air the first time you sleep with someone - whether you’ve known the other person for years or they are total strangers, whether you’re inexperienced or have done this before.

Now that Changbin is in front of you in only his underwear, all the confidence you previously had in you suddenly vanishes. What if you won’t live up to his expectations? What if it’ll be awkward? What if he doesn’t like it - doesn’t like your naked body? What if - after you sleep together - he realizes he doesn’t like you that way and wants to go back to being just friends and roommates? Will you be able to be just friends with him - pretend that nothing happened?

“Hey.”, he places two fingers under your chin and delicately lifts your head so that your eyes would meet - he sees it all in your gaze. “Now you’re the one who seems uncomfortable.”, he gives you a warm smile.

“I’m not.”, you promise. You want this, you do want to sleep with him, you’re sure of that. It’s more the repercussions of your night together that scare you, not the act per se.

“Good.” Changbin places a kiss on your lips. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”, he says, piercing eyes staring deep into yours. “I want you to be yourself when you’re with me - I want you to feel safe with me.”

You know you’re safe with him, and you feel definitely free to be yourself around him. That’s why you fell for him in the first place - he always makes you feel appreciated and understood, he’s a true angel.

“I do.”, you promptly say. “I always feel safe with you - that’s why I love you.”, you whisper. He bites your lower lip once those words leave your mouth - as if those were the words he’d been dying to hear, and you yelp in surprise, but melt into the kiss.

He squeezes your asscheek, then grinds his body against yours - your boobs now pressing against his pecs and his hard length positioned on your belly, right above your clothed core. Then, he pulls away from the kiss.

“Lie down on the bed for me.”

You gulp, staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips. It’s as if your words have suddenly awakened something inside of him - a side of him you’ve never seen, for obvious reasons. He sounds impatient, desperate to feel more - to be as close as possible to you.

You do as he asked, letting your back fall on the soft mattress as Changbin crawls on the bed an positions himself above you - his buff body hovering over yours, the palm of his hands at each side of your face as he stares into your eyes. You spread your thighs to welcome him between them once again - only this time you’re both almost fully undressed, only the thin layers of your underwear between you. He’s rock hard in the confines of his boxers just like you’re already dripping wet inside your panties - it’s mutual, you realize.

“Can I taste you, princess?” Changbin whispers as his lips leave a series of wet kisses on your neck, making you shiver as you try to hold back a shameless moan.

You want nothing more than for Changbin to eat you out - you’re sure you’ve even had a wet dream about this scenario, to be honest. You nod frantically, your hands roaming around his bare back, nails delicately scraping his skin. “Yes.”, you pant, and you feel his length twitch in response.

He leaves a trail of kisses that goes from your neck to your navel and finally, he places a chaste kiss on the thin fabric of your panties - right on your clothed clit. Your hips buckle at the sudden contact, and don’t miss the way he chuckles. When he hooks his fingers to each side of your underwear and begins to pull down, you feel the urge to instinctively close your legs - suddenly feeling too exposed -, but he halts your movements by placing one hand on your knee.

“Are you feeling shy all of a sudden, princess?” Changbin asks, finally getting rid of your panties, letting the small piece of fabric fall on the floor. “Why is that so, mh?”, he rhetorically asks as he places a soft kiss on your knee. “Would it help if I was naked too?”, he mutters against your skin, leaving another kiss - this time on your inner thigh, slightly above your knee.

“Yes.”, you whisper, but he hears you loud and clear.

He chuckles, before pulling away from your body to kneel on the mattress - pecs and abs on full display. “What my princess wants, my princess gets.”, he says as he begins to slide his underwear down his thick thighs, revealing his painfully hard cock to you in the process, letting it slap against his abdomen. You’re staring, you’re aware, but - it’s big. And thick. You wonder how it’ll feel inside of you.

He gets rid of his underwear and returns to where he previously was - between your legs, kissing your inner thigh. His kisses move closer and closer to where you need him the most, and you bite your lower lip when he kisses your groin - his hair brushing against your skin. He’s so close - a couple of inches away from your neglected core.

But he doesn’t touch you there - because he’s a fucking tease. In fact, what he does is place a kiss on your other knee. Your eyes widen in pure shock, you can’t believe he’d make you squirm like that. He starts to leave kisses on your other thigh at an excruciatingly slow pace, teeth scraping your soft skin from time to time - roughly, but not too rough as to hurt you. He’d never hurt you. After what it feels like hours, he’s back at your groin - hair tickling your skin once again.

You’re about to snap and beg him to do something, anything, when he places a delicate, chaste kiss on your pussy, earning a choked moan from you. You prop yourself on your elbows, not wanting to miss a sight like this - Changbin lying on his tummy, positioned between your legs as he licks his lips, ready to make his next move.

He licks a long stripe that goes from your slit to your clit, before attaching his lips to your sensitive nub as he sucks delicately, going slow at first. He alternates kisses, sucks and licks in a delicious combination that has you kick your head back as your breath gets heavier and heavier - heart beating fast in your chest.

“Can I?”, he pulls away from your clit with a grunt, and you’re about to ask him what, when you suddenly feel the pads of two of his fingers brushing against your slit, collecting some of the dampness between your legs.

“Please.”, is all you manage to get out - with a heavy sigh.

He inserts only one finger at first, making sure to go slow just in case. It feels weird to have another man’s finger inside of you - good weird, of course, you’re just not used to it. Your previous partners weren’t really fond of foreplay when it came to giving, and they’d rarely do that spontaneously. You’re barely accustomed to the feeling of having one of his long fingers inside of you - when you feel another one poking at your entrance, ready to slip in.

“Gonna stretch you out real good, princess.” Changbin groans against your pussy, letting the other finger slip inside of you. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

It already feels good, you want to tell him, but you’re stopped by his tongue - swirling around your clit as he slightly bends his fingers inside of you. He sucks on your clit and at the same time he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, making sure his pads would brush against your g-spot every time. Once he’s sure he’s found the perfect spot - he just knows by the way you’d kick your head back and let out a chocked moan -, he stops thrusting his fingers completely. Instead, he moves just his pads, rubbing your sweet spot as he kisses and licks and sucks your clit in the meantime. He feels you clench around him, and it’s his signal to just don’t stop - to keep going, and that’s what he intends to do.

“Changbin, I’m -“, you pant - you want to warn him you’re about to cum, but you don’t get to, because a particularly long suck on your clit, combined with the stimulation provided by his fingers, has you falling apart under his touch - releasing around his fingers with a series of whimpers as your toes curl and your hands grip on the sheets underneath you.

“You were so good, princess.” Changbin praises you as he slowly removes his fingers, careful not to overstimulate you, before placing a single, chaste kiss on your clit as a well done. “You came so hard.”

“Now it’s your turn.”, you manage to get out - still heavily panting and trying to regain your breath, but you still want more. “I want to feel you.”

Changbin lifts his body up and kneels between your parted legs, resting one hand on your knee as he brings his fingers - the one that were buried inside of you - to his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around them as he licks them clean. “Taste so good, princess, can’t wait to find out how you feel wrapped around me.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat for the millionth time tonight, but you guess it’s the effect Changbin has on you. How are you supposed to remain calm and collected when your crush is currently between your legs, naked, after eating you out as if it was his last meal?

“Do you happen to have a condom, princess?” Changbin’s voice brings you back to reality.

Your eyes widen and you realize that no, you don’t have one - another proof of your lack of action lately. “No, I don’t.”, you admit.

“I’ll go check in my room.” Changbin is about to get up from the bed, but you stop him by grabbing him by the wrist, halting his movements completely.

“It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”, you whisper, feeling your cheeks heating up as soon as you say those words. “I’m clean - if you’re clean, we can do it without one.”

Changbin looks taken aback and stares at you with wide eyes and mouth agape as his brain tries to process what you just said. You want him… to fuck you raw?

“I’m clean, but… princess, are you sure? I can go check, it’s not a problem. My room’s right across the hallway.”, he wants to make sure you’re not feeling pressured or anything - because you’re not. If you want him to put on a condom he’ll go check in his room if he has one - hell, he’ll go to the nearest store and buy some if he has to.

“I’m sure, Bin. I want to feel you.”, you whisper, and Changbin gulps hard.

“Fuck - okay, princess.”, he mutters, positioning himself between your legs once again - in the mean time, you take off your bra in a matter of seconds, revealing your bare breasts to him. He wastes no time in capturing one of your nipples in his lips, gently sucking on it as he presses his body against yours - his muscular arms resting at each side of your body, cock rock hard pressing on your belly. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

You’re ready, you’re more than ready. So you tell him - it comes out in a whisper, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He shifts his weight on one arm and wraps his own fingers around the thick base of his cock, aligning its tip to your entrance. He looks into your eyes one more time in search for any sign of uncertainty or discomfort, but he can’t find any. Eventually, he starts to push in, and you feel the tip of his thick length part your folds slowly, entirely coated in your arousal.

“Oh, God.” Changbin gasps once he’s fully settled inside of you - his cock stretching you out real good. It’s been a while since he had raw sex, so he needs to collect himself before he can finally start to thrust inside of you. “Give me a second, princess.”, he pants, face scrunched in pleasure of feeling your tight pussy wrapped around him. “You feel so good around me, you have no idea.”, he whispers on your lips. “So fucking tight."

Once he’s sure he won’t come on the spot as soon as he starts moving - he begins to roll his hips to meet yours. You wrap your arms around his buff figure, placing both of your hands on his back - gently scratching the skin with your fingernails, earning a series of deep grunts from him. He’s propped up on his elbows that are resting on each side of your face, and his face instantly falls in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin as he bites gently on your collarbone.

“You feel so good inside of me.”, you return the compliment - panting and whimpering as he moves in and out of you at a steady pace.

It feels perfect inside of you, and without the layer of the rubber you’re able to feel all of him - his velvety skin, in contrast with how hard he is right now, the way it throbs inside of you as he pushes back inside, stretching you out real good. Your hands wander all over his body, but inevitably end up wrapping around his biceps, squeezing them tight as you let out a chocked moan at the feeling of his flexed muscles.

“You like ‘em that much?” Changbin teases you, snapping his head up to meet your eyes, still thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy.

You nod frantically, feeling even more aroused by his words. “Yes, God.”, you pant. “They turn me on so much.”

“Really?” Changbin snaps his hips faster at your confession.

“Yeah.”, you whimper, kicking your head back in pleasure after a particularly hard thrust - Changbin’s hips colliding with yours. “They’re so big and… look so good on you. Look so hot.”

“Yeah?” Changbin pants as he leaves a series of wet, sloppy kisses on your neck - occasionally sucking on the soft skin. “I kinda figured that out, you’re always staring when I’m done working out.”, he chuckles.

“It’s not my fault.”, you whimper. “You look so hot in those snug shirts.”, you involuntarily clench around him when the image of Changbin post-workout pops up in your head, and he grunts when he feels your walls squeezing him.

“What else do you like?”, he mutters against your skin - eyes closed shut in pleasure as he tries his best to last as long as possible, but it’s hard - you’re just so fucking hot.

“Your thighs.”, you answer without hesitation - as if you’d been waiting for his question. “Look so fucking big and hot - makes me wanna ride them all the time.”, you’re not even paying attention to what you’re saying anymore - too lost in the moment, in Changbin’s lips on you, in his hips slamming against yours, in his cock twitching inside of you.

“Fuck - you can’t say things like that.” Changbin snaps his head up to look at you. “You’ll make me cum.”

The desperation in his voice somehow turns you on even more - the thought of him trying to hold back in order to postpone his orgasm and last longer drives you crazy. You’re pleased to find out he’s as whipped as you are - both too caught up in the moment to think straight.

“I want you to cum.”, you whisper on his lips and he hisses when he feels you clench around him - on purpose, this time, as you wrap your limbs around him.

“But I want to last some more.” Changbin practically whines as his hips start to move more frantically when he feels you clenching around him - he’s close, and it’s all because of you. He thought he could bear with how tight you feel around him, how deep he is nested inside of you - but you whispering such things in his ear?

“Don’t you want to come inside of me?”, you whisper, squeezing his biceps harder. “You don’t want to fill me up?”

Changbin’s eyes widen as soon as he hears your words. Inside of you? You want him to - oh, fuck. The thought of filling you up has crossed his mind, but he never really thought he’d get to do that. He thought you wanted him to pull out when he was about to cum, he never really expected you to let him finish inside of you. The thought is driving him crazy, and before he can stop himself - he’s already cumming, hot spurts of his seed coating the insides of your walls as he releases with a deep grunt, not even thinking about halting the movements of his hips.

“Fuck - I’m sorry, I-“, he mumbles incoherently as he continues to rock his hips until he’s sure he’s spilled until the very last drop.

“It’s okay.”, you place a soft kiss on his forehead as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, clearly embarrassed even though there’s nothing to be ashamed of. “It was hot.”

Was it?, Changbin can’t help but wonder. He honestly doesn’t think that cumming that fast can be considered hot - especially since he didn’t even get you off. Sure, he made you cum before with his mouth and fingers, but he’s a bit disappointed in himself for acting like a horny teenager around you, for ruining your first time together. At least that’s what he thinks - you don’t think he ruined it. In fact, you think the total opposite.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t make you cum.”, he mutters against your skin, sounding a bit guilty.

“It’s fine.”, you reassure him, running your hand through his hair, gently tugging at it as you rubbed his bare back with your other hand. “Besides, you did make me cum earlier.”, you remind him.

“Yeah, but not when I was inside of you.”, he whines.

You don’t care about that, you know it’s not that important. Sex is made up of different factors and situation, and it’s not always the same - even if it’s with the same person. You know that getting off doesn’t always have to be the ultimate goal and that it can still feel good even if you don’t cum, so it’s not a problem for you.

“It doesn’t matter, I still liked it.”, you place another kiss on top of his head.

“You did?”, he sounds surprised, snapping his head up to meet your eyes to see if you’re lying - you’re not.

“Mh-hm.”, you hum as you caress his hair, moving a couple of locks from his face. “Very much.”

Changbin feels a little more relaxed now, if he’s being honest with himself. He places a kiss on your lips before he shifts his body to remove himself from inside of you, kneeling between your legs. Once he pulls out, he can’t help but stare at your pussy - impatient to see his cum drip out of your hole and onto the sheets, hissing at the sight. His cum looks so good, leaking out of you - if cum can look good.

You, however, are preoccupied with another thought. Where do you go from here? You’d told Changbin you love him and then you had sex, but he hadn’t said it back. He doesn’t feel the same way, it’s clear as day. You wonder whether you’ll be able to forget about tonight and pretend nothing happened between you - you wonder whether you’ll be okay with being just roommates from now on.

“I’m gonna go wash up.”, you mumble, not looking at him, sitting up on the mattress - careful not to make a mess on the bed as you get up, retrieving a clean towel from a drawer to dry his cum.

Once you leave the room and disappear in the bathroom, Changbin feels like the biggest idiot out there. He immediately noticed something’s off with you and he still didn’t do anything about it - he still hasn’t talked to you about what you’d said, the whole you-loving-him thing. And now you’re clearly upset and confused, and it’s all his fault - he needs to fix this, he can’t bear the thought of you being sad or hurt because of him.

He quickly rushes to the bathroom as well, and knocks a couple of times on the wooden door. You don’t answer, though - you probably can’t hear him since the water’s running and you’re probably in the shower, but what he needs to tell you can’t wait, so he gently pushes the door open and covers his eyes - in case you don’t want him to see you like that, even though he’s still naked himself.

“Changbin?”, you ask - you sound a bit surprised to see him there but it’s not like you’re shocked or anything.

He’s still covering his eyes with his hand - which you find weird, considering he was literally inside of you less than ten minutes ago. He’s standing on the doorstep, not daring to come in just in case you don’t want him there.

“What are you doing standing there? Come in.”

He gasps, taken aback by your offer. Come in? As in in the shower? With you? He’s pretty confused about the whole situation, but then he hears the noise of the shower door sliding open. He removes his hand from his eyes, and his gaze falls on your naked figure, standing in the shower - back facing him. He seems hesitant to hop in the shower with you, so you speak again.

“Hurry, I’m freezing!”, you urge, and he finally takes a step forward - and then two, three, four, until he’s entering the shower, the hot water drenching his body as he slides the shower door close behind him.

Even though you kissed and had sex and he literally came inside of you - he’s still surprised about the intimacy of the act of showering together - somehow even more intimate than his dick in your pussy, if he’s being honest. This feels… domestic, the kind of thing a couple would do on a regular basis - and not two roommates, and it makes him happy, because he knows he hasn’t been seeing you as only his roommate in a while now. But you still wouldn’t turn your body to face him, so he guesses he better talk now - say what he’s been wanting to tell you for months.

“Y/n?”, he calls your name quietly.

“Mh?”

You still won’t turn around, so he wraps his muscular arms around your figure, right below your naked chest as he presses his body against yours so that your back is now touching his chest - his mouth so close to your ear it sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s nothing compared to the words he voices out next.

“I love you too.”

Your heart hammers in your chest when you hear those words - the words you’ve been dying to hear. You turn around and snap your head up to meet his eyes - brain short-circuiting as you’re trying to process his words.

“What?”, you mumble, still in his arms.

He smiles at you - red in the face, flustered. “I love you too.”, he repeats - now even the tips of his ears are turned red, he’s so cute. Yes, Changbin might be buff and muscular, but you know he’s secretly a softie - that’s why you like him so much, he’s got the whole package. “Sorry it took me so long to say it back."

His confession has tears well up in your eyes as you bury your face in his chest and wrap your arms around him, holding him tight. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head and gently caresses your back with his hands.

You stay like this for a while, under the hot stream of the water, in pure silence, embracing each other in a tight, heartfelt hug - both of you smiling and grinning like idiots. Idiots in love. Changbin’s soft hands gently brushing against your back and your head on his chest, allowing you to feel how fast his heart is beating in his chest. No words are needed, you love Changbin and he loves you too - words will probably ruin the magic of this precious moment you’re sharing together, a moment you’ve both been dreaming of.

⚡︎

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slut4thebroken · 5 months

Text

Stuck

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x stepsis!reader

Summary | You get stuck under your bed and your step brother Neil is the only one home to help get you out.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, dubious consent, stepcest?, from behind 😼, bondage technically, humiliation, but like it’s unintentional, Neil is a lil delulu and actually think she wants it…, she kind of does tho…, accidental breeding??, cockwarming i guess, minor wedgie-ing lol, dry humping, grinding, spanking, groping, he’s just a pervert lol, purposefully cheesy, not serious.

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | Yeah… honestly man idek anymore. Also if anyone says this is cringe… I’m just gonna say it’s because it’s /supposed/ to be cringe and not because I wrote it in like less than 3 hours 💀

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You cursed under your breath and pulled harder, but the fabric wouldn’t budge. All you were trying to do was just reach for something you dropped under the bed. But your sleeve got caught on something and you couldn’t get it out. The fabric wouldn’t tear, it was too tight to just slip over your head, and also you could barely see because of how dark it was under there.

When you heard him call your name from somewhere in the house, you stiffened. Not now. Please not now. Your door swung open and whatever Neil was starting to say immediately got cut off.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked, making you roll your eyes.

“I was trying to grab something but my fucking sleeve got caught and I can’t get it off.” You spat. You were quickly growing frustrated— you just wanted to get out from under there already. “See if you can reach under and help me.” You started pulling again, using your body weight for more force, but it wouldn’t even budge. “Neil!” If he fucking left-

“Calm down. Jeez.”

“Just help me already. I’ve been here for like ten minutes.”

“How am I supposed to fit under your bed?” He scoffed. To be fair, you barely fit under here. But he’s so scrawny there’s no reason that he shouldn’t be able to.

“Figure it out!” You snapped, making him huff.

“I’m going to try pulling you.” He said and you sighed.

“Fuck— fine.” His hands wrapped around your ankles and he pulled, making you wince a little. His grip on your ankles made it hurt when he pulled and your top was digging into you even more. “Stop! Okay just— try something else. That hurts.”

“What hurts?” He released your ankles and you sighed, feeling all of the pressure being released.

“Mostly my ankles.”

“Okay… Here, I’ll try this.” His hands settled on your hips, making you stiffen.

“What are you doing?” You rushed out.

“I’m helping you… Like you literally just yelled at me to do.” He said, sounding annoyed. He didn’t let you get another protest in before tightening his grip and pulling. You slid out a little, making your sleep shorts ride up your legs. He yanked again and you went out a little farther.

“I can’t… I can’t get a good grip like this.” He was all but panting from exertion. “Get up on your knees.”

“What?” You choked out.

“If you want my help then just get on your goddamn knees.” He snapped, making you huff. What if you just stayed here forever? That would be better than being in that humiliating position in front of him. But this was already humiliating enough, so what’s a little more?

You sighed and lifted yourself onto your knees with some difficulty. Once you were steady, he wrapped his arms around your lower stomach and pulled back. The top was still digging into you, but you didn’t care anymore, you just wanted to get out from under here. He yanked you again and when he let out a low groan, you stiffened. It could've been from exertion… right? When he pulled you back again, you finally felt it.

“Ew! Gross, Neil— what the hell?” You yelled trying to get out of his grip. You’d rather be stuck under the bed.

“You’re the one…” another pull, this time his hips met you halfway, “who asked for my help.” He panted, doing it again. He only did it once more before holding you still, not letting you crawl forward under the bed as his hips— his fucking hard on— stayed pressed to your ass.

“Let me go right fucking now or I swear to god,”

“You’ll what? Yell for mom and dad? Yeah that’ll be real helpful while they’re out of town.” Fuck… you forgot about that. He held you still with one arm while the other groped your ass, spreading you open so his bulge could grind against your slit. When he finally let go of your body, you tried to scramble under the bed, but he grabbed your shorts and underwear and yanked them up, hard, making you cry out. The friction and the pressure was making your clit feel like it was on fire and you whimpered as you tried to squirm out of his hold.

He pulled you back out of the bed again, then yanked up even more. Your knees were almost off the ground and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes from the pain and humiliation. With most of your ass exposed now, he groped it again, digging his nails into the soft flesh until you winced. He suddenly slapped your ass twice in quick succession and you couldn’t even flinch forward to get away from the sting. He switched his grip and did the same to your other ass cheek, letting out a low groan as you squirmed. He pushed his hips into you again, but since you were higher up now, he was grinding against your cunt instead.

“I bet you’re not even stuck.” He snickered. “Was this all just an excuse to get your step brother to fuck you?” He cooed mockingly.

“You watch too much fucking porn, Neil.” You spat. “Let me go!”

“What kind of a brother would I be if I didn’t help my sister out, hm?” He was grinding on you desperately now, practically humping you while holding you up with a wedgie, and you hated the way it made your clit throb— No. It’s just the pressure from your shorts and underwear… yeah.. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of there. We just gotta loosen you up first.” He released you and pulled back, then you heard the sound of his belt, making you scramble forward again.

“No! Neil— this isn’t funny anymore.” He worked quickly and when his cock was finally free, he grabbed your ankles and used far more force than necessary to pull you back out. He roughly yanked the clothes off your body and put you on your knees again, holding your hips with a bruising grip to keep you from moving. When his cock brushed your slit, you stiffened. “Neil— Neil, wait.” You tried to reach back with your free hand and push him away, but your fingers barely managed to brush against him.

“Shh… Just let me help you.” He said quietly, lining up with your hole. When he pushed in, your hole body tensed up and a strangled whimper escaped you as he moaned loudly. “Oh fuck… Oh my god— You’re so fucking tight and- and hot… Why is it so hot?” He whined. He kept pushing in until his hips were flush with your ass and you groaned uncomfortably at the pressure on your cervix and the sting of the stretch. “Don’t worry, sis. I’m gonna get you out of there.” He moaned, continuing to babble out senseless words through his sounds of pleasure.

He slowly dragged his hips back until only the tip was inside, then slammed back in, making you all but scream at the sudden forcefulness of the thrust. He kept that up for a while, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises, sometimes pulling you back to meet him halfway. He suddenly sped up and you choked on a moan, but quickly bit your lip. You didn’t want to do anything to encourage him.

“Neil, just— just stop, please. I promise I won’t be mad. I won’t tell anyone.” You whined and he landed a hard slap on your ass.

“You can stop playing hard to get now. It’s getting a little old.” What? How the fuck were you playing hard to get?? “I mean… c’mon. I get being coy when you were wiggling your ass in front of me, but I’m already inside you… You can drop the act now.”

“It’s not a fucking act, Neil!” He really does watch too much porn.

“God— just stop whining already. I’m giving you what you wanted.”

“I don’t fucking want this— I want you to stop!” Despite your words, the arousal pooling in your stomach was unmistakable.

“Please, just stop talking.” He whined, long and bratty. “I didn’t exactly picture my first time being spent arguing with you.”

He’s a virgin??

Or… he was a virgin?

You shouldn’t be surprised though. His thrusts were frantic and unpracticed, he wasn’t trying to actually have sex, he was just focusing on pounding something until he finally came, like he probably does when he’s alone. Based on his moans and the way his thrusts turned even more erratic, you knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

He cursed under his breath and groped your ass, keeping his other hand on your hip so you didn’t try to move away again. He slapped you a few times, not as hard as before, and let out a low moan.

“Fuck yeah…” He groaned, dragging the words out. “Can’t believe it actually moves like that.” He chuckled, spanking you again. When he grabbed you again and pulled your ass cheek to the side, he choked on a moan as his hips stuttered.

“Holy shit.” He whimpered. “Fuck— you look so good wrapped around my cock.” He was panting now, getting even closer to his orgasm. “And you’re getting it all wet— oh my god…” He whined. There’s no way that was true…… It would make sense though, based on the way that your clit was basically throbbing by now.

“You like it when your brother fucks you like this?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered, cheeks heating up when he chuckled.

“I like it too, don’t worry. The next time you get yourself ‘stuck’ I’ll help you out again.” He chuckled and you could practically see the smug look on his face. “So fucking good… tight and warm… God I just wanna live in your pussy.” He groaned. You tried not to blush at the praise, but when you did anyway, you told yourself it was out of embarrassment.

“I’m so close.” He said through a breath. “Where do you want it, huh? Should I do a back shot? Or maybe come on this fat fucking ass instead?” He spanked you three times, emphasizing each word.

“Or…” He trailed off, making your stomach churn.

“Neil… No.” You warned, making him whine.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not on birth control and I can’t get knocked up by my fucking brother.” You spat.

“Step brother.” He corrected, making you roll your eyes.

“Pull out. I’m serious.” You said lowly, getting ready to try and squirm away from him again.

“Fuck— fine. Fine. I’ll pull out.” He grumbled, clearly unhappy. You were just glad he actually listened to you.

Your top had ridden up your back a little bit, so he reached under the bed to pull it back down, but kept his grip on it, rather than holding your hips. He bucked into you wildly and you couldn’t hold in the sounds anymore, not with how rough he was being. The top was digging into you painfully in so many places because of how hard he was pulling on it.

“Your ass looks so fucking hot like this.” He groaned. His hips were smacking against you almost violently with each thrust and, no doubt, your ass was bouncing each time. “Next time I’m gonna see your tits.”

There’s not going to be a next time. You wanted to say, but you could barely get any sounds out other than moans.

“C’mon. Almost there…” He was pulling you back by your top on each thrust and you could feel your breasts moving inside the fabric embarrassingly. Wanting this humiliation to be over, you clenched down on his cock and he choked on a moan as his hips stuttered. “Fuck yes… Holy shit.” He breathed, pulling you back even harder.

“I’m coming…” He whined, getting ready to pull out, but your sleeve finally ripped and now that there was no tension, you practically flew back onto his cock, forcing a strangled whimper out of you as his cock pushed in the farthest it had so far. He let out a loud moan and even though you could feel hot come hitting your walls, you still tried to crawl away from him— maybe only a little come would lower your chances of getting knocked up, compared to if he stayed buried in you until he finished. He whined loudly and bent over you a little, wrapping his arms around you so you couldn’t move as his hips jerked, filling you up.

His movements slowed and his sounds stopped, then he was panting, hugging you close and keeping you plugged up so his come wouldn’t drip out. But you need to try and get it out right now— Gravity certainly wasn’t helping your situation either.

“Neil— Neil, let me go. I have to clean this out.” You weren’t sure how much it would do, but you figured doing something would lessen your chance of getting pregnant, rather than doing nothing.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think.” He mumbled, clearly much sleepier than he was a few seconds ago.

“I don’t care.” You hissed. He sighed and shuffled backwards, keeping your ass pinned to his hips. Once you were out from under the bed, he laid down over you, not letting you get up. “Neil!”

“Shh.. In a minute. You’re just so warm and tight… don’t wanna leave yet.” He buried his face in your shoulder, getting comfortable. “You smell good.” He took a deep breath through his nose, making you shudder.

“Okay… You’ve had your fun. Let me go.” You tried to switch tactics— clearly being mean wasn’t doing anything.

“I know I know… Just a little longer.” Was there even a point now though? You’ll have to get a morning after pill either way… so you might as well just stop fighting him.

You sighed and closed your eyes. Of course he’s the type to cuddle after sex. He could at least lay with you though… instead of literally on top of you. He let out a quiet breath and you felt his head shift, then he was reaching out to grab your arm so he could examine the sleeve.

“See? I got you out.” He said proudly, making you roll your eyes with a scoff.

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @rentaldarling @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world

#neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives

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junipers-archive · 1 year

Text

Power-Outage

Word Count: 1.2k

Includes: fluff, fluff, fluff spencer x reader when a power-outage occurs and spencer being spencer and being adorably the perfect boyfriend

Dark. It is dark and you're alone and its honestly embarrassing how quickly you pick up your phone to call your boyfriend. I mean...who's still scared of the dark? What're you 5?

It's two in the morning and you shouldn't be calling, really. You've only been dating for a few weeks, but he's Spencer, he's technically been your best friend for 4 years, 3 months, 2 days. and...about 18 hours, but who's counting? You convince yourself you just need to hear his voice, his sweet, safe, angelic-

"H-hello?"his voice breaks from that of someone just woken up at an ungodly hour by his co-dependent girlfriend who so happened to have accidentally hit the call button while she was second-guessing herself.

Maybe he'll hang up? Maybe you can convince him you butt-called him in the middle of the night tomorrow at work? Or maybe-

"Y/n baby I'm really gonna need you to respond before i drive over there." he sounds calm, not at all agitated, not at all like someone woken up at 2 in the morning, he sounds...like Spencer

"Hi..." You exhale into the mic with relief. You should say something, really say something, apologize, yes that's what you'll do "I'm sorry I shouldn't have called, god I'm so idiotic...I just-well the power just went out and its 2 in the morning and I really should get some sleep but-"

You're cut off by the jingling of keys on the other line.

"Spence you still there?"

"I'm on my way." Was that a car door?

"On your wayy..." It takes you second, or it takes your un-caffienated and sleep deprived brain a second to realize he means he's coming over to your house. Your home. Where you live.

And yes you're bestfriends with him and you've had sleepovers before but that was when you were ready. That was when you had cleaned.

"No! Spencer No! That is completely unessecary! I'm fine! I just wanted someone to talk to and I thought-"

The engine of his car starts. You can hear him trying to repress the laugh that graces your ears every time he knows something you're trying to hide from his genius mind.

"I'm already pulling out of the drive-way, forget about it. Plus I know you're afraid of dark."

Maybe he'll turn around if you just- "Spencer. I am not afraid of the dark. That is childish and obsurd and I mean im not a little kid anymore! You can just go home, go to bed and forget this ever happened"

There's a silence on the other end, besides the hum of the car, absolute silence.

Until, "Do you still have the candle I got your for Christmas?"

Of course. Of course Dr. Spencer freakin Reid wouldn't believe you. I mean he knows you better than anyone. What were you thinking?

"Yea spence. Yea I have the candle"

He hums in response and you can practically hear him grinning on the other end.

You admit defeat.

"Can you at least bring over some marshmallows? I'm all out from our last movie night." You would honestly rather have him over as soon as possible if it weren't for your hideous room and the pile of "i'll get to it" in the living room haunting your mind. This will at least buy you time.

But again he's dr. reid. "I've already got some from my stash, jumbo and small and snowmen shaped. And of course hot chocolate!"

He's perfect. He's everything and more you could've asked for.

And yet. ANd yet. At this very moment you'd like to strangle him. And not that impersonal type of cowardly strangle like really just-

"Don't be embarrassed baby. I've already seen your room at its worst. I'll be there in ten, turn on the candle and read your books for now."

You hear him knock on the door a few minutes later, as to not disturb the neighbors. Because of course, he's Spencer and would've thought about that too.

You run with the only flashlight you have to the front door, and you're greeted by a ruffled, grinning and ever-charming Spencer with his satchel stuffed with god knows what and wearing his periodic table of elements pjs.

You mirror his grin almost immediately, albeit sheepishly and look down to hide your own embarrassment...only to find him wearing the pink bunny slippers he'd stolen from your house only a few days ago.

With that all or any ego-preservation skills were out the window. He was here already...right?

You let him in, still staring down at your shoes as he leads you two straight for the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets to find the ingredients and kitchenware as if he'd lived there his whole life.

You take a seat at the kitchen's island stool, and watch him work.

This should be embarrassing. I mean it is. It is!

That is, until he hands you a steaming cup of hot chocolate with little snowman marshmallows dissolving on top and smiling like he hasn't just driven 8 miles with these ingredients to make you happy because you called him.

You called him at 2 in the morning.

And with that the unease floods back. And you're hiding your face in your hands and mumbling something incoherent.

This is when he finally speaks. "So...you wanna build a fort?"

You rub your eyes and look up at him. "i-i'm sorry?"

"We should build a fort." He's assertive in this, something at another time you would've found very hot, but at this moment it concerns you. Because to any other person what you've just done would be unacceptable.

"You...want to...build a fort?"

"I find it helps, I mean...at least when I was younger my mom and dad, they used to help me build forts when the power went out. To distract me if anything. It was kind of the only time I remember them getting along."He chuckles and looks down bashfully.

And now all you can think of is building a fort with the beautiful boy in front of you.

"Yea, yea i'd really love it if we built a fort."

And you do, you build a fort with what now you deem as you're future husband. Lighting the other candle he brought you on the counter that fills the air with your favorite scent and finding battery power camping lamps in your closet to light up the room.

He tells you stories about the kinds of forts he used to build and to the best of both your abilities you try to recreate his favorite.

By around 5:30 in the morning the sun is rising and you're both past out in the center of the monstrosity you two created while high on a sugar rush provided by the hot chocolate and one two many marshmallow snowmen consumed.

But you'll remember this for the rest of your life you think. You'll remember Spencer for the rest of your life. Because no one, no one would understand how to make you forget your biggest fear like he did.

While surrounded by darkness all you could see was him.

He was your light.

He was your light, and for as long as he'd have you, you'd be his too.

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hughes86-43 · 10 days

Text

An Hour and Half | L.Hughes

summary - what happens when your flight seat mate happens to be a super cute guy and you only have an hour and half to talk to him

warnings/note- none; i have no clue how long a plane ride is from new jersey to detroit is sooo im guessing

Masterlist

“Hi, excuse me, my seat is by the window, if you don’t care to let me through?” You ask the young guy sitting in the middle seat in your row. He was wearing a ‘drew’ hoodie with black sweatpants.

Looking up at you from his phone, he immediately gets out of his seat. “Oh gosh, sorry! Of course, go ahead.” You give him a small smile and squeeze through to get to your seat. You loved taking the window seat, however you hated the awkwardness of getting through the row.

“Thank you,” You wince. “Oh, wait! Before you sit down, I hate to ask, but can you grab my water bottle out of the black and white carry on up above? I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about it!” The guy nods and opens the compartment and finds the water bottle.

“It’s no problem, really. Is there anything else you need?” He asks as he hands the bottle over to you.

You shake your head. “No, I think I’m all set.” The guy nods once again and sits back down in his seat.

You go back to getting comfortable in your seat and reply back to your mom telling her that you made it on to the plane. While the flight attendants go over the safety precautions, you can’t help but to side eye the cute guy sitting next to you. He had roughly curled hair and some small stubble on his face. He looked a bit tired.

He must’ve noticed you side eyeing him because he removes his earbud and asks, “Did you need out? Sorry, I can’t hear anything with these,” he points to his earbud.

Immediately blushing, because there’s no way that he totally didn’t see you checking him out, you reply, “Oh, no! I’m all good! Also, doesn’t seem like anybody else is in the row so that’s good!”

The guy smiles at your nervousness. “Yeah, it makes the plane ride ten times better when nobody is at the end of the row. Although for you, you would have to ask me to move but still, one person is better than two to get through,” the guy laughs out.

“Honestly though. Last plane ride I was on, none of the people sitting in my row would move, so I had to awkwardly try to go over them. Gosh, it was so embarrassing but why not just move out of the way!” The guy laughs at that, putting his earbuds back into his case.

“Well, if you need me to move, just ask and I will. Since we’re here for a bit, guess I’ll introduce myself, my name is Luke.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake and introduce yourself. You’re not one to talk much to the person sitting next to you on the plane, but something about him honestly has you intrigued.

Shaking his hand, you say, “My name is Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Y/N, lovely name. So are you heading to Michigan as a trip or do you have family there?” He asks as he returns his hand back to his lap.

You lean against the window. “I actually have some family there, and it’s my grandmother’s 90th birthday so I’m heading back to that. I’ll stay for a bit. What about you? What has you going to Michigan?” You raise your eyebrow waiting on his answer.

“Wow, 90 years old, go her,” he smiles, “Well, long story is my team just finished for the season and I’m heading home to be with the family and spend time with friends that I need to catch up with.”

You nod. “If that’s the long story, what would the short story be?”

He laughs and tries to think, “Um, the short story would probably be going home, but the long story was better.” You laugh as you fiddle with the water bottle in your hand.

You go back to asking about his team he mentioned. “So your team? What sport do you play?”

He looks at you weirdly for a second before giving a toothy grin. “Do you live in New Jersey?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Have you heard of the New Jersey Devils?” Luke asks.

You think back to a sign you saw. “Honestly, I saw a billboard about them, and I think my co-worker is obsessed with them, but mostly no.”

He lets out another laugh, and you raise your eyebrow. “You live in New Jersey, and you barely know about the New Jersey Devils? Do you know or watch anything about hockey?”

“I mean, I seen that one movie. Gosh, what is it? Is it like called ‘sensation’ or something?” You try to think. “Oh gosh, no! It wasn’t called ‘sensation’ it was called—”

He cuts you off, “Miracle.”

You scream out, “Yes!” Then wince as you realize that was a bit loud. Lowering your voice, you continue, “Yes, the hockey movie called Miracle. My dad made me watch all the time, but that’s all I know about hockey really.” You shrug.

If Luke didn’t know better, he already knows that he wants to get to know you better. “Miracle’s a good movie. Anyway, back to my team, I actually play for the New Jersey Devils.”

You shake your head, not believing him. “No way, prove it!”

Luke grabs his phone out of his pocket and shows you a recent game day photo of him in his jersey. “See, jersey, skates, and everything. I play on the defense side.”

You take a minute, probably too long, to look at the photo. Gosh, he did look in his jersey, and his hair was a bit longer in that photo. “Okay, I believe you. So, do you like it? Sorry, if that’s a bit too much to ask, I’m just a curious person.”

“No, it’s okay. Honestly, I love it. Some days and games are a bit tougher than others, but I still love it no matter what. I actually play with one of my older brothers on the team,” Luke says, a bit proud of playing with his brother.

“That’s awesome, I couldn’t imagine playing with my brother on a team, so that’s really awesome,” you say.

“Yeah, it really is,” he beams, “Anyway, the season just ended for us last week due to getting eliminated from the playoffs.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That must suck!”

“Yeah, but we have a chance to look over the season and come back better next season. Like yeah it sucks, but I also get to go home early. It’s a win lose situation,” he shrugs.

“Still, I see how it would suck, but if you didn’t get eliminated, you wouldn’t be on this plane talking to me right now,” you smile.

“Ha, I guess you’re right,” he guides a hand through his curls. “Enough about my job, what do you do back in New Jersey?”

You wince at the mention of talking about what you do for work. Your job recently wasn’t doing it for you. You had been working at an advertising agency for a while now, but after awhile, you decided it was not for you. You wanted a new job, but you also haven’t been looking. “Eh, I work at an advertising agency. Overall, it pays the bills, but it’s not my favorite.”

Luke replies, “Did you go to school for advertising or something related?”

You shake your head, “No, I actually went for public relations, but somehow I got this job in advertising. One of my friends put in a good word for me, but I have slowly started to dread going to work.”

Luke nods, “I’m sorry that you don’t like your job.”

You shrug, looking passed him to the couple across the aisle. “Honestly, I should really get a new job if I hate it so much, but the idea of going through the process of applying and interviewing is so nerve wracking for me.”

Luke listens to see if you’re going to add anymore before talking. Truthfully, you’ve never seen a guy take the time to listen so well about your problems, let alone a stranger you just met. He speaks up again, “Although that would be nerve wracking, it would mean that you get a chance to get a new job. I say go for it, especially since you’re not loving the job you already have. You should have a job that you love to do, not a job that just pays the bills.” Honestly, Luke has no idea where all these encouraging words are coming from, but he was just letting them spill out in the chance it would help you.

“You’re right, I totally should. You’ve changed my perspective, I guess when I head back to New Jersey I’ll look at job openings related to what I want to do,” you say, smiling up at him.

You and Luke continue to talk for the next hour on the plane. Talking about various adventures you’ll both get into when you’re back in Michigan, he talks about his brothers and how they both play in the NHL, and you talk about your grandparents and how they are you’re world. Time has a sense of flying by when you’re enjoying time with someone, and surprisingly you’re enjoying and loving the time talking to Luke. Even though you both just met, you two could talk forever. You really didn’t want to get off the plane as that would mean you wouldn’t be able to talk to him much more.

An hour or so later, the moment you had been dreading since talking to him has come, time to depart the plane. You’re walking down the hallway leading out of the plane when Luke speaks up next to you. “I know it’s crazy that we just met, but honestly you’re the easiest person to talk to that I have ever met. Hopefully that made sense?”

You nod, looking into his eyes, trying to savor the last look at him. “It made sense. I think the same goes for me. You listened to what I had to say, which is surprising because most people stop listening to me after awhile,” you blush at his intense stare, actually noticing how tall he was when you stood next to him.

You both make it through the exit. Luke turns to you again and tries to say, “Since we’re both gonna be here in Michigan for a bit, we should—” but he gets cut off by someone yelling. “LUKE!”

You both turn to where the sudden yelling was from. He mumbles, a hint of red touching his cheeks, “my brother, Quinn.” You nod, moving to the side so he can hug his brother.

Quinn must notice you, because he says to Luke, “Oh, sorry for interrupting, go ahead.” He pushed Luke to go back talking to you, but when he does, he notices that you have walked off to meet with, what he assumes is, your grandparents.

He smiles as he watches you hug and kiss them both. He watches as you hold a finger, signaling them to hold on for a second, and you walk back over to him. “I’m sorry, I gotta head on out, it was so lovely to meet you and talk to you, Luke.”

He smiles, “It was great to meet you, too, Y/N. As I was trying to say before, since we’re both in Michigan for a bit, how about we try and hang out?”

You try to stay cool, but you still let out a massive grin. “Yes, absolutely! I would love to!”

“Great! Reach out to me!” He moves closer to you, before he chickens out, he pulls you into a hug. You instantly hug him back, thinking it was crazy how you just met him and now don’t want him to go. “Bye, see you soon,” he says, pulling away and walking towards his brother.

You stand there a bit in shock before yelling across to him, “Wait, but I don’t have your number!”

Luke turns around, he gives you a grin, “Check your bag! I might’ve put it in there while I was getting it down!” You blush, giving him a thumbs up before heading over to your grandparents with the biggest grin on your face.

Later on, you finally get to unpacking your bag. Upon unzipping it, a piece of paper falls out. He must’ve written it when you went to the bathroom. Written on it, it says…

“It was great meeting you, and you’re the best person ever to talk to. If you ever need someone to listen, call me… xxxxxxxx”

Needless to say, you did call him, and he listened to you all night long. Both of you were in over your heads with each other.

#luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics #nhlhockey fic #nhl imagines

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celaenaeiln · 9 months

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Jake and Mari meeting Damian for the first time

Jake: *watching Dick struggling to piggyback a 260+ lb man* Dad who is HE?!

Mari: Why're you carrying a man twice your size?!

Dick: *Wheezing but refusing to let go of his hold on Damian's legs* He's...he's my son...s-say "Hi, Damian."

Jake: I'm your son!

Mari: Jake's your son!

Dick: *gasping* Yes...but Damian's my first born."

Jake & Mari: *turning to look at Damian*

Damian: *looking back at them then turning his nose up and smirking*

Jake & Mari: *instantly activating their powers* This means war.

Dick: *jerking his head up* Wait-what?

Jake and Mari complaining to their Uncle Tim about Damian

Jake: You won't believe what he did! He hit me on the head with dad's eskrima!

Mari: He also punched me!

Tim: *snorting* Let me guess, he also stuck his tongue out at you two while Dad-DICK-wasn't looking?

Jake: Yeah! And then dad scolded all of us but when he was scolding me and Mari, Damian took dad's eskrima, put into his pocket-

Jake & Tim: *finishing together* -and mouthed "Mine."

Jake: Uncle Tim, you get it!!

Mari: *narrowing her eyes* speaking from experience?

Tim: *scowling at her*

Tim: .......hmm.

Tim and Jason forced to team up for a family mission

Tim: ...So I heard something interesting today.

Jason: Can we just shut up and work in silence so I can go home and eat and clean my guns in peace?

Tim: Jake and Mari told me they fought with Damian.

Jason: What? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! It must've been over Dick! It's the only thing that matters to that demon brat.

Tim: *smirking* yup. Remember when we fought over Dick?

Jason: Heh. I beat your ass. Good times, good times. I mean-what were we even fighting over, huh?

Tim: Liar, I totally won. And I know right? It's completely obvious-

Jason: Without a doubt-

Jason & Tim: *finishing confidently* I was Dick's favorite.

A ringing silence echoing in the batcave after that statement.

Tim: *smirk dropping* Did the pit wipe whatever brain you had managed to scrape by with? Dick obviously loved me more. He taught me how to analyze people, how to do laundry, and he even cooked for me! Me! He never cooks for anyone.

Jason: *sneering* And here I thought you were a detective but it turns out you were a "dumb-tective" instead. Has he ever gone skiing with you? Has he ever come up with a code-nickname for you like he did with "little wing" for me? Has he ever protected you from seeing seeing stuff cause he thought it wouldn't be appropriate?? Has he ever done that for you?

Tim: hE CALLS ME ALL THE TIME-HE LOVES ME MORE!!!

Jason: HE OPENS UP TO ME! IM THE ONE HE LOVES!

Tim: *screeching and lunging* I'LL BE SURE TO KNOCK YOUR BRAINS INTO PLACE!!

Jason: *grappling with him* AND I'LL MAKE SURE TO PUT YOURS BACK IN YOUR HEAD!!

*one hour later*

Jason & Tim: *Bloody, silent, and seething*

Tim: .....hey.

Jason: *gritting his teeth* what.

Tim: Did you and Bruce ever fight over who Dick loves more?

Jason: *mind exploding with memories of the two of them using sly, underhanded tricks to have Dick's attention for themself and sometimes even coming to blows over it* no. And I'm not the one who fought with a ten year old.

Tim: But you did.

Jason: You were thirteen.

Tim: No, I mean you and Damian fought.

Jason:

Tim: It's okay. I used to have a cold war with Bruce.

Jason: With Bruce? Why?

Tim: Because Bruce didn't want me but Dick did and Bruce is a possessive asshole who loves Dick but doesn't like sharing.

Jason: Damn. Yeah, that actually explains a lot. I'm still the favorite though.

Tim: *cracking his neck* You wanna go again?

Dick: *entering* Hey guys-woah, what's with the tension?

Jason: *Sidling up next to Dick and wrapping an arm around his shoulder* Nothin' Dickie. Heard your kiddies got into a fight.

Dick: *sighing* You heard already? It was a disaster. I'll tell you about it later. How're you doing, Tim? Everything okay, buddy?

Tim: *walking forward and grabbing Dick's hand* *furtively catching Jason's eye* Good Dick! I'm really glad you're back.

Dick: *immediately ruffling his hair and then Jason's* Awww! You're the sweetest. Both of you. I'm going to make sure the Bruce doesn't burn the kitchen down thinking he can suddenly cook in his old age.

Jason & Tim: *Turning to each other after Dick leaves* This means war.

Canon based

Dick is Tim's idol

Dick is Jason's idol

Dick teaching Tim panels I already posted before but here's him teaching Tim to fold laundry.

Dick protecting Jason's eyes from unsavory sights

Dick calling Jason Little Wing

Dick took Jason skiing when he was robin

Bruce being manipulative about wanting Dick back (another addition)

Jason is just like Bruce

And for fun XD

#it's back!#sorry I had 12 am impulse and 7 am rethoughts #love you guys #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #jason todd #red hood #jake grayson #mari grayson #bruce wayne #batman #batfam incorrect quotes

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riboism · 2 years

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ateez headcannon | innocent things you do that drive them crazy

a/n: someone sent me this request a while back, and i’m so sorry but I think I deleted it by mistake :( I hope whoever that person was sees this, and I’m sorry it took so long to make! They never specified if they wanted this to be fluff or smut, so I kinda did both lol.

genre: fluff, suggestive (nothing crazy)

Seonghwa: When you put on makeup. Especially lipstick.

You always took forever getting ready, and that would really piss off your very punctual boyfriend. One evening, he barged into your room, annoyed to see that you were still getting ready when you two were already ten minutes late for the dinner reservation. “Do you know how hard it was to get a reservation here?” he nagged, “The restaurant is half an hour away, and that’s not including the five o’clock traffic that’s gonna…” He trailed off as he watched you apply your lipstick. The sight of you opening your mouth wide and rubbing the cherry red nub over your lips made his knees weak. From then on, he never complained about your tardiness again. Instead, he’ll lay on your bed after getting ready, resting his head onto his palm as he watches you play with your makeup. He admired how you knew just what to do; how much blush to put on, what colors to blend over your eyes, how steady your hand was as you drew on perfect black lines over your lids, and of course, how sultry you looked when you pouted your lips and rubbed the bright red color on. He especially loves it when you go over the red with a lip gloss. The way your juicy red lips moved when you talked was mesmerizing, and he’d feel only a little bad when you’d ask him if he was still listening to you. He thought your lips looked even more kissable, but you never allowed him to kiss you, afraid that he’ll ruin your makeup. But your pleas went in one ear and out the other, and Seonghwa leans in anyway for a messy and passionate kiss. You’d be so annoyed afterwards, digging into your bag for your compact mirror so that you could fix this mess. Some of the color would transfer onto his lips, but Seonghwa never bothered to wipe it off. Instead, he’ll walk around happily, proud to show off the glossy red lips that he now shared with you.

Hongjoong: When you wear something that he bought for you.

It’s safe to say that about 60% of your closet was stuff that Hongjoong bought for you. You’d tell him to go to the store to pick up a gallon of milk, and he’ll come back with a brand new outfit for you instead. One night, you arrived to the resturant where your boyfriend waited for you at the corner table. He was stunned to see you in the silky green dress he had bought for you just months ago. Of course, he was the one who picked it out, but he never imagined just how good you’d look in it. Too bad, he thought to himself, too bad I’ll have to rip it off of you when we get home.

Yunho: When you come back from a run.

Yunho was fast asleep while you went out on your early morning run. You came back half an hour later, the sound of you rummaging through the drawers for a towel awaking him from his slumber. He loved how you looked after your work out; your hair all messy with a few flyaways sticking out, your cheeks flushed from all the circulation. He admired how your sports bra always matched your leggings, and the way the pants hugged your thighs so perfectly. Yunho pretend to be asleep, opening his eyes just enough to watch you strip from your sweaty workout clothes. You’d never guess how much your sweaty, tired, and out of breath state turned him on. How badly he wanted to touch you, to give you another reason to be out of breath. But he knew you’d never let him anywhere near you when you were like this, and so he would have to reach down and take care of his hard on by himself before you come back out from the shower.

Yeosang: When you get your nails done.

The first thing you did when you got home from the salon was show your boyfriend Yeosang your new set. He stopped playing his game and took your hands into his. He examined your acrylics, admiring the pretty designs and colors on each nail. You usually did earthy or nude colors, but today you decided to do a bubblegum pink shade. Something about the color pink on your nails gave Yeosang a rush. He lost himself in a daydream, imagining how pretty your hands would look right now, gripped around his hard cock. “What do you think?” you asked, a little concerned with how quiet he was. You worried that maybe he didn’t like it. “Is it the almond shape? Or the color? I thought I’d try something different today. Is it bad?” He snapped out of his daydream and gave you a reassuring smile. “No, no. It’s pretty. I like it.” He brought your hands up to his lips, giving them a quick peck before swiveling back on his chair and returning to his game.

San: When you play with the drawstrings of his sweatpants.

You walked up behind San as he cut up some garlic. “What are you making?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Well I wanted to make mac n cheese, but the store didn’t have any colby jack, can you believe that? So I...” your fingers twiddled with his drawstrings, untying and retying it as he went on tell you about the grocery store fiasco. It was a habit of yours to play with his drawstrings, sort of like a fidget thing. You didn’t really think much of it. Sometimes you didn’t even realize that you were doing it. Your boyfriend, however, was very aware of this habit of yours, and it never failed to turn him into putty. The feel of your fingers so dangerously close to his waistband made him a little dizzy. The confident boy you were met with when you first walked into the kitchen was now a stuttering mess “and um...and I thought m-maybe I can make something with uh...with pesto...” You let go of his drawstrings and gave him a quick peck on the cheek “Sounds great. Let me know if you need any help.” Needless to say, he did need your help, but not with dinner.

Mingi: When you play with his hair.

Mingi’s loved lazy Sunday’s with you on the couch. You were reading a book when he came into the room, and he invited himself to come sit next to you. He laid his head on your lap, signaling you to play with his hair. Without looking away from your book, you brought your free hand down and ran your fingers through his silky hair. Your fingers grazed at the side of his head, rubbing them gently over his ear lobe. That was his sweet spot and it turned him into a drooling mess. He was completely paralyzed from your addicting touch. He wished you two could stay like this forever. Although this was just a sweet and mindless activity, Mingi couldn’t help but have perverted thoughts. As you read on, Mingi thought about how good it would feel if you played with his hair like this while he goes down on you. He’d probably fall asleep right between your legs.

Wooyoung: When you're sick.

Wooyoung loved being babied. But he loves babying you even more. You're pretty independent, which was something he both adored and hated. He wanted to be able to take care of you sometimes, but you never let him. He tried to hide his excitement when you told him that you were coming down with something. Now was his chance.

Wooyoung thought you were so cute when you were weak and needy. Despite you telling him that it wasn’t a serious illness, that you had the cold under control, he still insisted on tucking you into bed, blowing on a spoonful of hot soup before feeding it into your mouth, and making you endless cups of tea. And when your sinuses kept you up at night, he didn’t hesitate to slip a hand into your panties, giving you a slow and gentle orgasm to help put you to sleep.

Jongho: When you ask him to kill a bug for you/ when you’re scared.

You hated when the weather got warmer and sticker because that meant you had to deal with seeing unwanted visitors in your home. One night, when you were getting ready to shower, you noticed a very creepy looking centipede hanging around the shower drain. A shiver went down your spine, and you immediately ran to Jongho. He looked up from his phone, instantly knowing what was wrong from the scared expression on your face. “Where is it?”

“Shower drain” you replied, your voice a little shaky. He sighed as he walked over to the bathroom to take care of the situation. Jongho would act annoyed with how frequently you came to him for help in these situations, but secretly he liked it. He liked that he was the first person you’d run to for help. He also liked how you’d hide behind him, watching nervously as he disposed of the pest. He thought it was cute how you squirmed around when he’d chase you with the napkin he used to collect the dead bug. As sadistic as it sounds, it kind of turned him on.

When it was his turn to pick a movie for movie night, he always picked horror. He loved seeing you get all tense, clinging onto his arm right before a jumpscare. He was your security blanket, and he was happy to be the one to protect you, to be the one you felt most safe with.

taglist: @hyuckilstan @ateezsatinysworld

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magicfootballstuff · 9 months

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Dirty Little Secret - part 3 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 3/?

Read other parts here.

———

Your life can be split into two parts - before the Arnold Clark Cup and after the Arnold Clark Cup.

Or before Leila and after Leila.

You return to Arsenal and it’s surprisingly easy to settle back into the club routine and prepare for the next league game. You’d been slightly worried that it would be difficult to adjust, an abrupt return to reality after ten days of secret meetings and illicit hookups, but life at Arsenal is exactly as it was before.

It helps that the Arnold Clark Cup almost feels like it took place in a different reality. What you had with Leila was just a holiday fling between two consenting adults. You’ve both returned to your real lives now.

But then one evening three weeks after the international break, you’re tidying your apartment and sorting through things to have a clearout, when you find Leila’s red Spain jersey amongst a pile of clothes. You trace your finger over the yellow number fifteen on the front, then flip it over to look at Leila’s name on the back. You haven’t yet washed it and when you lift it to your nose and inhale, you’re sure you can still smell Leila’s scent on it, and you know that you didn’t imagine those two weeks at all.

You haven’t talked to Leila since you parted ways at the end of the international break, but seeing her shirt brings a whirlwind of memories that leaves you yearning for something.

Before you even have time to second guess yourself, you’re swapping your sweatshirt for Leila’s football shirt, then sprawling artfully across your bed as you take a selfie from above and send it to Leila.

You Thanks for the new pyjamas

It’s just a bit of fun - just like every other moment you shared with Leila. Part of you doesn’t expect her to reply. And she doesn’t straight away, you’ve given up on sorting and have settled down on the sofa to watch a Manchester City men’s game on the television when your phone finally vibrates with a response.

Leila Looking gooood 🤤

She doesn’t say anything else and you leave it there, not sure what else to say without coming across as too eager, so you set your phone aside and give your full attention to the football.

An hour has passed before another message comes through.

Leila Sorry I was out for dinner but home now

She’s attached an image to her message, a picture of her wearing the England shirt you exchanged with her. Except that she’s wearing just the England shirt, the hem coming down to cover her hips but very little else, her long legs bare.

You Leilaaaaa

Suddenly you don’t care about the football on the TV anymore.

———

Arsenal gets knocked out of the Champions League in the quarter finals by Wolfsburg, which means you miss out on the opportunity to play against Leila again in the semi final. Your last glimmer of hope that you might get to see Leila before a possible meeting during the Euros in the summer is snuffed out.

But when Barcelona beats Wolfsburg to advance to the final, you receive a surprising message a few days later.

Leila You coming to the Champions League final?

You hadn’t really given it much thought to be honest, since your own Champions League journey came to an end and it became irrelevant. The final is after your own season ends and there’s been talk amongst some of your Arsenal teammates of going on holiday together before you all split off into your various national teams for the Euros, but nothing set in stone.

The chance to watch Leila play in such an important match, to possibly even see her lift the trophy that every footballer in Europe dreams of lifting, would be special. But you haven’t seen Leila since the Arnold Clark Cup and there’s not enough of a thing going on between you for it to seem appropriate for you to just show up without Leila’s permission.

You Do you want me to come?

Before even waiting for Leila’s response, you already start checking your diary, working out the logistics of a spontaneous weekend in Turin and whether it fits in with your pre-Euro schedule.

Leila Yeahhhh. I can get a free ticket if you want? Barca friends and family area

You smile to yourself as you type out your reply.

You Aww, am I your friend? 😉 Why do you think I’d be cheering for Barca anyway? Maybe I’m a big Lyon fan

Leila replies straight away.

Leila 🖕

———

It turns out that Leila is serious about her offer of a ticket to the Champions League final, which is why just two weeks after the end of your season with Arsenal and the heartbreak of missing out on the title by just a single point, you get on a plane to Turin by yourself.

You don’t own a Barcelona shirt and though you take the Spain shirt from Leila with you, it stays in your suitcase as you head to the stadium. Having not yet had the chance to talk to Leila in person, you’re still not sure exactly what’s going on between you and it feels like a step too far to show up to one of her games wearing her name on your back.

Instead, you’re trying to keep a low profile, donning a pair of dark sunglasses in the hope that it’ll make you less likely to get spotted by eager-eyed fans curious to discover why you’re sitting in the Barcelona family section.

It’s easy to get swept up in the atmosphere of the stadium. There are way more Barcelona fans than Lyon fans and the noise they make is immense. You’re a Manchester City fan, an Arsenal player, but tonight you’re a culer. You don’t know the chants but you don’t need to because you get caught up in the pure thrill of it all. Even when Barcelona go one, two, three goals down, the singing continues and there’s still belief that they can pull this back. Alexia gets one back just before half time that feels like a reward to the fans for their belief in the team.

But despite Barcelona’s best efforts in the second half, Lyon’s three goals prove too much to overcome and when the final whistle blows, they collapse to the pitch, exhausted and defeated.

You watch as Leila, who spent the game on the bench, wanders onto the pitch at full time, and your heart breaks for her when you see the hurt on her face and the tears shining in her eyes. You know that Barcelona were favourites and if you’re completely honest, you expected them to win. You thought that you would be celebrating with Leila tonight, but Lyon have the best record in this competition for a reason and now you need to prepare yourself to console her.

It’s quite a lot for something that’s just a casual friends with benefits situation, but then again, so is flying to Italy to watch the final in the first place.

The trophy ceremony seems to drag on forever, as if you’re down there on the pitch on the losing team yourself. You’ve been on the wrong side of a cup final enough times yourself to know that there are very few worse feelings in football than having to stay on the pitch after losing such an important game and watching another team celebrate with the trophy you wanted to lift, so you know exactly how Leila must be feeling right now.

After the ceremony, the Barcelona players wander over to this section of the crowd and greet their families over the advertising boards. You hang back as Leila exchanges hugs with what you assume to be her family. This moment is for them, not for you, and you know that you need to wait for Leila to beckon you across if she wants to see you. What would you say to them anyway? You can hardly introduce yourself to Leila’s parents as the girl who hooked up with their daughter for two weeks in February. If the roles were reversed, you don’t know if you’d want to explain the situation to your own family.

So you wait, and you keep waiting.

But Leila doesn’t beckon you over. In fact, she doesn’t even acknowledge you’re there at all.

The longer you’re standing there, the more the doubt starts to cloud your mind. At first it was explainable - there are obviously other people here to see Leila who she would prioritise talking to after the game more than you. But when she moves away from her own family to talk to the family of her teammates, then eventually moves back onto the pitch and hovers around a group of dejected Barcelona players, you start to wonder if Leila has forgotten that she invited you entirely.

Maybe you should’ve been more assertive. Maybe you should’ve stood closer to the barrier so that Leila couldn’t miss you.

You sit down again on the plastic stadium seat and pull out your phone, deciding to message Leila instead

You Sorry about the result but I’m so proud of you anyway! Let me know when you’re free? I can’t wait to see you!

When you look up, you can no longer see Leila. You scan the few blaugrana shirts still on the pitch just in case, but most of the team seems to have returned inside to the dressing room and you can only assume that Leila is one of them. The crowd has thinned out too, even the friends and family sections that were full long after the rest of the fans started to leave the stadium is starting to empty, and you know it’s probably time for you to leave too.

As you make your way out of the stands, you find a quiet corner on the almost deserted stadium concourse and decide to call Leila. You’re not sure if she’s checked her phone yet since the final whistle, so it’s not exactly a surprise when it rings straight through to her voicemail, but you decide to leave a message anyway.

“Leila, it’s me,” you say. “Listen, I…” You let out a sigh, then say, “I know you must be hurting right now. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling and I … and I just wish I could do something or say something to make it better but I can’t. But I’m proud of you. Just getting to the final is an achievement. Shit, I know that’s not what you need to hear right now but…”

You lean your head against the nearest wall and close your eyes in frustration, fully aware that you’re rambling almost nonsensically at this point.

“I’m here if you need me,” you continue. “Or if you don’t, that’s fine too. I’m leaving the stadium to get some food, then I’ll probably go back to my hotel, but just let me know you’re okay?”

You hesitate for just a few seconds, unsure how to sign off, before you panic and just end the message there.

“Fuck!” you growl.

You turn around to lean your back against the wall, only to realise that the concourse isn’t as empty as you thought, but that two fans in Barcelona shirts have just witnessed your outburst.

“Sorry,” you apologise to them, but they don’t seem bothered by your swearing. In fact, they actually approach you, a little giddy, and you suddenly remember that you’re not as anonymous as you’d often like to be.

“Can we get a selfie?” one of the girls asks, taking out her phone. “My friend is a huge Arsenal fan. You’re one of her favourite players.”

You force a smile onto your face. Normally you don’t mind fan interactions, in fact it usually warms your heart to know that there are people out there who you don’t even know who support you and look up to you, but there’s a time and place for that and you’re really not in the mood right now. Despite that, Leila is to blame for your sour mood, not them, and you’re not going to take out your frustrations on a couple of innocent fans.

“Of course,” you tell them, positioning yourself so that one girl stands on either side of you and smiling at the outstretched phone of the girl on the left.

“Thank you,” they say, once the selfies have been taken.

“No problem,” you reply, and you only let the smile slide off your face when they’re out of sight.

You really need to get out of here. And fast.

———

You thought that by distancing yourself from the stadium and the match, it might ease your mind a little. But by the time you get back to your hotel with a paper bag of takeout food, you feel more uneasy than ever.

Leila is still silent. No texts, no calls, nothing on social media.

You replay your voicemail message over and over again in your mind, each word sitting like a brick on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Was it too much? Surely Leila would have messaged you when she was ready. What if your message comes across as needy, as smothering? What if you’re only pushing her away further?

Fuck. Leila probably doesn’t even want you here at all. You’re only a hookup to her, a bit of fun to pass your downtime during the Arnold Clark Cup. You were wrong to read anything more into the invitation to watch the final. She can only have wanted you here on standby, a plaything to use as a celebration if Barcelona won the trophy. But they didn’t and she doesn’t need you, she doesn’t want you.

The more you spiral, the more you want to speak to her. Just a single message, a word of reassurance or even just an acknowledgement that she’s not in the right headspace to see you tonight, would be enough to settle your anxiety.

As it is, you’re alone in a hotel room in an unfamiliar city with nothing but a bag of food and your own intrusive thoughts.

You want to call someone, to talk to a friend before you completely fall apart. Leah, perhaps. You’ve known her forever and out of all your friends, she’s probably the least likely to judge you if you call her up out of nowhere in floods of tears and tell her you’re having a breakdown in a hotel room in Turin over some girl you hardly know. In fact, Leah is such a good friend that if she knew you were distressed, she’d probably hop on the first flight to Italy to comfort you in person.

But Leah is on holiday in America and she deserves the time off before the Euros without having to worry about her idiotic best friend having girl problems on the other side of the world.

You’re just going to have to deal with this alone.

Hot tears spill down your face and you cocoon yourself beneath the bedcovers, wishing that the bed would swallow you whole.

You don’t know how you could’ve been so stupid to think that this meant something, how you could’ve been so stupid to catch feelings for Leila when there are clearly far too many obstacles between you for it to ever work out. In your defence, it’s only now that you’re starting to realise that you are catching feelings for her, but still… you could’ve done more to stop it from happening in the first place.

The doubt and the self-loathing clouds your mind and you cry it out until you can’t cry anymore, until you finally succumb to exhaustion, passing out into a dreamless sleep with tear-stained cheeks.

———

You wake up alone, having had a bad night’s sleep, to several messages from Leila, which can be summed up by the most recent one.

Leila Can I see you today?

The rest of her messages, all sent within the last couple of hours this morning, are a mixture of pleas and apologies.

You’re still pissed at her for not responding to any of your messages last night. But you flew all the way to Turin at Leila’s request, used the ticket that she gave you for free to watch the match, and you don’t fly back until later today. And, despite your anger, you do still want to see her.

You’re not going to make an effort though, which is why you message her back with the address of your hotel. If Leila wants to see you, then she can be the one to make the effort to come and see you herself.

When she arrives at your hotel, you decide to meet her downstairs in the hotel restaurant, instead of inviting her up to your room. There’s less temptation to let her seduce her way back onto your good side if you meet in public.

Leila looks like shit - that’s your first impression. She looks like she’s had even less sleep than you have, her eyes puffy, her expression weary, her usual smile absent.

If she hadn’t pissed you off yesterday, you’d probably hug her.

Instead, you just let her sit down across from you and ask her, “Do you want to eat?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m not hungry today.”

“Coffee, then?” you suggest, because she definitely looks like she needs it.

Leila nods.

You’ve already ordered yourself a coffee (you’re normally a tea person but you don’t want to risk the Italian tea not being to your taste) and a sandwich, but you call over the waiter once more for Leila.

“So what happened?” you eventually ask, once Leila has ordered her coffee.

“I’m sorry,” Leila apologises with a shrug, and from the way that her eyebrows are furrowed together, it seems like she’s having a difficult time trying to hold herself together.

“Sorry for what?” you ask, waiting for her to admit that she messed up, but when she doesn’t, you continue talking. “I flew here by myself, I sat in the family section surrounded by people I don’t know, all speaking a language I don’t understand. The only person I knew in this city yesterday was you. You invited me here. I thought you wanted me here.”

“I want you here,” Leila pleads with you. “But a lot happened yesterday and it was too much.”

“I get that. You think I’ve never lost a cup final? I came here to support you, win or lose. And then you hurt me. You made me feel like an idiot.”

The effort that Leila has been putting into not falling apart crumbles and the sobs heave through her body, shoulders trembling and tears spilling down her cheeks. Annoyed with her or otherwise, it’s not nice to see, and you feel a pang of regret that your harsh words have upset her.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say, reaching for one of the unused napkins on the table and passing it across to Leila, letting your fingers brush against her hand as you do. “I’m pissed off, but I don’t want to see you cry. I don’t care that you didn’t win the Champions League. I would’ve loved to watch you lift that trophy but I’m proud of you anyway for making it to the final.”

Leila uses the napkin to wipe her tears, and the silence, as well as the sad look in her eyes, compels you to keep talking.

“And it’s not like I was expecting anything from you yesterday either,” you tell her. “If you didn’t want to see me or you were too busy, that’s fine. But just one message to let me know what was going on and I wouldn’t have been left waiting around feeling stupid.”

“I know, I know,” Leila says, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “So much stuff is happening right now. It’s all too much. But you’re right, I should have messaged.”

You don’t know what to say. It almost feels like you’re back to square one, like you don’t even know Leila at all. But then you realise - do you even know Leila? It’s not like you’ve actually spent any time getting to know each other. There’s an obvious attraction between you, and physical chemistry too, but do you actually have anything in common beside your profession?

“Can I make it up to you?” Leila blurts out.

“How?” you ask.

You’re expecting a smirk to slide across Leila’s lips and for her to suggest you go somewhere private for her to apologise to you in a more physical way, but instead, she looks you straight in the eye and says, “Come to Barcelona?”

“When?”

“This week. We have another final - la Copa de la Reina. You could come to the game.”

You let out a sigh. You can’t put yourself through what you’ve been through this weekend again, as tempting as it is to just forgive Leila and succumb to her request. Yet despite the fact that you cried yourself to sleep last night because of Leila, you can’t deny the fact you’ve still got a soft spot for her and it’s incredibly difficult to say no to her.

“I’ve got an England camp coming up soon,” you try to reason with her. “We’re starting our Euro prep.”

“Just for a few days,” Leila pleads with you. “I really want you to come. Please.”

“I can’t just drop everything at short notice,” you tell Leila, though your plans for the next couple of weeks don’t involve much more than relaxing as much as possible before getting straight back to work with the Lionesses.

“Okay,” Leila says, and though that’s all she says, you can tell she’s disappointed.

Would it really be so bad if you said yes? Would it hurt to give her another chance? You don’t want what happened yesterday to ruin what’s been going between you forever, which means forgiving her at some point. Maybe a little holiday in Barcelona, especially before you enter the biggest summer of your life so far, is exactly what you need.

It’ll be like the Arnold Clark Cup all over again, an escape from reality until you have to return to life as a footballer and Leila’s on-pitch rival.

“Fine, I’ll look at flights to Barcelona,” you concede. “I can give you two days, maybe three, before I need to be back in England.”

“Thank you,” Leila says, smiling at you gratefully.

She reaches into the little bag that she brought with her and pulls out a piece of blue and pink fabric, and as she unfurls it you realise it’s a Barcelona shirt.

“My jersey from yesterday,” she explains as she passes it across the table. “To thank you for coming to see me. If you can come to Barcelona next week, you could wear it to the final?”

Wearing Leila’s name to one of her matches sounds serious. It sounds like a commitment. As is flying to Turin, or even to Barcelona to watch one of her games, but that hasn’t quite gone to plan.

Things were so easy when you were flirting from different countries, or sneaking around St George’s Park for a bit of fun. The rational part of your brain tries to warn you that it’s probably not a good thing that at the first sign of this perhaps actually being a little more serious, it’s resulted in this misunderstanding and both of you getting upset.

But the pleading look in Leila’s bloodshot eyes is impossible to say no to.

“Thanks,” you say, refolding the jersey and setting it aside.

“When do you go home?” Leila asks.

“This afternoon,” you answer. “My flight’s just after four. You?”

“In a couple of hours,” Leila tells you. “I can’t stay much longer. Only Patri knows I’m not at the team hotel.”

You can’t help but smile, reminded a little of the way you both snuck around St George’s Park back in February, only now your secrecy has led you to fly to a whole different country while Leila has snuck across town to see you.

This thing between you, this connection that has been growing since that tackle back in Barcelona, is far from easy. But aren’t the best things in life worth the fight?

“Come here,” you say, pushing back your chair and getting to your feet.

You hold your arms out wide until Leila understands and gets up too, stepping around the table and into your embrace. Her arms wind around your back as you pull her close, burying your face into her shoulder

“Thank you for giving me another chance,” Leila mumbles into your hair.

You don’t say anything in response, instead simply squeezing her closer and savouring the feeling of her body against yours. If you can make the logistics of a trip to Barcelona next week work, it won’t be long until you can hold her again like this, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to make the most of every second you can get with her before you have to go in separate directions again.

If this tumultuous weekend in Turin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t take anything for granted.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi imagine #dirty little secret

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