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harstyle · 4 months

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the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles series

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undercoverpena · 1 month

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1. tie the knot

javier peña x f!reader* | chapter one of let us pretend

summary: peña has been back in Texas for all of five minutes, thinking he wants a simple life. but, when steve offers him the chance to gather information on a potential new player, he jumps at the chance. the only problem is, to do so, he'll need to go undercover with a female agent—and pretend to be her husband.

wordcount: 4.6k chapter themes: fake dating/relationship/marriage, forced proximity / sharing one bed, colleagues to lovers, no use of Y/N, *female agent has a nickname (sunny) for use undercover. an: this week i am full of surprises. welcome to the world of let us pretend. this chapter might not feel different from htcu, but it is.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

It’s simple on paper. Easy. A thing he’s already a master in, something he has never found particularly difficult or hard: pretending.

Javi, after all, had had always been pretty good at concealing, at masking—

“Y’need to pretend to be married.”

Faking being a husband was a new one.

Having lived with far too many emotions for so long, it’s not hard for him to fake nonchalance.

Colombia had been his school. The place where he collected his degree—days of pretending he was okay. Hiding the fact he couldn’t sleep the horrors away, that he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. That stress wasn’t making him chain smoke and the pressure wasn’t making him sink his cock into women he couldn’t save.

He picked up his doctorate when he returned home. When ranch life had felt so fucking dull it made him want to pick the smoking habit back up, just for something to do. When he saw boats that made his insides twist, but found he had to wear a smile. Hiding, as expertly as he could, so he didn’t bristle each time someone called him a hero—when all he wanted was a drink, a fuck or a newspaper.

Mostly, Javi had become a master in squirrelling away the fact he saw every minute of the hours at night, feeling nothing short of relief when his alarm chimed so he could get out of his homemade prison.

Bluffing had always been a skill of his. But, this, this was new to him. His bluffing had never required him to wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“And, Jav. Try not to fuck her.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—or that he’s happy and content.

From the moment the two of them reunited, he took in the glow on his old partner’s skin (the one he strongly suspects isn’t just from the sun) and listened as he heard short (in Murphy’s opinion) stories about his daughter growing older.

Javi couldn’t relate—not that he’ll admit it. Just another thing he disguises. Smothers his face in what he assumes is what happiness looks like, wears it like an accessory, something akin to wearing a jacket, rather than actually feeling it.

Picking up a ring, rotating it between his thumb and finger, he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side sparks a grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot.

Because none of them look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Tricked in fact. Requested down here for an opinion, but when his worn-in soles landed in the office of his former colleague, it unravelled into something so much more.

Handed a file—one he knows everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javi knows better. Had known it too. Even suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

You don't just want me here for a consult, do you, Murph? Was hopin’ you were bored in Texas.

He suspects that’s why his Pop had given him an arched brow, an expression that was accompanied by pinched lips when he’d first mentioned it. Even his assurance that it’ll be a few days—just helping Steve out was met with a look Javi hadn’t banked on. Realising as he stood admiring wedding rings that his Pop had figured it out long before him.

At least now he understands why he got the Chucho-treatment—not quite quiet, but not quite the same treatment from him that he did the day before.

Instead, that kind of treatment that pierced itself into him, attempted to bury itself inside of him and made guilt flood through him like a poison.

Even if once before he would struggle with it, found himself desperate to apologise—make it up to his Pops—he didn’t this time. Because Javi already struggled. Already grown tired of itching for something.

So, he said nothing. Because he knows Murphy wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

Needing too.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation, suppressing a yawn.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, he’d been tired. Already beginning to fray at the edges, sleep had already become an even more distant friend.

All of it had been made worse by the worried look on Pop’s face when he dropped him at departures. It thickened, slathered itself on his shoulders even more so when he calls him from Murphy’s office to tell him it’ll be three months.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.” “Pop…”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain it all over again. From the top. All softly, with patience—the phone receiver leaving an indent on his cheek as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Reminding his Pop that this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few months, at most.

It didn’t shift the tone—didn’t stop Javi from imagining the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness over the phone, simmering in the miles of air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy situation.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand, pulling him back from his thoughts. “She’ll be here, alright.”

Javi snorts, swallowing.

Glancing back over another table, seeing other things, other accessories. Things that’ll help him blend, help the two of you blend. You and him, him and you—a person he knows the name of and nothing else.

Steve had shared that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust. That you knew the work so far better than anyone.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, blouse and black tailored trousers walking towards him.

It isn’t anything cliché.

Time doesn’t stop, the room doesn't silence, but something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters. Because instantly, Javi realises you’re pretty. A thought which confuses him, especially when it dawns on him that usually, it’s a woman's figure he notices and admires first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he lingers on.

And fuck do they cut into him.

Practically reach inside of him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, all at once, ceasefire. A chance to strengthen his façade as you turn to greet Murphy, a handshake, a sea of pleasantries. Enough chance to shove it down, whatever attempted to rise in him.

But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say, smirk sliding up into your cheek.

Your body suddenly turns to him, hand sticking out towards him, adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air and his body goes clammy, grows warm and makes him suddenly desperate for water, coffee or even whiskey.

Slipping his hand into yours, he’s not surprised to find that it’s soft, the right kind of warm. He’d suspected about as much from just appearances alone.

“Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you, Mr Peña.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he eyes you. “Think my wife should call me, Javi.”

Javi learns, rather quickly, that you have a nice voice.

It doesn’t grate, doesn’t annoy him—it’s informative, but there’s something else there, a playful edge, a little thing within you that hasn’t been crushed.

He remembers when he’d been as sprightly.

Rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm as he does, fingers desperate to clutch a pen, his jaw tightening as he thinks about how he could roll it in his fingers, hold it like he used to hold a smoke.

Fuck, he wishes he could chew his gum.

A thing which is slowly making him more tense.

Not that you seem to notice, too focused on getting him up to speed on the actual investigation. He’d read much of your notes before today, it was the next part he was more on edge by.

Because, whatever his earlier opinion of you was, he was getting the distinct impression you’d rather set your skin on fire than be fake married. A thing you stop trying to hide, your face displaying your disgust at it each time it is casually mentioned.

It was mandatory—Murphy’s words—for the two of you to get to know one another. A crash course, a 101 in the other. It’s told to you, that the two of you are going to be stationed in your new home for the next few weeks, starting from today. But, because they’re merciful—

“Wanted to make sure you had time to get to know one another. So, take the day—work can begin another day.”

“How nice of you, Murph,” he responds, words dipped in sarcasm. Briefly catching sight of you smirking as you study something on the table.

Javi had already imagined that—since it was recon, and more surveillance than anything else—for the most part, everything could remain the same. He learnt he was right moments later when it was confirmed his name would remain very much his own, and you were handed his surname like a gift you’d rather burn than accept.

It was you who had to surrender more.

“Y’need a new first name.”

If you were surprised, you didn’t show it. A sea of reasons given, the main one being if anyone asked around with a photo and your name, it would be easier to put two and two together. You lived here, for one.

You keep your eyes down, glancing over the table of possessions you’re allowed to borrow, to play dress up with. Fingers brushing over a watch (silver, a white face)—something haunting in your eye you’re quick to blink away when you meet Murphy’s stare.

Folding his arms, Steve sighs. “Jus’ something you’ll answer to. That can be used in public.”

Javi watches you smirk, something secretive, a hidden joke simmering between the two of you—leaving him very much out in the cold of it.

After a beat, you lick your lips.

“Sunny,” you reply, lifting your eyes, digging each syllable of the name you’re going to use into him.

“Let me guess you’re someone’s ray of sunshine?”

He doesn’t mean for it to fall out laced in bitterness, but it does all the same. His mouth tilted into a smirk, your eyes hardening as you placed down a pair of earrings you’d picked up.

“Think it’s more because of my sunny disposition.” He snorts, watching you move around the table. “It’s a family nickname—I’ve… I’ve always been called it, so, I’ll answer to it.”

Swallowing, Javi lets his eyes wander to the wall of the room.

“Alright, you two. You need to sell it, y’hear me?”

“Then we need money.” It’s short, stern, the way you deliver it, head tilted and face unreadable. “We’ll be sniffed out immediately without it. These people deal in money, not handsome faces.”

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

The roll of your eyes doesn't dispute it, not as you direct your attention back to Murphy.

Who, until now, Javi hadn't realised (with his hands on his hips) how big boss Murphy looked as he whispered fine, or how much it rather annoyed him. How it would be quite easy to give him a shove. More so when he’s handed a new phone, a set of documents, credit cards and given more instructions he wishes he could shove down his throat.

He almost gets close enough to do both when briefing ends and he’s handed the keys to the hotel suite they’d be living in—their story simple, easy:

“We have a fake house for you both being made ready as a cover story, but for now you’re both in the hotel. Prime location. Beach views, and very much in reach to the top places the targets visit.”

And, Murphy hadn’t been lying.

It did have good views, the suite was even nice—really nice.

Almost too nice for a little surveillance, a little fake marriage and a drug bust. But, he didn’t complain, barely said a thing in the ride over, or when you wheeled your own case. He even remained silent when you refused to look at him in the elevator or on the walk to the room, and even when the two of you entered.

In fact, the first words he said were: “You gotta try and look at me like you don’t wanna peel my skin off. You know, if you want this to work.”

He expects it; braces for it, the tongue lashing, an icy stare. Picturing you as the kind of woman who is already to sharpen your tools and pierce him with them when he blinks. But, you don’t.

If anything, Javi watches in slow motion as your shoulders sink, your cogs turning before your expression softens.

“You’re right—I’m… sorry.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nods. “There’s one bed.”

“Well. We can sleep in the same bed, Peña. We’re adults. However, for your sake, I’m going to put a pillow between us.” Your eyes sweep over him, cold, drowning him in a chill. “Two actually.”

“You a cuddler, or something?”

Smiling, you sigh. “No. The pillow is so that if you roll over all sleepy and desperate for some affection, I won’t have to cut you. Because if you touch me, that is what will happen.”

“How are we meant to sell we’re in love if I can’t touch you?”

“Oh, out there, you can touch me. In here, no.”

His snort rumbles from his chest. Tugged up, wrenched from some cobweb-filled depth, as you smile. Nothing big, nothing life-changing, but a start—the beginning of a level-playing field.

“What kind of touching, cariño?”

Jaw tightening, you smirk—but it’s cold.

He suspects you’re used to charm. Easily able to disable it, switch it off, unfazed by his gaze or the edge of his words. If anything, you seem really fucking bored of it—something he’s not sure if he admires or despises.

“Nothing like you used to pay for, Peña.”

Before he’s even recovered, he learns that you take things seriously.

Your bag opens, pulling out a notebook—upside down cursive etched over a page, your eyes scanning over it, before you ask if he’s ready. He’s barely able to ask for what, when you begin firing things at him.

Favourite food. Comfort film. Where did we meet? What song do you sing in the car when I’m not around? Are you allergic to anything?

The list goes on, and on. The more things continue to run out of your mouth, the more he begins to admire you—to settle into some comfort that you want to do this properly. That you’re going to take it seriously too, something he wants.

Needing it to matter.

Needing to have something work out easily, not have it all end for nothing.

The only time you pause is for a dinner—room service, his treat and his choice. A way of providing proof that he’d been listening, paying attention—somehow wanting to prove something to you, even if he’d known you for only half a day.

“So, how did Murphy get you on this?”

He studies the way you cross your leg over the other, the base of your heel tapping against the carpet—all very much guarded, on edge.

“You can tell it’s my first, can’t you?”

Javi smiles, making it softer purposefully. “A little.”

“He said you were good,” you sigh, placing your napkin down. “I assume I was chosen because it was easy. Y’know, than someone with… higher priorities. Plus, I already know the case. Guess it just made sense to send me.”

Nodding, he watches as you avoid his sight, focusing instead on the swirls in the carpet. Something ticking in your pretty little head, it forcing your nostrils to flare, for your jaw to tighten—and he’s watching it happen, practically feeling the air around you begin to vibrate from it all.

“M’not gonna let anything happen to you, Sunny. You know that right?”

That does it. Further digs in the hatred you’re feeling tenfold because the use of your new name makes you flinch. And he knows, like he had suspected earlier that it means more than just a name. Especially from the look on your face.

At first, your expression is soft, almost mask-less—no walls, no defence. Then, like magic, it shifts. It drapes down, rebuilds, and suddenly there within seconds, the same expression he’s been working with since introduction.

“I have heard how you take care of the women who work with you.”

Picking up your drink, and stirring the straw, you let your eyes meet his. The small wooden table suddenly even smaller—the large suite, suddenly constricting in a way he hadn’t expected so far.

“S’not what I meant.”

“I know.” It’s curt, your reply. Clearing your throat, you snort, “You are handsome. I can see why you did so well. And, I might not need to say this, but I need you to know I like my job, and I don’t require that kind of care.”

Rubbing his jaw, he sighs. “That so?”

“I have something that can help with that. It doesn’t talk. It doesn’t need to remind it that it’s ‘so big’, and it doesn’t need me to call it baby. It just hums—politely—and makes my thighs shake. I just need you to be with me in this.”

He snorts, draining the rest of his glass. The ice clangs just before he places it back down on the table. “You bring it with you, your something?”

Licking your lips, your mouth slides into your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve had told you his credentials—how he worked, how smart he was. How easily he was able to decipher a read on someone.

He did also mention much of Peña’s backstory—including his rich history with the opposite sex. A thing you hadn’t wanted to let escape out coated in catty and wrapped in bitchy. And yet, it had all the same.

You did want to get on with him, you admired him after all. Hearing the truths from Steve made the things that swirled like gossip even more impressive.

But, in all of the briefings you’ve had before agreeing to this, your boss had failed to mention that it wasn’t just the man’s tongue that got women to confess all their secrets, but his ridiculously handsome face too.

The one that keeps turning towards you—eyes concentrated in on you as though you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever had the chance to listen to.

But, it wasn’t just that. It’s that he’s quick-witted, observant, and it most definitely doesn’t help that he’s all broad shoulders and brown eyed. That, in part, you thought you could handle.

Then, he’d flirted.

On any other day, in any other place, you’re sure you’d have melted. Likely leant forward, elbow on your knee, tracing your bottom lip with your finger just to make his eyes drop to your mouth.

But, this isn’t any other day—it’s work, a job, one that requires him (in part) to be a flirt.

Clearing your throat, you smear on a smile. “You not tried to date since you’ve been home?”

His face hardens, just slightly.

It pinching, eyes more so than anywhere else—his smile falling, descending to a thin line as he traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, his eyes shift into an entirely different brown, an explosion of shades swirling—flecks of gold and sadness-infused umber.

“No.”

Nodding, you pick at some salad on the side of your plate. “Probably a good job—don’t need any angry people coming for me when I’m curled up on your arm.”

He snorts, but it doesn’t flutter over his face. His hand remains balled up, resting on the arm of the chair—something more there, prodding, needling him. He may be so easily able to read you, but you’re sure he’s about as clear as a warm day himself.

Landing his gaze back on you, you feel it linger, hover—before it begins to slip down from your eyes, landing somewhere at your neck, before the buttons off your shirt. Something warming inside of you, flooding out, spreading across your skin as you try your damnest to level your breathing.

“Got any more questions?”

“Plenty,” you reply, almost catching the y on your teeth before placing a light smirk out over your lips, letting it move across your face.

Gesturing, Peña licks his lips and so you begin with more. Not needing the book now, just working your way through the things which populate, which appear like bubbles he bursts with his answers.

He’s open about some things more than others. The two of you covering family quickly, childhoods even quicker. You both discreetly avoid too many details of Colombia, about the things you’d already heard in chunks from your superior.

Your 101 beginner class in your new husband proving to be easier to understand than your field handbook—although, you supposed the intermediate and expert levels to him would be far harder to crack.

He’s unmarried, not dating—there’s his dad, a sea of distant family and a town full of people whom his father would class as family. You suspect some guilt there, it layered between the conversation on his dad, and the one which followed when you’d asked if the ranch would be okay without him.

“—My Pops has had help for a long time. One of them has been promoted. He… He works there full time now.”

Even if he had tried to say it simply, it was laced in bitterness—not from jealousy, you suspect from the sadness that had poisoned over time. A well stuffed with things which had rotted and gone mouldy over time.

Upon sight of him this morning, you had known you’d need to be clever, smart—find ways to compartmentalise it all. Because, when he traces his nose with his finger, when his eyes widen a little more than normal—coffee-brown all but drowning you—you had known it would be hard otherwise.

Something there, niggling, piercing through.

“Any lovers I need to be aware of?”

Smiling, you slide your feet from your heels, pulling your legs up more, swallowing. “No, you’re good.”

“Any potential risks I need to be aware of—anyone who’ll call into question your new name?”

Your stomach knots, uncomfortably so. A thing balling inside of you, that same fear you’d been plucking at for days—ever since Steve had suggested your name, thrown it out on the conference table with a bunch of greedy eyes seated around it.

“No, I… you have nothing to worry about.”

He looks at you, lets it hover, hold. Something there, trying to disguise itself in the way he narrows his eyes a fraction, in the way his lips pinch together—the way his brain seems to whir like a fan that can be heard even across the table.

When you yawn, he makes a move to tidy up the plates for the tray—batting your hand away. “I’ve got it, cariño.”

“Cariño?”

Your cheeks are warm, more so under his stare. Easily able to smother it the first time, but found it difficult the second. It’s all wide, blooming—it tracing your eyes before it sweeps back to the tray.

“Gotta call my wife something original, special.”

“I’m hardly special, Peña.”

“If I’ve married you, you’re special.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you say nothing.

Something churning, a horribleness that you know stems from the fact this isn’t real. None of it. The niceness, the ring on your finger—the one your finger slides up your palm to brush over, to trace.

The one which didn’t have a home there this morning, but now sits like it’s always supposed to. Your stare on his back as he goes to the door, pushing the metal tray, the jingling of plates and glass sounding out as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

It continues to hammer when your back flattened against the bathroom door—safe amongst marble, mirrors and an array of complimentary products which covered most of the sink.

Only as you begin to undress and change for bed, does it lessen, does your composure return back to you. The mask which you so delicately applied, the one which had taken more words of encouragement in your bathroom mirror this morning than you’d thought.

Because, it isn’t that you thought you couldn’t do this—but rather why would you?

This isn’t your expertise. Not your usual field of knowledge. The last time you’d even been on a date had been at least over a year ago, and the last time you’d lived with a man had been so long ago you were worried you’d wake tomorrow and learn you have habits you weren’t aware of.

Did you kick in your sleep?

Did you grind your teeth?

“Cariño?” Peña calls out, knuckles tapping on the door. “You good in there?”

No, you want to reply. Hands gripping the sink basin, staring at your makeup-less face and the nightie he was about to see you in.

“Yeah,” you call out, washing your hands, and flushing the toilet before unlocking the door, and emerging.

He’s polite enough to not drink you in, even if you're sure he’s craning his neck not to do so.

“Look. Before you crack your neck from not doing so.”

Smirking, he traces his fingers across his chin, before slowly dropping his eyes.

And you feel them.

Warm. Hot. Sliding over your neck, collarbone, down the silk which covers your chest, abdomen and most of your thighs, before he’s running his vision back up.

“Better?”

“Nice legs.”

Narrowing your eyes, you straighten your spine. “Try not to dream about them, and Peña?”

He hums.

“Try to remember you’re not actually married, don’t want you falling for the fantasy we’re putting on. Hate to break your heart.”

Leaning against the doorframe, staring at you, you somehow manage to level your breath. “If it’s you breaking my heart, Sunny. I might just let you.”

Your mouth almost falls open. Almost.

Something you think he's aware of from the way he smiles, from the way he drinks you in before he whispers about getting passed.

Then, you're alone.

Filling your lungs with a breath, staring around the room not sure how you're going to make it a week not cracking, never mind more.

CHAPTER TWO ->

AN: thank you for letting me tell the story how i always envisioned. your kindness is appreciated.

440 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

My birthday is in like 2 weekd (the 13th) so I just wanted to make a quick request before I forget :)

Can you write a poly!marauder x reader when it’s readers birthday and she doesn’t have enough time to celebrate so they throw her a surprise party at like midnight?

Hi lovely! Hope I timed this right with the time zones and all, but if I did, happy birthday! Hope you're enjoying it despite your time constraints :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 718 words

When you get home from your shift, your hair is greasy, your feet are sore, and you’d normally be ready to collapse into bed but tonight you’re buzzing with excitement despite the late hour.

The thing is, you’re a birthday person. It’d be easier if you weren’t, because unlike some of your friends who get to celebrate on school breaks or take time off work, you were born smack in the middle of nearly the busiest time of the year. It’s almost like it was prophetic; you were predestined to be in a rush before you’d even left the womb.

Still, you’re excited for the little things you do get to do to celebrate. James is baking you a cake, and thought you don’t have time for anything on the actual day—tomorrow—you’ll probably go out for a small belated birthday dinner next weekend. It’s not everything you could ever want and more, but it’s what you can do, and it’ll still be fun.

The house is quieter than you’d expect as you shuck off your shoes. Normally at least Sirius would still be up, but you suppose it is pretty late. Your boyfriends were undoubtedly tired from their own days at work. You shrug off your coat, and suddenly every light in the house is turned on.

“Surprise!” The collective shout nearly knocks you over, but James appears behind you, laughing as he steadies you by the waist.

“Whoa, babe, did we getcha?” he asks.

“I—what?” You shake your head, gawping at your friends, who have materialized all around your living room. “What are you all doing here?”

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Sirius says, coming over to secure a party hat on your head. “We all know you haven’t forgotten your own birthday.”

“But—I—it’s tomorrow,” you stammer helplessly, getting past your shock but unable to accept that this is really happening. It’s too good to be true.

“Not anymore.” He rolls his eyes at you, but his touch is fond as he adjusts the strap of the hat under your chin, knuckle brushing your cheek. “It’s past midnight, babydoll.”

“You’re old now,” Marlene says, holding a plastic cup up as if toasting to the fact.

Sirius hums, peering closer at your face. “She’s right. I think I see wrinkles.”

Your laugh comes loud and sharp, and James’ arms snake around your waist, drawing you back into him. “Oi, leave the birthday girl alone,” he objects.

“We’re all younger than you, Pads,” Remus reminds him, coming from over by the kitchen to bring you a drink. You take it with a smile, and he pecks you on the cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” You beam, feeling blood rush to your cheeks at all the attention. “Thanks for doing this, you guys, this is…just, beyond nice of you.”

“It’s no problem.” James gives your middle a squeeze. “Figured if we couldn’t do anything during the day, a midnight celebration was the way to go, you know?”

“Oh, don’t take all the credit for yourself,” Sirius argues, pinching at James’ side so he yelps and covers his body with yours. “All he did was make the cake, Moony and I did everything else.”

“And by Moony and I, he means that he picked out what he wanted and I made it happen,” Remus says drily, though the look he gives you is soft as mush. “I’m glad you like it, though, lovely girl.”

“I really do,” you say, cheeks hurting from the force of your smile. “Thank you so much.”

Remus smiles, and James rests his chin on your shoulder, fondness oozing from all three of your boyfriends.

“Alright,” Lily says, “if you guys wanted y/n to yourselves, you shouldn’t have invited the rest of us.”

“Hear hear!” Marlene hoists her cup up, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. You think you see Remus wince for your couch. “Shall we have cake and sing?”

“Absolutely!” James declares, hands sliding to your hips for one good squeeze before he releases you, heading into the kitchen. “Wait until you all see my masterpiece. This is what I should have done for a living.”

“You’ll want to prepare yourself, gorgeous,” Sirius whispers to you. “I saw it in the fridge earlier. It’s a monstrosity.”

“Be nice,” Remus murmurs. “He tried his best.”

407 notes · View notes

bunny-xoxo · 8 months

Text

Take It Slow

MINORS DNI

Yuuta Okkotsu x afab!reader

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): established relationship, friends to lovers implied, heavy petting, fingering, masturbation, oral (reader receiving), choking (reader receiving), instance of breath play as a result, slight corruption kink from Yuuta, inexperienced reader, a single instance of slightly mean Yuuta, reader’s chest anatomy is not referenced/described

a/n: first NSFW piece in a VERY long time, was picked from the poll so here you go! hope you all enjoy :)! Also jus wanna say there is NOTHING weird or wrong about being a virgin at any age just so you guys know <33 🫶 also in case it needs to be said, this is an unrealistic portrayal of participating in kink for the first time! Boundaries and safety should be discussed at length before these things, but this is fiction so just wanted to make that clear 😭🤍 anyways enjoy <3

“Yuuta, stop! I don’t wanna talk about it!” You whined and buried your face further into his chest hoping to spare yourself of the embarrassment from the conversation you’re sure the two of you are about to have.

“Sweetheart, I’m your boyfriend, you knew it was gonna come up sooner or later. Besides, you’re literally the one who started the conversation! There’s no way you’re getting out of it now.” He let out a few boyish chuckles as he tried to pry your face away from him and out of the covers, just to see you pressing your lips together and closing your eyes in protest.

Sure, did you figure at some point the fact you haven’t gone farther than holding hands and sharing a few quick pecks was gonna be brought up? Probably. Especially after 4 whole months of being in a relationship? Maybe. Did you think it’d be right now? No! But is it your fault? Unfortunately, yes.

You’d known Yuuta long before the two of you started dating, having been apart of his friend group since freshman year of high school, and you’ve always had a secret crush on your friend. He was kind, never failed to make you smile, charmingly awkward (so charming you almost thought he faked it), & all things endearing. It wasn’t until a few months ago, now in your fourth and final year at University, that the two of you had confessed your feelings for the other. You had a bottle of tequila and Maki to thank for that.

And honestly, it couldn’t have been more perfect since. He was still sweeter than ever, a complete gentleman always, and even though it’d only been a couple months he’s never failed to make you constantly feel cared for and appreciated. There was only one problem: how were you supposed to tell him you’ve lied about every instance of you hooking up ever? And you haven’t even done so much as grind on someone, let alone fuck?

Maybe you could blame it on Yuuji, he’s the one who brought it up the first time anyways, innocently teasing you about how “you probably don’t even know how to give head”. He was 16, and all 16 year old boys are stupid as shit - besides Yuuta you suppose - so you’ll forgive him for it.

“Fuck you Yuuji, you’re just saying that cause you’re embarrassed you can’t last longer than 10 seconds inside a girl.”

“That literally happened once, and it was my first time! What, you’re telling me your first time was any better?”

It was just humiliating to think of looking at your friends, who definitely weren’t virgins anymore (besides Toge, maybe Toge, you never really trusted his whole story - but that’s beside the point), and tell them yeah no, I haven’t even seen a dick in person!

“No, he was ass, too.” You did your best to not draw attention to the way your palms were sweating profusely, fighting every instinct in you to wipe them off on the denim of your jeans.

“Yep, fits the bill.” Mai rolled her eyes at the thought of her own experience with a man, must’ve been pretty bad.

It’d make more sense to blame it on your age than Yuuji really, looking back it wouldn’t have been embarrassing for more than a couple weeks at most to have admitted you were a virgin when the matter was pressed. But that’s not what past you thought, and now it’s current you’s problem.

“I know, I know, but now I change my mind. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Your lips are pushed out and puckered slightly from the way Yuuta has your cheeks squished together - his best effort at making you smile right now.

He lets go of your cheeks to squeeze your shoulder gently, looking at your face for a moment before speaking softly.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’d never judge you for anything, make comments, nothing. Swear on it.” His voice dipped low with sincerity as he dramatically “crossed his heart and hoped to die”, it was a little goofy but that’s okay.

It was hard to speak while he was staring down at you like that, you knew he’d be nothing but gentle and kind, but the thought of actually talking about it made your stomach twist ‘n turn.

“Uh”, your voice trembled more than you’d like to admit and it did nothing to help your nerves, “I guess I asked what you’d do if I lied about not being a virgin cause, I’m, like, a virgin. Yeah.” You might’ve stumbled through your sentence, but you got there eventually.

His hand continued to rub circles on your skin as he spoke, “Well, I kind of figured that much when you first asked that, cause why else would you. Is that all you wanted to tell me though?”

Glancing up to meet his eyes, you were confused, visibly confused. Was that it? Was he really not gonna pester about why you lied, when you lied, or why you’re grown and still a virgin?

You squinted your eyes and hummed quietly, unreasonably suspicious of him - which he could clearly see.

Rolling his eyes playfully, he groaned out your name and pulled your face close to his so you couldn’t escape him even if you wanted to.

“Ya know, I was kind of talking about the first question you asked me. The one before you cut me off and changed the subject with the whole ‘I’m a virgin thing.’ I want to talk to you about that.”

You’re sure you were listening, it’s just that his face was so close to you that his breath was intermingling with yours, and you could practically taste the gum he was chewing while studying earlier. Not only that but his eyelashes were so pretty and doll like from this angle, looking up at him with his hands still on your cheeks. And his hands were so warm and soft - or was your face warm?

“Are you really ignoring me right now?” He wondered where your mind wandered to, cause clearly with the way you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes and invisible stars circling around your head - you couldn’t have been listening to him.

“Huh?”

Yeah, you definitely weren’t listening to him.

“Baby, are you okay with talking about what you asked me earlier? It’s okay if the answer is no.” His eyes were glued to your face as your own darted around the room.

You wanted to speak up but your throat was dry and your face was hot, and honestly it felt like your jaw was wired shut; a simple nod will have to do.

It felt like the room was getting smaller at the lack of a response from Yuuta until you felt him lean just a tad closer and gently press his lips to your cheek, “would you rather me show you how I take care of myself, or tell you?”

Oh.

Goosebumps rose along the back of your neck and down your arms at the soft volume of his voice in your ear and the way his breath fanned across your cheek.

“Both, please.” The tenor of your voice matched his as your hands fiddled nervously with the hem of your shirt, unsure what to with them while he moved to give you a kiss and sit up in front you.

The embarrassment of how you asked Yuuta how to give a hand job from earlier began to fade and be replaced with curiosity and eagerness at the sight of Yuuta reaching down to palm at himself.

It was still embarrassing, staring so shamelessly at his growing bulge in obvious intrigue and desire, but it was Yuuta, and Yuuta would never make you feel bad for having human urges and wanting him in this way.

Hesitantly, once he was ready, he tugged at the fabric of his pajama pants until he was fully exposed. He was happy you were so needy and awe struck at the sight of him, because your undivided attention to the way his cock sits in his hand is making him blush.

He spreads his legs just as much as the stretch of his bottoms let him while he dips forward to drip spit in the direction of his lap, his wrist catching the fabric of his shirt and exposing a tease of his lower stomach as he spreads the spit along the length of his cock. Leaning back into a more comfortable position, you take in the way he’s exposed himself to you, his stomach visibly clenching as he rubs his thumb along the slit at the tip of his cock.

It was firm in his hand, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together from where you sat watching at the vulgarity of it all. His loud and unashamed whimpering, his leaking and twitchy cock, and the way his eyes were never closed, always watching your face, when you would flick your own up to get a peek at his reactions.

You thought maybe he’d be a little more bashful, slow and careful with what he wanted to show you, but if anything, it seems like he’s been waiting for you to ask.

“You like watching me stroke my cock, hm baby?”

Your clit began to throb at the sudden recognition and reminder that you’re involved just as much as he is, as well as the sound of him speaking, and speaking directly at you.

“Answer me angel, even a nod’s okay. Wanna make sure my baby’s feeling good.” His voice was hoarse, but soft, and the sentiment did nothing more than increase your arousal and send butterflies rampant in your stomach.

Settling further into the situation, and gaining some confidence in return, you make your way over to him slowly as you nod your head.

“Want you to tell me, Yuuta.” Your voice is small, quiet.

“Tell you what, pretty?”

He’s got an air of fake innocence around him as he speaks but you couldn’t care less when you’re so close that you can hear his soft and barely audible panting, and smell the light scent of musk and sweat begin to gather along his clothed skin from his excitement and exertion. You’d give him anything he wants at this point, and you’re certain he knows it.

“Yuuta,”, you whine and move in his direction, hovering over his lap with his cock not quite close enough to press against your covered cunt as he strokes himself, “want you to tell me how it feels.”

The pair of you groan together at the lewdness of it all, both of you reveling in the freedom to finally explore your deep attraction for another, no longer embarrassed or fearful to admit or indulge in it.

“Fuck, feels so good baby. ‘M so hard with you watching me like this. You like knowing you’ve got me and my cock this needy without even touching me?” Whining at his response, you lean into him and sloppily place your lips on his, ignoring the urge to smack him on his chest as he chuckles a, “yeah?”, into your mouth at your eagerness.

You both kiss, messy and loud, as you reach and drag your hand down his torso, lightly drawing circles onto Yuuta’s exposed lower stomach with your fingertips.

A strained groan comes from him at the sensation, sighing into your mouth as he sits up to be impossibly closer to you. It was all too much.

He could feel the heat from your body as your thighs squeeze him from each side, hear the crude noises your pussy makes each time you adjust, and he could just imagine how needy your poor cunt would smell. Feeling his stomach tighten and his head get cloudy, he knew he was close, and he wanted you to watch.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come baby.” Yuuta’s lips were soft and slick with spit as he spoke against yours, while you felt a hand slide from the back of your neck up to the top of your head, turning you to face down and stare at the way his fist was feverishly tugging at his cock.

“Want my sweetheart to watch how hard they’re gonna make me come, how good they’re taking care of me and my cock.” His voice was strained and low, out of breath, and if you weren’t desperate to watch his cock get some release, you would have protested at the sudden lack of kissing.

“Please, need you to show me baby.” You whined and wrapped your hand around Yuuta’s wrist gently, moving in time with the way he was stroking himself.

Hearing your voice was all he needed to let himself go, throwing his head back and getting his sternum sticky with cum as it stained his t-shirt. His balls and cock twitched as he slowed down his movements, whining when he rubs the tip once more, not wanting it to be over. If it wasn’t for the way you were still hovering over his lap, he would’ve let himself stay like this for a while longer, catching his breath and resting his eyes.

But he could see how bad you needed him, your chest heaving and your body hot against his.

Pulling you into his chest, he speaks against your shoulder softly between gentle kisses, “Want me to take care of you too, baby?”

Your body jolts at the prospect, nerves riddling your muscles and your stomach, making you feel almost weak. The thought made you self-conscious just as much as it made you feel exhilarated, but you couldn’t deny the way your cunt was throbbing and hot. You needed him bad, and you could trust Yuuta. You always could.

Words were too hard, like they often were with him in intimate moments like this (the thought of your first date briefly crosses your mind), so you substitute a pleading “yes” for another messy, longing kiss.

“I got you angel,”, was all he said before you were leaned back on the pillows, Yuuta hovering above you with soft wisps of his hair tickling the sides of your face.

You knew you could trust Yuuta, he always knows what his baby needs.

Delicate fingers graze across your side until they reach the waist band of your bottoms, running back and forth along the top as Yuuta chuckles softly at the way your stomach twitches, waiting for a sign of permission.

A warm hand tugging Yuuta’s in the direction of your heat is all he needs before sliding his hand between your thighs to rub heavy and slow circles onto your clit beneath your shorts.

“Oh, god.” You breathe out and close your eyes, letting him take his time in making you feel good.

Your hole ached every time he dipped a finger down to tease your entrance, gathering more of your arousal to rub into your puffy clit. He was such a tease even when he didn’t mean to be, couldn’t he tell you needed him inside? Can’t he imagine how empty your poor hole feels? Doesn’t he know how often you’ve fucked yourself with your fingers or favorite toy, imagining it’s really him inside instead?

“Yuuta.”

The desperate call of his name makes his stomach flip, eyes quickly searching across your face for a sign of discomfort, “‘M here baby, what do you need?”

Sitting up slowly, your face stops inches from his as you shimmy your way out of your bottoms. Laying back down, you open your legs wide and spread your pussy for Yuuta to see, another hand rubbing at your clit slowly.

“‘S too empty, baby.” You fight back the hot wave of embarrassment that floods your body at your crudeness and use all your will power to stay still, cunt on full display, as you watch Yuuta’s breath quicken and his hand snake down to tug at his cock again despite the slight sensitivity he’s still feeling.

He doesn’t give you much time to linger on your sheepishness before you’re tugged further down the bed by the grip he takes on both of your thighs, his tongue impatiently shoved into your mouth with a loud whimper. You both stay like this a little while longer than you would have liked, his tongue running along the inside of your mouth before he has yours between his lips, switching between sucking on it loudly and licking at the saliva that drips down onto your chin.

God, he was so dirty.

Unable to beg for more, you attempt to wrap your legs up and around his midsection, hoping he’ll catch the hint, but instead you’re stopped by a firm placement of his hand on your inner thigh.

“‘Scuse me, beautiful.” His voice is hoarser than before as he speaks softly against your neck, leaving hasty kisses on any exposed skin while scooting down the bed, landing with his face between your legs.

You could have cried when you felt his tongue poke and prod at your hole, pushing in and moaning loudly before licking long and slow up to your clit. His tongue flicks back and forth as he keeps your lips spread with one hand, deciding to then take his time licking and dragging his tongue between every fold before coming back to suck on your clit.

A strangled groan vibrates deep within your chest as you tug on his hair to bring him impossibly closer to your cunt, as if he needed to devour you whole, while you no longer fought the way your hips were grinding down and writhing beneath Yuuta’s grip. It’s not until you finally feel a finger push inside, slender and slow, that you begin to incoherently beg and whine for more.

It doesn’t take many half-spoken pleas for him to get the idea you need more.

“Ah, Yuuta!” You whimper and internally battle between trying to squirm away and press yourself even further into his mouth, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his two fingers inside pumping in and out of you with his mouth nipping and sucking at your clit.

He sits up, kneeling between you to watch the way you take what he’s giving you.

“Yeah?”, his voice is uncharacteristically cocky and out of breath, “Feels good, baby?”

He was going to be the death of you.

If it wasn’t for the way Yuuta was placed between your thighs, your efforts to clamp them shut would be working. It was all too much, but so fucking good.

“Ah- fuck, oh, oh my god - Yuuta please make me come. Wanna come so bad!” You arch your back and attempt to sit up to reach him, needing him closer, but a hand on your chest pushes you back down and slides up until it rests wrapped around your throat.

“Mmm, I’ll give it to you baby, just want you stay right there. Wanna see what you look like when I make you finish for the first time.” His hand wasn’t holding tight, it was merely keeping you in your spot beneath him, but you wanted him to grab you tighter.

With a shaky hand, you reached to hold onto his wrist like your life depended on it,

“Please choke me.”

His fingers stopped curling into you for maybe a second before he continued, his mouth parting slightly as a gentle moan fell from his lips.

Did you really just ask him that?

You closed your eyes in bliss when he squeezed gently, instinctually doing your best to grind down onto his hand, but it wasn’t enough.

“T-tighter, please.”

It took everything in you to open your eyes and see his reaction, a slight amount of shame building up in your stomach for requesting something that felt so dirty - but all embarrassment fizzled out where it sat when you saw the way he was staring down at you.

Nothing was said as he squeezed you tighter and tighter until you let out a choked moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Tap me twice if it’s too much.” You’re not sure when he leaned down to speak lowly to you, but his breath fanning across the side of your neck and face sends chills down your body.

You’re so lost in the pleasure of it all you can only nod when he takes your hand to show you exactly how he wants you to tap against his wrist if you can’t take it anymore.

He sits back up and smiles to himself as he takes you in. You look so.. so.. so pathetic like this. And what, all because he’s got two of his fingers fucking your pussy? Cause he’s the first person to ever make you feel this way?

The latter thought makes his dick twitch and pick up the pace of his fingers until even you can register the crude squelching coming from between your thighs. Thankfully for you, you’re too full of bliss to care - fuck you were so close, and he knows it, too.

Your eyes shoot open when his grip is tightened even more, making it so you can only take in shallow and shaky breaths.

“Gonna have to come around my fingers if you want me to loosen up.” It wasn’t a question of how much you could take, it was a matter of how far you wanted him to go to make you see stars. And apparently this was it with the way he could feel you clench around him at his words, your thighs starting to thrash and shake.

“Fuck, you’re so dirty. My dirty little cunt, huh?” His voice was so misleadingly soft. His register was still high, slightly whiny, but you knew it was all to mock you and your fucked out state. If anything, Yuuta was the one being so dirty, and you were thankful for it.

It was hot, so hot, and you could hear your heart pounding in your head, and you could feel how tight you were clenching around his fingers.

Unable to fight off the feeling and attempt to last a second longer, your body shook as you came hard around Yuuta’s fingers, your nails digging into the forearm of the hand still wrapped around your throat. He kept it there for a brief few moments into your orgasm before letting go to immediately bring his fingers down to your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm for as long as you could handle.

The first full breath you took was loud and followed by an even louder mantra of thank you’s and please’s. It took a soft and slow kiss from Yuuta to quiet your whimpers, and warm, and undeniably semi-sticky hands, rubbing tenderly into your thighs and arms.

You both stayed like that for a while, Yuuta above you with his hands rubbing your muscles carefully, kissing slow and catching your breath while sharing gentle sentiments of love and reassurance. Much to your surprise, you were the first to speak a full sentence as you both relaxed into a more comfortable position.

“Ya know”, your voice had a slight hoarseness to it now, most likely from your earlier activities, “I don’t think I like knowing someone else has gotten to see you like this.”

He brings his head up to rest on his palm with a crooked smile, leaning forward until his lips ghosted over yours as he spoke,

“Yeah? You the jealous type baby?”

This time, you did smack him. And hard.

“Ow?” Yuuta pouts, pretending to be appalled, and rubs circles into his chest as if you had actually smacked him hard enough to feel like anything more than a friendly pat.

His request for an apology is brushed off and amended with a kiss, from which you receive no protest, as you sink further into the comfort of his embrace and, now dirty but once very clean, sheets.

“How about we clean up n get some rest, okay baby?” He sounds distant and quiet when he speaks, his heartbeat louder in your ears than his voice with your head pressed into his chest.

Sighing and shaking his head, he leans down to kiss the top of your head with a small smile. Laundry and a shower can wait a few more minutes if it means he gets to have you like this for even a little bit longer.

——————

taglist: @plutowrites @alert-arlert (I think you asked to be tagged in this??? If not I’m sorry !! This was like a literal year ago I started this so 😭🫶) @touyaz (only cause you liked the snippet 🤭) if you’d like to be added just lemme know!!

#tw choking #tw breath play #jjk smut #yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta okkotsu smut

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janeyseymour · 2 months

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Love Thy Neighbor one shot where ellie calls mel mom for the first time in front of all the abbott family, maybe she gets sick at school and calls for her mom and when reader and mel show up she refuses to got with reader and they realize it’s mel she’s talking about

bestie. i got you.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Title Change

WC: ~2.65k

Every year, right around the holidays, Ellie gets sick with whatever is running rampant through the school. And every year, you absolutely dread that time. It could be just the stereotypical, run of the mill fever, but it could also be the flu, a stomach bug, strep throat, pneumonia, pink eye… the worst was right before you moved out of Utah and she ended up with croup and in the hospital overnight. You’re pretty sure you’ll never be able to get the images or sounds from that experience out of your head. Seeing your little girl down for the count is so hard for you, and it doesn’t get any easier as she gets older- she’s still the same little love bug that you remember fussing over when her temperature ran a bit too high for your liking and she would fall asleep at a moment’s notice on your chest.

This year, she gets sick without fail, although you hate to admit that neither you nor your girlfriend had picked up on it when you brought her with you to school today. Her cheeks were a bit rosy this morning as you walked into Abbott, yes- but this December has been particularly cold so far and she had insisted on running around in her t-shirt and shorts this morning despite the fact that the living room was a crisp 65 degrees this morning when you woke up. And then on top of that, you were running a bit late and didn’t get your usual parking spot close to the front of the school.

Your little girl had been adamant that she stay attached to Melissa’s hip while the three of you sat in the staff lounge before everyone else comes in, which is not an uncommon occurrence. It’s warm and peaceful until Janine comes in with cookies for her students, and inevitably one for your daughter. Ellie begs you to let her have it, and you chuckle before relenting. It turns out that was the last think she needs because she’s running circles around the shorter second grade teacher within five minutes. Thankfully though, the time comes where the child high on sugar is no longer you’re problem- she’s now her teachers problem. The two of you walk her down to her first grade classroom before the rest of the kiddos trickle in.

“Be a good girl today, little miss,” you crouch down and open your arms.

Ellie’s arms are around your neck and squeezing you tight. “I always am, Momma.”

“I know, but I’m just reminding you,” you chuckle as you kiss her forehead. It’s a bit warm, but nothing that is too alarming. You release her, and it’s your girlfriend’s turn.

“Love you, kiddo,” Melissa embraces your daughter.

“I love you too,” the seven year old sighs as she rests her head on the second grade teacher’s shoulder for a few seconds. And then she’s bouncing into her classroom and greeting her teacher with the gusto that only a little girl who had a cookie at seven in the morning could have. You and the redhead chuckle as you watch before you loop an arm around your girlfriend and walk down to your little corner of the hallway.

“Did she feel a little warm to you?” Melissa asks you quietly.

You shrug. “A little, but she was also running circles around Janine not five minutes ago.”

“I guess,” she says softly. “I just know you said she always gets sick right before the holidays, and with everything going around…”

“God,” you groan. “I’ve had five kids out at the minimum everyday this week. I’m praying to God Ellie doesn’t get sick for break.”

“Knock on wood,” Melissa sighs as she knocks against her door. “But if she does get sick, we’ll be here for her.”

“Until I get sick with it too because she insists on laying on me,” you quip quietly.

The redhead kisses your temple. “And I’ll be here to take care of you.”

“It’s still insane to me that you haven’t been sick in over ten years.”

“It’s one of the few benefits I get for being in this germ breeding ground for so long,” Melissa chuckles.

Your kiddos come in and start on their morning work, and all is fine and normal until your classroom phone starts to ring. That’s unusual. Nobody ever uses the classroom phones because your crew will just call or text your personal phone, or they’ll just make the trip down to your end of the hallway. Honestly, the only people who really use the classroom phones are… the nurses.

“Hello?” you answer, and you pray to God it’s the nurse calling about the student that you had just sent down to the nurse’s office five minutes ago. But June comes walking back into the classroom right on time to confirm that this phone call isn’t about her.

“Hey.” It’s Ellie’s teacher.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to call and ask if Ellie was feeling okay when you brought her into school today?”

You exhale a heavy breath. “She was running around the apartment this morning singing Frozen and ran circles around Janine in the lounge this morning, so I would say so. Why?”

“Poor thing’s been shivering at her desk for the last twenty minutes while we’ve been doing word work,” your coworker says quietly. “I asked her if she had a sweater with her, but she said she left it with you.”

“Send her down,” you tell the woman.

“Will do,” the first grade teacher nods into the phone. “Thanks.”

Ellie appears in your doorway a few minutes later. Your third graders immediately start cooing over how adorable she is.

“Hey, baby girl,” you smile at her from your place at the front of the room. “Come to get your sweater?”

She nods before coughing a bit. You frown a bit, the lines in your forehead etching their way into your face. You tell your students to work through the next math problem while you attend to your little girl.

As you help her pull on her sweater, you whisper to her, “You feeling okay?” You press your hand against her forehead, and then her cheeks, and then her neck. She does feel warmer than she had earlier this morning.

“Jus’ cold,” Ellie mumbles.

“Okay, baby,” you sigh softly. “Well, you tell your teacher if you aren’t feeling well, and I can always take you home, yeah?”

“I’ll be okay, Momma,” your daughter tells you. “I’m tough like… like Mel.”

You chuckle a bit before kissing her head. “Okay, sweetness. But still, if you aren’t feeling well, that’s okay.”

“M’kay, Momma,” you little girl sighs as she holds her arms out to hug you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little one,” you whisper as you kiss her still somewhat chubby cheek. “Head on back to class, and I’ll see you at the end of the school day, okay?”

She scampers out of the room, happy to have that extra layer on. Ellie really is going back to her classroom, but as she passes Melissa’s door, she can’t help but stop in the open doorway.

Your girlfriend raises her brows at the sight of your little girl. “Hey, El. What’s going on?”

“I had to get my sweater from Momma, but then I was passing your room and I wanted to say hi,” Ellie smiles bashfully from the door. “Can I come in and give you a hug?”

“One quick one,” the redhead sighs dramatically as she opens her eyes wide. Your daughter knows she isn’t one bit annoyed with the big grin that your girlfriend is wearing. “But then you have to get back to your room.”

“I know,” the first grader says as she runs into the room and into Melissa’s arms. “Quick snuggle, and then back to Miss Smith.”

“Right. Good girl,” Melissa praises your daughter before releasing her from the hug. “I’ll see you at the end of the day, okay?”

Ellie hums her response before stretching on her toes and kissing the second grade teacher’s cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, El.”

“I know!” your little girl grins as she skips out of the room and heads back for her own classroom.

By the time lunch rolls around, you still haven’t heard anything from your daughter’s first grade teacher or the nurses, so you assume that Ellie really is just toughing it out until you all get home for the night.

“Hey,” you greet your girlfriend sitting her place with a kiss to the temple. “How’s your day going so far?”

“I had a little visitor today,” Melissa chuckles. “Oh?”

“Ellie came in wanting a hug after she got her sweater from you,” your girlfriend smiles. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”

“Did she feel warm to you?” you ask her the same question she asked you this morning.

“I asked you that this morning,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But yes, why?”

“Smith called asking if El was feeling well while I was teaching math and told me that she was shivering for the entirety of their word work time.”

“Poor thing’s probably getting sick,” the redhead sighs as she brings a forkful up to her mouth.

You hang your head. “Great.”

“At least it isn’t during break that she’s going to be sick,” Melissa tries to comfort you.

You nod. “I guess, but I hate seeing her like-”

“I want Mommy!” you can hear your little girl before you can see her. You raise a brow at that though- she never calls you ‘Mommy’. You’ve always been ‘Momma’, from the time that she was born. The staff room door whips open, and there is a wailing Ellie with snot running down her face as she clings to her first grade teacher’s hand. “I want Mommy!”

“Y/N, I’m so-” Miss Smith tries to get out.

You shake your head, refusing her apology- you know how your daughter can get when she’s not feeling well, and it’s quite clear to you now that Ellie is under the weather. You rush over to her and crouch down in front of her.

Melissa raises her brow, and she contemplates making her way over. But you’re always so good with your daughter, and you she figures that you have this one handled.

The rest of the Abbott crew makes their way in, sidestepping around you to get to their own spots. But of course, Ava stops in her tracks.

“Why’s your kid so snotty?”

“Ava,” you scold.

The principal shrugs and bypasses you to get to the coffee machine.

“I want Mommy!” Ellie continues to wail.

You open your arms for your sick little girl to fall into. “Momma’s right here, baby. I’m right here.”

“I want Mommy!” the child refuses and goes so far as to stomp her foot in frustration. That action is not something you would usually condone, but you let it slide just this one time. God, is she so sick she’s delirious and doesn’t realize that you’re right in front of her?

“Sweetheart, I’m right here,” you whisper and you reach out a hand to brush away a few of the hairs that are in her face. You pull your sleeve over your hand and wipe the snot away from her face. “Momma’s right here.”

“I want Mommy!” Ellie shrieks again as the tears pour down her face.

You run a hand over your face before pulling her into your arms. You lift her onto your hip and hold her as she cries, offering the rest of the staff an apologetic look for the commotion your daughter is causing.

“Mommy’s here, baby,” you sigh softly. You take your seat back next to your girlfriend as you try to soothe your daughter enough to be able to take her through the halls to gather her things to head home for the day.

Melissa reaches a hand over and starts rubbing circles on Ellie’s back in hopes of helping to calm her down. At her touch, your little girl’s head pops up from its place on your shoulder, and she immediately reaches for the redhead.

Your girlfriend pulls Ellie into her lap and holds her, rocking her gently.

“Mommy,” the little girl whimpers as her cries and wails turn into soft sniffles.

Everyone’s eyes in the room, including your own, go wide. Melissa’s jaw drops, and she looks to you.

“What was that, baby?” you ask softly.

“I telled you and Miss Smith that I wanted Mommy,” Ellie mumbles as your girlfriend’s warm touch and gentle rocking starts to lull her to sleep. She starts to lazily play with the red curls that are within her reach as her eyes flutter shut. She’s snoring softly against Melissa’s shoulder within minutes.

The silence that has washed over the staff lounge at Ellie’s words is finally broken when the redhead asks softly, “Did she- did she call me ‘Mommy’? Am I ‘Mommy’?”

“I think she did,” Barbara smiles from her place.

“Wow,” Melissa whispers as she looks down at the little girl in her lap. “Wow.”

You also whisper your shock and surprise.

Those green eyes that you’ve fallen in love with look into yours seriously. “Are you- how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly?” you ask quietly.

She nods.

You smile softly, a bit sadly. “I wish it didn’t take her being ridiculously sick for her to call you that… but it feels so right.”

The second grade teacher takes one hand off of Ellie’s back to take your own. She squeezes it gently with tears in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she chuckles as she wipes at her eyes. “I didn’t think I would get so emotional over this.”

You chuckle softly, as does Barbara.

“Well,” the kindergarten teacher looks to the two of you expectantly. “Little Ellie needs her Mommy and her Momma to take her home and look after her.”

You glance to your girlfriend, and she nods without hesitation.

“Even if Ava and Mr. J are our subs?” you double check.

“El needs us,” Melissa tells you firmly. “I don’t care who is with our kids as long as we’re with Ellie.”

“I’ll get everything together if you want to stay here with her?” you ask.

She nods. “You know where my sub plans are?”

“Of course I do,” you laugh softly as you stand. “Just give me like fifteen minutes, and then we can head out.”

When you return back to the staff lounge, Melissa is still holding your little girl close to her heart and humming softly while glaring at everyone else, daring them to make noise and wake the Ellie.

“Hey,” you lug your bags, your girlfriend’s bags, and your little girl’s backpack in as quietly as you can. “We’re good to go.”

She stands from her place, still managing to keep Ellie asleep on her. You’re both able to get her in the car and back into the apartment while she naps, and once the little girl is settled on the couch and still asleep, you take Melissa into the kitchen. You wrap your arms around her neck and look her in the eyes.

“I love you,” you whisper as you press your foreheads together.

“I love you too,” she tells you quietly. “And El.”

“You’re so good with her,” you tell Melissa softly. “So good.”

She hums before kissing you gently.

“How do you feel about being ‘Mommy’?” you ask your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend’s eyes well with tears again. “Like I’m on top of the world… that little girl of yours… wow.”

“That little girl of ours,” you correct her. “Ours.”

As if Ellie knows the two of you are talking about her, she whines out from her place on the couch. “Mommy! Momma!”

Motherhood never stops, and the two of you head into the living room to hold your daughter together.

TAGS (and lmk if you wanna be added!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

family rules (alternate version)

satoru gojo x f!reader

in which you’re the one who gets in the accident this time, not satoru and megumi

**read the other ones here

content warning: car accident, mentions of glass and blood, reader in pain satoru says daddy, megumi wants you to break satoru’s neck

an: for all my very lovely family rules fans, this is the part for the request I received here. I hope you all enjoy :D

Satoru pushes his key into the door, swinging the door open as he calls out to the three of you. He’s balancing the pink box in his hands, very excited to see your very irritated face when you open it.

He stops for a second, eyeing the light purple around Megumi’s eye as you push green peas into his face, before turning to the fridge to steal your leftovers from last night.

He can feel you opening the box out of his peripheral vision, preparing his silly little consolation piece to calm you down. He knows you’ll be irritated, obviously, but he’s always sweet talked his way out of situations, especially with you. He just wanted to ease the air after the lecture you were probably going to give Megumi, settle everyone down.

“Megs, do you mind joining Miki upstairs? I need to talk to Gojo over here.” you say, watching you press a very strained smile to your face.

Maybe the cake was too far. He should have settled for balloons instead.

“You have got to be kidding me, Satoru. You bought him a cake for punching another kid in the face?”

“It’s just a joke, my love. No harm done. I’ll talk to him about it later. You know, all that cheesy stuff you say - words before violence, be the bigger man by walking away.” he leans over, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before he sets out to set the plates for dinner.

“Satoru. Be serious for one minute. Megumi is our responsibility. You’re doing him a disservice if we keep letting him process his anger this way. Don’t lead him down the wrong path.”

He can feel the stinging in his chest, the anger developing in his chest. He would be lying by saying things were perfect between the two of you, as of late. The two of you were polar opposites, something he always considered as a strength to your relationship. When he was drifting away too far, you grounded him in reality. When you were too stuck in the little things, he always reminded you of the big picture. You worked - moon and sun, salt and pepper, black and white. However, the two of you had been finding it harder to find compromises lately, arguing more lately, especially when it came to Megumi.

It’s a few fights, not mass murdering people. If anything, Megumi’s doing very well, considering who his father is and what happened. He’s doing very well, considering the fact that he’s being raised by two twenty year olds. Satoru’s doing very well, considering the fact that he’s trying his best to be there for him.

“I’m not leading him anywhere wrong. You’re setting him up for failure if you keep letting kids push him around like that. You’re the one leading him down the wrong path.”

“Solving your problems with fists isn’t always the right answer, Satoru. This is why he doesn’t talk to us when we ask him what’s wrong. We just have to wait for him to explode, just to find out he was suffering the entire time.”

He feels your words sink into his chest, burning him in a place he hadn’t been before. No. Surely you couldn’t be insinuating what he thought you were. You wouldn’t.

He thinks back to the third grade, his parents' faces engraved in his mind. He learned all too quickly that punching another kid in the face, pulling a girl's pigtails, running out of class would get their attention - faster than asking them to tuck him into bed, eat breakfast with him, or come to a school play. They would drop everything, run to his side to see him at the first sign of trouble. There’s no way you’re insinuating Megumi is doing the same.

It kills him. Even the thought of it being right. Megumi’s mimicking him, when he was younger, acting out to get someone to look at him. The two of you tried your best with him, he was always a little more closed off, but you were doing everything you could.

No. No. Satoru Gojo was not his father. You had to be wrong. You had to be wrong because if you were right, he was no better than his father.

“Whatever problem he has, I’ll deal with it. Remember, he’s my kid, not yours. My responsibility. So I’ll figure out what’s best for him moving forward.”

He comes to realize that this was his first mistake, one he’ll come to regret in a few hours.

He can feel the words hanging in the air, waiting for your anger filled response. But it doesn’t come. You compare him to his father and then have nothing to say?

“All quiet now, Y/N? Have nothing to say to me?”

“No, I don’t.”

“And why’s that? You sure had a lot to say a few minutes ago.”

“Because. He’s your kid. Not mine. It’s not really my business what he does, is it?”

He feels his heart sink in his chest, his cheeks burning with regret already. Why did he say that? You didn’t mean it like that. There’s no way you would ever compare him to his dad, in earnest. He curls his fingers around your wrist, pulling you closer to him. Kiss it better, Satoru.

“Hey, hey. Wait a minute.”

You shrug him off, swiping the keys off the counter and running out the door. This is his second mistake - letting you run out that door - and surely the one he’ll regret even more.

He stands there in shock, your absence chilling him. What the hell is he doing? The table is half set, your sweet strawberry smell absent, your glimmering smile gone from the kitchen.

You left. You actually got up and left. It’s his fault. He hit it where he knew where it hurt. He can feel his heart sinking in his chest, the stinging vertebrates through his bones. Why did he say that to you? He loves you. He reaches around for his phone after a few seconds, his fingers shaking as he texts you.

i’m sorry love

you know i didn’t mean it

just come back. you know he’s our kid.

i know you’re right. he shouldn’t be punching people every time he disagrees with them. i just have trouble being too hard on him, i don’t want to be like my parents

not an excuse. i know i’m in the wrong. we can have the talk with him, just like you wanted. just come back y/n.

Satoru nearly drops his phone into the sink, at the sight of Megumi pushing into his legs. He presses his arms around Satoru’s legs, hiding his face against in the fabric.

“Hey Megs. You okay?”

“Did Y/N leave?”

He leans down, intending to talk Megumi down. You were always better at it, but there’s no harm in trying.

He looks over, really observing the bruise on Megumi’s eye for the first time. His eye is swollen, coloring into a dark purple. There’s a tiny bit of pink in the whites of his eyes and he doesn’t miss Megumi keeping his eyes closed, squinting whenever he makes contact with the light.

He reaches down, pressing the green peas you were pushing into Megumi’s face, back to the spot. He didn’t realize Megumi was hurt this bad.

“Yeah. We just had a little argument. She’ll come back.”

He feels Megumi clench his fist, his hand crumpling the fabric of his slacks.

“Do you think she hates me?”

“Megumi. Y/N loves you. She’s mad at me for being stupid, not at you for fighting.”

He feels another set of tiny hands, this time resting on his arms. Tsumiki’s tear filled face is at his side. He’s messed up.

It’s in this moment, Megumi’s stressed out expression and Tsumiki’s tear stained face, that he realizes how small they really are. He’d been teaching Megumi how to master his cursed technique and he was always impressed with how self-sufficient Tsumiki was, but he never realized how wrong it was until now.

They were kids. They’re small, tiny little kids acting like adults. He leans down, pressing the two of them against his chest. He won’t let them burden it - that’s what you and him were for. You, when you were still here anyways.

He reaches for his phone again, shooting you another text.

kids are getting real upset with you gone, they miss you already

“Satoru.”

“Yes, Miss Miki?”

“Why did she leave?”

He sighs. Because he’s an idiot. Because he can’t control his tongue, because he can’t accept his faults, because he’s in over his head.

“We had an argument. I got upset with her and said something that wasn’t very nice to her.”

“Does she still love us?”

“You’re her entire world. She loves you both, so much. That’s partially why she’s so mad at you Megumi. She doesn’t like to see you hurt and gets upset when you willingly put yourself in situations like this.”

He feels his phone buzzing on the floor, basically collapsing trying to pick it up fast enough. He presses the phone to his ear, without even checking the caller ID.

“Y/N?”

“Am I speaking with Mister Satoru Gojo?”

“Yes, this is him.”

“This is Tokyo Medical Hospital. I’m calling regarding a Miss Y/N L/N. She was in a car accident around thirty minutes ago, near the central line highway. She’s just been transported to our Emergency Department where we are responding to her now. It would be best if you could arrive as soon as possible. Do you know her blood type? We need to attempt a transfusion.”

He feels his voice strain in his neck, fighting to get the word out. Blood type. They need your blood type. You were in a car accident. Blood transfusion.

“O negative. Her blood type is O negative.”

Shoko and Nanami meets him at the front of the hospital and he nearly breaks down right there. He was a mess without you. You had to be okay. You had to stay alive.

“I’ll watch the kids.”

Nanami walks off, his hands holding their tiny ones as he takes them on a walk around the block.

“Am I going to lose her, Shoko? Is she okay?”

“She’s really hurt, the glass shattered on impact. Just go through the doors, Satoru. She was asking for you.”

Glass. He nearly runs through the double doors and is met directly with the sight of you.

The air is gone from his lungs and the room is on fire. No. You’re lying on the gurney, the two nurses balancing shining, silver surgical tools in their hands. They’re digging shards of glass out of your soft, soft skin - from your arms, your chest, and the sides of your face.

He can see the tears streaming down your face, your eyes pinching in pain every time they pull a piece out. The worst part, he can hear you murmuring his name and asking for him every time they do. He walks up aimlessly, interlocking his hand with your free, uninjured side. He can feel his hands shaking in yours, his blood burning in his skin.

“Satoru?”

He reaches forward, patting down your hair.

“I’m here, i’m here.”

“It hurts, Satoru.”

He feels his resolve break at the sound of your voice. He’s crying, full on crying at the sight of you like this. In pain, sitting alone for the past hour. He lifts your uninjured hand, pressing a kiss to the top of your knuckles before resting your fingers against his eyes.

“It’s best if you can distract her while we do this. The silence makes it easier to focus on the pain.”

He nods, turning his face away from the nurse and towards you.

“Hi love.”

“Hi Satoru.”

“Don’t…don’t die on me, okay? I still have a lot of things I want to do with you.”

“Like what?

You hiss in pain, squeezing his hand as they keep going deeper into your skin.

“Eat breakfast with you tomorrow. Make you those strawberry pancakes you love so much. Watch you yell as me as I squish whipped cream into Megumi’s hair.”

He watches you laugh, the pain still pressed on your face as you try to respond.

“Don’t respond. It’s okay, love. Just listen to me, yeah?”

You nod, squeezing your hand in his own.

“I…I love you.” he can feel his voice breaking, trying to stop his tears from returning. He clears his throat, his heart screaming in his chest.

“I love you so much, Y/N. You’re everything to me. You and me, we’re going to be okay. I- I…there’s just so much we have to do still. I didn’t even get to marry you yet. Or put my own kid in you.”

“Gross.”

“Out of all that, that’s what you chose to respond to?”

He sees you smile, your eyes all watery at the sight of him. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

You wake up a few hours later, to a very pink eyed Satoru sitting on the chair next to you. He looks horrible.

You make the slightest bit of movement, attempting to reach out for him, and he jumps up from his chair. He presses his hands to your face, shaking his head profusely at you as you put your hands down.

“No, no love. No moving, okay?”

You nod and he gives you a soft smile, before locking his fingers with your own. You can see the tears building in his eyes, his smile being replaced with tears streaming down his eyes.

“Can you put on a little nurses uniform? We’re about to live out my wildest dreams.”

He laughs at your joke, his teary smile returning.

“Shut up. Stop copying my fantasies.”

His hands don’t leave your face, his entire body shaking at the sight of you. He’s scared, scared shitless and you don’t know how to fix it. You’re okay. You’re both going to be okay. You try to sit up, Satoru’s hands helping you most of the way. He has his arm secured around your waist, holding you steady.

“Satoru. I’m okay.”

“You’re not allowed to do that. You can’t just pick up and leave every time you get mad at me. I thought I lost you. I almost did lose you. Do you think I could live if I actually did?”

“I know, Toru. I’m sorry.”

He presses himself against your shoulder, crying into your arms. He’s ran his hands over your arms multiple time’s now, his fingers resting against your beating pulse at your wrist. You can feel the guilt twisting in your chest, for leaving, driving so recklessly, upsetting him in the first place. Any normal person would get up and run right about now.

“You are the only family I have. Please don’t leave me, Satoru.”

You feel your heart clench in your chest at the sight of his defeated resolve and can’t even remember why you were mad, why you drove off in the first place. You squeeze his hand twice, rubbing small circles into the back of his hand.

“You’re the one who left me. I would never leave you. It’s you and me, in life and in death, Y/N. Preferably not the death part from you, if that’s possible please. That’s against the rules.”

“In life and in death? Those are wedding vows, Satoru, we aren’t even married. And we don’t have rules.” you deadpan.

“You didn’t get the memo? We’re married in my head, sweet thing.”

The two of you laugh, the giggles filling up the little medic bay you were sitting in. You feel him lean over, his face still wet and pink from his tears, and press a soft kiss to your forehead before pressing one to your lips.

“Did you eat chocolate from the vending machine?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie. I can taste it on your lips, idiot. Your supposed wife is maybe possibly dying and you’re eating candy?”

“You’re so vulgar. Talking about my lips like that in public. And I was eating for both of us. In your honor. I knew it’s what you would have wanted.”

You roll your eyes at him, giving him a smile, before leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Where are Megumi and Tsumiki?”

“With Nanami, outside. I’ll go grab them now that you’re all bandaged up.”

As he sprints out the door, you readjust in the bed, sitting up. You watch the two of them run in, their little faces swollen from crying. You feel the tears well in your own eyes at the sight of it. You open up your arms (which hurts like a bitch), signaling at the two of them to climb up. They press their bodies against you, their distinct smells pressed against your nose (vanilla for Tsumiki, clean laundry for Megumi).

You can feel them sobbing against you and press kisses to both of their heads as they shake in your arms. You can feel your skin burning at them pressing against your bandages, but you don’t want to let them go.

“Okay, kids. Off. We can hug her as hard as we want when she feels better, okay?”

Satoru Gojo, mind reader. They climb off, the three of them facing you at the side of your bed. They all have their hands pressed against you - Satoru’s resting in your hair, Tsumiki’s in your hand, and Megumi’s at your shoulder. Satoru speaks first.

“I was thinking.”

“You can do that?”

“You wound me, Fushiguro Megumi.”

The three of you snicker at the sound of his whiny voice, the smiles reaching all the way to Tsumiki and Megumi’s cheeks.

“I’ve always had mental rules you should be following in my head, as I am our benevolent, perfect, spectacular leader. But we should establish real ones, for each other. We are a family after all.”

“You’re not our leader.” deadpans Megumi, rolling his eyes at Satoru before eyeing you exasperatedly.

“I like it, Satoru.” you whisper.

“Me first, then. My first rule is for Miss Miki. You have to do anything and everything I say.”

The three of you stare him down, pinching your eyes in annoyance.

“I’m kidding. You guys are such a tough crowd. My first real rule is for Megumi. You’re not going to fight anymore. No punching people when you get angry.”

He nods, whispering a promise to you, more than Satoru, that he won’t fight again. You squeeze his fingers that are interlocked with yours, nodding at the promise.

“The next one is for you, missy. No running away, Y/N. Ever. We can argue all night for all I care. You don’t get to leave.”

You nod, promising all of them that you won’t leave them again. You don’t miss the way their tensed shoulders relax at your promise, shocked that they were even worried about you leaving again in the first place. You would never leave them again. Tsumikis’ quiet voice fills the room next.

“Third rule, no fighting if we can avoid it. We’re all on the same team here so we can just try to work it out.”

You reach forward, pressing your hand into Tsumiki’s hair, you and Satoru promising her you won’t fight, at least if you can’t help it, again. The three of you nod, smiling at each other at your new rules.

“I have one.”

You reach over, running your hands through Megumi’s hair as you smile at him, encouraging to speak up.

“No one leaves the house without saying goodbye. You especially, Mom.”

Mom. Mom. Fushiguro Megumi, in the six months he has been staying with you, has never called you Mom. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, wanting to crush him in a hug for a better part of the next hour or the rest of his life. You’re his Mom.

Before you can reach forward to do so, Satoru’s whiny voice stops you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s not even fair.”

“Toru, shut up.”

“Megs. If I break my neck, will you call me dad?”

You roll your eyes. Way to ruin a moment.

“How about I break it right now and we test the theory?”

Megumi and Tsumiki break out into giggles and you and Satoru can’t help but join them at the sound of their laughter. The three of them press themselves against you, wrapping your arms around as you all laugh.

“Hey, one more rule, okay?”

You all nod, turning to face Satoru.

“Everyone calls me daddy from now on.”

“Can you actually break his neck now? Please? I can help.”

819 notes · View notes

koolades-world · 2 months

Text

One bed troupe w/ Belphie

According to Belphie, this was the perfect day. It could even be called the best day ever in his eyes.

But to you, not so much.

Your day together started with the two of you enjoying a late breakfast together. Neither of you made it, actually. Asmo had made dinner last night, so you were eating leftover at the same time. Belphie thought it was rather romantic. You were half asleep and almost microwaved your fork by accident. After that, you were productive together. You both tried to get some homework done, in which Belphie ended up lounging across your lap while you did some mindless D.D.D. scrolling because your excuse was that you could no longer reach your school supplies.

Later that day, you almost went out with Mammon and Asmo to shop, but eventually opted to stay in with Belphie, because he said he would get lonely if you left him, which was probably untrue because Beel would gladly spend time with him if he wanted. He wanted to spent time in the attic with you. To you, it didn’t matter that much because all eight of you were supposed to head out for dinner that night with Diavolo. Knowing him, he’d convince you all to spend the night at his place somehow, because Lucifer can’t say no to him. You’d get to spent more than enough time with them later.

So, to indulge him, you let him drag you up the stairs to the attic to cuddle. The door shut behind you with a gentle click, but in the moment, you could only think about each other. He dragged you into the bed in the center on the attic and clung onto you like a koala. The two of you did a couple things that you deemed fun, such as a tickle fight and a short game of chase.

By the time you realized you were locked in, it was far too late. They’re probably already left for dinner, assuming you were just busy, since sometimes that would happen. Whenever you had group affairs, one person was always late because they forgot and remembered after the fact, leaving then to rush to where ever the rest of the group was. This time, they probably thought it was you and Belphie.

However, what they didn’t know was that you wouldn’t be meeting up with them because when you’d entered the attic, the door had closed behind you and trapped you in. When Belphie had unceremoniously dragged you away, you’d left your D.D.D. downstairs somewhere, probably on the dining table. Belphie’s was dead, which wasn’t unusual, but unfortunate. Once you realized, you began to freak out, but Belphie was much more relaxed.

“What if they’re worried they’re about to get a ransom video for our lives?” You paced the length of the attic, running your hand along your forehead. You knew how quickly his brothers escalated things when confronted with a minor problem, no less having two family members missing.

“Let them worry, for all I care. I have you all to myself now, don’t I? Besides, it’s not like we’re in danger or anything.” Belphie was tossing a stray tennis ball up and down in the air, while lounging on the bed. You weren’t really sure how much time had passed while you were messing around, but you assumed they were at least halfway through dinner.

“While that’s sweet and all, if that’s how that was intended, aren’t you worried? Even a little?” You sighed and propped yourself against one of the window sills.

“It’s not like we got stuck here on purpose, although anything beats dinner with Lucifer.” Belphie chuckled as you began to chide him for poking fun at his brother. You began to relax more as time went on, and you eventually decided to start cleaning while you were there. As you swept the floor with a spare broom, Belphie chatted with you. He was oddly awake.

You also hoped to find some extra blankets while sorting through some old looking boxes in hopes of staying warm. You couldn’t deny how chilly it was getting up in the attic. Belphie seemed unbothered, but you knew how cold Devildom nights got, and you weren’t dressed appropriately for the night.

“Mc, I’m tired. Come nap with me.” Belphie was still on the bed, arms outstretched to you. A draft swept over the room, causing you to shiver. “See, you’re cold. I’ll keep you warm.” His directness was something you admired about him, and it worked for you in this situation, so you obliged him.

“Is it really a nap at this point? It’s getting late.” You quickly tucked yourself under the covers and let him cling to you. He was very warm. You leaned into the embrace, welcoming the waves of heat.

“Doesn’t matter.” He buried his face in your hair. “Is this my shampoo?” He didn’t move.

“Maybe? It’s whatever bottle I grabbed first this morning so maybe you got the luck of the draw.” You fully well knew you grabbed his shampoo that morning. While you hadn’t picked it out on purpose, you knew the smell well.

“You’re cute. Now, good night. If we’re lucky, maybe my brothers will walk in on us cuddling and get jealous.” His words made you internally smile. If you actually smiled, he’d feel it and stay awake longer. You didn’t fall asleep as immediately as he did, as you heard him lightly snore once or twice, but you were able to revel in the body warmth and fuzzy feelings you got from being around him.

You just hoped his brothers wouldn’t be too freaked out when they couldn’t find you. (You knew they would for sure act like the world was ending and not let you out of their sight for a while)

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me lucifer #sorry if it’s a little shorter than the rest but I struggled to write this and wanted to get it out #thanks for understanding <3

159 notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 10 months

Text

BABY FEVER -

[ ot7 x reader ]

TAEHYUNG -

tae: have my cubs

y/n: STOP TALKING TO ME NOW

tae: i want 8

y/n: i’ve actually never been so srs in my life

let’s break up

like fr

i’m over this relationship i’m over you

tae: i can settle for 5 if it’s too much

y/n: let’s settle for a break up

tae: our little family 🥺

y/n: i would rather shoot myself

tae: why?

y/n: WHY?

are you really asking my why rn?

tae: yeah??

y/n: “have my cubs”

tae: i can’t get pregnant what is wrong with you

someone didn’t go to school 😭😭

y/n: who in their right mind says shit like that

tae: me??

y/n: stop talking to me

tae: babe

i’m being for real

y/n: i know

and i’m scared

tae: don’t be scared

i’ll protect you

and the kids

real alpha i am

y/n: stop

tae: are you getting emotional?

omg are you pregnant rn?????

hormones and that stuff?

is that what you wanted to say this whole time??

were you trying to hide it from me??

ur so cute >.<

y/n: i’m blocking you now

tae: we are gonna get through this together

do you think we need a bigger house?

y/n: genuinely are you ok in the head?

tae: ofc wtf??

i know ur not because of the pregnancy

but it’s okay

you don’t need to stress at all

i’ll think for the both of us

the love of ur life taetae be the sane one for the next 6 months

y/n: there is so much to unpack there

tae: omg have you been clothes shopping without me >.<

y/n: i am perfectly fine

you and sane don’t belong in the same sentence

never call yourself taetae again

and it’s 9 months not 6 you fucking idiot

tae: what is ur actual problem??

don’t swear around my child you’ll poison their mind

and i think i know more about babies than you do so just leave everything to me ok?

y/n: again i would rather shoot myself

tae: if you die i’ll protect the baby

y/n: there is no baby

tae: are you not ready to be a mother or something?

i swear we can do this babe

y/n: are you actually listening to me??

tae: ofc i am??

y/n: …

tae: i’m omw home btw can’t wait to see you both!!!!!!!

y/n: it’s like you only take in the information you want to hear

tae: i love you too

y/n: or maybe you just can’t read

tae: <333333333

YOONGI -

yoongi: no

y/n: i don’t like when you read my mind like that

yoongi: no

y/n: i’m gonna ask anyways

yoongi: no

y/n: let’s have a baby 😁🙏🏽

yoongi: no

y/n: if we don’t have a baby now ur gonna be an old dad

ur gonna die before our baby turns 10

we don’t want that do we?

think of all the precious memories you’ll miss

yoongi: i’m fine with that

y/n: are you really?

yoongi: …

y/n: let’s have a baby rn

yoongi: but that’s so much work

y/n: #inittogether

our little baby made out of our love for each other

isn’t that sososoos cute yoongi 🥺

yoongi: i guess

y/n: so we’re having a baby?

yoongi: go away

y/n: ur not saying no

i’m taking this as a yes

i continue to win in this life

yoongi: what if you die before me

and i’m left with a baby?

y/n: the old thing really got to you huh?

yoongi: no i’m just saying you might die first

y/n: there is no way i’m dying first

ur literally 30

yoongi: and???

y/n: like jin is ur age mate that’s saying aLOT

yoongi: ur pissing me off

y/n: okay old bitch

yoongi: you expect me to have children with you after you bully me??

y/n: pls put me in ur will

i’m in jin’s yk?

yoongi: why are you in jin’s will?

y/n: why? mad ur not?

yoongi: how do you know i’m not

in his will?

matter of fact why tf does he have a will??

y/n: aren’t you an inquisitive one

yoongi: saying big words doesn’t make you look smart

y/n: jin knows it’s almost his time

you better start writing yours

yoongi: leaving everything to holly

y/n: i’ll literally cook holly

yoongi: what is wrong with you

y/n: i am not with child rn

that’s what’s wrong

yoongi: that sounded gross

never say that again

y/n: i’ve come to the conclusion that ur my biggest enemy

yoongi: i’m glad you know

y/n: ur dying

yoongi: ur next

y/n: don’t ever say that

i’m literally in my prime

yoongi: ur prime?

couldn’t tell

y/n: find someone else to carry your children

i can no longer stand the idea of mini yous running around

yoongi: ok :(

y/n: ??

don’t frown at me

you brought this on urself

yoongi: 😔

y/n: you bitch

yoongi: come make a baby with me 😄

NAMJOON -

y/n: let’s have a child

namjoon: ok

y/n: i lied

namjoon: oh

y/n: what is wrong with you

namjoon: what is wrong with you?

y/n: did adding a question mark make you feel better bitch??

namjoon: very

y/n: this is why i lie to you

namjoon: that’s not nice

y/n: ur literally a nasty little gaslighter

namjoon: i’m not?

y/n: you are?

namjoon: if anything ur the gaslighter

y/n: fake claims i’ll sue

namjoon: you tell me you want to have children and then you tell me ur lying or you never said that

y/n: what is ur actual issue i’ve never said i want kids??

if you want kids ig we can talk about it but i’ve literally never brought that up

namjoon: see?

y/n: i see very clearly actually 20/20 vision the eye people told me

namjoon: you wear glasses?

y/n: occasionally

like what is ur issue?

ur so obsessed with me it’s not right

namjoon: ig i’m a little obsessed

y/n: it’s really not right

wait…

don’t you fucking wear glasses

what is ur issue four eyes???

namjoon: i do

i’ve never claimed to have 20/20 vision

y/n: ur blind as hell

namjoon: maybe i don’t want to have kids with you

they fr won’t be able to see anything

y/n: HOW DARE YOU SAY YOI DONT WANT KIDS WITH ME

YOURE SICK IN TBE HEAD

namjoon: put ur glasses on

ur spelling stuff wrong

y/n: it’s my charm

namjoon: not wearing ur glasses?

y/n: we need to go on a break

namjoon: how can we go on a break when we have kids to take care of?

y/n: and you say ur not a gaslighter?

what if i was a weak woman and fell for ur sick lies

namjoon: we would have kids by now

y/n: ur messed up

that’s so messed up

namjoon: shoot me

y/n: don’t say stuff like that

cuz i will

then you’ll be mad

and dead

namjoon: what are you bothering me for?

y/n: can i not just message my bf like omg?

namjoon: you miss me or something?

y/n: not anymore

namjoon: cute

y/n: fuck ur cute

namjoon: accepting a compliment won’t kill you yk?

y/n: stop communicating with me

namjoon: you messaged me first?

y/n: no i didn’t

namjoon: whatever

y/n: omg don’t speak to me like you hate me i’ll kms

namjoon: so kids?

y/n: idk what ur on about tbh

namjoon: fine

y/n: fine

namjoon: fine?

y/n: fine?

namjoon: idk what you want from me

y/n: children

namjoon: you stop communicating with me

y/n: wow

namjoon: yeah

y/n: ur a LOSER

SEOKJIN -

jin: it’s time we reproduce

y/n: no

jin: no?

this would be a blessing to many

y/n: ok??

jin: ok?

i’ll just kms then

if you hate me just say that

y/n: i hate you

jin: what is ur problem???

y/n: what’s urs??

you told me to say it

jin: i said if you hate me

y/n: ???

jin: oh my god

leave me alone

y/n: oh my god by gidle

jin: you have to stop speaking to hobi

y/n: why :(

jin: ur starting to talk like him

and it’s gross

the mother of my children a hoseok clone??

no thank you

y/n: what children??

jin: you need to keep up

we are having kids

y/n: but you said mother of your children

like as in you have kids rn

and last time i checked i never gave birth

who is this other woman seokjin???

jin: ew why would you say my full name like that

y/n: why would you cheat on me?

jin: bored?

y/n: all men are the same

jin: i am like no other man

y/n: true you dumb as hell

jin: now ur talking shit

y/n: maybe the shit talks you

jin: what

y/n: what

jin: can we make babies pls

y/n: ew

you actually make me wanna throw up

jin: wtf

this is why i don’t talk to you

y/n: you talk to me everyday?

in fact you loose ur mind if you don’t talk to me for more than 2 hours

jin: you literally have no proof

once again ur talking SHIT

y/n: don’t raise ur voice at me tf

jin: see you would be such a good mother

that’s such a parent thing to say

lowkey got me feeling a little hot and bothered rn 🙈

i’m sorry

you might need to put me in my place again mommy 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙉🙉🙉

y/n: what the fuck

jin: you’re not into it???

y/n: how can you go from talking about children to sex?

jin: don’t say that makes me sound like a perv

y/n: you are a perv

jin: no i’m not

ur just lame

like you need to have sex to have children

i was just helping start the process

y/n: you’ve got like a screw loose or something

jin: stop speaking to me in riddles

or don’t

i do love a smart girl 😉

y/n: stop speaking to me like a bitch in heat

jin: people lame nowadays

by people i mean you

y/n: cry about it

jin: i just might

y/n: good

JUNGKOOK -

y/n: do you want to have a baby?

jk: doesn’t giving birth hurt?

y/n: so?

jk: i don’t want you to get hurt

y/n: life is pain

jk: i’ll give birth

y/n: that’s not how it works

jk: pls let me do it

y/n: ok

jk: thank you

y/n: ur welcome

jk: do you think i’ll look good pregnant?

y/n: idk

jk: will you still love me when i get big?

y/n: i might leave you if you get pregnant

jk: wtf?

y/n: it might creep me out

jk: why wtf

y/n: i don’t want to imagine you pregnant

jk: but our baby ☹️

y/n: i would rather never have kids than see you pregnant

jk: wow

you think i would be that ugly

y/n: i’m sorry

jk: are you?

y/n: ummm

jk: ok then

y/n: we can always adopt

jk: but that’s not my baby

y/n: legally they would be

jk: we won’t have the same spit

y/n: the same spit?

jk: yk like our insides won’t be the same

y/n: ur dna?

jk: yeah my dna

y/n: ur not supposed to have the exact same dna as ur baby anyways

jk: okay but it’s like a mix of us

and a adopted one would have no mix at all

y/n: so what do you want to do?

jk: give birth

y/n: i really don’t think it’s possible babe

jk: i will do it

y/n: sure

jk: why don’t you believe in me?

y/n: i do

jk: act like it

y/n: wooo?

jk: not good enough

y/n: sorry i’m tired

jk: ok?

y/n: fuck you?

jk: i’m about to have a baby and ur talking to me like that?

y/n: i’ll believe it when i see it

jk: so you fr don’t believe in me?

y/n: yeah

not one bit of belief in me

jk: crazy how people switch up

when you want to come back into me and MY babies lives we won’t let you

y/n: i’m crying

honestly

jk: i’m glad

y/n: i’m actually not

i don’t care at all

and that’s the truth

jk: so you just lie for fun

y/n: pretty much

jk: wow

ur crazy

y/n: 4 u

jk: waittt why am i blushing rn 😖

are you in love with me be honest?

y/n: idk…

jk: oh

y/n: embarrassing…

ur just a fuck buddy tbh

jk: for 8 years i’ve been a fuck buddy?

y/n: yur

jk: are you lying to me?

y/n: i could be

jk: i could be pregnant rn

y/n: are you?

jk: no

but i could be

y/n: are you lying to me?

jk: yeah :(

y/n: it’s okay

jk: is it really??

y/n: you don’t want me to answer that

JIMIN -

y/n: i’ve been getting congratulation texts all day today

jimin: omg people are so crazy wtf 😭?

y/n: i’m fr so confused

did we win an award i didn’t know about or something??

jimin: maybe idk lol

y/n: would it be rude if i asked what tf they’re talking about?

jimin: unbelievably rude

don’t do it

i’m for real

y/n: but i wanna know

jimin: just accept the congrats and go

y/n: do you know something i don’t?

jimin: wtf no?

y/n. ur lying

jimin: i’m not

y/n: jimin

jimin: love of my life

apple of my eye

babe

y/n: tell me

jimin: omg i LOVE that song

tell me tell me ttttell me

y/n: now

jimin: sorry idk what ur talking about

hello??

babe?

where did you go?

come back

talk to me

y/n: YOU TOLD PEOPLE I WAS PREGNANT???

jimin: I TOLD YOU NOT TO ASK

WAHT IS WRONG WITH YOU???

y/n: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

jimin: i’m preparing people for the future

y/n: ??????????

i’m NOT pregnant

jimin: you will be when i’m done with you ;)

y/n: wtf is wrong with you

jimin: a lot

y/n: i can tell

jimin: do you think i’m ugly be honest

y/n: right now yes

jimin: so you think i’m pretty other times 🥺🥺🥺

let’s have a baby

y/n: no

jimin: okay wtf

why not

y/n: ur literally about to be shipped off

you want to leave me with a baby??

jimin: why would you say that

now i’m upset

i’ll take the baby with me

y/n: …

jimin: no?

y/n: no

jimin: fine

our baby would be lowkey ugly anyways

y/n: excuse me?

jimin: problem?

y/n: why would our baby be ugly??

jimin: i mean…

y/n: you mean????

jimin: ur gonna have to just prove me wrong babe

y/n: ur not funny

jimin: did i make a joke???

y/n: you are the joke

jimin: i actually am not the joke

i never joke

super serious guy park jimin is

super shy too

new jeans core >.<

y/n: i’m done with you

HOSEOK -

y/n: baby?

hobi: me?

y/n: no like an actual baby

hobi: ur having one?

congrats!!!!!

y/n: no??

i’m not having one

hobi: oh

i’m sorry for ur loss

y/n: there was no loss

hobi: oh

was there a gain?

y/n: do you want there to be?

hobi: depends on the gain

y/n: the gain would be a baby

hobi: yikesss

that’s a pretty lame gain

why would i want you to have a baby?

y/n: um because you love me?

hobi: i wouldn’t be the father

i don’t see the point

y/n: ???

why wouldn’t you be the father?

hobi: i thought you were asking me if you could have a baby with someone else

y/n: what?

hobi: what?

i’m confused

y/n: I’M confused

hobi: why are we confused??

y/n: why would i ask you if i could have a baby with someone else???

hobi: feminism?

tho i do think it would be more of a feminist move if you didn’t ask me

ur spirt was in the right place tho

i’m sure the women will forgive you

y/n: what?

hobi: was i wrong??

y/n: what do you think?

hobi: it’s not my place to decide for a strong woman like urself

y/n: get a grip

hobi: grip gotten

y/n: is this ur way of dodging my baby proposal?

hobi: a baby what?

that sounds wrong

tf is a baby doing proposing???

ur a baby like drink milk or something

y/n: are you drunk??

hobi: nooooooooooooooooooooooooo

y/n: so ur tipsy?

hobi: tipsy topsy who cares

y/n: i do

i’m trying to ask you if you want to have a baby with me oh my god

hobi: omg do you love me or something???

that’s so crazy

y/n: bye have fun drinking

hobi: drinking heals me

y/n: that’s concerning

hobi: will i be a good dad

y/n: i’m sure you will

hobi: or will i kill myself due to the stress

y/n: oh

hobi: let’s find out babe

i’m ready

y/n: that did not sound like ready talk to me

we can talk about this tomorrow

hobi: if we think about it what can a baby do that i can’t???

y/n: keep me company

hobi: i do that all the time

do you hate me

if you hate me say 1

if you hate me and want me dead in a ditch by saturday night say 7

y/n: where are you right now?

hobi: jin’s house

i think

y/n: you think?

anyways

that’s the point

i’m all alone a baby would never leave me to go drink with jin

hobi: jin would be dead by the time our baby was born

he’s old

dojn’t tell him i said that

he might kick me out

i would be so upset

like this :cccccccccccc

and this 😭😭😭😪😓😓😓😰😰😨😨

WOAHHH THIJS DRINK HITTING OH MY GOD BABE WOW

FEELS LIKE I JUST DID COKE

OH MY GOF

not that i’ve done cokr befr don’t be scared of me babe

y/n: wow okay!

hobi: babies can’t even dance to dynamite i don’t see why you would want that in ur life

and i totally can dance to dynamite

sO i win

y/n: you are so right babe you go and have fun with jin!

hobi: see ur just so silly

and btw i realllly donnt do coke i swear it

y/n: 7

hobi: OH MY GIF I KNEW ITT

485 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 10 months

Text

and i never (saw you coming)

summary: coming back from college for the summer, you never would have expected to meet someone in your tiny town. and you most definitely would not have expected that someone to be steve fucking harrington.

a.n: so this is a henderson!readerxsteve BUT there are absolutely zero descriptors and no mention of being blood relatives or anything so please take the sibling relationship however you would like!! this is also a part one to a lil two part thing. set in s4 but i've changed it to be summer break rather than spring and i am finally writing canon material wherein the UD exists (part two) shout out to miss swift for the title xx

wc: 6k+

no smut but there may be in part two and as a baseline, i am an 18+ blog so please respect that. mentions of weed, drinking and sex. no use of y/n!

‎♡‧₊˚

Steve doesn’t usually make the effort to get out of his car to collect Dustin. But he had honked his damn horn five times now and was getting frankly sick of waiting for the petulant boy.

He races up the gravel path, cursing under his breath about not being a fucking taxi and how he shouldn’t take him for granted. Steve’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears as he pounds on the door, prepared to give the boy an earful.

His mouth is open when the door creaks open, “Dustin I have told you-,” it’s only then that he realises that Dustin isn’t the one behind the door. It’s you.

“Excuse me?” you start, frowning at this apparent grown man who seemed to have a problem with your younger brother. As much as he got on your last nerve, you’d defend him to the moon and back.

“You’re not- um, is Dustin home?” he asks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in utter shame. Dustin had mentioned you a few times and he was sure he remembered you from school but never really took much notice.

“Why?” you ask pointedly, scowling at the man. He was from school, you knew that much. One of the basketball players that absolutely would have sniggered about you in the halls.

“I’m giving him a ride to uh- to the movies,” he nods, realising that he sounded like an utter weirdo.

“Aren’t you a little old to be hanging out with my brother?”

Steve hesitates because yes, he probably was too old to admit that your little brother was his friend. Let alone the fact he considered him a best friend.

“Uh.. I could see why you think that but mentally I’m probably more his age than mine,” smiling at you, genuinely not seeing an issue with his statement.

Your eyes narrow, brows knitted together. You knew he wasn’t some dodgy old pervert but he had absolutely not helped his case there. “Right.. well, no. He’s not back yet so…”

“Oh, well I’ll just.. wait in my car,” he nods, slowly turning to jump back into his car. Eager to not make himself look any stupider in front of you.

You sigh, “you can wait inside,” opening the door wider for him, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from Dustin if you made his dear friend wait outside.

He tiptoes into the house, eyeing the quirky decorations your mom had covered the house in. It was clear now why Dustin was so.. eccentric. He’s like a stray dog, hovering around the couch, too scared to sit down.

You resume your spot, attempting to pay attention to whatever movie is on the TV but struggling knowing he’s still just standing awkwardly above you.

“You can sit down, you know?” you bark, not bothering to look at him.

He does almost immediately, running his sweaty palms along his knees. God, why was this making him so flustered?

“You’re Dustin’s sister then?” the words falling out of his mouth without much thought. He wants to fall into the floor. Obviously you were his sister. Fuck.

“Yup.”

“Cool.. I haven’t really seen you before.. I’m uh-,” sticking his hand out for you to shake, “Steve.. Steve Harrington,” smiling as you glance at his outstretched hand, hesitantly shaking it.

The mention of his name makes everything click into place. This is the infamous Steve that Dustin didn’t shut up about. You were in the same grade at school and had shared a few classes but had never really spoken. That might’ve been something to do with him being a gigantic prick the entire five years you were in school.

“Oh,” you nod, trying to mask your apprehensions, “I remember you,” hoping that didn’t give too much of your distaste away.

“Yeah.. I’m not like.. that anymore,” picking up on your obvious distrust. It’s not surprising that so many people still hold reservations about him, even he could admit that he wasn’t exactly a saint.

You hum in response. You can mostly believe him because there was no way in hell Dustin would’ve ever become friends with someone like King Steve. In fact, knowing your little brother, he probably would’ve detested the kind of boy he was in school.

“So.. you go to college?” he asks, trying desperately to change the subject.

“Yeah.. uh, Chicago, I didn’t wanna go too far yanno?” not that you really could’ve. College was a last minute, fuck it kind of decision and you hadn’t really even planned on staying past the first week. But you had, and had even found yourself liking it.

“That’s cool.. what do ya’ do? If you don’t mind me asking,” shifting in his seat, eyes dead set on you.

“Language studies, it’s not cool or exciting at all but I enjoy it,” shrugging as you pick at the loose thread on your shorts, avoiding any direct eye contact.

Despite Steve Harrington being a changed man, he still made you incredibly nervous and you felt like suddenly you were back in high school. He just had this aura to him and the way he carries himself, even now, was just intimidating.

“No, that is cool? I wish I was smart enough for college,” chuckling nervously, “I bet it’s crazy out there.”

Your definition of a crazy night meant smoking with Julia, your roommate, and eating a stupid amount of shit food. His definition of crazy definitely included some frat party and hooking up with some stranger in a crowded house.

“Hah.. not really, I think maybe we have different definitions of crazy.”

“Well, what’s your idea of crazy then?”

You look around on the off chance Dustin and your mom had somehow snuck into the house completely silently, “getting high and eating a bunch of junk food.. not exactly the kinda shit you imagined.”

“How d’you know what I imagined? Maybe I think that’s a crazy night too,” laughing at your assumptions, evidently he was still hanging onto that King Steve persona.

“Nah.. you’re thinking of getting black out drunk at some party and then having sex with some girl you’ll never speak to again,” raising your brows, smug that you’d sussed him out completely.

“Is that what you think of me?” jokingly placing his hand over his heart, shaking his head, “I don’t even like parties that much anymore and actually I think you’re right, that would be a crazy night,” smiling to himself.

Because to him that did sound like a great night, and he’d kill to be able to do that with Robin and if it wasn’t for the fact that she got so intensely paranoid that one time they’d smoked together, they’d probably do it more often.

“Oh, well.. you’ve surprised me,” giving him a small smile. You still had your reservations about him, but if he was good enough for Dustin, you were sure you could come to perhaps tolerate him.

“Yeah, I do a lotta that nowadays.”

“Well are you surp-,” you’re cut off by Dustin barging through the front door, nearly taking the damn thing off its hinges.

“Steve? We’re gonna be late! C’mon!” he yells into the living room as if he wasn’t the one who had shown up fifteen minutes late. He’s huffing and puffing with his hands on his hips, clearly something inherited from your mother.

“Woah dude, chill out,” he looks at his watch and jumps up out of his seat, “okay shit- sorry uh, oops let’s go,” rushing over to Dustin. He turns at the last second, waving at you over his shoulder, “it was nice to meet you,” a genuine grin on his face.

“You too,” you call back, watching as your brother drags him out of the house. Muffled voices arguing over what time the movie started and how dare Steve enter his house without him present.

Dustin’s still going on in the car after much push back from Steve that actually he was early and Dustin was the one who was late.

“Your sister’s pretty cool,” Steve blurts out, driving along the bumpy road. He wants to rescind his sentence almost immediately after Dustin glares at him from the passenger’s seat.

“Absolutely not. No, Steve. No.”

“What?” flabbergasted that Dustin had so brazenly assumed he had some ulterior motive. He hadn’t even said anything. Not yet anyway.

“Just no. I know you and I know what you’re thinking and I’m putting a stop to it now,” Dustin cringes, mentally perturbed by the thought of you and Steve even speaking.

“Wha- dude, I was just saying.. you barely speak about her.. that’s all,” tapping on the leather steering wheel, playing it off rather smoothly, he thinks.

“I know my sister’s cool.. way too cool for you, okay? So you should forget about it because it will never ever happen.”

“I wasn’t even gonna.. you’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

Steve’s sat in the booth, opposite what must be the worst date of his life. Dear God, Tammy Thompson was hot but holy shit was she annoying. Her voice agitating his ear drums with every word, irritating and nasally as she rambled on about her singing ‘career’. It wasn’t much of a career, Steve thought. Singing the national anthem in your high school gym was hardly a career. He thought it was quite sad actually.

He nods along to her bullshit, maybe she would sound better when he got her into the back of his beemer. Well, he was hoping anyway.

“You guys finished?” the familiar voice rings out across the table, his eyes darting from Tammy to find you standing at the end of the table with a fake grin plastered on your face.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he sounds confused, attention fully shifted from the blonde in front of him to you. Surely Dustin could’ve had the courtesy to let him know that you worked at his favourite date spot.

“Uh.. yup, so you’re done?” still in customer service mode, trying desperately to ignore the awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah.. thank you,” he smiles, pushing the empty plates toward you “how long have you worked here.. I’ve never seen you,” positively baffled but happy nonetheless.

You shrug, “like sophomore year,” confused why he seemed to care so much, “I’m just doing part time over the summer..” stacking the plates as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to get far away from the awkward date you had stumbled upon.

“That’s cool, I mean, I’m here a lot so..”

Both you and Tammy flash him a look, granted hers was far more annoyed than yours. You mutter a small nice before scurrying off to the kitchen, relieved to be far from the impending disaster that was waiting to implode.

Something’s not right.

Even with Tammy practically climbing over the centre console to get to him, fully willing and eager.. he’s just not feeling it. Something or someone rather stuck in his head. They had been since last week and no matter how much he’d tried to shake it.. nadda.

He pulls away from Tammy, sighing pathetically, “I’m sorry.. d’you mind if I just take you home? I don’t feel great..” he hopes it’s at least half-convincing.

“Are you fucking serious Steve?” Tammy whines, staring across the car in utter disbelief.

He offers an apologetic smile, shuffling in his seat to get away from her, “yeah.. must be something I ate.. sorry,” grimacing at this incredibly awkward moment. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth, could he?

“Whatever,” crossing her arms over her chest, frowning as she re-buckles her seatbelt, starting straight ahead.

He starts the car with a sigh. She was a nice enough girl, but she just wasn’t.. well, she just wasn’t Dustin Henderson’s mysterious older sister who just hadn’t let this mind since you’d met last week. That was the problem.

She doesn’t say a word as she gets out of the car, making sure to slam the door in his face when he leans over to say goodnight. He’s sure she’ll tell all her bitchpack friends who’ll vow to ignore him until he smiles at them over the Family Video counter and they’ll forget all about it.

Why couldn’t that just work on you?

You don’t see Steve for another week. Dustin normally runs out of the house the second he hears Steve’s car in the driveway meaning you don’t cross paths.

But now he’s sat in the exact same booth as last week, this time alone with a half empty cup of coffee in front of him.

Your legs sort of work on their own, carrying your body over to the booth. It’s only when you’re stood at the end of the table do you realise you have no idea what you should even say to him.

“Who’s the unlucky lady this week?” your mouth blurts out without second thought, startling him from staring out the window. His lips curling into a smile the second he realises it’s you.

“No lady this week, flying solo,” internally dying from his choice of words. Yeah, that totally made him look cool.

“Oh,” pulling the dirtied plate across the table, “Tammy Thompson didn’t work out then?” Why are you even asking? You shouldn’t care about who he dates.

“Nah.. we didn’t really..” he mashes his hands together, “vibe,” smiling up at you from the seat. He obviously wasn’t heartbroken over it.

“Well if it’s any consolation, I always thought she was a massive bitch,” and she was. One of those girls that prowled the halls waiting for somebody to humiliate. Bare in mind, Steve was too, he just picked on the weird boys rather than the girls.

Steve chuckles, “yeah, she was.. or is.. I don’t know,” he’s sure that in her opinion, he was the bitch that didn’t want to hook up with her because his ‘stomach hurt’, and really that was a fair enough assertion.

You give him a quick smile before picking up the plate, beginning to walk away when his voice calls out from behind, “what time do you get off?”

“Nine.. why?” apprehensive as you answer. Spinning on your heel to face him.

“I can give you a ride home? I mean, if you want?”

You pause just before you reach the counter. It seriously would beat walking home in the summer heat. Dustin would certainly have a few choice words when you showed up at home in Steve’s BMW, but who cares?

“Okay, yeah that’d be great.. thanks,” giving him a tight lipped smile, “you gonna sit there for the whole four hours?”

“I- wh.. no,” laughing awkwardly because he hadn’t exactly planned what he was going to do until nine but he had assumed it’d be fine if just hung out here. “I’ve gotta go uh.. pick Robin up from work,” lie. He and Robin had worked the morning shift and she was off at some family dinner she had complained about all week.

“Robin Buckley?” you ask, slightly confused as to how the two of them even knew each other.

“You know her?” he perks up.

“Eh.. kinda, we were in band together.. how do you know her?”

He’d love to tell you that they had become inseparable after nearly dying in a Russian basement with your little brother last summer. But he doesn’t. Because you, like the majority of Hawkin’s residents, were still blissfully unaware of the weird underworld that lived beneath your town.

“We worked together last summer and now we’re best friends I guess,” it sounded far too simple as he said it out loud.

He was an asshole in school and was well aware of that fact, someone like him would never have become friends with someone like Robin if it weren’t for the Upside Down. But he was grateful nonetheless, and telling you the shortened story was much easier than opening the can of worms that was the Upside Down.

“Oh..” you nod slowly, “you really have changed, huh?” thinking back to Dustin’s constant appraisal of the new Steve and how you didn’t really believe any of it.

“Yeah.. I don’t..” he clears his throat, “I don’t know if I was an asshole to you in school but if I was then.. I’m sorry,” looking sheepish as his head hangs low. In all honesty, he couldn’t really remember you ever being at Hawkins High but felt an apology was due either way.

You nod, accepting the apology though the worst he’d ever done to you was the time he sat there and cackled as Carol Perkins knocked the pile of books out of your arm.

“You want another cup of coffee or d’you have to go?” still clutching onto his dirty plate.

He checks his watch, not that the time actually mattered as he’d leave here and probably end up driving around until it was socially acceptable to come back in. “I could do one more.. thank you,” grinning softly.

You slip into the kitchen, questioning the warm, fuzzy feeling that had settled in your chest. Convincing yourself that it was only because he was being nice to you. Nothing more.

Steve strolls in again at 8:40 after driving around the entire town, ending up parking in town and just watching the tiny clock in his dash until it turned 8:30 and he could slowly make his way back to the diner.

It’s empty, has been pretty much all night bar the few regulars that seemed to spend their lives here. You’re sat behind the counter flicking through the Hawkins Post someone had left behind, reading about the upcoming bake sale. Riveting stuff, really.

“You’re early,” you point out, looking at the clock that had moved incredibly slow all day.

“I had nothing else to do so thought I’d try and squeeze one more cup of coffee from you,” he grins cheekily, testing the boundaries of this incredibly new.. friendship?

You roll your eyes, motioning over to the pot, “help yourself,” sending one of the clean coffee mugs over the counter so he could do your job for you.

The clock slowly ticks over to nine and you do one last check around the place to make sure you’d done everything needed. Javie, the cook, had gone home already, thankfully cleaning the kitchen before disappearing. Begging you not to tell Kevin he’d slipped off early with a promise of whatever you wanted to eat on your next shift.

You turn the key in the door as Steve stands behind with his hands shoved in his pockets, “are you normally the only one in there at this time?” walking beside you to his car.

“No, Javie normally finishes when I do but he had a date or some shit so he left early,” shaking your head. It would’ve been useless to make him stay anyway.

Steve jumps in front of you, grabbing the handle before you got the chance, pulling the door open, “Oh.. good, yeah that’s good,” closing the door and clambering into his own side. He wants to believe that he’s not sure why the mention of Javie’s name made him feel so funny.

“You sound disappointed.. were you planning on robbing me?” chuckling to yourself.

“No! No.. what? It just seems unsafe for you to be there on your own so late..”

“It’s nine pm Steve.”

“Yeah I know but.. there are a lotta weirdos in Hawkins yanno?” starting the car as quick as possible, not wanting to stick his foot in his mouth any further.

You smile, it was very kind of him to look out for you after all. “Yeah.. I’m in the car with one right now,” glancing at him with a shit eating grin.

“Oh ha ha.. you’re so funny,” rolling his eyes in jest though his lips twitch into a small smile.

“I know that actually,” turning to watch the trees as they disappear behind you. The air is perfect, reminiscent of the summers you had here as a child.

Steve takes the opportunity to look over at you admiring the night sky. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, this was going to be the death of him.

Well, you were.

Steve’s itching to just ask him, get it out while he’s driving so Dustin can’t run away.

“So.. I have a question for you,” testing the waters before fully committing.

“Uhh.. what could you possibly have to ask me?” Dustin asks, curious.

“Well.. I need you to ask your sister if she’d maybe wanna come to the movies with me,” he holds up his hand to preemptively stop Dustin’s inevitable reaction, “I accidentally bought two tickets and I don’t wanna let it go to waste, so don’t start.”

“Steve, I already told you that that is not happening.”

“It’s not a date Dustin,” Steve hisses, “you said she liked horror movies so.. I thought she might wanna come.. that’s all.”

Dustin looks incredulous, “since when do you like horror movies?”

“Uh.. since forever?” lying through his teeth. Steve hated horror. Would point blank refuse to watch anything even remotely scary when Robin suggested it.

“You’re a bad liar,” Dustin frowns, he’d had many of his own movie suggestions shot down by Steve for being inappropriate and too scary.

He rounds the corner, pulling up onto your drive. He was running out of time to convince Dustin to do this for him. And see, he’d do it himself but that would mean he’d undoubtedly end up a bumbling idiot in front of you and that was not what he was aiming for.

“Can you- will you please just ask her?” he begs, pleads even.

“Fine,” Dustin rolls his eyes, sliding out of the car. His feet dragging along the pavement as he walks into your house, not bothering to give his usual wave to an idling Steve.

He slinks up the stairs, banging on your bedroom door. Get it out of the way and then he could mourn the loss of both his sister and his best friend as quickly as possible.

“Yeah come in,” you call from the other side, closing the notebook.

“Steve asked me to ask you if you wanted to go and see some movie with him, he also wants me to tell you that he accidentally bought two tickets instead of one but I think you and I are both smart enough to know that isn’t true,” your brother rolls his eyes, perched in your doorway.

You smile to yourself, rolling your eyes. It was childish but admittedly endearing, “tell him to ask me himself and I’ll think about it.”

Dustin nods, frowning as he walks over to your bedroom window, leaning out of it to holler at Steve who was still sat in his car awaiting your answer, “she told me to tell you to ask her yourself,” sticking his middle finger up at him before storming off into his own room.

You watch him leave, open mouthed before going to the window to find Steve looking up to your window. He points towards the door, shrugging. This really wasn’t how he’d have liked this to go.

The door swings open and you blink at him, allowing him the opportunity to go first. This was his question after all.

“D’you wanna come to the movies with me? I- Dustin mentioned that you like horror movies and I don’t wanna waste this ticket.. it’s cool if not,” Christ, he really needed to stop hanging around Robin so much. She had a knack for being completely defeatist before even receiving her answer and it was clearly starting to rub off on him.

“Yes, I’ll go to the movies with you,” smiling softly at him. He really was light years away from the dickhead you once despised, now just some shy guy trying to ask someone out on not-date-date.

“Okay,” he responds with far too much enthusiasm, “great.. Friday! I mean- I’ll pick you up on Friday.. eight o’clock,” cheesing as he walks back to his car. Throwing up a thumbs up before realising how stupid he looked and rushing to get into his car. Heart fluttering out of his chest.

You’re shitting it.

It wasn’t a date. No really, it wasn’t.

But you couldn’t help the nerves bubbling up in your stomach as you wait for him to pick you up.

“I think this is disgusting by the way,” Dustin pipes up, scowling as he paces the hallway. Desperately trying to conjure up a plan to stop you from going. He couldn’t think of anything worse than his sister and his best friend dating. He shudders at the mere thought of it.

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion,” rolling your eyes, peering out of the window to see if his car had pulled up yet.

“Why can’t you date any of the other losers in this town? Or someone at college? Why does it have to be Steve?” his shoulders slump, frown evident as he skulks into the living room.

“Oh my God Dustin, stop it. Yanno, the more you complain about it, the more I’m going to make sure it happens,” letting go of the blind and giving him a smug smirk. For his sake, it probably would just be a movie.

You weren’t exactly Steve’s usual type so you were certain that the second someone from school spotted you together he’d probably get embarrassed and drop this little crush. But hey, you could entertain the idea for the summer and perhaps you also had a tiny, smidgen of a crush on him too.

The doorbell rings out and Dustin lets out a ghastly wail, rushing to answer the door before you could. “You never come to the door for me!” he pouts, glaring at Steve who stood nervously on the front porch.

“Because I don’t like you,” Steve jokes, attention quickly pulled from your younger brother as you appear behind him. “You look.. nice,” smiling as Dustin’s eyes ping pong between the two of you.

“Thank you.. so do you,” barging past Dustin who looks positively distraught, “don’t cry too hard,” you call out, walking down the path beside Steve. The door slams when you reach his car and you share a look with Steve, giggling as he opens the door for you.

The second you sit, the nerves come spilling over. This was no longer just a silly thing you could tease Dustin about anymore, it was actually happening and you were here and he was here and you were about to go on a not-date-kinda-date.

You’re both fairly quiet on the ride to the cinema, exchanging small talk about your days and the movie you were about to watch. It was fairly obvious that he’d bought these tickets specifically with you in mind, because Steve Harrington would not willingly watch Friday the 13th, especially not on his own.

“So you accidentally got two tickets, huh?” eyeing him from across the car.

His cheeks flush, bottom lip trembling as he attempts to come up with something to explain his bullshit story, “I- fuck, no.. I didn’t,” looking bashful as he pulls into the parking lot, “I didn’t actually think you’d say yes.”

“Why?”

Steve sighs as he turns off the ignition, “I don’t know.. you’re like cool and in college and I’m just some loser from high school,” shrugging half-heartedly, finally meeting your eyes.

“You’re not a loser.. you were a loser but, I think you’re pretty cool now.”

His eyes widen, his smile fighting to come out, “I think most people would say the opposite,” he certainly didn’t hold the same level of prestige he had in school anymore. In fact, he’d sorta lost it in senior year when he’d decided that people like Tommy H and Carol were not the type he wanted to associate with.

And it wasn’t like he’d lost it all, girls still fawned over him and the basketball team would still get excited to see him but he had kinda just slipped into the background. Another guy who had peaked in high school that was destined to stay in this dead end town with a dead end job and a wife he’d grow to loathe. At least, that’s what he had always pictured.

“Yeah well, I’m not most people,” climbing out of the car. Not once in your life had you ever thought you would be telling Steve Harrington that you thought he was cool. Much less getting out of his car to go see a movie together.

You’re met with a genuine smile from over the roof of the car, he doesn’t need to speak for you to know that he appreciates your words.

For a moment you forget where you are until his eyes linger a little too long and your heart begins to pound again. Pulling your own gaze away and mumbling something about missing the trailers.

It’s unfortunate and a little sickening but you can hardly focus on the film and even though it’s dark, you can feel his eyes shift to your face every few minutes, distracting you from the movie. You don’t look back of course, keeping your eyes firmly glued to the screen.

His hand shifts suspiciously close to your knee, stopping just before he makes contact. You’re trying your hardest not to overthink it. He’s just.. moving his hand. That’s all.

Fuck.

You were fucked.

Your hands are practically trembling as you sit there. Finally gaining enough courage to look back at him the next time his eyes wander.

Steve’s not like you, see. He’s a little nervous of course but he’s had years of experience with girls, knows all the tricks in the book to get them falling for him. And when it really came down to it, he could unleash his moves to have you right where he wanted. His eyes don’t flicker back to the screen, they lower, gazing at your lips instead. He wants to do it. He does. Urging himself to just lunge forward and close the distance between you.

But you’re not like that. You wouldn’t have even looked at him twice in high school, immediately and rightfully passing him off as the dickhead that he was. These tricks were futile on you.

“Watch the movie,” you whisper despite not watching it yourself, blinking rapidly as you feel your cheeks heat up. Praying that the dark of the cinema would shroud your flushed face.

His lips twitch before slowly pulling his eyes away, nodding to himself as an acknowledgement to be on his best behaviour.

It takes every single fibre of your very being to get through the rest of the movie without looking at him again.

“Well I actually enjoyed that,” he professes loudly, walking out of the theatre a few paces behind you.

“Oh? I’m surprised you actually saw any of it,” walking to his car in the pitch black parking lot.

“I wasn’t talking about the movie,” grinning as he lays on that signature charm. It’s shameless and you feel like a fool for even falling for it.

“Shut up,” you mutter, pulling on the door handle as his car remains locked. He sidles up to the passenger side, one side of his mouth curled into a small smile.

“How tired are you on a scale of one to ten?” mere inches from your face.

“Hmm.. a five.”

“Great, get in,” leaning closer to open the door for you, outstretched arm keeping you between his body and the car. You swallow harshly, slipping past him and into the car.

You’re not sure if you like this version of Steve, the one that had the confidence to make you a bumbling fool for him.

“Where are we going?” you eventually pipe up, bewildered that you had just let this boy drive you to this mysterious location without any contest.

“You’ll see.”

The very second he turns onto the darkened road you groan, knowing exactly where he had taken you, his motivations becoming increasingly clear.

“Fucking skull rock?” you exclaim. Everyone had heard the rumours in school, this was his spot and girls were to be extremely appreciative if he brought them here. You should’ve known really, he hadn’t changed a bit.

“Well yes, but that’s not why we’re here.. I swear,” only now realising how scummy this looked but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until it had yours.

Your arms wrap over your chest, jutting your bottom lip out, “then why are we here?” you sounded disgusted with him. How could you have been so stupid?

“Because I-,” the car stops in the tiny lookout spot, “wait, get out of the car,” he instructs, hopping out of his side.

You don’t move a muscle, refusing to fall for his tricks once again. So he walks around the car, opening up your door, “look, I wanna show you something,” his tone is desperate and it makes you ever so slightly believe him.

There was no chance he was that eager to make out with you surely.

Your nostrils flare as you get out of the car, immediately wrapping your arms back around yourself. “What? What could you possibly have to show me out here?”

“Just look,” pointing towards the sky. It was littered with stars, bright and twinkling with the view of Hawkins in the distance. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a sight you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

He chuckles, “I come here sometimes.. just to think and stuff,” scuffing his shoes on the loose stones, “I thought you’d appreciate something like this,” hands shoved into his pockets, gazing at you as you gaze at the sky.

“Wow.. you can see everything from here,” still marvelling in the absolute beauty, blissfully unaware that he was doing the same, just not at the same beauty you were seeing.

“I thought you’d like it,” dragging his feet along to the bonnet of his car, leaning back against the maroon metal. “I’m a little offended that you just assumed that I was tryna get you here for any other reason though,” laughing softly, what more could he do to prove that he was no longer that meathead jock from school?

You finally break your gaze, looking at him as you join him on the bonnet. Heart pounding as your elbow brushes against his as you shuffle further up the car. It’s so silly, you feel like a fool, trying your hardest to contain your flushing cheeks.

“I’m sorry..” admitting that perhaps you were a little harsh, “but can you blame me? We’ve all heard the stories,” purposely knocking your elbow into his arm, wiggling your brows. Turning your attention back to the picturesque view in front of you.

“Yeah yeah.. that was a long time ago, I told you, I’m not like that anymore..” it’s only a tiny lie. He still made out with girls in his car and took them to darkened corners of your tiny town. But see, the difference was that he was actually trying to date these girls, mindless sex was no longer his goal.

“Yeah I can see that now..” your shoulders slump, relaxing as your guard comes down, “thank you, this is a really cool spot and I’m grateful you chose to share that with.. me,” smiling softly.

“You’re like the second girl I’ve ever shown this to.. by the way.”

“Second?” poking fun at him.

“Robin came first, obviously,” choosing to ignore your little dig.

You had wondered why he wasn’t just dating Robin, he was a changed man now and obviously the pair got on like a house on fire so why wouldn’t he have tried it with her? Maybe he had and she’d shut him down. She seemed cool enough in band, definitely not someone that would ever be interested in Steve, no matter how much he had changed.

“Ahh.. obviously,” trying desperately not to sound jealous.

“So you like it?” watching your face instead of the sky once again.

When you pull your eyes away from the sky to look at him, you’re taken aback to find him already staring back. “I love it,” the way the moon illuminated his face left you breathless, struggling to contain your heart in your chest.

“Good..” he smiles before descending into some ramble about the stars and how he had discovered it.

You weren’t interested. Focused on one thing and one thing only. Deciding against your better judgement to just do it. It was utterly reckless and someday you might live to regret it but you’d regret it tomorrow if you didn’t.

Pressing your lips to his, quietening his little tangent. It takes him a moment to register what was happening and you doubt yourself, wanting to pull away and run through the woods hoping to never see him again. But it finally clicks and he springs into action, masterful hand snaking its way through your hair, resting on the back of your head. Keeping you right there, pressed to him just like this forever.

Your hand nervously finds his cheek, brushing over the slight stubble that adorned his jaw. There’s no urgency, no ulterior motives. Pure and simple, only a desperate need to stay like this forever.

You pull away, lips still lingering over his. A small giggle erupts from your throat, crumbling under his stare. “Sorry..” you mutter, still trying to catch your breath, “you were saying something..”

“Sorry?” he exclaims, keeping his hand intertwined in your hair, “don’t ever be sorry for doing that.. like ever,” the stars reflecting off of his chestnut eyes back into yours, his features intricately lit up by the sky.

“Okay..” laughing slightly, “okay.. I’ll keep that in mind,” shying away from his eyes, dipping your head.

There was not one part of you that would have ever guessed that you would be the one to make a move on him first. Or that he could ever be so sweet, so kind and thoughtful and you feel awful for ever just assuming the worst of him without even giving him a chance.

You’re pulled out of your head when his head dips down to match yours, “can we do that again?” thumb tracing back and forth along your neck. You nod quickly, chest bubbling with excitement as his lips connect with yours once more.

It must’ve been gone three by the time you sneak back into your house. Praying that Dustin is already asleep as you sneak back up the creaking stairs.

It’s too late. You’ve been caught.

“Come here,” he whispers harshly, peeking out of his bedroom door, his brows furrowed.

You oblige, slipping into his room and shutting the door quietly, “you gonna give me a lecture?”

“No,” he sits cross-legged on his bed, “I was going to ask if you had a good time,” willing to put his pride behind him for the sake of his dear sister's happiness.

Your frown turns into a grin, joining him on his bed, “I did.. he’s really nice, Dusty,” moving the deconstructed lego set from his duvet so you could scoot closer. “If you really don’t like it.. I can tell him that we can just be friends,” smiling earnestly at your little brother, it would suck but after all, he was Steve’s friend first.

He sighs, swallowing his disgust, “you don’t have to do that..” this is hard for him to even get out, “if you’re happy then.. I’m happy,” giving you his brotherly blessing.

You beam at him, “but, I have some rules that you’re both gonna have to agree to,” setting his boundaries for your budding relationship.

“Shut up,” you giggle, ruffling his mop of curls before collapsing back onto his bed.

You’re happy. Genuinely happy and you’re not sure anything could happen to change that.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x henderson!sister

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cathrrrine · 5 months

Text

Perfect / Love Won’t Die

Dominick “Sonny” Carisi x Reader • Law and Order SVU • Domestic Fluff, AFAB!Reader

Summary: Sonny happily holds the bouquet of flowers he bought for his girlfriend only for her to open the door and start crying. He immediately panics, but soon finds himself amused when she reveals the true reason for her tears. AO3

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my SVU imagines, but I had to with this one :) Happy 2024! My resolution is to post more of my work so I’m digging through all my drafts and posting them lol. Enjoy husband material Carisi <3

In all the six months you had been dating Sonny, there were never many problems that couldn’t be resolved with a simple conversation or a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As far as Sonny was concerned, it was the perfect relationship. He had gotten to know all your little habits; likes and dislikes, pet peeves, niche obsessions. Six months wasn’t exactly a super long time but it wasn’t short either. After only half a year of dating each other, he’d confidently testify that he had fallen in love with you deeply, enough to want to spend the rest of his life with you. He was happy to get married, have babies, grow old together…the whole shebang.

Things were going steady with you. He couldn’t imagine himself being with anybody else, and he was over the moon to know that you felt the samw way. Long late-night conversations about the future the two of you dreamed of revealed that you wanted him to be a part of it as much as he wanted you. Sure, Sonny was aware of how much of a (hopeless) romantic he could be sometimes, but that was in the past, and all of those relationships weren’t with the right people. His sisters had been talking his ear off ever since high school, warning him about women that would only break his heart. It made him wince just to think about all the red flags they ticked off angrily; gold-diggers, manipulators, emotionally unstable women, emotionally unavailable women…and the likes of it. That and their own broken-heart experiences that prompted very fuelled lectures of examples of men Sonny shouldn’t follow always rang in his mind, even until now.

He’d also been made well aware of how right they were about his exes with a bunch of ‘I told you so’s’ and narrowed eyes, but those relationships were in the past and he was much, much younger (and dumber) than he is now. He only had a couple of serious relationships in his adulthood, which ended up not being the right fit for either parties. Then, his love life got buried under the heavy, heavy load of police work and law school and he never found the time to make himself available in the dating pool. He was always too tired, too beat, too mentally drained. It was never a priority.

Then everything came to a stop and his whole world wouldn’t do anything but revolve around you. Sonny was smitten, like a lovesick puppy who got shot by cupid’s nuclear-powered bazooka as fate would have it.

He never felt this way about anyone in his life before, it was a feeling he relished in and was adamant on not letting go.

You were perfect.

Obviously, you had your flaws, but all only human, none of them fatal. Like how you had a habit of ordering too much food but he ends up being the one to finish it up when you realised your eyes had been bigger than your appetite — but he didn’t mind that at all, in fact he secretly loved being able to feast like a King — or how sometimes, you would arrive 10 minutes late to your dates on one of your busiest weeks, which he never complained about because he had his fair share of being unpunctual as well. Plus, you always made it up to him one way or another.

You were absolutely perfect, inside and out. Sonny thanked God everyday for sending a woman as smart, beautiful and kind as you his way. He’s never felt so lucky.

Sonny knew and loved everything about you, down to your weirdest quirks. If there was a Jeopardy! game where the topic was You, he’d be waving around his trophy like a mad man. What you didn’t tell him, he learned. It was the same way you got to know him. The two of you were always honest with each other, trust being the pillar of your relationship, it was why you got along so well. You knew how to make him happy, as he did for you.

So, why is it that you were crying as he handed you a bouquet of your favourite flowers as soon as you opened the door to your apartment?

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” His sweet smile dropped to a concerned frown, uncomfortable and nervous at your sudden reaction.

There you were in front of him, dressed in your most comfortable pair of pyjama pants and an oversized tee that he was sure once belonged to him, messy hair up that he found extremely adorable. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the fact that…well, you were crying.

He always brought you flowers. Was he late? He glanced at the clock on your wall. No…was it something he said? Something he did? Something…he totally forgot about?

“Nothing- no, everything’s fine, nothing’s wrong.” You sniffed, hugging the fresh bouquet close to your chest, dipping your nose into the floral fragrance to smell it only to find that the tears had triggered an onslaught of snot. That only made you cry more.

The bubble of nerves in Sonny’s chest was bursting at this point, he was almost worried he was having a heart attack. “Doll, you’re crying, something’s wrong.”

He held out an arm to pull you into a hug and you eagerly sunk into his embrace. You buried your face into the fabric of his suit jacket, breathing in what you could of his faded perfume. His calloused hands stroked your hair, softly caressing your head as he cradled it. He gently peeled you off of him to get a better look of your face, now red and eyes puffy from sobbing.

He held your cheeks between his palms and you pouted, looking up at him with sad doe-like eyes, and if that didn’t break his heart that he must not have one because the look on your face was shattering him in every possible way right now. One of his thumbs swiped a fresh tear off your cheek, he felt you nuzzle into his hand.

The tall blond gently led you to your couch and set the flowers down on the coffee table before cuddling up with you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms around him desperately, wanting nothing more than to be absolutely engulfed by everything Sonny — scent, skin and biceps.

“You’re killing me sweetheart, you gotta tell me what’s gotten you all upset like this.” You felt him kiss the top of your head and love bloomed in your chest immediately. “Come on, doll, what’s up?”

You sighed, big and loud, huffing away all the choked up tears with one big breath. “I swear it’s nothing. I’m so stupid.”

He was quiet for a while until you felt his voice vibrate from his chest again, “Was it…me? Did I do something wrong?”

You whipped your head to look at him, only to be greeted with a very worried expression.

Oh, Sonny. Oh, sweet heavenly innocent Sonny. How could you not love this man with every fibre of your being when he’s got that look in his eyes? The one where his pupils are so dilated, you could see your reflection in his big, blue puppy eyes.

How could you have been so careless?! Of course he’d think you were crying because of him, the sweet stupid man — God, you loved him so much. The thought only made you more emotional…and just like that the waterworks came rushing back in.

“Oh, God, Sonny-“ you hiccuped, pulling yourself away from him to put your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry- it’s not your fault at all,”

The lovesick, worried-sick man shot up next to you to pull you into his arms once again, stomach churning at the wave of emotions you were going through. He couldn’t even detective his way through this, his mind going haywire with every sniff that came from you.

“Then what is it?” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, “Did something happen at work? Is it that asshole again?”

With what he dealt with at his job, it wasn’t out of the question for his mind to be going down that dark path, but he shoved his anger and panic down to focus on your well-being, remaining rational until you were calm.

That made you shoot up to look at him again, words tumbling out of your mouth hurriedly to curb his worries. “No, no! I’m okay, I’m absolutely fine, Todd — that ass — didn’t do anything to me, I promise you, I swear to God. And it’s not you, it’s not anything even remotely related to anything sane at all. I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over a bunch of random things, it’s just so—“

“Doll.” Your boyfriend’s voice pulled you out of your rambling. The loving concern that radiated off of him was enough to bring you back to your senses. Gently, he asked again. “What is it?”

You melted immediately, both embarrassed and exhausted from all the sobbing you had been doing. “I’m on my period.”

Oh.

Oh!

“I know, I’m not usually this emotionally affected but my hormones are all over the place and my TV decided to autoplay The Notebook, now I’m a mess.” You sniffed. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like this, much less deal with me.”

It was only then that the detective noticed the TV screen, paused on Ryan Gosling’s frowning face.

He tried to stifle his amusement, but it came out in a fit of giggles, much to your dismay.

“It’s not funny.” You pouted.

“I just— I thought—“ His laughter consumed him, shoulders shaking as he held up his palms to his face and ran his fingers through his hair, uncaring of how it would mess it up. Sonny leaned back into the couch and continued to laugh with his hands over his face.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was so quiet it came out like a squeak, ashamed of how you cried like a baby in front of him. Although the two of you spent plenty times over at each other’s places and hanging out with each other, over the six months he knew you, you never had your hormones hit you this hard. It wasn’t uncommon to you, but it wasn’t a regular occurrence either, and it certainly wasn’t an event Sonny had the pleasure of experiencing…until today.

“It’s okay if you’d prefer to be at your own place right now, I totally get it. I won’t be offended in the least, okay? I’ll call you in the morning.” Some men in the past have been weirded out when this happened to you, so you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be offended — it was ‘your fault’ anyway, that was what you had grown accustomed to.

But Sonny, the ever-loving and understanding guy, did not share the same view. Of course not! Raised-with-sisters, loves-his-mother, thoroughly Italian, good-Catholic-man-who-respects-women Sonny, would never in a million years ever even think about being upset with you just because your period messed with your emotions. And that’s why you weren’t sure why you were so surprised when he responded to your offer with a kiss.

This was Sonny. He would never think lowly of you because of something you couldn’t control.

“That’s crazy talk, doll.” He mumbled into the kiss, smiling as he continued to love on your lips. “I’d never leave you alone like this.”

You pulled away a bit to properly look at his face, “Really?”

This was the man your heart belonged to. You don’t know how you didn’t explode when he gave you the most charming smile that ever graced his lips.

“Really.”

Everything you were worried about solved itself into place, like sentient puzzle pieces figuring themselves out with confidence.

“You’re too good for me.”

Unabashedly, you continued to make out with your boyfriend on your couch, a newfound appreciation driving you mad with love.

“I’m only for you, babe. Don’t need anyone or anything else but you.”

———

Now that the two of you were freshened up and settled down with mugs of hot cocoa in your hands, you and Sonny were much more at ease.

There was nothing better to Sonny than to be cuddled up with his girlfriend with her head laying on his chest. You practically clung to the arm draped over your shoulder, making a nest out of his bicep for your face — which reminded him of a koala bear, but he kept that thought to himself. He was so comfortable, so happy that this was his life. His nose pressed against your hair, the scent of your shampoo reminding him of a holiday well-spent together in Mexico. Deja Vu hit him the minute he kissed your head, laughing through his nose when he remembered the events that happened just a few hours prior.

“Hey,” he nudged you with the arm you were glued to. You pulled your focus from the movie you were watching — a comedy, nothing that would make the ‘bloody demon hormones possess me’ as you put it — and raised your eyebrows curiously in response. “I’m just wonderin’…”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you cry when I gave you the flowers?”

You groaned, still somewhat embarrassed at the flurry of emotions you attacked the innocent man with. But you humoured the question anyway, “I opened the door and you were standing there, so handsome and so sickeningly charming, holding up flowers that you brought for me. You should be worried if I didn’t cry.”

“Wow,” he whistled. “I’m really that handsome, huh?”

You playfully hit him in the chest with your fist as you resumed your initial position, “Shut up.” A smirk managed to rip it’s way through your lips. “But mostly, I was crying because I was so sad that the flowers were going to die. I don’t know, just weird how my brain works on my period.”

It was a nonchalant mention, nothing big to you, but it stuck to his mind. Flowers dying made you upset. How precious was that? He catalogued the thought, filing it away for the future. The inkling of humour tempted him, though.

“So, not so much on the handsome part?”

You snorted, “Eh, I’ll give it a 60/40.”

“It should be in the news or something. ‘Guy So Handsome, Makes A Grown Woman Cry’” he gestured in the air as if there was a banner.

“How about, ‘Girl So Hormonal, Makes A Grown Man Cry With Her’?”

“Psh, I didn’t cry.”

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

You laughed, thinking he’d given it up when the sound of the movie began to fade into your hearing again.

“You should come over the precinct, tell the guys how I can make the ladies cry just by showing up at their door.”

He wore that goofy, toothy grin you were so accustomed to whenever he was joking around.

You rolled your eyes. Then decided to mess with him. “Excuse me? Ladies? Plural?”

The grin immediately wiped off of his face. “No- I meant lady, as in singular.”

“Mhmm.”

“I mean— no, that’s not what—“

“Sure, Son.” The monotonous voice you used made him sweat.

“You know you’re the only gal for me! I was just joking…hey, baby, come on, look at me…”

———

Months passed by and relationship milestones came and went. You finally met his family on month eight, and him yours. Month ten, you got a promotion at work and thankfully — not by your doing — Todd left the company. Sonny and the rest of the SVU team made a breakthrough on a case, you met his coworkers you heard so much about for the first time when he brought you along for their celebratory dinner. He was teased relentlessly for ‘keeping such a wonderful woman from us all this time’. You enjoyed the camaraderie that they shared with each other, and felt like you won a prize when they extended it to you.

Time passed by you so fast that you barely noticed it was almost a full year since you and Sonny made it official.

The day of your anniversary, he made reservations for the two of you at a fancy restaurant — Italian, of course. You reminisced the journey of your relationship together over some fine dining and a delightful bottle of wine. The ambiance, mixed with the light-headed feeling from one too many glasses of wine, only made the love you had for Sonny so much more emphasised. It was a dream, to be loved by such an amazing man, to have found your soulmate. If you weren’t at such busy points of your career, you’d literally have his babies right then and there. A couple of mini Sonny’s would do the world good, you pondered. Unbeknownst to you, the subject of your thoughts was thinking the exact same thing, only he was dreaming up a babble of mini You’s instead.

Sonny and you walked home together — he had basically moved into your apartment by now, he was finding it harder and harder to be separated from you at night. Having you next to him made him sleep better, and just generally being around you made him feel better — the two of you never made his move-in an official thing, but there was no need to. It was almost like you shared a telepathic connection. Although, Sonny being Sonny, will make the moving in an official thing whether you needed to or not. Maybe into an actual house, with a backyard and a huge kitchen and a family to raise in to make it a home. One day. Maybe even tomorrow. He’d do anything, anytime with you.

“Got you something, by the way.” He grinned, keys jangling on the doorknob as he swung it open for you.

“Sonny, you didn’t have to.” You blushed. One year together and he still had that effect on you.

“Well, I wanted to.”

While you were taking off your shoes, he used it as a distraction to take it out of the hiding spot he so carefully planned — his height being an advantage to said plan — and waddled over in his socks to where you were sitting on the couch, handing it to you once he was sat as well.

It was a daintily patterned gift bag, not too big and not too small either, with a card attached to it on the front. You carefully removed it to read his words in neat handwriting.

Happy 1 year anniversary, doll. I love you so much. You make me the luckiest man alive. My love for you will never die.

You wanted to cry, so touched by his short but undeniably sweet words. He saw how your bottom lip jutted out, the way it usually did when emotions got the best of you, and smiled to himself with a bit of pride in getting his words right.

Slowly, you pried the top of the bag open, only discovering a plastic dome. “Careful.” Your boyfriend noted.

You wondered what it was, going over all the possibilities in your head as you took it out of the bag; lava lamp, necklace, tiny bottle, lantern…only to gasp when you saw what it really was inside.

A small sphere-shaped cactus with a crown of pink flowers, placed inside a white ceramic pot with the words, ‘My love for you will never die’ engraved in cursive writing around it.

Ahhhh, here come the waterworks.

“Sonny,” your eyebrows scrunched up, lips fully pouting now. “This is the sweetest fucking gift ever.”

Your use of words didn’t go unnoticed by the smiling man, earning you a chuckle out of him. “I remember the time you cried when I brought you flowers, and you told me it was because you were sad ‘bout them dying…it’s cheesy, I know. Corny, a bit. But I thought you’d like it.”

The rising inflection of his voice gave away his nerves, but you were quick to make your appreciation known. “I do, I do! It’s just the most beautiful and thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you, baby. I’m- Aw…“

You choked up and he took that as his cue to pull you into his arms, careful to set the prickly plant down so you wouldn’t accidentally get hurt.

“It’s true though, my love will never die. You’re stuck with me for as long as you want me.”

“You know I’m shit at keeping plants alive, Son!” You couldn’t help the wavering in your voice, “Oh, but this is just so, so sweet. You’re just too cute for your own good.”

“Well, I was cute enough for you to accept the babbling guy who asked you out a year ago.” The giggling that followed made his blue eyes seem brighter.

“Yeah, I couldn’t say no to that face.”

You took the comfortable silence that ensued as a segue to your own offering to him, “Speaking of this cactus being put at the risk of dying, I’m gonna have to appoint someone to remind me it needs water every now and then.”

“I’m assuming that would be me?”

“Yup.” You shifted around to look through your purse. “So, I was thinking…”

Sonny narrowed his eyes at you, “Thinking…?”

You held out your palm and reached out for his, dropping a familiar weight into his hands. As soon as you pulled your hands away, the object revealed itself to be a single silver key with a brown leather strap keychain attached to the ring, ‘Det. Carisi’ engraved on one side and ‘Sonny’ on the other.

He looked up at you, meeting eager eyes that matched his own. You were practically bouncing with giddiness, excited to reach yet another milestone.

“Move in with me? Officially?”

God, you were so perfect.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

#sonny carisi #law and order svu #peter scanavino #dominick carisi #dominick sonny carisi #detective carisi #law and order svu imagine #sonny carisi x reader #carisi imagine #carisi x you #period fic

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ohbabydollie · 3 months

Text

The Brown House

800 follower celebration

thank you all for the love you’ve shown my fics, i started writing this year and im so happy all of you enjoy my stuff, now that i have found enjoyment in writing again. I’m glad you guys especially the mutual break up. now please sit back and enjoy my formal thank you

Schlatt bought a house, it was a lovely cream color with a brown roof, enough space for a decently sized family. It had a large yard with a lovely wooden fence.

Yes, the home was a little old, but it was nice and in a lovely area.

Schools within a walking distance, a little market, church, anything and everything he could ever need to raise a family.

The only problem was that he didn’t have a family, it was just him, jambo and soup.

So he had invited you down there, just for a week or whenever you needed an escape from life.

He didn’t mind being your escape from the stressful life you lived.

He didn’t mind one bit, as long as it meant he could be by your side, enjoying a coffee in the morning or making dinner in the evening. Waking up early after to watch the sunrise together on the porch, sipping the warm coffee in your mugs, blanket draped over your shoulders.

It was the true definition of tranquility.

Just you and him together.

Just you and him.

You and Him.

His heart squeezed at the thought, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company, whether in silence or conversations that lasted hours, feeling never ending.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the fucking part of your relationship.

That would probably be one of his favorite parts.

Having you moaning underneath him, holding onto him. The sloppy, passionate kissing, caring about no one else besides each other in the moment. Feeling you, smelling you, your presence.

He loved it all so much.

It was the closest way the both of you could get.

The way you both said next to nothing but understood every single word and movement.

He had never felt as close to anyone as you, ever. You understood him in a way no one else did.

You understood why he was the way he was, why he seemed so brash and harsh on the outside but was so sweet and soft on the inside. You knew his insecurities, how to make him feel better, how to make him feel loved.

Peppering kisses all over his face, calling him handsome, giggling as you felt his facial hair rub against you.

Fuck, he loves it so much

He loves you so much

You’re the biggest blessing that could be in his life, while his job is great too, he could live without his job, it’s just money, but he couldn’t live without you.

He couldn’t live without your sweet smile, the sounds of your laughter, the way your food tastes, the warmth you give off. The way when you walk into a room and light it up, no matter how gloomy it was before.

He was so deeply and utterly dumb in love for you.

Your break up was probably his least favorite part of your relationship.

The fact that you couldn’t handle the way people treated you online once your relationship was public.

He knew it was bound to happen, he had just tried shielding you from it, but he couldn’t keep it hidden forever. He knew he was hated and people who associated with him were too, so by being his partner he had placed that curse upon you.

And you were fine for the first few years, ignoring it, acting like you were fine, happy in your relationship. That was until you kept seeing people saying you only went into the relationship to stay relevant, that you don’t deserve your popularity or even the ability to have a career, that you deserve to lose your career and other awful things.

It didn’t bother you until it came down to your appearance, hearing about how people think your boyfriend deserved a hotter partner, someone who actually had something to offer, someone who’s makeup wasn’t as cakey, who didn’t have to wear as much makeup and still be hot.

It only got worse and worse until you realized you couldn’t look into the mirror without crying, without thinking “doesn’t he deserve better?” “I wish I looked better” and other awful things.

The brown house ended up being your escape from it all.

You never really bothered looking at your phone unless there was a text or call from a friend or family member. You were focused on the lovely life you were living with schlatt.

The life you had always dreamed of since you were a kid. One of a big home and even bigger yard with a fence and in a walkable neighborhood.

The brown house felt like Schlatt had seen into your childhood and ripped out the home of your dreams from your mind directly. Like he saw directly into your brain, manifesting it into reality just for you along with the type of relationship you always wanted.

One that made you feel loved and valued, one where you both could love. One that wasn’t crowded with affairs and lovers, one that wasn’t like the relationship of your parents.

One where you felt genuine and real love.

No lies, no deception, nothing, just you and him.

That’s what you loved about Schlatt, that he was your person.

He remembered the way you liked your coffee, the metal you wore, if you liked Pepsi or Coke more, your guilty pleasures. It was the little things.

He especially remembered the way to pleasure you, kissing you, teasing you, and no matter how aggressive he was or wasn’t, he made you feel one thing.

Love

He didn’t only fuck you, he made love to you, genuine and real love.

Just like now.

Kiss after kiss, Schlatt softly holding onto you as you sit on his lap, facing him. His large hands are tracing up and down your sides before they go underneath your baggy sweater and rest on your back.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much doll” he mutters, pressing soft kisses to your neck, occasionally lingering to suck on it. “So much” he says as you giggle from feeling his wet kisses

“Missed you too, so much” you say running a hand through his hair.

Schlatt signals you to pull your arms out of the sleeves and he gently pulls the sweater off of you, smiling at the familiar sight.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty doll” he says moving his hands up to your nipples, watching them get hard from the cold hair. He leans in, to suck on them gently, you let out a soft whine. He parts from one with a “pop” before moving onto the other one, playing with the wet nipple with his thumb. You let out a soft whine from the mixed sensations as he parts from your other tit and starts to play with them.

“Can’t believe this is all mine” he says softly “my pretty girl, jus’ for me” he coos, watching you moan and squirm underneath his touch.

He’s already so hard and so needy for you, but he can hold off as long as he gets to watch you act this way, all whiny and cute just for him. Schlatt can feel you rubbing up against him, moaning and begging for him, your wetness dripping through your panties and onto his sweatpants.

“Need you so much” you mewl, he grins and lets go of your boobs, letting them drop.

“Ya sure doll? ‘Cause once you commit, I’m not gonna let you go back on your word” he rasps, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You nod, “I’m sure, i want you so bad jay” you whine.

Schlatt lifts you up slightly, lowering his pants and letting his cock out. He pulls your panties to the side, letting a groan out as he feels how wet you’ve gotten.

He teases your clit with the tip of his cock causing you to moan softly at the feeling. He aligns the tip of his cock with your entrance before placing his hands on your hips and sinking you down. You let out a moan at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

“Oh fuck” you sob, schlatt gently moving you up and down his cock, slowing down once he hears you.

“you okay dolly? Not bein’ too rough am I?” He asks you softly you shake your head no and he starts back up again, pressing kisses to your face.

The sensation of him thrusting in and out out you alongside the kisses has you moaning and whining softly. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and you lean into him as his pace increases.

You hug him tightly, the only thing you can hear is the slapping of skin

“love you so much” you whine before pressing kisses soft and wet to his neck.

“Fuck! I love ya too doll, so fuckin much” he says, arms now wrapping around your waist as he speeds up faster and faster, the sounds becoming quicker and louder.

“I'm gonna cum! gonna cum!” You moan, only encouraging him to continue

“Go on honey, cum for me, cum on my cock” he growls as you start to come undone.

With a thrust he hits your g-spot causing you to throw your head back, letting out a high pitched scream as you cum.

He fucks you through your orgasm, cooing at you before cumming inside you with one harsh thrust.

Both of you sit there for a second, catching your breath before collapsing in his arms.

Schlatt lets out a satisfied sigh, leaning onto the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Love you so much” you say laying next to him, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. You hug him gently but tighter, not wanting to let go.

“Whaddaya say if we finish playin’ this little game and get married?” Schlatt asks you softly, you let out a soft giggle.

“ ‘course, we’re living the dream here” you mutter. Schlatt is absolutely beaming at his, peppering kisses all over your face before stopping to look at you. You giggle as he smiles, going in for another kiss.

Suddenly Schlatt hears something from afar, distracting him from the moment.

A sound that slowly gets louder and louder.

Beep

His eyes open and he looks around, he’s in his bed, in his room, not in the brown house, but in the house in Houston.

Then it hits him, the brown house was just a dream.

And the life he made with you was also just a dream.

I hope u guys enjoyed this :3

I can finally post the ask a nonnie sent that would’ve spoiled this

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