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#as disappointed as i was there was a part of me that just
imaginaryf1shots · 2 days
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Forced | Charles Leclerc ver.
WC: 16.2K (It started as a 5K word and then I said okay 10K and things went from there)
Charles x reader
Summery: Being threatened and forced into a marriage wasn’t on your mind when you got invited to dinner by your parents.
Warnings: Cursing, forced marriage, bad parents, alcoholic parent, bad childhood, brief suicidal thoughts, half edited. tell me if I missed anything.
A.N: If you’ve read this before, no you haven’t I tried to save it to my drafts while I was at my part time job, and it showed network familiar fast-forward 2 hours and I don’t find it in my drafts, but I see it posted, It wasn’t all uploaded yet.
A/N2: If there has been a one shot I was nervous about positing, it’s this one. So many ups and downs, at one moment I thought about scrapping it but this idea has been in my mind for so long. I feel like I could’ve added so much and I have to remind myself this is a one shot and not a multiple parts series. CARLOS ver. IS COMING, not this week but I’ll start it once I have an outline.(send me ideas if you have any)
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In the heart of Monaco, where all the rich, glitz and glamorous people live, the sun dips below the horizon casting a golden hue over the famous skyline of Monaco. The city is intertwined with the rich sport of Formula One. Many of the world's richest people live there, and so does your family. The famous Italian Morelli family, the rich of the rich. Generational wealth, very old money.
The family has been close with the Ferrari family for decades, and so Morelli has invested in the company very early on and has been receiving the benefits for years now. All of the children of the Morelli are born loving everything about cars and racing cars. However the new generation, not so much, they're straying from the driving and going into different ventures, trying different things. Yourself included, maybe when you were young but as you got older you never found yourself interested in cars or any of Ferraris teams in any motorsport, the last time you were at a race was when you were 10 and your parents had to force you to go, after that your older brothers stopped going so you said why can't I stay like them and that was that.
You defied your parents when you went to your choice of university, if it wasn't for you grandfather they would've cut you off, and so you went to art school and graduated with honours, but your parents still weren't there. Your grandfather passed away a few months later making your dad the head of the family.
Since then you've stayed in Italy after going and finishing university there, just the thought about going back to Monaco was out of the question, you have only stayed there during breaks from boarding school in Switzerland, both never feeling like home to you.
However here you are on a plane to Monaco for a mandatory family gathering, apparently something big is happening. the Youngest daughter to the family, the polite and elegant girl of the family, the least disappointment to your parents.
Your father had a driver waiting for you at the airport, not bothering to come himself even though it's been a couple of years since you saw him. Nothing has changed.
Getting ‘home’ yet again no one greeted you at the door but the maid who took your bag to your bedroom, you sighed and walked into the house looking for any sign of your family. You didn’t have to look for long, you found your mother on the balcony nursing a glass of some alcoholic drink, it was just a little after noon, a sight that you’re used to since you were young, your mum always being borderline alcoholic. Your guess is that she turned to the drinks to cope with living with your father, whom she chose to stay with for the glitz and the glamour of being a Morelli.
”Mother.” You greeted her, her head snapped to look at you, some of the liquid spilling as she placed her drink down and stood up, coming up to you with very wide arms pulling you in for a hug, your arms lay limp by your side for a moment before you returned the hug with one arm.
”Oh my baby, I didn’t know when you’d be in.” She said and pulled back to look at you.
”I sent you the details.” You mutter and she waves her hand waving you off.
”Come, come sit down, want a drink?” she asked, walking over to the drinks set on the side, you grimace and shake your head.
”No thanks, it’s a bit early for me.” You sit down across from her and look at the view, the view from the penthouse overlooking the pier, as much as you don't like Monaco the views there are breathtaking. “Where’s father?”
”He’s in a meeting.” She mutters and sips from her drink.
”It’s the weekend.” You reply but she just shrugs, unless he changed, your father never had work on the weekends, he hated them, he hated working anyways so for him to do so is something out of character.
”Your brothers just went out, sadly they didn’t come with any of their children.” Your mum pouted and you rolled your eyes, your mum is so out of touch with everything regarding her family, or anything in general, she acts so oblivious to the dynamic of the family, how all of her children live in other countries have their businesses and don’t want to be associated with the family name, the name she fought so hard to have.
”Okay, well, I’m going to my room to change.” You say and walk off leaving your mum on the balcony, texting your brothers in the group chat that you arrived, you laid down on your bed and scrolled through social media to pass time, you didn’t want to be here at all.
Once your brothers came, they made it to your room, the eldest taking the spot beside you on the bed and the second taking the sofa. It’s been a couple months since you saw them, but they’ve been texting you every now and then. The eldest, Matteo, is 8 years older than you, the second, Marco, is 6 years older, and you’re all at the age now where this difference isn’t that big.
You’ve all lounged around, your laughter ringing in the otherwise silent house. When the sun sat down you were called by the maids for the anticipated dinner. Hopefully everything will go smoothly and you'll be out of Monaco by tomorrow night. When you got to the dining room your father still wasn’t present, but you each took your place at the dinner table, with your mum at the head of the table across from your father’s empty seat and your brother’s each taking a side to your father and you between the oldest and your mum. It didn’t take long before your father arrived, he didn’t bother with pleasantries or hellos, he just took his place at the head of the table and food was served. You all ate in silence only the sound of the silverware hitting the plates is heard, something your mum tried not to grimace at each time.
“So��� why are we here?” Matteo asked when the silence stretched for a bit too long for his liking, and he as did everyone minus your father wanted to escape this dinner.
”I have something that I wanted to talk to y/n about and I thought it’s best if you’re all present, as it’ll affect everyone.” Your father said, placing his knife and fork down, he took a sip from his wine glass and ran his eyes over the three of you like a predator, no ounce of love in him, you held your breath in curiosity and dread as the air hummed with anticipation, whatever is about to come can't be good. “As you know, our family has ties with the world of cars and motorsports, and Formula 1 has been a cornerstone of our family’s legacy for decades.”
”Not this again.” Marco mutters and your father gives him a warning look that has Marco clenching his jaw but saying nothing.
”In recent years, and since you three refused to have any hand in the family business or racing of any kind, our influence has waned, our presence diminished.” Your father continued, his voice carrying over the silence with determination, he speaks like you're in mediaeval times Matteo rolls his eyes. Dread fell onto you, you had no idea where this is going since it has to do with you. “I believe it’s time for us to take action.” His gaze sweeping across the room. “To reclaim our rightful place among the elite of Formula 1.” His eyes fall onto you and you forget to breathe, Matteo looking from you to your father. “I just came from a meeting with a Ferrari representative and we’ve come to a conclusion, y/n, we’ve arranged for you to marry Charles Leclerc.” Your fork clatters ringing in the air, your siblings and you are in shock. “This union will restore our family’s honour and secure our place at the top of motorsports history once more.”
As the implication of the head of the Morelli family proposal, no not proposal, fact, words, order, yes his order sank in, a palpable tension hung in the air, uncertainty and apprehension heavy.
And then your brothers were shouting, waving their hands, rage filled them. As for you? You felt betrayal, this is a death sentence to all your aspirations and dreams. Your eyes filled with tears, your throat closing in on you, your eyes fell to your plate and hadn’t moved. You have no idea who Charles even is, you have no idea who any of the Formula 1 drivers are at the moment, you haven't been in that sphere in so long.
”Come one, y/n, we’re leaving.” Matteo says and pulls you up, you stand up emotionlessly, your father still silent as he watched, you followed Matteo when your father spoke just as you were about to leave the room.
”If you don’t agree, then you can all kiss your futures goodbye.” Your father said and he dapped at his mouth with the napkin before he placed it on the table, that stopped you in your tracks along with Matteo and Marco stopped his shouting. closing your eyes, you let go of Matteo’s hand, of course it wouldn’t be that easy, your father wouldn’t just tell you and let you refuse, he had another thing up his sleeve.
”What are you talking about?” Marco asked his glare speaking for itself.
”I mean that, if your sister refuses or if any of you say anything or try to stop this marriage, you Marco will find that your company is suddenly without business and thus you’ll go bankrupt and you have two girls at home and a wife to take care of, and you Matteo, your stocks will plummet and you won’t be able to find a job as long as I live, all your inheritance gone and no trust fund to rely on anymore.” Cruel, he’s so cruel, how can he be your flesh and blood, how can you be related to this man? He’d basically kick you all to the street and his grandchildren as well, he has no heart that’s for certain.
”You can’t do that.” Matteo said but his voice was weaker, he knows his father is capable of doing this and much worse.
”Oh but I can.” Your father said with a smirk, his eyes settling on you once again. “So what will you do, y/n, would you let your brothers go bankrupt leaving them and their families with no money or future? Could you have this on your conscience?”
”This wouldn’t be on hers, it’s you, you’re doing this, don’t act like an innocent by standard when you orchestrated this, this scheme.”
”You know what? go at it, do the best you can, we’re not letting y/n marry someone she doesn’t even know, who the heck is Charles Leclerc anyways, I swear to god father if you make her do this I’ll-“
”I’ll do it.” You said and all eyes snapped to you, a tear left your eye before you whipped it away not letting another one leave your eyes.
”Wh-what?” Marco asked confused by your words.
”I’ll do it, but you have to write everything down, make a contract, that if I go through with it, you’ll leave them alone, the inheritance, the trust fund, everything.”
“No, no, y/n, what are you doing?” Matteo asked shaking his head, he doesn’t like this, he doesn’t want you to do this, his baby sister.
”I’m doing the only thing I can to keep you and your family safe.” You say to his, your eyes leaving your father’s to look at him. ”You just had a baby girl, and Marco, you’re about to have a boy, I can’t let this affect you.” You say to your brothers, Marco falls in his chair in disbelief. “Do we have a deal?”
”We sure do.” Your father says with a wicked grin on his face.
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Earlier that day in Monaco, Charles was on his way to what he assumed was a friendly meeting with some of Ferrari’s officials. His mind was somewhere else, he was thinking about the upcoming race, race strategies, how to secure a spot on the podium, he’s reached a point where he just wants to stand on the podium not win, just be in the top 3. He’s been struggling with the team the whole season and his personal life took a turn since the middle of the last season, it seemed to him that everything is taking a horrible turn. Little did Charles know that what’s about to come is so much worse.
As Charles enters the office, he’s met with a Ferrari executive whose name eluded him at the moment and a man he never met before, but a sense of unease crept over the monegasque man as he took in the seriousness of the situation.
”Charles,” Greeted, the man he didn't know, Charles shook his hand ever the polite man. “I’m Antonio Morelli.”
Charles recognized the name instantly, he knew the history of Ferrari and their ties with the establishment of Ferrari. “Mr. Morelli, it’s lovely to meet you.”
After they finished the introduction and sat down, Antonio sitting across from Charles started speaking. “Charles, this meeting has been set up because we need to talk.”
Confusion flickered across Charles’s features, his brow furrowing in apprehension, he had no idea what Antonio Morelli could ever want with him.
“Of course, about what?”
”It’s about your future and the future of Ferrari.” His heart sank at Antonio's words, this conversation is about to change the trajectory of his life. “As you’re well aware, your recent… actions shall we say, have caused considerable damage to your reputation and more importantly the reputation of Ferrari and the team’s standing in Formula 1.” A wave of irritation surged through Charles at the implication of Antonio’s words, but he had to bite back his tongue and stop the retort that threatened to spill from his lips. He knows this is not the time to argue, and it would only serve to worsen the situation further. “In light of these circumstances, and to save your reputation and your career.” Antonio held eye contact with the driver, his tone cold and unwavering. “I’m afraid I have no choice but to present you with an ultimatum, and you can choose whichever you like, it’s up to you.” Charles’s heart skipped a beat as he braced himself for the oncoming crash, he knew that whatever was in store for him wasn’t good. “You’ll marry y/n Morelli.” He stated as if he wasn’t just offering his daughter up to a man he didn’t know, yes he knows who he is but this is his first time meeting Charles. “Or you will find yourself without a seat in Ferrari and with no future in Formula 1.”
Silence filled the room as it seemed to spin for Charles, his mind is struggling to grasp what was just told to him, it felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him leaving him without air and leaving him reeling with disbelief.
”I uh- but I…” Charles stammered struggling to come up with something to say as his voice is barely a whisper.
”There are no buts, Charles.” Antonio heard him loud and clear, his voice cutting through the turmoil going through Charles and reaching him. “This is your only option to keep your seat, your only chance to salvage and save your seat and career in Formula 1.”
Charles thought about all he went through to reach where he is now, racing in Formula 1 was his lifelong dream and he achieved it, but he hasn’t won a championship yet, he still has so much to achieve, so much to do.
“This isn't just about you Charles, this is about Ferrari as well, its about the fans and how they view you as il predestinato.” The executive said and Charles felt a surge of resentment rise within him, his fists clenching at his sides. How dare they blame him for all their problems? How dare they use him as a scapegoat for their own failings? He knows it's not just about him, it's to distract the fans from the failed car, the tractor he and Carlos are made to drive every week.
But as he met the unwavering gaze of Antonio and the executive, Charles realised that there was no escaping the reality of this ‘predicament’. He was trapped, caught in a web of deceit and manipulation and it looked like there was no escape for him.
With a heavy sigh and his head bowed, and broken spirit he nods his head in acceptance, knowing that he had no choice but to accept. No matter how much it went against everything he believed in, he had to agree, his sense of pride taking a hit. And as he left the room, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his newfound burden, Charles could only wonder what awaited him on the other side of the impossible choice that lay before him.
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Matteo and Marco both took your bag and booked you a hotel room. You had set your mind to the marriage and weren't backing down as long as your father was threatening your brothers, the only family, you count, that you have left.
It took a lot for you to make them stay back when your father called you to tell you to come home to sign the contract and to tell you what the next steps will be like. You get there and the maid greets you as usual, taking your coat, before you make your way to the office. There's a meeting table with 6 chairs placed to the side in the office, used when your father has business meetings at home, so not so often.
You place your bag on the table and sit down, your father soon walks in with a man following him. It turns out to be the lawyer, they sit across from you.
“As we've talked there's two contracts, one for the marriage, you'll share with Charles and the other for your conditions. You can start with that one.” The lawyer stated and you start reading, it takes a while as you focus on every word not wanting to miss a thing. You do find yourself getting emotional as you read, this is all becoming so real, it's actually happening. It takes a lot for you not to show the tornado of emotions swirling inside of you.
“Where do I sign?” You ask meekly and the lawyer points you to where you have to. You sign all the lines and hand him the contract.
“Okay the next one.”
“I need to go to the bathroom.” You mutter and stand up.
“Let's take a break.” Your father excuses you and you head out to the bathroom furthest from the office to hide in there as you're trying to fight the tears. You're literally signing your life away, tying yourself to a man you've never met before. Closing the bathroom door behind you, you splash some cold water onto your face to calm your racing heart. But seeing how weak you look, makes you want to cry more. A few tears manage to slip down your cheeks but you pat them away, trying not to ruin your makeup. Don’t let him see how much this is affecting you, you can’t.
Charles makes it to the address sent to him, he's led to a penthouse so big and fancy it surprised him even though he's been in many expensive houses. You can tell this is owned by a billionaire, everything is a step above all the other places he's been in, yet it looked cold, unloved and un-lived in. Charles couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him, he had greed to this, this arranged marriage out of desperation to keep his career, to keep his name out of the public’s mouths, however the idea of entering a marriage with a complete stranger left him feeling uneasy. When he makes it to the office, he sees Antonio and the lawyer sitting down, the chairs across from them empty, but there’s a purse on the table. Antonio and the lawyer greet him and point him to the seat across from the lawyer, and just as he sits down, the door he closed behind him is opened, and his future wife walks in. Charles looked up the Morelli family but there weren't pictures of the adult children anywhere, when they were young there’s plenty, some at F1 races even, but after a certain point, he found absolutely nothing. What he found is the parents of the family pictured at parties and lavish ad luxuries events and trips.
Charles looked starstruck when he saw you walk in, he doesn’t know what he expected but you look absolutely nothing like your father, you look elegant, soft and so innocent. He reminds himself that you’ve also agreed to this, that you’re the daughter of the man that’s forcing him, how different can you be from your parents?
You saw him in pictures, you’ve read about him, everything you could get under your hand you’ve read. From his beginning in karting to F1, to the scandals he’s been getting into for the last year or so, how much it had affected him and his sponsors. On track he’s still doing good, the best he can in the car he’s given at least, but off track he’s living the life of a fuckboy, all that after he came out of a long time relationship. To you however he’s just the man that agreed to this marriage, to further his career to get to your family’s money, be connected to Formula 1 forever even, you don’t know but you don’t like him and dread the thought of being tied to him just like your mum is to your dad.
With heavy steps you make your way to your seat next to Charles and sit down, you refuse to look at Charles, but he kept glancing at you taking you in, your father had a smirk on his face that just irritated you to no end.
”Okay, let’s go over the key points in the contract together before you both can take it and sign.” The lawyer said. “Charles and y/n, you are both not to be seen in any romantic or intimate position with anyone but each other.” This was mainly for Charles. “The public needs to think that you’re both single for now.” Easy enough you think to yourself. “In a month's time, you’ll start being spotted with each other, but confirm nothing after about 2 months, y/n you’ll be seen at a race.” You already hated this so much. “From there you have to sell that you’re actually in love, we’ll then release a statement saying that you’re in a relationship and things look to be going good. Now, in 9 months you have to get married.”
”That’s not going to be believable, getting married in under a year of knowing each other.” Charles stated wanting to scoff at the stupid plan they had set up, you take the contract and flip through it reading all the conditions the things you have to do.
”And that’s why you’ll say that you’ve known each other for a long time, and you’ve just started dating recently.” Antonio said and gave a challenging look, that shut him up straight away.
“Why do I have to move back to Monaco?” You ask frowning, you hate this country, it may be small but you hate it, you’ve just gotten out of it permanently not even five years ago.
”Because this is where Charles lives-“ You cut your dad off.
”But he can move to Italy, it’s not that far.” Your dad wasn’t happy about you cutting him off but you didn't care, your life is in Italy not in Monaco. “And he races most of the year so he’s not in Monaco most of the time.”
”y/n, Monaco is the home of Formula 1, it wouldn’t make sense to move to Italy, keep your house there if you want and go there from time to time, but you will live in Monaco.” You huff but say nothing else, wanting this hell to end already. You’re both given pens to sign the contracts and before the ink even has time to dry you leave the room, leaving the three men watching after you.
Charles asks himself what he had gotten himself into, to him you sounded like a brat throwing a tantrum, because she couldn’t get the smallest thing she wanted, and now he’s stuck with you. Now your fates are sealed, intertwined. And you’re both losing hope.
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In the next month you don’t see Charles, he was off racing, and you were back in Italy, you’ll postpone your move as much as you can, your life is all in Italy, it’s where you’re living, working, that’s where your friends are.
Both you and Charles were sent booklets with all the information that you may be asked about for the other and you had to memorise it. You took the booklet and never bothered to open it, you weren’t about to make this easy, just because you signed doesn’t mean it’s all smooth sailing from here. Charles however read everything, he wanted to know who you are, he hadn’t gotten the luxury of finding a wiki page or an article about you.
The media and everyone around Charles notice a difference in him, he doesn't go out or sleep around anymore, but he’s also quieter and more reserved than before. Whenever he was asked about his mode or why he’s changed, he’d just deflect the question, change the subject or simply just shrug. Charles did find himself thinking about his future all the time, regret and second thoughts clouded his mind, but it was all too late now.
It was between races when you flew back to Monaco to meet Charles for your first ‘date’. In your time in Monaco you’ve booked a hotel room to stay in, not wanting to see your parents if not needed. You met Charles at the location sent to you by your father, you still don’t have Charles’ number.
It was a small and cosy cafe, where you’re both to sit and eat for an hour or so, there will be a paid photographer (paparazzi) waiting to snap pictures of you both. You arrived first and took a table near the window, but had your back to it, not wanting your face out there straight away. You tapped your fingers on the table as you waited for the Formula 1 driver to arrive. This ‘date’ to many would be a dream, but to you it had kept you up at night, dark circles under your eyes were covered by layers of concealer.
”Uh, hi.” Charles says and takes the seat in front of you, you give him a small fake smile in return.
”Hi.” You greet him back, and then there’s a long stretch of silence, that is so awkward you wanted to kill yourself, what do you say to your future husband that you’re forced to marry on your first ‘date’? Thankfully a waitress comes by and places two menus in front of you, and so you take your time flipping through, Charles has been here many times before, he knows what he’ll order so he takes the time to shamelessly look at you. He does admit that if it weren’t for the whole marriage thing, if he saw you somewhere he’d ask you out, too bad you’re a Morelli that he’s forced to marry. “Do you know what you’ll order?”
”Yeah, do you?”
”Yes.” You both order what you want before falling into silence. Charles clears his throat, searching for something, anything to break the awkward silence.
”So… how was your day?” He asked eventually, cringing slightly at his own words, you blink at him not expecting him to talk to you at all, you hesitate for a moment before you find your voice to respond.
”Fine, thank you.” Your tone is a little guarded, on edge, not trusting Charles, but you decide to play along and return the question. “How was your day?”
”It’s way okay.” And that was the end of it before your food arrived, you eat in silence both glancing at the other from time to time. This is suffocating, it just dawned on you that this will be your life from now on.
”This is awkward, maybe we can, I don't know, try to talk maybe?” You were uncertain and admittedly very awkward, but you have to get over the silence, you hate silence like this, you’re very talkative by nature, the only time you’re silent is when you’re uncomfortable.
”Okay, we have to act like we like each other anyways.” Charles muttered and took a sip from his water. “Did you come from Italy?”
”Yeah, early this morning, you were in Spain right?” You think you’ve seen that they were racing in Spain somewhere online.
”Yes, a couple days ago.” You nod to his words and fall silent again. “Nice weather today.”
You couldn’t help yourself but laugh, nothing is truly funny, but look at you talking about the weather and nonsense, trivial things, the irony of the situation is so funny. Charles smiles as he sees you laughing, he didn’t expect it but it’s his first time seeing you do more than a fake smile, you’re usually stoic, no emotions at all.
“I’m so sorry, it’s just this whole thing is just so…”
”Weird.”
”Yes.”
”Believe me I know.”
This breaks the ice a little, you still talk about trivial things, nothing personal at all, you talk about Italy he tells you about Spain, what countries you both think is better than the other, trivial, not important talk. But talk you did. As an hour came to close, you both paid for your part of the late lunch, Charles didn’t put up a fight when you said you’ll pay half of the food, he felt like you’re not at the point where he can offer to pay.
Walking outside you look up at him and give him one of those small smiles, that to him looked practiced and not genuine.
“I guess, I’ll see you at our next scheduled, uh ‘date’.” You say doing air quotes at the date part.
“Yeah, sure.” You turn to leave before Charles stops you. “Wait, let me get your number, so we don’t have to go through people to schedule something.”
“Great idea.” You mutter and take out your phone and you both exchange numbers. “Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
With that you both went on your own ways, you went to walk around and get to your hotel, the weather is nice after all, and Charles went with him in his car.
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You and Charles went on a few more ‘dates’ each one with more pictures online, no one has figured out who you were yet, something you were forever thankful for.
F1Gossip
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Liked by username5, username320, and 302,582
hear me out! I think charles is over his hoe era, in the last month he’s been seen with the same girl in Monaco, Austria and Hungary. I repeat it’s the same girl.
No one knows who she is but or what she does but could this be Charles new girlfriend?
More comments
username234 honestly good for him
username20 FINALLY!! I was over him with a different girl each week 💃
username083 I wonder who she is
username72 not good enough for charles that’s for sure 🤢
username294 i bet it’s just another girl who he flies around w/ him so he wouldnt have to go out and look for one
username498 come one guys we don’t even know who she is
username903 it’s giving me gold digger vibes
username465 Charles be careful
username983 seriously these comments are not it 🙄
username438 shut up no one asked you
username983 and I don’t remember charles asking for your opinion
username438 stop asking like you know him when you dont
username983 says yyou
username474 I don’t like this 😒
username832 me neither
username094 this is whey drivers dont post their relationships because you people dont even know who the poor girl is and you’re already attacking her
username873 Olivia was better
username384 girl they ended over a year ago get over it
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You’ve seen the photos and you’re impressed with how much you and Charles managed to sell it, one thing you didn't like is the comments, you’re dreading the moment they find out who you were. You and Charles would usually meet up somewhere for half an hour, once you got the okay that the pictures were good you’d both go your separate ways. Now he has his summer break which he’s spending in Monaco, so once more you fly to Monaco to start the next part of the ‘plan’. The soft launch.
Your socials are all private, but soon you’ll have to make them public, another thing you have to change. You made it to Charles yacht in Monaco, he was already there waiting for you.
”Hi.” You greet the Monegasque, with a wave of your hand and a small smile, Charles returns your greeting and helps you get on the yacht. You settle down as Charles gets the yacht out in the water for a good spot. You brought your sketchbook with you, you’ve had a few ideas about some paintings for a gallery you wanted to be part of and inspiration just hit you that morning, so as Charles sailed for a bit you sat at the table and brought up your supplies. You’re the kind of artist that likes to sketch things out before putting them to the canvas.
”What are you drawing?” Charles asks you when he comes in.
”Just a sketch for a painting I want to do.” You say and look up at him to see him handing you a drink. “Thank you.”
”I never saw any of your work before.” Charles stated and you smile taking out your phone, you always love showing off your work. Not many people in your life were interested in art besides those you met in uni so when you find someone you just want to show them.
”I’ll show you.” Charles sits next to you and looks at the phone, and suddenly he’s seeing a side to you that he’s never seen before, your face is bright and the smile on your face is true, this is your passion. you’re explaining to him what each piece is about and what they mean, the colours, the composition, what inspired it. In the next 30 minutes he’s heard more from you than he’s heard in the last month. Charles is smiling at you when you realise you’ve been ranting for a while. “What?”
”I just never seen this side of you before.” He shrugs and you sigh leaning back in your seat, angled slightly to his side.
”We don’t know each other, I only know what I’ve seen online.” You tell him, your smile is long gone, and you find yourself needing to talk to him about the arrangement, you both have never talked about it before.
”You haven’t read the booklet?” He asked confused, he’s read his over and over again.
”Just the first page, it’s all stuff you can find online anyways, besides I bet you mine is just filled with things my parents think they know about me, but aren’t true.” Charles is confused by your words, he’s been under the impression that you wanted this marriage to happen, that this was a part of your plan. It seems to him now that your relationship with your parents is a bit rocky.
“I feel like there's a lot of things we should talk about.” Charles said as he got the feeling that maybe you aren't as welling as he originally thought.
“True, I actually hoped to talk to you.” You said and were Facing Charles fully, he also turned to face you, your knees touching lightly. “Look, I know you that we don't know each other, and that there's things that we both want to do that this marriage wouldn't allow us to do, so I have a proposal.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“I wouldn't mind you being with other girls, we'll be married in a few months and i know I'm not your type, so do whatever you want just keep to discreet.” Charles was dumbfounded by your words, he cant believe that this is what you think of him. He's also a bit irritated. But what can he say, his attractivities haven't been the most private as of late. “But, I'm Keeping my house in Italy and I'll go Monaco if I have to and nothing else.”
“Sounds fair.” Charles said and you put out your hand for a handshake, which he returned. “There's no reason for us not to be friends.”
“True, I mean we're stuck together for life now.” You say and shrug. “We should take some pictures for Instagram.”
You both go out and begin the small photoshoot you had to do. Posing and taking pictures to choose one for Charles to post on his stories.
By the time the Yacht docked the sun was nearly down, Charles got off first and helped get off.
“When are you leaving?” Charles asked as you both walked to the parking lot, you rented a car this time around.
“As soon as I find a plane, I usually don't book my return flight until I'm sure we have everything we need.” You explain and he nods. “Why?”
“Well, you see…” Charles rubbed the back of his head nervously, he didn't want to bring it up but he's been putting it off for so long. “My mum wants to meet you.”
“What? Why?” you're confused why his mum would want to meet you, unless. “She thinks this is real?”
“I couldn't tell her, it would break her heart, she would feel guilty and upset and I can't do that to her believe me I tried but everytime I couldn't.” Charles went on a mini rant, now this a side to him you never saw. You can tell how much he cares and lives his mum, you couldn't say you understand his feeling but just from hearing him you can sort of empathise with him.
“Okay, I'll do it.” You say and he stops from talking and looks at you, with wide eyes.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it means alot to you, I’ll play my part.” You shrug, not thinking much about your choice. “Practice anyway, we haven’t acted as a couple in front of anyone really.”
“Thank you.”
”No worries.”
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The next day, you got dressed and headed to Charles’s house where his family was gathering for an early dinner and a night together, enjoying the time where the three Leclerc boys had nothing to do. When you arrived, you could hear the laughter from inside, making you pause as the nerves came at full force, your hands started to shake and you had to pause before ringing the bell a few times. Taking a deep breath you pressed the bell, and waited. The door opened and you saw Charles, he must’ve been laughing before he opened the door because he had a big smile on that showed his dimples, and they didn’t dim when he saw you. You gave him a nervous smile.
”Hey, come in.” He greeted you and walked in seeing some of his family, this must be the reason behind the smile and the friendliness. Yes Charles has never been rude to you but you wouldn't call him friendly or loving or caring. Neither have you to be honest, so you wouldn’t blame him. You give Charles a quick hug and press your cheek to his in greeting. You put on your diplomatic smile that you had perfected when you were in boarding school, and look at the Leclercs, thankfully it wasn’t the whole family, just the boys and their mother. “Maman, this is y/n, the one I told you about.”
”Ah, y/n it's lovely to meet you.” Pascal comes up and pulls up in for a hug, that you clearly weren’t expecting, your eyes went wide for a bit before you returned the hug. Her smile and hug came in as a relief amidst the lies and the unknown tension between her and Charles.
”It’s lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Leclerc.” You say in perfect french, and pull back to see her grinning face, all your words and smiles felt hollow, meaningless , you know the truth behind all this and it isn’t easy to lie to someone who’s so affected by it.
”Oh please call me Pascal, Charles didn’t tell me you speak French.” Pascal says and pulls you behind her to the living room where the other other Leclerc boys are.(after this point everything is French between the French speakers)
”Must’ve wanted to surprise you.” You say smoothly and smile as you shake hands with Arthur before you do the same to Lorenzo, who seemed reluctant, but you think nothing of it. His brother did sleep around with lots of women recently, and you’re the first one they’ve met in a while as well.
”I wonder what else he didn’t tell me.” Pascal gives Charles a look and he shrugs with a smile, he didn’t know you could speak French, it wasn’t in the booklet, it said you speak Italian, English and German.
“Maman, I just wanted you to find out from her.” Charles says and sits down next to you on the sofa.
”y/n, you’ve come at a good time, I was finishing the food.” Pascal said and went to go to the kitchen before you stopped her.
”Do you need help?” You ask standing to follow her but she refuses your help and tells Arthur to come help her instead. With a groan the youngest follows his mother to the kitchen and you’re left with the oldest two.
”So what exactly do you do, y/n?” Enzo asks, the way he said your name left a bad feeling in you, you looked at Charles and he gave you a nod in reassurance, but it did nothing to ease you at all. You’re in the lion’s den right now.
”I’m an artist.” You say with a polite smile.
”So you don’t work.” He said simply and your smile falls.
”Enzo.”
”What? I’m just getting to know your wife.” Enzo said and you freeze. His tone is sarcastic, your heart sank and your facade dropping. “Oops not yet I guess.”
“Come on, let’s eat.” You’ve only just met Arthur but you've never been grateful for anyone in your life. Enzo leaves the room first and you turn to look at Charles with fire in your eyes.
”You told him.” You hiss glaring at the Ferrari driver.
”Yes, I had to tell someone, and he won’t tell anyone.” Charles defends himself and you roll your eyes. “Your whole family knows.”
”Yes, but you know that, why didn't you tell me?” You huff, not liking how he didn't tell you.
”I just didn’t have the chance.”
”How convenient.” You walk away from Charles and to the dining room, where they were all sitting down, the polite fake smile was back on your face. You sat down in a chair and Charles sat next to you. You were back to playing boyfriend and girlfriend, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of Enzo’s eyes on you. Another thing you’ve noticed is how loving the family is, even Enzo’s anger is justified and comes out from a place of love. Your brothers love you but you weren't raised with love around you and it shows in how people act and interact with each other. You did get to know the family a lot that day, with good food, good wine, and amazing company. But at the end of the night when Pascal made Charles drive you home/hotel since he didn’t drink and you did, you sat in silence as the guilt ate at you slowly, you were looking out the window from Charles’s Ferrari watching the scenery lost in thought.
”I didn’t know you spoke French.” Charles said breaking the silence and bringing you out of your thoughts, you turn to look at him.
”Yeah, I’ve been speaking it since I was young.”
”It’s not in the booklet.” You laugh at his words and little pout he had on his face, looks like someone took reading the booklet to heart.
”Told you it’s not all true, I refused to speak French to my parents after the age of 9.” You told him and he gave you a questioning look filled with curiously, your family dynamic alway puzzling him and leaving him utterly confused. “They always wanted me to do this or that, and at home we always spoke Italian and then suddenly they wanted us to speak French, I learnt it but never spoke it in front of them, I speak six languages fluently, and know the basics of a few more.”
”SIX!” Charles is impressed, he speaks three and that was hard for him, imagine six.
”Yeah.” You chuckle at his surprise and bring out your hands to count them down. “Italian, because I’m Italian, French because Monaco, duh, German because of my school in Switzerland, English is a language everyone just learns, Spanish because I went to a trip to Spain in 8th grade and loved the language and then Dutch cause why not, and it has some similarities to German when it comes to vocabulary.”
“Wow, I’m impressed, and surprised more impressed though.” Charles says and you smile a genuine smile.
”I’m glad to impress, and if you ever need a translator you know who to find.”
Charles came to a stop in front of the hotel, he never asked why you never stay with your family when you’re here but he could only guess. “You know, you don't have to stay at a hotel, every time you're here.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.” You say unbuckling your seatbelt.
”You wouldn’t.”
”I don’t know, maybe you’d have some company, I’m okay here seriously.” Charles sighed and here it is again your thoughts of him.
”I haven’t been with anyone since I’ve signed the contract.”
”Why.”
”Because no matter what, I’m not a cheater.”
”But we’re not in a relationship.” silence
”Have you been with anyone?”
”No, that’s not what i meant, I just mean that you can live your life how you want it.”
”Well, I don’t want to be a cheater we’re getting married in a few months.”
”Well, I’m not with anyone and haven’t been in almost a year.”
”Okay.”
”Okay, see you later Charles.”
”See you.”
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Charles_leclerc
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Liked by Landonorris, Maxverstappen1, your username and 3,380,394 others
No place like Monaco ❤️
More Comments
username93 we saw the last slide charles
username24 Charles in his soft launch era 🔥
username37 does this mean the end to his hoe era for real
username76 I’m going to miss fuckboy Charles
username37 You’ll be missed charles 💔
username83 you all think its the same girl from the paparazzi pictures 🤔
username69 I think so, same hair and everything
Landonorris 👀
Carlossainz55 when did this happen?
username28 lol not even his friends knew
username86 I bet @/pierregasly knows what up
Pierregasly not this time
username08 can’t believe there’s a day where Pierre is as clueless as we are
username90 I bet she’ll be gone in a week or two
username87 Uh who is this?
username48 Charles be careful there’s a gold digger trying to leach of you 🤮🐍
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Charles posted a few more times, without bringing your face in continuing the soft launch part of the ‘plan’. you’ve met his mother another time, and like the first time, seeing her so happy for Charles and being in love with you left you with guilt that kept you up at night. Alas it was time for you to make your appearance at a race, your dad had talk to you on the phone and told you to hurry up, he also tried to arrange for a ‘family dinner’ that you’ve refused over and over again. With that being said you texted Charles and you both agree for you to go to the race in the Netherlands. You’ve arrived separately from Charles in, coming from Italy. Charles’s room was a suite at the hotel, with a big sofa and a king sized bed. Charles arrived a day before you and was already out for media duties for quite some time, you had a work obligation that you couldn’t get out of and you haven’t really tried.
By the time you arrived and were out of the airport and at the hotel it was already getting dark out, you got into Charles’s room with the key he left for you at the reception. The room was clean, you've noticed with his suitcase open on the side, the first thing you did was shower and get into some lounge clothes, it was an oversized set that you wore around the house when you had guests over usually, not the usual boxer shorts and bralette you enjoyed.
Your phone has been going for a good 15 minutes now, making you sigh and go to the balcony to get fresh air with your phone in hand as you willed yourself to pick up. It was night time, and you had only turned the side lamp on in the room, making very faint light come out to the outside. after staring at the screen for what felt like eternity and with a shaky breath, you finally muster the courage to pick up his latest call. Your heart was pounding in your chest.
”y/n, finally, I’ve been calling you for days now.” Your father’s voice rang through the line, it was laced with irritation and anger, all directed towards her, as always leaving her shaky and scared.
”Sorry, father, I’ve been busy.” Your voice is barely over a whisper, a strained silence hung in the air for a moment, your hold on the phone tightened.
”Look, I’ve been patient enough with both you and Charles, but if you keep ignoring me and not doing as I asked, then your brothers will bare the consequences of your action, or none there of.” His tone was serious and unyielding, making you feel like a child once more.
“We will, I promise, tomorrow I’m going to the paddock.” You tell him straight after, and you hate how you want to please him just to get him off your back, the fear in you not lessening with age, he still has a hold over you.
“Good, that’s good.” He hummed and you hear your mother talking next to him for a moment before he’s speaking again. “Your mother is asking when you’ll be over for dinner with Charles.”
”I don’t know, we’re both super busy and-“
”And nothing, you come here as soon as you can, I’ll have none of this busy nonsense.” Your father interrupts his tone firm. “It’s time for the excuses to stop, I’ve been letting you handle how you get it out to the public on your own, but what I say goes.”
”I’ll talk to Charles, we’ll-we’ll figure something out.” You mutter and tears gather in your eyes, you try to fight them but like always when it came to your father they just fall freely. No matter what, you have no choice but to complain with his wishes/demands. For some reason after meeting his family, the thought of Charles seeing yours is leaving you with a sense of dread and despair. soft sobs leave your mouth in waves, you look out at the view, you’re high, the street looks far away, and you wonder, just for a second, if you jump would you die instantly or would you be in pain, is that kind of pain better or worse that the one you’re in. shaking your head away from those thoughts, you turn to go inside.
Unbeknownst to you Charles has made it to the hotel room, just to catch the last of the conversation, and he’s heard you cry. He stood in the bedroom just watching you crumple under the weight of your emotions, a few times he had to stop himself form going to you and pulling you in for a hug.
When he sees you turning to come back inside he makes his way to the door of the room and acts like he just came in.
”Hey.” Charles greets you softly, he couldn’t act happy when he just saw you falling apart.
”Hey.” You put on a brave smile but he could see your wet cheeks and red eyes, your nose red as well. “How was today?”
”It was okay, tiring, but good.” Charles says and his eyes don’t leave your figure as he watched you escaping to the sofa where you practically had your back to him.
”That’s good, I’m tired as well, I think I’ll go to bed now.” You say and pull on the extra covers you found in the closet.
”Now? did you eat?”
“No, but I’m tired and not hungry.”
”Oh, okay, sleep well then.”
”Thanks, you too.”
Charles walks into the bedroom and closes the door lightly, you’re not sleeping and you won't find sleep for a while, your mind is swirling with emotions and thoughts that are hunting you down. You don’t cry but a few tears slip as you try not to think about what tomorrow will hold or all the things you have to do.
The next day, you wake up bright and early, before Charles’s alarm goes off, you don't need to shower since you did the night before, but you slip into the bathroom, and start on your makeup, and get dressed. You know that every single thing about you will be all over social media and criticised and analysed by thousands if not millions of people Charles has over 10 million followers on Instagram after all. When Charles was up, you were just finishing up your hair, the door was open. You heard movement from behind you and looked up through the mirror to see a shirtless half asleep Charles, his sweatpants low on his hips, your hands stopped mid air with your curling iron. You’re just a woman, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wonder, starting with his messy and tousled hair moving to his chest and arms and his abs.
“Morning.” His morning voice made you blink and look away, you had to swallow before you were able to regain your composure and your voice.
“Morning, I’m almost done.” You say and focus on not looking at him and just looking at what you were doing.
”That’s okay.” Charles says and goes to the second sink in the bathroom next to you and starts brushing his teeth, you both were doing your business in silence but your eyes wonder to him every few seconds, his eyes was half closed and he was half asleep still, so for you it was a blessing, being able to look at him as much as you wanted, so you admired him without him seeing.
You’re finished before him and leave the bathroom, it didn’t take long for him to be ready, dressed in his Ferrari team kit and a pair of skinny jeans, you bite your tongue not to comment on it, you’re not close for you to say anything about his choice of clothes.
On the ride to the track, you felt a sense of anticipation and excitement, your eyes looking outside the window taking in the city, after today your life as you know it will change. Every single thing you do will be under the microscope, you felt like a teen again but this time it’s not going to be just your parents watching, it’s going to be thousands of people, all with their opinions that they’re not afraid of saying, online at least.
”It’s going to be okay.” Charles said and you turned to look at him only to find him already looking at you. “You don’t have to be nervous, after we go inside, you can stay in my room if you want.”
”No it’s okay, I can do it.” You tell him with a grateful smile, as far as arranged marriages go, Charles isn’t the worst option, if you met in other circumstances you wouldn’t have gone for him simply for his career choice in F1 but you’re glad it’s not someone worse.
When you make it there and park, Charles gets out first and walks to your side opening the door, all with a smile on his face, he helps you out of the Ferrari and you get out and take your first look around, there’s fans everywhere all screaming and shouting his name. Some of his team are already waiting for him, and when he goes to sign caps and merch, one of the females introduces herself and stands with you. you ask her about her job and make small talk, while you’re waiting. She also gives you your pass that Charles requested and you put it around your neck.
“He’s signing a lot of things.” You observe your ‘boyfriend’ as he’s going from one person to the other.
“Yeah, he’s known for singing anything.” You hum and watch how nice Charles is with everyone. “We usually have to pull him away.”
They did pull him away and inside the paddock you guys went. Charles let you walk a bit behind him, knowing that photos of him will be taken and you’re nervous enough, he didn’t want to make it worse for you. it’s been so long since you’ve been at a race it feels like a life time ago, you forgot the sheer magnitude of the event, the air was alive with the hustle and bustle of people around you, creating an atmosphere that’s charged with excitement, and anticipation. After a long walk you make it to Ferrari’s motorhome, Charles introduces you to a few people who you can stick with when he’s on duty. His hand was on the small of your back when he was leading you through the crowds, but other than that you both weren’t showing any signs of affection at all. That didn’t change the fact that once he was in his race suit and it was hanging but his waist you were looking, it was today that you’ve realised how fit he is, he doesn’t just have a good face but a fit body as well.
Watching FP1 brought back all your memories of when you enjoyed racing, I mean how could you not, you’re a Morelli it’s in your blood. Maybe if your relationship was different with your parents who knows where you’d be today. In effort to distance yourself from your parents you’ve strayed from a lot of things that you enjoyed that they loved or wanted you to do.
Between the practice sessions Charles took you with him to get lunch at the cafeteria, he had to stick to his diet and you choose whatever you wanted. sitting down you’re soon joined by Carlos Sainz, you haven’t met him yet, but you saw him when you were looking up Charles online and his face is everywhere along with all the other drivers.
”Hey mate, you haven’t introduced us.” Carlos said and sat down across from the two of you, Charles was telling you about what to expect during the rest of the day and the next two days before he was cut off by his teammate.
”Carlos meet y/n, y/n meet Carlos.” Charles introduced you and you gave the Spanish driver a smile and offered to shake his hand.
”Hey Carlos.”
“Hello, I didn’t know Charles was bringing anyone with him today.” Carlos said before he started eating.
“Yes, I had work and we weren’t sure if I could make it or not.” Half a lie, you knew you’d be here for a while but you did have work.
“Ah, so what do you do?” Carlos asked and he was expecting to hear a model.
”An artist.” Carlos was surprised and proceeded to ask you about what kind of art, where you studied and about living in Italy. The three if you walked back to the brahe together that’s when Charles informed his teammate that you speak Spanish.
”You know y/n speaks Spanish, she says fluently but I’m not good enough to verify that.” Charles said and you gave him a look that had him laughing.
”You don’t believe me?” You ask him and he shrugs innocently.
"No need to worry, I can verify it for you." Carlos fake comforted his teammate and turned to you. "So where did you learn Spanish?"
"I took online classes when I was in 8th grade." You told him and he was impressed, you laughed at his surprised look, you are fluent and your accent is good. "I went to Spain once and just loved the language."
"Mate, she's fluent." Carlos turned to look at Charles who laughed at the two of you, Carlos then turned and continued talking to you. Charles was needed for something and so he left the two of you talking, Carlos was asking you about where you went in Spain and if you want to go again, he recommended a few places and then he learnt you spoke six languages, and so you were made to talk to him in all of them and his face was priceless, had you laughing. He may not have understood everything but he
knows enough to know you're fluent.
"Charles, where did you find this one?" Carlos joked with Charles when he came back, and that had your smile faltering and for Charles to freeze a bit, if Carlos noticed he said nothing.
“It’s a secret.”
“Fine, have your secrets.”
The rest of the day went by nicely and seamlessly, the Ferrari boys did good, no one was beating Max but they've done good. You haven't checked your phone all day, when you made it back to the hotel, Charles went to shower and you laid on the sofa to scroll through. Your Instagram account has gained over 10K followers, you had pictures of your work more than ones of you, but the secret is out, now everyone knows you. You didn't dare check Twitter; the app always scares you.
You heard the shower turn off, when you got a call from your father you contemplated not answering but knowing this would make it much worse you just picked up.
“Hello.” you say on the phone and close your eyes tight, your head on the pillow.
“What do you think you're doing?” Was the first thing you heard, he was angry very angry at what you have no idea.
“Wh-”
“Shut up I'm not done talking, do you know what you've done, why are there more pictures of you and Carlos than with you and Charles. Do you want to ruin the family reputation, do you not take this seriously?”
“What are you talking about?” Today was good. You had fun today and you've done everything he asked you to do, yes reluctantly and you push it off but you do it nonetheless, you sit up as you get agitated. “I've done EVERYTHING you asked me to do, I was just talking to Carlos, there's nothing to it.”
“Don't you fucking talk back to me young lady, haven't done anything good your whole life, you never listen, tomorrow I better see you and Charles selling this or you'll feel the consequences to your actions.” He hangs up and you throw your phone away, cursing under your breath your body shakes with sobs, your head in your hands. Nothing is ever enough for your father, you're never enough.
Charles sighs and this time he doesn't think about it he sits down beside you and pulls you in for a hug, you let him, your face hiding in his neck. Charles shushes you and holds you, you're clutching his shirt in your fist. Charles has a good heart he
doesn't like seeing people crying and he's come to see you as a friend now, a new friend that he's getting to know. It makes him angry that a father would make their daughter cry this much and wouldn't care, he feels blessed for having his parents and makes him feel bad for you. Your childhood must've not been easy. He whispers words of comfort in French and lets you let it all out, your body is shaking for a while
before you slowly stop, when Charles looks down he sees you sleeping. He moves you slowly not wanting to wake you up and carries you bridal style, and he manages to get you to bed before you begin to stir.
"What?" you say confused.
"Hey, just sleep." Charles says and pushes your hair out of your face, you look around and realise you're in his bed.
“No, this is your bed.” You tell him and try to get up but he stops you.
“Just sleep, it can't be that comfortable on the sofa.” He says and you lay back down.
“But you have work tomorrow.” You mutter and rub your eye, it's a bit sensitive from all the crying you've been doing.
“It's fine, a night on the sofa wouldn't hurt me.” Charles says with a smile but you're stubborn, you’re not about to let a man that drives fast cars for a living sleep on the sofa and wake up with back pains.
“Well the bed is big, we can share.” You say and Charles looks at you, he takes you in, you're half asleep, your eyes puffy and bloodshot with tones of worries and things to think about but here you are wanting to make sure he's okay and comfortable.
“Okay, yeah.” Before Charles could make it to his side of the bed you're already asleep, he lays there and wonders how many times you've cried yourself to sleep, how many sleepless nights you've had, how many times you went though restless days by yourself. He knows you have two brothers, he knows they're kind to you that they're not like your parents, but they're not in your life, it seemed to him that they moved out once they were old enough and forgot about you a little, both with their own lives now.
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The next morning Charles asks you what your father wanted and you didn't really want to tell him at first but he managed to get it out of you.
"Just tell me from now on, we're both in this not just you." Charles tells you as he drives to the circuit.
“But this is your life, and this is your career and I just don't want to be a burden or for you to have to think that you have to be stuck with me all day or something.” You tell him, angling yourself to face him.
“y/n, we're a team, okay, for this to work we have to be always on the same page and I consider you my friend now, so just let me help you where I can and you help me where you can okay?” You smile at his words, a team, you have someone on your team.
“Okay.”
When you make it to the circuit, it's a repeat of the day before, you stand to the side while Charles does his thing and he walks in front of you, but half way through he stops and holds his hand out for you with a smile, you blink a couple of times before you take his hand. When you get to the garage Charles is whisked away for debrief and you're left there, you were looking at his car admiring the Ferrari, when a mechanic sees you and walks over.
"It's beautiful isn't it?" He asks and you look up at him with a smile.
“Yeah, it's been years since I was this close to a Formula 1 car.” You tell him, there's rumours around that you're a Morelli and everyone in Ferrari knows of your family, so it takes him by no surprise that you've been close to one before. “It's so different from the ones in the early 2000s.”
“Much different, we have done a lot of changes, look…” And he begins showing you what has changed, why cars nowadays are faster and stronger, the aerodynamics and mechanical differences, some things go over your head, but you know the basics of a formula 1 car.
When Charles finishes up, he sees you talking with the mechanic. He's leaning over the halo as he's showing you something, Charles smiles and walks over.
“Do you want to get in?” Charles asks and you turn to look at him startled, and excited, giddy even.
“Can I?” You ask with a grin and he nods, one of the PR crew takes out his phone to video this while another takes pictures, you're a Morelli and you're getting into the car and Charles is now back in a committed relationship so he's back in his good boy era, all things that made them want to document this happening.
“Place your foot here.” Charles says and points to a spot, you do as he says and he holds on to your waist as you wobble a little before you push yourself up and over the halo, he removes the steering wheel before you sit down and watches you as you get comfortable in his car. His smile is big on his face as you get excited.
“This is amazing.” You say and Charles puts back the steering wheel. You put your hands on the wheel. “So many buttons.”
“Can you reach the paddle?” Charles asked amused, he can tell that the seat is a bit big for you, you wiggle your leg and shake your head no.
“You should be thankful I'm shorter or I would've taken your seat.” You tease him and a few people laugh.
“You like the view from the car?” Charles asks and you nod looking up at him, he's leaning over the halo to look at you.
“Yeah, last time I was inside one I was like 6 or 7.” You tell him and he hums to himself, always finding something new about you, you were right about the fact that the booklet had many wrong things, it missed a lot as well.
At one point in the day Fred came over to say hello to you, he like everyone found out who you were.
“Ms. Morelli, it's nice to meet you.” You shake his hand and smile at the team principal.
“Please call me y/n, it's nice to meet you too.”
“It's been a while since we saw one of the Morelli's in the paddock.” Fred said and you felt Charles move a bit beside you. “haven't seen your father as well.”
“Yeah, well me and my siblings went to school and then uni and just were so busy.” You say and don't mention your father, he has a lot of influence in Ferrari. Charles has a hand on your back in comfort, it seems that after yesterday he's taken the role of comforting you, there's something that has definitely changed in your relationship, you've grown closer and you feel comfortable around each other.
“Yes of course, who knew it'll be Charles that'll bring you back.” He commented and you looked at Charles and smiled, he returned the smile with one of his own. You both knew the truth behind everything and it was killing you both to have to be lying to everyone like that, but why is it getting easier, why is it that since you've grown closer and find more about the other that it's not necessarily all lies.
The rest of the weekend went along great, you met a lot of people and as expected your name and your family's relation to Ferrari was everywhere. Those calling you a gold-digger have now turned to calling you attention seeker. You did post pictures of you to Instagram and the Ferrari team posted the video of you getting in the car, and somehow they found pictures of you in an F1 car from the 2000s, you've never seen that picture before but here it was. Charles texted you saying how you've been in a Ferrari way earlier than him, making you laugh imagining him pouting a little at the thought. After that weekend you've been texting more, talking more and just discovering everything about the other.
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A day before Charles has to fly to Monza you've both in Monaco for the 'family dinner' you've been dreading so much. You've made it to Charles's house to meet there before you head 'home'. Charles was in his bedroom finishing getting ready and you were on the sofa scrolling through your social media and texting your brothers to see when they'll be there.
“Is this okay?” Charles asks, coming out of his bedroom you look up from your phone and see him in a tan dress shirt, a blazer with a pair of dark pants, not skinny, he has one of his watches on and no other accessories. He. Looked. HOT.
“Yeah, just lose the jacket.” You say and stand up, he takes his jacket off and places it to the side. He holds his arms out for your opinion and you smile. Oh if you were a normal couple going to see your normal family, this would've been perfect. Instead you're going to see the man that's been threatening you both. You left your small carry-on at Charles' house, planning to head back to his, so you could fly out to Italy together.
Charles drove the small distance to your family house and parked in the space that's meant for you. You got a text from your brothers Telling you they're already there.
“Are you ready?” You ask Charles in the elevator.
“Yes, are you?” He doesn't want to see your father ever again, but this is much worse for you, you're related to that man.
“As I'll ever be.” You hesitate for a second before you say. “I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.”
“you don't have to.”
“I feel like I should though.” You both don't say more on the topic, as always a maid opens the door for you, and you both step inside, you're led to the formal living room, where the guests are always hosted, can't show everyone we're normal and have normal looking living rooms, oh no what will they say about us. The looks are where formal ends, because once you walk in you smile seeing how Matteo is sat with
his legs spread, and Marco is slouched in his seat, they're both being extra with it and you and your parents know it but it doesn't mean it's not funny.
"Oh y/n, dear I haven't seen you in so long." Your mum says and walks up to you kissing both your cheeks before she moves on quickly to Charles. “You must be Charles, it's good to finally meet you.”
“It's uh, it's good to meet you too.” Charles doesn't know what he expected but it wasn't this, his eyes moved from your mother to your brothers who had their sights on him, making him a bit nervous. They're protective of you, but so is he and they might not like him for marrying you, but he doesn't like them for not taking good care of you. He shakes all their hands and you exchange hugs, you don't bother saying or doing anything with your father other than a quick hello, before you both sit on a sofa together.
It's been four months since the start of this whole thing, and here you are all gathered together, the people affected, threatened, forced and orchestrated by this marriage.
"I heard you haven't won any races this season." Marco said and your eyes snapped to him, his tone is hostel, not friendly at all.
“No, RedBull has been dominating for a while." Charles says, shaking the dig thrown at him.
“He's been on podiums though.” You find yourself sticking up for Charles, he gives you a grateful look, which you return with a smile.
“So he hasn't been winning.”
“No one has been but Verstappen.” You roll your eyes at the childish behaviour your older brothers gained suddenly.
“And you grew up in Monaco?” Matteo then asks him.
“Where are you going with this?” You ask him confused by all the questions.
“What? I'm just getting to know my brother in law.” Matteo tried to act all harmless and innocent but you know your brothers well enough to know there's more to it than that.
“No you're not, please cut it out, it's not like we're all here because we want to anyways.” Your mum gasps, you give her a look, why is she acting like this is normal? You're all been forced to be here and as innocent as she likes to act, she's always in on what your father is up to. She knows everything.
“Let's move to the dining room, why don't we?” your father says and stands up, he thrived on chaos so he's happy how things are right now, split and concur is his favourite method. Charles takes your hand in his, making you pause and look at him he mouths 'it's okay,' and you nod and try to return the smile but you’re not confident and it shows.
Your mum made your brothers sit next to each other so you and Charles sat next to each other, he's closest to your mother and you're next to your father. Food was already laid out for all of you, the start of the meal was silent.
“You know y/n, I'm so happy you're finally in a relationship.” Your mother suddenly says and you stop the fork from reaching your mouth to look at her like she's crazy.
“What are you talking about?” Did she mean you and Charles or something else?
“I'm talking about you and Charles, you silly girl.” You scoff and place your fork on the table.
“You do know that we're forced right? You were here when your husband told me.” Your father sighs not liking where this is going, he's okay with you and your brothers doing whatever to each other but for a twisted reason that is not love he hates when you speak back to your mother.
“Yes mother, and besides, Charles isn't really a golden boy to be proud of having as a son-in-law.” Marco takes the chance to bring Charles in again, he's showing him that he doesn't approve of him.
“You know if you didn't like it, why didn't you stop this?” Charles asks Marco, he's tired of being blamed and the one taking the hits when the person responsible for all of this is sitting two seats down from him.
“Because he threatened to cut us off and stop us from working.” Marco was getting agitated and angry.
“Marco shut up!” You exasperated.
“And what? You let your sister take the fall for you, so you could live happily.” Charles shot back, anger for you cursing through his veins.
“Everyone calm down.” Your mum tried to reason but everyone ignored her.
“Oh so you think you care more about her than we do, now?” Matteo sneers and you groan, this testosterone fight is only going to lead to chaos.
“I wasn't the one who left her alone.”
“Okay, you all shut up right now!” your father shouted and everyone fell silent again. “This is unacceptable, Charles and y/n will be married, and you're all going to be happy about it and that's the last I'll hear of it.”
“So now you're telling us how to feel?” The words leave your mouth before you realise, Charles takes your hand in his, and you slowly look from the plate you had in front of you and up to your father, there’s not going back now. “You've dictated our lives, and even now we're all adults you're making us do what you want, we've done
everything you've asked, but you've never been happy, we were never good enough for you.”
“Don't talk back to me.”
“No, it's not fair, you sold me to someone you don't know, I'm your daughter.” You say and turn to look at your mother. “And you keep acting like you love us, when you know everything and just do nothing, you've never stood up to us.” She takes a sip from her wine glass. “Yes, that's all you do, drink.” You stand up and throw your napkin on the plate. “Let's go Charles.”
Charles stands up and follows you out, as your father shouts after you. “You stop right there you stupid girl.”
“I'll get married, okay, I'll do it, I'll do everything in the contract, anything other than that is none of your business.” You say not turning to look at him as you spoke those words and leave your hand clutching Charles's tightly.
Charles doesn't let go of your hand, and it gives you comfort, you have someone on your side at all times now, looking at Charles you're happy it's him you'll marry and not someone else.
“Thank you.” Your voice is just over a whisper, the dinner took too much out of you.
“Why? I don't think I've made it better.”
“No, you made it all so much better.” Charles sends you a questioning look, tightening your hold on his hand. “You were by my side.”
“I'll always be on your side.” Charles says and your heart skips a beat, there, he's done it, Charles Leclerc has done it, he has your heart, it belongs to him now and there's nothing you or anyone could do to change this. Charles doesn't let go of your hand when you arrive, he just holds your hand when you're walking off to his house, not in the elevator, not until you walk in. “Come on, I think we need to talk.”
You sit on the sofa with your legs under you and Charles also sits down facing you.
“I think we should've had this conversation a long time ago.” Charles starts, your heart beats faster in your chest as your eyes meet and you both don't look away. “Why did you agree to this marriage?”
“Because my father said if I don't he’ll cut us all off, he'll make sure none of us ever find work again, and my brothers, they have families and children, I couldn't let him do that to them.” you tell him and push your hair back. “I was happy the last couple of years in Italy and then he just dropped the bomb on me, and… here we are.”
“Here we are.”
“Why did you agree to it?” You've had your theories at the start of this relationship, but as you've gotten to know Charles you realised how wrong you are.
“I know you've read all the articles about me, it's a long story but I've been with my girlfriend for almost five years when I found out she was cheating on me.- Charles said his voice soft, making you take his hand in yours and give him a squeeze. “I spiraled after that, other than racing which isn't going great, I was always drinking and sleeping around, it affected me her cheating more than I thought it'd ever way, it just shocked me and left me not knowing what to do, my reputation was going down and the sponsors were getting anxiety so your father told me if I don't agree to this I'd kiss my dream goodbye, no future in Formula 1, and I couldn't, it's been my dream and I promised my father I'd do everything I could to be world champion and..."
“You haven't made it yet.”
“No, not yet.” You smile before you laugh, Charles looks at you like you're crazy and you shake your head. “Sorry, it's just so messed up, this whole thing is just so messed up.”
”It is.” Charles chuckles and you sigh, this is all a bit too much. “But I’m glad it’s you.”
An involuntary smile makes its way to your face, you just melted, heart skipping a beat and butterflies in your stomach. the whole shebang.
“I’m happy it’s you too, Charlie.” Hearing you call him Charlie makes him smile, your gaze not straying from the other, basking in the moment, a moment you could ignore everything and everyone, a moment that’s just between you too. Maybe this whole arranged marriage thing will be okay in the end.
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Next day you both fly out in Charles’s private jet with his family and team, Lorenzo is still standoffish, but now that you know that he’s in on everything you don’t blame him. He’s not rude to you at all, but he’s cold, something that you attributed to how he was raised. Even though he knows his brother is forced into it, he hasn’t been rude after the first time you met, when he just found out the truth.
The plane landed in Milan where you live, but you went with the family to Monza for the race, promising to take Charles to your studio after the weekend.
The first two days, media and FP1-2, go like how all the other races go, this time you’ve met more drivers, you met Pierre and Kika are one of the ones you met and was found talking to. You and the model exchanged details and followed each other on Instagram, you all went out to have dinner after media day, and you and Kika sat together talking all the time, with Charles and Pierre sat on each side of you not understanding how two people who just met could have this much to talk about and how you talk about everything.
pierregasly posted to their story
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caption[ I think i lose my girlfriend @/charles_leclerc]
Charles_leclerc reposted to his story
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Caption [looks like it mate]
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Lorenzo was watching the both of you with hawk eyes, he felt like things have changed between the two of you or you’ve become better actors, because why does Charles have his hand on the back of your chair, why is your hands laced together a lot, why are you leaning into him, are do you have inside jokes and share those knowing looks. You’re having deep conversation, a closeness and ease that hasn’t been there before. So he takes the moment you went to Charles’s driver’s room to leave your bag there and took his brother to the side.
”What’s going on with you and y/n?” Enzo asked Charles, his brows furrowing.
”What are you talking about?” Charles asked, his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding, he’s been denying his growing feelings for you, but it seemed like his brother picked up on it. “We’re just trying to make the best of a… difficult situation.”
Lorenzo wasn’t convinced he knew Charles, he knows there’s more to it.
“Don’t lie to me and don’t lie to yourself, Charles.” Lorenzo said his tone leaving no space for argument. “I can see the way you look at her, the way you care about her, you like her, and I think she likes you too.”
For a moment Charles was silent, his mind racing with emotions and he’s thinking about the time you’ve come to share together and how he’s been enjoying it. he had spent so long denying his feelings for you, burying them down, he tried to tell himself that no he doesn’t find you the prettiest most beautiful woman he has ever met, he hates when you go on rants about the things you love, he hates that you’ve picked up on so many habits he has and have come to understand him, he hates how you’re passionate and warm and kind and soft and elegant, he hates it, he just hates it. But here he is standing in front of his brother, the walls that have been down for a while are just made apparent to him, he just realised them. He nods, and a smile slowly appears on his face.
”Yeah, I do, I do like her.” Charles says his eyes are not meeting his brother’s as he’s lost in thought, his brows move slightly together and then he’s shaking his head no. “No, actually I love her.”
Lorenzo’s expression softened at his brother’s admission, a sense of understanding coming over him. “Then just embrace it, and let her know.”
”I just wish we met under different circumstances.” Charles confessed, his voice tinged with regret. “But either way, I’m just glad that fate brought y/n into my life.”
And as they stood there in the hustle and bustle of the garage, Charles knew that he’s ready, he’s ready to tell you what he feels and maybe start dating for real this time, have a samples of normality in your relationship before you get married.
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After Sunday, Charles’s family flies back to Monaco and the Ferrari driver comes with you to Milan.
“Promise me you won’t judge.” You say to Charles after you turn to look at him, your studio’s key is already in the door waiting for you to twist it.
”I promise, mon amour.” Charles says and your face lights up at his pet name, you couch and turn to face the door.
”Didn’t have to say that.” You mutter and feel your cheeks turn pink, you open the door and lead Charles in, the big windows let in so much light but you go and turn on the light as well. The studios was spacious with high ceiling, paintings where leaning on the wall, a couple were covered, there was pain stains on the ground on the walls, there was a small kitchen to the side and a bathroom, there’s a pull out sofa against one wall with a few chairs littering the place and table with wheels, a table with no wheels, drawers of supplies and easels. This place truly looked like an artist's dream, it was messy but organised, it was all you.
”Wow.” Charles says and walks to the wall that had paintings on it, you follow him, keeping your eyes on him as you take in every little reaction he has. “You’re so talented y/n.”
”Thank you.” You reply softly. “You can flip through the paintings if you want, I'll make us tea.”
Charles has seen a lot of your work on your instagram and you’ve shown him a lot but seeing them in real life he realised they weren’t given justice with the photos, there’s so much detail in the work you’ve done, each brush stroke pressed with intention. Charles moved to the two covered ones, they were on the big size, his curiosity got the best of him and he pulled the fabric down.
”Wait Charles-“ It was too late, he saw them, his mouth hanging open as he stared at… himself.
“That’s-that’s me.” You sigh feeling embarrassed, your face turning red.
”Yeah.” You mumble and cough.
”Fucking hell, mon amour.” Charles turns to look at you and you’re looking away refusing to look in his direction, his eyes soften at your embarrassment. Charles walks up to you and you’re refusing to look at him, so gently cups your cheeks and your eyes meet his, getting lost in the shades of blue and green in his eyes. the shades you know from memory, the colours you painted and brought to life on your canvas. Charle’s breath gets caught in his throat, the words he was planning to say slipping from his mind, so he just presses his lips to yours, you gasp a little before following his lead, your hands clutching his shirt. It’s a moment of vulnerability, the product of simmering feelings that bubbled to reach the surface. your kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and desperate with each passing moment, as you’re trying to pour all your pent-up feeling, emotions and desires into this single electrifying moment. You move closer, your bodies pressed together, holding to each other’s curves, the intensity bordering on desperation.
When you broke apart, gasping for breath Charles’s hands are still cupping your face, his eyes ablaze with fire that threatened to consume you both.
”I love you, y/n.” He whispered, his voice raw with emotion, your heart swelled with joy at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reaches up to caress his cheek.
“And I love you Charles, with everything that I am.”
With a shared understanding and longing and love you sealed the moment with another searing kiss, letting together us a oissionate embrace that seemed to stretch on forever. In that moment, amidst the quietness of the studio, you were no longer bound by a contract, but by the pure and unadulterated love for each other. In each other’s arms you’ve found the only solace and sanctuary you’ve ever needed or wanted.
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It’s not to say that everything turned out to be what you wanted, in a couple months and while Charles was on his winter break your wedding was set. There was no talking your father out of it, but you weren’t dreading the moment anymore. You know that fate was going to bring you together in the end, one way or the other. Yes you’d still be dating, but in the end you’d get engaged and then married. Speaking of engaged, Charles did propose to you, it was a private event, only the two of you on his yacht away from prying eyes, with soft music playing in the background. The monegasque got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. Ignoring the fact that you’re bound by a contact you agreed instantly, tears in your eyes and a smile on your face.
But here you are now standing across from Charles, your eyes locked in a silent exchange if understanding, the weight of their circumstances hung heavy in the air. The officiant, cleared his throat and said his words singling to you to start your vows.
Charles took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he spoke his voice steady yet laced with emotions.
”y/n, I know that our beginning is not the one we would’ve liked for each other, but I’m glad that it did. But I know that fate has intertwined our future together, one way or the other I would’ve made my way to you. In you, I have found a companion, a confidante and a source of strength. I vow to stand by your side through everything that may come our way, to support you, to cherish you and to love you with all that I am, for as long as we live.”
Your heart swelled with emotion as you listened to Charles’ words, your eyes shining with unshed tears. You took a moment to compose yourself before speaking your voice soft but unwavering.
“Charles, Charlie.” You begin and your voice starts to tremble with emotion the more you speak. “When we first met I never imagined that our paths would be so intertwined, that I’d reach a point where I can’t imagine living without you. In you I have found a partner in crime, in life. You’ve showed me so much love that I never experienced before and for that I’ll be always grateful, I vow to stand by your side to be on your team, to lift you up when you falter, to love you unconditionally and with every fibre of my being.”
In that moment, those who doubted you, those that thought they won, those that wished your relationship would end, all knew that as you shared your first kiss as husband and wife, that you’re a team, a family, and that nothing can bring you down. You made each other stronger, you made each other happy, and you had your whole futures in front of you to heal all the wounds you had in the past, you’ll both grow and heal and live together.
Your journey is far from over, there’s so much that you’ll face. But you’ll face it together in each other’s arms, where you felt the purest kind of happiness.
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flowersandbigteeth · 2 days
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Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!
This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^
I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* ( ̄ w ̄)Ψ
Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader
Word Count: 6K
TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing
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“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd. 
The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air. 
“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table. 
“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way. 
The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face. 
“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows. 
He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric. 
“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”
The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared. 
“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.” 
Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital. 
“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage. 
The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.
“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.” 
“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.” 
“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” 
The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables. 
“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”
He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.
“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.” 
“(Y/N).”
“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 
You gave him a sharp nod. 
“I do.” 
He swung a lazy eye at Saber. 
“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?” 
He gave you a bright smile. 
“I do.” 
The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you. 
“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”
He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest. 
“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.
You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face. 
“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!” 
He chuckled.
“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.” 
He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking. 
“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.” 
He shrugged. 
“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?” 
You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.  
“Maybe I should have let you die.”
Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head. 
“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!” 
You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket. 
“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!” 
You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see. 
“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you. 
“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.
His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck. 
“It won’t come off.” 
You nodded proudly. 
“Exactly.”
He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again. 
“Interesting,” he murmured.  
“What? What does that mean?” 
He smiled and shrugged.
“Lead the way, spouse.” 
You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things. 
“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.
“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.” 
He ignored you, looking around. 
“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.” 
You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms. 
“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”
You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin. 
“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.” 
He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands. 
“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.” 
Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water. 
“What are you doing?” 
He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through. 
“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”
Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you. 
“How long have you been living alone?” 
You blushed, embarrassed. 
“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.” 
“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.” 
You gave him an indignant snuff. 
“At least I’m not a thief!” 
He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings. 
“Hey! You stole that!” 
He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket. 
“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?” 
You sucked in a deep annoyed breath. 
“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.” 
“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 
What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him. 
But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner. 
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup. 
A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might. 
Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task. 
Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door. 
“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task. 
“Sit down,” you barked. 
A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head. 
“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?” 
You wrinkled your nose at him. 
“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!” 
He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump. 
“S-sorry,” you muttered.
“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.” 
You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line. 
“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?” 
He paused for a moment before he jerked his head. 
“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.” 
“Why?” 
“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”
He sighed. 
“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.” 
Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly. 
“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.” 
He swiveled around to look at you, smiling. 
“Thanks, doc!”
“I’m not a doctor.” 
He shrugged. 
“What’s the difference?” 
“Ten years of special-”
You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.
“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.” 
He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving. 
“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked. 
“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.” 
He frowned. 
“No meat?” 
You blinked at him. 
“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?” 
He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly. 
When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him. 
“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table. 
“Why, trying to run off?” 
He smirked. 
“No, why would I want to run away from you?” 
He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued. 
“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.” 
Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. 
“A couple of miles in any direction.” 
“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.” 
You shrugged. 
“I can’t be right at your side every minute.” 
He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 
“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?” 
Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup. 
“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.” 
While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction. 
You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes. 
“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go. 
“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on. 
“There’s a couch in the living room.” 
He wrinkled his nose. 
“It’s covered in stuff.” 
You shrugged, trying to hurry past him. 
“I’ll clean it up.”
You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder. 
“Wh-what are you doing?” 
“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.” 
He patted your butt for emphasis. 
“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!” 
Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled. 
“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!” 
“They were going to kill you!” 
He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck. 
“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin. 
“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.
Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas. 
When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants. 
“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.  
He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes. 
“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!” 
You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison. 
“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas! 
Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot. 
“Get in,” you said. 
Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. 
“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!” 
You let out a long sigh. 
“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”
Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him. 
“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”
He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks. 
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” 
He shrugged, his jaw tightening. 
“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.” 
A long sigh slipped past his lips. 
“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”
Your mouth fell open. 
“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”
He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair. 
“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.” 
“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”
He smirked. 
“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.” 
He pinched your chin. 
“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.” 
Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him. 
“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.” 
You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you. 
The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together. 
“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness. 
You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before. 
Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe. 
When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream? 
The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not. 
Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing. 
“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 
It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual. 
Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something. 
Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping? 
You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work. 
You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled. 
Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered. 
Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside. 
“Morning, spouse!” 
Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders. 
“What’s that?” 
He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders. 
“Meat!” he announced proudly. 
You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat. 
“Where are you off to?” he asked. 
“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path. 
A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming. 
“What are you doing?” 
“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.” 
You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow. 
“Helloooo? Helllloooo?” 
A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs.  Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.
“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?” 
“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier. 
Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you. 
“Saber! There you are!” 
She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes. 
“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?” 
“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!” 
When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. 
“Not someone. Me.” you interjected. 
You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm. 
“Saber is my husband. Who are you?” 
She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you. 
“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?” 
Saber’s shocked face tightened. 
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.” 
She scoffed. 
“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.” 
Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned. 
His brow drew, looking between you and her. 
“What child?” 
She huffed, frowning at you. 
“Fine…If you must do this, this way.” 
She turned to the carriage and yelled. 
“Nora, bring the baby!” 
A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn. 
Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands. 
“This…he…is mine?” 
Melody nodded. 
“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.” 
He glanced up at her. 
“You want to get back together?” 
She let out a cruel but trilling laugh. 
“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!” 
Anger roiled under your skin. 
“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded. 
She snorted as if that were a foolish question. 
“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”
She fluttered her iridescent wings. 
“It only need be a fairy child.” 
You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls. 
“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.” 
She glanced at you. 
“What do you want? Money?”
You let out a tight chuff. 
“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.” 
Her eyes jerked to Saber. 
“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"
You scoffed, rolling your eyes.
"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."
She glared at you.
"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"
Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace. 
“Have you named him?” he asked. 
She looked contrite but lifted her chin. 
“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...” 
He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child. 
“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.” 
“But Saber-” 
“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.” 
You jerked your chin at her. 
“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”
Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels. 
“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”  
Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama. 
“Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.” 
He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.
“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?” 
You smiled at him. 
“Let’s talk it over over lunch.” 
The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.
“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.” 
He looked down at you. 
“You won’t miss this place?” 
You sighed. 
“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.” 
“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.” 
You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.
“What? I thought you said you were broke?” 
He smiled down at you. 
“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.” 
He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink. 
“I think we can buy a nice place with this.” 
You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.
“I thought you lost it gambling?” 
He shrugged. 
“I lied.” 
“Why did you keep it?” 
He gave you a long look.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.” 
“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?” 
“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.
I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.” 
He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.  
“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.” 
His gaze dropped to the baby. 
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”
He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say. 
“What about Arel?” you asked. 
“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.” 
You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks. 
“It is…it means ‘treasure’.” 
He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe. 
“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek. 
Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon. 
Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face. 
“Is he okay?” 
“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.” 
Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.
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hgfictionwriter · 18 hours
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Getaway
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: Jessie's in her head about your friendship and if it can be something more. Can a vacation getaway change the trajectory of your connection?
A/N: Get ready for shy, sweet, awkward Jessie doing her best to not get in her own way and win over her girl. Someone requested fluff and while this isn't quite it - it's on its way lol. No warnings for this fic.
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"Um, can I get you a refill?" Jessie asked as she spied the near empty glass in your hand. 
"Only if you're getting one," you responded with a nod to the cup Jessie was holding.  
Niamh and Zee had both retired for the night and it was now just Jessie and you around the firepit of the villa the four of you were renting. Jessie wasn't a night owl and she was actively fighting the weight of her heavy eyelids, but she wanted to stay up with you. And frankly, she was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking as well. She was already feeling a bit of a buzz and wasn't entirely confident about having another drink. You noted her hesitation and smiled.  
"Doesn't have to be a boozy drink. I could go for a late night tea instead." 
Jessie smiled gratefully. You knew her so well.  
"Sure, let's do that," Jessie said. 
When Jessie returned a while later with two steaming mugs of tea, she also had a bag of crackers tucked under her arm and handed them to you. 
"Oh my gosh," you said as she sat up to receive the items. "How did you know I wanted a snack?" You blew on the hot beverage before taking a tentative sip. "And you remembered how I take my tea. Thank you." 
"Of course," Jessie said, hiding a pleased smile. An easy quiet fell over the two of you as you sipped your drinks. Jessie had to make a concerted effort to focus her gaze on the fire and to not stare at this beautiful woman across from her. She should really just enjoy the silence and your company, but an urge had been nagging her and her resolve was fading. 
"So, how are you liking it here so far?" She asked.  
"It's beautiful. Obviously," you responded with a light chuckle. "I'm loving it. Thank you again - to all of you - for letting me tag along on your unofficial team trip." 
"Oh, no need to thank me or any of us. We're all super glad you're here," Jessie said. She did her best to push down the awkward or self-criticizing feeling that was starting to bubble up inside of her. 
It's just Y/N, she had to remind herself so she wouldn't get caught up in analyzing her own words and actions. 
When Jessie first met you through Niamh over a year ago, you hit it off. At the time, Jessie made a point of not giving it too much headspace. It was just one meeting after all and it could have been a fluke. But when you saw each other again at another event, it became evident to Jessie that there was actually something there. Your chemistry was natural, banter was easy, and your conversation led to some deeper things and you ended up talking late into the night. Jessie was reserved, even shy, so warming up to someone so quickly and feeling comfortable wasn't the norm.  
Just as Jessie was working up the nerve to ask you for your number - an extreme rarity - it came to light that you had a girlfriend. That brought everything to a crashing halt. 
Jessie had been furious with herself for misreading your connection and for almost making a fool out of herself. She was even more upset with herself for how disappointed she felt by this turn of events. It had only been a couple of conversations and she shouldn't be so affected. Regardless, she most definitely didn't want to get caught up in any drama. So when you parted ways that night she dismissed the notion that it could've ever been anything more. She was committed to pushing you from her mind and that was the end of it. 
However, your paths kept crossing and that chemistry didn't go away. In fact, every time you talked, Jessie found that you lingered longer and longer in her mind and that feeling in her chest grew warmer and brighter.  
In time, Jessie convinced herself that being friends wouldn't be so bad. And, truthfully, it was mostly good. There were, regretfully too many, moments where Jessie had to do everything in her power to not reach out to hold your hand or to not let it show when mention of your girlfriend sent a dagger through her insides, but Jessie's life was undeniably better with you in it than even the thought of one without.  
Knowing that you'd never be anything more made things simple enough, not easy, but the lines were undebatable. However, since you and your girlfriend broke up a couple of months ago, things were different and Jessie was having more and more difficulty navigating your dynamic. The chemistry was still clear as day for Jessie, but did you feel the same? And even on the off-chance that you did feel the same, were you ready for a new relationship? And now that you'd been friends for so long, Jessie had to weigh the cost of risking your friendship. The thought of losing you terrified her.
All of the drama she'd been trying to avoid seemed to be closing in on her despite her efforts. She should really just let it all go, but it was proving harder and harder to. 
"Did you and [y/ex] ever talk about visiting here?" Jessie asked clumsily. She had to resist the urge to sigh in annoyance at herself. She watched your reaction carefully; if you were put-off or perplexed by the inquiry, you didn't let on. 
"No," you answered nonchalantly and shrugged. "She wasn't really big on travel. So, it never really came up. I've always wanted to come here though, so this is perfect." 
"Oh yeah, me too," Jessie said quickly - too quickly. She fought off the wince that threatened to cross her face. She cleared her throat inaudibly and redirected. "Um, I haven't really checked in in a while. Uh, so, how are you? You know…since the break-up." 
It seemed that no matter how many times she’d rehearsed these conversations, they just never really came out the way she wanted them to. Maybe it was a good thing she had a bit of a buzz, because otherwise she'd probably be sinking into her chair and praying to disappear at how clunky she was approaching this. 
"You're sweet," you responded with a small smile. Again, if you were thrown off by any of this, you weren't letting it be known. "I'm doing well. Honestly." Jessie didn't fill the silence that formed and you went on, dropping eye-contact and swirling your tea distractedly. "It was the right decision." 
"That's good," Jessie affirmed with a nod. "I mean, if you're not in love, no point in dragging things on."  
"Exactly. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us. And truthfully, it was a long time coming," you said returning a nod. You let out a quick exhale and sat back in your chair, a faint smirk now forming on your face. "And what about you? Anyone on the horizon for you?" 
A deep blush immediately began to burn on Jessie's cheeks. She forced what she hoped was an easy laugh. "Nothing on the horizon." 
You shot her a discerning look. "No one? The entire time I’ve known you you’ve never been remotely interested in anyone. So still no one?” 
"What?" Jessie defended, her voice rising in pitch. Her cheeks were on fire as she frowned at you. "I'm too busy. I'm gone like every other week, and sometimes for weeks at a time. That's not exactly the best foundation for a relationship." 
Great. Just go ahead and tell her all the reasons why you'd make a crappy partner, Jessie thought disparagingly. 
To Jessie's surprise, you smiled. 
"That right there tells me you'd be a good partner. It's very thoughtful. I mean, from what I've seen, there are a lot of others who don't afford partners - if you can call them that sometimes - the same kind of care and consideration," you relayed. "That said, life is short. Even if your schedule is crazy, if she's the right one for you, you'll make it work. And if you're the right one for her, she won't mind that your schedule is crazy. It'll make the moments that you're together that much sweeter." 
If Jessie's blush was about to fade, that last part had the opposite effect on her. All she could do was offer a tight smile. 
"I suppose that's true." 
She cleared her throat, building herself up to shift the focus of the conversation back to you.  
“Uh, you mentioned your break up was a long time coming - what did that mean?” She tried to make it sound casual, but she feared the chances of that were quite low. She added quickly, “You obviously don’t need to tell me anything. You just never really said why you broke up and I just-” 
“It’s okay. Really.” You mercifully interjected. You settled further into your chair with a heavy sigh, your gaze drawn back to the drink in your hands. You took a few moments to formulate your response. “I think it just became apparent to me that my feelings for her weren’t what they should be. She deserved more. And I do, too.”  
“That’s very mature. And takes a lot of self-awareness,” Jessie offered.  
“Thanks,” you said simply with a faint smile and a shrug.  
Jessie waited a beat to see if you would elaborate more, but you didn’t. Jessie contemplated what to say next and although she didn’t fully trust where her instincts were taking her, she went with it nonetheless.  
“Um, I know it’s only been a couple of months, but is there anyone on the horizon for you? Like, are you looking to date again?” Once more, she did her damnedest to make it sound like idle curiosity. She watched you carefully while you considered your response.  
“Mm, I’m taking my time, I suppose,” you eventually replied. “But, with the right person, I’d be all for it.” 
Jessie nodded as she continued to map out how to navigate this discussion. She wanted to push, but fear around jeopardizing your friendship confined her in a lot of ways. She had to be careful.
“And I guess you know better now what you want versus what you don’t want,” she said. You nodded as you peered over your mug at Jessie.  
“Yes, that’s true. I do.” 
Jessie was about to ask what you were looking for when your phone buzzed and the screen lit up, distracting you both.  
Jessie felt an irrational, yet thankfully fleeting, wave of jealousy come over her as she imagined the text was from your ex, as unlikely as that would be. Regardless, she studied your expression as you read the text, noting the discerning frown on your normally gentle features.  
“Everything okay?” Jessie asked.  
“Oh, yeah,” you replied, your frown dissipating as you locked your phone. “My sister’s just making some questionable decisions. Nothing serious,” you assured with a chuckle, “but she felt compelled to tell me.” You drained your drink, setting it down on the table. “It's 1:30.” You announced as you held up your phone to show the time. No wonder Jessie was so tired. "What time did we want to head out tomorrow?" 
"About 9," Jessie replied, now suddenly struggling to stifle a yawn.   
"Okay, shit. Sorry - I kept you up. I know you normally go to bed a lot earlier than this," you apologized. Jessie was quick to dismiss the notion. 
"Not at all. Well, yeah, I go to bed earlier normally, but we're on vacation. I didn't even realize it was so late," she said, hesitating for a moment before going on. "And I always enjoy our conversations." 
"Me too." 
Jessie could've beamed. It wasn’t much, but it made her happy nonetheless. She smiled, but tried to tamper it.
“I guess we should try to get some sleep though, hey?” You proposed. Jessie hoped that she was right in hearing a hint of regret in your tone. Even though Jessie didn’t want the night to end, morning was going to come quickly.
She stood and began gathering up the glasses and other items.  
"Hey, I can take mine. Don't worry." You protested, but Jessie was already walking to the kitchen with all of the dishes in hand. "Gosh," you complained lightly as you followed her in, "you never let me take care of anything. I'm still not over you carrying my luggage in for me. And Niamh's never going to let me live that down. Or maybe even you, for that matter." 
Jessie was glad she was hunched over loading items into the dishwasher otherwise you would've caught a new blush forming across her cheeks.  
"You're an 'acts of service', aren't you?" You proposed as you leaned an elbow on the table to prop up your chin.  
"Huh?" Jessie asked as she closed the dishwasher door and straightened up. 
"Love language," you elaborated. Jessie started to stumble over her words when you interjected. "It can be for anything - not just romance. Friendships too. It's just how you show you care." 
"Oh, yeah I guess, then," Jessie conceded. "Um, what are you?" 
"'Words of affirmation', for the most part. 'Quality time' is pretty high too, though," she answered.  
"Oh, so we're not that compatible.” Jessie risked the joke before she could stop herself, ensuring to tack on a teasing smirk to alleviate as much weight as possible given she broached your compatibility. 
"Excuse me?" You protested with a laugh. "That's not necessarily true. I enjoy receiving acts of service. So there's compatibility there. Do you like receiving words of affirmation or do you like quality time, I guess that's the question." 
Jessie subconsciously started scratching the back of her head and averted her gaze.  
"Um, I don't particularly like compliments, but I guess it depends on context, I don't know," she trailed off. "And I'm an introvert and I need time alone, but, if I like someone I do like spending time with them." 
"Well, it's not just strictly compliments," you corrected, drawing Jessie's eyes back. "It's like," you paused briefly, seeming to contemplate something before going on, "if I say, "Jessie, even though I didn't need you to carry my luggage in, I appreciated you doing so. It made me feel welcome and cared for. You are one of the most thoughtful and sweet people I know - you are important to me and I feel lucky to have you in my life." 
Jessie's cheeks began to burn yet again. Her heart was racing and the eye contact you held quickly became too much. She tried to distract with a roll of her eyes and an amused laugh.  
"Right," she said.
Thoughts clamored in her head and no single one stood out as the right thing to say. She was aware of how too much space was starting to fill your conversation.  
"Well, I should let you get to sleep," you said softly, relieving Jessie of the task of finishing her thoughts. Jessie cursed inwardly.  
"Oh yeah, sure," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Um, well I'll walk you to your room." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She couldn't stand how awkward she was sometimes. 
"Okay." Despite the odd proposal, you accepted with a gentle smile.  
You chatted quietly as you walked upstairs, past Jessie's room and further down the hall. You should've said goodnight right away, but instead Jessie found herself drawing out your goodbye. It didn't seem like you were in a rush, so Jessie cast aside the doubt that was crawling up inside of her. 
When you finally said 'good night', Jessie wrestled with the act of hugging you or not. She debated it heavily and was outrageously close to initiating it, but when the moment came she ended up turning on her heel and giving a small wave instead. She had to resist the urge to slam her bedroom door when she got inside over how frustrated she was with herself. 
When she finally turned off the light and got under the covers to sleep, she was wide awake. The way sleep had been pulling at her prior was now fully replaced with reflections of the night and irritation with herself. She sighed and let her arms fall heavily at her sides as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. More thoughts swirled inside her head and she screwed her eyes shut before forcing herself to breathe and trying to relax.  
Despite her best efforts, she tossed and turned for a while before finally admitting defeat and pulling out her phone to pass the time. Maybe it was the lingering alcohol, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it was after 2:30 when she pulled up her conversation with you and sent a text with a screenshot of the test she just did.  
"Confirmed. Acts of Service. And I actually do like Words of Affirmation." 
To her surprise, three dots appeared in the bottom left of your conversation. Jessie's breath caught in her throat and she remained motionless watching the dots fade in and out. 
"I knew it. So what I'm hearing is, we are compatible lol." 
Another breath caught in Jessie's throat as she read your reply. Her chest was burning and she was grateful for the fact that this was over text. She actually had the chance to think about what she wanted to say. 
"Definitely. Though I'm not surprised." 
"Tell me more." 
Jessie fidgeted as her mind churned with possibilities. This was a moment where things could change - a moment she told herself for more than a year that she didn't want or need. You were friends. Good friends. What if she misread things again - she had before. What if she ruined everything just because she couldn't control herself. 
"Shouldn't you be asleep?" 
She chickened out. 
"I couldn't sleep." 
"Apparently, neither could you." 
Jessie exhaled shakily.  
"True." 
"Well, it's silly that we're texting. Why don't you just come over." 
Jessie's brow furrowed in deep confusion as she read your text. She reread it just to be sure.  
"We have to be up early. I don’t want to keep you up." 
She was such a coward. A heavy feeling fell over her chest making it harder to breathe. She let the phone fall against her. It buzzed. 
"Okay. Well, if you change your mind, come on over. I'm not tired, so I won't be falling asleep soon anyway." 
Jessie locked her phone and set it down on the bedside table. She rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. 
The tight, heavy feeling in her chest kept growing and nagging at her despite how she was trying to breathe and decompress. Of course she shouldn't go to your room. She should just go to sleep. And of course your offer didn't mean anything. Why would it? You were friends. Always just friends.  
What was she doing?  
She wasn't sure how much time passed before she sat up in her bed. She didn't even really realize she was doing it until she was straight up and staring at the wall ahead of her. She swallowed heavily and her heart began to beat loudly in her chest as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stepped onto the hardwood. She took a steadying breath before she stood and crept over to the door, opening it a crack. She peered down the hall and saw the faintest glow coming from your room. Was your door open? 
Jessie swallowed her trepidation and began to softly pad down the hall, mindful to make as little noise as possible. As she neared your room, she confirmed that your door was ajar. Jessie's heartbeat was loud in her head now as she slowly approached the door. She knocked very faintly before pushing it open a few inches to peek inside. 
The tension that was holding Jessie's shoulders high towards her ears suddenly fell from her and she exhaled silently upon seeing you casually laying in bed under the glow of your phone and waving her in. 
"I told you I wasn't tired," you whispered as you sat up.  
"I couldn't sleep either," Jessie told you as she quietly closed the door behind her.  
A belated self-consciousness swept over Jessie at the realization that she was standing here in her pajamas, a t-shirt and shorts. She subconsciously tugged down the hem of her shorts.  
She sees you in a t-shirt and shorts every game. Calm down, she chided internally.  
Jessie quickly took in her surroundings, now suddenly unsure of what to do. Her eyes settled upon a chair at the desk in the corner of the room. She walked over there and began turning it so she could sit.  
"Jessie, don't be silly. Just sit over here," you said as you scooted over and patted the spot next to you on the bed. 
Jessie hesitated, but didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so she nodded and came over and daintily took a seat on the far edge of the bed. Her ears burned hot as she felt you shooting her a look, coupled with a soft laugh.  
"It's okay, Jessie. Relax. It's just me." Your voice was warm and reassuring and Jessie felt tension leaving her body once again. 
Conversation started up once more and you talked further into the night. Jessie had no idea what time it was anymore, but it didn't matter, she was happy where she was and didn't want it to end. Eventually, you laid down onto your side and propped the pillow up under your head with a yawn. Jessie was about to offer to leave when you gestured to the spot next to you. 
"Lay down. Make yourself at home," you said.  
Jessie didn't want to get too in her head about this. She did this kind of thing with teammates and it didn't mean a thing. Did it mean something now? Or was it just like with her teammates - nothing. She cast the thoughts from her head and laid down on the covers. When you told her she could get under the covers, she dismissed it and even though she was chilled, she insisted she wasn't cold.  
"So, tell me," you said when a small lull formed in your conversation later on.  
"Tell you what?" Jessie asked, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  
"Tell me why you're not surprised that we're compatible," you responded lightly. 
"Oh," Jessie said, her mind suddenly sharpening at the twist in your conversation. Her previous nervousness returned, but this time a certain calm surrounded it. "Well, I mean, we've always gotten along really well. Friendship-wise.”
Old habits died hard.  
“Hm. That’s true,” you said quietly with a nod of acceptance. A couple of moments passed. “In terms of compatibility - love languages aside. What are you looking for? Not friendship-wise. You never say.” 
It was true. Jessie was very tight lipped about it, even with friends she wasn’t in love with. She endured relentless teasing about it, but she just didn’t like putting herself out there like that. However, right now, in the dark, lying next to you, things felt different.  
“I…,” she trailed off momentarily before finding her resolve and her voice. “I want someone who I can be myself with. Someone who will be my person. Who I can talk to about anything and everything. Who I can be vulnerable with – I have to be at my best all the time and for so many people, so to be able to let my guard down means a lot. But, just as easily, I want to be able to have silly and goofy moments together. Someone where doing something as simple as grocery shopping or cooking together can feel like an adventure. I don't know – just that one person who can be my anchor when I'm constantly on the move and trying to live up to others expectations, and I want to be that for them as well, even if I'm 1,000 miles away. No pressure for me – or her – to be anything other than who we are." 
“That’s beautiful. Truly. And you deserve that and more,” you said. Your gaze lingered for a moment before you went on. “Whoever you choose in the end is going to be a very lucky person.” 
“Thanks.” Jessie had to force herself not to protest. And I want it to be you, she thought. Instead, she said, “I mean, same with you.” 
Even in the dark, Jessie spied the small smile you gave her.  
“You’re too nice to me,” you said with a soft chuckle as you nestled into your pillow further. “Thank you, though.” 
“What do you mean?” Jessie asked. A shy smile formed on her face as she went on. “I mean, words of affirmation here, you deserve it. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. And, yeah, I feel really lucky to have you in my life. And, um, whoever you choose to be with next…you deserve to be spoiled by them. They should take care of you,” she began to stammer, “well, not like take care of, cause you’re totally independent, which is awesome, but you know, Acts of Service.” She winced and did her best to rally and finish strong. “What I mean is they should make you feel, every day, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them. And that there’s no one else in this world for them.” 
“Wow. See? You’re amazing, Jessie. Honestly. Thank you. That means so much to me.” 
“Yeah, no worries,” Jessie quickly dismissed with a light laugh.  
Neither of you spoke for several moments and the tension became too much for Jessie, causing her to quickly change subjects.  
She wasn’t sure how much longer you talked, because the next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes and you were fast asleep next to her. A rush of panic went through her momentarily before she just allowed herself to relax. She debated getting up and leaving, but she indulged herself instead. It was too comfortable laying here with you and, truthfully, she may never get this opportunity again. She took in your sleeping form and before she knew it she was asleep again.  
The next time Jessie woke up, the veil of relaxation and drowsiness quickly dissipated as she looked down to see that you were cuddled into her arm. Jessie lay still as she processed the situation, but couldn’t ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. After a few moments, she steeled herself and began to carefully disentangle herself from you. Though she didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to take advantage.
She took one last glance at you. The first breaks of dawn started to filter into the room, casting you in warm light. A lump formed in Jessie’s throat, the feelings inside of her threatening to overflow. Jessie turned and retreated to her own room to try to catch a couple more hours of sleep. She was positive that if she managed to find sleep, she’d dream of nothing but you.
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whiskeyghoul · 3 days
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She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader] Pt2.
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Read part 1 here
A/N: OMG I can’t believe how much people enjoyed part 1? Seriously, as I am finishing this part up it has reached over 500 notes, I am shocked and so very thankful for the love. I didn’t expect it. A silly little fic not proof read, totally self indulgent, really this is so wonderful and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read it and reblog, like or comment on it. I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint. Part 3 is going to be here soon too, which will be the unofficial date.
WC: 1,9K ~
Tags: Fluff, just fluff, Spencer is a flustered mess, Alt!Reader, Goth!Reader, 2 idiots flirting, Reader and Penelope are besties, use of Y/N, Penelope has been playing matchmaker, alluding to a date, crushes.
Warnings: None. 
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Your pov.
It was a late Sunday afternoon. You were sitting on Penelope Garcia’s couch, cup of hot tea in hand. Legs curled up on the couch with a colorful blanket over your lap. It clashed just ever so slightly with your dark outfit. The two of you are in complete contrast to each other. Penelope was a ball of color in a bright purple dress with a lemon pattern, large yellow earrings and a blue bolero sweater. Compared to your all black ensemble she was a ray of sunshine. An array of snacks spread out over the coffee table. The aforementioned peppy blonde was sitting next to you on the couch. Deeply engrossed with the romance show playing on the TV. You watched it together every Sunday, when a new episode would come out. Today your mind was somewhere else completely.
“He hasn’t called yet.” You spoke up. Penelope eyed you curiously, “Who?” She asked, her focus gone from the show. Her eyes peered at you with interest from behind the cat eye glasses she had picked out that day. “Doctor Reid.” You turned your head back to the TV casually, trying to not seem bothered. You could hear Penelope hold back a small squeal. It sounded more like a gasp that way. “Oh my god! Are you interested in him? What did he do to impress you? I have been trying to set you up for ages! You have shot down any person I have discussed with you. Always something wrong.” She started rambling, hearing the clink of her glass being put on the coffee table. Her hands grabbed yours, making you look back at her and rolling your eyes. “Firstly: I am not ‘interested’ in him. Secondly: I just thought he would have called by now. Or stopped by at least.” You shrugged noncommittally. You were just a little interested. Thinking back to that meeting.
When Spencer had stepped into the lab earlier that week, courtesy of Penelope, you had found his awkward demeanor endearing. He was hot, that was for sure, and tall, you remembered having to look up at him, Those dark brown eyes pinning you in place. Especially when you had stood so close together. You had wanted to tease him after watching him stumble over his sentences. See him even more flustered. It made you somewhat excited. When you had given him your number you could feel his pulse racing under his skin. He had shown many signs of being interested yet he hadn’t even texted you. It made you rethink the interaction. 
“Well, he couldn’t have stopped by. They got called on a case in Utah so he’s not really in the area right now.” Penelope clarified. Those words put your mind at ease more than you expected them to. “Oh, I guess he can’t really get to the lab then.” You shrugged. Just a little disappointed but feeling relieved that apparently he hadn’t meant to not visit you. Or maybe he had done so on purpose if he would be close. Your earlier relief was replaced by a mild panic again. Trying to convince yourself you weren’t interested in Dr. Reid. Although, he could have texted. You could practically feel Penelope smirk as you turned your attention back on the TV. Unable to focus but pretending to. “Spence is not one for texting. He probably has been getting to the hotel at ungodly hours and hasn’t had time to call.” it was like she could read your mind. “Don’t do that.” You said with a shudder. “Do what?” Penelope questioned innocently. “Read my mind like that. It’s weird.” You answered, making her laugh. “Just goes to show how well I know you.” She answered with a smile. It was true. She knew you too well you would even argue. The fact both of you were women in a male dominated field, both dressed eccentricly, and both with a passion for cheesy movies and tv shows. It was only a matter of time until you were best friends after your first run in.
Your phone, which was placed on the table, lit up at that moment. The ringtone played at a high volume, making the cure blast through the room. Your eyes quickly flickered to the screen. Caller ID unknown. You picked up the phone, hesitant of the unknown caller, deciding to hang up instead. You had been plagued by telemarketers for the past month and really didn’t want to deal with that right now. If it was important they would call again. And they did, you still had your phone in your hands when it went off again. “Just pick it up! I will keep watch over our show, fill you in later.” Penelope said, motioning her hands for you to get up. You got off the couch, soft blanket falling to the ground as you picked up the phone. Softly padding away to the kitchen to be out of earshot of Penelope. “Y/n speaking.” you answered, waiting to hear from the other end of the line. “Hey… ehm… is this not the right time? Are you busy?” The voice on the other end of the line made you straighten up slightly in surprise. “Doctor Reid.” You breathe out his name quietly, adding a “Now is a perfectly good time.” to your sentence. Wondering how hearing his voice through the slightly tin-like phone speaker made you feel a little flutter in your stomach. “Good… I didn’t want to bother you. You can just call me Spencer by the way. Doctor sounds too formal. I just introduce myself like that. It’s a habit. I don’t call you Doctor L/n either. So call me Spencer.” He started rambling. A smile spread across your lips, this rambly version was different from how speechless he had been in the lab. You held back a giggle. Apparently you had rendered him speechless in the lab. “Alright, Spencer.” You answered, the humor in your voice apparent. His breath hitched a little on the other side of the line. 
“Why did you call?” You asked, trying to continue on without dawdling. “Oh eh, the report, I ehm…” He was quiet for a moment. It crossed your mind that maybe he didn’t need to speak with you, but he wanted to. “Yes?” You urged after a silence had fallen on the other side of the phone line. There was an intake of breath from Spencer, a moment that signaled he might be trying to raise some courage. “I didn’t want to talk about the report.” He finally spoke. It made you smile, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “Oh, well then what did you want to talk about?” You added a bit of playfulness in your tone. You pictured him, holding the phone to his ears that were tipped red. His face was probably just as flushed as it had been in the lab. 
“I ehm- I haven’t been able to focus, on the case that is. Because I keep thinking about the lab. How I probably came off as a mess, I just didn’t know what to say because you looked so… Not that you look bad because you don’t, you looked really nice. Emily says my IQ gets slashed down to 68 when I am around pretty girls. I wanted to make a good impression. I couldn’t find the words though. I usually don’t make great first impressions, because I tend to ramble. Just- I really really hope I didn’t make a bad first impression.” His sentences flowed into each other like word vomit. Nervous, quick, and hardly understandable. Luckily, you were trained in the art of understanding nervous rambles when Penelope would spiral into one from time to time. However he had called you pretty. “Spencer.” You said his name almost like a question. There was a beat of silence. “Yes?” He asked softly, he sounded so nervous.
“You didn’t make a bad impression. I gave you my number for a reason.” You told him with a smile, a little giddy as the words ‘he called me pretty’ kept bouncing around your head. “And I am sorry I called without any real reason to… I know it was for talking about the report. Though Morgan tried to convince me it wasn’t.” Spencer answered. You rolled your eyes at that. Ofcourse, this hyper intelligent man would mix up what you were trying to do. “I gave you my number because I wanted you to call me. Not about the report. I just wanted you to call me. About anything.” There was apparently a need to clear up that confusion. It was silent for another moment. “Oh.” It was like realization dawned on him. “So I should have called sooner, right?” His question made you laugh softly, trying not to clue in Penelope on your call.  “Yes, you should have. Or could have at least. I was waiting.” You answered back, smiling at the ground. You fidgeted with one of the large rings on your free hand, twisting the cool metal round with your thumb.
“I’m sorry I didn’t.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. The slight uptick in his pitch. You imagined he was still fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater, or was perhaps looking at his shoes with a grin. “You can make it up to me by buying me a coffee when you get back.” The suggestion came naturally, you didn’t even have to think about it. The words left your lips before you could, really. “What do you like?” Spencer asked without hesitation. “Cinnamon latte.” You answered it softly, a little surprised he agreed so readily. A giddy feeling in your stomach. “Alright, cinnamon latte, I’ll remember.” Spencer sounded a little breathy, like he too was feeling giddy at the prospects of having coffee together. Like the idea of taking time to get to know each other at work over a warm beverage was the perfect first date. “What do you like?” You asked in turn, wanting to know what he would usually get. Knowing more about him would feel so domestic and sweet. “Black coffee, usually with tons of sugar.” He had a hint of embarrassment in your voice. A little muffled like he had covered his mouth to hold in the confession of drinking it so sweet. You smiled at his answer. Of course he had a sweet tooth. “Tons of sugar, I’ll remember.” You mirrored his words. 
“Oh! My! God!” You heard Penelope gasp from the living room. Knocking you out of your little phone call bubble with Spencer. “I think I have to go. You better call me tomorrow.” You said it lightheartedly. Just wanting to hear from him again soon. “I will. I’ll call you.” Spencer answered. “Bye Spencer.” “Bye Y/n.” You hung up with a smile, already turning and walking back into the living room. Penelope turned around on the couch to look at you, “They shot Richard!” She looked absolutely shocked as she gave you the news of your favorite character being hurt. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face though. “Spencer called.” You saw her face form from a shocked to surprise expression, “Oh! My! God!” She sounded a lot happier that time, and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of it.
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sprytesukii · 2 days
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you know me (better than i know myself)
bakugou katsuki x reader
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katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.
rating: mature, 18+, MDNI
wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)
tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T
an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)
read on ao3
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the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.
“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”
the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.
“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.
he feels like he might die.
“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”
there it is. fuckin’ kaito.
katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.
part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.
of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.
bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.
he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.
and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.
it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.
perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.
katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.
too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.
but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.
that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.
but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.
he’s moving out.
he’ll be gone forever.
subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.
fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.
“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”
the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.
he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.
katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.
it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.
he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.
fuck.
with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.
“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”
the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.
“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“
katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.
he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.
he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.
he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.
it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.
by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.
kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.
it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.
he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.
nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.
he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.
a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.
(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.
he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.
EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><
katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.
EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you
he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)
the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.
a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.
the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.
it’s sustainable until it isn’t.
a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”
it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.
at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.
most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.
the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.
his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.
it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.
izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.
a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.
when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.
he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.
izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.
“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”
a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.
“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.
with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.
now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.
“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”
katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.
“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.
he never deserved any of it.
with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.
“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).
“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”
maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.
if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.
katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.
izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).
“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.
he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”
the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.
they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.
katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.
the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.
when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.
after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.
that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.
he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.
katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.
the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.
he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.
he posts an ad on craigslist that night.
the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.
“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”
the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.
the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.
katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.
something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.
“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.
the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.
“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”
denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”
he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.
the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.
in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.
katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?
ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested
ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td
ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry
ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back
ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while
ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever
katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.
he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.
katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.
you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.
you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.
you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.
it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.
“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.
you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.
“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.
pretty.
“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”
katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.
“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”
you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.
“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.
“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.
what the fuck?
in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”
your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.
the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.
a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.
katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.
suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.
it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.
“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.
your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.
“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”
the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.
“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”
your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.
the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.
you agree.
the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.
your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.
(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.
“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”
you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)
your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.
(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)
your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.
(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.
“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.
“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”
your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)
the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.
he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.
after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.
you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.
but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.
“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.
“fuck no.”
“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”
and that’s that.
you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.
it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.
occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.
it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.
“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.
“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.
“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”
what the fuck.
katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.
he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.
he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.
katsuki would not dream of stopping you.
it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.
(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.
you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.
“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)
katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.
you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.
when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.
katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.
your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.
“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.
the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.
it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.
it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.
he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.
it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.
the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.
fuck.
katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.
he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.
“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”
katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.
(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.
katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.
“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.
denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.
“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)
katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.
kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.
“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.
the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”
his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.
at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.
he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.
“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.
“i was in love with you.”
the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.
“wha- bakugou, what?”
“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”
kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.
“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”
katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”
kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.
“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.
katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.
“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”
katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”
kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”
after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?
he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.
“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.
“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”
katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.
“i think i’m in love with them.”
kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.
“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.
“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.
he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.
kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.
katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.
his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.
he’s home.
you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.
katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.
you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.
he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.
you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.
“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”
katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.
you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.
“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.
“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.
a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”
it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.
the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.
katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.
these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.
he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.
he thinks it’s his.
you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.
katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.
“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”
his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”
and that he does.
katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.
the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.
“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.
he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.
or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.
“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.
you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”
katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”
you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”
“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.
he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.
a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.
“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.
your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.
“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.
“nah.”
“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.
“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.
“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.
he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.
you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.
he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.
you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.
“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?
katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.
your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.
“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.
“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.
“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.
if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.
“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.
he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.
of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.
“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.
he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.
his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.
after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.
you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.
“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.
you know, though. you always do.
“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.
by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.
“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.
speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.
“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.
you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.
“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.
he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.
“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.
he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”
you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.
katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.
“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”
even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.
he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.
the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.
you already know.
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sukunasteeth · 1 day
Text
Wrestle Me
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Tokyo had reached record temperatures that day. The sun was roasting the city, every street was a mirage from the bending light of its shine. The weather recently had been sending everyone either inside or to the nearest water source.
Yuji had gone to the beach with Megumi and Nobara in a futile attempt to escape the heat that had Japan in the sweaty palm of its hand. They had offered you and Sukuna a spot on the railway car there, but you knew that Sukuna was too exhausted from his recent missions to do any sort of going out. Not to mention the draining effect of the heat stacked on top of that. You were in the mood to just enjoy each other's presence.
The two of you were sheltered away in the darkness of his bedroom, lying sprawled out across the floor in front of his small rotating fan. Sukuna and Yuji never turned the A/C on. Since they had moved into their own apartment, the brothers had become rather stingy when it came to the bills. The air didn't start up until the room felt like a sauna, and it turned off much too soon to give relief.
Sweat continued to drip down the both of your spines, but Sukuna didn't seem to mind it. He was enjoying the peace of his day off, dressed against the heat in nothing but his boxer briefs and a tank top. He had his head resting in the cushion of your lap, his eyes were transfixed on an old leather notebook that he had stolen from one of the professors a few days ago. It was in a language you hadn't taken at the academy yet, but Sukuna tells you it was early notes on jujutsu from the old world.
You had been scrolling through your phone, occasionally showing him something you found amusing or anything that reminded you of him. He only gave you a reaction to maybe 10% of the material, but it was fun to see him roll his eyes, or scoff and wave your phone away.
The longer you remained in the same spot,however, the sweatier you felt and the more frustrated with the heat. You tried not to squirm under Sukuna's head, remaining as still as possible as though he were a sleeping animal taking refuge on your lap. Boredom, however, eventually pulls the last straw that has you stirring.
An idea comes to mind.
Sukuna glances up at you, as though he expects you to show him something else on your phone, but instead his attention is caught by the mischievous glint you feel twinkling in your eye.
"Wrestle me." You beam at him.
It was somewhat of a joke.
Compared to your boyfriend, it was clear who would win in a pinning tournament between the two of you.
 Sukuna, who enjoys kickboxing in his spare time. Sukuna, who has never missed an opportunity for a fight in the decade that you've known him, who could dead-lift your torso with ease if he so desired.
Sukuna, who has never touched you with anything but heart wrenching gentleness.
His eyes widen at your command, the notebook he had previously found so interesting has been completely forgotten. He seems to catch the drift of your lack of entertainment, and quickly plays along. His surprise melts into an amused little smile.
"Oh yeah? Think you got a chance, kid?" He taunts, placing the book beside him. His attention now fully focused on you.
You snort, you were only a year younger than he was, but he loved to emphasize it when he could. Sukuna mistakes your noise as a scoff and cocks a daring brow at you.
You love when he’s in a playful mood.
"I could take you any day." You tease. Part of you is running for the hills inside, but another part is having fun with the big bad wolf. That was the constant state you were in with him. Sukuna didn't even have to try and he always had your heart racing.
Sukuna makes an impressed noise, "That, I'm well aware of. I don't know about in a fight, though."
You groan at his joke, shaking your head in disappointment, but Sukuna grabs onto your chin before you can get even one turn of your head out.
"Let's find out."  
~
Ten minutes later, you're drenched in twice the amount of sweat as you were before, but Sukuna has barely lost a drop. He's got you twisted like a pretzel beneath him, holding your limbs in just the right way so that you're completely incapacitated in his hands.
Your first mistake was thinking Sukuna knew how to play-fight. The only person he had been remotely close with in your childhood was his twin brother, and the two of them had often "wrestled", but it only ended when one of them had blood dripping out of their noses. You learned early on not to question it. Having two boys as your childhood best friends had you turning your gaze from a lot of things, in fact.
The only thing you questioned now, was how you were going to get out of your current predicament. You were sure Sukuna was having a blast practically hogtying you with his hands, and now he knew how easy it was to get you in this position. It was a double whammy that would surely effect you in the future. 
"Did you really think I'd go easy on you?" The weight of his chest presses into your back as he leans over you, sending hot breath over your neck. "How cute."
"Okay, okay! I give!" You whine, trying to wriggle out from beneath him. You had to admit that it was getting slightly painful, but Sukuna was well aware of your pressure points and where to stay away from. You still had one last trick up your sleeve, however.
Satisfied with your surrender, he nips at your ear with his teeth before he slides off of you and relinquishes his effortless grip. Before he can fully turn away, however, you're leaping onto his back like a monkey and tackling him into his mattress. It was a dirty tactic, but you had been wrestling your childhood best friend Yuji since the two of you were in elementary school, so you were no stranger to tricks of the trade. Especially the feign defeat card.
He blinks up at you. It was a difficult task to take Sukuna off guard, but you had accomplished it.
"Sucker." You playfully stick your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Inside your chest, your heart is racing like a hummingbird’s wings. It’s almost like Sukuna knows this, because even though you’re the one on top of him, he’s still looking at you with an amused grin- unaffected by your change of position. 
"You have a higher pain tolerance than I thought you did." He notes, tilting his head to the side like he's considering something. "What can we do with that new information, I wonder?" 
It was another intimidation tactic. A good one. It had chills running down your spine. But, you weren’t going to let him win so easily this time. Suddenly, you were interested in how far you could push him, as well. 
"Come on 'Kuna," You chide, your nose is practically touching his- a rabbit pressing against the snout of a hungry wolf. "Can't take defeat, my love?"
"Oh doll," His voice is a husky drawl, rough hands slide their way from their resting places on your hips to slip under the hem of your shirt and brush the skin of your waist. You try to contain your shiver. "You're playing a very dangerous game."
One last wave of confidence sweeps through you as you lean down, just like he always did, to murmur lowly into his ear. "And you're losing."
That did it.
Sukuna grabs onto your waist so quickly, you barely have time to register it before he loops his leg around your knee and easily flips the two of you back to your original position. You're giggling beneath him as he gathers your face into his hands, pressing calloused fingers into your cheeks. You've gotten under his impenetrable skin. You didn't know it, but you always did.
No matter how strong a man is, he will always lose to the woman he loves.
Sukuna was slowly starting to accept that.
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sulumuns-dootah · 1 day
Text
WHB Kings meeting their Obey Me! counterparts
A/N: I try to not pit/compare these two games against each other, but as someone who was into Obey Me! (and still is) and found out about WHB thanks to it, i need to get this out of my system.
⟡ Masterlist ⟡
The scenario is that OM!Solomon messed up some spell and made Obey Me! and What in Hell is bad? universes interconnect and our demon kings get to meet their other version. (I only included those kings that we've already met in WHB - when we get Belphie and Asmo, I might make part 2)
      ༺☆༻
Lucifer
Their meeting is the calmest and most civilised out of all of them.
They don't really talk outside of formal greeting and some polite small talk
Oh, but on the inside? OM!Lucifer is internally appalled by the amount of skin that's WHB!Lucifer showing
WHB!Lucifer is really wondering who this Diavolo guy is, since OM!Lucifer managed to mention him in their little small talk about ten times
OM!Lucifer excuses himself after some time to go make sure his brothers don't do anything stupid while meeting their counterpart
      ༺☆༻
Mammon
Oh
Oh no
This can go in two ways: OM!Mammon's ego gets absolutely crushed (there seems to be a pattern with WHB!Mammon) and just doesn't talk at all, just moping around while trying to look intimidating or he tries to get some treasures off WHB!Mammon since they're technically the same guy and he can definitely trust that he won't sell it to repay his debts
In the second case OM!Lucifer storms in and stops any of his attempts
That entertains WHB!Mammon though, and so he does give OM!Mammon some worthless (read: expensive, but not that rare) treasures
That lights up OM!Mammon's eyes and he doesn't shut up about it for the next century
      ༺☆༻
Leviathan
Well this goes even worse than the Mammons meeting
OM!Leviathan tries to keep his composure, but fails
The envy is strong in this one and some Lovecraftian horrors might get summoned
OM!Leviathan now has more reasons to put himself down, good luck OM!MC with this one
WHB!Leviathan has a hard time believing that that's him from different universe. What went wrong?
But it does make him feel better. He was worried that this other Leviathan would look better than him and beat him at one of the things he's best at
If OM!Lucifer manages to calm OM!Leviathan, they might be able to bond over their use of bathtubs, but no promises
      ༺☆༻
Beelzebub
WHB!Beelzebub expected a lot, but not this
He's not horny? He just loves to eat food so much he even eats inedible objects like pillars of buildings?
Though, he does now wonder how that tastes
OM!Beelzebub tries to not judge WHB!Beelzebub just based on looks, but can't help himself to see how thin he is. Does he even eat at all?
Also, what are those gemstones and how would they taste?
The huge word 'FEED' on WHB!Beelzebub's coat reminds him that he hasn't eaten in a while
The moment WHB!Beelzebub mentions about his hobby in cooking, OM!Beelzebub is on board and on the way to the nearest kitchen
Interestingly enough, the aphrodisiac effects don't seem to be working on OM!Beelzebub, so he just enjoys the meal, but secretly wishes it was Barbatos' cooking instead
      ༺☆༻
Satan
'What do you mean Lucifer is your father?'
These two have hard time accepting that they're technically the same demon.
WHB!Satan is disappointed. He expected someone more scary than horned chicken impersonator. What's that boa about? How do you fight angels in that?
OM!Satan tries to stay calm and not loose his temper when WHB!Satan teases his about his clothing. Somehow he manages.
WHB!Satan is surprisingly more talkative than with most demons. They're the same demon after all and therefore they face the same difficulties, no?
OM!Satan is glad to hear that his other self is favored by his people. The pain kink though? He could do without knowing that, really.
      ༺☆༻
A bonus! ^^
Barbatos
OM!Barbatos is trying to stay as calm and professional as possible, but can't help but wonder what on earth is that noose for
When he finds out it's to show loyalty for his master, he gets calmer
When he finds out that it does actually gets used for hanging, he's back to slight panic mode
WHB!Barbatos doesn't like OM!Barbatos from the beginning. How does one absorb sunlight in so much clothes? No wonder he's so pale and seemingly tired all the time.
All these gloomy colors make him sad. It's almost like this other Barbatos sucked all the color out of the room.
OM!Barbatos is appaled to find out about WHB!Barbatos' interests, but feels intrigued. If the sun ever came up in Devildom, he would try sunbathing, albeit more modestly dressed.
169 notes · View notes
sc0tters · 2 days
Text
Dreams Come True | Trevor Zegras
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summary: Trevor shows you just how competitive he can get when you get cozy with Jack
request: yes/no
warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving), light bondage, swearing.
word count: 4.75k
authors note: it’s the way that the last time I wrote for him was in part one… so it was safe to say I was a little rusty with Trevor and natural sought the help of the woman who writes him better than anyone else @sweetestdesire so let’s thank her both helping this fic and inspiring portions of it! I’m starting to behave with my endings, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still have my fun 😏
pt 1
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Trevor was pissed off.
He had won a massive game against the devils and all he was meant to do was come home and celebrate. The boy had invited you along to the game and you were meant to be his guest, yet somehow you were in the flurry of red.
Sure Trevor knew Jack was disappointed after the game but you were meant to be congratulating him for winning. Not standing hugging Jack as you told him how proud you were of his effort. You had always had a soft spot for the boy feeling bad for him after the rough rookie season he had.
Yet none of that seemed to matter as Trevor glared at the Hughes boy when you laughed at one of his jokes, because what could have been that funny? Jack eventually noticed the sharp looks that were being sent his way “something happen between you and Z?” He furrowed his eyebrows motioning to the boy who was still staring at you both.
It made you frown as you locked eyes with Trevor “nothing has happened.” Your cheeks grew warm remembering how you woke up to him after your wet dream “you sure?” Jack teased remembering how you used to have a crush on Trevor when you guys were kids.
It made you scoff as you sent him a playful glare “Jack I think I would know if something happened to me.” You shot back letting out a giggle as the boy pulled you into a hug “just making sure you’re keeping me in the loop.” He mumbled kissing your head in the process.
The middle Hughes boy always did have a soft spot for you “kid we are going now.” Trevor’s announced causing your head to snap in his direction “talk soon?” You asked looking at the younger boy who nodded with a smile.
He squeezed your side “keep him out of trouble.” Jack teased you causing a giggle to erupt from your lips “you want to go or get a cab?” Trevor’s rolled his eyes at the joke reminding you that he was waiting.
That was all it took for you to leave the Hughes boy “c’mon don’t be too grumpy with me now.” You joked growing concerned as he stood there refusing to look at you “what makes you think I’m grumpy?”Trevor grumbled as he still made sure to open the door to let you out first.
Yet you stood there solid as you crossed your arms “tell me why you’re irritated and then we can go.” You shot back causing a smirk to form on his face “I just think if you want to go support him then you should be wearing red.” Trevor looked to your jersey as you were in one of his old ones.
Your hands fixed the front of it as you furrowed your eyebrows “I was just being a good friend to Jack.” You pointed out in a duh tone “look let’s just go home.” Trevor’s sighed as he wiped his palms on his shorts.
It felt like a game of back and forth as you didn’t want to concede first “fucking move before I throw you over my shoulder.” The boy warned as he took a step closer to you “you wouldn’t dare.” You shook your head not believing that he had it in him.
But of course that was your first mistake. Within seconds Trevor crouched down and wrapped his arms around your hips lifting you up over his shoulder “Trevor!” You squealed clenching your fists as you banged them against his back “warned ya.” He shrugged with a smirk as the feeling of your hands against his back was nothing.
He carried you to the car with little debate “can you put me down?” You huffed finally giving up as you just let him carry you “you finally going to stop being a brat?” He cocked his head dropping your feet when he got to his car.
It made a smile form on your lips “never.” You felt his hands slide to your shoulders as he stepped closer to you “you’re a little shit you know that right?” He clicked his tongue trying to act irritated.
A laugh left your lips as you nodded “but that’s why you love me ain’t it?” You cocked your head as he sighed “just get in please.” His voice was softer as his facial expressions grew gentle.
This time you instead opted to listen “okay.” You nodded causing him to let out a sigh of relief as he wasn’t going to have to fight you on it “please remind me why I am best friends with her brother.” Trevor’s mumbled to himself once he shut your sides car door.
The ride back to his place was awkward. You kept your eyes glued to the window beside you as it seemed Trevor still didn’t want to talk about what pissed him off “Z?” Your voice was barely above a whisper when you heard him turn the key shutting the ignition off.
He felt guilty picturing you moaning that on his couch when you had that dream. It was something neither one of you opted to talk about and the feelings were only now starting to bubble out about it “are you really mad at me?” Concerned flashed over your face as the dim lights of the parking building made your eyes shine when you looked at him.
You were spending the night with him again but needed to know you were okay “I’m never mad at you.” He shook his head as his hands wrapped around slid to your lap “don’t like having to share you.” Trevor’s confessed as he ran his thumb over your thigh.
It made your breath cut as you turned your body even closer to his “you don’t share me.” You pointed out as you sent him a smile “not if you don’t want to.” You mumbled swearing that the car was getting even hotter.
Those words were like music to his ears “you get to shoot me when I say you’re not mine alone.” Trevor cupped your cheek as he smiled “then I think you should make me yours Z.” You gasped feeling his lips finally meet yours.
It was like this moment that made your brain go numb, enjoying the way his touch made your body feel on fire. He let his free hand tug at your body, almost as if he was worried that you were going to leave. His touch was careful until your own hand scratched at his chest allowing his taste to captivate you as it danced on your tongue “Z.” You moaned feeling shivers travel through your body.
His mumbled grunt had you ready to into his arm “god I need you.” He blurted out deciding that his cock was becoming too painful against his suit pants. The boy watched you nod as you looked around you both “c’mon I’m not fucking you in my car yet.” Trevor’s words filled you with anticipation as your imagination ran wild thinking of all the different possibilities fun you could have with him.
Even as he was focused on the discomfort in his pants he still found the time to open your door for you “such a sweet boy.” You teased getting up as the boy rolled his eyes “yeah, yeah move along now.” He grumbled holding his duffel bag in one hand and his other wrapped around your waist spinning you around as he held your ass pressed against his cock.
Your breath faltered at the feeling his hair against your neck “be a good girl and walk ahead okay?” Trevor sucked at your ear lobe causing your body to shake in response “okay.” You forced the words from your lips as you bit at the inside of your cheek.
He smirked to himself as he clicked his tongue as you stayed still “you want to get a move on now or?” The hockey player teased pressing a kiss against your cheek. Your hands gripped at his coat tugging him along with you “god baby you’re so pretty tonight.” He confessed finally allowing his hands to leave your waist when the doors to the elevator shut. Your back was pressed against the mirror before you knew it, leaving you grateful that it was just the two of you in there.
Once hating how you wore his jersey so freely now Trevor couldn’t get enough of the sight “just tonight?” You giggled allowing your hands to travel to his waistband“and here I was thinking I was the girl of your dreams.” Your lips formed a playful pout seeing how his cheeks went flushed.
The stereotypical elevator music played in your ears “you know you are.” The hockey player trapped you in with one hand by your side and the other took one of your own “this is all for you princess.” He announced cupping your hand over his hardon.
His aftershave was sickeningly sweet as it invaded your nostrils “you’re gonna get me in so much trouble.” You announced hearing the door opened with a ding, signalling that you guys had made it to his floor “c’mon.” He ushered you out interlacing his hand with yours.
This time when you walked out to the familiar landscape of the hallway yet now you looked around like this was a foreign place where your heart pounded out of your chest “you getting cold feet on me now?” Trevor teased squeezing your hand as you shook your head “gonna have to do a lot more to keep me away pretty boy.” You mumbled pecking his lips before you got to his door.
It was as though the boy didn’t want to lose your hand as it was you who had to let go of his. He was then quick to fish his keys out of his jacket pocket letting you both into his place. The feeling of his lips was left on yours like a loved up couple dancing around your lips “you don’t know how happy I am to finally get you.” Trevor let his bag drop to the floor as a grin painted across your face.
He loved how responsive you were as he kissed you again. Now any potential fears that he might have had of people watching the sight left his mind and the only thing Trevor could think about was you. Your taste was enough to make him want more. His hands clawed at your jeans as the two of you acted like horny teenagers needing each other like oxygen.
Moans left your lips in place of air as your hands tugged at his hair “jump.” He ordered sliding his hands down the curve of your ass to support your weight. You didn’t need to be told twice crossing your legs around his hips as your tongue grazed over his lip “need you.” You pleaded pulling away as you let your forehead rest against his.
It held your desperate moment as you whimpered “c’mon then.” He mumbled carrying you to his room. The path had always been engraved in your mind but tonight you couldn’t help but think back to your dream and how his hands now felt perfect against you.
The boy had the same thoughts through his mind as he smiled letting you drop to his bed “what. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Do?” He asked between the kisses he used to attack your jaw.
It made your breath shake as your eyes watched him nestle between your thighs “I want you to tell me what you think of in that pretty little mind of yours.” Trevor explained letting a smile form on his lips as your cheeks turned red “I know you think about me making you feel good doll.” His words were enough to make you squirm.
Ever since that day when he caught you mid dream you hadn’t been able to forget about it, often finding ways to elaborate on your memories “you make me feel so good.” You whimpered feeling your skin grow warm “with your tongue first.” The latter was barely audible as a spark shone in his eyes.
It was like this bright gleam as he smirked “so I do take you for more than one round?” He teased tracing his hands dangerously close to the hem of your jersey “and when do I get you out of these?” As his cock throbbed in his pants Trevor was desperate to get a move on.
Your eyes flickered to your jeans “these went first.” You revealed making him nod “you gonna let me?” You should have been ashamed by the way that you desperately nodded.
He undid the button of your jeans and pulled down the zipper as he watched you catch your lip between your teeth “you’re so fucking pretty.” Trevor’s reminded you taking the chance to kiss your lips once more. The boy adored his responsive you were to him as the little alcohol you drank that night made his brain feel fuzzy.
Even as you had grown to have feelings for him over the years. you were still just as comfortable with this version of him as you were with the one who would steal food from your plate, when he’d sit on top of you acting like you weren’t there. Trevor watched you smile when he took that moment to go back to what he was doing “cute.” He teased seeing the blue checkered print on your panties.
A laugh left his lips as he watched you roll your eyes “you know Jack would have fucked me by now.” You knew that you were now playing a dangerous game but somehow you didn’t mind as you sent him a glare “then I think it’s about time I get you out of my jersey.” The hockey player emphasised his reminder of whose number was on your back.
Trevor’s movements were powered by irritation and his natural competitiveness also had him wanting to prove her wrong “think you knew you were gonna get fucked tonight didn’t you?” Trevor’s smirked seeing your matching set “but I guess I should ask by who?” He sucked his teeth as he couldn’t help but feel jealous about how your bra got to hug your breasts on an everyday occurrence.
You could have told him the truth but instead you felt like the secrets of your third addition to your dreams should be kept to yourself “you.” You squirmed feeling like head staring into your soul.
As his hands hooked into your panties you wanted him with intent “god you’re going to kill me.” You whined as the cold air came in contact with your cunt “like making you work for your reward.” He teased shuffling down his bed to get comfortable.
Trevor couldn’t help but lick his lips “god you’re a fucking beaut.” The boy mumbled as he kissed at your thighs. Equally spreading his attention between the two “fuck please.” You begged running your fingers over your stomach.
The neediness that glazed your eyes was enough to make him nod. His head dropped allowing him to lick a stripe up her slot. If this was anyone else you would have hated naked you were. Yet instead you shuddered the moment his tongue came in contact with your clit. All those late nights with nothing more than your vibrator and your imagination were put to shame by the needy boy who lay in front of you.
Your hands trailed to his hair desperately attempting to claw at something “don’t stop.” You mewled scrunching your toes in pleasure as his tongue dropped into your core. His nose teased your clit occasionally hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Trevor watched in awe as he fucked your soaked cunt with his tongue treating you like a final meal as his arms wrapped around your thighs. Your eyes locked with his and you swore he took it as a challenge, like he wasn’t hitting the right spots as your eyes were still open.
The moment his head tilted allowing his tongue to reach a point that was deeper within you, you knew you were a goner. Your thighs began to shake as they pressed against the sides of his head “you’re gonna make me come.” You cried using the little focus you had available to drive your hips against his face constantly angling for him to continue hitting your g-spot.
Trevor moaned at the feeling of your cunt clenching around his tongue “just like that.” You pleaded unaware of how tears formed in your waterline as you were lead to your first orgasm that you hadn’t given yourself in months.
Your moans and cries bounced off of his bedroom walls preparing them for the stories that they would surely hold from tonight’s activities “Jesus Trevor oh.” Your lips formed a circle as your eyes screwed shut leaving your body to squirm still driving your hips to his mouth.
The hockey player swore he was dreaming as your salty release landed on his tongue and he continued to lap it up until you clearly began to lose it “no Z.” You mumbled trying to pull away from him when he let his tongue lay flat against your clit pressing a kiss to the sensitive nub before he pulled away.
There was a moment he took where he just sat there with a smirk on his face admiring the work that he had done already “you gonna let me continue making you feel so good?” He muttered honestly wondering if he had it within himself to behave until that point.
A mewl left your lips in delight as his hands tugged at the straps of your bra not caring for the fact that he had managed to rip it “Trevor!” You groaned feeling the elastic shoot against your skin “sorry doll.” His amused tone highlighted how he was anything but that “I’ll buy you another.” The hockey player offered adding seeing that hushed words did barely enough make you feel better so instead he pressed a kiss to your temple.
Your breasts bounced the moment they were released from your bra “‘s not fair you ain’t naked too.” You complained seeing his suit still on him “life ain’t fair doll.” He teased running his hands along your torso until her breasts.
A huff left your lips as his thumbs grazed your nipples “you want to know who would have been naked?” You asked watching his face hover over yours as it tilted practically edging you to answer “Jack.” The name was like a weight that hit Trevor like an anvil. The jab was a taunt and now he was left to decide how to react.
His response was to pinch your stiff peaks, letting the bud roll between his fingers “you really think he’d have you feeling as good as I do?” The hockey player let out a grunt as he rolled his eyes “uh huh.” You couldn’t allow yourself to back down now.
He had this constant desire to outcompete Jack was bubbling through his system. After seeing her so close to Jack that night, Trevor knew that he had one chance to fix it all once and for all to become the outright favourite. His sharp gaze made you force your thighs together as his nimble fingers tugged at his shirt.
The tie that once complimented his neck was now long gone as he threw it onto his navy comforter “can’t believe you’re still such a brat even after all that I do for you.” He grumbled picking it back up once he saw how your eyes sparkled seeing it “arms.” Trevor pushed his hands together showing you what to do.
Part of you was confused enough that you listened pushing your wrists together “up.” The cool metal of his bed frame was freezing against your skin causing your lips to form an o “since you want to act like such a brat you don’t get touch me.” His words were met with a whimper as you went to complain “you cry about it and I’m sure you’re gonna love the taste of your pretty little panties in your mouth.” Trevor warned making you gulp as you began to think about his offer.
Once you remained silent he instead looked to continue pulling his clothes off “not a brat.” You mumbled looking to his comforter “so you won’t mind me fucking his name right out of your mouth?” The boy was serious as his boxers were the final addition to the clothing pile that had formed on his floor.
Trevor fiddled through his bedside cabinet to get a condom from the box “would have fucked you raw but not even you deserve that much.” He grumbled to himself tearing the metallic wrapper to reveal the latex element. His cock throbbed feeling the air of the room around him “god please just fuck me already.” You pleaded kicking your legs as you felt helpless not being able to move your arms.
He laughed as he rolled the condom over his cock “how can I say no when you ask so nicely.” The hockey player cooed crawling back onto the bed as you pulled your legs up spreading them for him to get a view of your soaking desperate cunt “I’m ready to fuck his name right outta your mouth.” Trevor’s voice was so low that you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or not.
You nodded chewing at the inside of your cheek “will believe it when I see it.” If there was a hole then you were digging yourself into it “you’re lucky I have been picturing fucking this cunt for years.” He grunted running his covered cock over your slit teasing your clit causing a moan to leave your lips.
Trevor like you had these dreams at night and his hand with the memory of your moans were now no longer enough to make him come “jesus fuck.” You gasped as your cunt stretched around his cock “it’s just me doll.” His hands found themselves by your sides as he kissed you letting the vibe grow soft like he genuinely cared.
Maybe it was for the fact that you were currently full with his cock but this time you couldn’t argue back “please move.” Your hands tugged at his tie finally feeling stretched out “you feel like heaven.” Trevor groaned beginning to settle into a rhythm.
He enjoyed watching how your body bounced with each creak of the headboard.
Your eyes trailed down his body taking snapshots of his chiseled chest. He smirked picking up how your mouth watered at the sight of his throbbing cock thrusting into you “like keeping those pretty little eyes on me huh?” The boy teased angling his thrusts upward to get a deeper angle.
The room got hot as you whimpered “fuck you feel so good.” Your legs snaked around his hips refusing to let him go “you know I’m the only one who makes you feel this good right?” He murmured running his tongue along your jaw.
It made you shiver as your breasts throbbed “answer the question before I stop.” Trevor raised his hand to slap your thigh making you moan “only you z.” You nodded feeling your wrists grow sore with how you tugged at the restraints.
But that wasn’t enough for him as he let his hand slot between your two bodies “only I what?” He taunted you letting his fingers ghost over your clit “fuck me like this.” You mewled feeling your legs begin to shake.
Hearing those words were like music to his ears “guess I should let you touch me then?” Trevor proposed making you nod desperately “god please yes.” You should have been embarrassed by how desperate you were for him to let you touch him.
A whine left your lips as you felt his hand leave your clit “relax you brat.” He scoffed rolling his eyes “I’m giving you what you want so behave.” Trevor’s snapped making you nod as you went silent watching his hand claw at his tie undoing the knots.
The moment your hands were free they pulled his face down to yours. It was a needy kiss that you finally took control of as you took him by surprise “still such a needy girl even with my cock for her to fuck.” The vulgar words made you clench around him “you think he could have gotten you feeling like this?” The hockey player groaned as his head dropped to your shoulder for his lips to nip at the soft skin.
Jack was the last thing on your mind as you shook your head as your hands moved to his back letting your nails claw at him “no.” You shook your head making Trevor use the little energy he head left to look back up at you “what was that I couldn’t hear you?” He taunted applying more pressure to your clit as his hips snapped into you.
Your mouth opened ready for the cries to leave your lips yet you were silent only letting the soft gasps push past your lips “you keep fucking me so well.” You blurted out not having tome to care about how dirty your words truly were.
It made him groan as he soaked your words up like a sponge “shit.” He felt his pace increase as the squelching sounds from your cunt echoed in his ears “I’m close.” You confessed letting your eyes screw shut as the room grew even hotter.
Your skin was slick with sweat and you were sure to have been a mess “stick your tongue out for me baby.” He ordered as you nodded feeling your breasts hit his skin.
Your tongue rolled out of your mouth awaiting further instructions “such a good listener.” The boy praised causing your cunt to clench around him again.
Trevor swore he was going to come when his spit left his mouth. It was a sticky string that connected your mouth to his “now swallow.” He brushed his thumb over your lower lip breaking the saliva trail as he placed his thumb in your mouth.
On instinct your tongue swirled around the digit listening to his orders as he smirked “good girl.” Trevor murmured as he felt you begin to ride your hips into his “go milk my cock baby.” The words made you cry as your thighs began to shake.
His attacks on your clit pushed you over the edge “god please don’t stop!” You pleaded feeling your chest heave “doll keep your eyes on me when you come.” As his hips snapped into yours you couldn’t but listen.
Your eyes stared into his as you moaned “right there!” You gritted out in delight making him nod as you finally came. White points coated your vision as your body thrashed around letting your cunt clamp down around his cock.
Just like that his head dropped back down to your shoulder “such a tight perfect cunt f’me.” Trevor cooed feeling his cock twitch coating his release into his condom as you squeezed his cock one final time.
The two of you lay there embracing each other’s hold as you both focused on your breathing and your fingers brushed through his hair “you wanted a bath princess?” Trevor offered rolling off of you as he feared he didn’t have the energy to simply pull out.
He had to snap his fingers in front of you in order to get you to respond “since when are you into aftercare?” You let out an amused laugh clearly not believing that it was something he was capable of “just for that I have to show you.” Trevor shot back scooping you into his arms before you could complain.
It made him smile as you wrapped your arms around him “I just want to be proved wrong.” You teased making him laugh as he opened the door to his bathroom bringing you both into there.
Whilst the sounds of laughter and running water came from the bathroom what neither of you noticed was that a message came through to your phone. One that would surely lead to more harm than good especially whilst you were finding a reason to sneak out with your clothes half on the next morning.
Jack: you up for coming to the Vegas game still?
225 notes · View notes
li0nn3stuff · 2 days
Text
You see Aemond's eye
English is not my first language, be kind.
Modern!Aemond x fem!Reader 
Warnings: pure smut with a bit of fluff in the end
Aemond groans, as he squeezes her hips with his hands, as she keeps on jumping up and down his cock. He clenches his jaw, throwing back his head at the beautiful feeling of being inside of her once again. Her breasts were jumping up and down in front of his face, still covered by her bra, her hands beside his head, her head thrown back. He looks at her face, contorted in pleasure and a bit of tiredness as she keeps riding him, moaning every time his cock slips back in, rubbing just the right spot inside her.
He moves one of his hands to tug down harshly the cup of her bra, letting one of her breasts out, so he could lean towards it to suck her nipple in his mouth. She moans even loudly and she sits on his cock, swaying her hips back and forth, as she puts one of her hands behind his head, keeping him close to her breast. He grunts and grabs her ass tightly enough to be leaving bruises later, and he starts moving her so she resumes her previous movements, forcing her to take his cock in and out, as he watches how she wonderfully does so, with his mouth half open.
“Yes… Fuck- That’is, baby- Just like that.” He moans as she nods and follows his pace. He let one of his hands away from her ass to bring it to her exposed breast, squeezing it, then twirling her nipple between his fingers.
“Oh- Fuck, A-Aem-Aemond!” She moans loudly and he smirks. He squeezes the skin of her ass even tighter as he stops her movements, fixing the cup of her bra as he puts his hands back on her hips, keeping her still. He plants his feet on the bed and start thrusting his hips up, fucking her from below, his eye glued to where their bodies combined so wonderfully. She moves her hands on his chest to keep her balance and she looks down at him.
“A-Aemond- S-so good..:” she mumbles as he just keeps speeding up, going inhumanly faster. The room was filled with dirty sounds, the sicky sounds of her juices that wetted his crotch, her moans, sobs and whimpers, and his grunts or heavy breathing.
She kept looking at his face, she loved to drink up every expression of his, all the time, in bed, out of bed. She couldn’t stop looking at him, finding every single detail of his face incredibly beautiful. Except for one thing. They’ve talked before, and almost every time, it ended up disappointing for her. His eyepatch. She had asked him on many occasions why he never took it off with her, why she couldn’t see how he was underneath it, and he simply answered that she wasn’t ready, that she would have been disgusted by what she would have seen. Hearing him saying such things about himself always broke her heart, so she would just drop the conversation with a sadden smile.
“I’ll fuck you untill morning, baby- Fuck, if it feels this good it’ll be worth feeling my cock fall off-” He grunts as he grabs the back of her neck and pulls her down on his chest. She hides her face in his neck, trying to cover her moans on his skin, but he slapped her ass, leaving a red print of his hand on it.
“Don’t. Let me hear you. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.” he growls, as she presses her forehead on his neck as she tries to get a glimpse of the sight of his cock entering her repeatedly, but due to this position she couldn’t, so she just closes her eyes and moans again, clenching her hands on the duvets under them, squeezing them in her hands as she just kept taking whatever he gave her. He takes off his hand from the back of her neck and he slips it between them, searching for her breasts again, so she takes the occasion to sit back up as he keeps pistoning his hips up.
The stamina of this guy was something she just would never understand.
She puts her hands back on his chest, passing her fingers over his nipples, and she looks back at his face. His lips parted, his rapid breathing and his expression of struggle, pleasure and determination. He grunts and throws his head back as he closes his eye, the scar wrinkling the skin around it, the eyepatch moving slightly. He probably didn’t even notice, but she did. She puts her hand on his scarred cheek, caressing it, as he immediately opened his eye to watch her attently. Giving her a few harder thrusts to warn her, that made her sob harder, almost taking her breath away. She fixes his eyepatch over his eye and she leans down to kiss his chest, keeping her hand on his cheek, sitting back up after.
Aemond’s thrusts were getting harder and quicker, a sign that he was about to cum. She looks back at his face and he sees his pained expression as he tried to hold back, feeling her walls starting to squeeze him, knowing that he was just building her orgasm up. She bites her lip as he keeps looking at his face, and even if she knew that what she was about to do was really wrong, she couldn’t refrain herself, so she moved her hand and slipped his eyepatch off. She met blue.
He was… beautiful.
His lost eye has been replaced with a blue sapphire gem, his eyelid a bit wrinkly and red at the edges. But that eye, that gem… Aemond widened his eye, shocked by her action. How could he be insecure of such a sight? God, she was so lucky, she was in heaven, she felt the highest, knowing that she get to be fucked by him, touched, kissed, by him. She was flattered to even be close to him. She kept staring at him, and after finally having revealed to herself what he looked like, all she could do was just cum. She collapsed on top of him as her walls spasmed violently, never having cum this hard in her life, she just felt wonderfully, hugging his neck close to her as she let out the loudest moan.
Aemond clenches his eye close as he moans back just as loud, her walls sucking him so wonderfully that his legs just fail him when he finally lets himself cum. She puts her hands on the sides of his face as she presses her lips on his. He sighs and kisses her back, pushing her away almost immediately. She pulls away and looks at him with her lips pressed together.
“I-I’m so sorry…” She was panting, her whole body was shaking.
“Why did you even do it?” He growls as he puts his eyepatch back on, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.
“No! Please, I’m really sorry I did it like this, but please, Aemond, don’t wear the eyepatch again.” She begs him. He growls and he pulls his wrist away from her. “What makes you think you have the right to ask this, uh?!” He was angry, he felt betrayed, and he had all the right to be, she knew it.
“Aemond… I know I-I shouldn’t have, but… You’re beautiful.” She ends up whispering her last two words. He looks at her as if she was a madwoman.
“You should be disgusted.” He hisses at her and she furrows her brows.
“Disgusted? Aemond… who told you that? Your eye is nothing to be disgusted by.” She felt her heart break into pieces at his words. He just fixes his eyepatch on his eyes and looks away from her.
“No one.” He answers coldly. She presses her lips together, feeling her eyes filling with tears. She moves off of him and lays beside him. Aemond was stubborn, what he said, he had to do. She felt it was worth it to try again. 
“Aemond…” She puts her hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her. She met his glacial gaze, the one he usually reserved for strangers. It sent shivers down her spine, mixed with pure fear. Did she just ruin everything? Only the idea of losing him made her want to cry and beg him on her knees. She takes a deep breath to not burst into tears.”P-Please… You’re perfect… you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen…” 
His expression softens as he sees her tears, and he sighs in frustration, pulling her close, making her lean on his chest as he wraps his arm around her.
“Did you cum for my eye?” He asks so shamelessly that she blushed violently, even though it was nothing she could deny. She slowly nodded her head, looking down at her hand resting on his chest. He heard Aemond moving, then his hand came in her view field, holding his eyepatch. He was giving her his eyepatch. Her head snaps up, looking up at him. His cheeks red in embarrassment, as he was looking away from her. His eye uncovered. She smiles softly, wiping away her tears, as she leans on her elbow to look better at him she puts her hand on his cheek again, turning his head to her. He was so pretty, his cheeks flushed, his gaze drifted to the side, as he refused to meet your eyes.
“You’re beautiful.” She repeated, smiling at him. His cheeks only reddened more as he clenched his jaw.
“I don’t get you. How can you enjoy the sight of any of this?” He answers and I rest my chin on top of your chest, admiring your face.
“I just do. Simple as that.” 
He finally looks down at her and he caresses her cheek with her thumb.
“I don’t think I would have ever been able to take the eyepatch off in front of you. I guess it was a good thing that you did it for me.” He says as he looks at her, his mind strangely calm. She leans towards his hand as she closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft touches.
He grabs her by the back of her neck and she brings her up to his face so he can kiss her. She immediately wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he rolls to get on top of her. He looked at her, smirking. Her reaction to his eye gave him a huge boost of confidence.
“I won't cover my eye again when we are alone, I promise.”  She smiles back at him at his words. He smiles devilishly then he adds: 
“Especially if it makes you cum that hard.” 
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theemporium · 1 day
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A number 15 green-eyed mojito with Nico💚
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
15. "What would I be jealous about?”
.
“You’re staring.” 
“I’m observing.”
“If looks could kill, he would be dead.”
“Tragic.” 
“Oh my god,” Jack grumbled under his breath, shooting his captain a concerned look before shaking his head. “Remind me not to piss you off.” 
Nico rolled his eyes. “You piss me off quite often, actually.”
“I—” Jack paused, his eyes narrowing as he lightly jabbed his side with his elbow. “One, that was rude. Two, you need to calm down. You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend and you aren’t even her boyfriend. You’re just the jealous part.”
Nico scoffed, but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you. 
Because, as much as it pained him to admit, Jack was right. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend and he was fully aware of that. But it wasn’t like self-awareness couldn’t exactly stop the bitter feelings bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man openly flirt with you. 
“You know,” Jack continued, something quite like amusement in his voice. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you just grew the balls to ask her out.” 
And he hated that Jack was right again. 
The crush he had been harbouring on you was obvious to everyone with a pair of working eyes. Or at least, everyone except you. Since the day you started on the team, Nico had been all lovesick smiles and longing gazes, practically throwing himself at any social media opportunity he could just so he could spend time with you. It was a little embarrassing and pathetic, all things considered. 
But the worst part was that it had been a better part of two years and Nico had made no move to confess his feelings towards you.
Which then led to moments like now, where Nico had no real reason to feel as irritated as he was over some guy from the media team flirting with you.
“Shut up,” was all he managed to mutter out.
“This is actually really sad to watch,” Jack muttered before sighing deeply. “Just know that I’m doing this because, as your friend and alternate, I’m worried about you possibly breaking your jaw before making a move.”
Nico frowned a little. “What are you—”
But before Nico could even stop whatever stupid move Jack was going to pull, he was calling out your name and waving his hands in such an exaggerated and overly dramatic manner that Nico felt his cheeks heating up. 
“I hate you,” Nico muttered under his breath as you began making your way over.
“You’re about to hate me so much more but I know you love me,” Jack whispered back before he grinned at you, the words leaving his mouth so quick that Nico almost thought he imagined it when the younger boy said, “Nico is jealous.” 
And then, the fucker was running off and leaving a gaping Nico in the dust to deal with the consequences.
You blinked in surprise before you turned to the boy. “You’re jealous?” 
“Me? Jealous? What would I be jealous about?” Nico attempted to laugh off, but it was forced and dry and it didn’t quite land the way he wanted to when he noticed your brows furrowing in concern. “Jack is just messing about, don’t listen to him.”
“Really?” You questioned, watching as Nico quickly nodded in response. “So it has nothing to do with the fact you have spent the last fifteen minutes glaring at Thomas?” 
Nico blinked, feeling the blush spread from his cheeks to the tip of his ears. “Uh—”
“For what it’s worth, I’m not interested in him,” you said.
“Oh.” He couldn’t bring himself to care how happy he sounded, how hopeful.
“I’m interested in someone else,” you continued.
“Oh.” The disappointment was clear and heavy in his voice, inklings of the previous jealousy sinking into his response.
“You might know him,” you added, trying to bite back your smile when you watched his nose scrunch up. “He’s a hockey player, has a cute accent and pretty brown eyes. Think he might even be the captain or something.” 
Blood roared in his ears and he was pretty sure his smile was going to split his cheeks, but he didn’t care. “Really?”
“Yeah, but he’s a little blind,” you teased, almost looking a little bashful despite the unwavering confidence in your voice. “I’ve been waiting for him to ask me out but he hasn’t been catching my hints.”
“He sounds a little stupid,” Nico murmured. Maybe he would’ve felt embarrassed if his heart didn’t feel like it was about to beat out of his own chest. “But I bet he’s wondering if you’re free at seven tonight.”
“Let him know it’s a date,” you said, grinning right back at him.
.
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cevansbrat0007 · 1 day
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New In Town
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Summary: Introducing Chapter One of my Sweet Renegades Series. Sparks fly when you accidentally find yourself sitting next to Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson.
Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death and Grief, Mentions of Book Boyfriends, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: Major thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me plot out this chapter. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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It was happening again. You could feel him doing it. You knew without turning your head that the bastard had gone back to staring.
At you.
Gritting your teeth, you make a point of adjusting the skirt of your dress before returning your focus to Reverend Turner at the pulpit. Trying your best to ignore the hum of electricity in your veins, you find yourself wishing that you’d opted to stay home today. After all, you hadn’t been to church in ages. 
So what on earth possessed you to return today?
It’s not like you were concerned for your immortal soul or anything. On the contrary, you and God were good. You were even on speaking terms again – now that you’d finally forgiven him for calling your Uncle Leon home before you were ready to let him go.
That had been nearly three years ago.
These days, your grief has taken a backseat in favor of running the town’s only bookshop, Baubles & Quills. Once owned by your Uncle, the store had become your sanctuary as you’d struggled to cope with the loss of the only family you’d ever had. 
And now that you’d deemed life worth living again you’d apparently decided that attending Calvary Baptist Church’s Sunday morning service was a good idea. But the one thing you hadn’t counted on when you’d politely – and strategically – taken a seat in the pew closest to the door was that you’d end up sharing it with the likes of him.    
That bounty hunter fella that you’d been hearing about for the last week. His arrival had practically sent your little town into a regular feeding frenzy. Word on the street was that he was investigating something that had to do with your old high school pal, Martin Westbrook.
At least that’s what Charline Marshall had said when she’d stopped by your shop to return a book she’d purchased because she didn’t care for the ending. While you weren’t usually one for gossip, you’d been intrigued by her, ah, description of the handsome stranger that had taken up residence just a few blocks south of where you lived.
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Two Days Ago…
“His name is Ari Levinson. Kinda strange, right?” She’d whispered conspiratorially, running a hand through her copper colored tresses . “But he’s a tall drink of water with the prettiest blue eyes I‘ve ever seen.”
“Oh really?” You’d mumbled, frowning at the crease that adorned the spine of the paperback book in your hands. Another one for the discount rack.
“Mhm. He’s handsome all over.” Charline had continued, picking up one of your more elaborate looking bookmarks and pretending to study it before using it to fan herself. “And not only that, but…” She’d leaned in then, allowing her freshly manicured nails lightly graze your arm. “I think he likes me.”
“Oh? Has he come out and said that?” Your eyes had gone wide with feigned interest. Because of course the man would be into Charline Anne Marshall. Who wouldn’t be? The woman was beautiful and, what’s more, she knew it.  
“Well, I mean…not yet.” The woman had let out a disappointed little sigh. “But I’m almost certain he will. I’m just giving him time to get settled in, you know?” She’d said, her perfectly painted lips curving into a smile as she held out a hand for her change. 
“How kind of you.” Good Lord how you wished you could hurry things along so you could go back to enjoying your peace and quiet. 
“Ari has already interviewed me twice. He even gave me his number, just in case I happen to remember anything else.” She’d tucked the cash from her return into her purse. “I think I might call him up and tell him that my memory works best after a couple of drinks. Think that’ll work?”
“I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Even though you were annoyed, you’d pasted on a fake smile and closed the register, hoping that might be enough to convince her to end the conversation and move on already.
“Why, I think you just might be right.” Your unwanted guest held up the bookmark that was still in her grasp, her unspoken question left hanging in the air. “And this?”
“It’s on the house, Charline.” You’d patiently replied, bracing your elbows on the counter. “Best of luck landing your bounty hunter beau.”
“Well, aren’t you just a gem?” She’d all but squealed, sounding positively giddy as she took a step back. “You know, I bet if you spent a little more time out in the real world instead of holed-up in here with all these books, you’d probably be able to land a man too. You’d be awful pretty if you’d just put in a little bit of effort into it. I mean –” 
“No thanks.” You’d simply shrugged, unable to summon up enough energy to be outraged by the dig. 
It wasn’t worth the breath you would've wasted trying to explain why you were better off keeping the company of your book boyfriends. A real man required too much care and feeding for your tastes. 
“If you say so, sugar. But–” She’d responded as she strode towards the door. “Oh! You should come to my next party. We’ll let Mary Kay sponsor your makeover.”   
'No offense, Charline, but I’d rather put a campfire out with my face than attend your next Mary Kay get-together featuring you and ten of your mother’s closest friends.' You'd thought to yourself.
“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.” You’d hedged before turning on your heel and heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Enjoy the bookmark!” God, you’d never been so happy to hear someone exit your shop than you were at that moment.
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Which brought you back to the present. You’re startled out of your reverie when the congregation erupts into thunderous applause, signaling the end of Reverend Turner’s sermon.  You knew you were going to have to move quickly if you wanted to avoid any unwanted attention from other members of the flock. 
Or worse yet: be forced into making small talk with Ari Levinson. Assuming that beast of a man actually possessed enough brain cells to actually string together a sentence or two. Which was a shame because he really was easy on the eyes. 
Unfortunately for you, you don’t realize that now you’re the one who’s staring until you notice the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. Shit. The cocky lawman nods his head in your direction before having the audacity to mouth the word: “howdy”. It almost makes you wonder what his voice would sound like. 
Would his southern drawl be thick and rough, or smooth and easygoing? Assuming he was southern, that is.
Feeling your cheeks heat, you make fast work of grabbing your things before scooting out of the pew, doing your best to sneak out of the service before everyone is formally dismissed. The absolute last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were like every other woman in this town who was willing to practically trip over herself just to get a good look at him. 
On your way out you brush past Sister Mary Jo Winans, who is all too eager to follow you out the door and halfway down the front stairs.
So much for making a clean getaway.
“You’re not staying for the potluck?” She wheezes, gripping the railing as she struggles to catch her breath. 
“Afraid not, Sister Winans.” You tell her while digging through your purse for your keys. “I’ve gotta go home and change so I can head over to the shop.”
“But it’s Sunday, honey.” The matronly woman huffs, adjusting the angle of her wide-brim church hat. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s all right there in the good Book.”
“Be that as it may, Sister, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Plus I wouldn’t feel right about eating when I didn’t bring a dish to contribute, so…” You offer up a one-armed shrug. “Next time.” 
You also weren’t a fan of eating in front of people. You were always self-conscious about whatever you put on your plate, convinced that you were being judged for your choices. Your stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding you that you’d left some cottage cheese and fruit behind at the shop. That would just have to do until you found the wherewithal to make it to the grocery store.   
“But–”
“Next time. I promise.” You kindly interrupt, hoping that she would just let the issue drop. “By the way, I set aside a copy of Joyce Meyer’s latest book for you.”
“You did?”
“Yep.” You confirm as you begin walking backwards towards the nearby parking lot. “Stop by anytime. We’ll consider it an early birthday present, alright?” Smiling when she nods, you toss her a little wave before speed walking the rest of the way to your car. 
Unlocking it, you climb in the driver’s seat and slam the door before gunning the engine. Finally free, you peel out of the lot and turn onto the empty street. Needing to focus on something other than your thoughts about a certain bounty hunter, you decide to turn up the radio, praying for your traitorous brain to cooperate. 
Yeah, no such luck. 
“Fuck you, Levinson.” You spit, wishing that he was close enough to hear you right then. Because the way you saw it, the sooner he packed his shit and moved on, the better off you and everyone else in this godforsaken town would be. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay far away from you.
He’d have more luck getting information out of a drunk Charline than he would trying to get you to spill your guts. And the moment he threatened you, you were planning to call Bell’s Creek PD to let them deal with it. Until then, you had some empty shelves to stock. But first…
You were gonna need to find someone to cut you out of these damned spanx.
END 
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janaispunk · 1 day
Text
no one has to know what we do
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chapter 2 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.
word count: 4.4k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!
a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
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The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.
It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.
Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.
It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.
You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.
But David — David is refreshing.
He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.
You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.
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He’s not expecting you to reach out.
Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.
Because all he can think about is seeing you again.
It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.
Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.
He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.
Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.
And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.
He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.
Seconds after the first, another text comes through:
[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone
Fuck. Fuck.
His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.
He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.
The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.
His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.
“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.
He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”
“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.
Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.
“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”
His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.
“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.
“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”
You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”
It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.
“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.
You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.
“You don’t like me?”
He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.
The call disconnects with a beep.
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You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.
His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.
“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.
“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”
Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.
“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.
“Probably not.”
You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.
When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.
Have fun last night?
From David, sent five minutes ago.
You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.
Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.
Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.
i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you
His reply comes almost instantly.
Who said you bothered me?
You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.
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Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.
It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.
When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.
You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.
He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.
You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.
He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.
You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.
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You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.
You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.
After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.
But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.
On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.
Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.
He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.
“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”
“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”
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It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.
He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.
He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.
The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.
He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?
“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”
He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.
“Yes. Come on.”
He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.
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He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.
So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.
You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.
He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.
He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.
You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.
“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.
“You want me to take care of you?”
You nod.
“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”
Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.
He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.
“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.
Slap.
“You love this, don’t you?”
“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.
Slap.
“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”
You gasp.
Slap.
“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”
It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.
He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.
He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.
You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.
No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.
He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.
He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.
When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.
“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”
He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.
You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.
One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.
“I thought I told you no begging.”
You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”
He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.
“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”
You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.
“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.
He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.
It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.
He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.
Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.
“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”
You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.
He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.
You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.
Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.
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He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.
“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”
He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.
You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.
“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.
Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.
The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.
When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.
It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.
He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.
Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.
[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.
Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.
It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.
Maybe just one more time.
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thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
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fantastic-nonsense · 3 days
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I love your thoughtful SoC meta! I would love to know your thoughts on Kaz and Jesper’s relationship. Specifically, I adore Kaz but one thing in particular that always seemed so dark to me was that he enabled Jesper’s gambling addiction even though he obviously does care about him. Kaz is obviously willing to do a lot of fucked up things in service of his goals, but this one in particular, toward his own brother figure, I find sad. It’s kind of addressed during their fight at the end of CK but still feels a little unfinished.
I love Kaz and Jesper's relationship. There's sooooo much to dig into there (way too much for a single meta); it's super juicy and complicated, and one of the best complexities of it is that they often enable and feed off of each other's trauma. The pre-canon status quo is a situation where Kaz and Jesper are, in many ways, using and abusing each other as a way of avoiding dealing with their own trauma. It's a fascinating push-and-pull dynamic because neither of them are pushovers and yet neither one is particularly interested in facing their Issues™ head-on, and they both seemingly recognize that in each other and give each other an uncharacteristic amount of grace in helping the other avoid dealing with it.
In Kaz's case, that most often looks like enabling Jesper's gambling addiction and then repeatedly bailing him out of trouble under the justification of "he's loyal and competent, it would be wasteful to let the other gangs kill him." In Jesper's case, this looks like ignoring Kaz's countless and extremely obvious issues in favor of playing the loyal second. Basically, it's not just Kaz enabling Jesper's gambling addiction; it's also Jesper enabling Kaz's unhinged ruthlessness with little pushback other than a few snarky comments.
They also project a lot of their own issues onto each other! Kaz pushes Jesper away in part because he's projecting the grief and blame he feels over Jordie's death onto Jesper, but Jesper is using Kaz's ruthless pragmatism to escape the crippling disappointment of returning home to face his father's judgement for being a college drop-out, gambling addict, and gang member. And Kaz withholds praise and verbal declarations of trust from Jesper because he hates acknowledging that he cares about people, but Jesper uses Kaz's emotional detachment as a crutch to avoid dealing with his own commitment issues by pining after a boy he knows will never reciprocate his advances. This status quo is, of course, insanely unhealthy for both boys long-term, but where would we be if any of the Crows actually dealt with their issues in a healthy way?
That dynamic, imo, is also only possible because Kaz and Jesper have known each other for longer than anyone else in the main crew; Kaz may have let Inej in further, but he let Jesper in first. As far as we know, Jesper is the first person Kaz genuinely lets past his mile-high walls since Jordie died...but he very deliberately holds him at arms' length in a way that he does not with Inej (something that Jesper notices and is jealous about!). Being "the first" in this case unfortunately comes with a lot of baggage, and Kaz and Jesper would both lowkey rather die than talk about how much they care what the other thinks of them.
Kaz clearly didn't recruit Jesper looking for a friend or someone who reminded him of his dead older brother; he recruited him because he saw someone with a useful skillset who he preferred to be at his side rather than in a rival gang or dead in the canals. It's to Jesper's credit that he managed to break through those walls anyway, but there's only so much he can do in the face of Kaz's armor. And like Inej, Kaz's closed-off personality and actions hurt Jesper repeatedly. But he stays anyway, because he (like Inej) sees the boy underneath the mask that Kaz wears and cares a little too much to let him go:
“He wouldn’t—” Jesper stopped short, and then he laughed. “Of course he would.” Jesper flexed his knuckles, concentrated on the lines of his palms. “Kaz is…I don’t know, he’s like nobody else I’ve ever known. He surprises me.” “Yes. Like a hive of bees in your dresser drawer.” Jesper barked a laugh. “Just like that.” “So what are we doing here?” Jesper turned back to the sea, feeling his cheeks heat. “Hoping for honey, I guess. And praying not to get stung.” Inej bumped her shoulder against his. “Then at least we’re both the same kind of stupid.” “I don’t know what your excuse is, Wraith. I’m the one who can never walk away from a bad hand.” She looped her arm in his. “That makes you a rotten gambler, Jesper. But an excellent friend.” “You’re too good for him, you know.” “I know. So are you." -Ch. 17, Six of Crows
Kaz is unused to verbalizing the trust he places in others and actively in denial about how much he cares about them until Crooked Kingdom; he spends his time deliberately being cruel and pushing people away even as he proves over and over again that he doesn't actually want them to leave him. This casual assholery hits those closest to him (Inej and Jesper) the hardest because they are clearly trusted with his life but not with his heart, and that hurts them both.
For Inej, resolving that behavior looks like giving him an ultimatum ("I will have you without armor or I will not have you at all") and telling herself to walk away unless he meets her challenge. For Jesper? That looks like duking it out on top of the Geldrenner when they're both at rock bottom, because of course that's the only way either one of those boys is ever going to verbalize the tension that underlies their relationship. There's just a lot of baggage and mutual toxicity and unsaid words that neither of them are very interested in dealing with until everything comes to a head during the Clocktower fight.
I think we also forget that the Kaz-Jesper dynamic we see in the majority of the duology is not their normal dynamic: it's how they interact when Kaz is mad at Jesper. And a mad Kaz is, within the scope of canon, a pretty cruel Kaz, which is something that I think a good portion of the fandom likes to handwave away in favor of pointing towards Kaz's active attempts to be better in the back half of the duology.
Ultimately we only see the "normal" Kaz-Jesper dynamic for the first 12 or so chapters of Six of Crows (when the Dock Fight/Eyeball Incident happens) and the last few chapters of Crooked Kingdom. Those chapters are a really interesting look into what that relationship looks like when they're on good terms. It's clear that they're good friends, trust each other a hell of a lot, and joke around with each other quite a bit (the "saves ammo" joke in the parley chapter, their interactions during the Hellgate breakout, the "man with a knife!" "man with a gun!" exchange immediately after Kaz throws Oomen overboard, etc), but we also see the stress points: Jesper getting mad at Kaz for not telling him about Big Bolliger's betrayal, Kaz sending Wylan with Jesper during the prep chapters to keep an eye on him, and Jesper's bee and honey conversation with Inej on the Ferolind, for example.
These stress points are what fracture and crack in the aftermath of Jesper accidentally alerting the other gangs that they were headed out on the Ice Court Job and nearly causing Inej's death, and further buckle under the stress and pressure that Kaz and Jesper deal with during the following month and a half: the Ice Court job, Van Eck kidnapping Inej on Vellgeluk, Colm showing up in Ketterdam, and the Sugar Silo/Auction scheme.
In this way, I think Kaz enabling Jesper's gambling addiction is less about Kaz being actively cruel towards someone he sees the ghost of his brother in and punishing Jesper for the sins he percieves Jordie to have made (which is also true, and a meta for a different time!) and more about the weird balance of toxic mutual leniency Kaz and Jesper have allowed the other to provide for them for over two years...and how that leniency breaks down once it's not just Kaz's life or time on the line when Jesper fucks up.
Put more succinctly: for a long time, Kaz and Jesper existed in a toxic balance of enabling each others' worst impulses and behaviors, which was only able to be verbally addressed when they were both at rock bottom, desperate, and seemingly had very little left to lose. This conflict is somewhat addressed and resolved in the conversation where Kaz refuses to give Jesper the last of the parem and offers up a tiny bit of information about Jordie—showcasing his own growth and how he's finally trying to break the cycle by refusing to enable Jesper's self-destructive tendencies—but that level of tension is unable to be properly resolved in one single blowout argument. And I think it's deliberately left a bit unfinished because neither of them are really in a place where they're ready to address everything they've left unsaid for so long, even in the epilogue chapters.
However, we do see the beginnings of that reconcilitaion (Kaz asking Inej to tell Jesper that he's "missed around the Slat") and the story ends on a hopeful note regarding Kaz's commitment to removing his armor, which implies a lot about the resolution of that dangling thread. And of course, we know that by Rule of Wolves they're back to being thick as thieves and fucking around as usual, so clearly they hashed it out at some point in the in-between (and personally? I don't think it took either of them very long after the CK epilogue chapters to do that hashing out).
tl;dr: I love it when two traumatized and emotionally constipated teenage boys use each other to avoid facing their own personal problems and then get into a fistfight to avoid talking about how much they care about each other. Top-tier dynamic. Chef's kiss. I could talk about them for hours.
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oceanisty · 2 days
Text
You Hated Me, but I'm Crazy for You
Scaramouche x Fem!Reader
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A/N : Okay so, my teacher decided to give a group assignment where we make dramas. I got assigned by my group to make a script for a drama. The script was about two students being academic rivals, they are supposed to be friends in the end but my GOODNESS I just can't unsee the romantic tension between the two characters. It's TOO GOOD to pass so I decided to make this one-shot. ISTG I've never grabbed my laptop to make a fanfiction THIS FAST in my life, I'm literally still in class as we speak.
DISCLAIMER(S) : Academic rivals, enemies to lovers, modern AU, high school AU, both Scaramouche and Reader are 18 years old (junior to senior year in high school), curse words,  angst(?), reader absolutely hates Scaramouche but he is CRAZY for her, this mf is a SIMP for the reader, the reader having VERY strict parents. If it’s ooc I am so sorry. I might make part 2, I don’t know. I feel like this is a little bit too short.
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You didn’t know what happened, you didn’t know how it happened. You had a perfect life, perfect grades, teachers loved you, guaranteed a bright future ahead. Your families are proud, your parents approved you for being the perfect, straight A’s girl they wanted you to be. It was all going very well, but then… he had to show up in your life.
“H-Huh?....” You stared at your report card, terrified. Your rank says “2nd”. You keep opening and closing your report card, asking your friends if you’re not imagining things. You got 2nd…. for the first time in your life.
“Haha… that scared expression on your face, what a sight to see.” That boy walked past your desk, with a proud smirk on his face.
Scaramouche… a boy your age, slightly taller than you, those soft looking indigo hair annoys you, those stupidly beautiful eyes of his keep piercing you through your soul. You hate him, every single atom of his existence. Ever since entering the Akademiya, he keeps bugging you, annoying you to hell. Scoring higher than you by the slightest, he would rub it in your face.
It’s worse when he keeps beating you on reaching the 1st rank every single semester. You became a disappointment for your parents, they keep putting you under pressure. The only time you managed to reach 1st rank was in the first semester of 11th grade. You were so happy, you proudly rubbed it in his face, telling every single one of your friends that you beat him. But of course, your parents’ reaction was nothing other than a disappointing hum.
You stayed up late night after night, studying 24/7 just to beat his ass. Only for him to reach the 1st rank again in the second semester. The smug expression on his face when he looked at you with a mocking grin, you just wanna slap his face in front of everyone right then and there. Once again, your parents are disappointed in you. Putting you in a house arrest, not allowing you to spend your summer out with your friends. Making you stay at home, just study, study, and study.
You feel trapped, you just want to be free. You don’t know why he has to exist, why he has to be in your way. Your life was perfect, you had everything. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying! He just sits there, looking as lazy as a sloth, yet he keeps beating you on every single exam being thrown at you. The only thing you wanted was to survive highschool smoothly. Because once you’re in college, you’re free from your parents.
The pressure got worse in 12th grade, your senior year. The pressure from your parents became worse. Once again, he got 1st rank. As you stare at your report card with a devastated expression, Scaramouche approaches you and leans slightly closer to peek from your shoulder. He let out a chuckle when he saw your scores on your card, you turned your head to look at him with a glare. He just flashes his annoying smirk at you then walks off.
Later that noon, you see him just sitting in the empty classroom. You didn’t even care what he was doing when it’s currently after school hours. You barged into the empty classroom to approach him with anger, you grabbed his collar and pulled him up to your eye level. “You motherfucker! You think you’re better than me?! For my whole life, you’ve been torturing me. What is your fucking problem?!”
Scaramouche just looks up at you with a calm expression, a small smirk appears on his lips. Yet he refuses to say anything, which makes your blood boil even more. “I swear to the Archons above, I will kick your ass one day… you bitch!” He just let out a mocking laugh, a grin appeared on his face. “You’re so pathetic… It’s so easy to rile you up, it’s almost like you’re so obsessed with me, darling~” You had to hold yourself from punching him because of that mocking tone in his voice.
You both stayed at that position for a while, he looked so amused while you look like you would and will kill him. After a few seconds, you threw him back at the seat and just walked away. As much as you wanted to send him to the infirmary, you told yourself that it’s not worth it. What you didn’t know was the fact that Scaramouche’s heart beat faster when left. A blush spread on his cheeks, a hand covering his lower face. “Oh fuck…” He whispered to himself.
If riling you up would mean for him to see you snap at him, he would gladly do it for the rest of his high school year.
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Made by @oceanisty on 27/03/2024. Dividers by benkeibears Navigation Genshin Masterlist
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lexisecretaccx · 3 days
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High School Sweethearts pt.11 - Chris Sturniolo
Other parts are on my Masterlist 🫶
(Femreader x Chris Sturniolo, nothing really, kissing, suggestive, mentions of family death)
A/n: took a break from writing this, idk how to finish this series yet so ig I’ll have to wait and see how many parts it’s gonna end up being lol
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“You were very rude in there, I’m disappointed in you.” My mother spoke as we drove out of their driveway, “when aren’t you.” I shrug and look out the window. “Maybe if I didn’t have his dad creeping on me and Evan being rude to me then I would’ve been fine.” I sighed.
The whole car ride is in silence, when we pull up in front of our house my mom turns to me, “I would like you to be out of the house just for tonight,” I look to her, “what?” She swallows, “can you stay with Chris?” She asks. “What is this about?” We get out the car.
“It doesn’t matter to you, y/n.” She opens the front door, “it’s a bit last minute mom, what if he’s busy?” I widen my eyes at her as we enter the house and she turns to me after shutting the door, “then find someone else to stay with, you can’t be here tonight,” she sternly spoke, “please.” She whispered.. desperately?
“Fine.” I sigh and run upstairs to pack a bag and change out of the dress. Chris said it was cool and Matt would pick me up, I grab my bag before walking out the door, slamming it behind me not even saying goodbye to my mom.
Matts car pulls up outside and I hop in the passenger seat. “Chris is in the shower so that’s why he’s not here.” Matt smiles, I nod before looking out at my house, feeling waves of confusion wash over me, why would my mom tell me I can’t be at my own house?
“You ok?” Matt breaks me out the trance, I look to him and flash him a small smile, “yeah sorry, just thinking..” I reply, “no need to apologise.” Matt directs his attention back to the road infront of us.
We pull up outside their house and me and Matt both hop out the car. As soon as I open the front door, Chris runs up to me, his hair still wet from his shower. “Hey.” He smiles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Get a room oh my god.” Nick fake gags and Chris rolls his eyes. We go up to his room and I sit on the bed.
“How was… the dinner thing?” Chris sits next to me smiling, “not great,” I sigh and lay back. “Evan was there, my mom lied.” I mumble. Chris turns to me and looks at me lying down, “what.” He spoke, his face hardening.
“We had the dinner and he kept making comments about me, then I got mad and went to the bathroom and he knocked on the door, I opened it and he kept talking to me.” I place my hands over my eyes and rub my temples. “He was grabbing at my hands and was pretty horrible to me, so I told him that me and you fucked.. and he shut up and I think his ego is very hurt.” I fake pout and Chris’ face changes quickly as he starts to laugh.
“He deserves that.. why doesn’t your mom want you there tonight?” Chris lays next to me and faces me, “I wish I knew.” I face him for a moment before sitting up, he quickly joins me.
I move onto Chris and straddle his lap, his eyes widen slightly, “oh hey.” He smirks and I chuckle, “hey.” I whisper before kissing him softly on his pink lips, his hands snake around my waist as he pulls me into him closer, if that’s possible.
The kiss gets more heated as my tongue explores his mouth, he lays back so I’m fully sitting on top of him. I pull away from the kiss to adjust myself into a comfortable position, Chris groans as I wriggle on top of him. “Shit sorry.” I smile, before sitting comfortably on top of him, his hand grips my hips.
I lean back down and continue to kiss him, soft groans eliciting from his lips every time I move. A knock on his door breaks apart the moment as I quickly hop off of his lap and he adjusts himself before walking and opening the door.
It’s pretty obvious that we had been making out, his hairs kinda ruffled but it’s wet so it’s not too noticeable but his lips are puffy. Nick is standing on the other side of the door, “what Nick?” Chris asks impatiently, “move.” Nick pushes past Chris causing an offended look to appear on chris’ face. “Y/n.” Nick sits next to me.
“Yeah?” I ask in confusion, “there’s a new kid moving to our school, apparently he knows you?” Nick says to me, “he?” Chris asks. Nick nods, “I’d be able to know who he is if you told me his name.” I laugh awkwardly. “Oliver or something I don’t know, Matt met him today.” I think for a second before I look up at Nick and widen my eyes.
“Oliver’s a pretty common name, I don’t know.” I breathe out. “Okay then, go back to.. whatever y’all were doing.” Nick spoke as he walked out.
“Oliver?” Chris asks me. “Hm?” I look up at him, “do you know an Oliver? Or knew?” He sits back down next to me, “yeah when I was a kid but it might not be him.” I laugh, “an Oliver says he knows you and you knew one.. it’s probably the kid Nicks talking about.” Chris sighs.
“Are you jealous?” I ask and raise an eyebrow at Chris, he shrugs “no, just this Oliver kid needs to know you have a boyfriend.” He motions to himself, I laugh, “he’ll know for sure.” I smirk as I press a kiss to Chris’ lips softly.
The next morning we go to school early with Nick and Matt, “let’s go to the skatepark bit.” Matt said and we walked to the ramps, “I don’t have my board with me Matt.” Chris spoke. “Let’s just sit on the ramps and chill.” Matt shrugs, “as bros?” Nick smirked and Matt laughed.
I situated myself on a ramp next to Chris, my legs across his lap and Matt and Nick opposite us. The sound of gravel against the ground drew my attention and I turned around.
“Glad you could make it Ol!” Matt said as he got off the ramp and walked to the boy.. Oliver. I recognised his face, except he was older, taller and more attractive. Not attractive in a way that I had feelings for him but he was good looking. I stare at him, studying his features, the blonde hair slightly covering his light brown eyes and the freckles sprinkled over his nose.
“Hey y/n.” He smiles at me, I nod at him before looking back at Chris whose jaw has hardened and he’s staring at Oliver. “That’s Chris, the other triplet.” Matt spoke, “and y/n’s boyfriend.” Nick adds on, smirking at me. Chris’ face softens slightly, “hey.” Is all he said to Oliver.
No matter who was talking I knew Oliver’s eyes were trained on me, I mean I have changed slightly in the past 6 years. “Yeah I moved back to Boston because my father passed away.” Oliver spoke softly, my jaw drops. “What? I loved Thomas.” I said sadly, Oliver nods. “He was sick when I left here in the first place. But he wanted to ignore it for as long as possible.”
His voice cracks and he stops talking. I feel sadness rush over me, his father used to put bandages on my knee when I fell over. He would always pick me up from mine if my parents were fighting. His mother must be heartbroken.
Chris’ hand stays rested on my leg as we all talk. As Oliver’s eyes are still focused on me, I look at him and he smiles at me, I smile back before returning my attention to Nick who was speaking.
We get off the ramps and walk to our classes. “I’ve got a free period, so I’m gonna study in the library.” I smile to Chris, he nods and I place a kiss to his cheek before walking towards the library. I hear footsteps behind me, I turn around and Oliver is there, “I’ve also got a free period, since it’s basically my first day.” He catches up to me.
“Can I sit with you?” He asks me, I nod. We walk into the library and sit down at the table I usually do. “I haven’t seen you in.. ages.” Oliver spoke, “yeah it’s been like 6 years.” I chuckle softly, pulling my books out my bag. “I’m sorry I never called.” He whispered. I look up at him, “it’s fine, you were busy and your dad was sick.. it’s okay.” I smile and he smiles back.
“What you studying for?” He asks me, breaking the silence. “Just math stuff.” I shrug slightly some time passes before he spoke again. “You and Chris then huh?” He asks me, “hm?” I look up. “You’re dating Chris right?” “Yeah.” I smile. He nods and looks down at his phone. “How’s Lacey?” I ask him, Lacey is his little sister, before they left she was 5 so now she must be about 11.
“She’s not the best right now, none of us are but I try to take care of them.” The corners of his mouth lift before he drops them. “Do you wanna come over later? To have dinner? I bet my mom would love to see you again.” He offered, I look back up at him, “I’ll have to check if I’m doing anything, but that sounds nice.” I smile back.
“You’ve changed.” Oliver grins at me, “so have you.” I laugh, “well I’m not 12 anymore.” He shrugs. “6 years have passed, it’s not surprise that either of us changed.” I chuckle, looking back down at my book before closing it. “Could I have your number? So we can talk more? So much has happened in the past 6 years I need to fill you in.” He smiles at me and I nod, “sure.”
We exchange numbers and the bell rings, end of first period. “I’ll see you then.” He spoke, standing up. “Yeah see you.” I replied as he walked away. I feel happy knowing my best friend from the age of 4 is back. I feel guilty talking to him, I don’t want Chris getting jealous, even though nothings gonna happen between me and Oliver I’ve known him for so long it’d be weird.
I just know Chris is a jealous person, he should trust me though. I would love to go see Oliver’s mom and sister, they were basically my second family for 8 years until they left.
I’m still confused on what exactly my mom was hiding from me yesterday. She seemed desperate to get me out the house, maybe she had a guy over.. I don’t want to think of that though, it’s kinda gross. I chuckle to myself.
I sit in History but I feel everyone’s eyes on me, a note hit me on the back of the head. I picked it up you okay? Is written on it. I turn around to see Nick smiling at me, I nod slightly before turning back around. I’m not okay, everyone is staring at me because of what I did to Michael.
Even my teacher is ignoring me, Michael’s seat is empty, and this teacher always favours the boys.. she’s young-ish and always has a flirty sense to her when she speaks to the boys in the class, except Nick since he’s gay.
She always seems to favour Michael, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were secretly fucking, she did get accused of that before but I don’t know how she got out of it.
Another note hits me, but this time from the side, freak is all that’s written on it, I turn to the side of me and see two boys laughing, “real mature.” I call across to them, “don’t beat us up!” They tease. I stand up and grab my bag before walking out the class, “where are you-” I cut the teacher off by closing the door behind me.
I walk down the hallway, I don’t know where I’m going but I don’t want to be in there with them. I bump into Chris, “hey.” He smiles at me and my face lights up as I hug him.
“Why aren’t you in class.” He asks me, “everyone’s an asshole in there.” I shrug and Chris chuckles. “Walking out of class? That’s really bad.” He teases and kisses me on the forehead.
“What did you talk about with Oliver in the library?” He asks. “Just normal stuff, he asked if I wanted to go to his for dinner and see his mom and sister, they used to be like my second family.” I smiled, “oh.. that sounds fun.” Chris replies hesitantly.
“Chris, nothings gonna happen between me and Oliver, I promise you don’t have to be jealous.” I grab his hands, “jealous? I’m not jealous.” He scoffs, “your eyebrows are furrowed and you’re biting the inside of your cheek.. you’re jealous.” I laugh, he smiles, “I trust you but I don’t know if I trust him.”
“You can trust him, I won’t let him try anything.”
Chris nods.. “I hope.” He mutters to himself.
A/n: Childhood bestie is back! .. what is y/n’s mom up to fr… I think posting might be a bit inconsistent in the upcoming week or 2 because I’m really busy!!
Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @accio326 @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @stingerayyy2 @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx
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inklore · 6 hours
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exception
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prompt: you don’t need anything, you want it.
pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x f!pilot!reader (sweets)
contents: dirty talk, banter, big dick seresin, f receiving oral, jake being pussy drunk, enemies with benefits, p in v, over stimulation a little | wc: 1.9k
note: every time the weather starts to get nice i slip back into my top gun era like a bear waking up from its winter slumber, forever obsessed, forever insane over this man.
this is part of this series but you don’t need to read it to enjoy this.
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The first time was an accident. A moment of weakness on your part. Something that was not and should not be repeated. 
You didn’t label things as mistakes; the word too harsh and unforgiving. Accidents left room for improvement…and if you ever repeated the same accident twice or three times, it made you feel less shitty about it.
You can thank your mother for such a term of phrase. An outlook that enabled you throughout your entire teen-hood and had you ending up in continuous situations that were unsavory and ended with you grounded—that haunting, disappointed look your dad gave you making your heart sink—in the long run.
The only difference now was that the only one here to scold you was yourself.
The only one to hold yourself back and talk yourself out of it, to lay down the law so hard that you’d never want to let the accident happen again. 
And you’d done that. 
Had scolded yourself the minute after it happened, and the sex haze had faded from your body, the smirk to your left enough to make your blood boil and not want to commit the same accident again. Enough to bring down the hammer on yourself. 
It was an accident you were not going to repeat.
A lapse of judgment and tremendous amounts of shots, that wouldn’t happen again.
Wouldn’t cloud your mind and let you be sweet talked and seduced by a country drawl attached to a pair of irritating lips that teased the column of your neck with love bites and kisses that made you fall to your knees in front of a man you wanted to punch.
And in your defense, right now, you were sober as the day you were born. There was no liquid dopamine warping your mind or driving your actions. No easy excuse for letting what is currently happening happen.
It would be easier to blame it on that. Alcohol. Shots. 
Just as easy as it is to put the blame on the cocky asshole who’s pressed to your side, words coming out liquid smooth, and coating the arousal that’s throbbing between your thighs. 
You should slap him. Deal out one of your many quips and dis him like you usually do. Your favorite thing about Jake Seresin is that pretty throat you’re constantly at. 
You hate him.
Some would even say despise. 
But you are a creature of consistency and you’ve never been someone to learn from one accident. 
And the more he talks, the more you smell him—a smell you can’t pinpoint but has always just been what your body has labeled him. A smell you could sniff out in a crowded room. 
A smell you’ve avoided during drills and trainings by refusing to work around him. 
A smell that's hard to ignore how it makes your insides feel when he’s so fucking close.
When his mouth is forming words so irritatingly tantalizing. 
God, you hate him.
”And what makes you think I need you to help me with anything?” You bite back at his teasing words and give him your own cocky smirk. “I have plenty of toys that do the job.” 
The corner of his mouth pulls up even more, eyes flashing to your lips. His tongue coming out to coat his own, your body flinching from the heat of his palm as it’s placed on your thigh—you knew you should have stayed in your room, gone to bed at a decent hour, not ventured to the rec room in your sleep shorts expecting no one to be awake. 
But, of course, Hangman was. Sitting on the couch, shit eating grin spread across his lips when you walked in and immediately scowled. 
Your body already feels hot but his hand just makes you feel warmer. Like you’re engulfed. A trail of fire follows up the length of your thigh as his hand moves up your leg, fingers pulling on the bottom of your shorts. Not enough to have them move to really do anything. Just enough to have you swallowing hard, breath held as Jake looks over at you, seeing no resistance. Nothing stopping him from pushing his hand under the fabric until his fingers are brushing your underwear. 
A hitch in your lungs as his index finger runs along the wet fabric. His nose brushes against the side of your cheek as his lips ghost against your ear, “We both know you don’t need anything. Anyone. You want it. Should I slip my fingers inside and show us both the proof?” The tip of his nose moves along your jawline until his lips are inches from yours, his eyes moving from your parted mouth to your eyes. “Or are you going to let me make you come again because you sounded so pretty the last time, Sweets.” 
And you can’t remember the internal fight and reasoning you’re sure you had with yourself or the convincing your sound mind might have tried to push through the desire and want, moving your body in action as mouths are pressed in hard kisses. Hands clinging and ripping fabric off of your body, nails dug into skin, before Jake’s lips latch onto your clit.
Your back arching off the leather cushions, your hands messing up his perfect hair. Knees pushed up, caging his head between your thighs. A pressure that makes deep noises vibrate against your throbbing clit when you do it. A hand at the back of your thigh grips them, keeping them there. 
“Oh my—fuck,” your chest shudders. Your breath puffy and held in your lungs until you have no choice but to let it out in a moan louder than you should. A weak moan thick with that need you don’t need. You don’t need anyone. Don’t need anything. But fuck do you need Jake’s mouth, the way his tongue moves along your clit, the way his lips wrap around and it and suck making your eyes roll back. 
Your cheeks burn hot, on fire, clammy from how good he is at this. How every time you rock your hips up against his mouth, he groans and mumbles something barely coherent as he gets lost in you. “God, Sweets,” "s'pretty," “just like that," licked, kissed, and sucked against your pussy. 
Jake eats pussy like he’s worshiping it. Like he’s carving his devotion with the tip of his tongue on all the places that make your breath catch, body contort, and walls squeeze around his fingers. And with the sounds and shakes of his chest each time you pull his hair, each time you move against him, feel your arousal gush around his fingers: it’s evident that he’s enjoying it just as much as you, if not more.
That there’s not just pleasure coursing through your body, but the both of you are soaking up each others desire, lust and pleasure with each returned moaned, arch, heavy breath. 
And when you come, your orgasm wracks through your body like a bullet that leaves you completely ruined and fucked in it’s wake. Both your hands in Jake’s hair, his eyes flashing to meet yours right as that dam breaks—the beauty of him squeezed between your thighs, mouth on your pussy too much for you to handle. 
You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying his name. 
Refusing to let yourself go that far.
But Jake apparently needs to hear it. 
Needs you to dig your fingers into his shoulder as you try to push him away from your overstimulated and sensitive pussy, his mouth continuing to lap at you. Even as you groan and contort. 
“Hangman,” you say it once, twice, three times before you’re saying “Jake!” 
You could slap the smirk off his face when he lifts his head from your thighs, tongue cleaning up the remnants of you on his lips. You scowl, too sedated to give him your full wrath. Ready to go back to your room, curl under your blankets, and ignore that this ever happened tomorrow. 
Go back to not being able to stand him. 
But then he delivers a wet kiss to your skin, his teeth nipping at the meat of your inner thigh. Already reheating your body. Your eyes focusing on his swollen lips. The pink tint of his cheeks, his blown out eyes, and the way his hair looks so much better when it’s messed up like this. Messed up because of you. 
And you’ve already forgotten about going back to your room when you put your hand on his neck and try to pull him to your mouth. His stone still body stopping you. The curve of his mouth gnaws at your lower belly in a dozen different ways. 
Your fingers dig into his neck when you try to pull him to your mouth again, failing and giving him a disapproving scowl. A needy sound wants to burst through the back of your throat.
His thumb and forefinger pinch the bottom of your chin before his palm cups it, his thumb runs along your bottom lip. “Something you want, Sweets?” 
“Fuck you,” you say, more breathless than you wish you sounded. Your teeth biting into his thumb, making a noise between a soft laugh and something animalistic shakes his throat. 
“I will,” he says in that cocky drawl that drives you insane. “Just ask nicely.” He leans forward, pulls you to him with his hand at the back of your neck. The way he now smells like you and him mixed, makes your eyes droop a little. Makes your fight die a little. “Say, 'Jake, I need it’.” 
“I don’t need anything.” 
He hums, agreeing. His free hand slips between the two of you, and you can hear fabric moving. Can feel him moving your back against the couch cushion as he hovers and bends his lower half between your thighs just right. A whimper comes from your throat like a heavy stone coughed up when you feel the head of his cock grind against your sensitive clit. 
“But you need this, don’t you?” 
You want to argue, but it’s hard when the weight of his cock feels so good, spreading you apart. Against your clit. Pressing just enough at your entrance to stretch you around his achingly large girth. Enough to make you whine when it’s torn away. 
“Tell me you need it and it’s yours, Sweets.” 
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip; the hatred, the want, and desire make your mind go to war.
”Come on,” His cock stretches your entrance again, thumb at your clit. “It’s okay to admit I’m the only thing you need,” he lets a groan slip, hot and heady against your mouth. “I won’t tell anyone. I need you just as bad. Always have, Sweets. Fuck,” he breaths as he pushes further in, back out, in. Driving you both crazy with need. 
A deep, frustrated, moan puffs from your lungs, your fingers digging into his lower back as you push your knees further up his sides to make him go deeper the next time he pushes in. The both of you letting out a breath at the same time when you say, “I need you, Jake," his arms coming up to cage your head between them as his mouth devours yours in a rough kiss. The noise you let out when he pushes himself to the hilt inside of you is disgustingly needy.
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