#im hoping this means the long brown comes back

[gloxk]

just sitting here high asf thinking about getting the sloppiest head from aot guyzzz…*HEAVY ASS SIGH* let me wish upon a star hoping someone could write about this for me…*LONG HEAVY EXTREME SIGH.*

⁺ 　 . ✦ Favorite eaters ⁺ 　 . ✦

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: ugh yes girl ik the feeling … im to sitting here wondering how nasty eren would eat the kitty…BUT ANYWAYS TYSM FOR 600!!! NEXT STOP 700!!! AHHH!

Synopsis: Aot men as your favorite eater.

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♡ Eren ♡

Ughh omg..Eren giving you nasty head after he pissed you off…The type of head that makes you run away in shame!!!

“Givin me an attitude ain’t gonna get you anywhere, you know better den that.” Eren scoffed, while tossing a blunt over to you.

Oh boy how he was so undeniably wrong.

You could tell Eren was unamused with your bullshit. He wasn’t taking you ignoring lightly at all.

“You gon fix it or am I, figure it out.” he whispered in your ear. You stood on what you dished out, you weren’t fixing shit.

You chuckled at him in response, how stupid he was to think you were going to pipe down.

That was until he found his way between your thighs..

One hand tangled in his brown locs and the other one holding a blunt. Best combo..

You lazily rutted against his tongue while his piercing twirled against your puffy clit.

It was so hard to look him in the eyes after he made you cum on his tongue 3 times.

“Still got an attitude baby?”

Let’s just say..you ain’t had one after that.

♡ Armin ♡

Oh..lawd. I said this once i’ll say it A FUCKING AGAIN. Armin is a pussy eater expert. He’s VERY talented in that ‘field’..

This man has no problem eating it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he will wake up and decide he’s hungry and start going crazy.

That’s how your morning starts..with Armin stuck between your thighs eating it so you can wake up.

Eyes barely opened and you’re already on the verge of cumming..his way of saying ‘goodmorning’.

He so eager to do it too. Sometimes yall could just be watching netflix and he will insist on eating you out.

“Well, I mean, the show is kind of boring. Just come on, it will be quick.” He’ll beg and beg, “Please, I know you’re tired, I can help you go to sleep faster!”

His contact name is NyQuil in yo phone! (If you know. you know .)

When he say fast..oh baby he mean fast. That tongue can move at speeds you didn’t even know existed.

But his favorite time to get to munching is before you go to work.

“We got 10 minutes Armin.” He don’t need even need 10 he will make you cum in 5.

♡ Connie ♡

Ex! Connie getting fucking wasted and coming back home and eating you till your cummin everywhere…

I just know he eats it with his grillz on..I just know.

You want nasty head? Connie is your man for it. He gonna make it SLOPPY SLOPPY.

“Baby whatchu mean, we supposed to be in love..” his words slightly slur, he had a fuck boy grin plastered over his face. “stop acting like you ain’t happy to see me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially when he was telling you how much he missed you. “Cmere baby i’ve been missin you..” & “I know you mad at me lemme change that.”

if ‘Let my face be yo chair’ was a person…

Sitting on his face is a pleasure to you and him. He gets to see his (ex) girlfriend and you get some head.

A win win in your books!

You grinding against his golden grills while his hands rub your waist up and down. “You got such pretty moans, lemme hear em baby.” & “Uh-huh, let it out mama.”

He’s looking you dead in your eyes while doing it too…

“You made such a mess baby. Don’t worry go to sleep, ima clean it up.” UGH THIS MAN….

best ex ever!

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going absolute feral for these men it don’t even make any sense.

#eyena writes♡ #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren yeager #aot smut #armin smut #armin x black reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #plug connie #connie x black reader #connie smut

[uglypastels]

Eddie knows you have a voice kink and decides to take advantage of it 👀

(ie not me having a voice kink, absolutely not)

this took me too long but i also tried to rewrite this like four times because ughhhhh you are so fucking real for this one. im obsessed. so yeah, i hope you enjoy it <3 and thank you for the request

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. porn without plot, straight from the beginning. voice kink, so obviously dirty talk. fingering. mention of oral (f receiving). mention of p in v sex. bondage. (soft) dom!eddie.

masterlist // inbox //

‘Fuck sweetheart, you look so pretty, all spread out for me like that,’ Eddie smirked as he looked down at you. His hair fell over your face as he leaned in for a soft kiss, and his hands found their place at your hips. You couldn’t help but arch your back, feeling that gravitational pull that Eddie exerted… as the handcuffs dug into your wrists, there was little you could do but thrust your hips his way. 

‘So—fucking—pretty.’ He muttered between kisses over your cheek and jaw. ‘Could put you in a museum. Hang you up like this. Look at you all day.’ His voice was gruff, filled with the sexual frustration you were both tortured with over the past few hours, but the cheek and humour never left him. 

‘Maybe we should, hmm?’ His low hum sent shivers all through your neck and down your spine. ‘Hang you up, I mean. I still got that hook in the ceiling from the–’ 

‘Maybe– maybe next time, Eddie.’ It wasn’t the worst idea he had come up with, but you were so far gone you couldn’t imagine yourself getting out of this bed. All you could focus on was the deep growl of his voice– the meaning of the words barely even settled in your brain. 

‘It’s a deal, baby.’ He smiled and gave you another kiss which you returned with a moan. One of his hands had found its way up to your breast, pressing into the soft skin, thumb roaming over the most sensitive parts. 

‘Eddie,’ you moaned his name out softly, receiving another hum in response. 

‘I know, baby.’ He said after you got stuck on his name for a moment or two. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll make you feel good.’ His kisses were going lower and lower. Peppering your neck, breast, and abdomen. His path was marked out clearly. ‘So, good.’

But you whined in desperation as his lips reached below your stomach. If it hadn’t felt so good, maybe you would have been quicker on the notice, but despite it all, you still had needs. 

Eddie halted in his moves at your word. His grip on you tightened securely, big brown eyes locked in on you, checking for any signs of worry. With everything put on hold, you became more conscious of the fire burning in your body for him. Couldn’t lay still, but Eddie wouldn’t move.

‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’ 

‘I don’t–’ He was so far away, and you couldn’t do anything about it with those damn handcuffs locking you in. They wouldn’t budge even at your hardest pull, and with each second, it was becoming harder and harder to think. ‘Eddie, I–’ 

‘Yeah?’ He rubbed his hand over your thigh. It must have been meant as reassurance, but all the triggers were shot up straight to your core. ‘Baby? Hey, are you still with me?’ 

‘Yes, just...’ You didn’t want to say it. Eddie raised a curious brow as you tried to spit out your wish.

‘Don’t go down on me. Not right now.’

‘Everything good down there?’ He squeezed your thigh a bit harder, a playful grin on his lips again.

‘Yes, it’s fine, fuck me if you want, just not– not with your mouth.’ 

Eddie couldn’t help the small scoff that passed his lips. ‘Ok… may I ask why?’ He tried not to look offended. You knew how much he loved this specific activity, and usually, you did too, but this time, something different got you going. 

‘Because I–’ you huffed out, ‘because I’m getting turned on by you talking right now, so I don’t want you to stop now just to eat me out.’ If you hadn’t been cuffed to the bed posts, you would have hidden underneath the covers in embarrassment. 

There was a second of silence as Eddie processed what you said. He blinked slowly and started to climb his way back up to the head of the bed. Arms on either side of you, locking you in even more. 

His lips were nearly on yours as he spoke again. ‘Speaking of talking, we should do something about this shyness of yours. You know I will do anything for you, princess, so why not just tell me? You’re a big girl, aren’t you?’ 

 ‘Y-yes.’ The small word got caught in your throat. Nevertheless, Eddie rewarded it with a brief kiss.

‘Hmm, so you want me to talk,’ he said after pulling away, ‘what should I talk about?’ 

‘Anything— sex!’ You added quickly, knowing how Eddie could be with his humour. ‘Anything that’s– you know.’ 

‘You want me to say what I wanna do to you? How I’m going to fuck you? Hmm, is that what my princess wants?’ With each word, his voice got deeper, darker. 

‘Yes, please.’  While yours became breathless, encapsulated in moans. ‘Please, Eddie.’

‘God, I love how you beg for me, how you say my name. Gonna make you scream it tonight, baby. You’re gonna be my good girl and scream for me when I stretch your tight little pussy, hmm? Will you do that for me?’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’ You squeaked out the last word when you felt his hand down on you. 

‘Thought so. Always so good for me.’ Eddie slowly started closing his fingers in on your slit, carefully approaching it with his next question too. ‘Would have loved to have my mouth on you now, sweetheart. Lick you fucking up… but my fingers will do for now, won’t they?’ He said it as if the feeling of having him deep inside you wasn’t ecstatic. Like you didn’t daydream about those fingers almost every day. 

 ‘I want them in me, Eddie. Fuck. I need it.’ And as soon as he heard it, Eddie started rubbing those close circles on your clit, getting you even more hot and bothered and ready for what was next to come. 

‘Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.’ He had a Cheshire cat smile across his face as he kept on teasing your slit. ‘All for me? All for my voice?’ 

‘You know it is.’ It wasn’t the first time you expressed your love for how Eddie sounds. You had told him on several occasions he had a hot voice, both on and off stage and in bed, but this time was certainly on a new level. Something in you felt like you could cum just from listening to him. 

‘Perhaps, but I’d still like you to say it.’ He kissed your cheek. 

‘Your voice turns me on so fucking much, Eddie.’ At this moment, he finally decided to insert his fingers and push them deep inside you. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘I fucking adore you, baby. Taking my fingers so well– shit, I can feel you clenching as I speak. Oh, you really do love it, don’t you? Just wait until I really have my way with you– oh, fuck.’ He chuckled as you reacted to his words and actions. He leaned in so his words would be directly at your ear. Soft but nasty whispers to electrify your whole being. ‘Just imagine how good it will feel when I have my cock inside you, baby. Fill you up and fuck all thoughts out of you. Until you can’t say anything but my name. Until you can’t think about anything but me.’

‘Eddiee,’ you whined as he sped up his movements, making you shake with his fingers alone. 

‘That’s right, baby. C’mon, don’t be scared to be loud. Do you know how hot you fucking sound like this? All fucked out, and because of me? Hmm, want everyone around to know how good you’re being treated here. My princess fucked like a proper queen, aren’t you?’ 

All you could do was nod. You could hear the wetness of your pussy by this point. The tight knot in your stomach was only getting worse, ready to burst, while Eddie had no intention of stopping soon. 

‘Yeah, you’re close, hmm?  Yeah, I can tell. Fuck, c’mon, come for me, baby.’ His was was so deep and aggressive that it felt more like growling. ‘Come on, my fingers. C’mon.’

When it finally happened, your whole body went limp as the pleasure overcame you.

Eddie praised you through it all, his voice now covered in honey. ‘Such a good girl. Fuck, you did so well.’ But it might have all become too much when he pulled his fingers out of you, now glistening in your juices, and put them in his mouth. He hummed with satisfaction at the taste and, once done, smiled wickedly once more and said: ‘Divine, I tell you, sweetheart. Fucking. Divine.’ His hand was soaked up to his wrist, so he went to lick his palm. ‘Might have to go in for more later on either way.’

‘Give me a moment, why don’t you,’ you laughed, out of breath.

‘Of course, of course.’ He kissed your forehead. ‘But don’t think I’m done with you just yet.’ 

the end.

yeah, kinda ironic ending there. lol. sorry.

but thank you so much for reading!! please consider supporting with comments and reblogs <3 (maybe leave a review??) I would love to see what you thought of it <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson pwp #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #pwp #fic #blurb #imagine #request

[healmyhrt]

ANGST MATT. Matt gets jealous. BOOM. THATS ALL I HAVE JELOUD MATT AND ANGST. YUHHHH !!!! DO WHATEVER YOU WILL WITH YHE STORY WE JUSR NEED ANGST😍😍😍😍

⌗ jealous, m. sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: you get lost at a party, and another guy gets the wrong idea. your anxiety getting the best of you, you quickly leave the room to find matt, only for him to get jealous at what just happened.

disclaimers!: angst, kissing, use of y/n

a/n: this sucks

i had lost matt in crowds of people, and i was pretty tempted to just find a random ride home, but i wasn’t in the mood to possibly get killed tonight.

my phone chimes, and i squint at the screen, in hopes to get a better look at it. there was a text from matt that read, “where’d you go? im dying to get out of here, not rlly that fun anymore.”

that makes two of us.

i click the call button on his contact, and hear the phone begin to ring, and then stop. i quickly look at my screen, only to see a low battery symbol. “fuck!” i yell, making people near me give a confused look.

i run into a random room, and see a bunch of people getting high. i begin moving back towards the door, when a hand grabs my wrist. “stay a little, baby. what do you have to lose?”

i look back at the boy. he looked about my age, he had tan skin, brown eyes, and long, messy, brown hair that went to his shoulders. he manspreads in front of me, and i nervously sit on his lap.

no one really pays me a bit of mind, and just goes back to getting high. the boy hands me a gummy, and gives me a smile. i take it into my palm, slowly.

“how much?” i ask. he laughs in response, and hands me the bag. i read the text, and my eyes widen. “1500?!”

he places a hand on my shoulder, and shares a sweet smile. “don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” i nervously look back at the table, and everyone’s staring at me.

the boy under me, slowly moves his hand closer and closer to my inner thigh. im practically sweating my face off, as my anxiety gets the better of me.

i jump up off of the boys lap, and run out of the door. i hit someone’s chest, and look up to see matt. “oh, thank god!” i squeeze him tightly, and he hugs me back uncomfortably.

“hey, come back, baby.” the boy in the room says, laughing. matt raises an eyebrow at him, and i grasp his wrists, making him follow behind me.

“y/n, what the fuck was that? who is he?”

i keep pushing through crowds of people, until we make it outside. we’re almost to the car, when matt lets his wrists become free of me. “y/n, stop.”

i stand still for a moment, and turn around, staring at the pavement. “what was that? are you okay?”

matt walks closer to me, and slowly places his hand in mine. i grasp his hand tighter, interlocking our fingers. i look up, and softly press my lips against his.

matt pulls away quickly, and looks down at me. he gently grips my jaw, and makes me look directly at him.

“who was he?” he asks, enunciating every word.

i grab his wrist, and slowly remove his hand from my jaw, smiling. “jealous?” i turn around, and continue walking to the car. matt follows behind me, and i can almost hear the anger in his voice as he tries to remain calm.

“no…” he starts, “i mean, i shouldn’t be jealous, you aren’t even mine.” he tugs on his bottom lip.

i stop at the car, and begin to walk over to my side.

i lean against the car door, and matt stands in front of me, towering over me. “what’s that you said at the party last week?” i tease, “i own you?” i smile, mimicking his voice.

he places one arm against the car, next to my shoulder. matt leans in closer to me, eyes staring at my lips.

“fine.”

he stands up straight again, sighing. i move out of the way, and he opens the door for me.

the drive back is quiet, but had been broken many times by matt dramatically sighing.

“what?” i finally say, as we stop at a red light. he gives me an angry sigh, and clenches his jaw.

“no, say what you’ve been wanting to say for these last 40 something minutes. please, matt.” i spat out in a snarky tone.

he quickly turns to me. “i don’t know what you and that guy had going on up in that room, but it ends now.”

i look at him, my smile fading. “okay, matt.”

“im so fucking serious, y/n. you don’t know how much of what you do has an impact on me. all i’ve wanted was to be with you, and then i see you go and pull some stupid shit like that.” he looks back at the road.

“im sorry.” i shrink in my seat. matt stares at the road, as the light turns green. i slowly inch my hand closer and closer to his, and interlock our fingers again.

the rest of the ride is silent, until he pulls up outside of his house.

“still jealous?”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt

[shadowhearts-ponytail]

comforting abby anderson after patrol!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

a/n: I love abby, and she needs love. she's a big baby. also, I will be writing more after New years due to Christmas and my birthday being so soon! enjoy! credit to @whore4abby 's bot on c.ai! used the intro to get some ideas! go show them some love!

warnings: not necessarily angst. but abby is sad and vulnerable and needs your support. petnames (baby, babe, baby girl, pretty girl) mostly used for abby bc i think she deserves to be called baby girl and pretty girl. not proofread.

words: 1k-ish

Abby returns from her patrol, her skin littered with a few new cuts and bruises. she walks into her room, taking off her jacket and placing her things down gently. she pulls the hair tie from the end of her braid and runs her calloused hands through her hair to loosen it, groaning in relief as she looks over at the bed.

"baby… you awake….?"

you're sleeping, or you were, until Abby's voice stirs you from your slumber. you shift in bed and roll over to face the muscled blonde where she stands in front of you. you grumble and open your eyes before speaking, "I was, Abs. but I'm awake now. how was the patrol?"

your eyes follow your tall lover as she takes her dirty brown boots off, even though she's already left a trail of dirt in your quarters. she sits them by the door and stands by the bed, looking down at you. you notice a cut under her plump lips, right above her chin. a small trail of blood running down her chin from the cut.

abby frowns at the cut, wiping the blood against her rough hand before she notices you frowning at it. her lips turn into a sheepish smile, "i’m fine. really. it only stings a little.”

she takes a step towards you, sitting beside you on the bed. it sinks under her weight. “just couldn’t let a rookie go out alone. that’s my job.” she gives you a playful smile for a split second to hide her real emotions, but it fades, and she looks away.

you sleepily tug Abby closer to you. "Let me see the cut, babygirl."

abby rolls her eyes, and nods after a breath of a second, leaning down toward you and letting you inspect it. “fine. just don’t be too long about it, okay? im fine” her tone has an edge to it, one it usually lacks around you, as if she doesn’t want to admit that she’s letting you baby her. but her cheeks burn bright red when she feels your soft hands caress her cheeks to angle her head and see the cut better.

you wipe some blood from the cut and move to get up and grab a small first aid kit you kept under your bed. "Come here, pretty girl."

abby’s entire face is flushed red at the words 'pretty girl', and she’s breathing just a bit fast now, as she shifts closer to you and waits for you to do your thing. her fists clenched tightly as her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. in this state she’s vulnerable and almost childlike….

you kiss Abby's cheek in hopes to calm the taller woman. you clean the cut and disinfect it then put the items away once you're done. you looks at Abby with a bright smile that fills her with a warm feeling, "All better, baby. are you hungry?"

abby’s gaze is lowered, hiding her blush. she looks like she wants to protest, but her stomach growls loudly. “yeah..i could go for a bite.”

in reality, this whole little routine, coming back to your quarters and having you take care of her after patrol, it’s starting to make her feel weird.. like shes not being strong and independent or doing the things people expect her to do. her stomach growls again.

“i mean…if you’re offering…”

"Babe... what's wrong?" you ask as you place your hands on your hips with a small frown. "Talk to me. you can talk to me, baby. you know that."

Abby sighs and shakes her head a little. “i just… people make such a big deal about all this… protecting me, caring for me. I know I do these things for others and I should expect the same in return.. but it all just feels so… soft. I don't know.. i never expected to feel weak like this and…”

her speech trails off as the corners of her mouth twitch into a slight pout, like she's not sure if she's upset or not.

you frown a bit more, but your expression softens as you sit next to Abby.

"Well... I don't think it makes you weak to be taken care of. you're allowed to be vulnerable. especially with me. we're lovers, Abby. I love you. and I want to care for you. I want to cook for you and wash your hair and rub your back before bed. I want to make you happy and as comfortable as you can be."

you offer your hand to Abby as if to ask to hold her hand. "You're still the toughest girl out there. even if you have someone take care of you at times, baby. I mean, you can lift me up like it's nothing." you joke a bit with a big smile to ease Abby, then you lean over to kiss the blonde's cheek.

Abby laughs a little and leans into the kiss, her expression relaxing as you speak to her. her cheeks are still a bit red, but the lightness of her smile can be seen. she reaches out for the hand, and squeezes it firmly.

"well… if you’re willing to put up with my grumpy moods and childishness… i guess i’ll accept the care…”

she leans closer and gives you a little kiss on the cheek, as a sign of thanks for putting up with her weird moods.

"Always. I mean you put up with me all the time. and I think we both know I'm a handful." you laugh then wrap Abby in a warm hug.

"Come here and let me kiss you, silly girl!"

Abby lets out a soft little groan at the hug, as if to pretend it hurt, and then leans up to press her lips against yours softly. her lips are chapped and slightly swollen from the harsh outdoor conditions, but they’re still very soft like usual.

"you are a handful, but somehow you’ve won me over… i don’t know how..” her voice is more of a teasing whisper as she leans into your embrace and wraps her arms around you tightly in a warm hug.

"I think I know how..." you tease back and move to kiss all across her face. "With my stellar kissing skills!"

Abby squeaks as she’s kissed all along her cheeks and forehead. her cheeks were already a bit red from simply being hugged, but now they were bright red and hot to the touch. she groans again and laughs. “that… that is very true… you’re a very good kisser.”

you laugh at Abby a bit, then jump up to pull Abby up from the bed along with you. "Come on. let's get you a snack."

a/n: I love her ur honor! feedback is always welcome!

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #abby tlou #abby and lev #abby angst #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby and ellie #abby anderson the last of us 2 #mine #the last of us 2

[thebestandrealestever]

~NOT YOU TOO!~

miles1610/hobie brown x black fem! reader

sum: miles cheats on reader w gwen, reader gets even 🤷🏽‍♀️

warnings : slang, the n word, cursing, cheating . emotional cheating. READER BEING PETTY unedited and not proofread

genre: angst, a lil of comfort?

a/n:i rly hope it don’t disappoint, part 2 w miles and reader make up eventually, cause i can’t stand writing miles as a dickhead. JUST A STORY, I DONT CONDONE CHEATING, DONT THIS TO PEOPLE.

- - - - - - - - - <\3 - - - - - - - - - -

first time in a long time.

hurting deeply inside .

there it was. the confirmation you so desperately needed to blow off on miles. you’d suspected he was messing with gwen for a little while now, him leaving you too go on missions with her that ONLY they knew about, being on facetime with her while he was at YOUR house, his highlight on instagram for her, not to mention the countless drawings of her around his room that he hid horribly, just a bunch of weird shit. you had conversations about it before but he always reassured you and gaslit you until you shook of the accusations. but now, now you knew he was cheating. miles was in the shower he left his phone on the nightstand, you looked long and hard at it. debating whether if it was a invasion of privacy, as you thought about it you get more and more upset. if gwen could be an invasion of your relationship then this didn’t really matter. you pick up the phone and put the password it, it’s his birthday (narcissist 🙄.) you go to gwen’s message thread, the blue heart next to it made you infuriated. your stomach twist and your eyes leak with tears that you don’t even try to wipe not wanting to miss anything. all of the “i love you’s” and the “im with her right now’s” made your fingers tremble as you scrolled farther into their text. why did he waste his time with you if he loved her? why would he do that to you? when did he fall out of love? what did you do? your thoughts quickly interrupted by the sound of the shower turning off you jumped up turned the phone off and put it in the same downward facing position wiping your face speed walking back to the bed pretending to watch tv.

“what’s going on now , ma?“ he asked referring to the episode you were watching. your face turned as you came up with a lie. “uh nothing really they just found out she was pregnant” you huffed, you’ve never been a good liar and miles could read your emotions like they were his own, you had no idea how you were going to go the rest of the night with him, so you didn’t. getting up from the bed you acted like your mom texted you to come home, frowning looking at the fake text. miles squinted at your pout, walking closer to you he said,

“you okay?” “my mom said i had to come home, she’s going out tonight and wants me to watch my sister, she’s sick” miles fake frowned “you want me to come with you?” he suggested walking to his drawers to get some clothes. you shook your head no “i don’t want you to get sick, it’s fine i’ll just facetime you okay?” you said as you picked up your purse and put on your shoes. “okay at least lemme drive you home. can’t have my baby walking alone in the dark.” he joked as he put on his own shoes and jacket too. you internally cringed at his sentence reminded of who he also called his “baby”.

trust, trust who?

watching my back even when i’m in the booth.

ohh, trust who?

you’re in the passenger seat of his car, seeing the blue hair tie in the cup holder that wasn’t yours. you stared at it for a bit rethinking your entire relationship. he glanced at you, then the hair tye. he spoke up rubbing your thigh trying to get your mind off of it. “u wanna go to the mall tomorrow? we can get froyo.” he suggested knowing that you liked the froyo place in the mall, you knew he was trying to make you happy so you wouldn’t question the hair tye you just went along with it.

“yea okay.” you smiled warmly at miles not meaning it at all. his phone buzzed and you both looked down at it, the speed of which he grabbed it in was almost inhumane. you side eyed him closely as he swiped the opened the message then turned his phone off placing it into the cup holder facing away from you. as you pulled up to your house he leaned forward to peck your cheek, you couldn’t stand the feeling of his lips on your skin right you. “bye mami, facetime me later okay?” he whispered as he looked into your eyes with that same look on his face that made you swoon once before. “okay, i will” you said knowing you weren’t. as soon as you got into your room you cried, searching in your mind for a clue on why he was doing this to you. you’d tears interrupted once again as your phone buzzed, who was calling you and why couldn’t they go away ?? you checked it as a small smile speared on your face it was margo. margo kess had been your best friend since before you met miles, she worked at the same spidey agency he did , or whatever the fuck it was called. you answered wiping your tears. she was eating unti she saw your expression. “what happened??? why you crying boo?” she frowned at you through the screen “miles is cheating on me with gwen, i checked his phone” you chuckled through sniffles as her jaw dropped “what the fuck?? u exposed him his ass right ??” she shouted and you shook your head “i was in denial i guess, i still can’t believe this shit” “you know what you gotta do right?” she said and your face turned into a confused expression “what i gotta do?” she rolled her eyes “get even duhhhhh!! you way to pretty to let this nigga cheat on you with a big back ass bitch you know that.” you snorted at her compliment “ion know mar, maybe gwen didn’t know we was dating” you said trying to express grace to gwen.

“bitch how?? all that nigga do is talk about you, not to mention youre his lock screen.” you tilted your head in agreement, she spoke up again “and you been told his ass all that shit he did with gwen was weird and he didn’t stop it? if he wanna act nonchalant you can act notchabitch” margo smiled as she her attempt to cheer you up worked. “speak of the damn devil, guess who texted me.” you smirked as margo raised her eyebrow “don’t tell me you talm bout hobie.” you tried to fight the smile on your face as you clicked on his message

“hey, wyd rn?” the text read. margo sighed as she saw the smile on your face “HOBIE. HOBART BROWN?? really (name)? well i mean the way he looks at you is crazy, and i been saying y’all would be mad cute .” she shrugged as she resolved up her own feelings, you nodded as you thought about it . was this really what you wanted to do? hurt miles? nonono if he didn’t care about hurting you he can’t say shit when you do it back. you texted hobie back “nun rn, wby?” and he replied almost instantly “im bored, lemme come over?” you almost laughed at how you realized that hobie has never cared about your relationship with miles . you told him yes and you said your goodbyes to margo as you got ready for him to come over, eyes burning as you saw the multiple hoodies that miles owned .

“hey love.” hobie said as he walked into your room from the window, you always noticed hoboes accent but you never noticed how attractive it was until now. “hey hobie.” you said as he lifted your chin up with index and thumb. “you’ve been crying? what happened ?” he said trying to read your face. “um nothing just stuff with miles” he almost winced at the mention of miles, he would offen tell you that he wasn’t good for you, guess he was right. “what did he do now. something when gwen again i bet” you sighed deeply remember the messages in his phone again. “yea, he’s cheating i just found out.” hobie eyebrows furrow as you say this, if he didn’t like the way miles was treating you before, he definitely hated him now.

“i was just joking but, really? what the fuck? after everything you’ve done for him? i’m gonna murder him i swear to g-“ “hobie no, no don’t say anything. i’m fine i’m gonna deal with it myself.” you say pushing him back with your fingers. “at least let me make you feel better.” he said giving you a tight hug. he smirked as he said “you know i’d never make you feel like that.” you snorted into his chest pulling away, hobie grabbed your face with both hands and kissed your forehead. “you don’t deserve this ,(name) you deserve the entire world” he muttered , looking down at you with so much care. stand on your tipe toes to kiss hobie, he doesn’t kiss back for a while in shock but then he reciprocates it and you know you shouldn’t do this, that’s the exact reason why you did it anyway . you pull away looking up into his deep brown eyes, you needed this, comfort from someone that wasn’t hurting you. someone that wasn’t him. he kissed you again more aggressively this time. he pulls away this time only to catch his breath. he pecks your lips once , then twice. he smiles at you then walks to the bed and turns on the tv, you thought it was weird but you also didn’t want to talk about it, and definitely didn’t wanna do anything further. after watching tv with him at a uncomfortable distance you decide to address the elephant in the room.

“so, we not gon talk about that?” you turn off the tv before turning your head to look at him and he does the same “we don’t have to, you know i like you. but i don’t think you need that tonight, i think you just need me here.” he said and honestly, he was right. even though he had you all the way fucked up onna tuesday, you still loved him. you just nod at hobie and he kisses your cheek wrapping his arms around you so he’s spooning you, the way hobie is holding makes you think that he’s the only boy in the world. he falls asleep and you lie awake looking at the ceiling, you decide to go on instagram looking at people’s story until you see gwen’s story, it was a picture of her and miles in his car her feet up on the dashboard, the same car you were just in, the same car you had your first kiss in. that’s not even the half of it, the picture had a “besties” caption on it but you could tell from 20 miles away they were far from that. you take a picture of hobie asleep and post it, tagging him too copying the same caption as gwen had. after maybe 20 minutes miles replies to it “wtf? why are you letting hobie touch you like that? and i thought u had to watch your sister” “and i thought you and gwen were besties?” you reply back sending him the screenshots you send to your phone if gwen and miles text he starts blowing u up like crazy but you put your phone down and snuggle closer into hobie, maybe you could get even.

doing my own thing,

i’m down to come clean,

not like you.

lmk wat u think 😭.

#black reader #miles morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #1610 miles x reader #hobie brown #hobie my beloved #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobart brown #gwen stacy #gwen x miles #margo kess #spider byte #female reader #Spotify

[crimsonbubble]

Goddd we need you to write a Dom!johnny fic now, my head is pounding over this… :[ daddy issues users we stay winning!!,,, (do we really tho?😭)

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, implied overstimulation, implied breeding kink, creampies *not proofread, just pure horny

[I mean technically all my fics are dom johnny bc im a submissive whore but anyways-] I hope this suffices bc I've had this idea for far too long 😭😭

Older bf!Johnny who has you ride him without his help after you said that you could do it yourself. His hands propped up behind his head as he watched you struggle to find your pace. His usual soft brown eyes are hidden being blown out pupils, a glaze of lust over his lidded eyes.

Older bf!Johnny who bucks his hips up randomly to throw you off balance. He'll ignore your begs and pleas for him to grab your hips and move you along his cock like a toy. "You gotta ride me yourself, baby. You said you could."

Older bf!Johnny who tries to act all unbothered but can't help the way his cock twitches and throbs inside you. Clenching down around him so hard that he grabs your hips and lifts you off him. He's unbelievably hard and you're not making it easy for him.

Older bf!Johnny who flips you onto the couch and pins your hips down so he can fuck into you as he pleases. Moving your body so easily as he pumps you full of him. Pushes in as deep as he can before coming inside you. Pulls out just to push what leaks out back in and keep going.

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader smut #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage smut #mk11 x reader #johnny cage mk11 #mk11 johnny cage

[hungharrington]

Please send help im PLAGUED by thoughts of giving Steve the sloppy blowie of his life like him sitting on the sofa and being between his legs looking up at him with all the love of the world bc he deserves it!! he deserves to be loved!! and yes ofc i wanna get facefucked but yk it's about the sweetness!!! like looking up at him with teary eyes, smiling with ribbons of spit still connecting us, resting my cheek against his cock even though it's messy or precisely because it's messy, and just adoring him. Ik he'd have the orgasm of his life!! so overwhelmed by love and sweetness but also the intimacy and how hot he is <333

plagued fucking inDEED my god sorry this took absolute months my love so i hope u enjoy this! hoping 2 write a little more in next couple weeks so feel free 2 pop in my inbox! gn!reader, oral (steve receiving), luv <3 as always, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

There’s a tremble in his thighs.

Steve can’t help it, the muscles pulled taut as he tries his best to keep his hips from rolling forward. Your mouth is hot and glossy, lips stretched his cock, and Steve is in fucking heaven.

He can feel his chest flushing hot at the mere on sight of you on your knees before him. You look a dream, down to just your panties and bra in that colour that suits you so fucking well.

But it’s not that that has him feeling so unraveled so quickly. It’s the adoring look in your eye— peering up at him through your lashes, the faint teary eyed look, while his cock weighs heavy on your tongue.

You’ve been working him up for god knows how long, stroking and licking, aiming for that state you go crazy for; all whimpers and whines. He’s almost there, the buzzing lust the lingers under his skin dialling up and up.

“S-Shit, baby.” Steve curses, fingers in your hair tightening as you take him back down, your spit drooling down the length of him. Fire flares hot in his tummy. His hips buck up, searching for more heat to bury into and you take him gratefully. Steve groans, low and jaggedly.

“F-Fuck,” He says, the beginning of a whine sinking into his voice. “Oh, fuck— ngh— I can’t-”

His grip in your hair gets that little bit tighter and you can see the quiver in his thighs increase as he holds himself back from fucking into your mouth. It takes effort. You reward him with a soothing stroke up his thigh, a hand coming up to play with his balls.

It makes him whimper, sharp and high, and you can tell the thrust up of his hips is involuntary — Steve’s hushed and hurried murmured apologies as his hand strokes sweetly over your hair.

You pull off, your hand taking the place of your mouth quickly. You pump it quickly, slicking your thumb over the slit, spreading the precum the beads there over and over.

“S’okay, baby,” You say, voice low and sultry. “Didn’t mean it, I know. You know this is lovin’ time.”

You kiss down his cock between your words til you reach the base, giving one or two to the crease of his tan thigh. You nuzzle in, enjoying the way it makes him quiver. His tummy has tightened up and his cock twitches, his beautiful eyes hidden away from you as his scrunches his face up.

“Stevie,” You coo. You lick up the length of him and tease the tip of his cock with your tongue, your free hand soothing along his hairy thigh again. “Open your eyes f’me, please.”

He does as you ask, brown eyes peeking up. He’s positively flushed, cheeks scarlet and chest bearing that very shade. It rises and falls with his breath and his tummy rolls, clenching and unclenching as you see him hold back from fucking his hips up into your slow moving hand. You think you could watch him like this for hours.

“Good boy,” You praise, delighted in how a whine scrapes out his throat without warning.

“Just wanna say I love you,” You pout, hand on his cock increasing in speed, twisting and squeezing. Steve keens, his cock twitching violently in your hand and you have to push his hips back into the sofa with your spare hand to keep him still.

You lap at the head of his cock for a moment, kitten licks that drive him closer and closer to his edge. Whimpers fall freely from his lips.

“Love your cock,” you whisper, knowing he can hear you when you’re this close. The amount he’s leaking over your hand makes your motions loud and lewd, wet squelches as you pull him off. “Love making you feel good.”

“You do— christ, fuck, you make me f-feel so fucking good.” His breathes are all stuttering now, an indication of his rising climax.

You stretch your mouth around him again and moan at the feel of him, the salty precum dribbling from the head and the hardness that pulses against your tongue. His cock twitches in your mouth at the same time Steve cries out and throws his head back. His fingers flex tightly in your hair and a string of words fall out his mouth.

“I’m gonna— I’m gonna- oh fuck, aw fuck, baby— baby- mmfm, love you- I’m gonna—”

His hand flies to his mouth and he sinks his teeth into his knuckles, muffling the throaty groan he makes as his cum hits your tongue. You keep moving, suckling while your hand jerks him hard and fast, warm pulsating at your core as his moans melt into those whimpers and whines you adore. Poor baby, you think, because he always cums so much. You take it all, milking his orgasm and pulling every whimper and whine out as he shakes beneath you.

It takes another minute before he’s easing you off with a tug of your hair, breathless and looking fucking beautiful. You pull off and spit into your hand, wiping it on your thigh, just as out of breath as he. Still, you nuzzle closer and press a kiss to the inside of his thighs, then another, then another— til Steve’s urging you up as he leans down, his lips capturing your own.

#couldn’t figure out how to end it ! oh well ! #jay writes #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #if this is terrible…. dont tell me 🙅‍♀️ #if u think this is good….. come tell me so many times :)

[taking-a-cupcake]

fem!beast dazai x fem!reader idk

content warnings: overstim, orgasm denial, fingering idk, kissing, wlw ;-;

——

Your breath comes out in shaky gasps. Her long, messy dark brown hair falls in waves around her face, she was literally so so fine (guys im drooling)

You knew she was the port mafia boss—

Without a word, Dazai takes your hand and leads you into her bed. She pushes you down onto the soft sheets and pins your wrists above your head

With that, she begins to kiss and nibble down your neck, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. You let out a moan as she sucks on a particularly sensitive spot, and she smirks against your skin. 'So responsive, aren't you?' she teases.

Dazai continues her exploration, leaving marks on your thighs and a few bite marks between your legs. Your body is already aching for release, but Dazai has other plans. She leans back and looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Dazai just leans in and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. Her hand slowly trails down your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She reaches between your legs and starts to lightly stroke your clit, making you gasp and arch your back.

Just when you think you can't take it anymore, Dazai stops and pulls away, leaving you aching and desperate for more. “Please.” You beg, trying to buck your hips against her hand.

She just laughs and shakes her head. 'Not yet,' she says, her voice husky with desire. 'I want to hear you beg for it.'

And beg you do, as Dazai continues to tease and torment you with her hands and lips. She brings you to the brink of ecstasy and then stops, denying you release once again. But just when you think you can't take it anymore, she changes her tactics and starts to overstimulate you, her fingers moving faster and harder against your slick walls.

The pleasure is almost unbearable, and you can feel yourself on the edge of climax. 'Dazai,' you moan, your voice pleading for mercy.

But she only speeds up her movements, sending you over the edge into an orgasm. You cry out her name as waves of pleasure wash over you, your body trembling and shaking beneath her.

Dazai finally stops and looks at you with a satisfied smirk. 'You're so beautiful,' she says, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 'I could watch you all day.'

You're too weak and sated to reply, but you can't help but smile at her words. Dazai leans in and kisses you softly, her touch now gentle and loving. 'I hope you're ready for more, because I'm not done with you yet,' she whispers, a glint of mischief still in her eye.

And with that promise, Dazai continues to show you the true meaning of pleasure, leaving you gasping and moaning under her skilled touch. And though she may deny your orgasms, the end result is always worth it.

…

ermm…..

#bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai smut #osamu dazai smut #dazai x reader smut #bsd x reader smut #fem dazai smut

[bunnimatsu]

Now what about dom Matsus 😈

im tryna clear out my inbox so, thank you anon for this one!

tag(s): nothing too hardcore but if it’s too much for you, i’m sorry!, lowkey cringe, nsfw, dom matsus, not really edited and its basically just me horny talking and pulling it out of my ass, brat tamer karamatsu (that one’s for you @thebardisabird and @squidzza , I DID IT)

i tried to finish this as fast as i could.

osomatsu, who’s absolutely merciless when it comes to pounding you. he’ll grip your hips and slam himself into you over and over again, never slowing his pace down as wanton cries leave your lips. when you throw your head back in ecstasy, a smirk forms on his lips. he leans down and nearly whispers in your ear: “yeah you like that? tell oso how it feels…~ say it~” and when you can only let out cries and whimpers, his hand comes down on the fat of your ass and thighs while demanding you say who’s making you feel this good.

karamatsu, who’s a brat tamer. he’s the second oldest. he has younger brothers who get on his fucking nerves, you think he has time for YOUR shit, [name]? imagine: you’ve spent a looong time dragging him around the mall and doing things YOU wanted but the one time he wanted to do something, you whined a little and said no. kara had it rough the day prior and he thought shopping with you today would ease his mind but that little stunt made him snap. he grabbed your chin and tilted it up to look at him, his eyes a darker brown than you originally thought. he looked mean… “darling…i’ve spent so long trying to please you today…just like how you deserve..but the one time i ask for something i want…i get a no and a whine.. i’m very tired, cherie…” you’ve never seen him like this before and to be honest, it made you squirm a little. “you’re going into this store and shutting that pretty little mouth…understood?”

and that was the night karamatsu absolutely rocked your shit. hands tied to the bed post and having no mercy on your pretty body.

choromatsu, who no longer gets nervous around you and started to show the strict side of him. at first, he was always careful when it came down to spending a night with him. gentle caresses and slow yet nervous kisses down your body, asking ‘i-is that okay..?’. you loved it, sure, but you wanted more. you knew what choromatsu was capable of, especially when it comes down to being mean. you see it when he’s badgering at his brothers, yelling at them for being lazy pieces of shit and…ordering them around. to be honest, it was kind of sexy. he was a little shocked when you asked him if he can apply that kind of behavior in bed but he didn’t oppose to it. so naturally, you found yourself facing a mirror while you were sat on his lap, bouncing on his cock. his hands made their way up to your chest to tweak your nipples and when you tilt your head back in pleasure, he firmly grabs your cheeks and makes you look into the mirror again. “don’t look away. i told you not to look away.”

ichimatsu, who always has to have you bound. gagged, on a good day. he puts you in positions you didn’t even know existed and it leaves your poor muscles sore the next day. ichi loves to get rough with you, treating you like you’re his prey while he’s the predator. your entire body would always be covered in bruises and bite marks and it makes him always smirk in pride. he always leaves your legs shaking, whether he’s drilling into your sopping wet pussy or driving his tongue deep into you, hoping to get more and more of your sweet essence. more. ichi wants more of you. and he’ll do anything to get it.

jyushimatsu, who pins you against anything and everything. there isn’t a single piece of furniture in your house that’s untouched by you and him. he’ll have sex with you at any chance he gets if you ask him. he’ll hold you up against the wall, his biceps flexing a bit in his compression long sleeve as he pistons his hips into yours. the usual wide-mouthed smile he has on his face is replaced with a look of concentration, focused on your body and how it reacts to his touch. but that also quickly fades back to his smile as he looks at you and laughs almost joyously, “am i making you feel good?”

todomatsu, who loves to tease you. light feather touches as you sit in your chair at the mixer he took you to. you knew what he was doing, and by god, did it make you squirm a bit. it all started because atsushi was sat across from you. you were just being friendly to the guy, chatting like how you normally would. but todomatsu hated that. he didn’t like the way his ‘friend’ looked at you. only he was allowed to look at you like that, why were you letting him? and then you felt it. todomatsu’s hands gently rubbing your thigh. you looked down at his hand then up at him, moving your leg away then going back to talking to atsushi. mistake #1. he didn’t like that, so he took it a bit further. when atsushi started talking to the others at the table, you felt your boyfriend’s hand dip between your thighs, brushing against your heat slightly. you jerked forward and played it off as something else when atsushi asked if you were okay. todomatsu retracted his hand as if nothing happened, giving you a stupid coy smile. that night when you two went home, your legs were immediately spread open while he worked the vibrator against your aching cunt. you cried for forgiveness as you made a mess for what seemed like the hundredth time. he smiled sadistically as he cooed at you. “i don’t think you really are sorry~”

—————————————————————————

and that’s that!

sorry if it’s underwhelming, writing’s still not my strong suit.

anyway, i have to tell you guys agaaiiinnn, my ask box regarding writing is closed so please, don’t send me stuff unless i say otherwise 🥹

other than that, love ya!

- jarvis <3

#jarvis.fics #osomatsu san #mr. osomatsu x reader #osomatsu san imagines #osomatsu san smut #mr. osomatsu smut #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu

[purinfelix]

back home ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

pairing: joão félix x reader (established relationship) summary: after a solo trip away, you're a little worried about how your boyfriend might react to your return warnings: none, angst if you squint hard enough maybe? w/c: 770

a/n: HELLO IM ALIVEE im sorry for being so ia akjdnsa no excuse i'm just lazy ... but in the mean time i did go on a trip with some friends (which is what inspired me to write this lol) and went to my first in person football match !!! anw hope yall take this as my apology for being so inactive <3333

“It’s only two weeks.” 

That’s what you told your boyfriend months before you had begun planning your solo trip, knowing he was the type to fret over you and whether you were organised enough. You continued repeating this phrase to him leading up to your departure - you had mumbled it into his hair, whispered it into his ear, and even shouted it across rooms when he raised his protests. Whenever he would think a little too hard about how long it would feel for two people who never seemed to spend more than a couple of hours apart. Even so, you appreciated his worrying over you, taking it as a sign of him caring for you. 

But now, two weeks later, as you fidgeted nervously in the backseat of the taxi he had called for you to take home from the airport you found yourself repeating the phrase again, only now to yourself. It felt as though the moment you two had separated, all of Joao’s worrying had found a new home within you, and you had already begun counting down until your reunion. This was only made worse by the fact that it seemed your boyfriend was growing more and more comfortable in his solitude - and ultimately, your absence. It worried you to see this, as much as you could through the frame of your phone screen during each of your nightly facetimes. 

Even now as you stood fumbling with the keys to your shared apartment, you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying. What if he had come to enjoy his ‘alone time’, and took it as a sign to distance himself? What if this distancing led to him spending time away from you, or even worse - a breakup? As your mind wandered to the worst-case scenario, you pushed open the door with trembling hands. 

A tuft of brown hair peeking out from above the couch cushions let you know your boyfriend was home. Your many bags slipped off your arms and fell to a heap on the floor with a soft thump, the sound alerting Joao. 

You braced yourself, ready for a scowling expression or even one that was completely vacant. Ready for him to scoff, stand up and walk out of the room, disinterested at your return. Or for him to begin telling you about how he had already begun moving out, and how maybe this time apart had done you both some good. 

“Oh, thank god.” 

His voice was soft, fragile almost, as it broke the silence between you two, followed shortly by the padding of his feet as he rushed over to you. His body crashed into yours, sheer force sending you a couple of steps backwards and any worries that plagued your mind far, far away. If it wasn’t for how tightly he was holding you, hands digging into your shoulders, you were sure you would’ve fallen over. 

You struggled to muster up more worrying thoughts, overwhelmed by the warmth of his body pressed up against yours, the feeling of his embrace. You let out a deep sigh, not of fatigue or frustration but pure relief, feeling yourself melt into his touch. 

“I missed you,” he muttered, face pressed into your hair as if he was afraid letting you go might cause another two weeks apart. 

“I missed you too,” you heard yourself admit, words muffled against his chest. But he still understood you, which he made clear by squeezing you even tighter. 

It felt like forever before you broke apart, but still not enough as Joao continued to press gentle kisses to your temple, lingering with each one as if trying to show you just how much he had missed you. Finally, he brushed past you to shut the door and pick your several bags off the floor - bags which had required much effort for you to haul around but he managed to pick up with much ease. 

“Welcome home,” you can hear the smile in his voice, even though he’s faced away from you as he begins to walk to your shared bedroom. You watch him disappear around a corner, and he begins telling you about how his plans to surprise you at the airport with a bunch of flowers were ruined by training running overtime. You’re still in the doorway, a little dizzy - from jetlag, from a lack of sleep and proper food, from how hard he squeezed you in that hug. Even so, you feel a smile tug at your own lips because even though it was ‘only’ two weeks, you couldn’t be more glad to be back home. 

#joao felix #fc barcelona #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix fanfic #joao felix fluff #joao felix oneshot #football fanfic #football #oneshot #purinfelix #jet writes ★

[xhanelia]

thank you for writing my request! I practically inhaled every word of it. I hope your stuffy nose gets better soon. If it isn't too much, could I please request gekko and sova with a fellow agent that likes to bring them gifts every time they come back from a mission? Thank you!

(also can I please be sova lover anon?)

Hello again darling! Im so happy that you liked it! And ofc you can be the sova lover anon. Just write down your name at the end of the request so that i know its you.

I have never write gekko or read any fic about him so if its bad im so sorry. :(

<<<Reader is gn and an agent from the protocole. >>>

Sova and Gekko with a gift-giving reader

You regret the choice you made afew days ago. Going through a mountain mission in winter. Being with Sova is heartwarming enough but your body isnt warming up. At least you can get hypothermia happily.

You wanted to bring a gift with you like you always did. Reminding you of that core memories about the missions and a little cheer that youre still alive after all that.

But on top of a snowy mountain? Yeah you gotta search if you do not end up meeting elsa herself.

As the thoughts went through your mind, you got scared by something hitting the operator you were holding. It was this close you ended up firing an accidant shot and reveal your position.

"Hey, what happened?" Sova turned to you. You look at what might have hit your face and opeartor from the sky.

It was an owl. A small one too. It was trying to get up from the snow it got stuck on but it doesnt seem to be working. You picked it up with your two hands. Unsure about how to hold an owl, you tried to keep it as steady as possible. The little animal was squeling and trying to break free.

Sova kneel to your level and hold one of its wings and open it a bit. The owl shout out more. "It must have got hurt. Lets build up the tent here." The russian man said while standing up.

Sova managed to patch the little bird up with the help of yours. The owl wasnt squeling anymore and seemed to be more friendly to both of you.

"You wanna give it a name?" You said to Sova while the bird ran around the tent. "You found it first. Whats your suggestion?" He said. You thought a bit about it but it wasnt too long for you to come up with the perfect name.

"Sasha!" The man named 'Sasha' looked at you with curiosity on his face. "What?" You laughed at the confusion. "No, i meant the owls name. Lets name it Sasha, since Sova means owl too." (Anybody who read headcannons i wrote, this is how you found the owl, darlings.)

He laughed at the excitement of yours. It was a bit emberrasing to him, naming something before him. But he liked the idea you have. "Alright, lets name it Sasha."

As the mission completed, you get ready to take the double Sashas to the HQ. (you know that Brim wouldnt allow one of them inside but hey, Skye can have a whole zoo, whats wrong with just an injured baby owl?) Then you find a feather that fell from the little guy you guys temporarily adopted. Now this was something to worth keeping.

As you arrive at the HQ, you give the feather to Sova. "There wasnt anything worth to be a gift on top of a mountain but the most remarkable one was 'Sasha'. And we both know Brim will find it out soon and make us release it so, here. I want you to have it." You said to the man that is walking near you.

He take the feather and smiled at it. "Thank you. I will keep this with me." Your way of thinking made his heart warm up.

But before you release the owl, Sova managed to collect two more feathers and made them fit on the end of a handmade arrow. The arrow is hang to his wall and always will be there. He misses his little owl but the memory core with you always be there.

The mission was to a local neighborhood of Italy. The place went up to the sky like Ascent did because of the radianite. You and your team was there to collect info and save citizens who may still be up there.

When you were walking down the streets, you saw a little brown bear with a cute bow like hair clip on its ear laying on the ground. It probably belonged to a little girl that needed to leave her home and accidently dropped it.

You felt sad for the cute fella and to the girl. You picked it up in your hands and give it a little dust off. This was the perfect gift. And the little bear reminded you of someone...

The mission canceled as soon as the whole team heard the explosion coming from the other side of the street. Chyper came running while trying to put out the fire thats on his cape. At least he was able to gather some information.

The helicopter landed on top of the HQ. Everyone got out and went to their ways. But ofcourse, there was always someone who will greet you. This time, it was wingman.

The cute yellow creature said something that was unknown to you. You giggled at it and fist bumped its little hand.

"Im alright, little man. Dont need to worry." Wingman yippie'd to you in its way. Jumping a little while its hands on the air.

Then, you hear some running footsteps coming closer. When it turns the corner, you realize its Gekko.

"What happened?! Are you okay? I heard that there was an explosion!" You shook your hands as a no while laughing at his worry.

"No, no im fine." You said then looked at the little fella thats down on your feet, looking at you curiously. The sight of wingman reminded you of the little bear you found.

"Yeah! I have something to give you!" You went quickly inside of the helicopter and grab the bear. Taking the bow-clip from its ear.

You slowly aproached to him while hiding the bear behind you. He raised a brow while tilting his head. "And whats that?" The green haired man asked.

"Ta-daa!" You show him the bear thats inside your hands. His eyes widen at the sight. Slowly taking the plushie from your hands. "For me?" You nod your head. His smile widen, showing his teeth.

"Its so cute. Where did you found this?" He asked. "It reminded me of wingman so i just picked it up." You said.

Lowering yourself to the wingman, you placed the little bow on its ear. "And that is for you!" You said. The wingman cheered while trying to hug you. You laughed at its effort and picked it up from the ground. Hugging him while the little yellow hands hug your face.

Gekko laughed at both of you. "Wingman thanks you. And i do too." He says. His friends really act how he feels like around someone. And the way that they are always here to greet you whenever you came back from a mission makes your day. You feel special to him. And you really are. Its no hard to tell when his little emotions are all over the place but mostly around you.

He takes a good care of the bear. Its on the top shelf of his bookshelf. And when it comes to wingman, it wears the bow when theres an event when everyone gotta dress up. The bow is like its dress. Its something special to the yellow creature.

Its not me saying but the others wants gifts too now. They wanna be like wingman!

#valorant #headcanon #sova #sova valorant #valorant sova #sova headcannons #sova x reader #valorant x reader #gekko #gekko valorant #gekko x reader #valorant gekko

[grippingbeskar]

bad shoulder

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: adult content minors dni! (mxf, f receiving, nothing crazy) swearing, mentions of canon typical violence

a/n: this is dedicated to and requested by @lemon-world1​ who’s birthday it was a few days ago IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE but it is here! i hope you had an amazing day, and i really hope this is what you wanted!!!! sending so much love to you. its been a while since i just wrote a lil frank thing and damn i missed it okay bye.

     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You got a second?” Frank Castle’s familiar head pokes around the corner of your tent, traces of dried blood still caked in his short hair.

“Always for you.” You sing out, and he smiles, the sight sending warmth all the way through you. You turn to face him, and he isn’t shy about the way he looks you up and down, brown eyes trailing down your body before he remembers himself and focuses elsewhere. You always manage to get at least a little flustered when he comes in— especially when he’s all happy and smiling. He’s impossible not to want, and living on a base in the middle of a battlefield, there’s not a whole lot to do around here but sit and wait for him to show up.

It had been a long day, like it always was. You hadn’t even seen the sun rise before you were called in, soldiers that were never fully recovered still nursing old, aggravated injuries from whatever they’d been doing for the past 12 hours. From bad knees to wasted tendons and shattered bones, sometimes there wasn’t a lot you could do but make them as comfortable as possible and take away some of the pain, even if it was temporary.

Frank could come in and stand in the corner without saying a word and it’d make your day. It was stupid, but it was the truth. He just had that effect on you. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was, he just managed to surge adrenaline through you at the sight of him— you’d nearly forgotten your work the second he stepped in.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a few things to finish up and then I can help you out.” He nods and thanks you again, and you busy yourself with papers you don’t remember pulling out, trying your hardest to slow your racing heart down to an acceptable rate.

When you turn back to him, he’s already taken his shirt off, sitting with his legs over the side of the table. He’s so tall his boots still plant firmly on the ground, and you know it’s ridiculous— you know, but there’s something about the way he’s just so big—

“Your shoulder still bothering you?” Your brain manages to form words that make sense, while your heart rate is still flying uncomfortably close to a heart attack as he shrugs his shoulders. He rolls them out, each muscle defined and contracting with the movement, and your hands clench at your sides.

“Yeah. Gotta carry some of the packs for the medic on our squad, but it’s fucking killing me.” He rolls his neck next, but with the movement he winces. His eyes squeeze shut and his whole body shudders— the sight switching you from a fumbling mess to a professional in an instance. You know Frank— if he’s coming to you for help, he must be in some serious pain.

“Can’t someone else take the weight? I could write a report, let the sargent know?” You move behind him, the definition of each muscle practically shimmering under the full light of your tent. You peek over his shoulder, and he angles his head just so you can see the genuine surprise in his face.

“You can do that?”

“I’m not just here to hang out with you, you know. I do have a job here.” You laugh, and you can see his body slump a little as he joins you.

“I didn’t mean it like that— but nah. It’s okay. Coopers still got that bug leg, so I just gotta get this fixed.” Typical of Frank, but you’d probably write the report up anyways. It wouldn’t hurt, and Frank would never admit to anyone but you that the pain was genuinely bothering him.

You were the only person he seemed to let himself be vulnerable with, show any kind of weakness with. You’d seen him around base, and knowing what a pissing contest it is out there, it didn’t surprise you that when he found a moment of peace, it didn’t take a a lot for him to open up. You try to tell yourself it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about showing you up like he does everyone else around here, but you can’t help the part of your mind that wanders to the possibility that he might just like your company. Finds it easy to trust you and let his guard down.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay? Work the same place as last time?” Once you get confirmation, your hands drift over the familiar position, but as soon as you apply pressure he sucks in a sharp breath. “That hurts?”

“It’s fine.” He says through his teeth.

“You have to tell me if it hurts, Castle. Job, remember?” He laughs again, but you can tell he’s still pulling away from you. “It’s okay. We can work up to that. Tell me what happened today.”

“Same old. You know how it— oh, fuck.” He grunts when you dig your fingertips into a spot that you know is connected to his old injury. “How it is.”

“Lay down.” He moves slowly— too slow to be in any kind of working order. You try to take the pressure off his shoulder as he turns to lay face down, but he’s still holding himself up and favouring one side. When he’s finally flat, you start softly, kneading your hands in slow circles around the connecting muscles. You listen to the sounds he makes— low grunts of either pain or pleasure, but both of them send butterflies fluttering in your stomach like no one else.

You start to span your hands down his back, letting the palm of your hand apply more pressure the further away from his shoulder you get. He sighs deeply, and after a few minutes he’s gone pliant under your touch. His head rolls to one side when you drift your hands up to his neck, another low groan escaping from somewhere in his chest.

When he’s finally relaxed, you press further. You check in as your hands slide along the base of his shoulder blade, and you’re only met with a gruff keep goin’ before you return to your original spot. He sighs, shifting closer to your side of the table, and the warmth of his skin touching you in all kinds of places has you blinking rapidly, your vision starting to go fuzzy.

Keeping your mind on the task at hand, you manage to kill a few more minutes like this; gentle circles and soft touches before you decide he’s ready to move.

“You still with me?” You break the silence, and he just huffs like you’ve woken him up. He still moves slowly when he gets up, but there’s no pain there. No— he was just relaxed. Tired, probably, but relaxed. “It’s feeling better than last time. You’ve been doing those stretches I told you about?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands return to his shoulder and apply more pressure. He leans into the touch, head falling forward and sighing again. You ignore how much the response made your head swim.

“Everyday?”

“Yes, ma’am.” God— he was gonna kill you.

“And no more of those sandbag throws, yeah? Or those weighted pull ups?” When you don’t get an answer, you shake him with your hands. “Hey. Don’t fall asleep.”

“M’not. I’m ignoring the question.” You laugh, your hands stilling on his shoulder as you feel the muscle movement ease entirely. “I gotta keep my reputation up, or the new guys get cocky.”

“God forbid— because you are the picture of humble.”

“Damn right.” He leans back slightly, his back brushing against your chest. He doesn’t move when he feels how close you are, and though your hands aren’t on him anymore and the session is clearly over, you don’t move either. “Missed seein’ you.”

“You don’t have to rip your shoulder out of its socket to come see me, you know.” He’s facing straight forward, but every word you say has him shuffling further and further back into you.

“You sayin’ you wanna see me outside here?” He says softly, his head turning ever so slightly towards your own.

“Maybe.” You want to take the words back as soon as you’ve said then, but then he surprises you by turning suddenly, looking you right in the eye.

Your heart stops. Time stops, practically. You know you shouldn’t do this. You need to draw a line in the sand, tell him to move back. To look forward. To leave, even. You were at work, and he was just a… well. He wasn’t just another client— and that was the fucking problem.

He was so close to you, every short breath he took was loud in your ear. You didn’t have to bend to be face to face with him, not with how straight he’s sitting and how fucking close he is. You were at the perfect height to indulge all those fantasies you shouldn’t have, should never act on but God did you want to.

He turns even more, rotating so his chest facing you and his nose brushes against your own. You can’t help the way your eyes flutter closed in anticipation— it was too late to pull away. He was too tempting and he was right there. So close to you, no longer at arms length, and so when he brings one gentle hand to the side of your face, you don’t even think about pulling away.

Your heartbeat was in your ears, sounds of the outside floating away until all you could hear was the pounding of your anxious heart and Franks low, shuddering inhale. Your eyes dare to flutter open for just half a second, and you can see his own flitting over your face— searching for something. Rejection, anticipation, something that he was looking for, but he either finds it or he doesn’t, because whatever it was is enough to have him leaning just a slight inch forward and pressing his mouth to yours.

It’s so slow you nearly faint. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, and his other hand comes to your hip, drawing you in to press against his warm skin. His tongue glides along your bottom lip, and your mouth opens, wanting to drink him and this moment in as much as possible.

He tastes like dirt and blood, and it’s so fucking addicting that your tongue tangles with his for another taste. He kisses you softer than you imagined, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. You try to bend closer, your hands sliding up into his cropped hair and sealing his mouth to yours. The groan of approval you get is enough for him to lose a little bit of that control. He groans your name into your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. When he groans again your feet leave the ground, Frank hauling you up onto the small table in one swift movement, putting you on your knees next to him.

His mouth never leaves yours in the shuffle, hand tangled in your hair as he gets a little rougher— hungrier for a deeper kiss. The need makes your head spin, and his free hand hooks under your legs to pull you across him, your legs naturally falling to either side of his muscles thighs.

You moan instantly at the feeling, Frank pushing your hips down to connect with his own. Your arms hook lazily around his neck, his own roaming from your hips up and down your sides. He’s languid with the movements, content to take his time to feel your body, fingers slipping under your shirt where goosebumps follow in his wake wherever he touches you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans into you, and you shudder when his hips buck upwards. It’s almost like he’s encouraging it, wanting you to use him like this, hearing the way your breathless moans get higher and higher every-time he does it. “You like that?”

You can’t form a reply, just nodding as your head rolls to the side. His lips drop down, scorching heat under your jaw and down your neck. You can feel the cool kiss of his teeth as they drag lightly against your pulse point, and at the same time Frank grinds his hips up again. The sensation hits you like a truck, and you’re sighing out his name like a song in the next second.

“Oh, Frank.” You bury your head in the crook of his neck, and he hums in response and repeats the movement. He knows just where to roll your hips, the rough fabric of his pants creating the perfect friction, and a few more minutes like this and you’d be cu—

Three loud knocks on the door nearly make you scream in surprise and frustration.

“Hey, you in there? Any chance you got a couple minutes before rollcall? Need you to work your magic on this knee.” Fucking hell. You knew that voice, and it wasn’t one you could dismiss.

You were panting so hard you couldn’t reply right away, and Frank was just staring at you. His eyes were blown wide— not even blinking as he gripped the side of the table, knuckles white with restraint.

“Y-yep! Just a sec!” You scramble, trying to put yourself back together while Frank sits there, unmoving. You manage to get behind him, throwing Franks shirt at him just before the officer walks in and gets an eyeful of Franks painfully obvious boner. “Colonel Fields! I’m just finishing up with Castle, then I can help you out.”

“Sounds good.” The older man walks into the room, taking a seat in your office chair and nodding at Frank. “Lieutenant.”

You seem to have found your footing a little quicker than Frank, jabbing him in the back to prompt a fucking reply.

“C-Colonel. Ow.” He sucks in a breath as you dig your hands into his lower back pretending to do something productive, but then he sighs and drops his head when you ease up.

He’s as taut as ever, but you go easy on him considering what just happened. What… what did just happen? One second you were joking with him, laughing like friends, and the next you were kissing him. More than that— fuck, you probably would have let him have you right here on the table if he had kept going.

There’s another low, drawn out groan from Frank, and the sound has you pressing your thighs together. It’s the same one he breathed through your kiss when you were on top of him— and from the pained grunt that follows it, he’s remembering it too.

“You alright there, Lieutenant?” Colonel Fields calls to Frank, and you don’t know what his face looks like right now, but clearly it’s not hiding anything very well.

“Fine. Good. I’m gonna— I think I’m good.” He’s off the table in a second, slipping out from your practically outstretched arms.

“I’ll only be a second, if you need to—“ He was already shaking his head before you finished your sentence. Did he not want… Jesus, did he not want to finish what you started as badly as you do? He was walking straight for the door.

“All good. Thanks. I’m— good. I’m good.” He says, not looking you in the eye, and then he’s gone, leaving both you and Colonel Fields confused, and you a little cold.

     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you finally drag your body to your room, you feel like you’ve been hit by a freight train. You’ve had long days before, but this one is so much more draining. It’s like your heart has been wrung out and shoved back into your chest, and now you just have to walk around with this squished thing in your body that refuses to work properly.

Yes, you were dramatic. But you had a right to be! Frank had— well, he’d done all that, only to run out of the tent and disappear for the entire day. It’s not like you expected flowers and a proposal, but he was outright ignoring you.

Not so much as a text— no looks in the hallway, nothing. Even when he’d usually catch you for lunch, something that would have been ordinary and in his schedule, he wasn’t there. He could just be caught up with something, but your mind couldn’t help but wander to the possibility that you’d jumped the gun or read the room wrong.

You fell backwards onto your bed, the air rushing out of your lungs in a giant whoosh. You’d been harbouring feelings for Frank for so long, and you’d done so well at keeping them in check and at bay, no matter how many flirty smiles and sweet comments he made. But one moment of weakness— one look too long and too close was all it took for you to crack and have your entire heart and career shatter in one go.

Then you hear it— three soft but sure knocks on your door. When you swing it open, you don’t know if your surprised or expectant.

“Frank?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You gonna let me in?” You hesitate for just a moment, worried what he’s going to say. “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Please.”

You watch him shiver in front of you, and it’s only then you look down and see he’s just wearing boxers and the same shirt from this morning, as well as his combat boots, untied with no socks. You just step out of his way and hurry him inside, noting the snow piled up at your door and how late it must be considering the sun had long disappeared.

“Fucking hell. Its fuckin’ cold.” He says through gritted teeth, and you still haven’t said a word, but hand him a towel so he can dry off the fallen snow resting in his short hair. “Thanks.”

“Why aren’t you wearing more clothes?” The question slips out. Not that you were…complaining. But it was snowing outside.

“Yeah… kinda got caught in the barracks. Didn’t wanna waste time and walk all the way… are you alright?”

“You’re freezing— here.” You hand him one of his old jackets he’d given you months ago, and he takes it quickly, shrugging it over his shoulders. “You dissipated kind of fast. I just… sorry. This is weird. I don’t know what to say?”

“You don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to. I’ll…” He steps forward, a hand hooking under your chin to force your eyes up to him, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Wanted you to talk to me today.” You mumble and he grunts, shaking his head. “You were avoiding me. I thought you—“

“No, baby. No. Fuckin’ Fields has been on me since I deployed. He’d take any chance to send me home, and anyone I gave a shit about, too.” His hand hasn’t left you, though the other one stays pinned to his side.

“Oh. You— no, that makes total sense. You should definitely of— Of course! Yeah.” You make a complete dick of yourself trying to find a sentence that doesn’t make you sound insecure, and he steps into you, his body like a warm blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinkin’ about you all damn day.” His breath his hot against your skin, and he presses a kiss under your ear before he continues. “Were you thinkin’ about me?”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes are closed, but you can feel him. Feel his proximity— how his other hand leaves his side and rests on your hip, tugging you into him. There isn’t an inch of him you can’t feel, and the hard lines of his toned stomach tighten as he bends down further.

“You wanna pick up where we left off, sweetheart? Let me show you what I been meaning to do to you since I fuckin’ met you?” Your jaw falls open and you nod again. He takes his chance, groaning your name once more before devouring you into a searing kiss.

He’s unbelievably big, dwarfing your size under neath him as he moves his hands lower and starts to tug at your sweatpants. You shuffle as best you can to help him, but you’re too occupied with the way he’s kissing you to do anything but squirm against him. He’s kissing you like he’s hungry for it, like there’s something desperate and sweet inside of you he’s never had before. It makes your head spin to think he might want this just as bad as you do.

He walks backwards, falling with a grunt onto your bed, tugging you on top of him. It’s the same as this morning, expect now there’s even less between you. Just the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers seperate you from each other, but he’s no less intense with the way he moves you in slow circles while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He mutters and pulls himself away, mumbling as he rips your shirt over your head. He kisses you everywhere he can reach— craning his head to press his mouth to your collarbones, down your chest, feeling his hands run up to touch you where his mouth can’t.

He flips you over, your back hitting the soft covers of your bed and crawls over you. His arms cage you in, mouth repeating the motions and tasting your skin further down. He’s so slow about it— hardly even doing this for you. His mouth is as warm as his skin, trailing his way down until his short hair tickles the skin of your inner thighs. You can’t take your eyes off him, how easy he fits himself between your legs, shoulders spreading you open.

He breathes out, setting himself down between your legs, toying with the soft fabric of your underwear. His fingertips are rough, but his touch gentle, tracing the lines of your hips and sending zaps of pleasure up your body.

“So pretty, baby.” The words hit your skin, and you squirm under his hands when they hook under your underwear. He drags them down quickly, your hands toying with the short strands of his hair. Franks eyes meet yours, and you swear he gives you a cocky little smile before he sinks lower and your eyes squeeze shut.

His mouth is on you in the next second, burying himself between you. You feel the warm touch of his mouth swirl around you, arms hooking around your lower half and holding you down. You don’t want to move, don’t want to interrupt the intensity of his touch but you can’t help it— it’s all too much and you want to dive into it. Everything hot and sparkling sizzles up your spine, and you arch off the bed in such surprise when you feel his mouth seal over your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut harder, a near painful grip on his hair yanking him both into you and away. He’s too strong, too overpowering to even notice your efforts, and you thank God he doesn’t fucking stop. You were whining pathetically now— his name echoing in high pitched in the small room. You feel him smile, your jaw going slack just thinking about what he looks like.

“Keep sayin’ my name— fuckin’ sounds good when you say it.” He leans back only slightly, and you gasp when you feel him lean his head against your thigh. The feeling of him— his mouth fucking wet with the taste of you, feeling the soft puff of his breath against your skin as he catches himself. Then he wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you down the bed. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Keep going, fuck—“ You whimper, trying to smooth your hands through his hair in an attempt to be nicer. He grins lazily, and then stares right into your eyes as he spits into your pussy and buried his face into you again.

Everything burns red hot, and your legs clamp around his head as he speeds up. One arm is enough to hold you down, the other snaking up our side and interlocking with your hand. You can’t keep your eyes open— everything going blurry as your eyes roll back and you feel yourself spinning in all directions.

You must say something— his name, maybe, because he groans and flattens his tongue, letting you grind your hips up and into him. If you could manage to open your eyes you’d stare back at him— let him watch as you fall apart in a way only he can break you.

Frank keeps a pace— fucking you with his tongue and swirling around the bud of nerves in such a messy but fiery way that you can’t hold it. Everything gets white hot and your back arches again, fingertips digging into his scalp and hand, and you know it’s cliche but you swear you can see stars.

Frank doesn’t stop, just slows down and works you through the shocks of pleasure that jolt up your core, feeling the way you shudder as you cum in his mouth. When your squirming too much for him to hold you still, he drags his mouth up your body. Again, he kisses his way up, but this time it’s messy. He’s not just kissing— he drags teeth and tongue along your hip bones, marking his way up to your chest and neck. You’ll be covered in the evidence, and you only lean closer, wanting more.

“Fucking hell, Frank.” His hands slide up your sides while yours palm him through his boxers, and he shudders your name. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Do you, pretty girl?” He groans in your ear, and your stomach flips at the name. You bite your lip and nod, staring up at him and he grins. “You liked that, huh?”

“I know something I’d like more.” Blinking innocently, you slip your hand under his boxers and wrap your hand around his hard length. He cuts himself off with a choked gasp, leaning back down and kissing you messily.

You let him take what he wants, pressing his hips into the slow, teasing movement of your hand as you slowly slide his boxers off. The feeling of his skin on yours lights something on fire inside you, and while he’s nearly drunk on the taste of your mouth, you shove him easily onto his back. You’re quick about it, not giving him a second to breathe when you’re sinking down on his cock, earning another long, low groan.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” He gasps out, hands gripping your hips tightly. You roll forward slightly, feeling him hit something that makes you shiver, and he helps you chase the feeling. He moves you with no effort, bucking his hips and grinding you in out of rhythm thrusts, his eyes screwed tightly shut like he was in pain. “Oh god, baby don’t stop.”

“Feels good, Frankie.” His jaw goes slack with another stuttered moan of your name, while his hands touch you wherever they can reach. He glides up your stomach, over your ribs, your breasts, until he reaches your face where he hauls you downwards into another bruising kiss.

“Fucking… so perfect. Thought about this… fuck, that’s it. God that’s fuckin’ it.” He slurs between kisses, and he moves faster, rougher as he fucks you dizzy. It’s numbing and electrifying all at once, the grip of his hands on your face forcing you to stare into his half lidded eyes. “Such a pretty girl. Just keep lookin’ at me. Just like that.”

His free hand wraps around your lower back, his name coming out high pitched and drawn out as you call it over and over again. He kisses you, words mumbled into your mouth but the pleasure is too overwhelming— you couldn’t hear anything but the snap of his hips against yours and both of you chasing your high.

He bites your lower lip, drawing you back to him when he feels you tighten around him. He knows you well— he’d know you’re close, and his eyes burn so brightly in front of you that even though he’s got that cocky smirk on his face you still want to tell him how fucking good he is at this. He presses his forehead to yours, holding you against him as he brings you to the edge with a few more strewing, devastating thrusts and you’re gone— screaming his name so loud you know your neighbours will hear.

“Fr-Frank!” Your body shakes as pleasure overwhelms you, and he watches every fucking second of it. He’s right there with you, the look on your face when you cum for him sending him toppling over with you. He’s so warm and he’s everywhere— arms wrapping around you, mouth sealed to yours swallowing every little whimper and moan, cock buried so deep inside you, you know you’re gonna feel him for days.

The room is suddenly quiet, except for yours and Franks in sync breathing. You tuck your face into his neck and he buries you there, strong arms wrapping around your torso and keeping you as close as possible. When you feel his heart beat start to slow, you look up at him to find he’s already staring at you.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He confesses, kissing you again. It’s lazy, indulgent and somehow he still tastes so good. It’s addicting, and you find yourself chasing his mouth until you’re breathless again. When he pulls away, he’s panting, shaking his head. “You keep kissing me like that and you’re in for a long fucking night.”

“Just one night?” You want to look away in case it’s not the answer you want, but he laughs, moving you to the side and tucking you to his chest.

“Fuck no.” He groans as he finally slips out of you. You sigh, content for now, and wriggle back towards him, pressing your ass against his hips. He freezes and his breathing changes, sounding very, very controlled. “Baby. Please don’t mess with me right now.”

“Oh, poor Frank. Stuck in bed with a girl. A naked girl. How’s he gonna make it?” Before you can be proud of yourself for the short silence you are awarded, he’s flipping you over and kissing his way down your chest and stomach. When he disappears between your thighs, you cry out his name, and fuck— you don’t think you’d ever get enough of this.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

[viennacherries]

First of all I love your work!! I keep rereading kiss the cook. I have a request God! Gale/Tav. A spicy fic about Tav and God Gale’s first time since he’s turned into a god.

anon. anon im so sorry. this turned into angst. please forgive me <3

NSFW

read it on ao3

~~~

Tav hasn't seen Gale since he left in search of the crown, promising to find her and bring her with him to Elysium. She'd believed him, but she thought he'd have come to her by now.

It's been 6 months. She's starting to lose faith.

She isn't completely convinced that he's going to come to the party. Withers insists he sent Gale an invite, but she's trying not to hold her breath. 'Trying' being the key-word here.

The truth is, she's desperate to see him again. She aches for him. He completes a part of her that she didn't even know was missing. He's soft and gentle with her in a way no one ever has been before, he's all light touches and tender caresses. He smells like old books and cinnamon, and he brings her more comfort than anything else could. She'll do anything for him. She just wants him back.

Withers is encouraging everyone to raise their glasses, finishing his toast, and her heart sinks at the realisation that Gale won't be turning up.

She wishes he would turn up.

Shadowheart is midway through saying something to her, clearly trying to take her mind off of him despite it being a fruitless cause, when a blinding beam of light flashes down from the sky.

It's like a bolt of lighting, the speed at which it descends, and there's a long pause where the light persists as if frozen in time, before it slowly fades away. Gale stands in its place and she runs to him, ecstatic, before her footfalls slow as she takes him in.

He did it. He found the crown. He became a God.

He looks so different. His whole body shimmers chrome, catching the light like an errant jewel in a necklace. His hair, once soft and flowing, seems sculpted to his head and body like a statue, every hint of his natural colour replaced with the same otherworldly silver as the rest of him. His eyes are glowing pits, no longer the soft warm brown she so loved looking into. They seem to create their own light, which wisps and curls around his eyebrows like ink through water. He looks glorious.

He looks new.

He spots her, smiles, and crosses the remaining distance. He stops a foot away.

"I had hoped I'd see you here." He says, and his voice. It's so different now. It echoes and reverberates as though he's stood in a vast cave, it screams of power and strength. It's his voice, still, but it doesn't sound like him anymore. There's something missing from behind his words that makes them feel slightly empty.

"I..." She feels shellshocked, "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Forget you? Never." His words make her heart sing, but his tone is all wrong. She knows he means it, but it just sounds so... lifeless.

He keeps talking, "I'm afraid time works quite differently in Elysium. I didn't realise how long I'd been gone, until I received Withers' summon."

All the time she spent, the months dragging on, missing and longing for him, had felt like mere moments to him. It makes her feel a little bitter, but she pushes the feeling down.

He's still talking. Something about 'the finer points of divine ascension' and how 'mortal comprehension' isn't enough to fully understand. He found the crown, he reforged it, he took control of it. The Karsite Weave has become the Galarian Weave. He commands it.

Tav swallows around the lump in her throat, "well, I'm ready to come with you."

His face twists into some sort of amusement, as if he finds her eagerness endearing. When he speaks, his tone is that of a teasing reprimand. "I see you won't be claiming the dominion of 'patience' in the heavens. All in good time, my love. For now, mortality has one more night of enjoyment in store..."

He takes her hand in his, and her skin tingles where they make contact, as though molten electricity courses through his veins. He leads her away from the party, and she hears the woops and catcalls of the rest of her friends as they fade away from view.

When he presses his lips to hers, it feels like static shock. When he runs his hands down her arms, it feels like the air right before lighting strikes. When he slowly undresses her, ready to worship her body as if she's the immortal being, not him, her skull tingles and her eyes water. It's so intense. He's barely even touched her and it's so, so intense.

He strips her slowly. Reverently. He has nothing but time. He has no need to rush, no need to worry. Everything is so different now. There's no hiding in tents trying to be private, there's no sneaking off in the night and tucking themselves back into their clothes before they get caught, there's no stolen kisses when everyone's looking away. He has eternity. They have eternity.

When she's laid on the ground, stripped bare for him, he lifts her legs over his shoulders and descends on her core with his mouth. He moves his lips like he's sending a prayer through her body, like she's the conduit to his devotion. His tongue ghosts over her nerves and she feels like a lighting rod the way his energy travels through her, as though seeking to ground itself through her fingertips as she digs them into the dirt.

And when he lays his body across hers, enters her with one smooth thrust, it's blinding pleasure. Every stroke he takes has lights blinking behind her eyes, every thrust like a jolt of power travelling up to her throat. When she finds her release it crackles through her like an exposed wire touching water, and when his follows shortly after her vision goes white with ecstasy at the feeling, as though his very essence is spreading through her marrow.

They lay together for a while, staring at the stars. He tells her of Elysium, of the endless ocean of constellations and the rivers of pure light. He speaks about his domain, how the Crown of Karus is kept safe at the centre of it, how he protects it with his immense newfound power. He waxes poetic about the shrines that have already been erected in his honour; several in Thay, and a grand temple under construction in Amn.

It dawns on her, all at once, that he hasn't asked how she's been.

She feels a pit open up in her stomach.

He tells her about the fathomless power at his disposal. He tells her about dragging the crown from the Chinonthar. He tells her about his disagreement with Mystra, when she learnt of his ascension, and his plans to challenge her further in time.

He doesn't ask about his mother. He doesn't ask about Tara. He doesn't ask about her.

It feels like she's ripping in half.

All too soon they're standing at the edge of the river.

"So, it's time for me to return to the heavens. The question is - do you wish to join me? To become a God at my side?"

Her stomach lurches.

She wants to. She wants to remain at his side, for all of eternity. She wants to go with him and build a home with him in the sky, a domain of magic of their own creation.

But she also wanted to create a home with him in Waterdeep. She wanted nights together curled up next to the fireplace, while he played piano with his magic and read arcane books to her. She wanted to sit on his balcony with him, watching the water, holding his hand in the evening breeze. She wanted the date night he promised, with his homemade hundur sauce. She wanted to meet his mother, have tea with her, call her 'mother-in-law'. She wanted to marry him.

And as she stands with him, as he is now, she takes him in. His eyes are luminous trenches, no longer a warm chocolate brown. His skin, once tanned and soft, is cold and silver. He doesn't smell of old books, or cinnamon; he smells like petrichor - like earth soaked in thunder and rain.

She stands with him, hand in hand. But he doesn't feel like home anymore. It feels like he's a million miles away. Like he's already gone back to the heavens.

"I can't"

When he leaves, she wishes she went with him. Then she wishes he'd stayed. Then she wishes he'd never found the crown.

She wishes he'd chosen her.

She sits, knees clutched to her chest, and she sobs.

A small ball of fur and feathers curls into her side. A tressym.

They mourn together.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 requests #bg3 tav #bg3 gale #galemance #gale bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #baldur's gate gale #god gale

[silverstonesainz-archive]

when you're missing me...

10 songs, from you to him.

summary: charles goes track by track as he deals with the sadness of losing you. pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (affectionately nicknamed dove) word count: 14k (i'm so sorry) warnings: not proofread, poorly translated french -- translation in small font next to french text, cussing, charles being whiney and kind of pathetic sorry, mentions of alcohol, alludes to sexual themes, descriptions of anxiety and poor mental health. probably inaccurate descriptions of the car and its functions. absolutely no interaction between charles and reader until around the 5th/6th song so fair warning. note: here is my first ever f1 fic and of course, it had to be about charles. i have been working on this for about a month now and i am finally done. this is super long, i nearly split it but it didn't feel right. im also a 1000% sure this makes no sense but im posting it anyways. i hope you like it and if not thats okay too! tagging @stressfc and @sidcrosbyspuck bc they've listened to me try to muscle through the end of this. feedback is always appreciated.

Dinner was quiet, just the soft hum of classical instrumental playing in the background with the compliments of silverware clanging against porcelain plates. Charles stares at the pasta sitting idly on his plate, his fork twirling the noodles but never lifting it to his mouth. The girl across from him seems to dwindle on and on about her work, something about a new projects and exciting opportunities. He couldn’t seem to listen tonight, there was something eerie in the air tonight and it made him feel uneasy.  She doesn’t take notice though, too busy enjoying his presence and the fine dining restaurant Charles is treating her to. 

She wasn’t a gold digger by any means, and she was satisfied with the more simpler things life had to offer. It was one of Charles’ favorite things about her, and that’s why when he had the chance he’d treat her to a little bit of luxury that he can afford. She was sweet, bubbly, with a little bite when it comes to things she’s passionate about. Her eyes were warm and bright with life, and on most nights it was enough to set fire in his heart. But tonight, it simply wasn’t the case. 

Dinner was over as quickly as it started, Charles chucking the quick end to the night to being tired and having a long day ahead of him. She was understanding as usual, and it dug a pit in his heart. She bid him goodnight, a quick kiss to his lips, and he watches as she walks away. Charles waited until she was in her building before he driving back to his apartment, the car ride silent. He slows to a stop at a red and idly scrolls through his Spotify account to find a playlist to fill the space. And then he scrolls past one he hadn’t listened to in months. He taps the one titled ‘when you’re missing me’ quick to press shuffle as the light flicks green. His foot is steady on the gas, as the first out of ten songs play. 

Nothing - Bruno Major

Bruno’s soft voice plays over the car speaker, the first verse taking him back to nights spent on the couch with a glass of red wine, a good movie, and his favorite person. He remembers the soft voices, chaste kisses, and gentle fingers tousling his brown hair. He hums along, merging right and off the busy roads to take the side streets. Taking the long way home seemed like the best option for tonight, the twists and turns reminding him of being on the track— his safest place in the world. 

But there’s nothing, like doing nothing, with you. The lyric makes his heart plummet into his stomach before trying to climb up his throat. There’s a sense of nostalgia that washes over him as the song plays on, remembering the feeling of listening to it as he passes the time miles and miles away from you. He smiles at your thoughtfulness, how you carefully picked ten simple songs to fill the time you both spent apart. Ten songs, nearly forty minutes to keep him afloat for maybe days at a time. Forty minutes to make missing you a little less painful.

Or in this case, a little more. 

The first time he heard this song, it was played live in concert and you found a video circulating online of the performance. You gushed on and on about how cute the lyrics were, the sentiment behind the song, and the evident tears glossing over your eyes when you listened to it the first time. You were both just friends at the time, and he could remember the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as you pined for affections that the artist described in his song, his thought taking him to possibilities of him being able to fulfill those needs. But of course, he simply wiped the lone tear that rolled down your cheek and smiled.

“It’s okay, mon cherie.” 

The first time he ever kissed you was to the very same song, a month later. He was just a little tipsy off of his celebratory P1 champagne, footsteps stumbling from the motorhome into your car as you readied to drive him home. He was all smiles, dimples deep and eyes bright despite being slightly hooded with alcohol. 

“Ah, mon amour, it was the best race I think I’ve ever driven. Did you see?”

“I did. I saw the whole thing bug.” 

Charles smiles at the memory of the affectionate nickname, rubbing his index finger against his bottom lip as he remembers the excitement he felt bursting through his skin when he had leaned over the middle counsel to kiss you. He remember your soft, plump lips, surprised but quick to mold into his. It was short, fiery, blurring the lines of friendship the two of you desperately tried to define. The song came up on shuffle, following one Charles’ hazy mind at the time could not seem to place. 

… nothing like doing nothing with you…

Together — Us the Duo

Charles didn’t like too many English songs, and when he did they were ones that play on the radio every thirty minutes. This song, he found deep in her liked songs. One Saturday morning, free from distractions, no responsibilities on either end of the relationship except to be in each other’s company. He likes to think you put this song in the playlist because of the day he found it and played it.

He can hear you singing softly, feel the ghost of your fingers caressing his cheek as the song goes no matter what you’re going through, I’ll be right next to you. Goosebumps rise on his skin at the memory of your touch and the lump in his throat grows larger. This is when he should change the song, change the playlist, switch over to some house music playlist Lando shared with him months ago that he has yet to listen to. But he couldn’t. He eases up on the gas, making another right turn to drive down another straight. 

“You are doing just fine, just take it one turn at a time baby.” 

Charles hung on to every word that you ever said, but these words especially. It was words that he held near to him, at the forefront of his mind whether he was on the track staring down the rear of a Red Bull, or just simply trying to get through a tough mental day. One turn at a time, your version of “just keep swimming.” It was a take from an old movie, and one of your favorite books, but personal to the both of you. 

This song was long forgotten in the last three months. He wishes that he remembered it for all the terrible days he spent up in his own head, without you to bring him down. Maybe, for just 3 minutes and 36 seconds, he could pretend that you were singing it to him. He could hear your sweet voice singing ‘if you ever need a hand to hold, reach out and I’ll grab yours.’ 

The skin of his right hand burned at the memory of yours, and his heart nearly sunk into his stomach. He hated this. He hated being alone, hated that you aren’t in the seat next to him. But most of all, he hated that seeing you was not an option at the end of this playlist.

Hesitate — Jonas Brothers 

The first concert you both ever attended together was a Jonas Brothers concert in Las Vegas. It wasn’t intentional, you fully planned on bringing your best friend with you but her flight was delayed. And although it was between back to back race weekends, Charles didn’t have many obligations before the next one and you were fairly great at convincing him to join you. Of course he knew who the Jonas Brothers are, and of course he knew at least two of their songs. But if he were being completely honest with himself and the universe listening, he only went because you asked him. 

On any normal weekend before back to back races, Charles would be scribbling in his little blue notebook and reading through his self-critical notes from the last several months of the season. He would jot down his ideas and feelings about the previous race, and his hopes and ambitions for the one yet to come. And it was Las Vegas. Notorious for the gambling and glamorous night life. A glamour he could afford for the both of you. And yet, that Thursday night he found himself in the furthest section to the left, the three brothers only about three inches tall from his view, with you screaming every lyric back with such enthusiasm. He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world. 

The night slowed down considerably, Joe’s (your favorite, at least that’s what you yelled to him about fifty times leading up to this very moment) voice booming over the speaker and filling the arena. Your hand was quick to find his own, fingers slotting between his own as you laid your head on his shoulder. You would never know, but he spent the entirety of the song looking down at you. He savored every second your lips moved to the song, the twinkle in your eyes as you stared down at the three piece.

I thank the ocean for giving me you, you saved me once and now I’ll save you too. Charles always thanked the sea and the waves for washing him to shore, right at your mercy. He’d never tell you, but the song brought tears to his eyes. He would never, ever, admit that he shed a tear listening to that very song and the thought of you. It seemed premature to admit to you just several months in that he might be falling in love with you. That maybe, just maybe, you were it for him. 

He pressed a soft kiss on your head, “Je suis en train de tomber amoureux de toi. Et vous ne le savez même pas. Pas encore.” I’m falling in love with you. And you don’t even know it. Not yet.

His whisper was drowned out in a sea of screams as the song comes to a close, and he knows you didn’t hear him. His heart screams at the memory of your glossy eyes as you looked up at him and moved up to the tip of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Sometimes he wishes that he would’ve just said it to you, screamed it for all of fifteen-something thousand people to hear and witness. Fuck the idea, the social constructs of timing and whether it was appropriate. He shouldn’t have hesitated to tell you how much his heart swells when you’re near him, how he desires nothing more to keep you close to him for the rest of his days. 

Maybe if he opened his god damn mouth then he couldn’t lived in your affections for longer than he got. 

Charles couldn’t bear to waste gas much longer, so he made a final left turn and back to his apartment complex. He pulls his car into the numbered slot, and takes quick steps to his empty home. Charles tries to ignore the dull feeling of his home, the mess he had yet to clean since returning from the last race, and instead dives into replying to texts he had missed since he decided to take an extra twenty minutes to get home. 

Pierre’s name lights up the screen as Charles rolls into bed. 

I can come up with beer if you need it. I saw you drive in a circle before getting home. Maybe you need beer. 

Charles curses softly, forgetting that his best friend has his location and is more often than not keeping tabs on his habits. He rolls his eyes, replying to Pierre that he can in fact make his way up as long as he has a six pack in hand. The Monegasque does his best to tidy up, tossing laundry in its place and putting dishes in the dish washer. By the time Pierre’s soft knocks are heard, Charles is just about satisfied with the way his home looks. He unlocks the door without opening it, but the Frenchman has no problem letting himself in, greeting his friend cheerfully as he shuts the door behind him.

“I was thinking of inviting Carlos, or maybe Max over with me too. But I figured my company was enough, no?”

Charles lets out a chuckle, sitting at the table and nodding for Pierre to do the same. “Sure, mate.” 

Pierre grins, handing Charles a bottle before sitting across from him. “Knew it.” He pops the bottle open, taking a quick drink before looking at his best friend. “So what now? Why the extra twenty minutes out on the road?”

“You know, it’s really creepy that you keep tabs on my location like that.” 

“I just care. And stop deflecting. What’s wrong?”

Charles nibbles his lip, spinning the amber bottle on the table to watch the liquid slosh against the light. He debated if he should bring up his thoughts of you for the n-th time. Pierre must be tired of it, Charles thinks to himself. He looks up, his friend’s baby blues waiting patiently for him to speak up. He sighs softly, popping open his bottle and holding it up to his lips. 

“Things don’t feel right with Hannah.” That’s how Charles chooses to start the conversation. It isn’t a lie, but it also isn’t the reason for his extra 20 minutes. 

“The American girl?” Pierre asks, leaning back into his chair.

Charles nods, “Yeah. I dunno man… I like her I do but”—

“But she’s not your Dove.”

There it is. Charles didn’t have to say it. His heart seems to crack at the use of your. You weren’t his, no longer his little Dove.

Pierre watches as his best friend nods, finally taking a drink from his beer. There is a blanket of comfortable silence that falls between the two racers. This isn’t unfamiliar territory for Pierre. He is very much aware of the torment in Charles’ head since the break up. He was there for all the drunk nights and silent tears. Pierre has never seen his best friend so torn up over a girl, and truth be told he was worried when Charles jumped into a new connection with the American girl. 

“I don’t know anymore mate… this fucking sucks.” Charles rests his head in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. “This isn’t normal, to constantly compare her to… to you know. That isn’t fair to Hannah, or really anyone for that matter.”

“No… but it takes time to move past that.” Pierre responds. “It still hurts now, it hasn’t been that long since the two of you parted ways.” 

“Three months mate.”

“Yeah, out of a fourteen month relationship.” 

Charles shakes his head, taking another drink. “Still seems too long.” 

“Well… do you really want to stop feeling this way?”

Charles looks at his best friend incredulously, “What the fuck kind of question is that?!”

“Well Charles, you seem to be the only one holding onto this relationship between the two of you. You just have this… this grip on something that’s over even though it’ll probably never come back to you.” 

Pierre’s nonchalant tone catches him off guard, and even more so that the man in front of him still manages to drink his beer without cowering under his angry gaze. The Frenchman’s word feels like a match is lit in his chest. Charles suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Switching up your opinions?” 

Pierre raises his brow. “What? No. I still think it’s normal to be strung up on a relationship three months out. But at the same time, Charles you don’t make an actual effort to move forward. I mean even Hannah isn’t much of a move in the right direction considering that they even look similar. Being in a relationship just to be in one, right after one you actually valued isn’t actually a great tactic to moving on. And you’re still listening to her playlist” 

“How do you know that?”

“Okay I didn’t check on purpose, don’t look at me like that. I just happened to be making a new race playlist and saw your activity.” 

Charles groans softly, cheeks turning pink. He was a little embarrassed and made a mental note to change his Spotify settings. “Fuck.”

“Listen, I’m not going to knock you for how you choose to heal and move on. I’m your best friend, and I’m here for you. But I’m just saying… your way isn’t a very good way.” 

—

Race weekends are his favorite. There isn’t anywhere he would rather be than on a race track in any given city in the world. The smell of rubber against the hot asphalt was always something that made him feel most at home. If there was something Charles knew for sure in the world, it’s that he was meant to be behind the wheel of an F1 car racing speeds up to 200 miles per hour. The adrenaline pumps through him simply at the thought of it.

Silverstone is a track he’s fairly comfortable with and has yet to win. But for the first time, Charles didn’t crave to win. Of course, standing on the tallest podium would be a plus, but truth be told he just wanted to get behind the wheel. The two week break was more than enough, much more than he needed. He just couldn’t wait to just sit in the car, uninterrupted for two hours with nothing but the road in front of him and his team in his ears. Charles was more than ready to hop in the car right now, if it weren’t for media appearances and fan obligations. 

Carlos isn’t blind, and he knows his teammate quite well. When the camera shuts off after their hour of filming another C-squared episode, Carlos can’t help but to point out the unusual jitters emitting from Charles. “You good?”

Charles looks up at his teammate. “Huh? Yeah, why?”

“You just seem ready to leave, more than usual.” 

“Just ready to get in the car, mate.” Charles hopes his voice is convincing. Hopes that the fake excitement he placed in his eye is enough to stop Carlos’s inquiries. He was worried that the Spaniard would ask about you, and truly Charles can’t handle another conversation about you and how he’s handling life without you. 

“Aren’t you always?” Carlos rolls his eyes playfully, patting Charles’ back. “See you later. Gonna go workout.”

The two split ways and Charles heads back to his hotel room. The rest of Charles’ day is scheduled to be fairly quiet. There were no other social obligations left for the day, just an hour of uninterrupted rest before an event with sponsors that his PR team emphasized the importance of only ten times in one meeting. But for the next hour, Charles retreats to his room with his little blue notebook and sits at the tiny desk. He begins to jot down notes from the track walk, taking notes of turns that might be of concern to him, and what kind of tires he is likely to start with. He flips between his strategy notes and his idea list, seeing if there are tweaks he can make that he can bring up for discussion before free practice the next day. 

Charles writes until his hand begins to ache. All of twenty minutes fly by before he has to drop the pen between the pages to try and shake the pain away. In the same instance, his phone lights up with texts from his friends who were trying to meet him before their schedules get too busy. He swipes through a few, not bothering to reply and instead opting to lay in bed to relax a little bit. He pops in his AirPods without question, scrolling through his song library in search of a song he could fall asleep to. His bottom lip moves between his teeth as he ponders over your playlist, and finds his finger swiping through his library til he spots that playlist. 

Charles triple checks that he changed his listening activity to private before playing the next song.

If I Could Fly — One Direction

This is by far the cheesiest song that you put on the playlist. But those were your words, not his. He remembers you told him how you even hesitated to add it in but ultimately decided that it was the only song that made sense to you and your reasoning. 

Charles thinks back to Silverstone a year ago. He was in a room much similar to the one he is sat in, but you were there. Granted, you were on a screen on his little iPhone but you were there. It was rather frustrating to be a driver for a struggling team like Ferrari was at the time.  He had you propped up against the lamp, the warm light illuminating his dull features. You watched him attentively, laying on your hands as you wait for him to speak up. You both knew that the race didn’t go as he had hoped, and there weren’t many things that you could say to him that he hasn’t heard from everyone that day. So you sit in silence, waiting for him to say just about anything so that you could pick up on him. 

“Just not the result I wanted.” Charles finally mumbled. He hears you hum, sitting up and pulling your phone closer to your face about to begin your “boost morale” speech, but he cuts you off. “Wish you were here, Dove.” 

You smile, a tinge of sadness in your eyes. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. You know if I could, I would.” 

He nods. “I know. I don’t want to talk about today anymore. I want to talk about your day, I want to talk about you.”

So you indulged. You told him about your day, of all the people you had come across at your job and how you looked forward to your next day off. He hung on to every single word that slipped past your lips. He let you ramble on and on, all the way til he made it to bed and snuggled with you, still on the phone in the same state. 

“Are you feeling better, Bub?” You asked, yawning softly as you snuggled deeper into the covers.

“Yes. Much better. And I see you in two days, so I’ll be even better then.” He smiled, and you smile even wider.

He could never forget your smile, even if he tried to scrub it out physically. He groans softly, turning on his back and letting the voices soak into the back of his mind, drowning every memory of you. 

Right now I’m completely defenseless. Tears spring up and sting his soft green eyes as the song continues to play. He hasn’t cried in a while, at least not while thinking of you. He’s cried in anger, in frustration, but never in sadness and loneliness like he feels right now. He didn’t think a One Direction song would bring him to tears, but yet here he is curled up on the white duvet as tears roll down his pale skin. Fuck he hates this so much. And fuck did he feel pathetic.

“Baise-moi.” Fuck me. He sits up, rubbing the heel of his hand against his cheeks to wipe the wet away.

He sniffles, swiping through his phone to reply to a few texts that sprung up on his phone. He replies to Pierre, the nosy fucker, and Carlos who lets him know that they will meet in the lobby before leaving to the event. Charles makes a silly mistake to scroll even further, past the blue dots of unread texts all the way down to your name. Well, your affectionate nickname. It’s one coined by Daniel ironically, and the only one that followed you around the paddock. Even Mattia referred to you as dove. Your dove, as Mattia would say to Charles. 

The last text you ever sent to him was I’m sorry. He didn’t have the guts to reply, to say that it was okay because truly, he was not. He scrolls up, past all the pining in blue and curt responses in grey. He scrolls past the hearts and the smiling emojis all the way until he finds the long paragraph with your explanation for the song.

There isn’t a day when you’re off in some country while I’m stuck at home, wishing that I could just fly over to you. And I didn’t want to add a One Direction song, it almost feels silly. But it makes sense. And I hope you feel the same way otherwise I’m just some psycho on the other side of this. I know these last couple of races haven’t been what you wanted them to be, and I know that you are frustrated more than anything else. But please know that me and thousands still believe in you. If I could fly all those thousands of miles to see you, then I would. But I will see you in two days time. Then I will make up for all the shit times. See you soon bub, very very soon. Bonne nuit, fais de beaux rêves chérie. Good night, sweet dreams honey

Charles nibbles on his bottom lip, finally pressing skip on the repetitive chorus. He couldn’t take it anymore

At My Worst — Pink Sweat$ (ft. Kehlani)

Charles forces himself off the bed and into the bathroom. His hair is disheveled, the skin around his eyes purple and puffy. He truly has never looked worse. He does his regular skin care, and then attempts to get ahold of his messy hair with some pomade Pierre swears by. It doesn’t work. 

As Charles slips on the black blazer over his shoulders, he nearly wants to throw up. He’d do anything to get out of this dinner, pay anything to just sit in solitude. But alas, his phone vibrates and Carlos is already waiting in the lobby for him. Charles pops his AirPods in, clicking play on the next song on the playlist. It’s more upbeat than the last couple of songs, and if it weren’t for the mere fact it was on a playlist you made for him, he would be bopping along. 

“Finally mate,” Carlos greets, standing from the lounge chair he was sitting in. “C’mon, I’ll drive.” 

Charles smiles at the few fans who were waiting, leaning into some photos and politely turning away autographs due to lack fo time. His teammate doesn’t make any conversation, which Charles is thankful for. He knew it was a bit rude to keep his earphones in but he just needs this. And he thinks that Carlos knows. 

When you first showed him this song, you were in the driver’s seat and singing to him. You wanted to show him your favorite spot to get away, a little bite of paradise that you had never shown anyone. He thinks back to your hair whipping in the wind, sunglasses framing your face nicely as you grinned over at him. The memory of kisses at red lights and giggles along the way burn his lips. He has to rub them again, to remind himself that it was no longer real. 

Can you see what I'm not saying from my eyes?. All I know is love, for you it's real. You pulled your sunglasses to the edge of your nose, shooting him a wink. He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. He never ever wanted to stop kissing you. Never. 

“Here.” 

Charles nods and pulls his AirPods out, placing them back in the case and tossing them into the glove box of the loaned Ferrari. The event goes as every event goes, with forced conversations as Charles tries to wow sponsors about the potential Ferrari has yet to tap with their help. He does his best, but after the fourth conversation he’s spent and wishes that he ended up bringing his AirPods down. But Mattia would have his neck, so he settles for the only beer he is allowed for the night. He watches as Carlos speaks to another aged man, a wide smile on his lips as he shakes the man’s hand and walks away. The Spaniard raises is brows with an exasperated expression.

“Eso fue demasiado.” That was too much. Carlos mumbles, plopping next to Charles. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired. Didn’t get to nap.” Carlos clicks his tongue and Charles chuckles.

“What song were you listening to in the car?” The man leans back into the chair, drinking his water.

“Ah… just an old one a friend showed me a while ago.”

“Who? Dove?”

Charles is quick to shake his head, “Pfft, no.” 

The look on his friend’s face shows that he is unconvinced, but he chooses not to comment. “Have you spoken to her?”

“No. Of course not.”

Carlos nods, “Just asking. She still talks to Lando every now and again. Saw them on FaceTime in-.” 

“Carlos, please.” Charles chokes on air, shaking his head and effectively shutting his teammate up. “Sorry… I just can’t.”

There is a pang of jealousy that runs through Charles’ blood. Why wouldn’t you talk to Lando? He was one of your closest friends, long before the two of you were anything. He tries to coax himself off a cliff of insecurity he built himself in the short span of time. Nothing works, and if he didn’t know any better he would think that Carlos could see the smoke fuming from his ears.

“Sorry. Listen, if it means anything at all… she’s not seeing anyone.” 

Charles nods, not sparing another word on the matter. The night dwindles to a close in a bout twenty minutes time, and Carlos drives the both of them home. One AirPod returns to his ear, the song from earlier picking up from where it left off. 

And for you, girl, I swear I'd do the worst.  He would. He would do anything for you. If you called him right this second and asked him to fly to you, he would. Hell or high water he’d find a way. His phone vibrates, and he looks down in hope. But it dies as quickly as it comes, Hannah’s name illuminating his screen in the form of a FaceTime call. He leaves it to ring, looking out the window and patiently waiting for the song to resume. 

-

Silverstone was an absolute shit show. From the red flag to the shit strategy that costed him a podium, he was not doing well. He did his best to keep up with appearances, answered questions with the list of generic answers he had memorized in the back of his head from years of media training. But he knew, there was no hiding the disappointment in his features. You always said his eyes gave him away. 

Charles barely kept it together through the team photo, his hand gripping the energy drink in his hand as he bites down in the back of his mouth to smile at the camera. He has never left the track faster in his life. The ride back to the hotel was accompanied by dull British radio and his phone going off with calls and texts from people checking up on him. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to discuss the day further. When he finally rolls into his bed, his fingers move ahead of his mind, and he calls a name before even reading it. 

It rings once. twice. thrice. It rings until your voicemail plays. Sweet, soft melodic voice reminding him of the beep. He wished you picked up, even if it was to say never to call you again. But he settled for the recording before speaking. 

“Hi… sorry. I just needed to talk to someone but you must be busy. Or…. tu ne veux pas me parler. You don't want to talk to me. That’s fine.” Charles pauses, wondering if this was worth it. But he sighs and continues anyways, “Today wasn’t a good day. Je suis vraiment bouleversé en ce moment. I’m really upset right now. You always knew what to say, so I thought I’d call. Sorry. I lo— Bye.” 

Charles hangs up before he can make himself an even bigger fool of himself. He shakes his head, dropping his phone next to him on the bed. A groan rumbles from his throat, frustration growing within him. He fucking hated his situation. He hated not winning, of slipping through the cracks, of feeling alone while being surrounded by people who want to help him. He hated that in his mind, you the only thing that could cure the sick feeling in his stomach.  

He flies back to Monaco the same night, opting out of a celebratory trip for Carlos. He apologized, promising his teammate a treat of sorts when they see each other again. Hannah was so kind to pick him up, even if he insisted he could’ve just taken a cab. Nonsense, she said on the phone. She was so excited to see him, and Charles felt bad for ignoring her for the last couple of days. Charles held her hand, kissed her sweetly, invited her up, buried himself in her in all attempts to forget about the weekend behind him, to forget that he had made a fool of himself. He wanted to forget that he tried to call you. But as he lays in his bed, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath, he finds himself wishing you had answered. He wished that you were there instead. 

Charles finally gets around to answering some texts, opting to go sit in his living room since the jet lag refused to let him sleep. He sent many ‘thank yous’ to friends and family, curt responses to fool one into thinking that he was fine. He types and types until his eyes are raw and there wasn’t a single text left unread. By the time Charles put’s his phone down, it’s nearly three in the morning. His mind is a jumble of thoughts, of the hopes of the future and troubles of the past. He grabs his little blue journal on the table and begins to write furiously. He writes every hazy thought, laying the words out on the page before him until his hand burns and eyes are blurred with tears. His breathing turns heavy, heart racing, the anger finally getting the best of him. He has to drop the pen on the table. Every part of his body is burning with exhaustion, but his mind continues to race and effectively keep him awake. 

Life moves in waves, and Charles feels as though his dip is deeper than most times he can recall in his brief 24 year stint on earth. There were many lows, but he always knew that he’d find a way up and out of it. But now, with his career, wounded ego, and more so his injured heart, it seems that the riptide continues to drag him under. It’s began to get harder and harder to breath in life, and he was worried that it would continue to feel that way. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to swim up, and that scared him.  

“Charles?” 

The Monegasque jumps in his seat, turning to see Hannah watching him from the door frame of his room. 

“Y’scared me.” He mumbles, standing up and walking over to her and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Go to back to bed Han, I’ll be there in a second.” 

Her hand rests on his chest whilst his rest comfortably on her hip. He squeezes gently, smiling tiredly at her. Her large brown eyes dart left and right, searching his face for a clue as to what he might be feeling but found nothing. She couldn’t read him, not matter how hard she tried. “Why don’t you talk to me?”

Charles tilts his head, “Comment cela?” What do you mean?

“There’s something going on in your head, like a storm. And I try to read you, and to understand, but I feel like every time I try you move further from me.” 

Charles’ hand drops from her as he takes a step back, “There isn’t anything to talk about Hannah.” 

“I think that there is. Why won’t you-“

“Ça suffit! That’s enough! Leave it. Please.” 

The man doesn’t notice the way she jumped when he raised his voice, or the sadness brewing in her eyes as they gloss over in tears. He simply walks away to his kitchen, leaving her standing in the doorway, confused and hurt. He can’t feel bad, he can’t feel anything other than exhaustion. Charles pours himself a glass of water, gulping it down before smacking it back on the counter. Any harder and the glass would’ve broken. Hannah walks into the kitchen, and he fights the urge to groan. 

“Do you not want me here? Because I can leave Charles. I’ll go and let you sulk here. By yourself.” 

He doesn’t answer, just sinks his head into his hands and shutting his eyes. His calloused fingers grip the ends of his hair, tugging in attempts to pull him out of the tiredness he is feeling. 

“Charles-“

“Hannah. Please, please, please.” The worlds come out in mumbles. Soft, but very grim. “Not now.”

“I don’t know what else I can do for you Charles.” Her voice is soft, but it was missing something. “How can I help you? Help me understand. Help me help you Charles.”

Guilt eats him up at the sound of her voice, the willingness, the want to be there with him even when he is unmistakably pushing her away. Tears spring to his eyes, seeping through his closed lids and onto the heel of his hands. Fuck, he thinks. He knows his answer, he knows the words he wants to say. It sits in the back of his throat, burning and bubbling past his lips. Charles forces himself to look up from his hands, the light in the kitchen burning his eyes. Hannah’s are soft, worried at the sight of Charles’ red and sad eyes as he looks up at her.

“You can’t.” His voice comes out broken, and she doesn’t fully register what he means. “You can’t help me Hannah. I can’t even help myself.”

She doesn’t respond, just looks at him with sad eyes. Her hand comes up to push his brown locks off his forehead before cupping his cheek. Hannah just presses a kiss to his forehead, lips lingering longer than he’d anticipated. There is a bit of a weight in the silence between them, and it allows the guilt in the Monegasque to fester even more. He coughs out a sob, shaking his head and pulling away from the soft embrace, one he knows he does not deserve.

“I’ll go.” Hannah says softly, “I’ll leave you. And when you’re ready-“

“Hannah, no,” Charles shakes his head, “You don’t get it it. You can’t help me, because I don’t want you to. You aren’t who I need, who I want.”

The girl stood before him, his harsh words causing her jaw to fall slack and tears to gloss over her eyes. There were a string of regrets and hateful words that fall from her lips, accusations of time wasted and the promise of never being able to forgive him. He watched her as she gathered herself and sauntered out of his life. With the slam of the door, Charles released a breath and groaned as he plops onto his couch. And finally, exhaustion takes its toll and pulls him into a deep slumber.

—  

His family boat had finally gotten out of the shop during his little break, and he decides to take it out onto the water. He spent many summer as a child, out in the deep blue. He enjoyed the peace, the feeling of being far away from such a busy world. His father taught him how to drive the boat, and where the best places to dock was. Charles didn’t drive out too far, just enough for his city to be covered by his thumb if he held it out. He strips himself of the blue button up and sits out on the deck. He is quick to open Spotify, playing the next song on the playlist on the boat speaker.

Keep Driving — Harry Styles

Charles lays back, the sun hitting his pale skin and warming him up. He tries to enjoy the sound of the waves against the side of the boat and the poppy beat of the song playing. He tries to enjoy the world around him for what it is, enjoy his solitude for what it is. But even in the peace he’s found himself in, his mind races. He thinks about Monaco and Canada, even the race just a week before. The universe hasn’t been too kind with him, both on and off the track. 

Harry Styles is a world renowned artist, and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t like a lot of his songs. His most recent album was his— and your— favorite. The poppy beat playing over the speaker brings a smile to his lips, the memory of drive out of to the port and this very song playing in his car. He remembers the way the wind whips through your hair, your hand moving up and down in the quick moving air. His sunglasses adorned your face, as did his Monza hoodie. From head to toe, you were dripping in him. 

You turned to face him, a smile on your lips as you leaned over to press a kiss to his jaw. Maple syrup, coffee. Pancakes for two. He would never forger the way your lips felt against him as you peppered kisses up his jaw. Hash brown, egg yolk. I will always love you.

You moved onto your knees, turning in your seat to look at him. As the song sped up, so did you. You sung along with Harry, your voice all the more appealing to him. It was easy to tune the man out and listen to you. He pulled up to his space, putting his car in park and allowing you to finish out the song. A smile curves onto his lips at the memory of you popping off your seatbelt, leaning over the middle console to get closer to him. He couldn’t help himself in that moment, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to kiss you feverishly. Choke her, with a sea view.

Goosebumps prickle his skin, and his shorts begin to tighten at the thought of the cramped backseat and your warmth.

He sits on the bow of Monza, blue notebook in hand as he flips through the pages he had crammed with his thoughts. He stops at one dated two months ago, a letter addressed to you. 

Dove, 

One month without you seems too long. I miss you, but I know you’re doing well and that is the only thing keeping me away. Not having you here with me, at my home race no less, feels wrong. It feels empty. Everything feels empty without you. 

One month of being without you has been my personal torture, and I can’t seem to get anything right anymore. I wish that I could call, to just hear your voice and sound advice. But that would be selfish of me, would it not. So instead I write. I write letters to you, ones you will never read. It’s the only thing that makes sense to do. 

I’m sorry I was no longer good for you, and I’m sorry that it took you walking away from me to realize that I needed to do more. Your happiness, though away from me, is the only thing I find comfort in throughout this fucked up situation I find myself. At least you’re happy. Even if I’m not.

I love you. 

Charles

His handwriting was slanted, sloppy, the words quickly strung out on the page. It was one he wrote two minutes before qualifying, where he earned pole position. He’d imagine you would be happy for him, that if you were there you would greet him with kisses and a tight hug. You would say how proud you are of him, shower him in kind words. He flips the page, the letter he wrote after the race.

Dove. It hurts more than it should. Come home, I need you.

Hollywood Forever — Finneas

The music slowed down considerably, the soft notes of the piano vibrating through the speaker. D major, then G major, in sequence until Finneas’ voice serenades him softly. Bury me in Hollywood, forever… underneath the starry sky. Charles maneuvers his way from the bow of the yacht to the wheel, turning the engine on and turning back around to cruise home. The sun has moved down considerably, nearly kissing the ocean. The sky turns from blue to pink before his eyes, the lights of Monaco flickering on. Home has never looked more beautiful. For the briefest of moments he is able to relish in his city and appreciate. With the accompaniment of the soft music, he felt like he was falling in love all over again. 

Monaco was always his city, but never yours. Maybe that was the disconnect. He always expressed his desire to live in Monaco at the end of his career, to raise his family on the same streets he did. And in all the times he shared those dreams with you, you’d smile and nod, never really saying much. He assumed then that it was because you simply agreed, but maybe you didn’t. 

I don't ever wanna find out how it ends…

This song played at your best friend’s wedding. The couple having their first dance, and in turn invited couples to join them as the song changes. He offered you his hand, which you gracefully took and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor. And though it was crowded with people in love, to him it was just the two of you. His hands rested comfortably on your hips while your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. There were no words, just longing looks that read with so much love and hope. Hope for the future you both dreamed of. Love for one another, one you both believed would never end. Ignorance truly was bliss. 

Missed you harder than I thought I'd get to, we just never had the time. Maybe it was his inconsistent schedule, the fluctuation of time spent together and apart no longer suited your needs. This season had shown Charles his ability to reach new heights, it made reaching for the stars a little less scary. For a moment in time, he had everything in his grasp. And then one by one, they all seemed to trickle through his fingers like sand. Perhaps, he was just no longer enough for you. 

And I don't wanna change the station, because you're the only one I like at 2AM. You would always be enough for him, Charles thought. Even miles away, apart from him, happier without him, it was enough for him. He can live in satisfaction that at least you got it right. 

He ties off his boat onto the pier, pausing the song so that he can continue listening on his drive home. A bag of his belongings slung over his shoulder, and his phone in one hand as he mindlessly taps your name to call you again. Just as it was in Silverstone, your sweet voicemail rings through the speaker.

“Hi. Drove out to our spot today, and was thinking about everything. Thinking about you. I’m sorry I called you last week, it was kind of selfish… well really selfish actually. I’m sorry. I hope you’re well… I hope you’re happy. I really do. I lo—“ He hesitates, throat closing up as the words try to roll off his tongue as effortlessly as it once did. Tears prickle his eyes but he shakes his head. “I won’t call you again. I’m sorry.” 

He ends the call and stuffs his phone in his pocket.

— 

Charles seems to fuck up everything in his path. He can’t hold onto a piece of good very long. The World Drivers Championship was beyond him now, and summer break now marked the halfway point of the season. He was meant to take a break, forget about spinning out and questionable strategy. But he can only spend so many days under the scorching Monaco sun, or nights out at clubs with his friends. His mind was not on break mode, and no matter how much he drank, slept, or swam, he was still thinking of work.

“Charles honey, get off your phone.” His mom scolds, patting his head as she passes him.

He lets his phone slide from his fingers, dropping onto his lap. Charles smiles over at his mom, standing from his seat and walking over to the kitchen. He attempts to steal a bite of food, but his mother slaps his hand away and he giggles. 

“‘M hungry.” 

“I know. But we need to wait for your brothers.” She mumbles, “Go eat a banana or something.” She waves him off and he chuckles. Charles settles on the stool by the kitchen island, taking his mom’s advice and grabbing a banana. 

Staying with mom has always been Charles’ great escape. No matter what happens to him, how far he is, Pascale will always be waiting for him with open arms. Whenever life wasn’t treating him so kindly, she was always ready with a remedy. She loved her sons more than anything, and they are her life line as she is to them. Charles watches as his mom effortlessly maneuvers her way through the kitchen. There is a faint smell of garlic in the air, and it makes the boy’s mouth water. 

“It’s really good that you came to visit, mon doux garçon. My sweet boy. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too Mama.” He affirms, taking a bite of his fruit.

“Missed your cooking as well.”

She laughs, “Of course you did.” 

There a few moments of silence as she finishes what she is doing in the pan, and then sticking a dish in the oven. Then she finally turns, the beige towel in her hands as she dries off her hands. “What’s on your mind?”

Charles smiles knowingly, looking down at his fingers as he shrugs. “What isn’t?”

“Ay, mon doux.” She shakes her head, “You don’t have to carry the weight all by yourself, you know?”

He looks up at his mom, “Yeah… but sometimes I feel like I have to.”

She nods. Pascale knows her son all too well, how gentle hearted he is and his need to carry the burden if it means making life easier for those around him. She loves her son, and it nearly breaks her to see how defeated he is. But she also knows that he is more than his results, more than the trials and tribulations he is going through in life. 

“You are strong Charles, thick skin, like your Papa. He’d be proud.” She says softly, walking around the counter to press a kiss to the back of his head, “But he would also remind you that it’s okay to not be so strong sometimes. That it is okay to show that you are vulnerable, not okay.”

She gives his shoulder one last squeeze before leaving him to his thoughts. He sighs, pulling his phone out and scrolling through multiple notifications until his eyes land on your name. You posted on instagram, and he is quick to open the app and see. It is a photo of you, sitting by the water, skin glistening in the sun. And your smile, oh your beautiful smile. It made his heart beat a little quicker. But then he really looks at the photo, the background. The blue water, and the fact that you weren’t sitting on sand, but on a pier. He knew exactly where you are.

You’re in Monaco.

He feels his heart come up his throat. You were in Monaco, his city. He felt psychotic, fighting the urge to jump in his car and look for you. He wanted to drive around, pretend to accidentally bump into you and it would be a fairytale reconciliation. But then he hears his brother’s voice, announcing his arrival, and he is grounded. He promised in a silly voicemail you probably never listened to that he would leave you alone. And he will. He’ll do the right thing and leave you alone. 

Charles was quiet for most of dinner, Arthur talking the most throughout the entire meal. So much so that Lorenzo begged him to shut up. Pascale observes the middle child, who sits to her right, idly pushing a piece of pasta around on his plate. 

“Mon doux,” His mom whispers, “please eat.” 

“Désolé maman.” Sorry mom. He nods and continues to eat. 

“Oh, I saw Dove today. She says hi to everyone.” Arthur’s voice is so nonchalant, Charles nearly misses your nickname. His eyes grow wide at the realization and he looks up from his plate to his little brother. Arthur doesn’t spare him a glance, just munching along on his dinner. 

Lorenzo kicks the youngest Leclerc under the table, and it is then when Arthur realizes his mistake. “Sorry. Yeah uh… sorry.”

“Is she well?” Charles asks, ignoring the awkward air between them. 

“Yeah, I think. We didn’t get to talk much, since we were just passing by.” Arthur answers. “Sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. Good that she’s good.”

And that was that. Dinner is quiet for the rest of the evening, and isn’t long until the boys are quietly cleaning up the mess while their mother gets ready for bed. Charles and Arthur wash the dishes, while Lorenzo takes out the trash. The brothers are quiet in their chore, Arthur washing and rinsing as Charles wipes down and puts them away. 

“Is she happy?” Charles asks softly, breaking the silence.

Arthur pauses, confused for a brief moment before realizing what he meant by his question. “Maybe you should ask her.” 

Charles shakes his head, “I can’t. I could try, but I can’t. And I shouldn’t.”

Arthur nods. “I never understood what went wrong between the two of you Charles. Everything was so good, no?”

“I thought so… but I guess I was wrong.” Charles dries his hands as he places the last of the dishes away. 

The day you broke up was not a memory Charles liked to look back on. It was a memory he kept stored away in the furthest corner of his mind. But he knew no matter how much he tried to bury it, there was no erasing the fact it happened. He’d never forget the look in your eyes, the tears on your cheeks as you watched him pace before you. You apologized and apologized, but for what? 

“Why do you think this can’t work out anymore, dove?”

“Charles, I already said why. We’re not in the same place in life. You’re moving a thousand miles a minute, moving so fast uphill and I’m not able to keep up. I can’t keep being your arm candy, the smiling supportive girlfriend while I’m literally drowning in my misery.” 

“Chérie, please.” 

“Charles, I’ve made up my mind. I need this. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

He can remember the rage seething beneath his skin. He didn’t understand why you wanted to push him away, why you felt so miserable. He didn’t get it then. He still doesn’t understand. Maybe he should’ve fought harder, but you were already so defeated he didn’t think it was the right thing to do then.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“Will saying I don’t make it easier for you to let me go?”

Your words sent a shiver up his spine.

Arthur leans against the counter, looking at his older brother who is deep in thought. “She said she’s moving back to Monaco… she found a job in the city.” Charles looks up, and he feels a spark of hope light up in the pit of his stomach. You were here to stay. “She didn’t say where, or what… but you know… you never know.”

With that, Arthur pushes himself up and pats his brother on the back, retreating to his room to go to sleep and effectively leaving Charles to ponder over you. 

Maybe in time, the Monegasque thought to himself, the universe will let our paths cross once more.

—

The last three days of the summer break, Charles spent getting back into his normal routines. Not that Andrea would let him stray from it, but he was granted a couple of cheat days so that he could really enjoy his break. And of course, with the break coming to a close, it wouldn’t be complete if the other nineteen drivers attempted one last hoorah before returning to the track and vying for a win. But of course, twenty men trying to plan to come together required a miracle. And that was something none of them had. At the end of it, the only ones able to attend the “last hoorah” was Charles, Lando, Max, Pierre, and surprisingly George. The rest of the grid was either still in the middle of traveling back, or staying one more day in their little piece of paradise. 

The club was packed for a Wednesday. By the time the boys had pulled up to check in, the general admissions line was a mile long, and the music was already starting to blend into the immense chatter. Charles is thankful that Max had secured a table for the group, and that they didn’t have to wait long. They were sat in the far back, just two tables to the left of the DJ booth. Bottle service was quick, and in no time Charles had a glass of Black Label whiskey between his hands. The music is typical house music, the DJ another one of Lando’s friends. 

From where he is sitting, he can see the entire dance floor, and the second bar which happens to be right by his table. There is a huge crowd of people who had occupied the space in front of the DJ, multitudes of people rubbing backs to fronts and wandering hands. He was almost jealous, wishing that he could stomach the idea of being one of those people. But you couldn’t pump the man with enough alcohol to get him there. He was far too comfortable being a wallflower, quietly observing those around him as he sips on his drink. 

“I bought us a round!” 

Max grins as the lady brings a tray of shot glasses, each of them filled to the brim with a clear liquid. One would assume it’s vodka, but knowing Max it was likely— 

“Tequila!"

Charles grimaces, but he isn’t easily defeated. And one cheesy toast later, he is throwing the foul tasting liquid down his throat. French curse words are muttered beneath his breath as he attempts to shake away the taste. Charles opts to pass on the next two rounds, to which Pierre calls him out for. 

“Party pooper!” 

Charles smirks, sipping his whiskey as he watches his normally composed friends turn into giggly drunks. He looks around the club, eyes scanning the crowd until a sparkly blue dress catches his eyes. He does a double take, but the shiny thing disappears into the crowd. His heart picks up, and he swears he knows who it was. But then his friends are yelling at him and he has to turn away. The time flies by, and soon he is calling every single girlfriend to pick up their respective drive until it is just him and Pierre. He throws his best friend into the back seat of his car with a bottle of water, a plastic bag, and threats if the Frenchman threw up anywhere in his car. As he strolls to the driver side, the sparkle of blue catches his eye and his head snaps in that direction. 

The girl is slumped on the bench, head in her hands as her elbows rest on her thighs. Charles notices the way the girl’s body sways ever so slightly. She was far too drunk to be sitting alone, waiting for God only know who. He walks up to her, and the closer he gets the more familiar she becomes. It isn’t until the girl finally looks up with puffy eyes and mascara stained cheeks does he realize who it is.

“Dove?”

Your face contorts into one of sadness, mumbling ‘oh nos’ over and over as you try to hide behind your hands.

“Dove, what’s wrong?” He reaches out to you, but you flinch. 

“No please.” 

Charles’ heart stings, but he listens to you. “Who are you here with?” You shrug and he can’t help but let disappointment take over his features. “Dove, who?”

“Don’t say it like that, like you’re mad at me.” You slur. 

Charles sighs, “I’m not mad. Just worried.”

You nod, but still don’t answer. Instead, he watches as you turn into a shaking mess of sobs. He doesn’t know if he should hold you, or if there was anything he could say. Suddenly, he was unsure of what to do when it came to you. So he stood there, heart aching as you cry before him. 

“Dove—“

“Charles, please.” 

His mouth clamps shut for a moment before he opens again, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You look up at him, eyes red and puffy, but wide in shock. “You don’t have too.”

“Yeah, but I want to.” You don’t answer, so he extends his hand, “C’mon. I’ll take you home.” 

You nod, reaching out and using his hand to pull yourself up from the bench. Your hold leaves as quickly as it comes, and Charles wishes that your hand stayed in his for a moment longer. He watches as you stumble to his Ferrari, yanking the passenger door and falling into the seat. He inhales deeply, attempting to subdue his nerves before climbing into the drivers seat. Charles thanks the heavens Pierre is snoring softly in the back, and not mumbling any nonsense like he normally would.

“Where do you stay?” 

The drive to you apartment is only 5 minutes further up the road from Charles’ place, and it nearly made him choke. The car ride is silent, only Pierre’s soft snores and mumbles filling the space. When he pulls up to the front, he looks over at you. Your eyes are cast downwards at your fingers, thumbs twiddling in your lap. 

“Will you come back and spend the night?”

Charles chokes. He finally fucking chokes. “Dove, I don’t think…”

“I’m not that drunk Charles. Please?”

This was it, this was his chance. But as he stared at you and your sad eyes, the moment felt wrong. “I’ll walk you up. Okay?”

Your shoulders drop, and you’re quick to shake your head. “No. It’s fine, I can do it myself. Thanks for the ride.” 

The boy is frozen in his seat for a second as you hastily climb out. It takes you slamming the door shut before he scrambles out after you. “Dove!”

“Goodnight Charles!” You yell, not turning back. You can hear Charles’ shoes smacking on the concrete as he jogs up to you. He grabs your arm, skin burning at the contact, pulling you so that are facing him.

“Text me in the morning, then I’ll know you mean it.” 

Your lips fall agape, an argument ready to bubble past your lips. But instead you nod, too tired to argue. So you nod harder, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Okay.” 

“Do you still want me to walk you up?”

“No. No I’m okay. Thank you again.” 

Charles stands on the stoop, waiting until you make it past the front doors of your building. It isn’t until he sees you walk into the elevator through the glass doors does he finally retreat to his car and cruise back to his apartment.

Off My Face — Justin Bieber

Charles finally rolls into bed at nearly three in the morning. His body is exhausted, and it doesn’t take too long for him to fall asleep. But that wasn’t before he turned on his music, specifically your playlist, to lull him to sleep. 

His dreams are influenced by the Justin Bieber song, the boy not completely unconscious as the songs plays. The images his mind displays are of you, playing real memories that you shared together. It’s like a movie, he can hear the echos of your laugh and butchered French. He sees flashes of your smile, feels the ghost of your touch.

Your touch blurred my vision, it’s your world and I'm just in it. Even sober I'm not thinkin' straight.

He turns over in his bed, staring at the empty space that you used to occupy. The pillowcase lays unwrinkled, the sheets pressed and untouched. His fingers graze over the material, imagining for a second that you are laying next to him. He can see the way your chest rises and falls, head turned towards the moon while your fingers grasp onto his. Charles nearly caves at the idea of driving back to you, knocking on every door until you answer. And I don't know how you do it, but I'm forever ruined by you.

Sleep finally wins, taking him to a place where all he sees is you. You consume his every thought, every imagination, that night. For the first time, Charles sleeps with a little bit of hope. There are some things dreams can’t truly emulate, and that’s the feeling of your warmth. The sun forces him out of the dirty dream, and he groans softly. His head was swirling, trying to piece together the bits and pieces of  you from his dreams. 

He grabs his phone, bitterly disappointed. 

8:36 am, and not one text from you.

—

Paris in the Rain — Lauv

Charles finds himself sitting at his favorite coffee shop in Monaco, in the furthest booth in the back of cafe. He sips on his coffee, scrolling through his computer as he tries to answer emails and prepare himself for the second half of the season. He slips his headphones on, mindlessly pressing play and allowing the song to play.

It was the next song on the playlist, and the angry part of him wants to change it. You never texted him. It’s been thirty-six hours since he dropped you home, and it’s been radio silence. He was frustrated, ultimately let down by your lack of communication. He almost wishes that he had taken you up on your offer, almost wishes he had chosen to be selfish. 

The only thing stopping him from changing the song is the fact that it’s the one song attached to the perfect memory. Paris in the rain is his favorite memory with you. 

It was one of the first trips you had taken together outside of race weekends. Charles wanted the trip to be perfect, but the weather had different plans. He planned a whole day, only for the overcast and rain to ruin it completely.

“I’m so sorry Dove, this isn’t what I had planned for us.” Charles mumbled, kissing your temple. 

You were more than understanding, and somehow you manage to convince him to go out in the middle of the night, when the streets were quiet and the city half asleep. You were clad in a blue dress, Charles’ linen button top matching you. You both sit on the picnic blanket, eating all the snacks you bought in the hotel gift shop. Then it’s one drop, then another, then another until the drizzle grows heavier and heavier. 'Cause anywhere with you feels right.

He can never erase the memory of your laughter as he chases you around the park, clothes drenched from the rain. He hears you squeals as he picks you up and throwing you over his shoulder, and your complaints that he wasn’t playing fair. It truly was a scene from a book, like a writer describing the perfect moment in which two character will fully admit they are in love with each other. But neither of you had to say anything. Words couldn’t justify the way your hearts wanted to thump out of your chests as you stare into each other’s eyes. 

Don't know how I ever did it all without you.

Charles answers the last of his emails, finally shutting his computer and transferring his attention to his phone. He scrolls through Instagram, sipping idly on his coffee. He double taps nearly every photo on his feed until someone slides into the seat front of him. He looks up from his phone, eyes wide as he meets your gaze. 

“Knew you’d be here.” You say softly. 

Charles takes one more sip before setting his cup down, “Yeah, guess you did.” 

The air between the both of you is thick, tense, awkward. Neither of you speak, instead sitting uncomfortably while you wait for the other to say just about anything. 

“I know I didn’t text and I—“

“Dove, it’s fine.” 

“Charles, shut up and let me talk.” Your eyes grow wide, brows furrowed in an attempt to look stern. The Monegasque nods, leaning back in his seat and waiting for you to speak. “I’m sorry. Moving back has been a lot, adjusting has been a lot… seeing you has been a lot. I was getting used to the idea of my independence and then you try to call me and leave voicemails…”

“I’m sorry.” Charles’ voice is genuine. All the anger that was inside of him dissipates as he looks up at you. “I wasn’t thinking.” 

“Don’t say sorry. It was nice to hear from you… and I’m sorry about everything going on.”

The boy smiles, nodding. “Yeah. Me too.”

There it is again, that awkward air settling between the two of you. Three, nearly four, months of time apart doesn’t make the conversation flow as easily as either of you wished. There used to be a million things that Charles wanted to tell you, the pages in his little blue notebook proving it. But it didn’t feel right, didn’t feel fair to pour out his heartache from the last four months onto your lap. 

So instead Charles scrambles for his book, flipping through the pages and carefully tearing out two pages. He folds them nicely and sliding them over to you. 

“I… I have to go. But I thought that maybe you should read it. I wrote it to you when I got back home from Silverstone.” Charles gathers his things, mindlessly leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “You look good, Dove. It makes me happy.”

You watch as the man walks away from you, shoulders high and steps calm. The paper sits beneath your fingers, holding whatever tormented Charles the night he wrote it. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you were expecting when you came to the cafe. You half expected Charles to be here, that things would roll out on the table as easily as it did in your head and that maybe you could both come to some sort of agreement on your relationship. 

Yes, it’s been done. Long over, time separating the two of you. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him in the time spent apart. Even if you knew that what you decided what was right for the both of you, it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Four months ago, you were in no headspace to be with Charles. You could no longer be what he needed, or wanted, even if he claimed that you would always be enough. How could you be, when you weren’t even enough for yourself? You remember the anxiety induced thoughts, nightmare of Charles’ resentful stare as you plummeted further and further into your hole of poor mental health. 

Solitude was what you needed, being your own individual person away from Charles is what you needed. And although you live with the pain of breaking his and your own heart, it wasn’t a decision you regret making. 

You carefully slide the paper into your purse, standing and walking out of the coffee shop. Monaco was gloomier than most days, the grey clouds threatening to pour rain on the beautiful city. Tiny droplets tap on your windshield, pit pat, reminding you fondly of Paris in the rain, some months ago.

—

The moment summer break ended, Charles was back to traveling city to city, sitting in his bright red car to race in loops. Laps and laps, the days blurring into the next, but not without thinking of you. You never texted him about the pieces of his journal that he handed off, but you did wish him luck every now and again. You were both in this weird limbo, unsure of where the line is, and just how close either of you can get to crossing it. 

Charles was worried you had thrown the note away, or maybe it was lost. There were no talks about it, not questions, and it makes him queasy. Desperation grows inside of him, festering with the stress and anxiety that had been brewing in the pit of his gut. Andrea looks at him, the way his leg bounces as he fiddles with the sleeve of his fireproofs. 

“You’re gonna do fine mate, don’t worry so much. Just practice.”

The Monegasque looks up at his friend, smiling curtly before grabbing his baclava from the seat next to him. “Right. Just practice.”

He goes through the motions, hopping into his car, testing his gears, patiently waiting until he is allowed to drive on the track. There is constant back and forth between him and the pit wall, Charles making several comments about the feel, and the engineers reporting data back. They comment his poor speed in the first two sectors, pushing him to speed up in the last one. Charles does his best, but is still nine hundredths of second slower than Max. He goes again, desperately trying to push the car to its limit. But it doesn’t perform how he had hoped. He didn’t perform how he had hoped. 

Charles groans, a bit of aggression in his movements as he takes apart his gear so that he can climb out. No one tries to speak to him as he rushes straight to the screen, ready to read and listen to the data gathered from the first free practice. But that only did so much, Charles finishing P3 in the second practice, two places behind his teammate. 

Sunflower — Rex Orange County

When Charles returns to the hotel, your playlist was already playing on shuffle. The music had become his white noise, comforting but no longer something he noticed so much. He really did miss you now, and he finally gives in to the urge to text you. He asks if he could call you before he gets ready for bed. But even once he’s in his boxers, pulling the covers back, there is no response. Charles decides to call you anyways, but the ringing stops almost immediately. 

You declined his call. 

His heart speeds up, attempting to go through every form of social media to see if you were okay. He looked for any signs of life, even texting you to ask if you’re alright. A moment of relief comes in the form of the grey bubble popping up, the three dots showing that you were typing. But your text makes his throat run dry.

Read your note. 

That was it. No reaction, no explanation. Just three words and then silence. Charles tries to call you again, but you are quick to decline. He tries two more times, and each time you deny speaking to him. He texts you, asking what’s wrong. But there is no response. 

I want to know/ where I can go / when you're not around. Panic ensues. Charles is sweating as he throws the covers off his body and clambers into sweats and a shirt that were already sprawled out on the couch. He attempts to call Lando, see if you had told him anything. But the phone rings til the call fails. He calls you again, and you decline.

Dove, answer please. Talk to me. Say something.  Anything.

No response. The boy rummages through his notebook, ensuring that he handed you the right pages. He did. He racks his brain, scouring through his brain as he tries to remember every single word he wrote on that page. He still can’t fathom what could’ve made you mad. Charles spends the night on his bedroom floor, back pressed against his bedside as he waits for his phone to ring with your name. Tryna keep my mind at bay, Sunflower still grows at night.

He thinks of the song playing, tracing the first memory he has of the song. It was a while ago, when you had just started coming to more races in the red garage. It wasn’t a particularly strong weekend for Charles, everyday growing more and more frustrating as he feels his failures in the red car adding up. He was on his way up to you after the debriefing, completely tired and defeated after a terrible 3rd practice and average qualifying. It was late, way beyond a reasonable bedtime, so he was surprised to see you still awake. You were half read for bed, rubbing your face clean of make up and dirt with just a Ferrari hoodie and leggings on. He remembers the song bumping in the background through your phone, they way you bounced from hip to hip as you hum along. 

You didn’t register his sullen face, or maybe you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You saunter over to him pressing a soft kiss on his lips without stopping your dance. You know you need to get yourself to sleep and dream a dream of you and I, you sing, lifting his arm and twirling in front of him. He found it hard to fight the smile forming on his face, the hard weekend suddenly the least of his worries. 

There's no need to keep an open eye, I promise I'm the one for you just let me hold you in these arms tonight. You wrapped his arms around your torso, forcing his body to move with yours. You watched as his brows relaxed, and a shy smile curves on his lips as he leans in to kiss you one more time.

His phone chimes, your name lighting up the screen.

We’ll talk when you get back. Get some sleep. Good luck tomorrow.

—

More of You — MAGIC!

Charles sits at the top of the Sedici, fingers moving up and down the silver wheel as he waits for you to arrive. His heart is in his stomach, but the feeling was no longer foreign to him. He looks at at the coast, the way the golden sun slowly sinks to kiss the ocean. 

“Hey.” 

He turns to face you, standing up with a smile. “Hi Dove.” He gestures to the seat across from him, and you take it.

“It’s nice… different from the Monza for sure. Do you still have her?”

Charles swivels in his chair, pointing the smaller boat next to him, “Yep.” 

You nod, smiling fondly. You shared many moments with him on that little thing, private moments that you keep secure in your heart. There is a brief moment of silence, certainly not a terrible one, but the both of you have seen better moments. You look at Charles, really look at him this time. You count the moles on his face, the lines beneath his eyes. They were still as bright as they were in your dreams. 

There was no way to start, so you pull out the cream pieces of lined paper. You flip it open, and the crinkle of the paper causes Charles to look in your direction. “My dearest Dove…” 

I stare you, sometimes at night, wishing I could just press rewind… ’cause I just want more. Charles watches you, the way your bottom lips is caught between your teeth as you stare at the words from in front of you. Your face is stoic, eyes darting from left to right as you read the words in your head. 

“It is two in the morning. My body is tired, sore, but my mind doesn’t want to stop moving…” Your voice is sweet, contrasting the sad words of the boy from that early July morning. “I wish- I wish that you were here.” 

You finally look up at him, and that’s when Charles sees the tears glossing over your eyes. He reaches out, your fingers quickly finding it’s place in the palms of his hands. He squeezes softly, encouraging you to continue. 

You look up from the paper, folding it shut as you exhale. “You still listened to the playlist?”

He nods, “Yeah. It helped some… but it’s not the same.” 

You smile sadly, looking back down at the paper to continue. “Every song is hand picked, a piece of us and our story. It is an endless cycle of love, of pining, of wishing that we were right next to each other. Do you still listen to these songs, do you still think of me when you do?” 

“Do you?” Charles asks. 

You hum, nodding. “Always.”

Charles can’t help but smile, nodding softly and encouraging you to continue reading the letter.

“I always find myself wishing that you were here with me, here to celebrate every win, but also to forget about the failures. I’m always wishing that I had more of you.” Drops of tears spill onto your cheek, and Charles releases your hand to cup your face. The pad of his thumb swipes it away.

What is this hold you got on me? Stronger force than gravity…

“But you were right. This time apart was necessary. It was needed, and-“

Charles’ hand drops from your face, resting on your thigh as his thumb rubs soothing circles on on your skin. “I think I needed it more than I thought I did.” He finishes

“I’m happy that the world turns in your favor, I think mine is upside down. I’m still trying to find my way, find my independence in the world, find my identity other than the predestined. I’m finding who I am beyond rubber on the track and all the podiums. And if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I was always meant to love you. Whether it’s in your presence, or from thousands of miles away, loving you has been and will always be part of my story.” 

In my next life, I'll be looking for you. “In this life and the next, mon cherie.” 

You fold the paper once more, slipping it into your purse. Your fingers find his, looping between them. The silence is light, comfortable, as his green eyes bore into yours. There weren’t any words either of you can say, the note saying just enough for the both of you. 

The sun finally kisses the sea, the sky turning from blue to pink. The world around you dims. 

“In this life and the next, Charles.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #charles leclerc angst

[nervousgardenerkid]

steve request because i’m a steve simp first and a person second—

no thoughts, head empty, just cooking with steve and trying to have a chill domestic fluff moment but all the kids are over in the other room complaining about how long it’s taking—

much love bestie <333

Sunday kind of love

a/n: bestie,,this is probably the cutest thing i've ever written. like im OBSESSED😭i hope you enjoy it! credit to the gif owner!

warnings: tooth rotting fluff (it's so cute) no female pronouns are used but the term girlfriend is, steve being madly in love with reader

Winters in Hawkins had two phases. The first phase was the beginning of winter. Colder breezes came by, and it looked a little gloomier than usual. The trees were bare and the colorful leaves that once sat upon the branches were now on the floor, soggy from the frost that painted them overnight. The second phase was your favorite. You'd go to bed with a bare yard and wake up with a white blanket of snow there instead.

It was currently Sunday morning. You woke up with a quiet groan and shivered from the lack of warmth you felt. You reach your hand out feeling for the warm body that was next to you when you fell asleep, but when you don't feel him you lift your head and open your eyes. You pout when you're met with an empty bed, trying to think of where he went but your thoughts are cut short when you hear a noise coming from the kitchen. With a quiet tsk leaving your mouth, you get out of the bed, grab your shorts that were on the floor, and put them on. You shiver from the coolness of the room and walk over to the dresser grabbing the first long-sleeve top you find. Once you slip it over your head you quietly make your way downstairs smiling when you hear him humming a soft tune.

You peek your head around the corner, your heart growing three times its size at the sight in front of you. Steve is biting down on his lower lip as he reads the measurements on the back of the box he's holding. His eyes flick up toward you and he gives you an award-winning smile. You walk into the kitchen, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you place a kiss on his cheek.

“Morning Stevie.”

“Morning baby,” he mumbles while bringing you closer to him and placing a kiss on the crown of your head. You let out a hum when you start to smell all of the delicious food he's making. Untangling yourself from his arms you turn toward the stove grabbing a piece of bacon Steve had laid out on a plate.

“Hey, don't go crazy now. The kids will flip if they don't have bacon with their pancakes.”

You swallow the food that's in your mouth and pop the other half of bacon into Steve’s.

“Did you get eggos for El?”

He nods his head before swallowing his food.

“Got her plate of eggos right here.”

You hop onto the counter and smile when Steve brings over a bowl of pancake batter. He starts stirring occasionally, glancing at you with a smile on his face.

“Do you need help with anything?”

He stops to think about it.

“Actually, can you get the hash browns out of the freezer and start cooking them? I already have the pan out for it, all you need is a bit of oil and just put them on the pan.”

You smile and hop off the counter going to the freezer to get started on the hash browns. A comfortable silence falls over you and Steve as you both listen to the song that's playing on the radio. Steve hums along quietly and smiles at what he hears from you.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you were a master in the kitchen?”

He chuckles. “I wouldn't say master,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I dunno, I guess I just learned along the way. I mean, my parents weren't around and a boy’s gotta eat.”

He flips a pancake onto a plate before pouring more batter on the hot pan.

“Figured I could learn a thing or two while they were gone.”

“Besides throwing insane parties?” you giggle out.

“Last time I checked, you liked those insane parties,” he mumbles while wrapping his arms around you.

“Wrong, I liked the boy who threw the insane parties.”

Steve smiles at you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, do you know if he's single?”

He pretends to think about it before snapping his fingers. “You know, I think heard he's crazy in love with his beautiful girlfriend.”

You pout.

“Darn, I guess you'll have to do.” you giggle out while leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Lucky me,” he mumbles against your lips. Before the kiss could get passionate you hear footsteps coming into the kitchen then collective groans.

“Can you guys not make out above our food?” Dustin grumbled out while rubbing his eyes.

“Give them a break, they're in love.”

“Yeah. They're in love.” Max and El giggled while lightly pushing each other. Soon enough Lucas, Mike, and Will joined their friends in the kitchen all of them mumbling good morning to each other. You smile at them and grab the plate of bacon and hash browns before nodding over at the dining room table.

“Go sit down, Steve and I will bring the food.”

“We will?”

You shush him before following the kids into the dining room and placing down the plates of food you held. Steve watched with a smile on his face as you asked Will to grab plates. His heart swelled in his chest as Will passed out the plates and you poured everyone a cup of orange juice, rolling your eyes when Mike said he prefers apple juice.

Steve was never sure why his parents got such a big dining table when it was always just the three of them, but right now he's thankful they did. He watches with warm eyes as everyone starts to grab the food that's laid out in front of them, some giggling at the jokes that are being told while the others are still trying to fully wake up. You walk into the kitchen and flip over the pancake that Steve was making earlier.

“You okay? You almost burnt the pancakes.”

“I love you,” he whispers while wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you close to him.

You both sway to the song on the radio with smiles on your faces.

“I love you too.”

“I want to start a family with you.”

Your eyes widen and Steve laughs a beautiful laugh. He moves some hair out of your face before he continues.

“Not now obviously, but eventually. I want a family and I want it to be with you.”

You lean in, closing the space between you, and give him the softest kiss he's ever received in his life. Steve feels like he's on a cloud, lips following yours as you pull away from him to put the pancake on the plate with the rest.

“We’ll have a family soon Steve.”

He smiles wide and you can see stars in his eyes

“Yeah? You mean it?”

You kiss his cheek and grab the pancakes and eggos for the kids.

“I wouldn't have it any other way. For now, let's focus on our other family, yeah?” you asked while gesturing to the kids.

Our family. His heart clenches in the best way possible as the words replay in his head on loop. He grabs the plates out of your hands and kisses the crown of your head, stopping when you grab his arm gently.

“You know,” you start. His curious eyes looking at you. “Just because we can't have a family yet, doesn't mean we can't practice starting one.”

He tilts his head a bit, confused before it sets in.

“Kids!” he shouts, making his way to the dining table. “Let's get you all fed and back to your parents! I'm sure they miss you all so much.”

Dustin grabs a pancake and looks at Steve.

“Actually, can I stay here till later? My mom isn't home-”

“You can stay with Mike.”

You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Of course, you can Dustin, we still have some movies to watch anyways.”

Dustin opens his mouth ready to thank you but stops when he sees Steve’s icy glare.

“You know what, I think I'll stay with Mike,” he said with a smile.

You walk by Steve pinching his arm, holding back your giggle when he jumps a bit. He follows you into the kitchen.

“You know, when we have kids they’re gonna throw off plans a lot.”

Steve shook his head. “Not our kids. Our kids are gonna be the best.”

“Oh, are they now?” you challenge.

“Of course they are! All six of them,” he says while backing into the dining room to eat with the kids.

You laugh but stop when you hear what he says.

“Wait, did you say six?!”

taglist <3

@cityofidek @spideyjass @simpingoverfictionalppl

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff

[doumachi]

beautiful stranger

ᰔᩚ beomgyu x reader coworkers to potential lovers

ᰔᩚ sfw / just silly fluff / mentions of a cafeteria? not proofread / pictures not mine

the first time you saw him was in the cafeteria, you’ve never seen him before, but he’s with a group of other guys chatting away. you can’t stop looking at him except for when he catches you staring and returns the favor with a cheeky grin.

you can see from your peripheral vision that he's walking straight towards you and your friends.

you freak out and quickly tell your friends that you have to go to the bathroom not giving them any time to reply before you're gone. you decide to end your break early and go back to your cubical.

the second time is when you’re making copies of paperwork but, this time it was him who saw you first. he came to print a document but got distracted when he saw you through the glass door. you looked so pretty and he accidentally bumped into the door.

as a result, you jumped and turned to the side. there he was, leaned against the wall holding his face in his hands. he lifted his head and saw you trying not to laugh, a grin on your face as you propped the door open and went back to your copies.

“you okay there” you ask, trying to calm your face, grabbing your papers ready to leave. “hehe, yeah im fine,” he replies with an airy chuckle.

desperate to keep the conversation going, he quickly changes the topic, unfortunately for you, he chooses to talk about how you were staring at him earlier :)

“soooo,” he begins, “do you always stare at handsome men in the cafeteria?” he asks playfully. you freeze trying to come up with an excuse.

“handsome men? i didn’t see any. did you?” you respond back causing him to chuckle softly.

“oooh okay, i see how it is,” he laughs and turn to look at you, “then that’s a shame, cause i saw a beautiful girl in there and wanted to ask her what her name was,” he says, making you blush and look away.

“it’s-“ ”hey!” you here your friends voice calling you while banging on the glass door, signaling you over to her immediately.

you ran to her without saying goodbye to the man with you and started whining to her, complaining to her how she chose the wrong time to call you over:( she smiled and informed you that your boss was losing her patience and needed the paperwork now, causing you to bolt into your boss's office.

the third time, you’re on your way back home after an exhausting day at work. you’re on your last life it feels like until right before the doors close someone else gets on. the same pretty coworker that you saw just a few hours ago. he sees you and sits down right infront of you with a small laugh.

you can’t help but stare at him from time to time, and whenever you do, you find that he’s already doing the same to you, but you never find the courage to start a conversation.

though the ride is long, it doesn’t feel as long with him making silly faces at you whenever you lift your head to look at him. he sticks his tongue out and puffs up his cheeks to make you laugh.

your stop unfortunately arrives and you overthink, deciding that you would talk to him. as you’re about to step out though, you feel timid tap on your shoulder and turn to see him.

he’s much more beautiful up close with his chocolate brown eyes that shine, his hair framing his face perfectly, and features that most could only dream of. he pauses for a couple seconds, seemingly forgetting why he was doing this. it’s like his body moved without his mind thinking.

he finally says, “see you tomorrow, at work i mean of course, my name is choi beomgyu,” he spits out extremely quick, voice a little shaky. and before you know it he’s walking back to his seat.

now it’s your turn to get possessed because, you catch his wrist in your hand. the man, you now know is beomgyu, turns his body towards you with a hint of joy and hope in his eyes waiting for you to speak.

you breath in and speak, “ im yn. i’ll see you tomorrow then,” you respond while still holding onto his wrist.

he moves his hand up to meet yours and grasps it slightly in his before letting go.

“promise you’ll get home safely, yn,” the way he said your name sent heat straight to your cheeks and a smile to your lips.

with that you both let go, you exiting the train trying to hold back , and failing, the smile that was so wide it hurt your cheeks.

beomgyu sitting back down and looking at the ground with a lovesick smile on his lips and a dreamy sigh thinking about how pretty you were.

both of you couldn’t wait for what tomorrow held.

a/n: caught myself writing my own name a few times...

also i wrote this while listening to beautiful stranger by laufey :)

#meywrites;) #soft hours: beomie #txt soft hours #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff