#not really anyways I’m just weighing my options here
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fragile line | daniel ricciardo
pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader
You and I walk a fragile line
I have known it all this time
But I never thought I'd live to see it break
what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt?
word count: 7.7k (im so sorry)
warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster
“What do you know?”
“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information.
His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt.
“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try.
“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”
“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.
You.
“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”
“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”
Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was.
“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”
Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did.
You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better.
Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point.
You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues.
Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated.
Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word.
The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco.
Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend.
“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”
You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you.
It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you.
“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there.
You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”
“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”
You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”
“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”
You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you.
But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.
So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager.
He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever.
He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.
He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.
It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen.
He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers.
“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”
Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck.
But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.
Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about.
“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could.
“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?”
You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained.
It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time.
“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.
“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.
“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”
That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.
Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time.
People speculated, of course. Questions were asked.
Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?
You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes.
Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you.
People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking?
But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic.
At least, you thought you didn’t.
Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”
“Are any crashes pretty?”
He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.”
The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing.
“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”
“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.”
You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.”
“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”
And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while.
Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment.
He wasn’t going to let it escape him.
“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you.
You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere.
And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend.
You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could.
Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”
There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips.
You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words.
You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth.
His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him.
When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.
“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications.
But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.
“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”
That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.
Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before.
It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.
When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.
He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain.
But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear.
He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat.
He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.
“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”
It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night.
Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team.
Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time.
People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful.
You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed.
Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too.
It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between.
When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride.
It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car.
Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.
You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you.
When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage.
At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.
You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you.
But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story.
“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday.
You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest.
“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”
“I’m not Australian.”
“You’re dating one, sweets.”
You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered.
“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out.
“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner.
You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts.
“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea.
Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”
He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel.
You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry.
The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.
Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on?
You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.
But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.
Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1.
It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different.
Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race.
And somehow, you won.
After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe.
You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red.
Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you.
Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team.
He was so proud of you.
Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else.
You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching.
It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that.
He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining.
Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name.
Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love.
And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it.
After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love.
You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence.
But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions.
“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?”
You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.
“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face.
Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently.
“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”
“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”
“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”
“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.
The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation.
You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.
Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season.
He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it.
Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren.
But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.
“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”
It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.
Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel.
“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023.
“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”
You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”
“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”
It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early.
It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.
And who were you to turn that down?
A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.
You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”
“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked.
Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.
But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”
And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders.
You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different.
You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break.
Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily.
The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.
The 2023 seat was yours.
You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?
It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news.
But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.
You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?
Right?
You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.
You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.
Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.
Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.
Usually, he was happy to see you.
You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.
“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest.
Your heart sank.
You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.
“What do you know?” you asked.
“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.
You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”
“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”
“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”
Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”
“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”
He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.
“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”
It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.
But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.
Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.
“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”
You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.
“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”
“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”
“I think you should go,” was his only response.
“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”
Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Dan-”
“Leave.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done.
You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work.
“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life.
Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?
You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other.
Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”
You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?
Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?
It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”
He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.
Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.
Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you.
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”
You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three.
You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.
Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.
You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career.
This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel.
part 2 haunted
#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo one shot#danny ric#dr3#f1 one shot#f1 fics#formula 1 x you#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo au
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goal part 2 // hockey!chris
summary: your boyfriend tries to take some pressure off you by taking you on a late night ice skating date
part one, part three
“Chris,” I groan. “I have a final tomorrow. I really shouldn’t go out.”
“The fact that you have a final is the exact reason why you should go out,” he argues. We’ve been on the phone for ten minutes, the entire call consisting of Chris trying to persuade me to ditch my studying and head to wherever his plan is to take us. That's part of the issue. If I knew what he wanted to do, maybe I wouldn’t be so hesitant to leave tonight. “You’ve been so stressed out this semester. Let’s end it right.”
I go silent, weighing my options. When I don’t answer fast enough, Chris continues his methods of convincing me.
“Come onnnnn. I’ll come pick you up and we can go have some fun.”
I sigh, unable to win this argument.
“Pick you up in 15?”
“See you then.”
“Bye baby.”
I tidy up my study space, which consists of scattered notes and multicolored pens, color-coding different sections of my pages.
After my room is cleaned to my liking, which is just enough to where it doesn’t look like a tornado came through, I pull on a sweatshirt and another jacket over top, considering the weather in the North East is below freezing.
I run down the steps to my apartment complex, finding Chris in his car out front. The light hum of rap music playing seeps out of the car, and I’m met with the sound of no other than his favorite artist when I open the door.
The door opening catches his attention. He looks up from his phone, a soft smile on his face. “Hi.”
“Hi, pretty boy.” I cup his chin with my left hand as I buckle myself with the other, kissing his lips. When I pull back, his eyes are still closed, and his smile is only growing. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” he finally says as he puts the car in drive and peels out of my lot. His hand alternates between holding my hand and my thigh, sometimes drawing circles on my knee, other times squeezing my hand and playing with my fingers. It’s obvious that his love language is physical touch. It’s like his battery dies if our bodies aren’t connected in some way, whether it’s him thrusting into me or him giving my hand soft kisses while he drives. I can feel him recharge just by touching me, and something about that makes me feel powerful.
The drive is silent on our part, other than the music playing lowly out of the speakers. I don’t ask question, but rather stare at him as he makes each turn, continuing down paths I’m unfamiliar with, insisting it’s the backway. Eventually, we pull up to a place I am very familiar with.
“The hockey rink?” I ask, watching him unbuckle and get out of the car. I quickly do the same.
“Yeah,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. He pulls his beanie down over his ears, which have turned a soft shade of red in the cold.
I jog to catch up with him. “Isn’t it closed for the night?”
“Mhm,” he hum, but he finds a way inside anyway. I follow him anxiously as we head to the locker room, where all of his hockey gear is stored. He grabs his own skates, tells me to wait for him to return, and comes back with skates for me.
“How’d you get those?” I ask timidly.
He tosses them down at the floor, then kneels down to help me tie them. “From the rentals.” I don’t bother making a point of the fact that no student is there working the rentals, and not only are we trespassing, but we’re also stealing. My anxiety is skyrocketing. I was already worried about my final and making sure I had ample time to study, and now I have my boyfriend breaking and entering with me as his stupid sidekick. “We’re fine, babe,” he assures me as if he can read my mind. “Do you know how often I come here to practice after hours? As long as we don’t fuck anything up, we’re fine.”
“So no stealing the zamboni?” I tease, starting to loosen up.
He breathes out a laugh, then stands after tying my skates before he rests his foot on a bench to tie his own. “Definitely not.”
He holds my hand as I struggle to walk properly on my skates. Once we make it to the ice, he takes my hands carefully, holding them securely as he steps backwards onto the rink.
“I got your hands,” he assures me. We’ve had numerous ice skating dates since we started going out, but still, my hockey boyfriend is unable to teach me how to maneuver on the ice.
I nod uneasily, trying to think of anything other than falling. Chris holds my arms, skating backwards slowly, pulling my body with him. I probably look ridiculous, but he’s grinning, happy to be sharing his safe space with me.
“There you go!” he cheers. “You got it, baby!”
I nod, smiling a bit, trying to lift my own feet and skate by myself. It works the first few strides, until I lose my balance and start to go down. He catches me before I can fall, hooking his hands under my arms and pulling me back up.
“That was really good. You’re doing a lot better than when you started.”
In no way am I trying to become an olympic skater, but it would be nice if I could stand on my own two feet when skating with my boyfriend who has played hockey since he could walk.
He continues to pull me around the ice, praising me for my attempts to take control of my own feet. Eventually, we lay down on the ice, one arm behind his head, and the other wrapped around me. We stare at the ceiling of the rink, a comfortable silence forming before I break it.
“What are we going to do when we graduate?”
This question has been eating at both of us. I’m not from this city, and he is. He has scouts looking at him for professional hockey, but he has no idea if he plans on playing in the NHL. I need to take advantage of getting my career started, but I don’t want to leave him.
“We still have another year,” he reminds me, but I know at this point that this is his way of avoiding my question.
“I know but I don’t know if I plan on staying in Boston,” I add.
He inhales sharply. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
I lift my head up, turning over to him so he can focus on me and our conversation. This is important, Chris. Please listen to me. “What's going to happen with us?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about this,” he repeats, his eyes burning holes in mine. I start to feel mine well up, and to stop myself from shedding a tear over his tone and the topic of conversation, I set my head on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
It takes him a second, but he puts his hand on my back, his cheek pressing on the top of my head. “What final do you have tomorrow?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Psychology.” The sight of my colorful notes are engraved in my brain.
“What time?”
“Noon.”
“Do you want to get lunch after?” he suggests. “My treat since you’ve been working so hard.”
“That sounds nice,” I nod. “How are your finals going?”
“I’m passing,” he answers shortly. “That’s all that matters.”
I give him a look. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. The thing with Chris is that he’s very smart, he just doesn’t care about college, and I really don’t think he would have gone if he hadn’t received a hockey scholarship. The only reasons his brothers attended were because they received the same scholarship, and they all wanted to stick together. He’s majoring in Entrepreneurship. His brain is flooded with creative ideas that it seemed like the best option for him to be able to study while pursuing hockey.
“The classes that matter are the ones I’m doing better in,” he says, noting his few business classes. “The stupid shit like history that has no relevance to my degree, that’s a different story. All that matters is that I pass so I can play hockey.”
He hates talking about school. I can see it on his face. He wishes I would change the subject. It’s obvious.
I press a kiss to his soft lips. He returns the act, then shocks me when he speaks.
“Stay here for Christmas.”
I feel my heart fall into my stomach, I try not to stumble over my words. “I can’t, I have to visit my family.”
“Do you think you could come like… the day after, sometime really close to Christmas?” he poses instead. “I wanna feel like we’re celebrating the day of.”
It warms my heart that he wants to celebrate this together. We haven’t discussed much of it. We’re not really the gift giving kind of couple. We care so much more about these moments, where it’s just us holding each other.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I answer him, unable to give a clear answer. “I can definitely be here for new years.”
“Good,” he smiles, content. “You owe me a kiss.”
“Oh do I?” I tease, leaning up to him.
“Mhm.”
I press another kiss to his lips. His hands snake around my back, his tongue opening my lips before gliding against mine. A quiet moan leaves my mouth as his hand tangles in my hair. My hand holds his jaw, begging for more of him.
That’s when I flinch at the sound of the main lights being flashed on.
Chris pulls back, his eyes widening as he struggles to stand up. “Oh fuck.” He grabs my hand and pulls me up, skating off the ice and dragging me behind him. “Shit shit shit shit shit,” he chants.
“What is it?” I ask, trying to look behind me and find whoever is here.
Chris bends down in front of me, untying our laces and yanking our skates off our feet. I almost fall over at the force of him pulling mine off.
“Okay, well,” he starts, already out of breath. “I may have lied a little.”
My eyes widen. “What??”
I follow his jog to the locker room where he grabs his things and tosses me my shoes,
“I do come here sometimes to skate and clear my head,” he admits. “But that usually ends at 8, sometimes 9 depending on the day of the week.”
“What time is it now?” I ask, and when he turns his phone over to me, I feel my stomach drop.
1:22 am.
How long were we here?
“You guys can’t be in here!” someone shouts from a distance. “Trespassing on property can result in expulsion, and if you aren’t a student, I could have you arrested!”
My eyes widen, fear written all over me.
“Shh. It’s fine. Just follow my lead,” he says. I nod once, then watch him dig around in his hockey bag. He pulls out his helmet, tugs it down on my head to cover my face, then pulls his own hoodie up. He grabs my hand, and on his cue, I’m sprinting out of the building with him.
“Hey!”
“Go go go!” Chris tells me. I run in front of him, turning around at the sound of hockey sticks clattering on the floor.
Chris yanked down a bucket of 20 hockey sticks, causing a mess in front of whoever is chasing us, giving us a few extra seconds to get out of here.
I jump in the car, not even realizing that the helmet is still on my head. Chris’ wheels squeal as he speeds out of the parking lot, finally getting buckled once we’re away. The sound of his laughter snaps me back into it.
“What?!” I ask him, annoyed that he could find this situation funny.
“You look cute as fuck in my helmet.”
I reach for the face mask, trying to pull it off, only struggling in the process. He reaches over and removes it for me.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says, fixing my hair. “Garrett in there is a dick. He has this whole god complex because he works after hours. Weird as hell.”
“I should really go home and get some sleep before my final.”
He nods, guilt displayed on his face. “Can I have a do over tomorrow after your final? Your casual lunch date just got upgraded because I feel bad.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I tease, kissing his cheek before he drops me off at home.
#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader
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Hi
Can I please request a fic with Taylor swift x fem!reader where they are in a PR relationship and reader is a really big actress and in her late twenties and she’s an introvert and likes to build legos and play Mario cart and she’s a big softie and incredibly sweet but the catch is Taylor and her friends don’t really like the reader whenever she has to hangout with them they always ignore her and make her feel uncomfortable and unwanted between them and one day she goes live on instagram or TikTok and she’s building a Lego with her fans it’s something that she does a lot and the Lego just happens to be a lovers house one to support Taylor and the fans just go crazy meanwhile Taylor is with her friends and they are talking about how the reader is annoying and weird and always quiet and then one of them mentions how the reader is live now so they get on to spy on her and they realize how nice and cute the reader is and someone in the comments asks the reader about Taylor and she starts gushing about Taylor with a love struck smile on her face because she secretly likes Taylor and wants to pursue her for real and then later on they start treating the reader better and they go on real dates together and it’s just fluff. Sorry this is long you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to I just had this idea for a long time and wanted to share it but if you do end up writing it can you make it with as much details and events as possible. Thank you so much
note: this is such a cute idea!! it’s fairly different because i changed it up a bit to make it easier to write. thanks for the request! not proofread.
IT’S LIKE I’M WASTING YOUR HONOR
pairing: taylor swift x fem!reader
warnings: taylor coming to her senses, sad but amazing folklore song
masterlist
to say you were in love with your PR girlfriend was an understatement. you knew it the from the moment you had met her and heard her laugh at a corny joke that slipped from your nervous lips. taylor had been incredibly kind to you and had seemed to notice things others had never thought to mention to you. you were doomed.
you two began a PR relationship for many reasons, the number one being that it would help taylor’s prideful content reach further to others who were part of the lgbtq+ community.
now obviously you knew taylor wasn’t as in love with you as you were her; or if she even really loved you at all. but you didn’t let that stop you. after all, you two were supposed to act madly in love anyway.
so now you sit here on live building a lover house lego set that the company sent you two. taylor left four hours ago to go spend some time with her model friends and you had simply kissed her on the cheek and wished her a good time as she left.
your eyes scan the comments that speed past and you catch onto one of them in particular. “does taylor show you her song writing process?” you read aloud the comment.
you think about the question for a moment, trying to figure out what you can reveal on live without getting a call from tree. you weigh your options and decide fuck it. with a smile you answer, “sometimes she does. it’s mostly after we’ve had a few glasses of wine that she sings to me. half of the songs i hear on guitar or piano end up scrapped in her notebook.”
you look down at your lego set and continue placing pieces together, all while continuing to ramble on. you try to fight the smile spreading across your face but the intense emotions at the thought of the blonde invade your mind like a thick smoke.
“it’s sometimes sad to hear songs get scrapped because they end up being my favorites.” you admit. “she’s just so talented and i love being able to see her grow as a person.”
a week later
it’s been a week since you gushed about taylor on instagram live. the repercussions ended in the internet going insane over your guy’s relationship and calling you two perfect for each other.
taylor had been acting different lately and the thought of her being upset over the live made you feel worried. what if she completely disliked that?
but as you sit in front of the brick fireplace with two wine glasses in front of you and taylor’s cats curled into the side of your criss-crossed legs — you let all those worries slip away.
taylor sits beside you, her body shifted towards you slightly. her fingers pluck at each string as she adjusts them to perfect tuning. the only light in the room elicits from the crackling fire contained in the fire place.
taylor looks up from her guitar to smile shyly at you, “this is a song i wrote last night, so it’s not perfect but i hope you like it.”
you tilt your head as you pet the cats beside you. taylor looks back down at her guitar and clears her throat, plucking at the soft chords before softly singing. “our coming of age has come and gone. suddenly the summer, it’s clear. i never had the courage of my convictions. as long as danger is near.”
you listen intently with a soft smile, watching her fingers skillfully move across the wood guitar with perfected ease.
“i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm. if your cascade ocean wave blues come. all these people think love’s for show, but i would die for you in secret.” she sings out, looking you right in the eyes for those specific lyrics.
she suddenly stops playing and swallows, looking at you with anticipation. you breath in as you take in the moment, analyzing the lyrics she just sang to you.
“those last lyrics are… something.” you breath out with a small nervous laugh.
taylor lets out a small chuckle and softens her gaze on you, “it’s true though. i’ve thought about my feelings for the past week.” she starts. “about my feelings for you specifically. this whole thing started for the public but getting to know you and experiencing your kindness has made me fall in love.”
your eyebrows raise slightly but you stay silent, letting her continue. “i want to be able to love you behind the cameras and public. and a part of me thinks you want that too.” she finishes.
with a smile gracing your lips you giggle, “taylor i’ve been in love with you since we started this stupid PR relationship.”
taylor lets out a breath of relief and sets the guitar aside. “well, that’s great news. if you rejected me i probably would’ve shit my pants.”
you bark out a laugh and lean forward, your face just inches away from hers. you glance from her pale blue eyes to her soft plump lips that you’ve only had the pleasure of kissing twice in front of paparazzi. “well, are you gonna kiss me for real or should i call some paparazzi to come get content?” you joke.
taylor rolls her eyes, “shut up you dork.”
and with that she kisses you softly but passionately. you hum and you lean in further, resting your hands on her thighs. she grabs onto the back of your head to get better control.
before you can protest she lifts you to straddle her as she lays back against the soft rug. she pulls away from the kiss and looks up at you with complete and utter love in her eyes.
you bite your lip to contain obnoxious giggles and glance over at the curled up cats. you glance back to taylor who looks over feature on your face. “let’s get to bed, tay.”
she nods and lets you drag her to bed where you fall asleep in each others arms for the first time in your 1 year relationship.
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"You're clueless, you know that?" - Reader x Eddie Munson & Reader x Steve Harrington (fake)
Summary: You agree to accompany Steve to Enzo's for Valentine's Day with only one shared goal in mind - to make Eddie so jealous he has no choice but to have the one conversation he's being avoiding.
Pairings: F!Reader x Steve Harrington & F!Reader x Eddie Munson.
Chapter: 1 of 1.
W/C: 2314.
A/N: Happy Valentines Day, besties! This trope paired with Steve and Eddie has had me in a chokehold for a while now and I'm so happy that the lil ADHD gremlin in my brain has finally let me write the damn thing. <3
This one-shot can also be found on AO3 here.
“You really think that’ll work? Pretending to go on a date with you?” you asked, leaning against the counter at Family Video.
“It better work. Personally, I’m sick of hearing you pine over him. He’s had a thing for you ever since you joined Hellfire but he’s completely clueless when it comes to all the hints you’ve dropped,” Robin chimed in without looking up from the ‘returns’ pile of videotapes she was sorting through.
Clueless didn’t even begin to cut it.
You’d known about Eddie’s crush on you for months now, ever since Dustin slipped up and spilled the beans at lunch one day. The poor kid made you swear on your own life that you wouldn’t tell Eddie you knew.
True to your word, you kept the secret and began dropping hints instead. Eddie couldn’t read the room to save his life.
Any time you caught him staring, he’d break eye contact before you could smile back at him. Any time your hands accidentally touched, he’d move his hand away and play it off if you didn’t keep your hand perfectly still.
“I think it’s perfect,” Steve smiled. “There’s nothing like a bit of jealously to make you realise what you want.”
“I dunno,” you mumbled, chewing your cheek while you weighed up your options.
“When he sees you all dolled up, thinking it’s for me, the dots will connect. Trust me.”
“Fine, I’ll find out when he’s working.”
-
Steve’s plan had been in the back of your mind the whole time you’d been sitting around the table with your fellow Hellfire members. It was a long game of highs and lows all night. Despite the distraction, you’d manage to come out of the battle victorious with a mere five health points left. The party, albeit a little bruised and battered, was one step closer to defeating Myrkul and Eddie was in a good mood.
It took the usual fifteen minutes to pack up Eddie’s maps, dice, tokens, and other various game pieces before you climbed into the passenger side of his van. “Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologised.
“You say that every week and yet you never clean it.”
“I do, it just gets messy again,” he smirked.
You were halfway home when you glanced over at Eddie. His hair was frizzy, sticking up in places from all the near misses in battle where he’d had his hands running through it. The rings on his left hand were glowing gently from the reflection of his lit cigarette as he used it to control the steering wheel. His right hand was methodically fiddling with the busted cassette player that he’d been meaning to fix for months. As always when Eddie was concentrating, his tongue was sticking out and resting against his top lip.
“Got it!” he exclaimed as Rainbow in the Dark started blasting from the speaker, a huge grin spread across his face.
“When are you going to buy a new one?” you chuckled, prodding at the battered box.
“Stop touching it,” he slapped your hand away. “It’ll start crackling again. I’ve picked up some overtime next weekend, I’m hoping the gents will be tipping big to impress their dates.”
“No Valentine’s plan with anyone special then?”
“Nope, just work. Doubt there’s anyone out there who would want to spend their Valentine’s Day with the ‘Freak of Hawkins’ anyway.”
“You’d be surprised, some people like their men a little freaky.”
“What about you? Any plans?” he asked, the change in tone rather subtle.
For a moment, you weren’t sure if you were going to go through with the plan. Steve’s words echoed through your mind listed the pros and cons. ‘Trust me.’
“Yeah, I’ve got a date at Enzo's. At least I don’t have to worry about it going bad now if you’re working, you can come over and scare him off for me.”
“That’s great. Wow, a date. Um, yeah, I’ll fend him off for you if things go pear-shaped. Do I, uh, know the guy?” he stuttered.
“I don’t want to jinx it,” you answered, remembering Robin's claims that a little bit of mystery would be the key to the whole plan working.
“Of course,” Eddie agreed, a sarcastically dumb look plastered on his face. You couldn’t help but notice that this was exactly how he used to act when Dustin mentioned Steve. “Would you look at that? Here we are. Once again, dropped off in one piece, as requested.”
“You okay, Ed?” you ask, one eyebrow raised.
“Yep. Fine. Tired,” he mumbled through an unconvincing yawn. “Long game. I’m gonna go and, uh, get some sleep. Night.”
-
“And he said it exactly like that?” Steve asked.
“Yes, Steve, how many times do I have to go through it? He basically kicked me out of the van,” you answered.
“It’s definitely working.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. Wait until he finds out it’s me, he’s gonna freak.”
“He might not react at all. Believe it or not, he is professional at work.”
“Bet on it?”
“Shut up.”
-
Eddie had been an asshole all week.
Jeff and Gareth got the worst of it. You, however, had been getting the silent treatment. It was Thursday lunchtime when Eddie finally acknowledged you again.
“So, what are your plans this weekend?” Dustin asked Mike.
“Movies with El then dinner, you?”
“Arcade with Will. What about you, Eddie?”
“Work and band, why?”
“It’s called small talk,” Dustin answered. “What is with you this week?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” he snapped.
“Tell your face that, man,” added Jeff.
“Lay off it. Why don’t you ask her what she’s doing this weekend instead and leave me alone?” Eddie prompted, gesturing in your direction. He did not stick around to hear the answer, walking away dramatically.
“Well, what are you doing?” asked Dustin.
“I’ve got a date,” you answered quickly and quietly, sinking into your seat as a sense of guilt began to creep up on you.
“You what?!” asked Gareth.
“I said I’ve got a date.”
“Yeah, I heard you. The fuck do you mean you’ve got a date? With who?”
“Does it matter?” you ask asked.
“Evidently it does. I’ve been taking the brunt of his crap all week and you’re telling me it’s because you’re going on a date?”
“How was I supposed to know he’d react like this?” you quickly try to defend yourself.
“Are you blind?” Jeff asks.
“No, but he is. I’ve dropped hints. Lots of them. If he doesn’t want to acknowledge it then that’s on him.”
-
“Wow,” smiled Steve, looking you up and down. He took your hand, albeit rather dramatically, and began leading you to the car.
“Save it for the restaurant, you dingus. Does this look okay then?” you ask.
“The dress alone might kill him, never mind the heels and hair.”
Ten minutes later, Steve parked up outside Enzo's.
“When we get in there, sit with your back to the bar. You’re about to get the full Harrington charm, okay?” he asked.
“Got it.”
“Hi there, table for two under Harrington,” Steve told the hostess.
“Follow me.”
“Here we are,” the hostess said as she gestured to a small table. “Here are your menus, the waiter will be over to take your order shortly.”
“Thank you,” you replied, taking the seat that Steve had pulled out for you.
“So,” you began.
“So,” Steve replied with a grin.
“I’m not going to lie, Steve, I feel really awkward.”
“I can tell,” he responded. “Relax. We’re just two friends, dressed up, and having a nice meal. Loosen up a little and have fun, or this isn’t going to work.”
You tried to relax, really, you did. But you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Eddie was burning holes into the back of your head with his staring.
“Welcome to Enzo's, my name is Ruben and I’ll be your server this evening. Any drinks to start?”
“Sparkling water for me, and…” Steve prompted.
“Lemonade, please.”
“Awesome, I’ll get that put in at the bar for you. Any starters today?”
“Do you-” Steve began, turning his attention back to you.
“More of a dessert person,” you answer.
“Me too,” smiled Ruben. “What mains would you like?”
“Lasagne for me, please,” answered Steve.
“Chicken Alfredo, please.”
“Awesome. I’ll get all that put in for you, enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you, ‘preciate that,” Steve told him before he left the table.
After a couple of minutes of the usual “how was work?” and “how was school?” small talk, Steve’s gaze quickly shot behind you as he sat up a little bit straighter.
“Here’s your lemonade,” Eddie announced, placing the glass down in front of you.
“Thanks, Eddie. How’s your shift?” you asked with a smile.
“So-so. Started going downhill about twenty minutes ago,” he answered.
“Nothing worse than a shitty Friday shift,” Steve chimed in.
“Evening rush,” Eddie responded, unwilling to meet Steve’s gaze. “Everything okay over here?”
“Great, thank you,” you respond.
“Harrington,” Eddie muttered, placing Steve’s water in front of him with a little bit more force than he did the lemonade, before heading back to the bar.
“He won’t even look at me, this is working even better than I thought,” Steve chuckled.
-
One hour and one chicken alfredo later, Ruben returned.
“Well you two are looking cosy over here,” he told you. Steve had been giving you cues on how to sit and when to laugh all evening. “How about that dessert? I highly recommend the ‘brownie and ice cream for two.’ Chef special tonight.”
“Sounds perfect,” answered Steve.
“Alrighty, that’ll be about ten to fifteen minutes. Any more drinks?”
“The same again, please,” you answer.
A couple of minutes later, Steve gave another instruction.
“Rest your left arm on the table.”
“What?”
“Now.”
Steve let out a sudden laugh and adjusted himself in his seat. He placed his arm on the table, his fingertips slightly brushing against your own.
A loud crashing noise from behind you had heads rolling to see what was going on. Every pair of eyes in the restaurant landed on Eddie.
“Sorry folks,” he announced. Eddie quickly began picking up the larger shards of glass whilst another bartender brought over cloths and a broom.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” Steve whispered, loud enough for only you to hear.
-
You really were getting the full Harrington charm, as promised. Steve had been feeding you brownie on and off for ten minutes, his glancing over to Eddie quickly now and again.
“It’s almost time,” Steve whispered.
“Time for what?”
“The grand finale.”
Steve leaned in slightly and wiped the side of your mouth gently with his thumb. “Ice cream,” he smirked.
“Is that really necessary?”
“One hundred percent. On my cue, you’re going to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom,” he began.
“But-”
“If this whole fake date has gone to plan, which by the way has been lovely, then I do believe Munson won’t let you make it that far. Go now.”
As instructed, you excused yourself from the table and made your way towards the bathroom. Just as you got to the door you felt a hand close softly around your wrist.
“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie asked.
“Everything okay?”
“No, actually, it’s not,” he answered. Eddie glanced around before pulling you through a door labelled ‘staff only’.
“Eddie, wha-”
“You can’t date Steve.”
“I can date whoever I like Eddie,” you respond.
“Why him?” he asked, his hand still wrapped lightly around your wrist.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he began, pausing in thought. “Because he’s… he’s got a reputation. Surely you’ve heard all the rumours?”
“And we both know him well enough to know he’s not that person anymore,” you answer, your gaze locking with Eddie’s who, surprisingly, held it.
“You just can’t, please,” he pleaded.
“Give me a good enough reason as to why I shouldn’t go back out there and I won’t.”
Eddie stayed silent for a few moments, his big, brown eyes locked on yours. The small staff room became stuffy all of a sudden, the air so thick it felt like you could barely breathe. You held your ground, waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t. You stared back at Eddie, your eyes pleading with him to just say something. Anything.
You broke your gaze from Eddie’s and turned towards the door, ready to give up and go home. Eddie’s grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled you back towards him, using his free hand to cup your face as his lips met yours.
You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, Eddie kissing you, but it felt like forever. The tension in the air vanished, leaving you with a cozy feeling deep in your stomach, where the butterflies used to live.
“You can do better than him. You deserve better than him. You deserve someone who knows that you take extra sugar in your coffee when you’re studying. Someone who knows that you’re a completely evil genius in the best way possible when it comes to D&D. Someone who knows you’d rather be in bed with a book at-” he glanced at his watch, “nine o’clock at night. Someone who apparently isn’t very good at making the first move.”
“You’re clueless, you know that?”
“I am?”
“Yeah,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him again.
If it wasn’t for Ruben who knows how long you would have stood there, entwined together, lost in the moment.
“Hey man, you heading home?” Eddie asked casually, placing a little distance between the two of you.
“I was, but turns out I’m staying late. Guy with the hair on table twelve tipped me a hundred bucks to finish your bar shift and fetch a fresh brownie out. Said you ‘owe him one’ and you can ‘square it up later’. Brownie will be out in five. Enjoy.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#fluff#fake date#fake dating#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie x you#steve harrington x reader#steve x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#eddies a big baby#smart steve#platonic steve harrington
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ACTION!
author's note. first fic of the event!!! thank u so so much @slytherinshua for making this cute banner<3
genre. crack, fluff, coffee shop au, non-idol
word count. 1048
summary. movie major!vernon decides to confess to you, lead by an impulse (and a rush of caffeine)
as creepy as it sounds, vernon has been watching you. not in a stalker way, of course, but it just so happened that you both liked the same cafe.
and you shared the same classes, like literature. and you both attended the movie club. and! he sometimes saw you on the gym when he went to accompany work out with mingyu.
he realised this a while ago – he has a serious crush on you.
he adored the way you always painted your nails with a glittery nail polish, the way your h/c hair fell on your arms perfectly. you also had amazing taste – not only he loved your fashion style but also during the club discussion about movies, he realised you both share the same taste in movies. and tropes… and favorite directors.
or when, like right now, you chewed on a straw while your gaze was stuck in your laptop. the almost coal-black coffee looked sweet as hell when you drank it.
letting out a deep sigh you put the plastic cup away and rested your chin on your hand, looking out of the window to observe passers-by. the pleasant chatter of the people inside the cafe made it really easy to space out.
vernon failed to notice that he let his hand lie on the keyboard, his essay turning into a bunch of incoherent letters.
suddenly, the door opened and a gust of cold wind sneaked inside causing you to turn around.
oh shh– you looked his way, don’t look–!
maybe it’s the day he should confess? you live once, no? he already asked his friends for a piece of advice – chan said to leave it, jeonghan insisted to go for it.
vernon sighed, grabbing his stuff and packing his belongings. careful enough not to nudge the empty glass after his cappuccino and plate with the rest of a lemon tart, he put his precious laptop covered in stickers into his bag. drumming his fingers in thought against it for a moment, he precisely weighed his options.
whatever, he’ll try. the worst you can say is no. besides, he once described emma watson as “a bit foreign, eyes beige and hair darkish-blondish”… so, props to teenager vernon for being so creative but he won’t be so corny now. hopefully.
maybe… i think i’m in love with you and you just gotta let my love adorn you. no, too poetic. and he’ll sound like a weirdo. no, no.
vernon ordered an americano (extra shot, extra ice, make it nice) and grabbed it, taking a deep breath. casually walking up to you, he cleared his throat.
“can i?”
your eyes tore away from the window and a cute smile appeared on your lips, brightening your face.
“sure, vernon. sit down, i wasn’t being productive anyways” you nodded and moved your laptop to make some place.
“y-you know my name?” he stuttered before plopping down. here goes his coolness…
“yeah, seungkwan introduced us. and we share classes together” you nodded, observing how the gears visibly turned in his head.
“would you like to be a part of my movie?” vernon suddenly blurted out and he felt as if the whole cafe turned quiet. no chatter, no rumble of coffee machines working and glasses clinking. just you, him and silence.
the tips of his ears reddened but his features remained calm.
“what? dude, i know you’re a cinematography major but i’m no professional” you scoffed and started chewing on your straw again.
“no, like… that was stupid. wh… you know what i major in?” vernon was, yet again, taken aback. you nodded, taking a sip of the black liquid. the ice cubes in your cup bounced off the plastic walls when you stirred it.
“vernon, you’re a friend of a friend. if course i know. you know my major too, so…” you let out an amused laugh and it was the most angelic sound he’s ever heard “but is the movie like a project?”
“no… just… y’know how everyone crushes emrata, emma watson or like, emma stone?” he named all the emmas he could, seeing that clearly you were confused by his words “and you… you’re just like everyone’s favorite movie”
“what the emmas have to do with that though?” you blinked, apparently ignoring his previous sentence.
vernon let out a shaky breath and looked around the room. couples, students, businesses men in a hurry. everyone surrounded by the smell of freshly grounded coffee beans in the air.
“that you’re way prettier than all of them combined. and i used to have… no, let’s not go there. i keep making weird parallels to movies but what i wanted to say is that i have a huge crush on you” the boy said, fiddling with his thumbs and missing the way the straw fell out of your mouth. his eyes kept scanning the people in the cafe, afraid to meet your gaze “if you don’t know, let me explain girl. hmm, so what i mean is that saying you’re perfect is not enough…”
you scoffed at his adorable awkwardness. his iced americano began to drip on the table long ago, a small puddle of water forming around it.
“vernon”
“even if it doesn’t work, it’s okay…” he shrugged, looking like he was talking to himself at this point rather than to you.
“vernon…”
“we’ll probably fight from time to time but we’ll overcome it like it’s nothing–”
“chwe hansol!”
his gaze snapped up, eyes widening.
“not the government name?! sorry. what were you saying?” vernon rose his eyebrows and then blinked slowly. oh he’s such an idiot.
“you’re so cute” you snickered and leaned forward, resting your chin on your interlocked hands “sure, let’s give it a go. action! as they say on movie sets, no?”
“wha… are you serious?” vernon couldn’t believe this. it all happened so quickly and very impulsively… and… it happened for real.
“one hundred percent serious, you movie nerd. i thought you were cute ever since i joined that movie club… so why not?” you nodded gently and saw a white smile bloom on his lips.
“i… i kinda can’t believe it. but so… y/n, may we go on a first date then? movies?” he asked excitedly, whipping out his student id “i have discounts!”
main masterlist | event masterlist
taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu
#svt#vernon#vernon fluff#vernon x reader#svt x reader#vernon fic#vernon fanfic#svt fanfic#seventeen fanfic#svt fic#seventeen x reader#svt imagines#hansol vernon chwe#hansol fluff#svt fluff#svt crack#svt scenarios#svt x you#svt x y/n#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#vernon crack#vernon imagines#vernon chwe
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Hi!! This is my first fic that I’m posting. I wrote it loosely based on this love by taylor. I write for my own enjoyment usually but this is my first time sharing my work!! I hope you enjoy it <3
word count: 7.5k (got carried away lol)
tw: smut MDNI!!, hints at dom harry, fluff, angst, drinking, kind of feelings of regret, mentions of a cheating partner.…i think that’s it but lemme know if i missed any :’)
This Love Left A Permanent Mark
This was a terrible idea.
My inner monologue has been repeating the phrase through my head like a mantra from the moment I walked through the glass doors of the club.
In hindsight, I don’t know why I didn’t think this sooner. Why did I think coming to my ex-boyfriend's album release party was a good idea? In what world would that ever be a good idea? Especially the way we ended things. I mentally note to never let Ginny talk me into something like this ever again, even if she is dating a member of his team. I recall the conversation we had about it a mere four days before this moment.
“It’ll be fun! And he’ll be busy talking to people all night anyway. He won’t even know you’re there, probably.” she insisted
“I don’t know, Gin. I really don’t want to crash his night.” I mumble, twiddling with the menu on the table in front of me.
“You need to get out of the house. All you do is sit and read your books and play your guitar. It makes me sad and depressed.” her nose crinkles in displeasure.
“What’s wrong with that?” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing, I guess.” She shrugs. “I just think you deserve to have a good night. I won’t tell Joe you’re coming so he doesn’t mention it to Harry. You can just hang around and mingle and drink and dance with me.” She reaches over the table and takes my hand in hers. “Please. We haven’t had a night out in so long.” she gives me a pouty lip and I roll my eyes.
“We could go out any other night.” I point out and she sighs loudly.
“True…but this would be perfect. You don’t have to pay for any drinks or deal with sleazy guys at the bar. Just industry people doing industry people things and listening to the album at a big party.”
I contemplate her request. What’s there to lose? I weigh the options in my head for a moment. If I don’t go, she’s right, and I’ll just sit in my room all night flipping through the same romcoms and sitcoms that I’ve already watched 3 times over. I’ve been doing fine for a few months now. I’ve been going on dates again, and meeting new guys. On the other hand, no one will ever be him and I have no idea how I’ll react if I do end up seeing him…or if he sees me. But, there will be so many people there, he’ll be mingling, and he probably won’t see me, right?
“Fine. But if he sees me, I’m bolting. .” I mutter and she squeals in excitement.
Now here I am, sitting at the bar alone in the same spot for the past 45 minutes. Ginny is nowhere to be found, and I’m in an uncomfortable dress that’s too short for my typical comfort zone and the sequins are making me itchy. I twirl the straw around in my drink and sigh, holding my head in my hand.
On the plus side, I’ve avoided him for most of the night. The first time I spotted him was when he was walking into the club, making his grand entrance. I was hiding behind Ginny and he didn’t see me. But when I saw him my heart skipped. He’s wearing a cream colored suit, that looks almost a baby pink color if it’s in the right light, with a white tank top underneath that shows off his toned chest along with the two swallows tattooed on his tanned skin, and his cross necklace hanging from his neck. He’s got a pair of glasses with orange colored lenses perched on his head also. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was on his arm right now.
This was a terrible idea.
It’s been over a year since I saw him last. I don’t even know what he’s writing about in his music because I avoid every single thing about him. Arguably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do because he’s everywhere right now. If I see his name in the news, I don’t read the article. If he’s on the TV, I change the channel. I scroll past anything I see that his name associated with it. I learned my lesson the hard way in the beginning. I purposely searched his name in the weeks following our tumultuous end, and saw so many pictures of him with other women…and every time I saw him with them, the picture of him that I saw that night comes to my brain. So I stopped putting myself through that misery.
I hear a loud noise like someone patting a microphone. I turn my head to see Harry standing at the front of the room on a small stage. He’s looking out to the crowd of people who are now mostly turned to face him. He looks my way for a moment, and I feel my breath catching in my throat, but then he skips over me and continues skimming the crowd, and I let go of the breath I was holding.
“Hello, I’m Harry.” His deep voice sounds so smooth in the microphone and my stomach churns. It’s been so long since I’ve heard his voice.
“We know!” Someone yells back to him and the room erupts in laughter, making Harry chuckle into the microphone. So many thoughts are going through my head while I stare across the room at him, like the last time I heard him laugh like that. I turn back to face my drink so I don’t have to look at him. How good he looks.
“I just wanted to say thank you all for coming. It really means the world to me that I get to celebrate the release of my third album with all of you. I wouldn’t be here, in this moment, if it weren’t for every single one of you. All of you have played such an important role in making me the artist that I am. So thank you.” I sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye. He brings his hand up to place over his heart in an endearing gesture. “Now, let’s get this show on the road and listen to it, shall we?” He says cheekily and the crowd sounds off with applause and cheers. The speakers in the room begin to play the tune of the first song and he walks off the stage making his way around the crowd of people, stopping to shake hands and chat with some of them.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch in surprise, only to whip my head around and see Ginny hopping up into the seat next to me. I shoot her a look that shows I’m not happy with her and she tilts her head. The song changes and the next song is just as upbeat as the first.
“What? What’s wrong?” She questions and I roll my eyes.
“I’ve been sitting here alone for 45 minutes. You left me. You said you wouldn’t.” I pout, looking back down at my half-empty drink.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Joe wanted to introduce me to some people and then I lost track of time. I won’t leave again. I’m yours for the night. Promise.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into her and I smirk. She orders a drink and I turn to face the crowd again. I don’t see Harry anywhere, and I feel the tension I was holding in my shoulders release a fraction.
We sit for a while, drinking and chatting amongst ourselves and other people who come to the bar while they’re waiting for their drinks to be made. They mostly talk to Ginny and ask how things with Joe are going, while I just listen and add little bits to the conversation here and there. I’m turned to face her at the same moment the 5th song ends and turns to a slower one, not as upbeat as the others. And they’re all so good. His talent really shining through in all of these words he’s written.
The chatter dies down a little, everyone taking in the beginning of the song before it picks back up again. Some people are swaying to the music and others are standing in groups. While looking through the crowd I spot some of Harry’s famous friends and when one of them makes eye contact and waves at me, I wave back. I feel a little stab in my chest, thinking back to a time Harry and I would be over there talking to them together. We would talk about how their projects are going and their plans for the future. Harry would always have his arm draped over my shoulder, pulling me closer to his side and kissing the top of my head. I sigh and continue to look around the room, looking for anyone else I might know, but then I spot him.
He’s sitting in a large curved booth with three others. He’s leaned over listening to one of them speak. I watch as his jaw clenches, and a small piece of hair falls down over his forehead. His eyes crinkle the way I always remember when he smiles and I can feel my breath leave my chest, just looking at him like this stole it away. His hand comes up to push his hair back off of his forehead while he nods and I catch the rings adorned on all of his fingers. One of them in particular catches my eye though.
The lion ring.
I gave him the ring as a gift for our anniversary a few years ago. He used to wear it every time he performed, but I didn’t realize he still wore it. You would if you’d ever pay attention to him, my conscience informs me and I swallow the thick lump in my throat. Ginny taps me on the shoulder once, pausing before tapping again, I turn my head towards her, but my gaze was still on the ring on his finger. My eyes work my way back up to his face before I tear them away, admiring his features for another moment. His beautiful green eyes…but when I turn to look at Ginny, I have to do a double take back to him.
Wait.
His eyes?
After a single second my brain catches up and registers that he’s looking at me. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, his brow furrowed and shaking his head. I see the confusion laced through his expression, and I’m cursing myself, but I can’t look away.
“Fuck.” I manage to squeak out, and Ginny follows my gaze over to Harry.
“Oh shit. Laine, don’t—” she starts to say something but stops when he’s holding up his hand to whoever is speaking to him, signaling for them to give him a moment, and his eyes never leave mine.
“Laine?” I saw him mouth my name. A sight I’ve memorized ten times over. My breathing, my heart, and my mind all stop. Everything stops. It felt like the entire world stopped turning.
Within two seconds he’s standing, pushing his way through groups of people towards me. As he stands, I’m running for the door. I don’t look back. I just keep moving forward through the groups of people, pushing myself through…in the same sense that I have been for 19 months now. Running away and never looking back.
“Run away like you have from everything else.” The words that have infiltrated every single thought in my head for the past 19 months.
This was a terrible idea.
I’m pushing to the door, the air suddenly thick with dread that clouds my mind. I can’t breathe and it’s suddenly so hot. The room around me blurs and I can’t see where I am because there are tears clouding my vision. I’m blinking fast to clear them and all I hear are the last words he ever said to me, and then I feel the familiarity of his touch, and the flashback of the fight comes so quickly that it hits me like a freight train. Coming to the forefront so easily after I’ve tried so hard to just forget.
“Laine! Stop. Please, you don’t have to do this.” His voice drops an octave on the last few words, desperate for me to stay, and I knew I couldn’t.
“No, H. I can’t. This isn’t working. I can’t keep sitting here waiting for you to care about this, about us, when you’re photographed necking a girl at a bar. I sit here looking like a damn fool, waiting for you to love me.” My voice trembles and I shove him away from me.
“It wasn’t even what it looked like! You’re being irrational.” He throws his hands up in the air.
“Me? Irrational? Don’t. We’re falling apart. You’ve been growing so distant. Every time you go out you’re photographed with some other girl…and this time you’re all over her? I know we haven’t been the best lately but this is too much. You’ve gone too far.” I argue back, throwing things into a bag.
“You should know the paps twist everything. Please let me explain!” He’s practically yelling now, and I turn back to face him, rage clouding my mind.
“You cannot explain away this one Harry. All I wanted was for you to look at me the way you look at them. You used to. I used to be the only one you looked at.” My voice trembles, the tears threatening to spill. “It’s time to stop lying to ourselves, this was over a long time ago.” I snap at him with a shake of my head. He looks at me, defeated.
“Fine, Laine. Just go. Run away from this like you have everything else in your life. You’re so predictable.” He shoots back and I visibly flinch, I never thought he would use my past against me.
“You don’t get to say those things to me after doing this. This is your fault. I’m done. It’s over. Go call your new girl, I’m sure she’s waiting for you.” I grit through my teeth. I don’t let him say anything else before I walk out the door, leaving the only place I've ever called home behind.
“Let go of me!” I yell, trying to catch my breath and gasping for air. Trying to push and pull my way out of the grip on my arm. I know it’s him. I’d know the feeling of his hands anywhere. My eyes are squeezed shut.
“Hey! Laine, calm down. Look at me.” He shakes me slightly trying to get me to come back down to earth. I feel his hands let go of my arms and he grabs my face. “Please. Look at me.” I shake my head.
“I can’t. Because if I open my eyes and you’re really standing there and it’s not a dream, I will pass out.” I say quickly, so quickly that my words run together and I’m not sure he even understood what I said. But what am I so afraid of? It’s just Harry. But then again, my mind is replaying his words from that night over and over again. Run away like you have from everything else.
“If you do, I’m right here. I’ll catch you.” His voice is deep and he speaks slowly. His hands are still holding my face. I don’t respond, my lips pressed together in a thin line. My heart is beating out of my chest.
“What are you doing here Laine?” He asks, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
“I-,” I stop myself, realizing I have no good explanation, to collect my thoughts. I realize that my eyes are still tightly closed, and I probably look ridiculous. But now that he’s here and the entire world hasn’t imploded yet, I’m beginning to come back down to earth. I realize I don’t hear the music, I don’t hear anyone else talking, and my back is against a cool concrete wall. I open my eyes slowly, and I’m outside, and he’s there. Right there in front of me, not a dream, not a figment of my imagination. His eyes are so green, his jaw is sharp with little bits of stubble beginning to grow. His lips are full and pink, and they look so, so kissable. His hair is perfectly wavy sitting on top of his head, and he’s just close. Closer than he’s been in so many months. I turn my head, looking away from him and down the alley. I take a shaky breath.
“Ginny invited me. I don’t think she told Joe I was coming. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I-I didn’t think…” My gaze travels back to his, and he’s smirking.
“Didn’t think what? That you’d run into me at my own album party?” He asks.
“In hindsight it was not the smartest decision.” I mutter and look down at the ground. I can’t look at him. If I look at him again I’ll want to kiss him and I can’t do that, not anymore. “I think I’m just gonna go home.” I add and look back up at him through my lashes.
“Don’t. Stay. I’m sorry that I scared you. I just haven’t seen you in so long, it caught me off guard. I didn’t know if it was really you sitting there or if my mind was playing tricks on me again.” He rubs his hands down my arms, stopping at my wrists and going back up again, keeping me warm in the cool night air.
“Again?” My brow furrows.
“Yeah. Again. See you everywhere I turn, have since…” He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. “Please, come back in…I’m sorry that I startled you.”
“I need to anyway. I ran out and left all of my stuff with Ginny.” I wrap my arms around my torso to try and shield myself from the cold. He moves out of my way and stands beside me. We walk back inside in awkward silence, and this feels like some terrible kind of walk of shame. He holds the door for me and I mumble a thank you. Someone catches his attention when we walk into the main area so he stops to talk to them and I take that as my cue to walk away before it’s even more awkward. I make my way back over to the bar and Ginny is still in her seat. Her eyes widen at me as she sips through her straw.
“Oh my god. Are you okay? I didn’t know what to do. I saw him coming this and then you were running and then he ran after you and I just froze. I’m sorry. Should I have come to save you?” she rambles on and I shake my head.
“It’s fine. I think I just overreacted. I haven’t seen him in so long and when I saw him coming towards me I panicked. Nothing bad happened.” I sigh and run my hands over my face. My mind wanders, thinking about what he said. He said he sees me everywhere, and he has since the night I left. I didn’t think he even wanted anything else to do with me. Thinking about what he said pulls at my heartstrings and I’m confused…I decide I don’t want to feel this way.
I order a drink from the bartender.
Then another.
Then another.
And before I know it, another hour has gone by, and I’m drunk and on the dance floor laughing with Ginny. I have a drink in one hand and the other above my head, holding onto Ginny’s and swaying our hips together. I’ve not felt this way in a long time. I feel on top of the world, like I’m floating. She leans into me and whispers something in my ear but I don’t quite catch it. I turn towards her with a confused look on my face.
She gestures her head across the room and my gaze travels that direction. I look to find Harry, sitting in the same booth as before. He’s leaned back with one leg crossed so his ankle is resting on his knee. He’s got a drink in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth with a smirk on his face. Smirking at me.
“He’s been watching you for, like, the past 10 minutes. I know because I counted.” Ginny slurs in my ear and I look at her with an eyebrow raised.
“You counted?” I repeated back, skeptical. I don’t think I could even count to 20 right now.
“Um, yeah. It was for like two and a half songs that’s pretty much the same as 10 minutes right?” Her words run together and I turn my head to look at him again over my shoulder. A woman is sitting next to him, trying to get his attention and he’s nodding to whatever she’s saying, but his eyes are still on me.
I don’t really think my brain can comprehend why he’s staring at me in this moment. So I keep dancing with Ginny, and then eventually with other people too. I end up dancing with one of his friends that came up to talk to me, his arm around my shoulder and jumping around, singing the words to a popular song we’ve all heard repeatedly on the radio. I don’t remember when it happened because all my thoughts are running together and Ginny just keeps handing me drinks, and I’m so grateful for that. Grateful that he doesn’t come over to me. But why was he grinning at me like that?
Another hour goes by, I’m standing at a table talking to someone I’ve never met before, but Ginny knows them. Another one of Joe’s clients he manages, I think. I don’t really remember. I’m sipping my drink through a straw, slightly swaying to the music and listening to one of the women at the table speak when I feel hands on my waist, pulling me away from the table. I stumble backwards, feeling my back collide with a strong chest. I turn my head to see that Harry is the one pulling me away. His eyes are dilated and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He grabs my hand, pulling me into the shadows of the club where no one can see us. He leans down and I can feel his breath on my ear.
“You look so tempting. It’s not fair.” He cups his hand around my cheek, running his fingers down my jaw line then holding my chin between his thumb and finger. He tilts my head up so my eyes meet his. He reaches up, running his thumb over my mouth, pulling my lip as he drags it down. He breathes a heavy sigh through his nose. Bravely, and not in the right state of mind, I gently bite his thumb between my teeth, closing my lips around it and sucking lightly. He chuckles and shakes his head. He just looks so good.
“You’re killing me.” He groans and drops his forehead to meet mine. “All I want right now is you and I can’t have you.”
“Who says you can’t?” I whisper back to him, looking up at him through my lashes, and our faces are so close. So close all I can see are his eyes. He grins and leans in, leaving a small kiss on my neck under my ear, and I feel tingling where his lips touch. I can smell his cologne. I would recognize it anywhere. He grabs my hand and leads me through the crowds of people towards the back door.
“My place or yours?” He asks, his eyes peeking at me over his shoulder.
“Yours.” I answer back without hesitation.
He opens the door and I feel the cold air biting my skin, instantly making my body shiver. We’re walking fast towards his car, his hand still wrapped around mine and pulling me along behind him. He walks me around to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for me. I slide into the seat and my teeth are chattering, when he comes to the drivers side he takes his jacket off and hands it to me over the center console.
We drive to his apartment in silence, his jacket shrugged over my shoulders. The air is filled with tension, both sexual and nervous. I don’t want to speak because I don’t know what to say. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, making my heart flutter in my chest. Like he always used to. I don’t pull away. I let him hold my hand against his mouth.
We make our way up to his apartment with haste. The elevator stops and opens to his penthouse, and once we’re inside he’s pushing me against the wall, not wasting a single second, and his lips finding mine. He grabs my hips so hard that I’m sure there will be bruises. When my mouth opens he’s slipping his tongue inside and I feel my knees weaken. He kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to.
He’s grabbing my thighs and lifting me up, all without breaking the kiss and instinctively my legs wrap around his waist. My hands work their way into his hair and pull slightly, making him groan into my mouth. He carries me into his room, the room we used to share, and lays me down ever so gently. He’s hovering over me, his knee between my thighs and putting pressure on my center. His kiss and his touch feel so familiar that it hurts, and I can feel it in my bones. Something I’ve longed for since the very last time. I feel my muscles melting into the bed with the weight of him on my chest. I moan into the kiss and he pulls away slightly.
“Been thinking about this for so fucking long, Laine. Think about you every day.” He whispers, touching his forehead to mine. My brain feels fuzzy and somewhere in my mind my conscience is telling me not to sleep with him, that I’ll regret it, but I push the thought out of my mind and focus on him hovering over me, paying attention to me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted him to do. The only thing I’ve craved for the past 19 months.
“Just kiss me.” I say breathlessly, and he does. His hand travels to the nape of my neck and grips tightly, holding my face to his. His lips are as soft as I remember. My veins are buzzing with a mixture of pleasure and alcohol, and I feel the heat grow through my entire body. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m grinding my hips against his thigh that's still between my legs and I whimper into his mouth at the friction it gives and he pulls his lips away just far enough to speak.
“Needy girl.” He purrs and I nod, lolling my head to the side while still moving my hips against his thigh. “Look at you. Need me this badly? No one else than take care of you like me, can they?” He pushes his leg against me harder and I gasp. “Answer me.” He grits through his teeth.
“No.” I choke out, “Nobody but you.” I whine, telling him what he wants to hear. And it’s the truth. Nobody could ever make me feel the way he does.
His hands travel down my body and push my dress over my hips, exposing me to him. He pulls away and looks down at the lacy piece of white fabric settled on my body, biting his lip and running his finger across the waistband, his light touches making me shiver.
“Is this okay?” He murmurs and I nod.
In one swift motion he hooks his finger in the fabric and pulls them down my legs, kneeling in front of my knees. He hooks his arms under my legs and palms the top of my thighs. I close my eyes and feel his breath trailing over my thighs and ghosting over the spot where I needed him the most. He peppers small kisses on my inner thighs, teasing me. I reach my hand down and tangle my fingers in his hair.
“You’re dripping.” He grins and looks up at me through his lashes. “All for me?” His warm breath on my wet center sends chills up my spine.
“No one else. Please, Har. Need you.” I say breathlessly, and I feel him smirk against my skin, grabbing my legs and opening them so far I feel the stretch in my muscles.
“How much?” He mutters, his voice low and gravelly.
“Please. So much. Need you so much.” I whine and gasp when I feel his tongue begin to lap at my clit, barely letting me finish my sentence. My back arches off the bed and he uses his hands to grab my hips and force me back down. He groans against me and the vibrations travel through my body, making me writhe against the bed. My hand still in his hair tugs at the root slightly, making his eyes flutter closed. My other hand grips the bed sheets so tightly I can feel my nails digging into my palm through the fabric. He trails his tongue down to my leaking hole and thrusts it inside while his nose creates friction at my bundle of nerves.
“Fuck, Harry. So good. Feels so good.” I manage to gasp out between moans in broken phrases. He lifts his head and his chin is glistening with my arousal and he smirks. Going back in fervently he brings me closer and closer to the edge. I feel the coil tighten in my belly and he doesn’t stop.
“I’m so close.” I whisper between gasps and he moans against me again, and the vibration it provides is enough to send me over the edge. The coil snaps and my vision goes white, and I’m moaning his name over and over while he continues to move his tongue against me and working me through my high. I try to push him away from my body on his shoulders but he’s stronger than I am, and the overstimulation brings tears to my eyes and he stares back at me devilishly as he thrusts his tongue into me and my hips buck.
“Please.” I whisper breathlessly. “Hurts, Har.” I gasp as he licks against my now sensitive clit. Finally, he pulls his mouth away from me and stands between my legs at the edge of the bed. My eyes, barely open, travel down his body and stop at the outline of his hard cock in his pants. I sit up and hurriedly work on undoing his belt, not saying a word. I look up at him through my lashes and he’s watching me intently. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and squeezes, letting me know what he wants. Once his belt is undone I push his pants and underwear down and his cock springs free and hits his abdomen. My mouth waters at the sight, a sight I’ve been dreaming of for months.
I lean forward, wasting no time and lick up his length and he tips his head back with a low groan. I wrap my lips around his leaking tip and suck lightly, then spitting. I pull him into my mouth until he touches the back of my throat and I swallow around him, causing him to curse and tangle his fingers in my hair. He holds my head there for a moment and then let’s go, and I’m coming back up for air before going right back in. I flatten my tongue around him and the tip hits the back of my throat again, my nose meeting the skin of his waist.
“Fuck.” He hisses between his teeth. “If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last.” He moans with his head thrown back, looking at the ceiling. I pull back and take a breath through my nose before repeating the motions over and over, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of my throat until I gag and that’s when something snaps in him. He grabs my hair and twists it in around his fist, moving his hips so he’s fucking my mouth. I moan, causing a vibration to travel from my throat through his cock and then he’s pulling me off, a string of saliva falling out of my mouth. He grabs both sides of my face, pulling me to stand and kissing me with so much force it almost knocks me over completely. “Don’t wanna finish yet. Not done with you.” He mumbles against my lips before pressing them against mine again.
He pushes me down onto the bed and climbs over me. He wastes no time settling himself between my legs. He pulls my dress off over my head and throws it somewhere in the room. He brings his hands up to cup my breasts, and then he tweaks both of my nipples between his fingers, making my mouth drop open in a small, quiet moan escaping. Then, he’s dragging his cock through my folds and pushing into me slowly. I gasp as my back arches off the bed and he grabs my hips to hold me down. I almost forgot how much I missed this. His hips meet mine and his eyes flutter shut and he groans. I writhe under him, needing more and a whine escapes my throat.
“Please H, need you. Please, please.” I whisper. He leans down, bringing his lips to mine and kisses me slowly, his tongue dancing with mine. I moan into his mouth and he grins as he pulls away from me, resting his forehead on mine.
“No. Wanna go slow, missed this so much. Wanna feel every inch of you.” He mutters, rubbing his nose against mine. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out. He trails little kisses down my skin, finally moving his hips slowly. I feel every drag of his thick cock against my walls and the sounds that leave my mouth are almost pornographic.
Savoring the moment doesn’t last long. He picks up his pace, his fingers gripping and digging into my hips so hard I’m sure there will be bruises left in their place. Quickly he pulls out of me and flips me over onto my belly. With his hands still on my hips he brings me up to my knees and pushes back into me, quickly pounding into me without remorse making me cry out.
“Oh god, Harry.” I whine and he tangles a hand in my hair, and yanking so my head lifts from the bed.
“Take me so well, baby. The only one who’s ever taken me so well.” He grits through his teeth, the sound of his hips snapping against my ass echoing through the room along with his demanding tone and me moaning his name over and over. I feel the familiar warmth traveling through my belly as he continues hitting the right spot deep inside me.
“I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.” I beg and his movements become sloppy. The familiarity of this scene gives me deja vu, back to a time when things were simple and all that mattered to us was each other. My brain is fuzzy, and I’m remembering the way he says my name through his gritted teeth and just thinking about it makes me feel euphoric.
“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Go ahead, cum all over my cock.” He demands. “Shit, Laine.” He growls through his teeth, as if he read my mind and saw my memories and knowing how my name dripping from his tongue gives me exactly what I need to send me over the edge.
“Oh, I’m cumming. Fuck, H.” I gasp, and the warmth blossoms at my center and I’m a moaning, whining mess, my walls fluttering around his cock. He groans and stills, and I feel his warmth inside of me, spurting into me and painting my walls with his cum. His hips stutter before pulling out of me and he sighs heavily as he topples onto the bed beside me.
I roll onto my back, my head lolling to the side and looking at Harry through hooded eyes. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily through his nose, both of us coming down from our highs. And he’s perfect. In every way I remember. My eyes trail down his face to his tattooed chest, the butterfly rising and falling with each breath he’s chasing. The muscles in his arms that flex and relax when he runs his hand down his face…and he’s just so perfect…and I missed him, more than anything…and I still love him, more than anything.
Somewhere in the midst of this, the cloud that hangs over my sense of judgment begins to dissipate and I feel my heart sink to my stomach. Why was I here? The first time I’ve seen him in almost two years and we fucked like it was just a hookup? I was doing so well trying to forget everything about him. But this…this puts me right back at square one.
“I-um…I need…” I stutter, trailing off and scrambling out of his bed. I look around and try to find my underwear and my dress strewn across the room, but it’s dark and I can’t really see well.
“What are you doing?” He sits up, propping on his elbows and watching me with a raised brow.
“I need to go.” I say quietly, bending over and pickup up my underwear, then walking to the other side of the room and looking for my dress.
“Why? You can stay here. This was your place once upon a time, too.” He stands up and pulls his pants back on, walking over to me. I’m frantically looking for my clothes, my heart feeling like it’s beating out of my chest. When I still can’t find it, my breathing picks up rapidly and I’m standing there with my hands in my hair, completely nude, about to have a panic attack.
This is so pathetic.
“Hey, Laine. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.” Harry says quietly, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. I drop my chin to my chest and I bring my hand up to cover my eyes.
“We shouldn’t have done this.” I mutter between my palms, desperately trying to calm my brain.
You’re irrational. Run away from this like you have everything else. You’re so predictable.
“Why?” He asks like he doesn’t know. Like he forgot. I’m clenching my teeth, wincing because I’m already trying to push it out of my head. “Don’t leave. I want you to stay.” He says softly, his hand trailing down to my waist.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I ask, nervously. He looks at me with a look of confusion, but doesn’t respond.
“Do you know where my dress is?” I ask, throwing up hands up in the air, gesturing around the room. I slip my underwear back on so I feel at least a little bit covered and he walks into his closet. He comes out with just one of his t-shirts and hands it to me. I slip it over my head. “Thanks but I can’t go home without pants on.” I mutter.
“Can we just talk?” He snaps at me, and I look at him and blink, not registering that he was growing impatient with me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did.”
“What is there to talk about, H?” I ask with a small sarcastic laugh. The nickname I always used for him slipping out like it’s an old habit recently rediscovered. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall.
“Us. Please.” He begs and I sigh.
“There is no us. There hasn’t been for a long time.” I shoot back at him.
“Can I just say what I want to say and then you can decide what you want to do. Please just hear me out.” He asks and I hesitate for a second before agreeing. I’m not sure what he’s going to say, and I’m also not sure how I’m going to react. If I leave now, then what he said to me last time would be true. I’d just be running away like I always do. I give him a nod, letting him know that I’ll listen to whatever he has to say, and he steps closer to me.
He grabs my hand and leads me out of the bedroom and to the living room. He sits on one end of the couch and I sit on the other end facing him, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my chin on top of them, chewing on the inside of my lips nervously. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair.
“So…how have you been?” He asks, scratching his head and I furrow my eyebrows together.
“Really? Small talk?” I ask and he scoffs, shaking his head and looking away from me, averting his gaze to look out the large glass windows in front of us that overlook the city. This was always my favorite room. He stands and walks over to them, leaning his shoulder against them.
“I don’t know what to say. I thought I had it all planned out…what I was going to say if I ever got the chance…and now, I just…” he trails off, shaking his head again and sighing. “I never stopped loving you, Laine. Not even when I was being a fuck up, I think I just forgot…and then I got blindsided by the attention I was getting and I screwed up. But that was never an excuse to treat you the way that I did. I never apologized, and I sincerely am so sorry.” He says, glancing over at me. “If you don’t believe me, I understand. I just wanted you to know that I still love you. I think about you every single day.”
“I wanted to know that you loved me back then, too.” I whisper, hurt lacing my tone. “That’s all I ever wanted.” I close my eyes and try to control my breathing before I let my emotions talk for me. “I gave you everything, every piece of me, waiting for you to love me. I don’t have anything left to give. I’ve been trying not to think about the last words you ever said to me every single day for the past 19 months. It keeps me up every night and eats away at my thoughts, knowing that that was the way you thought of me at the end of our relationship, and using things I told you in confidence against me. When it was never me fucking anything up, it was you…and that hurt me. You said I was irrational for wanting to leave after I saw you with another girl pushed up against a wall, kissing all over her neck.” I stated, bringing back the memory of the night I left. He winces.
“I know, Laine. Fuck, I am so sorry. I would do anything to prove to you that I’m just so fucking sorry.” He strides over to where I sit on the couch and drops to his knees in front of me, pulling my hands into his. “At first, I tried to forget you. I couldn’t. You were in my dreams every single night. When I was with anyone else for the past five hundred ninety-seven days, all I ever did was compare them to you. They were never you.” He holds my hands against his chest. “It’s always been you. I am so sorry I didn’t realize that sooner. I should have fixed us instead of letting you leave.” His voice cracks on the last few words and he’s searching my eyes for any indication of my feelings. “When I saw you tonight, I knew. I’ve been begging to any god that was listening for a sign and then, there you were, and I just knew. It’ll always be you. I don’t want it to be anyone else.”
“Harry, I just…” I trail off, both sides of my feelings fighting each other in my brain. On one hand, this is everything I ever wanted him to say to me. On the other hand, I’m unsure if I can trust him, no matter how sincere his words sound. I look at him, here in front of me on his knees, and I feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “All I ever wanted was you, and you betrayed my trust. How can I trust you again?” I ask.
“I’ll do anything.” He answers quickly. “I will work for the rest of my life to prove that you can trust me. I’m not the same person I was then.” He squeezes my hands. “I know my words aren’t enough, but I promise I will prove them to you. I know I was selfish then. I’m not anymore.” He shakes his head, looking into my eyes. I feel a single tear escape down my face, and he lets go of one of my hands to cradle my cheek and wipe it away. “I just want you to come back to me, baby. Please.” He whispers, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles, his eyes closing and taking in a deep breath.
I’m silent for a moment. I know he’s waiting for a response. I know he won’t pressure me if I say no…he’ll let me walk away if I really wanted to, and I think that’s what he’s expecting. The thing is, I don’t want to. I don’t want to run away this time. I’m so tired of running…running from my thoughts, my feelings, from everything. I remember all of the good. Writing with him, playing board games with him, going to events with him, the way he used to stroke my hair in bed every morning, the way he would come up with silly songs to make me feel better when I was having a bad day, the way we would dance in the kitchen while we were making dinner together, the way he always made me laugh and knew the right words to say…and when I think about him, before everything came falling down, all I can think of is the good. Before I can think about it any further I decide to go with my gut.
“Okay.” I whisper. He lifts his head up to look at me, his eyes glistening.
“What?” He looks at me with an expression of disbelief on his face.
“I said okay.” I take my hands from his and grab his face, pulling him closer so I can kiss him. Our lips meet and it’s like everything fell right back into place. After a few seconds, I pull away, touching my forehead to his. “I never want it to be anyone else, either.”
—————
ahhh!! i’m so excited to post this. I think i’m going to write more of their story, like how they met and things leading up to the break up. idk though!!! i hope you enjoy. 🥹 it’s not my best work but i still just love them so much. <3
#harry styles blurb#harry styles x fmc#famous!harry#harry styles#harry styles fic#thisloveleftapermaentmark#taylor swift#this love#harry#styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles au
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The Vice Admiral’s Daughter - Portgas D. Ace (|||)
a/n: part 3!!! idk why but this part was honestly the hardest to write and idk why bc i always right smut. um, anyways, this is gonna have like 1 or 2 more parts and then it’s done 🫶🏻 and i’m back to other fanfics (i have an iceberg & franky one sitting in my ideas box). feel free to send in asks / requests, and comment & reblogs are appreciated!!
warnings: ace x fem!reader, pirate!ace x marine!daughter!reader, fxm, 21!ace, 19!reader, oral (f & m receiving), (slight) fingering, cunnilingus, smut, mdni, i’m bad at tagging, not proofread (it’s never proofread)
ib: tagged in earlier post
request: yes / no
You’re awoken in the (very) early hours of the morning a few months later when you’re back at Loguetown. The transponder snail that sits beside your bed feels like it’s screaming in your ear and you groan into your pillow.
‘Hello?’
The voice on the other side comes over clearly, and you’re almost motivated to hang up right then and go back to sleep.
‘Hey sleepyhead.’ Ace laughs quietly. ‘I’m surprised you picked up. Did I wake you up?’
‘No.’ You lie through your teeth, rolling in your bed. ‘I was just walking my fish.’
‘Oh. That’s good… Have you missed me?’
You’re silent on your end of the line, and you can hear Ace’s smile drop.
‘Ace? How did you get my number? It’s private.’
You hear his laugh crackle over and it warms your heart a little.
‘Don’t worry about that. I just need you to come into town. To that bar we met at last time.’
‘The Smog Cutter? That place has been closed for a few months. It’s all abandoned now.’
‘I know, but I really need you to meet me there. Please.’
You groan again, weighing out your options before inevitably agreeing.
You don’t bother properly changing into clothes. Instead you just throw a shirt over your bra and shorts before running out of the house and into the township.
Ace is standing outside of the Smog Cutter. You hadn’t lied when you said it was closed and abandoned. The paint that used to decorate the front of the building had long since peeled off, and you could barely read the name of the place.
‘So that’s where you live?’ Ace said, looking at where you’d come from.
You’re out of breath when you reach him, but you stand up straight with your hands on your hips.
‘Well yeah. It’s the Vice-Admirals house aswell.’
‘They do live well, don’t they?’ He scoffed. You give him a sideways look as you both walk into the empty tavern.
‘Did you just call me out here to make comments on my lifestyle or what?’
‘…I missed you.’ His smile stretched and you’re met with piercing blue eyes looking straight at yours. ‘And I wanted to talk to you.’
You freeze for a second before giving him a “are you fucking serious” look.
‘Why would you “miss me”?’ You ask, sitting on one of the counter stools.
‘Because you’re special. You could’ve turned me in at any point, but you didn’t. You’ve talked to me. And the second time we met, you drank with me and made me laugh. And we’ll forget about the 3rd because that was a little messy, but besides the point. But the point is you’re special and i can’t get you out of my head.’
You listen to him closely, finally breaking a soft laugh at the end.
‘Careful, Fire Fist. You’re making it sound like you’re in love with me.’ He blushes and looks away, and you realise at that moment what he’s trying to say. ‘Oh. Oh.’
‘What on earth do you mean “Oh”?! I just poured my heart out to you and your reply is “Oh”?’
‘It’s an “Oh”, as in “Oh. The Vice-Admiral's daughter was correct in thinking that Portgas D. Ace did in fact want to take advantage of a 17 year old girl that night.’
‘Well, duh. But that only because you said-‘
‘Oh just the fuck up.’ You grinned, grabbing his chin and pressing your lips together chastely.
It takes Ace a minute to register before he relaxes into the kiss, being quick to add more fervour. You wrap your arms around his neck and he steps off his own seat and stands between your legs. He wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he continues to return your kiss passionately.
‘This is stupid.’ He whispers, trying to pull back from the kiss slightly. ‘We should stop. You have no idea how much trouble you’ll get in if we’re caught.’ He smirks, knowing he’s about to get a reaction.
‘Oh. But my warnings for the past 3 years have been ignored? Seems a little unfair.’ He chuckles and rolls his eyes.
‘Fine. But I’m being serious. This is dangerous. What happens if your dad finds out?’
‘He just won’t find out.’ You’re quick to reply, and even quicker to lean back into the rejoicing your mouths. Ace grins, pulling you impossibly closer. You take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. 3 years seems long enough for a starved man. He sighs into your mouth, pulling back to see your slightly dishevelled look.
‘You look so beautiful right now.’
You smile, lightly nipping at his jawline.
‘I want you so bad, Portgas D. Ace.’
He brings a hand to the back of your head, guiding your face back up to meet his lips. He bites down on your bottom lip, inciting a moan from you.
‘That’s not helping. I’m gonna go crazy if we keep doing this.’ He groaned, leaning over you so your back was pressed against the counter, one hand holding him up. ‘But god, do I love you so much. I’m gonna marry you someday.’
‘A bold statement.’ You whisper as he begins to explore your neck and collar. ‘Especially to make to the Vice-Admiral’s daughter.’
He grins and nods.
‘Well, you know me, princess. I like to take risks.’ He winks, coming back up to capture your lips once again. Sweet noises drip from your mouth and they all go to Ace’s dick as he slowly grinds his hips against yours. His free hand moves from your hip down to your ass, grabbing at the clothed muscle. Your own hands run up his forearms, then down his torso til they’re resting just above the waistband of his shorts. Teasingly, you grab his belt, holding him like he isn’t as close as possible.
‘Cheeky.’ He hisses, littering kisses over your shoulders. ‘Don’t make me fuck you in an abandoned bar.’
‘It’d be awfully fitting though, wouldn’t it?’ For once, it’s your voice that drops to a seductive tone. Ace groans lustfully, pressing his forehead against your skin. You bring your hand up to pull on the hair on the back of his neck. ‘Come on, Ace. Please fuck me in the bar.’
He feels himself fold right there and then. All sense of dignity fell out of him faster than he dropped to his knees for you.
‘You’re gonna be the death of me.’ He sighed, kissing your stomach. Wanted hands followed slowly after him, tracing the bumps of your spine. He kissed each of your thighs, biting lightly then smoothing the wound, littering your skin in love bites.
Your back’s digging into the counter as he decorated your body, even with your arms keeping you stable. Calloused fingertips trace your inner thighs, parting them slightly. Black eyes meet yours, the pirate leaning back to look at you.
‘You’re so hot from down here.’ He coos, resting his chin on your stomach.
‘I could say the same about you.’ Your hand finds its way to his face, caressing his cheek. ‘You look good on your knees.’
A fire lights in him, hotter than the one already there. You’re so unbelievably attractive, and he can’t even begin to process how he’d come to be blessed enough to get you.
Your thighs are once again littered in kisses, marks all along your inner skin. Your lips are slightly parted as he gets closer to your core. The only thing obstructing him is your thin pajama shorts. Your eyes met again and neither of you need to speak to know what he’s asking. You nod, holding your breath as your soft, pink folds are exposed. The hand on his cheek moves to his hair, running your fingers through his soft black strands. His eyes don’t leave yours as he takes the final step, his tongue flicking out to taste you for the first time. You gasp, mouth open and your head back. Ace smirks, lapping at your folds, then slipped a finger inside you, watching your wetness already coat his digit.
‘Ah fuck.’ You moan lowly, harshly massaging your breast through your top while the other tugs at his hair. A groan from Ace sends vibrations to your clit, stimulating your core. He smirks against your cunt as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, finding your sweet spot. You’re a whimpering mess in a matter of minutes, and you can feel your legs threatening to buckle beneath you. As if he can tell, Ace adds another finger, stretching you more as he thrusts increasingly deeper and eats you out.
‘A-Ace.’ You cry, tears threatening to spill. ‘I’m gonna cum.’
You’re holding his hair so tight you’re sure you’d have pulled some out by now, but it’s the last of your worries. His grin grows wider, feeling you pulsating around his fingers increasing his own arousal.
‘Cum for me, baby.’
Euphoria washes over you by his command, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back.
Touching yourself for the past 3 years had surficed, but this was by far the most intense orgasm you’d spent in your entire life, and all it took was Ace’s mouth and fingers.
Ace continued to lap at your folds, tasting and milking you through while you shake and shudder in pleasure.
‘Are you alright?’ You nod slowly, taking a moment to look down at him while you struggle to stay up. He chuckles softly, pulling back to look at you. ‘Quite the climax, aye?’
‘Shut up.’ You pant, pulling him up to his feet so you can kiss him again. You cringe slightly at the taste of yourself on his lips, but it’s so hot that you ignore it. As you’re making out, you run your hand down his torso, letting your fingers drag over his abs, then past his belt til you’re delicately palming his erect cock. He groans into your kiss, his body already trembling slightly from both your touch, and the adrenaline.
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’ He whispered, holding your wrist. You’re quick to shake your head, pulling away. His hair is messier than usual, and he looks absolutely divine like this.
‘That wouldn’t be fair.’ You pouted, putting on a sad girl act. You hold his shoulder and turn you both around so it’s now his back pressed against the counter. ‘Plus, you mustn’t think I love you enough if you think I’m going to wait another 4 months to give you head.’
His gaze is one of surprise, but then a soft smile emerges.
‘You think I’m gonna disappear again?’
Your foreheads are pressed together, and you slowly begin to stroke his dick, watching his breathing change.
‘Please don’t lie to me and say you won’t.’
He laughs lowly, hands finding your hips.
‘I promise I won’t leave. Not now that I have you. Do you trust me?’
‘No.’ Your reply is plain and harsh, but yours holds more truth than his. ‘You’re a pirate, Ace. You’ll need to leave whether you want to or not.’
He shrugs, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and holding your gaze.
‘True. But I meant more in the long run. I’m not going to leave you if you’ll be mine.’ He feels your smile against his lips, and it makes his heart flutter. You peck then quickly before lowering yourself to his knees.
‘I’ve been yours since Day 1, Fire Fist Ace.’
A shallow gasp escapes as Ace’s breath hitches, focused on your movements as you undress him. You’re working slowly, teasing him as you pull him free of his shorts. His hands slide round your face to your scalp, holding your hair back in a makeshift ponytail. A hum escapes at the slight tug. Eyes lock as your tongue pokes out in kitten licks against his tip. His reactions makes your insides giggle. His eyes roll back and his hands shake, hips leaning forward at your subtle touch.
‘You’re so sensitive, baby.’ You tease, peppering kisses down the length of his shaft. He just groans as you moan, your hand wrapped around him to pump rhythmically.
‘That’s because-‘ He’s cut off temporarily by a squeeze to his base and your lips pressed to his tip.
‘Because what-‘ You whisper, finally letting his cock slide into your mouth.
He shakes his head quickly, taking a deep breath to try to steady himself.
‘Because I’ve been avoiding other women since I saw you.’ A moan fills the bar, his dick plummeting deep into your throat. Your face lights up and you feel your heart melting at his confession. With an internal smile. you quicken your pace, stroking where your mouth can’t reach. Your other hand rests on his thigh, running your hands along the skin to keep him calm.
His fingers are digging into your scalp, holding your hair tightly as his hips involuntarily thrust forwards to meet your rhythm.
‘Oh fuck… I’m yours.’
You can hear your own muffled moans bouncing off the walls, and you should probably be concerned about who else can hear them. But that doesn’t matter when your boyfriend that you aren’t going to see for another long while is with you.
Ace’s breath becomes ragged, his other hand coming down to your cheek.
‘You feel so good, princess.’ He releases a long, low moan, his climax shuddering through his body. Your gag reflex kicks in as the fluid shoots down your throat, but you swallow it nonetheless. Common courtesy as he’d done the same for you. He’s shuddering in pleasure and relief while you milk him through, not releasing him until you’re sure he’s done.
You laugh quietly to yourself, pressing a few kisses to his thighs before standing and kissing him softly.
‘Are you still alive?’ You whisper, holding his waist. He gasps, heart racing and shaking, but nods.
‘Yeah… I’m alive.’
‘Good.’ You reply, pressing your foreheads together. ‘Do you need anything?’
‘Maybe water in a minute.’ He laughs, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
‘Mkay.’ You hum. ‘You lie down in one of the booths and I’ll get you a drink of water, ok?’
A weak attempt of helping him to the seat is made before you’re running off to the abandoned kitchen to look for cups. Ace’s eyes follow you as you run, filled with love and gratitude. You’re back in only a matter of seconds, 2 glasses of cold water in hand. You help him drink some of his water before taking a sip of yours and laying beside him.
‘Better?’ You ask, watching his carefully while love clouds your vision.
‘Much.’ You nod slowly, lips pressed together in a line.
‘Can I hug you?’
Ace stares at you with a raised eyebrow.
‘We just gave each other head and now you’re asking if we can hug?’ It’s a dumb question, you knew. But you’d have much rather asked and he’d said no than just “attacking him” and it’s not being reciprocated. You shrug and he just laughs, opening his arms to welcome you into his embrace. A welcome you take very quickly. Your face is quickly buried in the crook of his neck, feeling his breath fan against your skin.
‘If I was to sleep, would you still be here when I woke up?’
There’s a long silence between you both, and it makes the last event feel like a fever dream. It’s a silence that answers your own question.
‘You should come with me. To sea, I mean.’
You sigh, holding him tighter like he’s about to escape.
‘I can’t, Ace. Not right now.’
He hugs you just as tightly, twirling your hair around.
‘I promise I’ll be back soon. Ok? And then someday, I’ll come back and I won’t leave you.’
You’re not quick to respond, but a simple nod seems to suffice.
‘Ace.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I love you.’ You whisper, feeling your eyes start to droop and sleep start to take over. ‘And I’m really glad you manned up and asked me to be yours.’
Ace smiles softly, pressing his lips against your forehead for a long second.
‘I’ll make sure I never stop reminding you.’
You’re unsurprised when you wake up in your room the next morning, no sign that you’d even left (mind the slightly open window). There was a tinge of sadness knowing it would be a long while before you saw the pirate again, but you smile, tracing the marks he’d left on your body. These were the marks of your first time.
taglist: @rotin0
© kodydrs
all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform or media.
#kody☆#kodydrs#kody’s corner#ace one piece#one piece ace#one piece masterlist#one piece portgas d ace#one piece smut#one piece x reader#one piece#one peice#portgas ace smut#portgas d ace#portgas d ace x reader#portgas ace x reader#ace x reader#ace x you#ace x y/n#ace smut#portgas ace x you#portgas d ace x y/n#portgas ace x y/n#portgas ace fluff#ace fluff
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“You Found Me” Paul Lahote x reader
Request: @simply-kylie I’ve just lately I’ve really been into the song “You Found Me” by the Fray and I just I feel like it could possibly be like a good song imagine request for a Paul Lahote one
A/n: This took me way longer than necessary, I apologize.
Warnings: Angst (?) with a happy ending, song fic (sort of), Paul and his anger issues, overthinking, anxiety if you squint, a little humor, my writing
--
I found God on the corner of First and Amistad
Where the west was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I said, "Where you been?" He said, "Ask anything"
“Paul, I know you’re upset, but I have no choice in this.” You attempted to console Paul. You knew this hurt him as it hurt you too.
“You could tell them you don’t want to go, that you want to stay here, with us, with me.” Paul tried to convince you to stay in Washington. Your family was moving to Florida, you didn’t know if it was permanent or temporary, but saying goodbye still hurt.
“I'm only 14, they’re not going to listen to me.” You knew trying to persuade your parents futile, the hard part was getting Paul to see that.
“Y/N, let's go.” You winced when you heard your mother call you from the moving truck.
“You’re not willing to try? For any of your friends?” Paul looked betrayed, his overthinking and anger issues getting the better of him.
“That’s not-” As soon as you started, you were interrupted by the boy standing in front of you.
“All I’m getting from this is you’re not willing to try for your friends.” He continued to jump to conclusions.
“Paul, I can’t. We are already packed up and everything is in the truck. It’s not like they would listen anyway.” You felt tears swell up in your eyes. “I have to go.” Your voice cracked. He looked as hurt as you felt.
“Don’t call. Goodbye, Y/n.” Paul stomped off in the direction he came from. While you wanted to follow and make things right, your parents you calling to get in the car from behind you.
That was 3 years ago. You are now 17. Despite the want to fix everything with Paul, you respected his wishes and never called. You think back to that day a lot, thinking of all the ways that you could’ve said to make it go better.
Where were you when everything was fallin' apart?
All my days were spent by the telephone
That never rang and all I needed was a call
That never came to the corner of First and Amistad
You were on your way back to La Push, Washington. Your parents didn’t like Florida and decided to move back. It wasn’t as hard on you, emotionally, going back to Washington. You didn’t make very many friends in Florida; the ones you did make, you weren’t close with.
Pulling back into your old driveway, you sighed, dreading all the unpacking you had to do. Your father’s car pulled in beside you while your mother parked the moving truck behind your father.
Sighing again, you got out of your car. Might as well get this started, you thought.
--
Later that day, you finished unpacking your room. You had opted to decorate it during the week whenever you felt like it. You had gone on a walk afterwards, to clear your head.
Despite the need to clear your thoughts, they clouded your mind, only worse now that you were alone. You wanted to see Paul. You had missed him so much. You still considered him your childhood best friend after all.
Then came the overthinking. If you visited him, would he be happy to see you again? Would he be angry at you? Would he laugh or slam the door in your face?
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Lost in these probing thoughts, you found yourself at the Lahote house. Lost in your thoughts, your feet led you to his house. How cliché.
Weighing your options, you decided to take the leap and do it. Like they always say, ‘the worst that could happen is they say no’. Although, in the back of your mind, you knew much worse could happen.
You treaded up the stairs of the porch, to their door. Mentally hyping yourself up. You raised your hand up, hesitating a bit. Here goes nothing.
And you knocked.
Once. Twice. Then, a final time.
You let your hand fall down to your side.
Now came the antagonizing anticipation. With any luck, no one would answer, and you could go home and forget you ever thought about doing this.
But luck wasn’t on your side. Your heartbeat sped up as the door swung open and revealed Paul.
He had changed a lot in the past 3 years. He got taller, at least 6’0, and he got buff like buff. Is he on steroids?
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
Paul stood frozen as he looked at you. Guess he was just as shocked to see you as you were him.
You just stared back awkwardly until you realized you were going to have to say something first.
“Hi, Paul,” You whispered, albeit loud enough for him to hear. This seemed to snap him out of his trance.
“You came back?” He whispered back in astonishment. “I... I didn’t think you were going to come back.”
In the end, everyone ends up alone
Losin' her, the only one who's ever known
Who I am, who I'm not, and who I wanna be
No way to know how long she will be next to me
“Yeah, to be honest, I didn’t think so either.” You started, “We just got back today, and I thought ‘why not give an old friend a visit?’.” You looked down, taking a deep breath before looking back up at him. “I missed you.”
“Not enough to call or at least send letters.” Paul shot back, bitterly.
“You said not to.” You responded quietly.
“You knew not to take anything I say while angry literally, or I thought you did.” He said, mumbling the last part.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve at least tried.” You replied, acknowledging your mistake. If you were being honest, you never saw it this way and you now knew you should’ve tried.
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lyin' on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Paul stepped forward, embracing you in a little too warm, but welcome nonetheless, hug. The amount of warmth radiating off of him was concerning, but you opted to mind your business. You hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his waist the best you could.
“I missed you too.” He mumbled into your shoulder.
You stayed like that for a good minute, basking in each other's presence, afraid you’d lose the other again if you let go.
Paul was the first to pull away. Not far though, you still had your arms wrapped around each other.
“Do you want to come in? Dad won’t be home until tomorrow.” He offered.
“At least take me on a date first, Lahote.” You joked. Paul laughed, shaking his head.
“Good to know you haven’t changed much.” He let go of you. You let your arms fall down to your sides.
You grinned, “Yes, I’ll come in.”
Paul nodded, stepping aside to allow you in. You walked in, looking around. Everything still looked the same as 3 years ago.
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, you found me
Paul walked towards the living room with you trailing behind him. You sat on one end of the couch, him on the other side, facing each other.
“I tried to call, you know.” You looked up at him.
“I never got it.” You responded.
“You probably did. It was just a new phone number.” You giggled.
“Paul, you know I don’t answer unknown numbers. You should’ve left a voicemail or something.” You quipped.
“Yeah, should’ve known better.” He snickered.
Early mornin', the city breaks
I've been callin' for years and years and years and years
And you never left me no messages, you never sent me no letters
You got some kind of nerve, takin' all I want
You spent hours catching up. You told him about Florida and how crazy it was. Paul informed you that your friend group had gone separate ways shortly after you left. He wasn’t completely left alone. About a year ago, he made friends with Sam Uley and Jared Cameron. Since then, more had joined their group.
When you had decided to go home, Paul offered to drive you. He didn’t want you walking alone. Apparently while you were gone, Forks’ crime rate went up.
“If you aren’t doing anything tomorrow, do you want to come meet my friends?” He asked, parking in your driveway.
“Sure, I’d love to. As long they remember I’m the original.” You teased causing him to laugh.
“I’m sure you’ll remind them.” Paul poked back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, P.” You climbed out of his truck. You closed the door and headed into the house.
You found me, you found me
Why'd you have to wait
To find me? To find me
#twilight#twilight saga#twilight wolfpack#twilight imagine#twilight x reader#twilight wolfpack imagine#twilight wolfpack x reader#paul lahote#paul lahote imagine#paul lahote x reader
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Truly Yours - Ominis Gaunt [Part 1]
Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem!Ravenclaw Reader
A/N: Oh hey. Long time no see. I've had a lot happening and I finally feel like I'm able to write again. I haven't replayed the game just yet so I apologise if Ominis seems off this is just my mind Ominis. Also you may read this and question if I remember that Ominis is blind. I do. Anyways, you may look at this and say, "Milo, this is weirdly similar to another fic your wrote. Truly Yours, remember?" An my answer is yes, yes it is. Someone lovingly requested that I switch the roles of the fic to Ominis pining after the reader. I love the request so here she is. To be honest I'm most worried about this not living up to the original but we can't all be perfect can we? Anyways, I'm back and I love you all. Thank you for still reading my work and giving it love. Enjoy.
You feel the bench shift as it’s weighed down to your left. You look over and see that Ominis has joined you. Odd…you think. You look around for Sebastian and see him lounging at a table in the back of the classroom, talking to Poppy. You look back at Ominis and smile lightly.
“Umm, Ominis…sorry, I’m not Sebastian,” you say quietly, hoping not to embarrass him.
He turns his head toward you and pauses, opening his mouth as if to say something. Before he does, he closes his mouth again, standing up and pulling his wand out. “Sorry,” he replies, walking over to Sebastian and sitting down.
You watch him as he walks away and turn back around, frowning. I hope I didn’t offend him…
As Professor Ronin walks in, Poppy walks over and sits next to you. She smiles widely at you and lays her hand on yours. “So what was Ominis doing over here?”
You shrug and smile back. “No idea. I assumed he just had the wrong table.”
She nods and leans back. “Okay…”
You fold your arms and laugh. “What?”
She shakes her head and looks up at Professor Ronin who stands at the front of the class, beginning his lesson. You look over at Ominis and see him listening intently. You sigh and look down at your textbook, tuning into the rest of Professor Ronin’s lecture.
***
“Ow!” you shout as something hits you in the back of the head, thumping onto the ground of your room. You turn around and see a small box on the ground at your feet. You pick it up and look up to see Samantha standing in your doorway.
“Little birdy left that for you at dinner but you never showed.” She smiles. “Gift from an admirer, Y/N?”
You laugh and shake your head. “Not possible, but I’m grateful you think so highly of me.” The box is small enough to fit in your hand with a string tying it shut. A small piece of parchment lies under the string and you pull it out, flipping it over.
Y/N,
I had hoped to find something as beautiful as you,
but this will have to do. I hope you enjoy.
Yours Truly,
G
You stare at it for a moment and look back up at Samantha. “You may be right, actually.”
She gasps and runs over, looking down at the box in your hands. “Well open it then!”
You look down at the box and pull the string. Opening it up you find a necklace. A gorgeous sliver chain adorned with jewels and a large sapphire. Samantha gasps again and you stare down at the necklace.
“That’s beautiful,” Samantha says quietly. “You have to try it on,” she says, looking up at you.
You look at her and smile. “I don’t even know who this is from.” She takes the note from your hand and looks at it. She frowns and looks back up at you. “Not Garreth…right?”
You laugh and shake your head. “I hope not! I’m sure it’s not. Sweet boy, but no.”
Samantha gestures to the necklace and you nod. She picks it up and gently puts it around your neck, clasping it. You walk over to your mirror and look at it. It really is beautiful…you think. You turn to Samantha and sigh. “I guess I have to go ask Garreth about it, don’t I…?”
She presses her lips together and nods. “Best option.”
As you make your way to find Garreth you think about how you’ll even ask him. Hi, Garreth. Did you gift me this necklace? No, too forward. Hi, Garreth. Are you secretly in love with me? That’s worse. Hi, Garreth do you-
“Y/N!” shouts a voice behind you.
You turn around to see Sebastian walking over. “Hi, Sebastian,” you reply, smiling.
He stops in front of you and looks down at your necklace. “Nice jewels. I was wondering who that was for.”
You smile at his statement. “Thanks! I got it from…wait…you know who gave this to me?”
He stares at your for a moment, eyes growing wide. He returned himself to a calm composure and folds his arms. “I do not.”
You put your hands on your hips and frown. “You definitely do.”
He shakes his head and backs up. “No idea, have a nice day.” He smiles mischievously and walks away, humming to himself. You sigh and touch the necklace. That whole interaction created more questions than it answered. Garreth will have to wait.
***
“I find it hard to describe my feelings for you,” Everett says theatrically, holding up a piece of paper. The students around him laugh and you sit down, looking over at him.
“What’s that, Everett?”
He freezes and looks over at you. “Oh…umm…yours…?” he replies, slowing handing the paper to you.
You take it and look down at it. It’s a letter. From G again. Your frown and look back at Everett. “That’s not very nice, opening people’s mail, is it?”
He swallows. “No. Sorry, Y/N.” You sigh and look back at the letter, reading it.
Y/N,
I had hoped to write a letter to you, explaining why I feel the need to present you with gifts. This issue at hand, however, is that I find it hard to describe my feelings for you. I know how I feel, but attempting to express this in words has proved troublesome. I will attempt to express them hear and I hope my quill portrays my feelings correctly.
You are, in short, beautiful. I have been searching for ways to explain this and can only come up with this: You are beautiful like the moon. You are beautiful like the flowers that bend in the breeze. You are beautiful like the sea, rushing up against the cliffs.
You are so intelligent as well. Of course, you may claim I say this just because you are a Ravenclaw, but I do mean it. You are one of the smartest witches I have ever met. You rival even the best witches and wizards and I am humbled to know you.
You radiate a warmth that feels safe and kind. I wonder how often you notice me and if it is as often as I notice you. The time we spend apart is too much for me to bear. I long to be near you again and I hope we will meet again soon. Until then…
Eternally yours,
G
You stare at the letter for a long moment, taking in the words. Whoever this is has spent a lot of time thinking about you. You fold the letter and shove it in your robe pockets, standing and leaving the Great Hall. You round the corner towards the stairs and bump into someone, stumbling back. You hear a quiet grumble and look up to see Ominis. “Oh! Ominis, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
He straightens and turns his face toward you. “I could say the same thing,” he replies, flatly. You stare at him for a moment and then burst into laughter. He smiles lightly. “Where were you going in such a hurry?” he asks, tiling his head.
You pull the letter from your pocket. “Someone sent me a letter. A…uh…well, a love letter, I guess. I was going to my room to think.”
He stiffens and turns away, slightly, smile dropping. “I see. I hope it isn’t crass.”
You shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “No. It’s…well it’s very sweet actually.”
He turns back toward you, smile returning and nods. "Good."
You put the letter back in your pocket and open your mouth to say something, hesitating. “Ominis…you don’t happen to know who G is, do you? Sebastian definitely knows but he won’t say anything.”
He shakes his head. “No…sorry…”
You smile. “No worries. I should get going though, I don’t want to hold you up,” you say, resting a hand on his shoulder. “See you in Potions Class, Ominis.” You drop your hand and head back to your room. They’re both totally lying, huh…?
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy imagine#ominis gaunt#hogwarts#sebastian sallow#hogwarts legacy mc#hogwarts legacy ominis#ominis gaunt fluff#ominis x you#ominis#ominis x reader#ominis x mc
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Hi chronivac support!
I need your help, I was messing with my fat roommate, teasing him about his weight and beard. When he deciding to get out his phone and type. He showed me his screen, all it said was Bear and duration permanent. I’m starting to feel bloated, I tried to apologize but he doesn’t care.
Please, PLEASE tell me you can prevent me from turning into a big fat bear like my stinking roommate
Whew, your roommate is quite an expert at using Chronivac. He has worded everything very precisely. But at least I still have the option to put in "weaknesses" that you are addicted to the gym. Unfortunately, I can't change the fact that it already says "chocolate and sugary drinks". Your roommate enjoys torturing you. Accordingly, the process of your transformation will take several hours. And what I have just told you, you will immediately forget. The process does not take place obviously for you.
While you are sitting at your computer, you get hungry. Fortunately, there are always a few bags of chips and a few bars of chocolate in your desk. You grab a Coke from the fridge and continue typing away at your paper. You don't even notice that you're cleaning your greasy fingers on your T-shirt. Nor do you notice that your belly is starting to bulge. And at some point you don't feel like working on your paper for university anymore. You prefer to watch porn. Fuck, that was a good shot. Cum on the keyboard, on your T-shirt and everything runs down your cock into your pubic hair. Hehehe, you take a dirty jockstrap from the floor and wipe everything with it as best you can. You hold the jockstrap in your face. Damn, it smells good. You don't want to go to university anymore. You have weighed. Then you could actually go to the gym now. You pack a few protein bars and the dirty jockstrap into your gym bag, pull a T-shirt and a pair of shorts out of the mountain of dirty clothes and set off.
Bro, you're in good shape. You're really lifting a lot of weight today. Your only problem is that you're really sweating like a pig. It's not worth it to take a shower. You'd be wet again by the time you got back to the dorm anyway. When you get back, your roommate is sitting in front of the TV. You strip down to your jockstrap, throw the sweaty clothes into your room, take a Coke from the fridge and ask your pal if he's up for pizza. He does. You order an XXL with extra cheese and extra salami.
One pizza and two jerk-offs later, you're lying in bed. Tomorrow you clean up. Tomorrow you take care of the laundry. For sure. And then you go to sleep.
Fuck, what a crazy dream, you think to yourself and caress your belly… Around you a mess. Pizza boxes, dirty laundry, Coke bottles, chips bags. Hehehe, you fit in here well, you stink of cum and sweat. Your roommate opens your door, farts into the room and laughingly says that it makes it better in case of doubt. The fat fellow is so hot! You follow him naked into the kitchen and hug him as well as your bellies allow. You would love to fuck him right on the kitchen table. But probably that would collapse under load.
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Kinktober Day 14
Prompt: Humiliation
Pairing: nonidol!Jeongin (I.N) x olderfem!reader
WC: 2k
Summary: You’ve had a day. You need a drink. Alone preferably. And yet here comes the boy who has been staring you down all night.
This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Jeongin (I.N) or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.
I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.
TW/CW Preface. Jeongin uses the word “noona” to refer to the reader. I just really couldn’t think of a better word to refer (cutely) to a woman older than you but not “mommy” and part of what this specific version of him gets off on is the power of fucking someone older than him. ANYWAY if that give you the ick, turn back now.
Additional TW/CW below the cut.
TW/CW: fucking in a bathroom, humiliation, degradation, reader nicknames- (noona, ONE instance of “mommy”, whore, dumb slut, slut, disgusting), under negotiated kink, cum in panties, dubcon (they’re drunk, most agree that consent at this point is...well murky AT BEST), ROUGH sex (gagging, underprepped, no aftercare). Age gap *(unspecified, reader is older)
“Oh no no no,” you stopped the young man in his tracks. “You are much too young for me baby boy.”
He hadn’t spoken a single word to you yet, spending most of the night staring at you from the corner of the bar as many other men had all of your life. You didn’t need to know much, his sweet dimpled face told you everything you needed to know. Old enough to drink, sure, but certainly too young for you.
“Aw,” his voice sounds disappointed yet determined as he smiles. “Noona, you haven’t even let me speak, you don’t know why I’m here.”
Coolly taking another sip of your drink, you look at him from the corner of your eye. “I know you’ve been staring at me all night. It’s enough to make assumptions.”
“So you’re like a museum piece? I can look but I can’t touch?” He sticks the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he smiles and winks cheekily.
You let out an exasperated sigh, the line was cheesy but his audacity was admirable. Looking straight ahead you down your drink, if this was what the night was, leave it up to Bacchus, not your brain. “Do you have an elevator pitch or do I have to suffer more bad lines?”
“The elevator pitch, noona, is that younger guys are the trend. You seem like a trendsetter. It seems like a great opportunity for you to increase your portfolio and it just so happens that I have availability for tonight.”
“I regret the elevator pitch, buy me a drink or do you need to call your parents to authorize the charge?”
“No mommy, I’m a big boy in more than one way.” He tries to wink and cringes. “That was bad. I'm sorry, I’ll grab your next drink if you let me.”
Eyes wide with disbelief you weigh your options, send the kid away or see what the night brings. In reality he can’t be THAT much younger than you. You’re both here in a bar, drinking,he has to be at least twenty one years old. Unless he has a fake, the devious little shit. You’ve already spent more time with him than you’d originally intended. Before you’re able to politely wave him off your smartwatch pings and you go delving into the depths of your purse. In the time it takes you to dig the bartender is back and the kid is ordering you and himself another round.
“I thought you said ‘if you let me’ I don’t recall giving you permission.”
“You seemed preoccupied and if i’m being honest, a little stressed. No pressure, you can enjoy it without me, or with me. You must admit I’m at least a little exciting, I might be fun to keep around a bit longer.”
Fighting your smile you nod nonchalantly to the barstool next to you. “The seat’s open.”
You don’t remember how many drinks you’ve had but it’s enough to be following him to the bathroom. Him -Jeongin, IN, Innie- he had so many names from his friends and family. It was less alcohol than you’d hoped before you’d fallen to his boyish charm. Eager, honest, and way too fucking into you to pass up.
His hand is on your lower back as the two of you walk towards the back, almost as if you’re going to exit through the kitchen instead of heading to one of the three single occupancy bathrooms. Touching the doorknob you hesitate briefly, door creaking under the light pressure.
Jeongin is on you before the door even finishes opening, spinning you around to face him, hands on your hips as he backs you through the door in an impassioned kiss.
“What if someone sees?” You half whisper as he kisses your neck, fumbling with the small zipper of your skirt.
“Then they’ll know we’re fucking,” he states simply, giving up on the skirt and yanking your blouse free. “Do you have a problem with that?”
The heat of embarrassment creeps at the sides of your face and twists in your gut pleasantly. “Isn’t it…they’d know…” your tongue ties, a girlish giggle from a fluttering heart interrupting. Jeongin isn’t helping as he pushes the cups of your bra down, thumbs running over your nipples as he hurries to free your breasts.
“Does that excite you? Someone walking in on you getting fucked by some stranger in a shit bathroom in a shity dive bar?” Jeongin pinches your nipples slightly, your eyes rolling as you bite back a moan.
“It does.”
“What does?” He pinches your nipples again.
“Fucking a stranger in a shitty dive bar.” Your heart jumps, just saying it outloud feels exciting. Hearing his words in your voice feels more real.
“What does fucking a stranger do?” His lips ghost over your neck as he nearly whispers, each consonant buzzing against you. Hand traveling between your thighs, the tips of his fingers rub circles in the cotton fabric of your underwear, right above your clit.
“Turns me on, fuck, Jeongin!” You squeal
The squish of your damp panties is proof enough of his handiwork. “And you thought a kid like me couldn’t have a woman like you.” He laughs, nibbling at the column of your throat. “So wet for me already. Can control everything but that needy cunt of yours. Who got you this worked up?
Pushing the gusset of your panties aside his middle finger plays at your entrance, circling slowly, barely dipping in. “You did,” you gasp, hips canting to try to trick him into slipping further down your channel.
Gathering some of your essence on his fingers he backs off, playing with the strands clinging between his fingers. “Clean them,” he offers to you, your eyes already glazed over an unfocused as you lean into the tiled wall.
You do it, eagerly. Taking his digits into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them. Sucking him clean and then some.
“So your mouth is good for something,” he coos pressing your mouth open to fuck along the soft pink surface of your tongue. Watching drool pool and spill from the corners of your lips. “You’re so much hotter when you give into me. Just like this. Why don’t you put that smart little mouth around my cock?”
There’s no discussion, you simply slip to the floor, knees pressing into the cold dirty tile. “Disgusting” you mutter to yourself.
Grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jeongin tilts your head up, looming over you. “Just like you. Now open and stick your tongue out like the dumb slut you are.”
Eyes wide you comply. His lips purse as he summons a globule of spit, letting it cling to his lips as it drops slowly down to your mouth. “Keep it open,” he demands, freeing his stiffened member from its confines. Using the tip he pushes his spit along your tongue, watching his length eclipse the velvety pink surface. “Just look at how sweet you can be,” he coos, “from here you aren’t so scary at all are you, noona?”
Doe-eyed you look up at him and shake your head no. Holding your jaw as open as you can for him, relaxing all the way through the back of your throat as he pushes deeper. The stretch at the hinges of your jaw is almost painful as he smiles down at you, the cute dimples suddenly seem sinister when paired with his actions. It sends a shiver all the way down to your core. You’re so pent up you could scream, instead whimpering and squeezing your thighs together for relief. Guilty that it turns you on so much you can barely form thoughts as he fucks into your open mouth, hand cushioning the back of your head from the tile wall.
Kicking your knees apart, Jeongin slides his shoe under your ass as you hump blindly against his leg. It provides some, albeit humiliating, relief to your throbbing cunt.
“Just what would your colleagues think? Humping my leg like a flithy slut. A professional like you getting broken down by a boy like me.” He finally pushes all the way back, breaching the ring of muscle at the top of your throat as you gag around him. Mucus and spit and tears covering your cheeks and chin, eyes glazed over.
“Doing alright?” Jeongin asks sweetly, hand slowly wiping the mess across your face.
“Fuck me. Please. Please. I need it so badly. I’m so ready for you baby please.”
“Get up.”
You wobble still half drunk on alcohol half drunk on hormones, leaning into the wall for support.
“Grab the sink.”
The white ceramic of the sink is cool against your overheated skin as you hold onto the edge of the basin, waiting. Blurry eyed you watch him through the mirror in front of you, like the killer in a horror movie about to claim his next victim. He looks wild while you look like a wreck, makeup running down your cheeks and hair in knots. He hoists your skirt to your waist, pushing your soaked panties to the side.
“You won’t need any prep right? You’ve taken cock enough right? I’m just a young guy, it’ll be no problem for you with all your experience.”
Your mouth opens to beg him to go slow, instead it feels like your gut is punched through your esophagus as his blunt head bullies its way between your walls. The stretch sudden and brutal. Sliding forward with him, hips bruising against the lip of the sink, your face smushes into the mirror in front of you with a reedy whine.
“Shit, you’re tight noona. Fuck.” He grunts as he rocks closer to you, steadying for a second before he begins in earnest. Fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass he pulls almost all the way back, savoring the feeling of your walls tugging him back in eagerly. The dip of your back arches more dramatically as he thrusts forward, drawing another whine from you.
Pulling you upright and tight to his chest his hand covers your mouth tightly. “Do you want everyone to know I’m ruining you? Or are you just so fucked out you don’t care anymore.”
“Fucked,” you sob, spit coating the palm of his hand. “Good. Fucked.”
He thrusts up again. The combination of slight angle change and the press of the sink against your groin has his tip aimed directly into the soft target of your spot. It’s overwhelmingly good as he jackhammers into you, hips snapping ruthlessly. Panting your body shifts violently between limp and clenched, unsure of how to handle the overload of pain and pleasure.
“Go ahead slut, cum on my cock. You’re lucky I’m even letting you.” He sneers, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. The tickle of his breath is what sends you over the edge, shaking and gasping as your walls clamp around him. He leans the both of you forward as you vision darkens, body slackening against the mirror. Cheek pressed to your lower back you both pant as he withdraws suddenly, staggering back from you slightly.
You hardly notice he’s left you like that, only alerted by the click of the door unlocking and closing again. In your post climax sobriety you realize you have no idea if he’d even bothered to wear a condom. Slowly your hand slides over your ass, nearly gagging at the smear of sticky residue stuck to the inside of your underwear. Drifting higher to pull your skirt down, something small like a clothing tag pokes you.
A business card.
“I got your tab, call me,” scrawled hastily on the back.
Sorry i’m off my groove I actually wrote this one three fucking times. One veered into A/B/O territory which is so out of my league like i don’t know what i was thinking. Love reading it, no idea how to write it.
Anyway I’m going to make my way againnnnn!
#jeongin smut#yang jeongin smut#i.n smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids kinktober#skz kinktober#kpop smut#kpop kinktober#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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what if i told you (i love you) part 2 - joel miller
pairing: joel miller!fem reader
chapter summary: when joel and ellie's stay turns out to be longer than expected, you have to figure out how you're going to deal with having him around.
word count: 1.9k
warnings: insinuated smut, angst, mentions of death, mentions of abortion, little bit of fluff(?), and ellie being a cool big sister! let me know if i missed anything please. also this isn't edited lol sorry
authors note: GUYS!!!! WHAT THE HECK! thank you all so so so much from the very bottom of my heart for all the love on the story. comments, reblogs, and likes feed my angsty writing soul <3 y'all are the best! please take caution to the warnings for this chapter and read safely <3 if anyone wants to send thoughts, suggestions ect, here is my ask box. and lastly, if you want to be added to my tag list please fill out this super short form here <3 oh one more thing! I know last chapter was in past tense but I hate writing that unless I’m doing flashbacks so from now on, it’s all present tense unless I do a flashback
masterlist what i write series masterpost
Boston 2018
The first time you could blame it on the bad liquor. The second time, you could say it was the adrenaline from nearly getting killed by a pack of clickers but the third time you found yourself underneath Joel Miller, there was nobody to blame but yourself. You’d been working with him and Tess for a couple years and always thought the two of them were together. However, while on a supply run with just Tess about a year after you met them, you discovered that while there was an initial attraction, things were strictly business between them. You really had no plans to deal with the man further than supply runs and trades but after you had a taste of what could be, you didn’t want to go without.
You knew that things weren’t exclusive and never would be. It was simply a way for the both of you to blow off steam in this shitty world so after you missed your period not once, but twice, you realized that things might be more complicated than you had planned. Approaching Joel about the situation was not something you were looking forward to so you confided in Tess, who after scolding you, said you had two options. She knew a person who “took care of these problems” and could get your situation resolved with little to no damage or you could do what she thought was unfair, and bring a new life into the world that had become so cruel, most didn’t want to live anyway. You weighed your options for about a week, avoiding Joel whenever he tried to get you alone because all you wanted to do was blurt out that you were pregnant to get it off your chest but somehow, you knew how he would react.
Everybody had lost someone during the outbreak and although it was never confirmed by Joel, you knew he’d lost a child. Somewhere inside you, there was a small hope that maybe this tiny little life inside you could help fill some of the void but it was smashed when you eventually told him.
His cold expression and cold words were hurtful but not unexpected.
“How could you be so careless?”
You’d argued with him for over an hour, the whole “it takes two to tangle” argument but eventually you had enough and told him if he wanted nothing to do with it, this was the time because you weren’t going to wait around forever. So when his last words to you were “leave”, you decided then and there that you were done with Joel Miller. You’d waited a few weeks after Tess asked you to even though you knew that he wouldn’t come around. The day you left, you said goodbye to Tess, telling her where you planned to go and told her if Joel asked about you, not to tell him anything. If you could help it, you planned to never see Joel again.
Jackson, Wyoming 2023
Much to your dismay, Joel is at the dining hall the next morning. He’s sitting with Tommy and Ellie but you can feel his eyes on you while you watch Jack eat his breakfast. It’s like a repeat of yesterday, only this time you’re worried that Hazel may have actually poisned his food. She grumbled when he walked in the doors but didn’t say much.
Ellie eventually makes her way over to where you and Jack are sitting, shyly asking if she can sit with you and play with Jack. You hesitate but Jack gives you puppy eyes and you can never say no to him. Some of his facial expressions always reminded you of Joel but with the man actually being here now, you’re noticing it much more. You look over at him and his eyes are locked on the three of you sitting together so you look back at Ellie.
“So…” you begin, waiting for her to look up at you and when she does, you can see the mischievous look in her eyes.
“You’re gonna ask me about Joel,” she grins, “y’know, he was talking to Tommy about you last night. They thought I was asleep but there was a lot of yelling.”
“What exactly were they saying?” you ask, and she looks back at Jack, taking the piece of food he offers her.
“I dunno, Joel was grumpy that Tommy didn’t tell him that you were here but Tommy told Joel that you didn’t want him to know,” she says, “he’s always grumpy though, so that’s nothing new.”
You weren’t planning on asking her but you’re dying to know how exactly Joel ended up dragging a teenager all the way to Wyoming.
“What’s the deal with you and Joel?” you ask, “not a long lost kid, are you?”
She just laughs and shakes her head, “nah, I mean he acts like a dad but he’s just fulfilling a request from someone. I’m just cargo.”
She says it non-chalantly but something in her expression changes, so small you barely notice. It’s there though but before you can question her further, she turns the tables back to you.
“What the deal with you and Joel? I mean, clearly the kid is his… did he-”
“Ellie,” a voice cuts in and you both jump, not noticing that Joel somehow snuck up on the both of you. Before either of you can answer, a little voice speaks up.
“Hi,” Jack says, waving at Joel who once again, looks shocked that there’s a child there. The boy offers him a handful of mushed up fruit and you watch as Joel hesitantly accepts it.
You’ve watched Joel take down countless clickers and raiders so it amuses you that a toddler scares him.
Jack takes a loud slurp of his water and tries to hand it to Joel before you take it from him, rolling your eyes. Ellie is watching the interaction with amusement and you can even see Tommy from across the hall, watching closely.
“Who’re you?” Jack asks, trying to pass Joel more food. You take his plate, ignoring his grumbling. Another thing that Jack does that reminds you of Joel are his mood swings. Some days he is a chatterbox and others, you can barely get a peep out of him. Those days, he reminds you of Joel.
When Joel looks at you, this time with panic written across his face, you shrug. You’re beginning to find this amusing because who knew all it would take is a toddler to break the big Joel Miller.
“Ellie, I have to go with Tommy for a bit. Don’t leave the four walls of this town,” he points at her when she raises her hands in defense, “I told Maria to keep an eye on you.”
“Don’t worry old man, I think I’ll hang out with these two,” she tells him but then shyly looks at you, “if that's alright.”
You nod and watch as her face lights up. She goes back to talking to the little boy sitting next to her and you look at Joel who is shifting uncomfortably.
“Uh, thanks,” he mumbles without looking at you before quickly walking back to Tommy. You watch the two of them leave, the older man casting one more glance you way before his brother pats him on the back firmly.
“He’s got it bad for you,” Ellie says absently, “like real bad. Were you two like, together?”
You stare at her for a solid minute, wondering where the hell this kid came from. Was she this blunt before? Or has Joel corrupted her?
“It’s complicated, and a long story.”
“Is it longer than a week? ‘Cause I think that’s how long we’re staying,” she says and you hide a frown. You’re still trying to find out exactly why they’re here and now you find out they’re only staying a week? You can’t decide if you are relieved or disappointed.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You offer, wanting to get out of this conversation because talking about your non existent relationship with Joel to a 14 year old is at the bottom of your to-do list. “Jack likes seeing the sheep and horses.”
Ellie grins and you can’t help but smile when she offers her hand to Jack who accepts it eagerly. You can tell she’s trying to fill a void and you’re beginning not to mind.
. . .
Later that night after Jack is long asleep, you sit outside on your porch wrapped up in a winter jacket and blanket. It’s cold but you need some fresh air to try and get your thoughts straightened out. Ellie tried to bring up yours and Joel’s history multiple times but eventually gave up on it once she realized you weren’t going to say anything. You haven’t seen Joel since this morning, spending the day with Ellie and Jack, then eating dinner and dropping the girl off at the house she and Joel are staying at before going back to your own and putting your kid to bed.
Joel showing up out of the blue is bringing back too many memories, some good but some bad.
Suddenly, a voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you curse Joel Miller again for sneaking up on you. Being in Jackson so long is making you let your guard down too much.
“Hey,” he says, standing at the bottom of your porch steps awkwardly, “the kid gone to bed?”
Small talk. He is trying to make small talk.
“What do you want, Joel?” You ask shortly, half wanting to leave before he says anything else but if he is seeking you out, you want to know what he is looking for from you.
“I, uh, I wanted to say thanks,” he says stumbling over his words, “for entertaining Ellie today. She was real pleased-”
“I didn’t do it for you,” you snap, “she’s a good kid.”
He just nods, staring at the ground and scuffing his boots on the dirt. You watch as he clears his throat and looks up at you, a sadness in his eyes that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen.
“Tess is gone,” he says, and even though you had your suspicions since she’s not with him and he travelling all the way here, his words feel like a punch in the stomach.
“How?”
“She got bit on our way here,” he tells you and you just nod, swallowing back tears. Six years ago, you might’ve let him comfort you but all you want now is to yell or scream at him. Ellie wouldn’t tell you why they were here or why she was with Joel and you know you won’t get anything out of him. You know the only reason for his late night visit is to break the news about Tess.
When you stand up, his mouth opens to protest but he just offers you the closest thing he has to a smile. It’s pitiful.
You turn to walk inside but his voice stops you. Refusing to look at him, you pause but stay facing the door.
“He seems like a good kid,” he says quietly and you know he’s referring to Jack.
There’s a million things you can say to him, you can turn around and yell or scream at him. You could ask him why? Why did you push me away when I needed you? Why didn’t you want Jack? What hurt you so bad, that you couldn’t accept him?
Instead, you walk inside your house and close the door behind you.
. . .
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#joel miller x y/n#joel miller imagine#joel miller reader insert#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#allies writing
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One Week to Wow Me
I may add to this later, but feel free to use as a prompt if you want!
Synopsis: Villain makes a surprise confession and Hero makes a surprising offer.
The Hero had been at it long enough that not much surprised them anymore. They’ve seen everything — Villains who helped grandmas across the street they just demolished, villains who bombed pet store company for not stocking the right fish food, villains who really just wanted to use the city as witnesses to their lethal science fair projects.
They have not had a villain confess their love before, though. That was new.
“Say that again?” the hero said. “Sorry, I just wanna make sure I heard you right.”
“Which part did you miss? The I, the love or the you?” The villain asked, wiping blood from their mouth with the back of their hand. “I’m in love with you. Against all odds and my better judgment. Believe me, I would not be like this if I had any choice. But I can’t seem to shake you off.”
In any other situation, such a confession would set off Hero’s bullshit meter. If Hero had the villain on their knees, ready for arrest, or if Hero was chained up in the villain’s lair, ready for torture, such a confession would look as nothing more than a ploy to get under Hero’s defenses.
But tonight their fight had been evenly matched — annoyingly so. Hero was no closer to getting them arrested as they were for incapacitating Hero themselves. So advantage was gained from this, save for pausing a battle neither of them were close to winning anyway.
“Why are you telling me this?” Hero asked. They kept their arms loose at their sides, but balanced on the balls of their feet. Ready.
The Villain shrugged. “I couldn’t hold it in anymore. It feels good to get it out.”
“And you want me to be with you?”
“ . . . .That would be ideal, yes.” they said with a lilt of irony.
The Hero considered them. Weighed options. Tried to predict all the horrible ways this could go. And then threw all caution to the wind.
“Okay,” they said.
The villain’s head tilted, slowly. Dangerously.
“Okay?” they repeated, stunned.
“Yeah, which part did you miss? The O or the kay?”
“You’re going to date me?”
The look of sheer disbelief on the villain’s face would be hilarious if it wasn’t so heart-breaking.
“You have a month,” the hero clarified. “To woo me, to wow me. To make this insane idea worth my while.” They jabbed a finger at the villain. “And you can’t pull any of your shit during it either. I’m not dating you and fighting you at the same time . . .as appealing as that thought can be.”
The villain swallowed. The Hero had never seen them so scared before. The villain’s face stayed their usual stoic mask, but their eyes leaked fear.
“What’s the catch?”
“Catch? That’s your forte, not mine, Counselor.”
“There has to be some kind of parameters around this.”
Hero grinned. “You evil lawyers do love your rules, don’t you?”
The Villain looked a little pained.
“Well here’s a rule then — I hate seafood.”
“That’s not a rule, that’s a preference.”
The Hero rolled their eyes. “Okay, okay. Don’t take me to any seafood restaurants. There’s your rule -- happy?”
The Villain stepped closer to them, until they were close enough for their hand to reach out and skate a knuckle down the hero’s jawline.
“You have no idea.”
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Hi! :)feel free to decline this if it’s not up your ally or you don’t really have anything else to say about it but, I was very interested when you mentioned law having anxiety about if the amber lead disease would be passed down to his kid, so I was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little offshoot of that (hcs/short fic/whatever format you want) about law and his partner trying to ease each other’s anxieties about it and just how he’d handle it in the long term plus maybe if it wasn’t able to be told if they had it or not before it was born seeing Law finally get to see the kid and his reaction him it having/not having it (it’s up to you what kind of route you’d want to take with that) but anyways it’s just a suggestion because I was really interested once you brought the idea up of how Law would handle something he’s probably tried to block out of his mind since he was young
The post that anon is talking about for reference
Guess what Anon? This is literally the best ask I’ve ever gotten because I think about it ALL the time and all the possible outcomes of that one little thing and I will literally never shut up about it. So here’s some fun* ideas on how I think Law would respond to bringing a child into the world.
*these are not fun they're so angsty it's not even funny
Transmission
Characters: female reader x Law
Word Count: 1k
CW: talk of abortion, talk about loss of pregnancy, talk of fatal diseases, lots of pregnancy angst, (happy ending though if that makes up for it!)
He runs a scan and finds out he has a lot to worry about. You can see the panic on his face and you know your fear was not misplaced. You’re pregnant.
His shoulders suddenly feel so heavy. Like a weight he is forced to carry, no matter how many times he tries to cast it aside.
He doesn’t tell you about the burden. Not yet. You all talk through your options together, and you consider them heavily. You weigh the pros and cons of each option for days, but he doesn’t ever try to sway you one way or another.
In fact, he becomes very distant. He locks himself away in the study, turning through a new book everyday. You can enter his study whenever you wish, but he barely acknowledges your entrance.
One day you’re talking about it with him, trying to decide what to do. It had only been about a week and a half since you found out, and Law’s cold shoulder has impacted you a bit. “What do you want to do?” you ask him.
He doesn’t respond. His nose is buried in a book, and you realize he hasn’t been listening the entire time. You suddenly burst into tears, upset with him and his coldness to you recently. “Just get it out,” you cry, punching at your stomach with your fists. “Get it out of me so we can get back to normal again.”
He looks up, surprised by your sudden outburst. “Hey, Y/N-ya! Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” He jumps up and grabs your wrists to keep you from harming yourself further.
“I’m tired of being alone!” you cry out, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t even look at me anymore! I just want things to be normal again.”
He’s staring at you, unsure of what to do or how to respond. He guides you over to a chair, still holding your wrists, and sits you down in it. He sits across from you. “I need to tell you a story,” he whispers, and he has your full attention.
He tells you the story of Flevance, and of the Amber Lead Disease he inherited. How his entire city disappeared in a matter of years. How there was no cure. How he was the only survivor.
You had known a piece of that story. Law had told you about Corazon and that he had helped secure the Op-Op fruit for Law to find a cure for his disease. But you hadn’t known the rest of the tragedy.
“I’m scared,” he admits, his voice quivering. “Amber Lead Disease is passed down from generation to generation, and shortens the lifespan each time it’s passed on. My sister got sick when she was six. I was supposed to die before I was fourteen.”
“But you got better. You’re okay now,” you reassured him. But you could feel the panic growing inside of you now too. Of course he didn’t want to talk about a child with this kind of trauma weighing on his mind.
“It doesn’t mean that the symptoms are gone. Each generation, the life expectancies go down at least ten years. What if…” he hesitates, and you can feel his grip around your wrists tighten as he squeezes his eyes shut. “What if our child dies before it’s even born?”
You can feel his pain and his sorrow emitting from him. You lean forward and wrap him in a hug, holding him tight. You can hear him choke back a sob, and you allow yourself to cry too. Both of you just hold each other, letting all of your fear and anger and sorrow wash away with your tears.
Both of you start to calm down after a very long cry. “I want to keep it,” you say finally. “I want to try.”
You feel Law nod, and his body relaxes just a minuscule amount. At least he won’t be alone this time. At least he’s cured it before.
During the pregnancy, he’s more stressed than you. It’s a weird relationship having Law as both your boyfriend and your doctor, and sometimes you have to remind him which hat he’s wearing.
He’s always giving you vitamin supplements in the morning and making sure your diet is perfectly balanced. Sometimes you go to eat something and he starts with “as a pregnant woman, you shouldn’t-” but a quick glare will usually quiet him down.
You have checkups and he runs scans on your body at least once a week. There are nights he can’t sleep, his mind riddled with what if’s, and he has to do a quick scan just to make sure you and baby are still okay. He breathes a sigh of relief each time your scan comes back clean, but he doesn’t let himself get too comfortable.
Both of you have your days. Some days you’re over the moon, others you feel like your lives are ending. It’s a hard middle to find. Both of you typically stick to the extremes and manage to mellow each other out while also validating each other's fears.
He cries when he finds out it’s a girl.
He cries even harder when you offer up a name. Cora.
His devil fruit ability makes the childbirth thing insanely easy. The “pain of childbirth” was a foreign concept to you for the most part.
He counts Cora’s fingers and toes, and then counts them again. 10 fingers, 10 toes. She’s perfect. Just looking at her, Law already knows he would die for her.
He wraps his sweet baby girl up in a blanket and passes her off to you. He brushes your hair and kisses your face while you hold her. He’s resisting the urge to run every scan he can think of. You were adamant that the three of you needed a few minutes together as a family before he went full doctor on you both.
Finally you hand Cora off to him. “Go ahead, I know it’s driving you crazy.” He scans her, and finds her completely healthy. No Amber Lead Disease, no sickness, not even a slightly abnormal temperature. Law holds Cora close to his heart and he weeps. For his family, for himself, and for the new generation that’s finally free.
#this is the best possible outcome#i will not pain you all with the other possibilities because law has been hurt ENOUGH#one piece#one piece imagine#one piece scenario#one piece x reader#trafalgar law#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law x y/n#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#law x y/n#cozage#✧˚law✧˚
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Hiii, I love your work!
Could I request something like prompt 96 (“You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?”) and expanding on Jonathan being very excited about the reader being his patient at the asylum 😳
Thank you!
Okay, so what I imagine happened here was that Jonathan managed to get her committed to the asylum after the whole ‘helping Edward escape and keeping him in her apartment and also stealing medical records’. Does it make sense that she’d be committed? Not really, but this is also Gotham and he’s also very persuasive (see: Batman Begins). This backstory doesn’t matter but I like to have it. Tbh might have to expand this bc I’m obsessed with this (not me thinking about writing an AU of my own gd fic)
Warnings: dubcon, obvious power imbalance, restraints, possessive behavior, a solid mature rating. minimal proofreading.
stbotdi anniversary special
Jonathan watched from outside of the cell, his face carefully composed and expressionless as he looked through the small window into the derelict room. Any passing nurse or orderly would think he was just observing the patient inside, doing his duty before deciding on her treatment. After all, her transition into the asylum had been shaky and he was her doctor. Not that any nurses or orderelies would be passing by her room, anyway.
Bracing himself, he entered the cell.
At the slow metal creak of the door opening, her head lifted up off the bed, taking in his appearance for a second before her expression twisted into a snarl, her teeth bared.
“Get me out of here.” She was carefully still now, though he knew her mind was almost entirely preoccupied with the restraints on her wrists and ankles keeping her virtually immobile. But she was being a good girl, staying still and trying to show that she could be trusted enough to be untied. He sighed her name, looking down towards the thin folder he had clasped in his arms which was labeled with her name and patient number.
“You committed some pretty heinous crimes-”
“Heinous, my ass.” She spat, dropping her head back on the flat mattress with a dull thud. “You know I don’t belong here, Jon-”
“Dr. Crane.”
“Fuck you.”
She’s lashing out like a fox with its foot caught in a trap.
Jonathan blinked once at her, letting silence fall over the tiny cell again until the only sound was the slight hissing from the rusty pipes that ran along the ceiling. With his eyes, he traced the lines of the pipes around the room, his head tilted back so he wasn’t looking at her when he spoke. A perfected imitation of distraction, one that worked all too well on her.
“You look a bit tied up right now, I’ll come back later-” He turned, lingering at the door handle and counting down the seconds until-
“Wait!” He looked back over her shoulder at her, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of completely turning around. She was struggling against her restraints again. He preened at the fact that even though she hated him- but only in that moment, she’d come back around to her infatuation- she was desperate to keep him in the room with her. Afraid of being alone. “Can you-” She fell back against the bed, exhausted. The sedative they’d administered upon her arrival must still be in her system, though it was clearly working its way out if her earlier viciousness was anything to go by. “Can you at least untie me?”
She’d put an affectation over her voice, something she’d used a few times when they’d been intimate before. Pitiful, pouting, pleading. Jonathan weighed his choices carefully, torn between the trust he would gain by releasing her with the control he would maintain by keeping her tied up.
But then again, he had her here indefinitely. He had plenty of time to try both options, and more. No one wanted to be the one to defend the girl who helped the Riddler escape. Not even the Batman was coming to save her from the shackles she’d forged herself.
Deciding then and there, he spun around.
Jonathan could practically feel her sigh of relief as he sat at the edge of her bed, placing her file on the floor next to it, even though she was pointedly not looking at him. He reached down to her leg, running his hand down her bare calf. He could feel her shiver beneath his touch, though she was barely acknowledging his presence.
He fiddled with the ankle restraint, moving his eyes from the leather strap up her body. She was staring at him now, her chest rising and falling steadily like she was carefully regulating her breath. Deftly, he undid the restraint before he could change his mind. But instead of letting her leg go, he kept it in his hand. He brought her ankle to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the tender skin before finally placing it onto the bed.
Turning his attention to the other restraint, he repeated the process. Caressing her leg, undoing her binding, bending to place a kiss on her skin. She watched, the entire time, lips parted.
He shifted, moving so he lay halfway on top of her, slotting one of his legs between hers.
“What about my arms?” She said, once his face was close enough to hers that she could get away with whispering.
“I think I’ll leave them bound.” Jonathan whispered back, watching as her face turned from confusion to dread. “I thought about this months ago, before I even took you home that first time. Locking you away, where only I could get to you.” He brushed a stray lock of her hair away from her sweaty face, her eyes bewildered as she looked up at him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, to the tip of her nose, to the corner of her lips.
His hand moved down her body, briefly lingering on her breast before venturing to the hem of the hospital gown they had her wearing. He much preferred the gown on her than Arkham’s typical uniform, especially since it made it so easy to slip his hand underneath and find her clothed cunt, already damp from her arousal.
Her legs, no longer bound, fell apart at his touch. Jonathan pushed the fabric of her underwear aside, exposing her wet folds to his touch. She gasped, a loud inhale, when he finally ran his fingers over her with no barriers to soften his touch.
“Jon-” She stopped speaking at the sharp look he gave her, quickly correcting herself. “Dr. Crane.”
He wondered if she could feel his hard length pressing against her thigh, if she could feel the way it twitched when she called him by his earned title.
“Fuck me, please.”
Oh, he was glad to oblige her request.
And he was even more glad that she had been put at the end of a seldom-used hallway in the asylum, so that when he fucked her so that the bed creaked against the screws it was secured to the floor with, that when her gasps became shouts, that when his possessive whispers turned into low growls, no one would be around to hear it.
#this could have been much longer but I'm stopping myself from writing too much so I can do a lot of these#but this one was fun :3#i take ur ideas and i run away with them until i realize maybe that isnt what you meant lmao#jonathan crane x reader#jonathan crane#scarecrow x reader#my fic
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yo hey hi i like hearing ur thoughts, they’re an interesting perspective. anyways i’m coming to u today because i genuinely have no idea who else to ask 😭😭😭 no need to reply either, i’ll work it out eventually but you seem more experienced and maybe you might know something about this?? anyways for a whole decade or so i thought (the symptoms of) psychosis were a normal thing that everyone experienced, and then i was a bit too honest with my mother and found out that no, it wasn’t, apparently? she wants me to talk to a psychiatrist and try to see if i can get on meds for that, but i’m not sure i should. like, generally i guess it interrupts my life, but it’s not THAT big of a deal to me?? like the memory issues that come with it really suck and does tend to affect a lot of my life, and it sucks not really being able to trust the memories i do have, but the other stuff i think i can handle just fine. like the hallucinations usually only affect me for a little and then i can focus (although sometimes they appear while driving which is frightening, but still, it’s brief and i doubt i’d crash). anyways i’m troubled about this because i hear that antipsychotic medication tends to have especially negative side effects. like i’m willing to take them if they can definitely fix my memory problems but it sounds like it’s just not worth it?? especially weighing the pros and cons, im just not sure i should do it. idk,, what do you think? or is there a third option here. maybe i should just look into a lobotomy
i'm not sure exactly what all your symptoms are but there are different psychotic disorders and some can be more manageable than others depending on the severity of the psychosis. mine is based more in a 'delusional' thought process. therapists believe I hallucinate but I think it's just a combination of dissociation and hyperphantasia (vivid mental imagery).
driving is an issue for some psychotic people because of distracting hallucinations and it can still be dangerous so you should probably talk to a doctor and see what your options are.
knowing beforehand that side effects of antipsychotics can be negative helps because you can ease into things but I want to clarify that most people on antipsychotics do not end up with the level of neurological damage I have. this was a result of being severely overmedicated on them as a minor and it would not have happened if I had autonomy in treatment and knew what to expect. there are plenty of people who stay on *normal* doses of antipsychotics and are fine with it. it really depends on whether you have a better quality of life on or off them. i'm lucky that my family can support me but they still would prefer I be on antipsychotics.
good luck and don't be afraid to advocate for yourself <3
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