#posts that made me put my head in my hands and just stay there for a minute

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Guileless

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)

Masterlist

Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson

Note: thanks to those who waited on this one!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖

It should be the happiest time in your life. You should be elated, and yet, as ever it is, every victory precedes a treacherous defeat. A proposal one day, and despair the next. That nipping of doom in your gut, that ever present doubt, is made certain by the passage of time. It has been much too long. 

You sit in the pews, throat tight as you keep your chin locked. You breathe slowly, as if too sudden an intake might unleash the tempest brewing inside of you. It is more than nerves, you know it, that sicken you so. You should be happy for your pending nuptials but you are only horrified at the thought. 

The bishop reads out the banns before the rows; the first for yourself, the third for your sister. She will be permitted to wed and your mother has presided over much of planning already. You dip your head as your name rings out beside Lord Odinson’s and you swallow back a swell of bile. You’ve been gulping down your own stomach for much of the morning, ever since you caught a whiff of pickled shallots in passing the kitchens. 

You push your head up and your hand down to your lap, knowing you will be observed. You must at least look certain of your fate. You must sit proud for the engagement all would put into question. For the time until it shall all dissolve, you must play your part. 

You can barely keep from wilting where you are. A prudent woman might bite her tongue. She may commit to the theatre of it all. She might lie and get away with the folly. You glance over at Lord Odinson, just across the aisle, and you know you cannot. It isn’t one lie, it’s a lifetimes’ worth of betrayal. 

Yet how should you tell it? It isn’t only him who must know. Your father would need good reason why you’d rather the convent to a proper marriage. You will be ruined but you could not put that stain upon the only person who was ever kind to you. Lord Odinson deserves an honest wife and a child of his own. 

Your insides sour and you nearly spasm as you fight the tide of nausea, brought upon by more than your forsaken condition. Your eyes trail away from your betrothed to another man bound in promise. Lord Rogers sits with your sister, as ever, and she leans on him shamelessly, even beneath the Lord’s rafters. 

She would deny it. She would laugh in your face should you ever reveal the absolute truth. No, you must confess the sin as your own and that alone. You will not name the culprit for they would they never believe you and he would never admit it himself. 

Yet, you know that the Duke Rogers will ever be triumphant in knowing that he has brought the monstrous giant to her knees. You are his Goliath, the vile retched creature he has slain in his valour. He will be hero and you be the villain. 

💟

You hand the letter to the carrier just before noon. You don’t expect an audience to be granted until the next morning at earliest. Lord Odinson is a busy man; an ambassador in much demand between the house and society. Even his betrothed must request his presence. 

The cart rattles through the gates and you watch it fade off into the grim horizon. The winter bites in the air, adding to the chill in your bones. That coldness that freeze over your heart. You must be strong now, as strong as the valkyrie he misnamed you as. 

When you go to Lord Odinson, you will bring the crown to him. You will hand it back and admit your tainted stature to him. You will show him how truly small you are.  

At least, that is what you intend. You may prove yourself weak as ever. However it should unfold, this engagement cannot persist. 

“A day! A day and I shall call you husband,” Cora’s shrill tone greets you as you come through the front doors. She is in the sitting room with Lord Rogers. Your mother continues to fawn over the last-minute details for their wedding. “Isn’t it very exciting, my lord?” 

“And I shall call you wife.” 

“And Duchess,” she preens with a trilling laugh, “oh, how elaborate I shall be.” 

“My Athena,” Rogers drones back, “my goddess, my beloved.” 

“Oh, how darling,” your mother preens over them, “it shall be resplendent. I’ve made certain the cake will be exactly as you like it, dearie. The cook has even procured some citrus for the lemonade.” 

The mention of lemonade makes you shrivel. You recall the sunny day when Lord Rogers spoke to you over a weeping beverage. As you fell for that virulent charm. And all that came after. 

You peer at the grim windows and frown. How everything does change so quickly. Happiness is fleeting and yet disappointment comes as a chronic plight. You will never know a day without shame. 

You flit off without notice. Your heart rents at the thought that you will not have the same fervour. You will not sit and plan your own wedding with Lord Odinson. All your fanciful dreams have evaporated. It is one thing to put a mask on, to pretend as virgin, but you could never foist a bastard upon the kind man who has shown you a taste happiness. You will be certain to thank him for all he’s done but you will not spit in his face. 

As you get to the bedroom doors, your stomach churns violently and you burst through, not stopping as you rush to the pot and fall to your knees. You wretch into it as your body contracts painfully. You empty your stomach until you are panting and hollow. 

“Sister,” Alina startles you as she rolls to the edge of the bed, a novel in hand, “is it a winter ague?” 

“I...” you shakily wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I believe so.” 

That lie alone singes your tongue like a brand. Your eyes well with tears and you flick them away with your lashes. You sit back on your heels and heave out a pungent breath. 

“Oh, how awful, and just before the wedding,” she sits up and shuts the novel. “Let us pray it passes quickly. You needn’t delay your own nuptials.” 

“Mm, no, that wouldn’t be...” you let the sentence tail off and you stand, taking the pot with you, “I’ll dump it before it can stink.” 

“If you are unwell, call for the maid.” 

“No, it is fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.” 

“You didn’t,” she insists. “What’s the matter, sissie? You hardly seem a lady about to marry.” 

“I...” you croak, “it is the ague, that’s all.” 

“Mm, perhaps Lord Odinson might offer some comfort should it get any worse. He does seem the character,” she offers. 

“Or perhaps he is better to stay away. You as well, should it pass onto anyone else,” you hold the pot to your stomach and turn, carrying it out without another word. Albina huffs and falls back onto the bed, the flutter of pages following shortly after. 

You descend and keep along the wall, passing through the kitchens and beyond the servants’ quarters to the rear of the manse. You come out into the crisp air and overturn the pot well away from the house. A wave of dizziness washes over you, silver spots dotting your vision. Perhaps it is an ague. Oh how you wish it were. 

You set the pot down as you grasp at some stability. You stand and wipe your clammy forehead. Your hand drifts down to your bodice and you let it venture further. You try to feel your stomach through the layers. It is tauter than it once was but no rounder. Not as yet. 

You sit on a low stump, the seat the stabler uses to shoe the horses. You let the frigid air seep through your dress and stare at the grey clouds that blot out the sun. You hold your chin, elbows on your legs, hunched over as you let the stagnancy of that moment swallow you. 

For a moment, you believe that you can make time stand still. That you might stretch on this fantasy a little longer. That a single second might be spent into an eternity. You shake your head and close your eyes as your cheeks tingle with the cold. 

You try to picture the convent. You imagine dark halls and darker mornings. Prayers and repentance filling the days and keeping wakeless the nights. Would the nuns even accept a ruined soul like yours? 

“Miss,” Mary, the broom girl, stands along the path back to the house, “you have a caller.” 

You sit up and blink, a caller? How long have you been there? You shiver and rise, towering over the young servant like the mottled forest creature of wives tales. You nod and stride past her, rubbing your arms to warm yourself as you return to the house. 

It cannot be him. Not already. You’re not prepared. It has been all you can think of and yet you are wholly unready for it. 

You carry on inside and come into the main hall. Lord Odinson waits, your mother chittering at his elbow as Lord Rogers and Cora stand in the archway to the west wing. 

“You will be at the wedding tomorrow? We did not receive your response sir,” your mother pleads as she tugs his sleeve. 

“Ah, yes, did I not give it?” Odinson says coolly, “certainly I will come with some Asgardian ale to christen the blissful newlyweds.” 

“And we thank you for such generosity,” Cora coos. 

“I’m certain refreshments will be plenty,” Lord Rogers deflects. 

“Ah,” Lord Odinson’s attention is drawn by your emergence from behind the staircase, “my valkyrie, you called for me and I am here.” 

“I... you have come so... swiftly,” you remark, your voice teetering. 

“Of course,” he assures as he crosses the polished floor, “as ever I will for my beloved.” He approaches and takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “you are like ice,” he feels your hands and covers them with his gloved ones, “are you ill?” 

“No, uh, yes, no,” you stammer, “sir, I only meant... I only thought to speak with you.” 

“I do cherish the tenor of your sweet voice, lady, I would ride so fast as I might to hear it,” he assures. 

“You rode... all this way, my lord?” 

“I do prefer to be in a saddle,” he affirms, “so, shall we converse? Perhaps we might have some tea to warm you, my valkyrie.” 

“Please,” you cringe, wishing he would quit his honeyed words, “I do not require it. Perhaps somewhere private...” 

“With chaperone of course,” your mother insists. You blanch but do your best not to show your unease. “Pollo! Pollo!” She claps, “forgive me I will not be able to do so myself as I have much to attend to for the morrow, but we have a groom here... Pollo!” 

She cries out and the dark-haired man appears. The old groom has a round belly and wine-reddened cheeks. He doesn’t speak more than Italian but he is steadfast in his service. Your mother bids him, pointing at you, then shoos him with a flick of her fingers. 

He shrugs and bows his head, nearing you and the duke. You peer over at your sister and Lord Rogers as they watch. The former stares at your betrothed as he clings still to your hands and the latter narrows his eyes in your direction. Just the sight of him makes you even more sick than before. Of any, he cannot know though you expect should Cora find out, it will not be a secret. 

“The sun room, perhaps,” Odinson suggests. 

“As you wish,” you agree. 

He offers his arms and you accept it. He guides you along, well-acquainted to the halls already, and takes you around to the sun room. The curtains are closed and the space is dim with the shadow of winter. The groom claims the armchair in the corner, making it groan with his weight, as another servant follows to light a lamp and put flint to the fireplace. 

When all is lit, you detach from Odinson and retreat from him. You mash your hands together and sway, spinning back to face him as he watches you intently. He seems unbothered by the spontaneity of it all. 

“You missed me? I have longed to see you again,” he beams. 

“Please,” you show your palms, “please, I... we must speak.” 

“Of? Name anything and it shall be yours. As my wife, you will never want for anything, valkyrie.” 

You wince as if struck. You drop your arms and your head. You stalk over to the bench that looks toward the window and sit, slumped forward as you shake your head. He approaches as he lets out a long exhale. He sits beside you. 

“Something is amiss. Forgive me for making light, I came upon mistaken sentiment,” his voice is grave, “you have something to say and I must listen. As ever, I am the storm but these winds have calmed.” 

You rock and another hot tinge settles behind your eyes. You roll them up and sit straight. You crane to see over your shoulder. Rollo’s eyes are closed as he’s halfway to sleeping. It is propriety alone that has him sat in that chair. 

You look ahead once more, “I cannot marry you.” 

He sucks in air and snorts, “what?” 

“I cannot—it cannot—I'm sorry, Lord Odinson.” 

“Why ever should you change your mind? The banns are read and will be again,” he touches your arm and you shy away. 

“You deserve... better.” 

“I deserve you,” he insists. 

“Please, sir, let me find the words,” you beg touch your temples as you try to rein in your wits. You close your eyes and shudder. 

“You are cold still, perhaps you might move closer to the fire--” 

“It hardly matters,” you lower your hands and clutch them tight.  

You make yourself look at him. You must. He warrants at least the truth told to his face and not the floor. His blue eyes twinkle as his usually bright face is stern. 

“I am...” you take a breath and struggle to let it back out as the words burn the tip of your tongue, “I... am with... child.” 

You choke out the last word and nearly faint. You stare at him, waiting for him to explode. You mightn’t even have a say in who knows should he speak too loudly. His eyes search yours and he blinks. He turns his face down and looks at his lap, gripping his thighs as he nods and hums. 

“That’s wonderful,” he says. 

“Pardon?” 

“Yes, it’s wonderful. We’ll have a child.” 

“Sir, I—we haven’t... it is another man’s,” you feel as if you shouldn’t have to explain this. 

“Why certainly he put it there, yes, but I would claim it,” he faces you again. 

Your eyes round, “why should you do that? That isn’t... proper. I am not proper, sir. I am telling you that I have been... corrupted. I should never have said yes.” 

“But you did.” 

“You needn’t-- it isn’t fair.” 

“Perhaps it isn’t fair that you should have to carry the cad’s seed,” he agrees, “for any many who would lay with a lady and not seek her hand, well, he can be nothing else.” 

You’re quiet as disbelief clouds around you. He can’t possibly mean it. He must be in shock. Certainly, he wouldn’t just accept another’s child. 

“Sir, you shouldn’t-- you shouldn’t do this. I am releasing you.” 

“I don’t want to be released,” he says sullenly. 

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask. 

“I meant all I said to you, from the first breath, my valkyrie,” he proclaims. “And I mean it still.” 

“But, sir, you cannot—I cannot live with myself--” 

“You are honourable. Honest. You have told me this when you did not need to. When you could’ve claimed an early birth, when you could have kept quiet, yet you did not. That says more than a fleeting tryst. For that’s what it was, yes? Or do you lay with this man still?” 

You shake your head and look down at your fingers as you twists them until they hurt, “just once. Only once. It was... unplanned. It wasn’t...” your voice cracks. 

His chest inflates with a sonorous breath, “did you want it?” 

“Pardon?” You murmur. 

“Unplanned... did you... was it... your tryst, was it willing?” 

You put your fist to your mouth and sob. You can’t say it. You won’t. You replay it in your head every night and you think of how you told him to stop and yet you did not stop him. You should have fought more. You should have screamed. 

“I didn’t make him stop,” you eke around your hand. 

“Make him? Did you ask him to begin?” 

“Please, sir, I cannot—please just end this and I will ask my father for the convent once more. I cannot bring this shame on you.” 

“Shame? Shame is the man, if I should call him that, who has done this,” he snarls and reaches for you, taking your hand. “I swore you would be my wife and I will hold to that. As you swore to be my wife. We will see the altar together. As one.” 

“You do not have to--” 

“I want to,” he growls and you look up at his angry face. You’ve never seen such fury in him. “I have never done anything but by my own whim and will not change that now.” 

“You are too nice, sir. Too nice, I cannot ask it--” 

“Who?” He sneers. 

“Sir?” 

“Who has done this to you?” 

“I cannot--” 

“I should know.” 

“No, please, I wouldn’t-- it would be my ruin--” 

“No, it would be his and you protect him still, so tell me.” 

“No, no I will not. That I cannot tell you, sir. To say it would defeat me completely.” 

He sighs into a snarls and lowers his chin. He sounds like a simmering bull, readying for the charge. You tug on your hand but he will not release you. You relent and let him cling to you. 

Silence, suffocating and still.  

“My brother was an orphan. We took him in when he was young. He is a duke, same as me, now,” he declares as he squares his posture. “You wouldn’t know the difference. And I won’t. Not between this child and our next.” 

“Sir, surely--” 

“We are to have a child,” he says, “that is happy news and I thank you for bringing me here to hear it.” He pets your hand and leans his arm against yours. He brings your fingers up to your mouth and kisses them, “one day, I will know who the culprit is and on that, I will surely split his skull. Not for his bastard, for that child has no sin, but for your honour, lady. For my wife’s honour.” 

💟

Cora’s wedding to Lord Rogers culminates in a grand luncheon. The bride is a beautiful mist of tears as she accepts the well wishes of her guests. She basks in the attention as you gladly languish in the shadows. 

Despite Lord Odinson’s unexpected and reassuring reaction, you’re still uncertain. You don’t know if he’s keeping a good face on until he knows how to act, perhaps renegs his grace, or if you might come to pay for your discretion later in your union. You’re prepared to meet your atonement, however it comes. 

As you sit for the meal, the chair beside you is claimed almost at once. Your betrothed has appeared throughout the event but you’ve hardly been at his side. Each time you see him, his eyes skim the crowd as if he can see right through every one of them. Yet, when he looks at you, you feel only warmth. You don’t understand how he can look at you as such. 

“How do you fare, today, my valkyrie?” He asks as he straightens his cravat, “you look well.” 

“Good, I think.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he raises his glass for a servant to fill it with sherry. You opt for lemon water, as much as your tumultuous stomach can handle. 

“I thought we might have our own reception at Nine Pillars,” he suggests. 

“I would like that,” you agree, your eyes drifting beyond him, to your father’s gardens, where... “whatever you may offer, I will be grateful for.” 

“Mighty valkyrie, full of grace,” he praises and reaches for a platter, “ooh, they have some sweet ham here with pineapple.” 

He takes a helping and puts it on your plate. You smell the tangy fruit and the underline savoury waft of the meat. You lurch and grasp the edge of the table. You give a panicked look to Odinson as he peers down at the food. He switches your plates out swiftly. 

“Tell me, what are you in the mind for then?” He leans in so his arm touches yours as you sip from the lemon water to quell your stomach. “Valkyrie, give me your command and I will obey.” 

You give him a coy grin, “you can be so silly.” 

“Silly. Mad. All for love,” he assures you.  

“Is their anything dry?” You ask, “bread, perhaps.” 

“Sourdough,” he reaches to take the basket as others help themselves to the spread. 

“I’ll have some of that.” 

“With marmalade?” He offers.  

“No,” your face pinches at the thought, “no, bread will do.” 

You blink and shake of another tide of sickness. As you do, your eyes meet another pair further down the table, amid the rabble of voices. Lord Rogers tilts his head as Cora tugs on his sleeve and giggles up at the couple behind them. He hardly seems to notice as he stares you down. 

You go rigid and quickly look away. You touch Odinson’s arm to keep from panicking. He looks at you, then down the table. He doesn’t say anything, merely carves off a chunk of bread for you. 

You pick away at the hard crust and the dry spongey inside. You take small bites, cautious of upsetting your volatile stomach. The afternoon wears on, course after course, and you avoid those dishes which threaten to overthrow your restraint. 

At last, the cake is serves, a tiered sponge with cream and fruit and candied sugar spun in a facsimile fountain atop it. It’s splended and beautiful. The couple are served first as they smiles in delight. The doling out of servings takes some time as guests wait patiently for their turn and the cake is pushed on a cart from chair to chair. 

When it comes your turn, your name rises over the crowd. You sit up and glance over, relieved at least not to watch the layers of custard and cake hit your plate. Lord Rogers has his hand on the back of his wife’s chair. 

“And how do you like the dessert? I believe you’ve been saving space for it all day, eh?” He chirps. 

You angle your head in confusion. You look down then at Odinson who sits a little taller as he leans forward. 

“You’ve hardly indulged, so I hope you might show your support and delight in this delectable dessert,” Rogers taunts. “A wedding is no place for a sour face.” 

Your lips part. You’re stunned. How could he be so bold as to call you out? Among all his guests and he must torment you. Was one night not enough. Your whole life as his violation thrives within your womb. Lord Odinson subtly touches your elbows. 

“I am most happy for you and my sister,” you rebuff, “and you are correct, I’ve been in much anticipation for dessert.” 

You take your fork and scoop up a heaping mouthful. You smile at it even as your insides rage. You make yourself taste it. It’s so sweet and smooth and wonderful, but your stomach mulches as if it is rubbish. Your cheeks tremble and you swallow, nearly gagging. 

“To you, sir, and my sister, Cora, I wish a happy marriage,” you force out as you hide your mouth behind a handkerchief. 

“To the happy couple,” Lord Odinson raises his glass and the table erupts, at once, the attention shifted back to them. 

You brace his arm and squeeze. You fight but you cannot withhold the uproar within. You stand and rush away, frantically searching for somewhere to hide and spew your guts. 

💟

The days overcome your doubts. The weeks come with more affectations; your sickness ebbs and flows and the temperature feels at times hotter then colder, swaying back forth, while some moments you spend with a throbbing head and pulsing feet. The most obvious symptom of your condition is the tightness of your stay. Soon, you will be showing more than you like, but for now, loosened laces can ease your discomfort. 

Your wedding day fast approaches. Time does seem to defy any human whim. You wish it would slow so you could catch your breath. Much like your husband-to-be who has yet to falter in his affections. 

You sit before the mirror with the grown of silver petals in your lap. There is one still bent from Cora’s envy but you will keep it to the back of your head. You will wear it as proudly as that night Lord Odinson gifted it to you. You hope for the day you might both forget all else. 

If it is to be. If he is at the altar waiting still. 

Albina and Hannah take the crown from you and secure it among your styled locks. Albina smiles at your reflection as Hannah jabs you with a pin. You nervously wring your hands as you admire the lavender shade of your gown. You wish you’d had more of it, that you hadn’t needed to trim it in ivory to make up for your height. Still, it is beautiful and the nicest dress you’ve ever worn. 

“Are you nervous?” Albina asks. 

“Suppose,” you admit and lift your chin, “very, truly.” Though not for the reason she might think. 

“Lord Odinson is kind. He should be gentle,” Hannah says. 

Your cheeks tinge at her suggestion, “sister.” 

“Well, it is what we are all thinking, isn’t it?” She shrugs. 

“I hope I do not find a husband so soon,” Albina adds, “I would like to enjoy my books a little longer.” 

“You might take on the spinster’s mantel then,” Hannah snipes. 

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” you murmur. “Every woman must do it. Eventually. It cannot be so horrible.” 

You lower your head again, trying to hide the emotion battling in your chest. It was bad, that first time. Lord Rogers hadn’t been kind at all. Would Lord Odinson be any different? For Rogers seemed kind at first glance only to be cruel upon touch. 

What if you husband did not want to meet his duty? What if he could not knowing you had lain with another? You would not blame him and without consummation, he might still turn you away. 

“Cora said it was more painful than anything she’s ever felt,” Hannah undercuts your dread. “Though she still loves her husband well.” 

“You shouldn’t speak of that,” you gird. 

“Why not? Won’t you tell us how it is so we may be ready?” She challenges. 

“I... I... It’s rather strange to speak of it.” 

“You are strange,” Hannah retorts with a huff. 

“But pretty,” Albina chimes, “look at you, sissie. You truly look like a queen in that crown.” 

You meet the gaze of your reflection. You do look better than you ever have before. You wonder if they notice the new fullness in your cheeks. If they do, they don’t mention it. You take a deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer,” you stand.  

If you wait any longer, you might lose your nerve. 

The bishop waits in the grand hall of Nine Pillars as you emerge from the rooms allotted for your preparations. The crowd stands among the columns and hushes as you appear at the end of the hall. You face the clergy man and for an instant, your heart dangles precariously, ready to plummet.  

Where is Lord Odinson? 

His golden head pops up beside the bishop and he fixes the flower tucked into his lapel. His long blond hair is draw back as a scarlet bow holds it back, its ears peeking out behind his nape. He is smiling as he pauses and his eyes meet yours across the space. 

You can see even from there how his features slacken and for a moment, you are breathless. He looks as stricken. You put one foot down and let your long legs carry you. 

All your doubts float away. The faces around you haze together and the world crumbles to dust. It's only you and that man.  

💟

The ceremony gives way to a soiree, bodies clustered together, partners dancing, and you among them. Your husband, a husband, has your hand in his as he leads you in the steps. This man, this wonderful forgiving man you vowed yourself too nearly sweeps you off your feet, a sensation you've never known before. 

Your cheer blooms from you as his cheeks flush in his excess. He barely pauses to receive kind words from his guest. His elation is contagious. It gives no way to your fears. 

"Do you know what I thought upon the altar, beautiful valkyrie," he purrs, "I nearly fell upon my knees even." 

"What?" You smile, glowing up at him. 

"That the gods did bless me. That you must be sent from them, a gift to me, mere mortal." 

You can't help but pat his chest, "you flatter." 

"You are too modest," he guides you along, "you are a statue come too life, art in the flesh." 

"My husband... you words are too sweet." 

"I know, I know, the wedding night is still ahead of us, I do run too fast," he chuckles, "but how can I help the anticipation? 

Your lashes flick and giggle, "husband." 

"That word has never sounded sweeter," he grins, "but a sweeter noise might be my own name. Say it for me, valkyrie." 

Your cheeks burn hot, "Thor?" 

"Delicious," he growls nearly baring his teeth, "and I shall savour every sound you make. Every moan and mewl. Every breath and laugh. Just as every part of you." 

It's too good to be true. You deign to let yourself feel it all but you must. If even only for tonight. If only for the next moment. You will have a morsel of happiness if it's all you have to chew on for the rest of your life. 

💟

The night wears on and so do you. Your feet ache, as does most of you, and your voice is raw from laughing and talking. It is the first that you ever spent an event not along the wall or hiding in some shadow. It is a night all your own, or so your husband has made it feel. 

Yet, he does not tire. Not as quickly. As he booms and bawls to the amusement of all, you cling to his arm and repress a yawn. You will not spoil his fun, you will persist. 

Still, you cannot ignore all urges of your humanity. You press a hand to his sleeve and excuse yourself, promising to return. Your husband pauses to bid you not be long and you're further abashed at his attention. 

You flit off to find the privy. You've been several times over the day. Your bladder swells no matter how little you drink. As you progress, you find your body is contradictory to your mind. 

You venture down the corridor and sweep into the room. Once relieved, you emerge feeling lighter but no less tired. The silent desolation of the corridor rather makes your exhaustion all the more potent. 

You turn towards the statue of a warrior, you recognise it, it is the means by which you've found your way. Before you can pass it, a figure appears from behind it and you falter in your slippers. 

You gasp and ball your hands, the man before you sending a ripple of horror through you as he smirks at your surprise. Lord Rogers' cheek dimples as he quorks his head like a cynical crow. 

"You are ever a creature of urges," he muses, "fluttering back and forth as a skittish bird." 

"My lord, I... what is the meaning--" 

"I'm afraid we've not had much of a chance to speak, have we? The blushing bride is much a titter," he chortles, "she has the gull to giggle like a maiden, even." 

"Lord Rogers," you utter, appalled. 

"But the sway of her hips do betray her true nature. That which is within her," he sneers, "as does the curdling of her face over any dish that tickles her nose." 

"Sir, I know not what you mean--" 

"I should laugh truly, to know that another will raise my bastard," he taunts, "that it is him, does entertain me more." He takes a step forward and you back, "so you will be certain to lay with him this night so he may believe he has vigour." He grabs your arms before you can elude him, "you will think of me, won't you, Athena, my fallen goddess? Of how I desecrated your--" 

Suddenly, you are staggered. Lord Rogers is swung backward and flung into the statue. There's a roar, tha same noise you would expect of a charging bear, and the flash of scarlet. You watch paralysed as Thor grabs Lord Rogers by his jacket and spins him, throwing him into the other wall. 

The smaller of the men, though they are both built well, slides to one knee, his hand on the plaster. The other is quick, wasting not a second before aims a foot into Rogers' stomach. The duke falls backward and is at once straddled beneath the larger. 

Thor lays blows upon the other man, hailing down on him like the tempest he claims himself. Your fear overflows and you push through the thick waves. You come forward numbly and pull your husband by the back of his collar.  

"Please sir, unhand him." 

"You would defend this animal!" He wails down another fist and growls. 

"No, no, I would not spare him but I would... I would have my husband not take me to my wedding night with bloodied knuckles. Thor," you pet the back of his head, "let this be a happy day. Please." 

He sits back on his heels and puffs out. He looks back at you as you step away. You put your hand to your middle.  

"Husband?" 

He snarls and spits on Lord Rogers, standing with a huff. You reach for his hand and he takes it. He squeezes as he sends one last kick of his toe to the man on the floor. 

"Let me save my strength for you, wife. I certainly would need it." 

#thor #steve rogers #thor x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #guileless #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #au #regency au

[imsilay]

MANIA

obsessive love; very possessive and often jealous.

mdni NSFW! +18 cw: possessiveness, size k!nk, fem!reader, obsessive König, dominant König.

summary: König doesn’t wants you to leave him, even for a second. he finds excuses and makes it your problem so he could fuck you until you’re too sore to leave again.

i will post part 2 <3 (english isn’t my first language sorry for the mistakes) edit: posted! here

art cr: @kinky-thirsty-reader

He doesn’t like when you try to leave him…

After a long night, you were exhausted, your body sore from head to toe. You tried to sit up and leave the bed, but suddenly König's arm snaked around your waist and held you down. "Where do you think you're going, Prinzessin?" he whispered. "I need to shower." you mumbled as you put your hands on his forearms and tried to push him away, but it was a pathetic attempt. You were so powerless compared to him.

“So klein~” he cooed.

He chuckled at your struggles. "I don't think so, Schatz. You're staying here, in my bed, where you belong…" he purred, kissing the back of your neck and pulling you even closer, pressing your back against his chest. "König, stop the nonsense. Let go of me, i really need to shower." you protested— you wish you didn’t. His arms tightened around your midsection, reminding you that he could snap your spine effortlessly. "Are you talking back, Prinzessin? Did you forget you’re mine?" he whispered, his tone now edged with discontent. His grip was far from loving anymore. “Do i need to remind you?” he hissed, he would fuck you dumb until you understand that you’re his. His to use for his own satisfaction, his to kiss whenever he decided to do, his to touch wherever he wants. You were simply his.

When you realized you were in trouble, chills ran down your spine. You quickly apologized. "No, I was just... I don't like being sweaty. I'm sorry." Your apology made him loosen his grip a little. He placed a tender kiss on your neck. He turned you around as if you weighed nothing and pressed you against his chest.

“Hmm... let's see," his voice teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard and had you straddle him. He lowered his hands from your waist to your thighs and gently caressed them. You let out a groan of relief and wrapped your arms around his neck, savoring the sensation of your lover's massage on your sore muscles. However, your relief was short-lived because he wasn't finished with you yet. "You tried to escape my bed. So you need to be punished, Hase." He squeezed your thighs until the pain in your sore muscles became almost unbearable.

You cried and whined but he shushed you softly, soothing you. “We’re not done, Liebling.” It was clear that his tone had changed again. The anger and firmness had given way to something more gentle, almost loving.

You slurred something for forgiveness and apologize nonstop. “Don't be sorry, Hase. I didn't like seeing you try to escape from me." he said with a hint of a pout. "But I think i can make a exception for you this time. What about you let me…" his rough hands slowly caressed your inner thighs making you shiver and gasp in anticipation. “use you as i please, then maybe i could let you rest.” he murmured as his hand found its way to your already wet panties. Your breath hitched and you squirmed on his lap as he teased your cunt through your panties until you’re soaked for him.

“You’re so easy to seduce, Schatz.” he chuckled lightly but his voice stained with pure lust. He lifted your chin up with his free hand to take a look at your lovely face. Your eyes red, your skin flush from all the crying and stimulation. It was all for him… right?

“Immer so empfindlich, wenn ich so mit dir spiele.” (Always so sensitive when I play with you like this.) he mumbled in German like he always did. You never understand what he said -mind foggy with lust and too focused to chase that sweet release.

He grinned with a proud expression and mumbled to himself. “Braves Mädchen.” he whispered before lifting his balaclava up just enough to capture your lips in a long passionate kiss.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked it <3

a/n: also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

#könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #konig smut #konig x y/n #i know it’s könig #könig x y/n #könig smut #obsessed könig #könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #könig #silay

[chlorinecake]

imagine taking care of riki while he’s sick and he can’t resist the urge to give you kissies all over bc he’s so inluv with you :(

[Vitamin C]uddles —⊹ N.RK (西村力) 🛏️

Pairing… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sick boyfriend!niki x gf!reader

Warnings… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ kissing, lots of teasing, fluff

Words… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 521 -> “I’ll take care of you. Duh.”

Despite his usually intimidating appearance, Niki was a huge baby on the inside, and those attributes were only amplified whenever he wasn’t feeling well.

The poor boy had been sick ever since he got back from traveling, so you took it upon yourself to care for him until he got better.

“Hey, this needs more soy sauce… I can hardly taste it,” Niki whined, taking a dissatisfied sip from the chicken soup you ordered.

“Niki, there’s already so much in here that the broth turned brown. Now eat up before it gets cold,” you said, placing a napkin on the table tray beside him.

“I will, but only if you stay with me this time.”

You turned your head at his words, “Aww, d’you miss me?”

“No, I’ve been in bed all day and I’m just bored.”

“Riigght,” you said, spoon feeding him a glob of the grape flavored medicine.

He made a weird face, trying to get over the bitter taste of the cough syrup, “My God, that tastes like poison!”

You giggled at your boyfriends words, climbing in bed next to him with a large plate of assorted sushi rolls, “Try some with wasabi, too! It might help unclog your sinuses.”

Using the chopsticks, you dipped a sushi roll into the chunky green paste, bringing it to his mouth with an airplane motion.

You must’ve put too much, because his eyes immediately started watering as he ate it.

“Do you have any other talents aside from torturing me everyday?” He asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Yup,” you said plainly, escaping his side, “I’m pretty good at leaving sick people to fend for themselves.”

He watched as you walked toward the door, “Byeeee… wait! NOO!! I miss you already!”

“But you just said bye?”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. Come back please!! You forgot to give me vitamin C.”

“Vitamin what?” You asked, turning to face him with your arms crossed.

“Vitamin C… for cuddles,” he clarified, pouting.

“Fine,” you said sharply, “but only if you promise not to say anything else stupid… or mean.”

“Ok, ok, just stop stalling and get over here already!”

You walked back to the bed, lying next to Niki under the covers as he put the sushi platter on the bedside table.

“Wahhh, you’re so warm,” you giggled, your silly boyfriend swinging his leg over your body.

“Okay, now what are you doing?”

“Making a cage for you, my naughty little kitten,” he smiled, poking your nose.

“But I don’t like cages,” you sulked.

“Well then pretend it’s a seatbelt instead,” he chirped.

“Fine…”

“Double FINE! Can I get a kiss now?”

“What? No, what if you get me sick?”

“Then I’ll take care of you. Duh… and before you ask, yes, I promise,” he chuckled, resting his hand on your neck before cradling your face in his hand, leaving feather light kisses all over your face.

“Thank you for not rejecting my heebie-jeebies,” he said in between pecking your cheeks.

“Well when you put it like that, it kinda makes me want to,” you teased, squirming in his warm embrace.

More like this: Kisses with Riki in the dressing room

౨ৎ Thank you for reading this quick little fic, and special thanks to the lovely anon who requested this piece!

౨ৎ Feel free to check out more cute and fun reads like this at the pinned post on my blog :3

౨ৎ Tags: kinda got lazy here but bear with me ~ @squoxle @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @nikisdubblchococake

update 12/03: Thank you all so much for 1,000 likes!!

#enhypen #enhypen niki #enha x reader #ni ki enhypen #nishimura riki #enha niki #niki soft hours #enhypen niki imagines #niki enhypen #niki fluff #niki scenarios #niki x reader #niki imagines #niki x you #nishimura niki #ni ki #ni ki fluff #ni ki imagines #ni ki scenarios #enhypen riki #riki imagines #riki x reader #riki nishimura #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura riki x reader #riki fluff #enha riki #ni ki x reader #enhypen headcanons #niki ff

[rynbutt]

pierced. | spencer reid.

Moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ piercing, fluffyish, reader has pierced tiddies, flirting, wondering if i should do a part 2 fr

a/n: coming from a pierced nipple girly who wants a cute boy to knock on her door. also enjoy <3 and follow >:) also yay for the first thing i've posted :3

You let out an exasperated sigh as you collapsed another cardboard box.

Moving into a new apartment was fun in theory, but the practice of filtering through everything you own and finding a neat little spot for it? not so much. You took a long sip from your now cold cup of coffee before glancing across the room at the looming pile of cardboard boxes that just stood there and mocked you.

You picked up the next box of what was probably clothes and took a box cutter to the almost twenty layers of tape across the seam (it wouldn't stay closed, in retrospect you should have made up another box but you were really determined to make it fit at the time).

You ripped the rest of the tape off and put your hands on your hips, glancing at your cat Tofu on the couch.

"Care to help?" you asked... the cat. Tofu proceeded to curl into herself and begin grooming tubby belly. "I guess not."

There was an abrupt knock on your apartment door, Tofu scattering to the wind at the sudden sound. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why anyone would be knocking on your door.

You had moved here a matter of days ago, knew no one and were far too broke for doordash. You ignored it for a moment, thinking whoever resided on the other side of the door had the wrong apartment. When the knock came again, you thought you'd better answer this time.

You opened the door ajar, just in case it was someone who wanted to steal any of the maybe four things you'd managed to unpack. A tall darker skinned man looked down at you, "Yes?"

"Hi ma'am, I'm Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI," he introduced himself, holding up his credentials for you to peek at. You opened the door the rest of the way, glancing at the second tall man standing in your door way. He had messy hair just below his ears and was wearing a collared shirt with two black pens tucked into the pocket over his chest, he was cute. He pulled his lips into a tight line and held his hand up in a wave.

Spencer's eyes glanced down your body briefly. He has certainly seen some strange outfits when people answer their doors but none that made his skin run hot like this.

You wore a baby blue tank top and grey adidas shorts, he could see a small sliver of skin between your two garments but that's not what caught his eye. You had your nipples pierced.

Now, Spencer really didn't mean to stare but they were right there. The air of your apartment was clearly chilly given how your nipples pressed against the fabric. He could see the little studs on either side of your hardened nipples and he felt like a Victorian boy seeing an ankle for the first time.

"Oh no, you found me," you joked, laughing at yourself lightly. They didn't laugh. Your smile dropped, "I'm joking. Uh, come in, please." You stood aside, letting the two men into your basically bare apartment.

"Just move in?" Morgan asked, looking around your small living room.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm starting a new job in a week," You replied, trying to make small talk. "What exactly are you here for?"

"There was a murder in the apartment across from yours," Dr. Reid said abruptly, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your eyes were blown wide, "What?"

"Young woman like you, stabbed to death-"

"Reid," Morgan warned, shaking his head softly at the younger man.

"Shit, that sucks," you replied, glancing between the two men. "I assume you're talking to me because I live close by, huh?"

"It's just procedure," Morgan replied. "Can you tell me where you were around 11pm last night?"

"Uh, yeah. I was here, I had a lot to unpack, you know?" You replied honestly, wondering how you didn't hear that someone was being murdered across the hall.

"And you didn't hear anything?" Morgan asked, eyebrows furrowed as he stood to face you.

"No, no I honestly didn't. I had my headphones on while I was unpacking, I went to bed around midnight." Were you incriminating yourself? Maybe you should make some friends so you don't get caught up in this kind of stuff.

"The UnSub we're looking for is white male, mid 20s to 30s, seems out of place. Have you seen anyone like that around?" Dr. Reid asked.

"No, I mean, I just moved here, I don't know anyone. I haven't left my apartment since I got here," you replied, looking Dr. Reid in the eye. You caught him glancing down at your boobs for a moment before he caught himself, clearing his throat.

It was only then that you realised what you were wearing. Fuck. Two FBI agents, one of whom was your type to a T came to question you about a murder and your nipples were gazing upon the world like a deer in headlights.

You quickly crossed your arms across your chest before scampering across the room to grab your hoodie off your couch. You pulled it over your head before staring at the two men awkwardly, your skin feeling hot.

"I'm sorry about... my attire, I didn't even-"

Morgan smiled, chucking softly, "Please, this is your home, sweetheart." Morgan glanced at Spencer, who suddenly found the ceiling utterly fascinating. "You mind if I have a look around? We suspect he used the fire escape."

"Of course, yeah. You can see it from the bedroom," you replied, being left alone with the cute doctor. "You seem young to be a doctor," you said softly, trying to make small talk.

"Scarring, tearing and nerve damage is possible when you get your," he coughed, "nipples pierced... infections and bleeding are also common," he quickly said, lips pulled into a tight line.

"Mm, cute and smart... well, I've had them for five years so... I think I'm safe, Dr. Reid," you replied with a chuckle.

"Spencer," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Spencer, it's my name. Spencer Reid," he said, hands clutched tightly around the strap of his leather satchel.

"Spencer," you smiled, "I'm Y/N."

"Well, we better get out of your hair," Morgan returned from your room, glancing between you and Spencer for a moment. "Let's go, Reid."

You opened the door for them, Morgan thanked you as he left and started down the hall to the elevator. Spencer paused for a moment, glancing at you for briefly before walking out the door.

"Hey," you called softly. Spencer spun around to look at you and you definitely couldn't let him escape without your number. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Uh, girlfriend? I, uhm-"

"He doesn't!" Morgan called from down the hall, making you smile.

"You don't know that!" Spencer retorted, making a face at Morgan who was grinning.

"So... you do?" You asked.

"...No, I don't." He muttered.

"Okay, well," you laughed, plucking the pen from the pocket of Spencer's shirt. "Call me sometime," you scribbled your name and number with a little heart onto a scrap piece of paper that once wrapped your toaster.

"Yes... Okay, I will," he replied nervously, holding your number in his hands gently. He glanced at it, a smile beaming across his handsome face.

"You, uh, might wanna go before your partner loses it," you giggled after a beat. Spencer muttered a quick 'oh' before walking quickly toward the elevators.

"Bye," Spencer said softly, waving at you with a little smile.

"Bye, Dr. Reid!"

Spencer stepped into the elevator with Morgan, the silence palpable in the tiny mental container.

"'Bye, Dr. Reid~'," Morgan raised his voice an octave, planning to tease Spencer relentlessly and text the group chat as soon as they got to the car.

"Shut up!"

reblog and follow me :3 also come chat, i love to yap.

dividers by @cafekitsune

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #spencer reid #fluff #spencer reid fluff #x reader #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #spencer fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #reid #criminal minds spencer

[moremaybank]

in between 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ 𐦍

pairing bestfriend!jj maybank x fem!reader

summary best friends since the first grade, it was only inevitable that you and jj would fall for each other. however, when a single night suddenly changes things between you, you’re both left wondering if you ever should’ve tried to cross the line at all. [11.8k]

warnings 18+, unprotected sex (sorry, but what else is new?), dry humping, oral (m. receiving), daddy kink, pet names (pretty girl, princess, etc.), dirty talk, body-shaming (not by jj), reader's parents being shitty, drunk jj causing a scene at a party, childhood best friends to lovers, a love confession, i think that's it???

author's note i really hope you guys like this one! kinda nervous bc i haven't posted a full fic in awhile, but i think i'm happy with it. ik it's long, but i think it's worth it! also, enjoy the logan huntzberger (gilmore girls) cameo LOL

in between universe | jj masterlist | playlist | kofi

Amid the raging storm outside, a series of frantic knocks on your front door echoed through your house. You rushed to the door, swinging it open to reveal a drenched and dishevelled JJ Maybank. 

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed in panic, yanking him inside. Your hands quickly found his face, and then his shoulders as your eyes scanned his body for any signs of injury. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

“Hello to you, too,” he greeted, smiling down at you. He couldn’t deny the stroke his ego got, nor the fluttering in his stomach he felt when you worried for him. “I’m fine, by the way. Jus’ a tad cold.” 

JJ hoped you’d take the hint and pull him into your arms — the place he always longed to be — but was caught off guard when your hand slapped his chest. “Hey!” 

“What if you catch pneumonia?!”

“I’m fine, Y/N/N.”

“Fine? You could’ve gotten killed!” 

“By what? The gentle breeze outside?” That earns him another slap. “Ow!”

“Don’t smart-mouth me, Maybank.” 

“You love my smart mouth,” he teases, pinching your cheek playfully. 

Once again, his hopes were wrong, because while he was praying for a glimpse of that smile that made his knees weak, your hand came flying at him for a third time. Luckily for him, he was quick, catching your wrist and pulling you to stand right in front of him. 

“You’re gonna wanna be real careful about what you do next, princess.” Powerful blue eyes locked with yours and you knew that he’d won. “Gotta say, this is not the welcome I was expecting. Kinda hoped I’d get a kiss or somethin’.” 

Your heart sang at his comment, but you remained focused on the outside, keeping your face straight. 

“For what? Being an idiot?”

Then, he gave you the face. 

Pouty, and adorable, and JJ, and just like he had planned, you started to fold. 

You couldn’t stay mad at him if you tried. 

Even if he helped. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried. You aren’t invincible, you know.” 

He visibly softened at your words, as if he wasn’t soft on you before, and he released your wrist. But he didn’t give your hand back to you. Instead, he kept it with him, mindlessly playing with your fingers so he wouldn’t have to give up the physical contact.

“C’mon. You really think I’m gonna let anythin’ stop me from annoying you for the rest of your life? Not a chance, baby.” 

Baby. Uh oh. Your resolve was beginning to waver. 

“‘N the reason I came is ‘cause I didn’t want my pretty girl alone in this mess,” he murmured, and you detected some shyness in his voice. “Besides, when have we ever spent a storm night apart?” 

Aaand it was gone. 

Vanished. 

He always knew how to get you. Then again, you always let him. 

You tilted your head, fighting a smile and losing miserably when it broke free. “Alright. I guess you’re sweet. Even if you’re an idiot.” 

“There’s my girl,” he grinned. “Now gimme a hug. I’m cold.” He tried to reach out for you, but you backed away, putting more distance between you two.

“No way, you’re soaked,” you laughed, now extremely grateful for the cozy pjs you were sporting.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re really not gonna hug me?” He picked up an old-timey accent when he spoke next, “I ventured through the brave storm to see you, m’lady. The least you could do is offer me a warm embrace.” 

He was so animated with it that it was damn near impossible not to giggle. “My sincerest apologies, sir. You seem to be out of luck.” 

“Alright, that’s it.” 

Before you knew it, JJ lunged at you. You let out a squeal, running as fast as you could with your socks slipping against the marble tiles. 

It took a little bit of time, and you’d covered a lot of area in the house by the time he finally captured you. Strong, brawny arms wrapped around your frame and picked you up right off the ground. He spun you around in the air a few times, relishing in the sun-soaked laughter that escaped you before putting you down. 

You turned around in his grip, looking incredibly earnest when your hands came to rest on his arms. “Thanks for coming to save me. Not that I needed it.” 

He smiled warmly at your statement. “I’ll always come ‘n save you,” he said, capturing your chin between his fingers. His thumb stroked over your chin softly. “You’re my Y/N/N. Nothin’s more important than you.” 

You found yourself stuck in an intense stare with him yet again, your heart thumping loudly at his sincerity and gooey sweetness. 

“Come on. You need to shower before you get sick.” 

You grabbed his hand, but he came willingly with a lovestruck look you couldn’t see. 

“Yes, ma'am.” 

—

After shoving JJ into the shower and practically pouring a hot cup of tea down his throat to ensure he was warm from the inside out, the two of you found solace in your cozy and — in JJ’s words — kooky bed with your backs against the pillows and headboard. 

“Make fun all you want but you and I both know I have to drag you out of here kicking ‘n screaming every time you sleepover.” 

“…Shut up.”

Despite his words, JJ huddled closer to you under the plush covers. The wind howled outside, alongside the occasional rumble of thunder. If it weren’t for the light casting around the room from your TV, and the entirely hilarious sitcom How I Met Your Mother playing in the background, the ambience would’ve made the room feel eerie.

“So,” JJ began, breaking the silence, “you heard from your parents lately? Thought they were supposed to come back this week?” 

Ah, yes. Your parents. 

From a young age, you’d learned not to expect much from the people who had brought you into the world.

The minute they realized they could, they’d handed you off to a nanny and threw themselves back into the lives they’d lived before you had arrived. Your mom went heavy on the scotch and retail therapy, and your dad had re-immersed himself in his work. When he wasn’t doing that, he was squandering his free time away at the country club, playing golf and consuming copious amounts of alcohol alongside your mother.

Anything to get out of the house, and, evidently, away from you. 

The older you grew, the less you saw of them as they travelled the world for business. By the time you were fifteen, you’d pretty much been living in that enormous mansion all by yourself for ten months out of the year. 

Sometimes, even more. 

Not that you’d ever voice your complaints to them. You knew they wouldn’t hear you. They’d simply spew out something along the lines of ‘Sweetheart, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life. if you had, you’d understand that we can’t be there for every silly little dance recital or graduation.’ 

And yes, that included your high school graduation. 

When they did spend time with you, that time would be filled with snarky comments about your appearance and about your sympathy for the pogues. Nothing about you ever seemed to satisfy them.

But somehow, amid the loneliness and abandonment you’d been able to comprehend from far too young of an age, you’d found and held onto the one person who made it all melt away. 

JJ. 

It was the first day of second grade, and all the children in your class were colouring. All of them except for the little blonde boy who sat across the room, by himself, with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, but nothing to colour with. You were only six at the time, but you could sense that he was alone too. And your heart hurt for him because it hurt the same way for you. 

So, you got up from your seat, grabbed your paper and your sixty-four pack of crayons (the pack that every child dreamt of having) and trotted off to his table. You perched yourself in the chair beside his and offered to share your crayons with him. 

At first, he just stared at you. You thought that maybe he didn’t want you there, but then, you saw the tiniest glimpse of his dimple when he gave you a small smile, nodding. 

“Thanks.” 

And now, a decade and a half later, you were just as inseparable as you had been since that very first day. 

Your house was now considered a home, had been since the moment JJ first stepped onto the marble flooring with his boyishly muddy shoes. He filled the aching silence with laughter and excitement and finally, finally, some cherishable memories. 

Like how he’d helped you climb your first tree, and carried you on his back into your house after you’d scraped your knee while doing so. Camping in your backyard and sprinting inside once non-forecasted rain came pouring down on your flimsy little kiddy tent. He’d accidentally stolen your first kiss (and he’d never admit it, but he was and still is overjoyed to have done so). Movie nights where he’d let you pick the film and sit happily while you pushed his hair back and applied a face mask to his tanned skin. 

Anything you wished for, JJ would give it to you without a second thought. Any time you needed him, he’d drop everything to run over to you. He was loyal, sweet, hilarious, thoughtful, and though he was good at hiding it from the light, his heart was pure gold. 

But what had mattered most to you was that in a world where everyone close to you had chosen to leave, he was the one who had stayed. 

Without him, there was noise. 

With him? Quiet. 

Peaceful, and calm, and quiet. 

No one turned your world like him. And that made it that much more inevitable to fall for him. 

The feeling of JJ’s finger tapping against your temple broke you out of your daze. “Hey. You in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied. “My mom called me a couple days ago to tell me they cancelled their flight. They’re coming back on Monday instead.” 

“So, basically, what I’m hearin’ is that they just didn’t wanna be stuck in the house with you all weekend.” 

“Precisely.” 

You mocked your mother’s voice when you spoke next. “You know I can only take that sorry little island in small doses. Besides, if we come home now, we’ll be holed up in the house during that storm. Why on earth would I trade my penthouse view for that?”

JJ gave you a sad look, obviously upset for you. It wasn’t like he expected much from them either, but he knew that deep down, even if you refused to admit it, it stung. 

They really couldn’t spend one weekend with you? Being with their daughter is that much of a hardship for them? 

“Stop. It’s fine.” And you meant it. These kinds of stunts were nothing new to you. You didn’t think they were gonna race home to you to make sure you were okay. A quick text would suit them just as well. 

“Don’t do that,” he stopped you. “You’re allowed to be upset. Your parents are assholes.” 

Assholes that were so far past unaware of the remarkable person they’d given life to. It shook him to his core, the realization that someone so beautiful both inside and out had come from two cold and selfish people. 

But if they would never appreciate you, who cared, because JJ knew he always would. 

He’d never let a single moment pass without telling you how special you were. How much you’d helped him, given him a safe haven and shoulder to cry on when he needed it. 

Given him peace. 

And, if he ever worked up the damn courage…he’d spend every minute of the rest of his life telling you how much he loved you. 

You just shrugged in response. “It is what it is. I’m luckier than most.” 

He frowned at that. It’d always hurt him to watch you belittle your problems just because you were better off financially. It was almost as if you were numb.

“Well, at least they’ll be here for your birthday. That’s somethin’.” 

“Nah, they’re flying back to New York on Friday.” 

“Are you serious?” He asked, sitting up straight now. “They couldn’t wait one day?” 

“You know how they feel about birthdays, J.” 

That was true. JJ had heard them give you the ‘Why should you be rewarded for being born? That isn’t an achievement,’ talk countless times over the years. They’d just stick a wad of cash into your nanny’s hand and tell her to take you out to the mall as if their missing your birthday would be fixed with a shopping spree. 

As if it would erase the resentment you knew they felt toward you. 

“That doesn’t make it right,” he said, growing frustrated. “Y/N/N, it, like, sickens me to keep watchin’ ‘em treat you like this. You gotta say something.” 

“Like what, J? They’d never listen. Just drop it.” 

He deflated a bit, leaning back into his original position. “Look, ‘m sorry, okay? I just…I don’t get it. You’re amazin’, you’re— you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know how they don’t feel the same.” 

Damn it. There he went again, making it impossible for you to be in a sour mood. 

Gingerly, you turned to him, sitting with your legs criss-crossed. “You’re the only one keeping me going, y’know that? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

He sat up once more and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against the apple of it as he looked deep into your eyes. It felt like he was staring into your soul. 

“I promise you’ll never have to find out.” He looked down then, biting his lip slightly before meeting your gaze again. “I put that on my life.”

The rest of the world faded away while the two of you stayed in that moment, frozen in time as if you were a scene captured in a snow globe. 

It was times like these when you felt yourself start to believe the things Kie was always telling you. 

“I’m just saying, like, how do you not see it?” 

She’d been up your ass ever since the boys had split up from you two and left The Wreck. Kie was working at the counter, filling up drinks and cashing out takeout orders. 

Oh, and pestering you about JJ’s so-called affections for you.

“Maybe because I’ve known him since we were six and I know what it looks like when he flirts with other girls,” you remarked.

“Okay, but, like, you’re not just some random girl to him. You’re you.”

You made a face. “I don’t even know what that means.” 

The groan that emitted from her lips was loud enough to catch the attention of countless customers, but she didn’t seem to care.

“You’re impossible,” she said, placing the lids on three soft drinks. “I’ve known JJ almost as long as you have, and in that time, one thing about him has always been crystal-fucking-clear. He’s in love with you. Always has been, always will be.”

“Whatever you say,” you hummed in response, taking a sip of your Coke and pushing away the warm, fuzzy feeling floating through you at the thought of her words being true. 

Meanwhile, JJ was struggling not to act on his desires. 

It was the perfect moment. 

You were quite literally in his hands — or hand, rather — looking as beautiful as ever. He could kiss you. Right now. Plant one on you, a real kiss, unlike that accidental peck he shared with you at the age of twelve. He’d truly get to taste you this time around and silently convey all his love for you. 

And then, fate helped him out. 

The lights flickered and cut out in time with a rumble of thunder, leaving the two of you in complete darkness. 

JJ took it as a sign. 

He leaned forward, and his lips connected with yours. It was soft, tentative at first to see if you’d back off or push him away. To his surprise, your hand snaked up his front, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. He took that as permission and kissed you deeper, his tongue stroking against yours in a dizzying fashion. The action made you moan into his mouth, and he pocketed the sound in his mind, saving it for later when he was alone and was thinking about you. 

And not in an innocent way. 

JJ’s hands found your waist, sliding down to your hips before tugging you closer. You took his invitation and clambered your way onto his lap, your lips never leaving his. 

God, kissing him felt good. Too good. It was nothing like you’d ever imagined. No, it was better. He kissed you like he’d stop breathing if he didn’t. Like the world would burst into flames and end right then and there if he let go of you. 

You didn’t know what was happening, and frankly, in fear of the truth, you had no plans of asking him. If this was the only way you could ever have him, you’d take it without a second thought, consequences be damned. 

You were sure that your decision was nowhere near wise, but there was simply no time for wisdom. 

JJ, your JJ, was kissing you. Kissing you and touching you and giving himself over to you, even if it was only for one night. 

And if doing this was wrong, for once in your life, you didn’t want to be right.

JJ’s hands pulled at the hem of your shirt, and you broke the kiss to let him strip you of it. He tossed it carelessly while his eyes landed on your bare tits. 

“Christ,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cup them both. “These are fuckin’ perfect.” 

His thumbs brushed over your nipples and you shivered. “J.” 

“Shh. I gotchu, baby. Relax for me, yeah? Let me take my time?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed. “But can you take your shirt off? Wanna see you too.” 

He smiled. You were so damn sweet, it would nearly give him a toothache. “Yeah, pretty girl. I can do that.” 

JJ shrugged off his beat-up Heyward’s tee, discarding it on the floor. You ogled at him, at least ninety percent sure that huge red cartoon hearts were projecting from your eyes. 

“You’re droolin’ a bit, there,” JJ teased, thumbing at your lip. 

Heat crept up into your face at his comment. “Shut up.” 

On the inside, he loved the way you were looking at him. You handled him delicately, hands cradling his face as if he were an intricate piece of artwork that you wanted to study and commit to memory. 

Every line, every slope, every curve.  

Every last stunning piece of him.

“You’re so beautiful, J.” 

JJ had been loved by you since elementary school. Sure, it was in a best friend's way, but being loved by you had changed his world. Now, with the way you were looking at him, the way you were speaking to him, the way you were touching him…he couldn’t help but imagine that this was what it’d be like to really be with you. 

He turned bashful, his heart still fluttering at your words. “‘M supposed to be sayin’ that to you. Look at you.” 

“Stop that,” you said, looking him right in the eyes. “You deserve to be loved on. Let yourself have this. Let yourself feel loved, J.” 

Those words echoed in his mind. JJ never felt like he deserved anything good, so he always pushed those opportunities away. Ruined them and made them inaccessible. But with you in his arms, pleading with him to let you show him that he was worthy, he started to believe that maybe he did deserve something positive. 

And if it were coming from you? Well, he’d take it without question.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He wanted to kiss you until his lips were sore, and even then, he wouldn’t stop. 

With greedy hands, the both of you touched every sliver of skin you could find, your lips never leaving the others for a second. Your hands found their way to JJ’s unruly golden locks, fingers carding through them so you could tug on them a little. A deep rumble of satisfaction came from JJ’s throat, and the noise had been so heavenly that your hips started to roll against his on their own accord. 

The friction was toe-curling, so addicting that you couldn’t stop rutting against him even if you wanted to. He was hard as a rock, and big. So big. You didn’t even need him to get naked to know you were right. 

“F-Fuck,” JJ stammered against your lips, though his hands didn’t stop helping your hips move. “Keep goin’ ‘n I’ll cum before I’m even inside you.” 

“But you feel so good,” you whined. Your brows were pulled together and your jaw was slack, the stimulation already getting you close. “Oh my god.” 

“Baby—”

“Please, J. I need it. Don’t make me stop. P-Please don’t make me stop.” 

You were right on the edge, and all JJ could focus on were your pretty pleas and the desperation written all over your face. He wanted to watch you explode, wanted to watch you go slack as the pleasure rolled through you. Wanted to hear what you sounded like when you came for him.

So he encouraged you. 

“Go ‘head, pretty girl. Make a mess. Get yourself nice ‘n wet for me.” His lips found your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin to leave his mark. He felt you cling to him as your actions sped up, his cock throbbing as he tried to fight off his high. It almost took everything in him not to give in. “Good girl. You got it.” 

You came loudly, chest heaving up and down as your body twitched and went through the motions of your release. You felt JJ leave more wet kisses across your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, your hand playing with his hair carelessly. 

“That might’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, baby,” he spoke, his hands rubbing up and down your sides. Goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips, and he couldn’t help himself from realizing how responsive your body was for him. 

It’d never been like this with anyone else. No one could compare to you. He didn’t even have to sink into you for confirmation. 

He was fucking done for.

JJ never thought his complete and utter devotion to you could ever run deeper in his veins, but here you were, proving him wrong. 

He was more than fine with that. 

“Fuck me, J. Need you inside me,” you said, hands running over the planes of his chest. Your lip was caught between your teeth, and JJ could tell that you were feeling shy. 

“How could I ever deny you when you’re askin’ me so nicely, huh?” He thumbed at your bottom lip, trying to break it free so he could kiss you again. He did, giving you a deep kiss bubbling over the top with affection. “How do you want it?” 

“Wanna ride you. Can I?” 

Fuck. 

“You can have whatever you want, princess.” 

You grinned, your hands running down the path of his front before finding the button of his pants with ease. You popped it open, unzipping them and tugging his boxers down. His cock sprang out, beautiful and pink and curved. The bead of pre-cum caught your eye, and your mouth watered instantly, dying to know what he tasted like. You dipped your head down, your tongue sticking out and swirling around his tip gently as you coated your tastebuds with him. You were about to dive in for seconds when JJ stopped you. 

“Please don’t, baby. I won’t last.” 

You pouted. “But I wanna suck you off. Don’t you wanna fuck my throat?” 

Christ. Those sinful words sounded nothing but heavenly, and it was hard to resist you. 

“Promise you can later. But right now,” he paused, hands grabbing you and pulling you to straddle his lap again, “I need to feel that pretty pussy.” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

JJ threw his head back with a groan. “You’re really tryna kill me, aren’t you?” 

You simply giggled in response, before circling your hand around his cock. You slid his tip through your folds, from your creamy slit to your clit — and the whimper you let out when you rubbed it over your bundle of nerves almost sent JJ into shock — then back down to your hole again. You started to sink down on him, letting out a hiss when he stretched you wide. Once his tip was inside, JJ swore he started to drool. He was barely inside you and yet your hot, wet walls felt like ecstasy. 

When you sank down all the way, JJ let out a tortured, “Fuckin’ soaked, fuck.” Your walls fluttered subconsciously, and he groaned. “Move for me before I bust. Please.” 

“No cumming yet, J,” you tutted, slowly beginning to bounce on him and giving in to his wishes. He was so big, it was a miracle that you could fit him completely. The intrusion had you feeling so full, but he was hitting every square inch of your cunt and you were on cloud nine. You picked up a good rhythm, earning praise from JJ as you did so.  

“There ya go, baby. Thaaat’s it,” he rasped, leaning back against the headboard to watch you work. His hands cupped your tits as they bounced, feeling your pert nipples rubbing against his palms. “Fuck. Me. Shit.” 

His favourite girl, the star of every single fantasy he’s ever had, was beautifully bare and in his lap, riding the fuck out of his cock. He denied the urge to shut his eyes, no matter how euphoric he felt, ‘cause he didn’t want to miss a single second.

Lost in the pleasure, your hands migrated from his built shoulders to his chest, and you clawed at him. He hissed but ultimately enjoyed the stinging feeling pricking at his skin. 

You could tell because, within a millisecond, his broad arms had enveloped your entire frame and started bucking his hips upward and taking control.

You gasped his name in shock, your own arms instinctively wrapping around him to hold on for dear life. 

“Shh, baby. Let me do the work. You just keep takin’ this cock like a good girl for me, ‘kay?”  

Oh, that mouth. That perfect, filthy mouth. You could’ve died right there if he let you. 

“Y-Yeah.” 

“Yeah, who? What’s my name in here, angel?” 

“D-Daddy.” 

And the cheeky fucker smirked. “Damn fuckin’ straight.” 

He flipped you onto your back, your bare skin hitting the thick comforter. His hands curled around the backs of your knees as he kept you spread wide open for him. His eyes couldn’t help but drift to where you two were connected, watching you swallow his cock whole. 

“Such a good fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “Jus’ keeps gettin’ wetter ‘n tighter f’me.” 

“Yes. Yes. All for you, Daddy. S’all for you,” you called out when he started to fuck you harder. He was animalistic with it, the lust and need for you going into overdrive. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. 

Your excitement only grew when JJ leaned forward, his deliciously carved frame hovering above yours. Thick arms caged you in, and large palms held your head up. His forehead leaned against yours, blue eyes holding yours captive in a hypnotizing fashion.

“Eyes on me, baby. Want your eyes on me when you cum.” 

He knew you were getting there, your cries only increasing in volume as your pussy coated him completely in your slick. Your walls were contracting, tightening around him and threatening to take his breath away.

He also knew that his words would go a long way right now, judging by the way you’d been reacting to them thus far. 

“Tired, aren’t you, baby? Tired of carrying all that weight on your shoulders?” He asked, his breath fanning over your lips as he panted. He littered soft pecks across your cheek when you nodded, an intoxicating juxtaposition from the savoury and harsh pounding he was giving you. “Yeah, I know, babygirl. Always workin’ so damn hard tryna take care of all of us. Jus’ need someone to take care a’you for a change, yeah? Need Daddy to do all the work ‘n make y’feel good? That right?” 

Don’t get him wrong. JJ was a feminist. You’d raised him right. But he always had the crippling need to do whatever he could to make your days lighter, make your life easier. 

And now, apparently, that included fucking the stress out of you until you couldn’t even remember what had caused it in the first place. 

He let out a breathy and proud chuckle when your walls started to clamp down harder on him. He had you right where he wanted you; clinging onto him like a koala and keeping his skin pressed to yours, crying from his gifted hip work, and teetering on the peak of your orgasm. 

“C-Close, J. So close,” you gasped out, chest heaving drastically.

“Let go, baby. Let it all go for me, yeah?” 

One of JJ’s hands snaked down to rub your clit in tight circles, and he watched flames ignite in your eyes at the added stimulation. The wind was knocked out of your lungs when the band deep in your core finally snapped.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he encouraged, continuing to fuck you through your high. His was creeping up on him, and he selfishly started to go harder, faster. “‘M gonna cum. Where d’ya want it, baby? Your tits? Stomach?” 

“M-My mouth. Promised you’d fuck it, remember?” 

He grinned maniacally. The mere thought of fucking his cum down your throat, hearing your gags and watching more of those pretty tears stain your cheeks…nothing sounded better. 

“I never break my promises with you, angel. Y’know that.” He pulled out from you, lifting you into a seated position so he could reach your mouth. You struggled to keep yourself upright, clinging onto JJ’s thighs. You looked up at him, teary-eyed with your tongue out and waiting. “Could fuckin’ cum just from the way you look right now, swear to God.” 

He smacked his length against your hot tongue a few times before sliding in all the way. A shiver rippled through him in delight. “Fuckin’ hell. Where’s this mouth been all my life?” 

He throbbed wildly, twitching when your tongue slithered against the thick vein of his underside. It didn’t take long for him to start thrusting into your mouth, starting off slow but speeding up as his greed skyrocketed. His hands thread through your hair, holding your head in place. Spit was pooling out around him and down your chin, countless tears were escaping from your eyes. Your hair was a mess. But you’d never looked more gorgeous. 

You moaned around him, sending vibrations and little jolts through his entire body when he announced to you that he was close. You released your grip on one of his thighs, cupping and massaging his balls. He fucked deeper and deeper into your throat and soon, you watched him fall over the edge. A string of groans and curses fell from his lips, and he sounded better than anything you’d ever heard. 

Your favourite song of all time was now dethroned by the pornographic sounds emitting from the gorgeous and hypnotizing man in front of you. 

When he withdrew from your mouth and finally caught his breath, all he could do was beam down at you. His fingers scooped up the string of cum that clung to your lips and stuffed themselves into your mouth. You licked every last drop up and savoured it. 

Savoured him.

“‘N just when I thought you couldn’t drive me any crazier.” 

—

The world was different when JJ woke up. 

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and noticed the sun was shining, a nice contrast to the horrible weather from the previous night. He could hear birds chirping and the light breeze of wind flowing against the trees. But what was most different was the fact that you were curled up in his arms, smooth, bare skin pressed against his as you slept. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t cuddled before, but after last night’s escapades, the action just felt so much more intimate. He felt the smile growing on his face as the memories played in his head. He couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten to kiss you, let alone partake in any of the other activities you two did. 

JJ looked down at you, his precious girl, watching your chest heave as you tried to regulate your breathing. You were glowing, your hair a little messy, but it made his heart skip a beat when he thought about how it’d gotten to that point. The ghost of a smile played on your lips while you watched him in wonder. 

JJ leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead and closing his eyes as he did so. “Stay here. Gonna grab a towel so I can clean you up.” 

He started to move, but your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist and tugged. “Don’t go. Can you just…lay with me for a bit?” 

The combination of your sulky doe eyes and still kiss-swollen, pouted lips was all too much. He could never say no to you, but at that moment? You’d never looked more vulnerable, and he just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and shield you from anything that would make you look as sad as you did right now. 

“Yeah, pretty girl,” he assured you, getting situated under the covers and opening his arms wide for you. “C’mere. Not goin’ anywhere.” 

You smiled with a shy nod, instantly slotting yourself into his arms and resting your head on his chest. You nuzzled your cheek against his bare skin, closing your eyes as you let his presence envelope you. 

“You promise?” You asked quietly. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you felt yourself slipping out of consciousness when his fingers danced up and down your back. 

“I promise,” JJ said. His head came to lean atop yours, his cheek smushed against your hair. “Couldn’t leave you if I tried, princess.” 

You started to shift in his hold, a small groan escaping your lips. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he greeted, sweeping some baby hairs away from your face. How you managed to look so effortlessly beautiful all the time was beyond him. Not that he was complaining. “You sleep okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, unable to stop your lips from curling upward. “You?”

“Slept great.” 

You peered up at him, and he was already looking down at you. The minute your eyes met, it was just as last night when the rest of the world went quiet. It was just you and your favourite boy, stuck in a bubble where for once, everything felt right. Where you and JJ felt so happy, that nothing could put a damper on things.

Until your bedroom door swung open, revealing your mother. Once her eyes landed on a shirtless JJ beside you, steam was coming out of her ears. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” 

You sat up and held the sheets to your chest, keeping yourself covered up. “Mom, close the door!”

“Get up, get dressed, and get that pogue out of my house.”

“Always a pleasure, Mrs. Y/L/N.” 

She glared at him and slammed the door shut. You didn’t dare to look at JJ, completely mortified and ashamed of her behaviour. JJ sat up then, watching your teeth sink into your bottom lip the way they always did when you were deep in thought or stressed out. Without a second thought, he reached over, thumbing at your lip until it broke free from your teeth. 

“Stop that. Any harder ‘n you’ll bleed, babe.”

You gave him the tiniest glimpse of a smile. “Sorry.” 

You got up before he could respond, wrapping one of your sheets around your body and making your way to your bedroom door so you could lock it. Behind you, JJ also got up, slipping on his clothes before walking over to where you stood. 

“Hey,” he spoke, nudging your chin upward with his hooked index finger. “You okay?”

You nodded, slowly looking at him. “I’m just sorry about her.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, alright? I don’t care about her, I just wanna make sure you’re good.” 

You nodded again wordlessly. It didn’t put JJ at ease. 

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he told you. “Jus’ say the word ‘n I’ll stay.” 

You wanted to grab him and hold onto him for dear life. He was so sweet, too sweet for his own good. He always thought of you first, put you above everything else. It was nice, having someone do that for you for a change, but you couldn’t be selfish with him. So, you shook your head, looking downward and grabbing both of his hands. Your thumbs swiped over his knuckles as you mustered up the courage to let him go, knowing it was for the better. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” 

It was clear JJ didn’t believe you, but he knew better than to push you when it came to your parents. “You sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

He stayed right where he was for a moment. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave you to deal with the wrath of your mother alone. But he remembered the promise he’d made to himself; that he’d always do what you wished of him. 

He looked down at your joined hands, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. His gaze flitted back up to yours, and he nodded hesitantly. Breaking free from your grasp, he gathered his belongings. He walked over to you again, his hand cradling your face. Tilting your head down slightly, he kissed your forehead in goodbye. 

“I’ll come by ‘n see you later, alright?” 

“Okay,” you said. 

He nodded, letting go of you slowly and walking the few footsteps to your door. But then, he turned around, his hand pausing on the doorknob. “Y/N/N?” His chest fluttered nervously, and he took a deep breath. “There’s, uh, somethin’ I wanna tell you. Somethin’ I needa tell you.” 

You watched him intently, and a sense of anticipation bubbled in your stomach. “What is it, J?”

You grasped his hand gently, and his mouth went dry. You were in such a vulnerable place with your parents showing up out of the blue, and that was not how he wanted things to be when he told you he loved you for the first time. 

“Y’know what? It’s nothin’. Forget it. I’ll see you tonight.” 

With that, he exited your bedroom, leaving both you and himself with heavy hearts. 

—

“Well, well. Look who’s finally decent,” your mother commented when you entered the kitchen fully dressed. 

You chose to ignore her comment. “What are you doing here, Mom? I thought the ferry wasn’t running.” 

“We took the jet and flew to the airstrip. Honestly, Y/N, it’s a miracle you can brush your teeth in the morning.” 

You held back your impending eye-roll.

“Is your little friend gone?” 

“Yes, Mom. JJ’s gone.” 

And you’d never needed him more. 

“Good. I knew that boy made you act like a child but I never thought that you’d throw everything we’ve given you away for someone with no potential and a criminal record.” 

And there it was. 

Any time your parents even thought they caught a glimpse of your blonde best friend, they were quick to pick out all his ‘flaws.’ Right off the bat, even as a child, they’d never respected him due to his pogue status. As if it were his fault, like he’d chosen his life himself. As if he’d chosen to be stuck with a father who’d never shown him love a day in his life. 

As if they had room to talk. 

Because the truth of the matter was, everything parents were supposed to do for their children — support them, comfort them, make them believe that they could be any and everything they wanted to be — wasn’t done by your parents. 

They were done by JJ.

If you hadn’t had JJ, you wouldn’t have known what unconditional love was. 

He was the one who reminded you that you could conquer the world. He’d held you through lonely nights, patched up your cuts and bruises when you were clumsy, helped you study (though he didn’t even study himself), and never failed to remind you that you were adored by him. 

So, when your mother dared to speak on JJ as if she had ever really tried to know him, it boiled your blood. “Where do you get off talking about him like that? He’s done more for me than you and Dad ever have.” 

The fire in your tone made your mother get up from her seat at the table immediately. She downed the contents of her glass — presumably scotch — and nearly slammed the glass on the table. 

“Is that so?” She scoffed. Steam practically shot out of your ears when she looked at you. “So he put you up in this house? He paid for all your foolish little dance lessons and bought you that Benz sitting in the driveway?” 

“That’s not what I—”

“I don’t care what you meant. You paint us out to be the villains in your life when we’ve done nothing but support you and give you everything you’ve ever dared to wish for.” 

“Support me?!Areyou delusional? When have you two ever supported me?”

Financially? Yes. Emotionally? Mentally? Likely story. 

“Don’t start. I’m simply speaking the truth. Now, tomorrow night, I expect you to stop acting like a spoiled brat and drop the attitude.” 

Your brows furrowed. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Last night, your father and I were at dinner with some colleagues, discussing the horrible storm and what it’s done to the southside of the island. They said they’d love to help support the people down there, and so your father came up with the brilliant idea to throw a benefit for The Cut.” 

Your parents wanted to help the pogues of the island? Were you dreaming? 

“It’s wonderful publicity for our company. We’ve been looking for an opportunity like this for weeks.” 

Nevermind. You were wide awake. 

“That being said, your father and I have informed the Huntzbergers that their son would be your date. You remember Logan, don’t you? He asked for you. I can’t fathom why, but what does it matter?” 

You’d met Logan many times over the years, the two of you being dragged by your parents to banquets, dinners, golf games, and so on. He was sweet, with a good sense of humour and a very handsome face if you were being honest. You’d always had the suspicion that he liked you, but obviously, those feelings had never been reciprocated. Not when a certain blonde troublemaker had plucked your heart right out of your chest and never given it back. 

A true kleptomaniac. 

“Mom, I can’t be Logan’s date.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me this is because of the Maybank boy.” Your silence and shifty look were enough to answer her. “Oh, honey. You don’t think that the two of you are together now, do you? He got what he wanted from you. You’ll never be anything more than an easy lay to him.” 

Though the morning had been tumultuous at best, your mind hadn’t even gone there. Not once. In fact, it’d been the opposite. You weren’t foolish enough to believe that JJ would profess his undying love for you, but you certainly didn’t think he’d up and leave now that he’d been with you. 

Would he? 

As the thoughts consumed you, you were once again reminded that every time you’d found an ounce of happiness, your parents were always quick to rip it from your grasp and stomp on it for good measure. 

“So, back to what I was saying. Please do not embarrass us. Wear something slimming.” She moved closer to you, tapping your hip. “You’re looking a little wide. Let’s hope you aren’t pregnant with the poor pogue’s child.” 

Without looking back, she exited the room, leaving you alone to chew on her words in the oh-so-familiar silence. 

—

JJ spent his entire shift at the auto shop convincing himself that tonight would be the night he finally fessed up. It’d always been so difficult for him; pushing his feelings for you so deep inside and ensuring that they’d never escape, but something had changed. Maybe it had been the events that had taken place the night before, or maybe it was the utter disappointment he’d felt in himself all day long after not confessing earlier on. 

He hopped in his truck, swinging down to the pier so he could grab a bouquet from your favourite flower cart. He might not have been a renowned romantic, but his girl was special, and she deserved to be treated as such. Though he stayed there for a while, scratching the back of his neck with a stressed look on his face, he eventually settled on a carefully wrapped set that he thought you’d like. 

A mixture of anticipation, nerves and excitement bubbled in his system. He hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for failure. But with the way you looked at him yesterday, shimmering stars in your eyes and the most gorgeous yet shy smile playing on your lips, it was hard not to let himself begin to trust the impossible. 

Maybe his dreams were within his reach after all. 

He let himself inside your house, skillfully sneaking past your parents (who were busy in planning mode) and making his way up to your empty room. He could hear shuffling coming from the bathroom and could see dozens of dresses littered across the floor accompanied by a few pairs of shoes. Half of him wondered if there’d been a tornado that only hit your closet. 

He was aching to get a glimpse of the girl who had spent the day taking up every one of his thoughts. Seeing you and being with you felt like home. A home someone would have to pry from his cold, dead hands because he’d rather die than ever let you go. 

“Y/N/N? You here?” 

When you emerged from the bathroom, JJ swore the wind was knocked out of him. His eyes trailed down your elegant frame, your curves clad in a dress he hadn’t seen you in before. Your hair was natural, and you were bare-faced, but JJ believed you could walk a damn red carpet looking the way you did and capture the eyes and hearts of everyone in that room. 

“Woah…” he breathed, awestruck. 

“Hi.” 

Your eyes were sad, and your lips were in a pout, but your tone would’ve been enough on its own to tell him that something had upset you. Reaching out for you, his warm hands found your hips and pulled you to him.  

“You make sad look beautiful, princess.” 

You smiled a little at his words before wrapping your arms around his torso and melting into him. “Thanks.” 

He hugged you back, completely void of hesitation. He took the time to drown in your scent. It was incredibly fitting; sweet and hypnotic, just like you. 

“What’s the matter?” 

You shook your head. “Nothing, it’s not a big deal. I’m just being sensitive.” 

“Hey,” he said, pulling away from you a little so he could look you in the eye. “It’s a big deal to me if it’s bothering you.” 

God, how did he do that? He could convince you to unload everything on him with a few words and that look in his eye that made you feel as if he wanted to know every single detail running around in your mind. Pair that with the warm loving touch he was smoothing over you, calloused palms rubbing your sides up and down a few times, and your words came leaking out of you like a faucet.

“Does this dress look right on me? It’s okay, you can be honest. I just need an opinion I can trust.” 

JJ felt a crack in his heart when those words left your lips. You wouldn’t even look at him, you just stared at the floor beneath your feet and smoothed out the fabric around your hips over and over as if you viewed yourself as anything less than perfection. 

You were the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. There wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t crazy about. 

That he didn’t dream about. 

Tipping your face up by your chin and forcing your eyes on him so you could really hear what he was about to tell you, he spoke. 

“Pretty girl, y’almost killed me when you walked through that door.” 

“Really?” 

JJ couldn’t tell if he wanted to hug you so tight that you’d end up stuck to him, or kiss the daylights out of you when he saw that spark of hope light your face up. “Really. You look perfect.”

You smiled that adorable, bashful smile, the one you always gave him when he calmed your mind and silenced your doubts. 

Little did you know that he’d sell everything he owned to keep that smile there for eternity. If only you would’ve seen the lovestruck look JJ was giving you. There might as well’ve been hearts floating around his head. 

However, your eyes were too busy looking at the splash of springtime colours against the white backsplash of your bedding. You felt your smile grow into a grin at the gorgeous bouquet lying there, and your eyes finally moved back onto the tall blonde in front of you. 

“You got me flowers?” 

“Uh, y-yeah.” 

It was JJ’s turn to be bashful. He scratched his brow, trying to hide his now rosy cheeks as he turned around to grab the bouquet. He handed them to you carefully, and he could hear his heart thumping wildly as you stared down at them adoringly. 

“You got me flowers.”

“It’s not a big deal. Jus’ swung by your favourite shop after work.”

Jesus, had you always made him this nervous?

You cradled the flowers in one arm, and let your free hand grab his. You tugged at it, silently telling him to come closer. You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. 

“You got me flowers, J.” 

The act of getting flowers was out of the ordinary for him. It seemed so…romantic. That’s not to say that he hasn’t bore his heart to you, ‘cause he had, but this…this was different. 

At least, it felt different. 

“Look, I jus’ thought, y’know…a girl as special as you deserves flowers.”

Oh, if you could’ve kissed him, you would’ve done so until you both ran out of oxygen. Maybe even longer. Even if it meant that you’d perish because of it. 

But, you couldn’t, so you settled on pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. Then, he cleared his throat when he realized he might’ve been staring at you too long. “So, what’s the fancy getup for?” 

“Oh, right,” you spoke. “My parents decided to pimp me out tomorrow night.” 

His eyes almost bulged out of his head. “I beg your finest pardon?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. Between the look on his face and his tone, he was making it impossible not to. “They’re throwing some benefit here for the Cut tomorrow night, and Logan asked for me to be his date. You remember Logan, right?” 

You spun around, grabbing your empty vase off the dresser and heading back into your bathroom to fill it up. Meanwhile, JJ was stuck in place, his mind buffering. 

Date? Did he hear that right? 

When he came to, he was quick to follow you. “You— Wait— Huh?” 

“Logan Huntzberger? I told you that story about how we snuck onto that boat once with a bottle of champagne and got busted by the owners, remember?”

“That’s not the part I’m confused about, Y/N.” 

His tone was more icy than he intended, but he couldn’t help but feel something like rage boiling and brewing in his core. You didn’t seem to notice, though, and if you did, you didn’t show it. Instead, you unwrapped the bouquet cautiously and placed the flowers into the vase. You were about to pass him and the threshold back into your bedroom when his hard curled around your bicep. 

“You’re goin’ on a date?” 

You gave him a weird look. “He just wants to escort me to this thing tomorrow. And to be honest, there’s safety in numbers. My parents will be so focused on him that they’ll forget about me.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away from yours as he let go of you. “You coulda just asked me.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as you placed the full vase back where it belonged. “You hate kook shit like this.” 

“I woulda came for you. You didn’t need to say yes to some spoiled rich kid.” 

“I didn’t say yes to him. My mom and dad did,” you reminded him. You walked up to him, arms crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling very open and vulnerable. “Why are you being like this? You know how they are.” 

“‘M not bein’ like anythin’,” he denied. He moved away from you, grabbing his bag off your bed. “I gotta go.” 

He didn’t know what he was doing. He just knew he had to get out of there before he exploded on you and ruined everything. How could you be going on a date with someone else when JJ was ready to tell you that he wanted you forever? 

You grabbed his arm this time around. “Don’t do that. Don’t walk away from me. Just talk to me.” 

JJ couldn’t stay. He felt sick. He felt like he wanted to strangle someone.

Okay, fine. Not just anyone. 

Logan. 

And maybe your dad, too.

“Have fun tomorrow, alright?” 

JJ made his second escape of the day much quicker than he had with his first, practically poofing into thin air right before your eyes. You wanted to chase after him, beg him to just let you in instead of running away from you, but you knew getting him to open up wasn’t that easy. He’d have to want to come to you. So you just stood there, watching the doorframe hoping he’d come back, and growing utterly disappointed when he didn’t. 

—

After the events at your home, JJ had decided to crash at John B’s. He thought being around him and the group would help take his mind off things, but all he could focus on was the void he felt without you beside him. 

That night he had been even worse. He tossed and turned restlessly all night, never the one to be able to sleep without you in his presence. He needed to hear your rhythmic breathing and feel your warmth as you curled into his side in your slumber. It’s like his mind was never at rest unless he was with you. 

The next day had dragged on, your date with Logan being the only thing on his mind from the minute he’d opened his eyes. He went to work, though he was clearly somewhere else mentally. He’d gotten scolded a few times, but he failed to remember why. Then, his bike broke down on the way back home, so he walked to Sarah’s house, hoping to catch a ride. He eventually made it, but was greeted by a party he had completely forgotten the group had planned. 

JJ had half a mind to turn back and just go home. All he wanted to do was slump into a chair on his porch, smoke a joint and try to forget about the shittiest day he’d had in a long while. But he was far too exhausted to make that trip, and why go all the way home when he could get shitfaced instead? It’d help him forget just the same. 

Right?

Wrong. 

As the intoxication began to take over him, so did the thoughts of you. 

Why did he walk away? Why didn’t he just open his mouth and say something? 

‘I love you. I’m in love with you, and you can’t be with anyone else because you should be with me.’ 

That’s all he had to say. 

And he blew it. 

The group groaned around him when he started to rant about you and your date again. He’d been rambling on and on, causing a few people in the circle to leave so they wouldn’t have to hear yet another string of complaints fall from his lips. 

“And it’s jus’ like, of course she’d ch-choose him,” he hiccupped into his red solo cup. “He’s like, rich ‘n loaded ‘n-n stacked.” 

Pope rolled his eyes. “Those all mean the same thing, J.” 

“Well, y’know what ‘m tryna say. He can give her everything. He could prolly buy her the planet. I could never do that.” 

Sarah watched her friend wallow in his drunken sorrows, and she felt saddened for him. She had always known how much JJ loved you. She could see it in his eyes the first time she saw you two together. He’d bleed himself dry for you, and there was never any question about it. 

“Okay,” she cooed, getting up from her seat and plucking his cup from his hand. “Think you’ve had enough, JJ. C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

JJ grumbled out a few protests, but Sarah ignored them, asking John B to help her lead JJ to one of the guest rooms. They managed to get him tucked into bed, and when his eyes fluttered shut, they figured they were okay to leave. 

Unfortunately, not even a half hour later, JJ woke up. He was still way past intoxicated, but he stumbled into the kitchen in search of another bottle. He almost came up dry until he saw a bottle of whiskey less than a quarter full. He chugged down the remaining contents, and instantly made a hasty exit, his boots dragging against the pavement as he walked. 

Though he was drunk, his feet led him in a familiar direction. He knew where he longed to be, where he needed to be. 

He arrived at your house, clambering his way to your door and ignoring the nasty looks he’d gotten from your parents friends and colleagues. He pushed the door open, tripping over the threshold but managing to keep himself upright. He made his way through the house, and his mind quieted when his eyes finally landed on you. He was elated for all of five seconds because then he saw Logan’s hand find your waist. He pulled you closer to him, angling his head down slightly. 

Absolutely-fucking-not. 

“Hey! Keep your hands off my damn girl!” 

Your eyes, Logan’s, and countless other partygoers’ all shot over to JJ. He was stumbling and had almost taken out one of the serves as he made his way over to you. 

“J? What are you doing here?” 

JJ ignored your words and your hands on his chest as he pointed an accusatory finger at your date. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch her again.” 

“JJ, stop! You’re drunk!” You shout in a whisper, pushing him back a little now. 

“You don’t know her. You haven’t spent your whole life loving her and making sure she had someone. You aren’t there to remind her to eat when she gets stressed, ‘c-cause she always forgets. ‘N you aren’t there when she cries, ‘n your heart doesn’t break when she does. You’re nothin’.” 

More eyes were now on the three of you, and before you knew it, your parents were making their way over to you. 

“Enough, Maybank. Get out of this house before I throw you out,” your father snarled. 

“Dad, stop it!” 

“You,” JJ said, turning his attention to your parents. “You two are the worst of ‘em all. Throwin’ this bullshit party when you’re never even here. You care about the cut? You don’t even care about your damn daughter!” 

“JJ, enough! Let’s go!” You pleaded, trying to pull him. 

He freed his arm from your grasp. “No, Y/N/N, everyone needs to hear this. They need to know they’re supportin’ two people who think it’s fun to body shame their daughter and remind her time and time again that they couldn’t care less about her. They didn’t even go to your graduation, Y/N/N. You worked your ass off, ‘n they couldn’t even be bothered to send you a damn card! Never mind the last five birthdays of yours that they missed. They’re pieces of shit, ‘n all their friends should know it!” 

“You’re lucky I don’t call the cops!” 

“Go ‘head. Call ‘em. Call ‘em ‘n tell ‘em that you’re arresting me for defending your daughter.” 

“That’s it,” you mumbled to yourself. You grabbed JJ, pulling him hard this time. “Come with me, now.” 

JJ’s voice got quieter the further away you dragged him, but it was clear enough. “‘M not done with you, Y/F/N!” 

Luckily, Logan had come to your aid, helping you haul JJ up the stairs. It wasn’t an easy feat, as JJ had been swatting him away the entire way up. The two of you finally got him into your room, and you told Logan to rejoin the party. JJ sunk into your bed, and you tucked him under the sheets before handing him a water bottle. He pouted, not wanting to drink it, but relented when he saw the look on your face. 

“Are you mad?” 

You ignored his words, continuing to help him get settled. You were trying hard to bite your tongue because you knew that even if you scolded him, he most likely wouldn’t remember a single thing you said. That, and you could tell he was hurting. That’s the only reason he would’ve gotten this drunk. 

“Uh oh. You’re mad. ‘M soo in trouble.” 

“Tomorrow, JJ. Go to sleep.” 

His big blue eyes sulked at you, though they were a tad hazy, and he latched onto your hand after you smoothed some hair from his eyes. “‘M sorry. ‘M just sad.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath. “It’s okay, J. Now sleep.” 

He tapped his right cheek, silently asking you for a kiss there. You did as he requested, unable to refuse him, but not without an eye roll. Then he repeated his taps on his other cheek. You kissed him there too. The cycle continued with his forehead, and then his nose. When you were done, he tried his luck, tapping his puckered lips. 

To that, you laughed softly. “Nice try, Maybank.”

— 

If you could pay someone to pluck the memories of the previous night from your brain, you’d fork over all the cash you could muster. JJ’s behaviour, your embarrassment, apologizing to Logan profusely…. 

Yeah. 

You’d erase all of it. 

Mad and anxious as you were, though, you couldn’t stop thinking about how your ‘date’ had only made things more abundantly clear; you would forever be in love with JJ. 

All night long, you knew Logan was trying to charm you. He was the perfect gentleman. He helped you down the stairs in your heels, guided you through the crowd, and got your drinks for you. Talked to you about your interests and actually, genuinely cared about what you had to say. But with every touch of his, all you could feel was the ghost of JJ’s and the trails of fire he’d left behind every time his skin brushed against yours. Could smell his familiar scent of weed, sea salt and some high-end cologne he’d snatched from a party on Figure 8, in place of the cologne that Logan had spritzed on himself. And when Logan tried to kiss you, you couldn’t even think about it. Because the truth was, you knew it would never compare to the sliver of heaven you’d ascended to when JJ’s mouth was on yours.  

Your mind moved over to the boy you’d tucked into your bed last night, and a pang of worry hit you. Yes, you were still mad, at least partly, but you couldn’t focus on that. All you could focus on was your concern for him. 

What was he battling? And why did he feel as if he couldn’t approach you about it? Didn’t he know by now that you’d stand by him through anything? 

Didn’t he know by now that he wasn’t alone? 

A loud clang in the kitchen caught your attention, and you decided to head down to investigate. You were also in desperate need of a cup of coffee. 

You hadn’t expected to find JJ moving around your kitchen less-than-expertly during what would probably go down as the worst hangover known to man, but the sight that greeted you was nothing but endearing. 

There he was, your best friend, surrounded by a chaotic array of ingredients and bowls and utensils. Flour dusted the tips of his blonde (now white) strands, there was a smear of what you assumed was batter across the apple of his cheek, and his clothes looked even worse off than his face. 

Still, his tongue was poked out adorably while he concentrated on the soon-to-be-cooked ingredients in front of him. 

“J?” You chuckled softly, unable to suppress your smile at the sight before you. 

JJ’s eyes flit up to yours abruptly, a worried and panicked look spreading across his face. You could see the dark circles, and his voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke. 

“Shit! You’re supposed to be in bed!” He rushed over to you, hands finding your shoulders with ease and trying to urge you to spin back around. “You gotta go back up.” 

Your amusement was clear on your face as you looked around at the mess. “I don’t think that’s wise, J.” 

JJ scratched the back of his neck, huffing frustratedly. His eyes weren’t as bright as usual, noticeably clouded by shame. “I jus’ wanted to apologize for last night. I thought makin’ breakfast would maybe help me get back on your good side.” 

Your heart softened at his sincerity, your annoyance from the previous night now dissipating at his intentions. “You’re always on my good side. I just wish you’d talk to me about what’s going on instead of completely dodging me and getting blackout drunk just ‘cause you’re avoiding things.” 

You’d always known him so well. Most times, you knew him better than himself. That being said, JJ should’ve known that you’d figure him out the minute he showed up at your house. He messed up terribly. He knew he embarrassed you, he knew he might’ve ruined the party and angered your parents beyond belief. But right now, he knew that even after all those things, they’d never stop you from worrying for him and making sure he was good on all fronts. 

He definitely didn’t deserve you, but at that moment, he decided; he was going to keep you anyway. 

“You’re way too good for me.” JJ’s flour-dusted hand cupped your cheek, and he looked down at you with all the love he could muster up, and then some. “You’re way too good for me, and I fell in love with you anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his words hung in the air, and you blinked, momentarily taken aback by the confession you’d spent nearly your entire life yearning for, yet never expected to hear. 

“You’re…you’re in love with me?” You repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes searched his, and now, they were as clear and sincere as ever. 

JJ nodded earnestly. “After that night, when I showed up with those flowers…I was gonna tell you. ‘N then you told me about your date with Logan ‘n I jus’ freaked ‘cause I could feel myself losin’ you to this, like, superior guy who could give you everythin’ I couldn’t.” 

“J…” you trailed off sadly in a whisper. 

“It’s always been us, y’know? Two peas in a shitty-parents-pod. But even on my worst days with Luke…it never mattered, ‘cause I had you. ‘N when I thought about you leavin’ me…Y/N/N, I couldn’t even stomach it. Then I kinda went off the deep end.”

You grabbed his hands with urgency. “I could never leave you, J. Never.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a soft voice. “I love you too much.” 

JJ’s gaze searched yours, his eyes mixed with hope and trepidation. “For real?”

“Yes, for real, dummy. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and your heart pounded in your chest at your confession. But this time, it wasn’t with nerves or fear, it was one hundred percent, wholeheartedly with love. 

“So, does that mean I can finally kiss you again?” 

Even at his most vulnerable, this cheeky boy could still whip out a boyish smirk on command. This only prompted you to toy with him a little, just to get back at him. 

“And what makes you think I’m gonna kiss you, Maybank?” 

His hands surged toward your hips, and he pulled you impossibly closer while licking his lips. “I know you, remember? ‘N after the other night, I know what you look like when you want to.” 

Damn, he was good. 

Your arms looped around the back of his neck, and you threw him a daring look. “So do it.” 

He didn’t have to be told twice. His lips found yours, and you stood there for some time, just drowning each other without anything holding you back this time. Things couldn’t have been more perfect. 

He couldn’t have been more perfect.

Just like that, the two of you were home. And you’d never dare to leave. 

© MOREMAYBANK, 2024

#꒰ — in between universe ꒱ #꒰ — jj maybank ꒱ #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #best friend!jj #best friend!jj maybank #bestfriend!jj #bestfriend!jj maybank #bsf!jj #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank concept #jj maybank concepts #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank obx #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #obx #obx x reader #obx x you #obx x y/n #obx smut #obx imagine #obx fluff

[hotmencore]

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨” 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Pairing: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader (she/her), Max Fewtrell x reader

Summary: Reader and Lando share a sweet moment on stream, that the fans absolutely crumble over.

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word count: 600+

A/N: I'm not really sure about this one, so let me know what you think!

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this account, @hotmencore

It was currently late on a Saturday night, and you were in the living room of Max's apartment, him and your boyfriend Lando on stream in the next room. You didn't mind at all though, as you and Lando hadn't been back home in the UK for a while, and you two had spent the day with your friends yesterday. You currently held a copy of Before the coffee gets cold in your hands, as you were finally coming to the last few pages of the book. A blanket lay over your legs, the only noise apparent coming from the TV playing at a low volume, and the muffled talking and laughs of Lando and Max from the next room.

You and Lando didn't have a secret relationship, but more of a private one. You came to any grand prix that you could, supporting him as much as possible whilst still working your own job, but didn't feel the need to put your relationship all over the internet. You appeared a lot on Lando's jgp account, which the fans absolutely adored, but that was the majority of which you were seen on social media, your own account being private.

So when it came to twitch streams, you preferred to stay out of the way and leave Lando and Max to it.

You just came to the last line of your book, and placed it at your side, taking a sip of the tea Lando had made you earlier. You put the mug back onto the side table, and tilted your head over the back of the sofa to look almost longingly to the door of which your boyfriend was. You wouldn't admit it, seeing that it has only been about 30 minutes, but you miss his touch. But you knew you didn't really want to be seen on the stream, so decided to leave it and just wait a little.

10 minutes passed, and you had decided that you were just going to have to pluck up the courage to appear on camera if you wanted your boyfriend. You got up from the sofa, put your now empty mug in the sink, and walked to the door, slowly pulling the handle down.

The boys stopped mid conversation to peer over at the door, just as you peeked your head round to see if you were in shot of the camera.

"You okay baby?" Lando asks, a smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah I just got bored" you reply with a chuckle, walking into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"Come here" He says, also with a chuckle, beckoning you over as he shuffles back in his chair, an arm held out towards you. You walk over to him, putting your hand in his, him softly pulling you down to sit on his lap. Your head naturally falls onto his shoulder, your face away from the stream as you shut your eyes, Lando's arms almost instinctively wrapping around your waist in an instance. Lando looks round at you, kissing your cheek before turning back to the stream. For a few minutes, him and Max carried on chatting, Lando absentmindedly dipping his hand underneath your top to trace random shapes on the bare skin of your lower back.

"Mate the chats going mad over you two" Max says with a chuckle, turning his head to look to Lando.

"What?" Lando laughs, shuffling closer to the chat screen on the chair, you lift your head up to also look.

Pretty much every single chat that popped up was about how adorable they found the interaction between you and Lando, though you struggled to read each one fully as they just kept flooding through. All you both did was laugh, Lando and you looking at each other, giving him the chance to place a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, which you happily reciprocated.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris x yn

[starkwlkr]

Love your baby Leclerc series! ❤️ If you're into the idea, maybe you'd like to write about Charles' little girl being sick and him being all worried and taking care of her? 🥺

my baby | charles leclerc

note: i am not taking requests, i am just posting my drafts

It started in the middle of the night when Ruby woke up Charles. She had her favorite blanket wrapped around her with her bunny slippers on her cold feet. She stood beside Charles, who was snoring. She called his name several times, but he didn’t wake up so she tried poking his arm until he woke up. When that didn’t work, she remembered the story that she overheard the other day about something that Charles had shouted.

“Box! Box!” She raised her voice slightly.

It was like a trigger word for Charles that instantly brought bad memories and anxiety. The driver woke up immediately and saw that his daughter was standing in front of him.

“What time is it?” He wondered as he rubbed his tired eyes.

“I don’t know, but I’m hurting, papa.” Ruby whined.

“What’s wrong, my Ruby Jules?” Charles asked.

“My head is hurting and I’m cold.” She whispered.

Charles pressed his hand against Ruby’s forehead and felt it warm. She was getting a fever and you weren’t home. You were on a trip with Mathéo to your home country to visit your parents. Ruby had school so Charles stayed behind since he had a break from racing.

“You wanna sleep beside papa? I’ll get some medicine so you can feel better.” Charles uncovered himself and stood up from his bed . He took Ruby into his arms and laid her onto his bed then covered her with the blanket.

“Papa, Floppy is alone in my room! He doesn’t like being alone!” Ruby gasped.

“I’ll go get Floppy, just stay here.” Charles said then kissed Ruby’s warm forehead. His first stop was to get medicine from the cabinet in kitchen. He read the directions on the bottle then grabbed a spoon. His next stop was Ruby’s bedroom where he retrieved his daughter’s favorite stuffed bunny named Floppy.

“Floppy!” Ruby called out as Charles made his way back into his room. He carefully set the bunny on the bed for her to grab.

“Time for your medicine, mon amour,” he sat on the edge of the bed as he started to open the bottle of medicine.

“I don’t want that.” Ruby used Floppy to hide her face.

“Ruby Jules, if you want to get better, you have to drink your medicine.” Charles said. Ruby hesitated, but sat up so she could drink from the spoon filled with medicine that her papa had poured.

“Does it taste like candy?” She asked.

“I don’t know, how about you taste it and then tell me.”

So she did, but instantly realized that it did not taste like candy.

“Yuck!” She made a face at her papa wondering why he even bought that disgusting liquid into the house.

“Okay, you did good. Scoot, your papa wants some cuddles.” Charles got under the covers then brought Ruby closer to him.

Morning came and Ruby was still sick. She had a stuffy nose and her fever had gotten worse. She didn’t even feel like getting out of Charles’ bed so when it was breakfast time, he brought a plate of pancakes and fruit to her.

“Papa, it hurts.” Ruby groaned as she hugged Floppy. Charles was starting to question if he should take her to the emergency room. He had texted you early in the morning about Ruby’s condition. You replied that you would get on the next flight to Monaco, but he assured you that he could handle it.

At least he thought he could.

“I know, Ruby, I know,” Charles placed a kiss on her cheek. “You know, grand-mére told me that taking a bath makes you feel better. I’m going to fill the bath, okay?”

“Can you put bubbles and the toys?” She mumbled weakly.

“Anything for you.”

After getting the bath ready with bubbles and toys, Ruby got in. The water made her feel slightly better, but blowing bubbles and playing with rubber ducks with her papa made her smile ten times more.

“Hello mister duck, you look nice today!” Charles tried doing different voices for each duck. “Thank you, little duck!”

“The ducks should have names, papa.” Ruby said.

“You’re right, what should the ducks be called?” Charles asked.

“This one is called Arthur and this one Lorenzo.” Ruby laughed as she pointed to the two ducks that Charles had in his hands.

“I guess that just leaves Charles the duck.” The Ferrari driver grabbed the third duck that was floating in the bubbly water.

“No, papa! His name is Floppy two.” Ruby grabbed the duck from Charles’ hands and played with it.

“Floppy two . . . I guess he can be called that.”

When bath time came to an end, Charles let Ruby get dressed by herself, something she always wanted to do. As Ruby got dressed in her room, Charles prepared dinner for them. Before he could finish the mac and cheese for his daughter, the doorbell rang.

He walked to the front door and opened it revealing his brothers Lorenzo and Arthur, along with Lorenzo’s girlfriend, Charlotte. “Where is my favorite niece?” Arthur asked.

“Hello, Arthur, it’s so nice to see you. I’m doing good, thanks for asking.” Charles rolled his eyes as he let his family in.

“How is Ruby?” Lorenzo asked.

“She’s better. She just took a bath, that definitely helped a lot.” Charles explained.

“Papa! I can’t put my shoe on!” The Leclerc heard Ruby shout. She walked down the stairs with a pink tutu, purple leggings, a Barbie shirt and one shoe on while she held the other in her left hand.

“Interesting choice of clothing, Ruby.” Arthur laughed.

“It’s called fashion and Ruby is a pro at it, Arthur!” Charlotte playfully hit Arthur’s arm. “I’ll help you, Ruby, come on.” Charlotte led the little girl to the living room.

“Yeah, Arthur, it’s called fashion!” Ruby sassed.

Arthur cringed. “She just called me Arthur.”

“That’s your name.” Lorenzo replied.

“Yeah, but she’s my niece. It’s weird hearing it from her.”

#inbox <3 #anon #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula one #baby leclerc series

[eydi-andrius]

Orange Peel Theory (Love and Deepspace Characters x Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Synopsis: Where you tried the viral orange peel theory to your boyfriend

divider by @/cafekitsune

a/n: its been a while since I saw feedbacks and reblogs on my posts. I highly appreciate it if you could share your thoughts here. 🫶

❄️ Zayne ❄️

- The incredulous stare Zayne gave you after you asked him to peel you an orange is a bit insulting and…you admit kinda funny

- He is usually good at hiding his feelings on his face but it was so obvious that right at this moment he is thinking how weird you are and you're probably up to something. He’s just not sure if it's good or bad

- With that look, you have no choice but to give excuses, and one of it was you just got your nails done

- He frowned at that and insists on seeing your hands, not trusting your words, and you were so happy that you did actually went out and fix your nails at a nail salon as a reward to yourself

- After he saw your manicured nails, he gave out a troubled sigh, before he took the orange from your hand and started peeling

- You were so happy when he was finally done, but was surprised when he raise the orange out of your reach and grab a small plate and pick up the oranges and place it there neatly

- You watched as he raised his eyebrow when he saw you brimming with happiness as he set the saucer in your waiting hands

- He shook his head when he heard your chirp a thank you but you can see a hint of smile on his lips

“Did you hurt yourself? Show me your hands.”

🐚 Rafayel 🐚

- Rafayel scoffed, raised his eyebrow and asked what's your deal

- You tried your best not to laugh on the way he’s crossing legs and an obvious look of mistrust on his eyes. His sassiness is truly up there and you find it truly entertaining

- You were about to give an excuse when you heard him tuts and grab the orange from your hand, regardless of your reason

- However, while peeling, he will grumble and complain about you taking advantage of your boyfriend privileges

- You swallowed whatever mirth bubbling within you and you thanked him when he was finally done and was about to give back the newly peeled orange

- But, right in the middle of it, he stopped midair, pulled back the orange, pick it apart and said “aahh” asking you to open your mouth so he can feed you

- He probably saw your frown and gave meaningful smirk at your confusion

“Well, I wanted to take advantage of my girlfriend privileges too.”

🌟 Xavier 🌟

- You felt a bit bad when you noticed a little too late that Xavier had already dozed off on your couch when you asked him to sit down and wait for you

- While scrolling on your phone, you were so excited to do the viral orange peel theory on him but you’ve guessed you forgot how tiring his day must have been, since it's only been seconds when you asked him to stay so you can grab an orange in your kitchen but he is already fast asleep

- You were about to put the orange back and call it a day when you hear him mumble a soft “give me that” and you admit that startle you a bit

- You frown and stare at his sleeping form. Thinking you must have been tired yourself hearing a sleeping person talk, when he repeated himself again and although surprise, you gave him the orange, on his open palm that he raised

- Even with his eyes closed, he started peeling the orange little by the little, and he made you worried when his head tilted on the side, almost falling from sleepiness

- After perfectly peeling the orange, with no questions asked, and his mind already off to dreamland, you found yourself admiring Xavier and how lucky you are to have him

“Where is the orange?....I will peel it for you.”

#eydi andrius #love and deepspace #love and deepspace drabbles #love and deepspace imagines #xavier #zayne #rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #love and deepspace x you #orange peel theory

[unreliablesnake]

Simon says (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: Simon doesn’t want to let you be alone when you’re drunk, so you end up at his place. After he wakes up, the two of you play a little Simon says.

Note: That little snippet became pretty popular. Thanks, guys, here’s the whole thing. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Warnings: smut. afab reader. minors dni!!!

“You suck!” you slurred once you grabbed Simon’s shoulder to steady yourself.

He only let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. Things hadn’t been the best since the breakup, but he wasn’t about to leave you here on your own when you were this drunk. So he wrapped an arm around your body to keep you up straight, then began to walk towards his car.

Through the whole ride he was begging the universe not to make you throw up in the passenger seat, but you were a clever girl and knew when to make him stop the car so you would empty your stomach onto the street. He put his hand on your back, trying to calm you with a circular motion since you were cursing under your breath.

When you closed the door and signaled him it was okay to move again, Simon hesitated. “You okay?” he asked kindly. When you nodded in response, he let out a sigh and leaned his head against the headrest. “I’m not letting you stay alone tonight. Wouldn’t want you to choke on your own vomit. You’re staying at my place, okay? I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m fine,” you tried weakly before raising a hand and opening the door again for another round of vomiting. You didn’t see Simon roll his eyes at you, for which he was grateful, but he was glad to see a change in your behavior when you sat back. “Fine, let’s go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay now?”

“Yeah.”

Simon’s lips curled into a smile as he watched you. “Can you say anything else?” he asked as he swept a strand of hair out of your face.

You made a face and he couldn’t help but laugh at it. Instead of making a comment about how weird you were whenever you got drunk, he started the car and began to drive to his place. You dozed off halfway there, and he listened to the quiet snoring as if that was the most adorable sound in the world.

Because in a way it was. When you were sober, you pushed him away. Now that you were drunk, you didn’t. He preferred this setup, he missed you every day, and keeping his distance was incredibly hard. He wanted to respect your decision to end the relationship, but despite your best effort to keep him at arm’s length, he was always drawn to you.

When he parked the car, you were still sleeping, so he decided to carry you inside instead of waking you up. You had changed your perfume. He remembered the scent of the usual one you wore when you went out, but this was certainly different. Simon didn’t like it that much, but he wondered if it was only because it told him you felt like it was time for a change after the breakup.

He took you to his bedroom, cautiously placing you on the bed then leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sleep tight, love. I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said quietly.

“Can you stay with me?” you mumbled in your sleep.

At first he thought he hadn’t heard you right, that he was just imagining things, but then you repeated it. Simon smiled to himself before lying down on the empty side of the bed next to you, an arm protectively wrapping around you immediately. You moved a little to be closer to him, your eyes still closed as you slept.

Eventually Simon fell asleep too, but his dream wasn’t free of you. He couldn’t stop thinking about what you might need to give him another chance. A friend’s advice? A big romantic gesture? Whatever it was, he was more than happy to give it to you.

In the early morning, before the sun came up, he woke up to you resting your head on his chest, while your arm was wrapped around his body. When he tried to peel you off gently, you just tightened your grip on him. “Stay,” you asked him. How could he say no to that? So he kissed your head and watched you sleeping comfortably, but he was soon reminded that you were slowly waking up. “Creep,” you noted with the hint of a smile.

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Simon raised your hand and placed a kiss on its back. “You should make up your mind. One moment you want me to stay, the next you call me a creep,” he scolded you.

“Why did I let you go?” you suddenly asked, your chin now on his chest so you could look him in the eye.

“That’s something only you can answer. You never really gave me an explanation,” Simon pointed out.

You let out a sigh. He could tell you were thinking hard about the reason, but couldn’t really find what it was. Before speaking up again, you kissed his chest and tightened your grip around his body. “I was an idiot.”

Simon had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from agreeing, too afraid a comment like that would push you away again. When he felt your hand slowly moving down his body, heading straight under his sweatpants, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should let you do this. He didn’t want to cross a line, he didn’t want to use you in any way, even if it was you who made a move on him.

“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely. As you reached into his pants and grabbed his semi-erect cock, Simon gulped. God, he wanted you so badly, it was torture. But he needed to know if you meant it, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “Let’s play ‘Simon says’, love. How does that sound? Just like in the old days.”

“But you’re so mean when we play that,” you said with a pout when he pulled your hand away from his pants.

“Simon says kiss me,” he began with a smirk.

With a short giggle you did as you were told, giving him a slow, sensual kiss that he missed so much. Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, eventually slipping his fingers into your hair to grab a fistful of it. You moaned into his mouth, but never broke the kiss. He loved that; he loved it when you acted like a little kitten, sounding almost like you were purring while you kissed him.

After he kissed the tip of your nose, he looked you in the eye and waited to see if you wanted to say anything. But you knew the rules. No talking while you played this game. “Good girl.” He swept a strand of hair behind your ear, then said, “Simon says slowly take your clothes off.”

A small, wicked smirk crept on your lips as you stood up on the bed and sensually began to shake your hips, as if you were swaying to a song only you could hear. He sat up and leaned his head against the wall while he watched you slowly take your shirt off. You threw it away and reached back to unclip your bra, but instead of quickly removing it, you cupped your breasts and pushed them together for a moment.

Simon couldn’t behave, and he flashed a smile at you before he groped his cock through his pants. You pouted, clearly unhappy that he didn’t want you to help him with that. But he wasn’t about to let you handle it, instead he motioned you to finally get rid of that bra. Being the good girl you were, you did just that, and then moved on to your jeans which you unbuttoned and slowly pushed off of yourself along with your panties.

He drew in a sharp breath. “I wanted to take those panties off of you,” he complained, earning a surprised look from you. “It’s okay, I didn’t tell you. Come here, baby.” He opened his arms, but you didn’t move. “Look at my vigilant girl,” he laughed. “Simon says help me out of my pants.”

This time you moved and got his sweatpants off. Simon could tell drool was already pooling in your mouth as you watched his now fully erect cock fall on his stomach. You had always been like that, clearly nothing changed in the past few months. You kneeled next to him on the bed, sitting on your heels with your hands resting on your thighs. Weren’t you an obedient little girl for him?

“Simon says answer me this. Are you one hundred percent sure you want this?” You gulped and nodded. You looked certain and sober, so he gave himself the green light to go on. “Simon says give me a blowjob,” he finally gave you the order.

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree, and you lowered your body to run your tongue along his shaft. His cock twitched in your hand, his excitement slowly getting the best of him. When he felt your soft lips around the head, he tangled his fingers into the hair on the back of your head and followed your movements without being too rough with you. There will be a moment when he can push you down on his cock, but now he just wanted you to get used to his size again.

You took him in your mouth, trying to take more and more in, while your hand twisted and turned around the base as you gently began pumping. He could see the satisfied little smile on your lips when he let out a deep moan and you let his cock fall out of your mouth with a loud pop.

He enjoyed it more than ever before. Maybe it was the months that had passed since the last time you’ve been together, but it was heavenly to have you like this again. He gently smacked your ass which drew a moan out of you. It wasn’t enough to stop you though, because you picked up your pace and began to let the tip get closer and closer to the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re too good for me,” he said quietly, earning a side glance from you. “It’s okay, keep going.” He knew what was on your mind. You had always told him you were just right for him, that he shouldn’t belittle himself. He told you about his past before, so no wonder you became so protective of him. You’d always been like that; worrying more about others than yourself.

Simon was pulled back to reality when he heard you gag, but that sound only made him push your head down a little more. He knew he was close, he could feel the orgasm building up in his core, so he pulled you off his cock and told you to speed things up and don’t waste your town deepthroating him. Being the good girl you were, you followed his instructions and he soon came into your mouth. You swallowed every drop and then even licked him clean without being told to do so.

“C’mere, baby,” he told you, and you immediately moved over to kiss him. Simon let you, he took his time enjoying the kiss, but then you broke it and leaned back and put your hand in front of your mouth. “That’s right, you screwed up.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered guiltily.

“It’s okay,” he began as he rubbed your back. “But that means playtime’s over. You know the rules.”

You threw your leg over his body to straddle him, his cock touching your ass as you leaned down to l. “Come on, Simon, I know you want this. Let’s see how fast you can make me come,” you purred in his ear before playfully biting his earlobe.

He just shook his head at this. “Maybe it’s better this way. I’m not entirely sure those few hours were enough for you to sober up.”

“Please,” you began to beg.

But he only laughed at this. “You still have your hands, love, if you’re really that desperate for an orgasm, you could just as well give me a show,” he suggested.

“Can I borrow your fingers?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not good enough,” you said with a pout before lying down next to him.

He pulled you closer and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “I still love you. If you’re willing to give our relationship another chance, I promise I’ll make you come so many times you’ll be begging me to stop,” he told you, earning a stupid little giggle from you. “You don’t believe me?”

You turned on your side to look at him. “It’s the opposite. I vividly remember that happening before. So another chance, huh? Let’s see if you can do it again, big boy,” you said with a laugh.

#call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #mw2 #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #smut

[harrysfolklore]

Harry Styles Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

this was posted on my patreon a few months ago, enjoy ! MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Harry Styles and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview."

Harry introduced himself to the camera and you smiled, you were currently at WIRED Studios for Harry's long awaited autocomplete interview that he finally agreed to do thanks to yours and his fans persistence.

You were sitting behind the camera with the rest of the crew, watching him with a small smile.

A crew member passed the first board to him, he looked at it confusedly for a minute before speaking.

"Okay so. I'm answering what I think or what?"

Everyone in the studio laughed and the director quickly explained to him how the game worked once again, you rolled your eyes with affection and he sent a wink your way.

"Alright, how is Harry Styles?" he said after taking the little piece of paper off the board, "I'm good, I'm really enjoying being home in London, I was away for a while on tour and I'm going to stay here for a bit so that's exciting."

"How did Harry Styles," he paused to rip the next paper and reveal the rest of the question, "Become famous? Well, when I was sixteen years old I auditioned for a singing show called The X Factor, I got put in a band with four lads and we didn't win but we put out a song called What Makes You Beautiful," he smiled for a second, "that one put us on the map, we released a bunch of albums and now I'm here."

"How did Harry Styles meet his wife?" at this, he turned his gaze to you to give you a big smile, you immediately mirrored his and nodded your head, signaling that you were okay with him talking about it.

"We could say that it was basically a blind date, we had a friend in common who thought we would be a good match and set us up, we had an amazing first date but then I had to travel to Los Angeles for work so we couldn't really see each other after that but once I was back in London we hung out all the time, and now we're married."

He smiled at you again and you couldn't help but feel your heart melt, you had been married for 6 months now but the married life was still new for the both of you, and everything he called you his wife butterflies made its way to your stomach.

"How is Harry Styles still alive?" his eyes widened in surprise and he looked around the room, making a few present laugh, "Um, that's a weird thing to search on the internet, but I guess, I don't know if I can answer that, I don't think anyone can answer that we're just lucky to still be around and enjoy life."

He gave the camera one of his infamous "frog smiles" and handed the board to a crew member who was ready with the next one.

"Does Harry Styles have tattoos?" he revealed the first question of the new board, "Yes, he does. I have a lot of tattoos actually, they're basically all over my body. The most recent one is right here," he pointed at the back of his right arm, "It's my wedding date, actually, everyone might call me a sap but I was reserving this arm for tattoos about my wife a and future kids, so I guess it's finally time to fill it."

It was safe to say that  fans watching at home and everyone in the studio absolutely melted, especially you.

"Does Harry Styles have siblings? I do I have a sister, she's older than me and her name is Gemma. A lot of people claim she's cooler than me for some reason but I don't thing that's true," he shrugged and revealed the next question, "Does Harry Styles speak Italian? I would like to think that I do, I spend a lot of time there and I've learned how to communicate pretty decently."

"Is Harry Styles an actor?" he said after peeling the first sticker of the new board, "He tries to be an actor that's for sure," he laughed and everyone in the room did as well, "I mean, I've been in a couple of movies, I've auditioned for a bunch of roles and my agent has sent me scripts to go through," he shrugged "So I can say that makes me an actor."

"Is Harry Styles american?" he shook his head at that one, "He is not! He's Britain, born and raised okay? He's very proud of it."

"What's Harry Styles BeReal? I don't have a BeReal, but if I did I wouldn't tell you," he pointed to the camera jokingly, "What are Harry Styles fans called? I think they are referred to as Harries, but I don't like to speak on behalf of them, you should ask them."

"What was Harry Styles first song? My first song was Sign Of The Times, I wrote it with friends that I love, and that is my wife's favorite song I've ever written, right love?"

"That's correct." you said from your spot, pretty audible so you know it would make it to the final cut of the interview.

"What are Harry Styles songs about?" he peeled the last sticker of the board, "They're about a lot of things, life, friends, love, my wife," he shrugged, "I even have one about the female orgasm."

You quietly giggled, knowing that his fans would go crazy over that last sentence.

"Did Harry Styles go to college? He did not, he became a singer."

"Did Harry Styles win a Grammy? He somehow won Album Of The Year last year, which is absolutely insane if you ask him."

"Did Harry Styles finish high school? Oh I'm glad the internet asks," he laughed, "Contrary to popular belief I did finish high school, I completed my GCES and I graduated, I don't know why there's a rumor there that I didn't finish high school tho."

"Anyway, last one!" he comically threw the board to the floor and grabbed the final board a crew member was handling him, "Who is Harry Styles best friend? Um, I have a ton of best friends. Jeff who's also my manager, Mitch who plays in my band, my childhood best friend's name is Johnny, so yeah, I'm very lucky in the friends department, I love my friends."

"Who does Harry Styles look like? My mom, I would say. A lot of people point out that we have the same smile," he shrugged, "My mom is a beautiful woman so I'm flattered."

"Who did Harry Styles write Love Of My Life about? My wife and London."

"And final question," he slowly peeled off the sticker for dramatic effect, "Who does Harry Styles love? Okay, that's cute that people search for that on the internet, um, I love my family and friends, I love my wife that's for sure, I love making music and performing," he listed with his fingers, "And love love, yeah, love is great."

He smiled to the camera and put the board aside to say his goodbyes.

"I thought my Google searches were much more appropriate that I expected. I was fun to see what people wonder about me, so yeah thank you WIRED for having me."

#harry styles #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fic rec #harrysfolklore #harry styles instagram concept #harry styles headcannon #harry styles fanfic #1k

[captainsophiestark]

Picture Perfect

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict's childhood best friend, who he's recently started courting, notices he's been a bit off lately and decides to see if there's anything she can do to help.

Word Count: 3,045

Category: Fluff, a little bit of Angst

A/N: It's been a minute since I rewatched season 2, so I may have the timing wrong a bit. For the purposes of this fic, though, Benedict finds out that Anthony paid to make sure he got into art school at the same time that they're all at the Bridgerton's country estate.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Something was wrong with my best friend.

I could tell from the minute I saw him, as his mind was clearly somewhere else. He also gave his brother Anthony a colder shoulder than usual, which I knew Anthony likely deserved, but that Benedict rarely gave him. It must've been something pretty bad.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to drag Benedict somewhere and get some answers out of him, followed by doing whatever I could to cheer him up. But unfortunately for the both of us, despite having grown up together, now that we were both adults in society and he had recently started courting me, we were no longer technically allowed to be alone together. Things were usually a bit looser when it was just the Bridgertons and I, but while I'd joined them for a trip to their country estate, another family had joined us as well, tying my hands more than usual.

Still, I managed to corner him slightly away from the rest of the group after dinner that night, when I'd first noticed something off. He'd been on his way upstairs, rather than joining the rest of us in the parlor after dinner, and I managed to get in front of him quickly enough to make him stop in the hallway.

"Benedict," I said, trying to keep my voice low. He let out a long, deep sigh, but didn't move to step past me, instead fixing me with a tired stare. I frowned. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "It's... nothing."

I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow.

"Benedict Bridgerton, I have known you since the age of five. There is no chance of that terrible lie convincing me of anything, besides perhaps that I made the right decision about checking on you."

He sighed again, this time even heavier, and when he met my gaze again it was with an empty smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You remeber I shared my excitement with you about being accepted into art school?"

"Of course! Don't tell me something went wrong..."

He shook his head. "The opposite. Apparently my dear brother took it upon himself to make sure I got in, offering a bribe to secure my acceptance. Yet again, I fail to step out of my family's shadow and generate an accomplishment of my own, without their name and money securing it for me."

I frowned and reached out to touch his arm, but Eloise's voice from the other room promising to find where I'd wandered off to broke the moment. Benedict mustered that hollow smile again, then finally stepped around me.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Don't worry about me. Just go enjoy the rest of your evening."

I frowned after him, but he didn't look back as he climbed the stairs and disappeared onto the second floor. I briefly debated following him, but Eloise's hand on my elbow broke me from that thought.

"Y/N, what on earth are you doing out here? You're missing Kate and Anthony sparring over something trivial again."

I forced a smile onto my face that was hopefully more convincing than Benedict's and turned to face Eloise.

"Well, that's certainly something I don't want to miss. Let's go."

Eloise still looked like she had questions, but I didn't give her room to ask them as I joined the rest of our group in the parlor. Benedict stayed on my mind for the rest of the night, although I tried to hide my worry. Hopefully he'd been right about himself, and would be feeling better in the morning.

*****************

Benedict clearly wasn't feeling better in the morning. I was witnessing the man I loved having an existential crisis, and by the afternoon, I decided I couldn't sit by an watch anymore, society and the Ton and the gossips be damned.

I spent the next hour gathering and setting up the things I'd need, then went to find Benedict. He wasn't anywhere to be seen in the house, so I asked Eloise, who directed me to his bedroom.

I'd been in his bedroom before, of course, since we'd practically grown up together. But now that we'd started on the path to being something else to each other, with my heart registsering significantly more romantic feelings for the man Benedict had become, I found myself slightly nerovous as I stood outside his door. Still, I forced myself to ignore the nerves as best I could. Benedict was hurting, so everything else had to be put on hold while I helped him.

I knocked on his door, pretending my faster-than-normal heartbeat didn't exist as I waited for a response. That became much harder to accomplish when Benedict opened the door, his shirt far more open than normal and without anything over it, hair looking a rumpled mess. My heart did backflips, despite me mentally telling it to calm down.

"Y/N! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. I must look a mess-"

"No, not at all!" I said much too quickly. "You look, uh... very nice."

The familiar lopsided smile I loved so much appeared on Benedict's face as he leaned on the doorframe before me. He raised an eyebrow, the familiar spark of mischief that I loved so dearly igniting in his eyes, and for the first time in more than a day, he looked to be slightly back to himself.

"Well, I'm very glad to hear you think so. What brings you to my door, then?"

"You haven't seemed to be doing very well since you got the news about Anthony. And don't try to deny it, I know you too well. So, I thought I'd come find you and try to help cheer you up."

Benedict's eyebrow rose again as he crossed his arms.

"And what exactly did you have in mind?"

"I'll show you. But we're going to have to be a bit sneaky about leaving."

Benedict's mood lifted the moment he found out we were going to sneak out of the house together. We'd been regular trouble makers as children, sneaking out for adventures at least once a week, but since we'd both grown up that had basically come to a stop. Now, as I took his hand and dragged him along behind me and we ran through the countryside and left Bridgerton House in our wake, I couldn't stop a wild laugh from bubbling out of my chest. I'd missed this much more than I'd wanted to admit.

"Where are we going?" Benedict called, his own voice breathy and laced with laughter as we ran. I just shot him a grin back over my shoulder.

"You'll see!"

He huffed, but didn't protest as he followed after me. Finally, after winding through the woods and climbing a rather steep hill, we reached the spot I'd spent so long making nice this morning.

This hilltop looked out over the countryside stretching beautifully below us, even better now as the sun had started to get a bit lower in the sky. Waiting for us was a picnic blanket spread out in the grass with all of our favorite foods, wine, and an easel with art supplies set up right next to it. I dropped Benedict's hand as we came to a stop, instead turning to face him with a grin.

"Well? What do you think?"

He stared at everything I'd laid out, mouth open slightly in shock. His brow furrowed when he saw the canvas, and he turned back to me.

"What is all this?"

"It's a picnic, for the two of us," I said. "To watch the scenery and the sunset together without the pressures of society or being a Bridgerton to bring us down. The easel is optional–we can pack it away right now if you want to. But you told me you think Anthony's the reason you got into art school, and I don't agree. I've seen your work, and I know just how good it is. You got in on merit, Benedict. But I know I can't just say that and have you believe it, so I brought some supplies here so you can prove it, if you want to. Paint this moment for the two of us, and I'll swear on our relationship and everything I hold dear to be honest about what I think. Completely, totally, brutally honest."

Benedict's eyebrow quirked again.

"Well, I don't know if brutal is completely necessary..."

"I mean it, Ben. I hate to see you like this, doubting yourself. So if there's something I can do to counter Anthony's idiotic meddling, I'd like to."

"And what if..." He cleared his throat, emotion swirling in his gorgeous brown eyes as he met my gaze. "What if the truth would only serve to enforce what I know? That Anthony's meddling and money is the only reason I've gotten where I am."

I shook my head. "That won't happen-"

"Y/N." I stopped, biting my lip and forcing myself to meet Ben's stare again. He took a few steps forward until we were right in front of each other, then took my hands gently in his own. "What if it does?"

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Then I will keep my word and tell you so. One way or another, I will tell you the truth, even if it may not be what I want to tell you. I swear it, Ben."

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning my face. We stayed like that for a few long moments, and briefly, I thought Benedict might make a move to do something I never though he'd do with the Ton hovering over both our shoulders whenever we were together. But then he sighed, a smile returning to his face as he stepped away.

"Alright then. I believe you, and I value your opinion. And since you went to all the trouble to drag these supplies up here in the first place... I may as well get started."

I beamed at him. "I'll pour us some wine."

"Please."

When Benedict first sat down at his canvas, he kept fidgeting nervously, his hands hovering and twitching over various paints and brushes as he second-guessed his decisions. But slowly, as I kept up a stream of conversataion, supplying him with food and drink for fuel as he needed it, I noticed him beginning to relax.

"This is nice," I mused, leaning back on the picnic blanket and looking out at the scenery as Benedict worked. The sun had gotten much lower in the sky than when we'd left, which Benedict had grumbled about as it impacted his painting. Still, the golden light, soft breeze, and warm, fresh air felt like heaven to me.

"I agree," he said, not taking his eyes away from his easel. "I missed running off on adventures with you at the drop of a hat."

"So did I. But, hopefully... we may be able to get back to that again sometime soon."

Benedict looked over at me from his easel, a rougish grin on his face.

"If I didn't know better, Lady Y/L/N, I would think you were boardering on making me a marriage proposal."

I faced forward and closed my eyes under the guise of feeling the sun, trying to ignore my heart pumping frantically in my chest.

"Well. Fortunately for us both, you do know better. And it's not as if you're some strange man I met at court. You're... Ben. My best friend."

"I never said I wouldn't like it, did I? It would be an honor to be proposed to by you."

I cracked one eye open, turning my head to face Benedict with a grin. He wasn't looking at me, his stare focused on his canvas, his face completely serious. My heart stopped threatening to explode out of my chest, and instead settled into the unique, glowing warmth of love I felt whenever Benedict and I were together.

"I love you, Ben," I said, my voice soft and quiet. He stopped his work completely to turn and look at me, a soft smile on his face.

"I love you too. Very, very much." We held each others' stares for a moment, soaking in the comfort and joy of being together, and then Benedict's smile turned into a more edged grin. "It's a good thing we feel so strongly, since we may just be forced into an earlier marriage than planned to avoid a scandal after disappearing for an entire afternoon and evening together."

I huffed and waved him off. "Fortunately, I predict your brother will be accidentally helping us and making up for causing this crisis of confidence in the first place. He and Miss Kate Sharma are so ridiculous and dramatic together, I highly doubt anyone will notice we're gone."

Benedict chuckled, turning back to his work to scan it one last time before finally setting down his paintbrush. He took a deep breath, then stood and offered a hand to me.

"I've finished," he announced as I took his hand. He pulled my to my feet, but instead of looking at the painting, my eyes stayed fixed on him. We were almost chest to chest, and I could tell from his furrowed brows and darting eyes just how nervous he was about my verdict. "Remember, you promised me honesty."

"And honesty you will get."

Finally, I turned from Benedict to the canvas he'd been working on all afternoon. I'd resisted peeking before now at his request, so I wouldn't have any bias from watching his process. Fortunately, just as I'd predicted, his work was magnificent.

"Benedict..." I breathed as I took in the soft lines and vibrant colors before me. It perfectly captured how I felt looking out at the valley before us; it captured the gorgeous scenery, yes, but it also infused everything with a bit of magic that I only felt in this space with him. "This is absolutely incredible."

Benedict came around to stand next to me, arms crossed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head.

"Now please don't forget, you promised me honesty."

"I am being honest! Benedict, this is fantastic. The way you capture the myriad of different shades of the light shining across the valley, the seamless lines giving the world a slightly hazy, dreamlike look, and the way you've left the paint a bit messier with the clouds, to make it look like they're moving? It's all perfect, Ben. And masterful. It's a picture of the valley, yes, but it looks like it's alive. And you somehow managed to capture what it feels like to be here in the moment together, the sun on our faces, with each other even when we're not supposed to be, in a truly special way. You're an incredibly talented artist, and I'd be saying that even if you were a complete stranger that I didn't particularly like."

He snorted, then after a second, wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. I leaned into him immediately, sighing a bit as he leaned his head against mine.

"I have a hard time believing you'd say all that to a stranger you didn't like."

I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the stomach, and he laughed without letting me go. A smile spread on my own face despite myself.

"Alright, maybe I wouldn't say all that to a stranger I didn't like. But I'd say it about their work when they couldn't hear me, probably to you. My point stands, Ben. You are a very skilled and talented artist. Anthony isn't the reason you got into that school. You are."

His chest rose and fell with a long, deep breath, and then finally, I felt him nod.

"Thank you. I can't promise it will always be easy for me to always believe it, but... I'll try to remember your words, and not my brother's, from now on."

"Good. And if you feel down again, you can always come to me. I'll always be there for you, Benedict, whenever you need me."

"And I you, my love," he said, moving down to whisper the words in my ear as he wrapped his other arm around my waist, too. He kissed my cheek, and I leaned back into his chest for a moment before turning around in his arms to face him.

The beautiful, kind smile I'd fallen in love with stared back at me, along with his warm brown eyes. I smiled too, then finally stopped ignoring my racing heart and decided to continue the theme of ignoring the Ton and what they might say.

I leaned into Benedict, closing the distance between us with a glance at his lips before meeting his eyes again. Both of his eyebrows shot up, but he didn't pull away.

"Y/N... if anyone found out..."

I smiled. "They won't. Besides, they'd just make us follow through on something we're already planning, anyway."

Benedict huffed a laugh, his eyelids fluttering a bit as he looked at me like he couldn't believe I was real. Then, his arms tightened around my waist, and he leaned in even closer. I closed my eyes, feeling Benedict stop just a hair's breadth away from my lips.

"Are you sure-"

I closed the distance myself before he could continue. Benedict smiled into the kiss a moment later, pulling me closer to him, the two of us locked in each others' embrace as the sun set in the hills behind us. Truly, I didn't think anyone would be able to find out about how we'd spent our afternoon, but I also truly didn't care. I loved Benedict, and even though it was technically early in our courtship, I'd known him for most of my life. I knew we were meant to spend our lives together, and I knew he felt the same way as I did. Sooner or later, we'd make it official with an engagement and marriage, and be able to disappear together whenever we wanted without the Ton batting an eyelash. But, in the meantime, I didn't mind sneaking away for private moments like this one bit. No matter what had led to it in the first place.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

#sophie's year of fic #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton imagine #regency era #anthony bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #the bridgerton family #the bridgertons #bridgerton netflix #the bridgerton siblings #bridgerton season 2 #kate sharma

[moonstruckme]

Hey! I LOVE the comic you posted of the reader going to a club pre-relationship! I was wondering if you could write a part 2 to that of all of them going to a club together. With some jealousy, like when the reader goes to the bathroom on her way back she is getting flirted with by a random guy and the marauders reaction. Feel free to ignore

(Also I adore you comic that make my day every time I have re-read all of them at least 3 times!)

Hi lovely, thank you so much ! This took me forever to get to sorry, hope you enjoy it <3

part 1

cw: alcohol, unwanted/nonconsensual touch

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Your shriek cuts through the loud music, and you turn to Remus with an open-mouthed grin. 

“This is my favorite song!” you shout. 

He laughs. In the past half hour, four songs have been your favorite. “Yeah?” he asks. 

You nod happily, throwing your hands above your head as you spin. You’re tipsy twirly, surprisingly sprightly considering you’ve downed enough shots to get Remus hammered, and he’s got several inches on you and has been drinking since he was thirteen. 

Sirius is in a similar state. Remus and James have been steering the two of you around for most of the night, but now James has put himself in charge of crisis prevention, playing goalie between either of you and the bar. 

“Oh be fun, Prongsie,” Sirius wheedles after getting spun around by the shoulders for the upteenth time. “I know you can be fun.” 

“I am fun,” James agrees. “I have my most fun when I’m not cleaning up your vomit. Go dance with y/n.” 

You’re game for this plan, giving Sirius an enticing smile and moving your hips to the music in a way that makes Remus’ mouth go completely dry. He knows he’s not the only person in this club who’s noticed, but thankfully the little circle the four of you have made in the dance floor stays clear of intruders. Thus far, your prediction has proved correct; no other men have come up to you with your roommates around. He’s not particularly distraught about it. 

You seem oblivious to your own allure, laughing when Sirius hurries toward you like a called puppy. You take his hands, letting him twirl you around and then holding your arms up to twirl him in return, and at the chorus, you both jump around so that your hair flies all about. Your laughter is loud and sparkling. Remus sips his drink, entranced. 

There are two more favorite songs before you careen towards him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He hastily grips you by the elbow, wary of a fall, but you seem to have done this intentionally. You beam up at him, your smile lopsided and far less shy than anything he’s ever seen from you. 

“M’gonna go to the toilet,” you tell him, one word leading into the next like they’ve been sloppily tied together with string. 

“Oh, okay.” Of its own volition, Remus’ hand coasts up the back of your upper arm, then down to your elbow again. “Do you think you’re gonna be sick, honey?” 

Your face screws up as if this is taboo to mention. “What? No.” You make a funny pffting sound. “I’m miles off from that, I’m fantastic, it’s just,” you lower your voice, expression turning grave, “I think it’s time to break the seal,” you tell him meaningfully. 

This time it’s entirely intentional, but he also can’t help it. You’re just too cute. Remus sets his hand on the top of your head affectionately, grinning at you. “Alright, love, sounds good.” He looks around for the women’s bathroom, locating it a short distance away. “Want one of us to go with and wait outside for you?” It’s not like he can’t see it from here, but a girl as intoxicated as you probably shouldn’t be going anywhere by herself. 

“No, no, I’ve got it,” you say, patting his chest lightly. “Back soon.” 

It’s like you’ve disappeared into a mist, the way you fade into the crowd so quickly. It takes Remus a moment to spot the top of your head moving towards the bathroom. You turn around just before you go in, giving him a dazzling smile paired with a dorky thumbs-up. 

“Where’d she go?” James asks, holding his drink aloft while Sirius grabs for it. “And what has made you smile like that, Moony?” 

Remus makes a dismissive sound, but he feels his face heat as he takes a long sip of his own drink. James’ grin widens. 

“Ooh,” Sirius catches on. “What’d she say to you?” 

“Nothing. She’s gone to the toilet.”

Sirius’ kohl-rimmed eyes bulge, and James laughs, following his train of thought immediately. “Did she ask you to follow her? I didn’t think that was your style, you rake.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “You’re depraved.” 

It’s not long before you reappear, catching Remus’ eye on your way out of the bathroom like you knew he’d be looking. You give him another of those heart-stuttering smiles and head his way, weaving your way through the crowd with a drunken expertise. 

A happy glow of anticipation starts up in his chest, but you’re intercepted on the way. Another head, taller, steps in front of you, blocking Remus’ view. He cranes his neck, but he can’t see you. 

He must make some sound or simply be emanating discontent, because James is back at his side in an instant. “What’s wrong?” 

“Someone’s talking to her. I can’t see her anymore.” He sounds ridiculous, like an overprotective douche, but he can’t imagine one can be too cautious when a drunk girl is surrounded by guys in a place like this. Remus is being purely practical. 

“Let’s go get her.” James is on board immediately, taking Sirius by the elbow and beginning to bulldoze his way through the crowd. Sirius grabs Remus’ hand just before the gap closes behind them, dragging him along. 

Remus hears you before he sees you. 

“Really, I appreciate it, but I’m not looking for anything.” Your voice sounds slightly tight, and Remus knows you well enough to tell by the sound of it that you’re giving whoever you’re talking to one of your big, fake smiles. 

A man’s voice says, low and sure, “You don’t mean that—” and that’s as far as he gets, because you interrupt to exclaim, with no small amount of relief, “My friends!” 

“Hi, sweetheart,” James says, and you’re right in front of them. You’ve cleaned up your makeup in the bathroom, the eyeliner that had transferred sweatily under your eyes now pristine again, and your smile is indeed giant and thin-lipped as you look between them and the man in front of you, subtly flaring your eyes. He reads the look clearly: Help, please!

Remus looks you over. The man has his hands on your hips and one of yours is around his wrist, a cautious touch. Sirius takes care of that quickly, wrapping his forefinger and thumb around the wrist closest to him and removing it like it’s a piece of trash he found on the street. 

“Do you two know each other?” Remus asks. Without permission, his voice comes out gruff and accusatory. 

“No,” you say speedily, taking a step towards Sirius. Towards them. “I was just on my way back to you guys, actually.” 

“We were talking.” The man looks between the three of them scrutinously, like they’re threats. Remus doesn’t hate the thought of being a threat to this guy. 

“Sounded like you were done talking, mate.” James smiles easily. You’d have to really know him to hear the sharpness in his tone. 

Sirius snakes an arm around your waist, but you don’t shy from the bold touch. In fact, you lean into him, your smile slowly beginning to resemble the genuine article. “Wanna get another drink, baby?” Sirius asks you, gaze salacious. 

“Mhm.” You bob your head eagerly, and he leads you off, James and Remus following. “Thanks for the help,” you tell them as soon as you’re away. “He didn’t, like, do anything, but it was a bit intimidating.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James replies, expression going a bit stormy now that he’s done feigning lightness. “And I wouldn’t say he didn’t do anything, he shouldn’t have put his hands on you like that.” 

“It’s whatever,” you wave it off so easily Remus’ heart gives a little throb. “What’re we drinking?” 

“Oh, that was a ploy,” Remus says. “We’re done drinking, remember?” 

You pout, and Sirius hugs your side sympathetically (entirely for your benefit, Remus is certain). “You mean we’re done,” he sneers. “You and Prongs get to have however much you want. Who made you king of the beer?” 

“I think you did, actually,” Remus says thoughtfully. “At Mary’s New Year’s party, remember?” 

Sirius sniffs, presumably because he does not.

#roommate!marauders #roommate!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one shot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[cozage]

Coza!! Congrats on your 2K followers. 🥳🎉🥂

I like your smuts and I’m having a hard time choosing what scenarios to request!! I’m so excited for this event you have no idea. May I request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy+ Sanji+ Zoro+ Law+ Eustass Kid + Killer to you reading smuts/hentai please? Thank you!!

A/N: Hi :) I wasn't able to do everyone, but I did a few! Minors…OUT! go on! Get! Scram! Also I won’t lie Zoro’s is based loosely off of the funniest comic I’ve seen in my life that stays living rent free in my head Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law Cw: smut and suggestive, NO MINORS ALLOWED ON THIS POST PLS GO AWAY Total word count: 900

Scandalous Reading

Luffy

Luffy’s head rested on your shoulder, his eyes lazily skimming the page that you were reading. 

“Woah!” Luffy grabbed the book out of your hand and put it up to his face to get a better view of the words. “I didn’t even know this was possible!”

“Luffy!” You reached for the book, but he held it just out of your reach, still reading. 

“I didn’t even think about trying-”

“Luffy! Give it back!”

His wide eyes peered over the pages, but he refused to hand it back to you. “Do you like this stuff?”

“I mean-I don’t-I just-” Your face turned beet red at the implication. “It’s just written really well!”

He gave you a mischievous grin and took off back toward his room, book in tow. “Come on!” he called. “I want to see if it really can work this way!”

Oh, you were in for a rough night.

Sanji

“My love, did you-” Sanji stopped, his eyes fixated on the book cover you were reading.

“Sanji?” you prompted, trying to get his attention.

“I know that author,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Where do I know that-”

“You probably don’t!” You slammed your book shut and shoved it behind your back. “What did you need?”

“Oh! Right! Would you like gelato or ice cream?”

“Surprise me!” you said, trying to get his mind off the book. “I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing!”

Sanji was in the kitchen when he finally placed it, and he almost collapsed from the realization of what he had caught you reading.

He brought you out the finest gelato he had ever made and set it down next to you. “So, my love,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. “How is your book?”

“It’s good,” you said. You set it down to grab your gelato, and Sanji lunged for it. 

He skimmed the pages, confirming his suspicion, and tried his hardest not to pass out from the filth his eyes found. “You’re reading book porn!” he whispered sharply. “You always get on me for staring at-”

“That’s not the same,” you hissed. “These aren’t real people! It’s different!”

“It is not!”

“What am I supposed to do!?” you snapped back, glaring at him. “You’re busy in the kitchen, I have to entertain myself somehow during the day!”

Oh, that was a bad way of wording things, because the second the words were out, Sanji’s eyes lit up. “Are you telling me you want to do something like this? Because I would love nothing more than to treat you like the royalty I know you are.”

Zoro

“What are you reading?” Zoro asked, looking at your book cover. 

“A book.” You tilted the book slightly to shield him from seeing any of the words.

“What’s it about?” He seemed strangely interested in the cover. “Swordmaking?”

Oh right, there was a sword on the front cover of the book. No wonder he was so interested in it. 

“It’s called Swords and Snakes. It’s a book about…royalty, love, and betrayal.”

He scrunched his face in disgust and went back to resting his eyes. “Not really my kind of book.”

You grinned. "No, I don't think it is." You set your book down and stood up. “Do you want anything? I’m going to go get a snack.”

“Riceballs.”

You nodded and went to the kitchen to grab food. What you hadn’t been expecting was returning to Zoro staring wide-eyed at the page you had dog-earred. 

He looked up at you in amusement, smirking at your anxious body language. “You weren’t joking about love and betrayal.”

“That’s mine!”

“More like love-making and betrayal,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know they wrote books like this. I didn’t know you would read books like this.”

“Well to be fair-” you snatched the book from his hands. “I didn’t know you could read at all!”

“Don’t be too bratty now,” he teased. “Or I’ll give you the same treatment that knight gave the princess.”

Law

You had only left your book laying on the bedside table for a minute while you ran to the bathroom. But damn that Trafalgar Law, he was so nosey. 

“Quite the fantasy world you read about,” he hummed as you walked back into the room.

“What do you-” your words died in your throat, seeing him flip through the pages. “Oh, that.” You gave a nervous laugh, striding back over to your bed. 

“Yes, this.” He slapped the book shut, peering up at you with such a predatory and lustful look that you almost took a step backward. 

“I just picked it up at the last bookstore we went to,” you lied. “I don’t even know what it’s about.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing you. 

He handed the book back to you, and you quickly grabbed it. “Thanks,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Sure.” He stood to take his leave, heading back to the lab. He stopped on his way out, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“If you ever want to make it a reality, all you have to do is ask.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #cozage #✧˚law✧˚ #✧˚sanji✧˚ #✧˚zoro✧˚ #✧˚ luffy✧˚

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour (3)

When your mother is sent screenshots of your tweets, you lie & claim that it was an inside joke between you & your boyfriend. @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @babycandy111

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.730

Warning: dirty talk, simp jungkook once again, oral (f/m receiving) face riding, 69, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation kink, submissive reader, dom jungkook, slight jealous and possessive jungkook, but like we love this jungkook,

“Never knew you lived alone.” you say as your eyes scan around the clean, spacious apartment. 

“I’ve invited you over plenty of times.” Jungkook closes the door behind him, takes off his shoes and makes his way towards his kitchen. “You always shot me down.”

You follow him into the kitchen with a roll of your eyes, sitting on the island to watch him take out the fresh food he just bought today for dinner. “Who knows what you’d do to me if I stayed here.”

“Exactly what you beg me to do when we’re at your house.” Jungkook sends you a smile before turning away from you.

Jungkook had a point, you’re sad to say.

Jungkook begins to cook, wrapping a black apron around his torso tightly as he does so. You laugh at how persistent he is, your stomach churning with unknown feelings - you refuse to believe it’s because you like him more than a fuck buddy.

The phone call you got from your mother was an embarrassing one. She called you non-stop, and when you finally answered, you were left completely worried about what in the world she could be in such a rush to speak about.

Your tweets were not what was on your mind when you answered. She had told you that she was sent a screenshot - you blame your brother and his treacherous ways; who else would it be? “Are you prostituting yourself?” your mother’s disappointed voice asks over the phone and a side of you wants to laugh. Maybe in a way this could be prostitution - but you and Jungkook had a form of relationship. You were close friends, you’d say, often hanging out together even outside of sex - so you didn’t consider it prostitution. Just maybe a favor for a favor.

“No, of course not!” was your response, completely flushed with hot embarrassment. “Who told you about twitter? How did you find it…?” 

What made your mother stop ranting was you exclaiming that Jungkook - or the “horny boy who comments on your posts” as she puts it - was your boyfriend and everything you were tweeting was just an inside joke between the two of you - a joke she obviously didn’t get.

When you made an obvious lie to your mother, she was skeptical. You never mentioned any boyfriends before and it was news to her. She wanted to meet Jungkook, already telling your father about the embarrassing tweets and what “the new generation are doing on their social media platforms” that he didn’t care about. 

So, this is how you and Jungkook found yourself in his apartment - a rather spacious, clean and overall nice apartment - with him cooking dinner for you, himself and your parents. Once viewing your tweet, he had called you instantly, declaring that he was going to be the best fake boyfriend your mother ever met.

“Smells good.” you murmur after about 30 minutes, looking up from your phone.

Jungkook knits his brows and chuckles. “Does it?” he asks. “I had to bring out the fine china for my in-laws.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re pushing it.” you quip.

Jungkook lowers the fire and turns towards you. His apron is slightly messy, but it only meant that he was a good chef. He places his hands onto the table, your eyes catching the way his veins pulse. 

“I’m serious.” Jungkook says. “There’s no going back from this now. We mind as well start thinking about marriage.”

You raise a brow and tilt your head. 

“I mean,” Jungkook taps his fingers onto the island table. “after I woo your mother and show her how amazing I am, there’ll be no other man who’s going to have that love in her heart.”

You begin to laugh at Jungkook’s words - even if he did have a point. Jungkook would be the type of person your mother would want for you to date - which made the fake dating aspect more comical for you. 

“You’re laughing now,” Jungkook smirks, leaning forward to capture your lips in a quick, off guard, peck. His soft lips shut you up and leave you wanting more. “but I’ll be having the last laugh when she invites me to all the holiday dinners.”

You lick your lips, attempting to not let Jungkook see you flustered. “Is that so?” you decide to humor the man. “You’ll put yourself through humiliation even when I do find a boyfriend?”

Jungkook’s eyes are right on yours, starting with a serious expression. Slowly, his smirk turns into a thin line and then you begin to feel as though you crossed a line with him - maybe even hurt his feelings in a way.

Jungkook pokes his tongue through his cheek, but then he tilts his head once more and gives you that toothy grin. “Sure. You’ll keep seeing me at these holiday dinners or get-togethers because your mother will love me so much, I'll basically be part of the family.” 

Jungkook turns away, turning off the stove. His eyes darted to the clock hanging high on the wall, there was another 30 minutes until your parents would arrive. 

“You’ll still sit on my face even if you did bring a boyfriend around. And I’ll make you cum each time.”

Jungkook’s words catch you by surprise, but it leaves you hot nonetheless. His eyes are staring right through you once more - he knows what he’s doing and you hate it - hate that he knows what he could do to you with just his words.

“That sounds absurd that you think I would keep you around even if I did have a boyfriend.” you  quip, challenging him. 

“But you will.” Jungkook retorts all too quickly. “You’ll do nothing but have that” Jungkook raises a hand and does air quotations. “boyfriend running away.”

You’re taken aback, but before you can respond, Jungkook does.” When you realize that only I have the patience to handle that spoiled princess bitchy attitude you portray, it’ll make things easier for the both of us.” he shrugs. “Until then, I’ll let you live out this fantasy of a fake boyfriend coming around.”

Jungkook waits for you to respond to him with petty remarks. He doesn’t tell you, but he enjoys the petty debates you and he share - maybe because each time it ends with you sitting on his face. 

You don’t speak, and Jungkook knows yet again, he has you beat. 

“You want to sit on my face?” Jungkook questions with a raised brow after a few moments of a silent staring battle.

You nod, and now the both of you are scurrying to his bedroom - his leading the way. Jungkook doesn’t botter shutting the door, there was limited time he had. He’s already pulling at your pants when he enters the room.

Jungkook lays down upon his bed just as your pants fall. “Just push them aside.” he says in a hurry. “Cute.” he murmurs at the pastel lavender underwear you wore - they were velvet and soft. “Are these new?”

You position yourself above Jungkook’s lips and nod your head. “You should know. It was your credit card that was swiped.” 

Jungkook snorts but nods. “I don’t check where you go when I give you my card.” he begins to kiss your inner thighs.

“This is why Jimin hates me.” you giggle, biting your lip. “Spending all your money on me while he has to fight for hulu again.”

Jungkook places a kiss on your clit. “I’m not fucking Jimin.” is all he says before diving into your clit. His tongue begins to lick between your folds and now your back is arching.

Jungkook licks your clit like a man starved, determined to make you cum. His hands rub your thighs encouragingly like he usually does, wanting you to get enough pleasure as you could. 

You begin to rock your hips against his tongue, biting your lips. You could never say no to Jungkook offering to pleasure you - he does it so often now that it becomes a part of your weekly routine.

“You’re holding back.” Jungkook muffled words hit your ears. His finger slides between your panties, pushing them aside so he has more access to lick upon your clit. Just as you open your eyes to look at Jungkook, he lifts you up slightly to spit onto your clit, just to lap it up entirely, along with the arousal you provided him. 

“S-Stop doing that.” you murmur, but even you can’t help but moan. Jungkook understands your body right now, only knowing his perverted actions would cause you to buckle your hips against his tongue even harder.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, just lies and watches as your face contorts with pleasure. His hand roams your bare thighs until he reaches your ass. He rubs it gently, a slight encouragement for you to get your high off. 

With each thrust of your clit upon his tongue, Jungkook feels himself grow hard - but this wasn’t about him. He enjoyed pleasuring you, truly - even when you did nothing for him in return. Watching you knowing that he had you this way was worth it. 

Jungkook willingly slurps and groans onto your clit, his hands now squeezing your ass. “If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.” you say, and Jungkook does it even harder, a look in his eyes that tells you “that’s the point”.

‘F-Fuck.” you lift yourself from Jungkook’s tongue against his wishes.

“You didn’t cum yet.” Jungkook pushes you back down against his tongue, preparing himself when you speak.

“I know you’re hard.” you turn yourself around so you’re facing his erect cock. His sweats appear tight when you know they aren’t, but that’s due to his hardened cock.”Wanna cum in my mouth?”

Jungkook groans. He doesn’t answer, just dives back onto your clit. He has a firm grasp against you, ensuring you don’t move away from him this time. 

You don’t waste any more time, hands roughly tugging out Jungkook’s cock. It springs out and you wrap your mouth against the tip, sucking it just know you know Jungkook likes it.  Your nails dig into his thighs as your head bobs up and down, sucking him in deeper each time.

Jungkook’s fully moaning now into your clit, hips thrusting to meet your warm mouth. He doesn’t understand fully how you do this to him each time - there was never a dull moment with you. Sex each time only became better and better; he never wanted it to end.

“I-I don’t think I can let you cum in my mouth.” you say, popping Jungkook’s cock from your swollen lips. Your tongue licks up the shaft of it before you kiss the tip. “Please, just fuck me.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. When Jungkook wanted to, he could easily throw you around like a ragdoll. You’re grateful that the man with such stamina and strength never fully displays it unless you wanted him to.

“We only have about five minutes.” Jungkook centers himself at your entrance, enthralled at how amazing your ass appeared arched for him - no matter how many times you blessed him with such a view. 

“Maybe then, fuck…” Jungkook begins to enter you, your pussy immediately clenching around him. “...you have five minutes to fuck me like you mean it then.”

Fuck you Jungkook does. His thrusts are completely brutal, both hands firmly against you. His left is on your hips while his right is pressing your back against his mattress. The sounds of skin slapping echoes off of his walls, the neighbors would surely know about this one.

“Your pussy’s so wet for me, baby.” Jungkook grunts, eyes bouncing between the arch of your back to the way you were creaming his cock. “And to think you thought about having a boyfriend that wasn’t me.”

You knew Jungkook wasn’t going to let that down, but you were far too into his dick to care about what he was saying to fuel his ego - Jungkook did this constantly. “No one could fuck you as good as me” he’d say. “Your pussy was made for my cock.” was another. Your favorite was his praises towards you. “You look so beautiful taking me.” or “You ride it so good, baby.”

Jungkook’s right hand reaches for your neck, hoisting you up. His cock goes even deeper and now you’re unable to suppress your whimpers. “You know no one else can deal with you like I can.”

Jungkook’s lips press open mouth kisses against the nape of your neck. 

“I know.” you whimper, submitting to Jungkook like he wants. 

It’s amazing to think how different the two of you were while intimate. Jungkook appeared like the submissive type to others, always doting on you (even if there wasn’t an actual label on the “relationship") while you appeared dominant and demanding. But when Jungkook was in the mood (with your consent, of course) it was like a switch turned in his brain, and he wanted (needed) you to know that you were his.

“Exactly.” Jungkook chuckles. He’s hitting your spot with each thrust, not letting go of your neck. “I think you just enjoy being a bitch.”

You clench around him at the degrading word, Jungkook notices. 

“You enjoy teasing me, saying how you’d give my pussy away to someone else.”

“I-I’m about to cum!” you wail, eyes clenched shut. It was Jungkook’s fault - fuck him and his good dick and his dirty words. Maybe you were into a little bit of degrading and maybe even a little masochism - you were already submissive to Jungkook. You had to fight back agreeing with the man and telling him that it was his pussy; you would never hear the end of it if you did.

“I bet.” Jungkook retorts smugly. “You love it when I treat you like a whore off the street, huh?” Jungkook shakes his head, squeezing your neck a little harder. “I’ll fuck you however you’d like, Y/N, because deep inside, you know you’re my girl. You aren’t going anywhere.”

You cum on the spot, his words truly getting to you now. Jungkook allows you to fall into his pillows as he continues to pound inside of you. His thrusts are sloppy, and he knows even he has little time left until he cums. 

Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, pondering that maybe he has gone a little too hard on you - but then you turn your head slightly to face him and you give him those eyes. The same eyes he can never say no to.

Jungkook cums deep inside of you, twitching. He’s hissing, his eyes fluttering at the sensational feeling. There was nothing better than getting to cum inside of you - it felt more intimate than pulling out (even if he did enjoy coating you with his cum).

Jungkook takes a few deep breaths before pulling out of you. It was times like this he wished he could capture the moment - you completely fucked out with his cum dripping out of you. It’s the sick satisfaction he often thinks of when he’s alone - that you allowed him to do this to you when you are known as the closed off girl with the resting (beautiful) bitch face.

Jungkook places your panties back to cover you, lightly tapping it. “I’ll be saving that for later.” he sighs in satisfaction. “You okay? I wasn't too rough, right?”

You sigh deeply. It takes you a moment to turn but when you do, you nod. 

Jungkook gives you a wide smile. “Okay. Get up. They’ll be here soon.” Jungkook tells you. “We can’t have them knowing I fucked the shit out of you.”

Your eyes widened but you couldn’t help but laugh. You hide your face with your hands. “I’m so sleepy, though.”

Jungkook grasps your hands, placing a kiss on both of them. “We have the whole weekend to sleep in.” he says, and it’s then you remembered you agreed to spending the weekend with Jungkook, him insisting that after dinner he can just drive you back to your home and pack a bag. “And I have the whole weekend to show you just how much you are my girl.”

Jungkook sends a wink your way and you can’t help but roll your eyes, even if the pits of your stomach are churning and your body feels hot.

Series Masterlist

#bts smut #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #btsmasterlist2022 #bangtanwritershq #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #fake tweets #explicit-tae #bts fake dating #fake dating #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #ungodly hour #college au #bts college au #jungkook friends with benefits #bts fwb

[scremogirl]

✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵✥☆ミ★ ???

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞

Yandere Student Council Pres x Nonchalant reader

I’m not sure if I should retitle this to Yandere! Childhood friend x reader or not. There’s not a lot of the fact he’s the SCP shown in the story. I felt like I went a little off track. I got so consumed in writing😭. I already have a post like that on my page so I didn’t want to make it confusing. I don’t know if I should’ve said unemotional reader either. Idk let me know what you think. Have fun reading!

He was at the top of the food chain. Good grades, teachers liked him, students feared him, rich, good looking, and most importantly; the student council president. With that being said, why wouldn’t he leave you alone?

Takenya was a stuck up priss in your opinion. Always lecturing you about things you could do in order of improvement. You weren’t popular but you weren’t one of those weird Naruto kids that sat in the back of the class and ate crayons either. You just existed. Someone so average at everything somehow attracted the most “perfect” guy in school. Your grades were fine; a straight A-B student with the occasional C here and there. Your attendance on the other hand… well maybe he’s not so wrong about that, but who actually wants to be at school anyways?

“I don’t understand why you don’t try harder? You could easily surpass most of our class,”

“You need to come to school. This behavior would never pass in the real world. What would your employer think of you just not showing up?”

“Chocolate for lunch…really? If you want to stay healthy you’ll need to-“

Why does he care so much anyways? Sure, you used to be friends in like what, fifth grade? You used to get bullied in school for being different. You just didn’t like the things that kids your age were supposed to like. But… it never bothered you. You weren’t emotionless per se, it’s just, why care what others have to think?

Mellisa Grey. The girliest of all girls. She used to have it out for you when you were younger. Calling you names and bumping your shoulder whenever you walked by. You put up with it until the end of the year; fifth grade graduation. That evening she and her crew thought it’d be funny to pour milk on the shy little nerdy boy in your class. Some spilled on your dress, that you didn’t mind, but the tears of the boy next to you made you. Something inside of you just snapped. You shot up from your seat grabbing a first full of her hair and slammed her head onto the wooden table. Not stopping until you saw the wire of her pink, sparkly braces fly out her mouth. Well, that was what you wanted to do; the teachers came too early for you to inflict any further damage. The most you got was a broken nose and a lawsuit. She transferred schools after that, and you got the whoopin of a lifetime. You didn’t care. You didn’t feel bad at all. If anything you felt elated seeing her in pain and the rage on her parents faces as the cussed child you out. You didn’t cry or yell when your parents picked you up. You weren’t phased by the belt or the palm of your mothers hand striking you. You didn’t feel anything. So why were you so upset on someone else's behalf anyways?

You knew this kid. I mean, how couldn’t you when he would follow you around 24/7.

“H-Hi… my names Takenya” you just blankly stared. His sheepish gaze barely meets yours from behind his big fat glasses.

“…Do I know you?”

“Well…no. But I know you!”

“Good for you I guess.” You continued to go back and forth on the swing, not acknowledging the boy's existence at all. The swing he sat on remained stationary, never once dropping his gaze from you.

“Uhm… I just wanted to thank you for yesterday,” Hm? What was he talking about? He saw the confusion in your face when you turned around to ask and beat you to the point.

“You probably don’t know me. We’re not in the same class,” Right. So why is he talking to you? Again, before you could ask he cut you off.

“The other day when recess started you helped me pick up all of my stuff after Carter pushed me down; remember? I-I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me” Ohhh, you do remember him now. He was that shy little rich kid that transferred here at the end of fourth grade. He didn’t have many friends, let alone any at all. Everyone had grown up with each other and formed friend groups at this poin. He was a little late to the party so he didn’t fit in. He wasn’t worried about the next episode of Ninjago and didn’t find humor in looking up the words penis and vagina in the dictionary at the school library when the teacher wasn’t looking. His hair long, tied back into a neat ponytail and not buzzed into a Mohawk like half the boys in your grade. He had glasses that almost covered the entirety of his upper face. He always ate his pb&js on whole wheat instead of white and preferred celery sticks over fruit snacks. So, just like you, he got bullied just because he was different.

“Oh yea. I remember you now. You’re welcome by the way,” he grinned. The first time you saw him smile ever since he came to your school.

That marked the day of a long friendship.

That was until you went to middle school. You think puberty had something to do with it. He grew into his face more and sized down those jellyfishing glasses. His scrawny figure gained slightly more bulk and dressed in a more modern fashion. His hair remained the same; a bit shorter than before but still longer than most guys. You’ve always liked his hair. He would let you braid it sometimes when he was too distracted playing on his DS. He didn’t get acne like many of the other kids your grade either, skin smooth and clear. All the girls found him to die for. Your nonchalant behavior rubbed off on him and he became more confident in himself. Not letting his elementary school self be reflected into now. He became a bit too obsessed with his studies for a middle schooler; pushing all his ways on you. He would always follow you around blabbing about not attending gym class. He even started hanging around the same snotty rich kids he would complain to you about. You became annoyed. So you cut him off. Just like that. Stopped talking to him, answering his texts, not sitting with him at lunch or in class. Even after all the rejection at his advances, he came running back to you. Not willing to let you go so easily.

The school bell rings signaling the end of 4th pd and beginning of lunch. You were planning to go off campus today and not come back. Keys in hand you make your way to the student parking lot. However, someone’s blocking the exit. He’s gotten taller, about 6’2-6’3; sleeper build accommodating his height. Glasses thinner and sit perfectly on the bridge of his nose. Hair as long as ever, tyed back with that same white ribbon you gave him years ago; revealing an undercut. He fixes the collar of his button up and readjusts his tie and vest.

“And exactly…just where do you think your going?”

“To lunch,”

“The cafeteria is that way,” he points with a slender finger, decorated by a diamond ring. It shimers under the lights above reflecting against his matching earrings.

“Off campus,” he raises his eyebrow, folding his arms.

“Knowing you, you won’t come back. You do realize your request for a half day schedule is still pending right? You also recognize that I’m the one who assists the principal in granting them as well?” You don’t answer him, already knowing we're going with this.

“As I said before, your attendance needs improving before I-… we can grant it,” what a pain in the ass this guy is. You try to walk past him but he stops you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t eat school lunch. I’ll be back after,” he gives you an unamused look. Hand gripping your shoulder a little tighter as you try to take another step.

“You know I can’t let you do that. Not unless you don’t want a new schedule,” he pauses.

“Not unless I come with you,” you look up.

“You’re paying?” His eyes widened slightly, shocked at your willingness. But he can’t be too surprised, he knows you don’t care about anything unless you get what you want.

“Of course I am. You need to spend your money on other priorities; like a new math textbook,” you ignore the subtle jab and walk to his car. No need to ask where as he parks next to you everyday to make sure he knows you’ve actually show up. Definitely not because your the first thing he wants to see in the morning.

“I don’t understand why you come to McDonald’s of all places,” he lets out a sigh, handing his card to the drive through worker. He drives up to the next window waiting for the food.

“It’s not healthy. You seriously should consider my offer in taking you to that new place down the street,”. He looks over when he doesn’t get a response; noticing the music blasting from your headphones as you look at the door. He sighs again before taking the food from the workers hand and grabbing your headphones. You turn your head to look at him but your gaze shifts to the bag in his hand. You reach over and grab a fry out of the bag and he s his eyes. Pulling into the parking lot, he silently watches you eat. This brings him so much nostalgia. He misses eating lunch with you everyday. Ranting while you just sit there and chew. He misses having someone listening to him about something that’s not related to school. After you stopped *attempted* talking to him in the beginning of 7th grade, his heart felt like it got ripped out of his chest.

He’s never felt anything his whole life. His father would tell him that one day he’ll find someone who makes him feel everything, makes life worth it. He’d seen the love shared between his parents everyday. He always wanted that. In the fourth grade all of that came true. He saw you getting off the bus making your way to school. He saw the way you helped up Michael Lemitzki, a dorky little boy, after Conner pushed him down. Shaggy hair, braces lining his teeth, comic books all on the floor. How pathetic. You weren’t scared of Conner at all. He was bigger than you and more popular than you, but you didn’t care. You kept a straight face as he threatened you and held your composure. No emotion showing whatsoever.

He thought you were beautiful. It was love at first sight. He was too busy staring at you to hear his father calling out to him. He followed his son's gaze to you. He looked back down at the small boy and gave a knowing smile. Takenya just stared at the other boy hugging you with tears down his face. Why is he touching you like that? Push him away already! That day he purposely made himself a target to the bullying of Melissa and Conner. Hoping that one day, you’ll save him the same way you did Jacob. He got bigger glasses, grew his hair out, and started dressing like the typical “nerd”. He would leave candies in your cubby, prized limited edition Pokémon cards in your backpack, brand new color pencils and markers showed up around you. He started to lose hope though. Why haven’t you noticed him yet!? Sure he’s never actually talked to you.. but still! Could you not see his effort?! Did you not care? He sat alone at recess that fateful day. He was randomly pushed down, papers and crayons flying out his small hands. He wasn’t in the mood for Connors teasing today. To caught up on the fact that the love of his life may never see him they way he’s dreamed of. Oh the dramatic mind of a fifth grader. He clutched the safety scissors that flew out of his pencil pouch watching the dick of an elementary schooler turn around. He was about to get up but stopped as he saw someone bend down beside him. It was you! You helped gather all his things and placed them into his arms. His heart pounded in his chest and the blush on his face spread like wildfire. Before he could say anything you walked away. Taking your place on the swing set. He hurriedly put all his things away before trying to build up the courage to come talk to you. He took to long, however, as the teacher soon yelled for everyone to make their way into the line back to their respective class.

As he reminisces on the past, an alarm rings. Telling him that it’s time to make his way back to school. You’ve already finished all your food and somehow managed to take your headphones back.

“What?” You say snapping him out of his trance. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

“Nothing,”

You make your way back to the school and go your separate ways. He walks you to class ensuring that you get there. Out the corner of his eye he sees someone wave to you. Lemitzki. His hairs more well kept, ditched the glasses for contacts showing of his green eyes. He’s taller and has more muscles now. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the jagged line that makes it’s way across his right cheek, interfering with his dimple as he smiles. It’s been awhile, the scar healed well. The once clutzy boy looks at the door and freezes, hand dropping and going pale. There’s a silent stare off between the two before the late bell rings. Takenya makes his way to class, a slight smile on his face at a sudden memory.

Watching him walk away, a fist tightens. Little does he know someone was planning on getting their revenge.

Hi loves! I hope you guys enjoyed. Take is an OC of mine I’ve had for a while just never had a name for him until now. Like his concept was in my head foreverrrr. He might be a reoccurring character. I really like him. But I did put one shot so I’m not sure. Lemme know what y’all want. Check out this post below for a little more context. Hope you enjoyed.

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere childhood friend #yandere student council president

[coco-loco-nut]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Pairing: None

Summary: Being a woman in F1 has it's challenges, especially when you are constantly seen as a threat

A/n: McLaren history revision, actually, a lot of it might not make complete logical sense, just ignore that. i’m not great at angst

requests open masterlist ttpd masterlist

_________

You've scared everyone in the F1 world since you started driving in 2014 for McLaren, more dominant than Max Verstappen, the only driver other than Lewis Hamilton to challenge you. Your aggressive driving style and ability to get the most out of your car has lead you to three championships. Men don’t like that.

You are in a bit of a slump this year after moving to Mercedes, not having won one of the first three races, but you are poised for attack, ready to take your place at the top.

“Daddy, who’s that?” you hear a little girl ask as you walk to the paddock.

“Y/n L/n, we don’t like her,” his fragile masculinity practically yells the comment into your ears. With a smirk you look at the pair, walking over and bending to the little girls level.

“What’s your name?” you ask, your voice bordering on being sickly sweet.

“Sarah,” she squeaks, eyes wide with fascination. You remove your team hat and pull out a sharpie from your pocket, signing your hat.

“Don’t let any man tell you you can’t be better than the boys. You can do anything, you’re a girl,” you smile, putting the hat on her head. You wave over your assistant. “Get her sizes and buy her some team gear, charge it to me,” you tell the assistant, who eagerly nods. Of course, the F1 social team caught the incident and posted it.

“Y/n! How does it feel to be in a slump, as some are calling it? Some fans are even calling you washed. Quite sad isn’t it,” one reporter asks.

“You guys keep saying I am in a slump, or I’m being replaced by younger drivers. My bare hands paved their paths, you don’t get to tell me about sad. If you wanted my career to be dead so bad, you should’ve just said so,” you roll your eyes. Nothing makes you feel more alive than driving, but annoying the media is a close second.

“What about your move to Mercedes next year? Why switch?” another reporter asks. Couldn’t you just get to your motorhome without being hounded by reporters for once?

“It was a mutual decision, it was time for us to part,” you walk away, reflecting on the last few months.

You hadn’t planned your exit from McLaren to Mercedes, the scandal regarding your exit being contained by NDAs. You had punched one of the engineers who made a sexist joke at your expense. You promptly decided you didn’t want to be there anymore, especially when they didn’t fire the engineer.

“I feel bad that this is how it has to happen,” Zak said at the end of last season.

“You don’t get to tell me you feel bad, if you actually did he would’ve been fired and I wouldn’t have to leave,” You told him, visibly upset.

“It was one joke and he was reprimanded. You don’t have to leave,” Zak says, you sharply inhale.

“It wasn’t one joke. It had been ongoing for years, it’s a wonder it took me this long to break. What did you want me to do? Laugh until I cry?” you asked Zak, who seemed shocked.

“Then I truly am sorry, I’ll launch an investigation to see why it wasn’t reported to me before. You will have always have a friend here,” Zak tells you, a small comfort.

“Thank you,” you give him a small smile. You spend the whole offseason steeling yourself and working to be the best driver you can be. You stayed longer at the gym and sent more time on the sim.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Daniel asked one day over a glass of wine, he’s known you since you both were karting, and he’s watched you spiral the past few years. Daniel is your best, and one your few friends.

“It’s so hard being a woman in F1. I am a completely different person than I was before I joined,” Daniel doesn’t comment, he knows you felt like a caged animal so you acted like one.

“Why did you leave McLaren?” Daniel asks, knowing you wouldn’t leave unless there was a good reason.

“I signed an NDA, so you can’t share any of this. After I started at McLaren, an engineer was hired who would say sexist remarks all the time. Over time I stopped being nice and just got mean back, and I finally snapped. I gave him a nice right hook to his face,” you sip the wine, giving the shortened version. “Zak didn’t know, no one had reported the engineers behavior, so we signed NDAs and I left.”

“I’m sorry, That plus the media circus of being a woman in F1 can’t be easy,” Daniel sympathizes.

“That’s why I forced myself to be like this. If I can make myself seem untouchable, it doesn’t hurt as much. Being the villain is easier,” you tell him.

“So how will you approach Mercedes?” Daniel keeps you talking, knowing you need a good trauma dump.

“Lay low for the first couple weeks, let the drivers think they took out my claws, hung me to dry. It won’t be enough to ruin my season, but enough to catch them off guard. During the fourth or fifth race, I’ll leap from my gallows and crash their party, exposing the sexism within Formula One,” you smirk.

“The old ‘who’s afraid of little old me’ tactic,” he smiles, enjoying your plan.

“They should be afraid,” you say, explaining your interview with Suzie that is going to break the internet, after all, the NDA only kept you from talking about the punch.

Just like you predicted, the media and fans were divided. Some called for a public apology from McLaren and the FIA for the treatment of female drivers, most called you over dramatic, and said you only wanted to attention to distract from your poor performance and waning stardom. They said not everything is about you and the people who hurt you didn’t do it to hurt you.

You wanted nothing more than to argue back and show the media and fans just how disturbed they had made you, but Toto told you to let your driving do the talking. That race you said one thing to the media, “you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.”

“Chills, your interview was phenomenal. Thanks for citing me as one of your biggest supporters by the way. Scooch over, let’s see what insecure men are tweeting,” Daniel hands you a glass of wine and sits beside you on your couch, air playing his phone screen.

“I like that one, I’m always drunk on my own tears,” you laugh. Daniel logged into his spam account, letting himself reply to the haters.

“I like this one. Y/n L/n is the kind of person to sue you for stepping on her lawn,” Daniel laughs.

“The reply is better: she’s fearsome, wretched, and most importantly, wrong,” you both think of a funny reply.

You show up to the track and win, and win, and win, until you are holding the trophy for your fourth world championship.

In your post-championship interview with the F1 media team, you make what may be your biggest announcement yet.

“In the wake of people calling me crazy after sharing my experiences as a woman in motorsport, I’d like to make a very special announcement. I am who I am because you trained me to be like this, so to make sure no other girl has to go through what I did, I will be sponsoring two F1 Academy drivers with added mentorship and sponsorship opportunities. I’ve seen the work that Susie Wolff has done, and I cannot wait to help grow the presence of women in motorsport,” you say, sitting beside Susie.

“We will make sure she doesn’t terrorize the girls too much,” she jokes at your request.

“Who’s afraid of little old me?”

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #the tourtured poets department #who’s afraid of little old me #f1 x female driver