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pucksandpower · 6 months

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Changing Lanes

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc always thought he would spend the rest of his career racing in red. But you make him see that he deserves better than false promises and unrequited love

“Took you long enough,” you say, lounging casually on the small leather couch in Charles’ driver’s room, your fingertips tracing intricate patterns on the cushion beside you.

Charles raises an eyebrow, letting out a dry laugh as he kicks off his shoes. “Every single time I see you, Y/N, you always have something to say.”

You linger on him. “Is it my fault you had to chat with the entire paddock before coming here?”

He smirks, crossing the room. “It’s called being polite. Something you could learn from.”

“Polite?” You scoff, feigning innocence. “Oh, like how Ferrari celebrated that P3 like it was a win? That kind of polite?”

Charles stiffens but he keeps his cool. “We take what we can get.”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing. “Starting on pole and settling for P3? Charles, you deserve better.”

“I know,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze. “But this is racing. Sometimes it just doesn’t go your way.”

You lean in closer, your voice dropping an octave. “It could, though. If you were with a team that actually valued you, that gave you a car worthy of your talent.”

He looks up, meeting your gaze with a challenge. “You mean Red Bull?”

A coy smile plays on your lips. “It’s not a secret that Dad wants you. And imagine … you, in a competitive car, and me, right by your side as your race engineer.”

Charles’ eyes dart to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Tempting,” he murmurs, leaning in just a fraction closer. “But is this for the team or for you?”

“Can’t it be both?” You whisper back.

His breath hitches and he pulls back slightly. “This isn’t just about racing, is it?”

You hesitate. “I see how they treat you. How they let you down time and time again. But with us ... with me ... it would be different.”

He looks conflicted. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” You press. “With Red Bull, you’d have support, a competitive car, and … me.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not just about what happens on track. It’s about the politics, the contracts, the media ... it’s all complicated.”

“You make it sound like an impossible puzzle,” you say, tracing circles on his wrist. You gaze locks with his, trying to convey everything you feel.

“It might be.”

You lean in, lips just inches from his. “Then let’s solve it together.”

He hesitates, searching your eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

You smirk, confidence oozing from every pore. “Isn’t that what racing’s all about?”

Charles chuckles softly, the tension in the room slowly melting away. “You always have an answer for everything.”

“It’s the Horner in me,” you retort with a smug smile. “Besides, aren’t you tired of being just another pawn in Ferrari’s game?”

“It’s not easy. To just switch teams, to give up on something you’ve worked for your entire life.”

You reach up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Who says you’re giving up? You’d be making a choice. A choice to be somewhere you’re valued. Somewhere you have a real shot at the championship. With people who truly care about you and actions that reflect that.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just about the racing. There are so many other factors.”

“Like what?”

He opens his eyes, meeting yours. “Like us.”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“If I come to Red Bull … if I work with you … it changes everything. Our relationship. Our dynamic. Everything.”

You take a moment, absorbing his words. “We can handle it. We’re strong enough.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish I had your confidence.”

You cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. “You have me. Together, we can face anything.”

Charles looks at you for a long moment, his emotions raw and exposed. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll think about it. But whatever I decide … know that it’s not just about racing. I refuse to give you up.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “Never settle for less than you deserve.”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. “Same goes for you, Y/N Horner.”

***

“I still can’t believe they forgot to remove the radiator blank,” you murmur, your fingers softly tracing patterns on Charles’ bare chest as he lies next to you in his São Paulo hotel. The dim light from the bedside lamp paints soft shadows on his face, emphasizing the frustration in his eyes.

Charles sighs heavily, turning his head to look at you. “Neither can I. Another race, another issue. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.”

You lean in closer, lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t deserve this, Charles. You’re better than this. Better than them.”

He chuckles humorlessly, eyes closing. “It seems like it’s one thing after another.”

“Come to Red Bull,” you whisper, fingertips dancing down his arm. “You know it’s the right move.”

He opens his eyes, looking deep into yours. “Y/N, we talked about this.”

You press a gentle kiss on his jaw, speaking against his skin. “Hear me out. If McLaren overtakes Ferrari in the Constructors’ standings, you can activate your exit clause. You could leave them, Charles.”

Charles swallows hard, feeling the warmth of your breath on his neck. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll buy you out,” you say confidently, trailing kisses down his collarbone. “Dad’s already spoken about it. We want you. I want you.”

Charles’ breath catches as your hands explore his torso but he tries to focus. “Equal status with Max?”

“Of course,” you assure him, pressing your body flush against his. “You and Max, racing side by side. Just think of the possibilities.”

He groans, both from your touch and the tempting offer. “A car designed by Adrian Newey ...”

You nod, “With plenty of oversteer, just how you like it. No more one-sided compromises.”

He laughs softly. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

You smirk, lips hovering over his. “Always. And instead of Xavi, you’d hear my voice on the other end of the radio, guiding you, supporting you.”

Charles captures your lips with his, deepening the kiss before pulling back. “You’re making it very hard to think.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper with a playful grin, your hands tugging at his waistband.

He bites his lip, trying to resist your charms. “But Y/N ... it’s not just about the racing. It’s ... it’s us. What happens to us?”

You cup his cheek, gazing deep into his eyes. “We fight together, we win together. Every podium, every championship, we celebrate together.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “You make it sound so perfect.”

“It can be,” you promise, pressing soft kisses on his eyelids. “With Red Bull, you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And me.”

Charles smiles, caressing your cheek. “You’re very persuasive, you know?”

You grin. “It’s one of my many talents.”

He chuckles, capturing your lips once more. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll still be by your side.”

He smiles, pulling you closer. “I know. And that’s what makes this decision so hard.”

***

“Absolutely unbelievable,” your father mutters, watching the replay of Ferrari’s disastrous double stack. “You would think they’ve never done a pit stop before.”

You nod, equally shocked. But your attention shifts as the familiar figure of your favorite Monegasque storms into the Red Bull garage, his helmet still on and visor obscuring his face. You can feel the fury emanating from him.

“Charles?” You question hesitantly.

He doesn’t respond to you but instead turns to your father, “Christian, can we talk? Now. Somewhere private.”

Christian looks taken aback by the intensity in Charles’ voice but nods. “Of course.”

Charles glances at you. “You too, Y/N. Please.”

You follow, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. Once inside the small office, Charles finally removes his helmet, revealing eyes red from restrained tears. He takes a moment, collecting himself before he speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Charles exhales. “Every single time I think they’ve hit rock bottom, they find a new low. Today was the last straw.”

You approach him, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Charles, I’m so sorry.”

Your father is equally sympathetic. “That was hard to watch. I can’t even imagine what it felt like.”

Charles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just today. It’s everything. I gave them everything. I wanted to win with them. For my father. For Jules.”

You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “They would be so incredibly proud of you. No matter what.”

He blinks back tears, voice strained. “I wanted to drive that red car to the top for them. But I can’t keep sacrificing myself for a team that clearly does not value me in return.”

Your father speaks up, “Charles, if you’re thinking of a change ... Red Bull is ready to welcome you with open arms.”

Charles looks up, locking eyes with him. “I know. And as much as Ferrari has been my dream, my home, I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with a team that values me. I want to join Red Bull.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration but the look in his eyes tells you that he’s made up his mind. “Charles,” you whisper, stepping closer. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s hard,” he admits. “But this is where my heart is telling me to go.”

Your father gives the two of you a moment, leaving the office to give you privacy.

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you close. “I never imagined leaving Ferrari. But after everything, I know it’s the right decision.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your forehead against his. “They will be so proud of you, Charles. No matter what colors you wear or what car you drive.”

He smiles weakly. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “This is a big step. I don’t want you to regret anything. Are you still sure?”

He nods, determination in his gaze. “More than I’ve ever been.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Then welcome to Red Bull.”

***

“I have to tell Ferrari,” Charles straightens, determination evident in his eyes. “I just need to get it over with. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.“

Charles grabs your hand, pulling you towards his driver’s room. “Wait here,” he says, going in and returning moments later with his Ferrari jacket. He places it over your Red Bull team polo, attempting to keep your allegiance concealed for now. You both then proceed to the debrief room where the Ferrari team is waiting.

Fred Vasseur begins his speech the moment you both enter, “This wasn’t how we wanted to end the year but looking ahead to next season—”

Charles cuts him off, “Actually, there won’t be a next season. Not for me.”

The room falls into a tense silence, all eyes on the driver who has given them his heart and soul.

“What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath, “I’ve decided to leave Ferrari.”

Gasps fill the room. Fred’s eyes land on you, finally noticing the Red Bull logo peeking out from under the jacket you’re borrowing. “And you bring her, of all people, here to tell us this?”

Charles squares his shoulders. “Y/N is here because I asked her to be. This decision is mine and mine alone.”

Xavi stands up, “After everything we’ve done for you! This is how you repay us?”

You can’t hold back any longer. “Everything you’ve done? You mean the countless strategy mistakes, the endless car issues, the complete lack of support?”

Another team member cuts in, “This is not your place, Y/N!”

“It is today,” you retort. “I’m here to support my new driver.”

Charles’ voice shakes but he speaks with conviction, “I gave everything for this team. I bled Ferrari red. But I can’t keep doing this. Not when it’s clear that my effort and commitment is not matched in return.”

Fred’s voice softens. “Charles, we’ve had our challenges but we can overcome them together.”

Charles shakes his head, tears threatening to spill. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m joining Red Bull. My manager will send over the necessary legal paperwork as soon as possible.”

The room is filled with murmurs, disbelief evident on every face. Charles takes one last look around, his eyes filled with pain, and turns to leave.

You follow closely, feeling the weight of every step as you exit the debrief room.

The second you’re around the corner, Charles breaks down. He rests his forehead against the wall, tears rolling down his face silently. “I didn’t ... I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

You pull him close and try to find the right words. “It was never going to be easy. But you did what you had to. For yourself. For your future.”

He turns to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I just wanted to make them proud.”

You cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb. “They would be proud of you. Not for the badge you wear or the car you drive but for the man you’ve become.”

Charles takes a shaky breath, pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you stand there for a moment, finding solace in each other’s presence.

When he finally pulls away, he manages a weak smile. “Thank you. For standing by me.”

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

***

Charles stands in front of the massive two-story trophy wall at the Red Bull Racing factory in Milton Keynes, eyes wide with wonder. “Ferrari would never do something so ... gaudy.”

You smirk, sidling up next to him. “And yet, you love it.”

“I do,” he laughs. “It’s … different.”

You lean in, whispering conspiratorially, “Well, Ferrari hasn’t had all that much to exhibit in the last two decades. Not for lack of trying from the drivers, of course.”

He playfully nudges you with his elbow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Cheeky.”

The two of you walk further into the factory. “So,” Charles draws out, “I was wondering if you could recommend a good real estate agent in the area.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would you need an agent when I have a perfectly good apartment we can share?”

“Really? Are you sure? I just … I wasn’t sure if you would want that and I don’t want to pressure you.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Of course I do, Charles. It’s not even a question.”

He smiles, the weight of the decision to move seeming a little lighter now. “Thank you.”

You wink, taking his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

As you guide him through the factory, he’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. “This place is incredible,” he murmurs, running a hand along a piece of machinery.

You grin, pulling him towards the simulator room. “Wait until you see this.”

He steps inside, eyes immediately drawn to the impressive simulator setup. “Wow.”

You gesture for him to sit down, watching as he takes a seat, adjusting the settings. “Ready for your first sim run in the RB20?”

He nods eagerly, “Let’s do it.”

As he starts the simulation, you watch closely, monitoring the data and providing feedback. The two of you work seamlessly together, the connection between race engineer and driver already forming and growing.

After several runs, Charles steps out of the simulator, a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! The car feels amazing.”

You smile. “I’m glad you think so. The team has put a lot of work into it.”

He pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. “I can’t wait to get on track with you on the other side of the radio.”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. “Me too. We’re going to do great things together. I know it.”

He nods. “I know we will too.”

***

“I have to admit,” Charles says, eyes scanning the paddock, “I’m thankful that Mercedes and McLaren are between our motorhome and Ferrari’s. Makes things less ... awkward.”

You glance towards the distant red of the mobile Ferrari building, understanding the sentiment. “Must be weird being so close and yet so far.”

He nods, a hint of melancholy in his gaze as he looks at the place he called home for so long. “It’s bittersweet.”

Pulling him from his thoughts, you nudge him playfully. “Come on, Mr. Pole-Sitter. We have a race to prep for.”

Charles smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. “Always so professional, Miss Horner.”

You grin. “Only when it counts.”

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage is electric. Mechanics and engineers hustle around, getting everything ready. The RB20 sits gleaming, waiting for its moment to shine.

Charles adjusts his gloves, taking a deep breath. “Feels different,” he admits, looking at you. “Being here, in this car, with this team. But a good kind of different.”

You lean in, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this. It’s just another race.”

He smiles. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one in the hot seat.”

“True, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just listen to my voice and trust me.”

“I always do.”

As he gets into the car, you lean in closer to his helmet, your lips touching it’s hard shell. “And Charles? Stay safe out there.”

He looks at you and winks. “I’ll come back to you.”

The race begins with a burst of energy. Charles takes off from pole, holding his position as the field jockeys for placement behind him.

“Good start,” you say through the radio, your voice calm and composed. “Keep it steady.”

“Copy.”

The race is intense, with Charles and Max battling for the lead, their cars dancing on the edge of perfection. The radio chatter between the two of you flows naturally, filled with technical details, strategy adjustments, and the occasional personal quip.

“Feeling the heat from Max?” You tease after a particularly close call between the two Red Bulls.

Charles laughs breathlessly. “Just keeping things interesting for the fans.”

The race continues at a blistering pace, with Charles and Max pushing each other to the limit. But through it all, Charles remains in the lead, with you guiding him from the pit wall.

“Final lap,” you inform. “Bring it home.”

He nods, pushing the car to its limit. The cheers of the crowd grow louder as he crosses the finish line, securing his first victory with Red Bull.

“Amazing job, Charles! I knew you could do it!”

He lets out a whoop of joy. “Yes! Thank you, team. Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without you all.”

The two of you celebrate the victory, and as the rose water sprays and the cheers of the crowd fill the air, you know that this is just the beginning of an incredible journey together.

***

“You’re sure about the medium tyres, Y/N?” Charles asks nervously as he looks at the other cars lining up. “Everyone else is starting on softs.”

You nod confidently, tapping the race strategy on your clipboard. “Yes. The upside of using the mediums is it gives us flexibility. We can extend our first stint if needed, especially with possible rain on the forecast. While everyone else has to pit early for hards and then again for inters when the rain starts, we’ll only have to pit once. Trust me.”

He inhales deeply, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside. “I do trust you. It’s just ... Ferrari ... the strategies there ...”

“I know,” you interrupt softly, understanding the trauma and distrust years with Ferrari had instilled in him. “But this isn’t Ferrari. It’s Red Bull and we work differently. I’ve got your back.”

“Alright,” he looks into your eyes, finding assurance and conviction there, “let’s do this.”

The race begins, and Charles holds his ground well on the medium tyres, though the drivers running softs initially show quicker pace. But as predicted, the clouds soon darken and the threat of rain becomes increasingly evident.

“Stay focused,” you guide through the radio. “Remember the plan.”

He pushes on, expertly handling the streets of Monaco. The cars around him begin to lose grip and one by one they dive into the pits for hard tyres.

Charles keeps lapping. He moves up the order.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage. “Stick to the plan. We’re right on schedule.”

However, as the first raindrops begin to fall, panic sets in among the other teams on the grid. Those who just pitted for hard tyres are forced to pit again for intermediate tyres, losing precious time.

“Now,” you command, “Box this lap.”

He follows your instruction, driving into the pits, and with a flawless stop by his Red Bull crew, re-emerges in the lead.

The rain continues but Charles navigates the treacherous streets of Monaco expertly, maintaining his lead. When the chequered flag waves, it’s Charles who crosses the line first and finally claims victory at his home Grand Prix.

Tears of joy and relief pour from Charles’ eyes as he takes in the moment. “Thank you,” he says over the radio, voice choked with emotion. “I can’t believe it. We did it in Monaco!”

You smile, tears in your own eyes. “We did. I told you to trust me, didn’t I?”

He laughs, the sound full of pure joy. “You did. And I’m so glad I did. Thank you for everything.”

As he steps out of the car and jumps on its nose, arms spread wide, the crowd roars in approval, their prince finally crowned in his home race.

Then he rushes to the barriers and jumps into the cheering crowd of dark blue waiting for him. When his sweaty lips find yours surrounded by the celebrating Red Bull team, you take a moment to whisper a promise, “This is just the beginning. It will only get better from here.”

***

The season flies by in a blur of champagne showers. Heading into the Italian Grand Prix, Charles find himself leading the Drivers’ Championship with Max nipping at his heels.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Charles confesses, staring out at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. “This was home. I don’t know how they will react now that I’m no longer wearing red.”

You rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Many fans support the driver, not just the color he wears.”

He takes a deep breath and looks over the crowd. “The Tifosi are different. They bleed Ferrari red. I’m afraid they will see me only as a traitor.”

“You gave them your all,” you counter. “They’ve seen the struggles. They know why you left. They understand. Trust in them and in yourself.”

As the two of you make your way towards the paddock, the familiar chorus of cheers fills the air. But instead of the jeers and boos he feared, a chant begins to rise among the crowd of red: “Charles! Charles! Charles!”

Charles stops in his tracks. “They’re ... they’re cheering for me.”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. “Told you.”

He’s soon swarmed by a group of fans, all clamoring for autographs, photos, and just a moment of his time. It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi remains unbroken.

An older fan steps forward, his Ferrari cap worn with age. “You are still Il Predestinato. We wish it ended differently but we have eyes. We watched the races. We know why you left. No matter what team you drive for, you always have our hearts.”

Charles blinks back tears, deeply touched. “Grazie,” he whispers and claps the fan’s weathered hands in thanks.

Another fan, a young girl with a homemade sign that reads Once a Tifosi, Always a Tifosi, shyly approaches. “We still love you, Charles,” she says.

He kneels down to give her a gentle hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs, taking off his Red Bull cap and placing it on her head.

As the day goes on, the support from the Tifosi only grows. They cheer for him during practice, during qualifying, and every time he appears in front of the stands.

It’s clear that the bond between Charles and the Tifosi is as strong as ever.

That evening, as the two of you sit in the garage looking over data, Charles reflects on his day. “I was so afraid,” he admits. “Afraid of being rejected, of losing their love. But today ... today was incredible.”

You close the analytics. “The Tifosi love you. Not because of the car you drive or the colors you wear but because of who you are. Just like I do.”

He nods slowly. “It’s overwhelming. Monza has always been special to me. To feel this level of love and support ... it’s more than I ever expected.”

You lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “They see your passion. They see how much you give on and off the track. Anyone who does not love and respect you for that needs to reconsider.”

He exhales slowly, “I just ... I wanted to make them proud, to win for them in red and bring glory back to Maranello. But knowing they still support me no matter what ... it means everything.”

You look up into his eyes. “And they always will. Because they know you always gave and will continue to give your best. They love you because they are loved in return.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. “For always being my rock, especially in moments like these.”

“Now let’s go out there tomorrow and win.”

***

“Vegas, baby!” Charles shouts, swinging an arm around your shoulders, both of you holding champagne glasses that have been refilled one too many times.

You giggle, distinctly feeling all of the alcohol you’ve consumed. “We won! We did it!”

Charles laughs, pulling you closer. “We did! And do you know what people do when they’re in love and win in Vegas?”

You think about it for a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. “Get ... married?”

Charles nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! Y/N Horner, will you marry me tonight?”

You don’t hesitate, “Hell yes!”

The two of you, in your drunken stupor, begin your mission to find a wedding chapel. However, before you can get very far, Max spots you and quickly catches on to what you’re planning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max exclaims, grabbing Charles by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going with Y/N?”

Charles replies with a sloppy grin, “To make her Mrs. Leclerc!”

Max bursts into laughter, trying to play the voice of reason. “Mate, as much fun as that sounds, I think you might want to sleep on that idea.”

But you’re not having it. “No, Max! We’re in love and it’s Vegas. We’re doing it!”

Before the conversation can escalate further, your father joins the fray, looking both amused and concerned. “What on earth is going on here?”

Max chuckles, “Your daughter and Charles here have some ... ambitious plans for the evening.”

You pout and stumble slightly, “Daddy, we want to get married! Right now!”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Married? Tonight? Seriously?”

Charles nods with absolute seriousness, though his precarious swaying contradicts his tone. “Christian, I love your daughter. And we won. In Vegas. So ... wedding?”

Your father places a firm hand on his driver’s shoulder. “Listen, Charles, I have no doubt about your feelings for Y/N. But my baby girl deserves the world. When and if you ever decide to propose, I expect you to get down on one knee, stone-cold sober, and ask her properly.”

Charles blinks, processing the words. “But ... Vegas?”

You laugh and go to hug your father, almost falling over in the process. “He’s right. Let’s just enjoy tonight. And if we still feel like getting married in the morning, we can discuss it then.”

Max smirks, “Trust me, you’ll thank us in the morning. If you can even remember this conversation, that is.”

***

“Charles,” you begin, your voice echoing in his helmet, “The team has made the call. You and Max are free to race. No team orders.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Understood. May the best man win.”

The tension in the garage skyrockets as soon as the lights go out. It’s evident that this is going to be an epic battle from the very first turn. Max and Charles swap places multiple times, pushing their cars to the very edge of their limits.

“Breathe,” you remind him calmly as the laps go by, “Don’t loose sight of the race as a whole. There’s a championship at stake.”

The entire race is a blur of overtakes, pit strategies, and nail-biting moments. The two Red Bull cars battle wheel-to-wheel lap after lap. One side of the garage against the other.

Coming into the final laps, Charles is right on Max’s tail — the championship hanging in the balance between them.

You know there’s not much you can do to guide him anymore … it’s all up to Charles.

“Last lap,” you try to sound composed despite the pounding of your heart. “You can do this.”

The cheers and gasps of the crowd are deafening as Charles makes his move, taking the inside line and overtaking Max on the penultimate turn.

“Push now! Just a few more corners.”

As Charles crosses the finish line, the enormity of the moment crashes over both of you.

“Charles Leclerc,” you scream over the radio as tears stream down your face, “you are the World Champion!”

“Yeeeesssss! Yes! Yes! I ... I can’t believe it. This is ... thank you, everyone. To the entire Red Bull team, you’ve given me the chance to chase and achieve my dreams. To my friends, my family, to every single person who’s been by my side, believed in me, and supported me … thank you. And Y/N, you’ve been my rock and my oxygen. Without you, this wouldn’t have been possible. Thank you! Thank you. Thank you so much!”

***

“Whew! That was a lot of rose water!” Charles laughs, wiping the bubbly liquid from his eyes.

You chuckle and try to wring out your hair. “You didn’t have to drench me, you know!”

Charles grins cheekily. “It’s a special occasion, after all. Both of us on this podium? It’s a dream!”

Then suddenly, he turns serious and signals to his brother in the crowd below, who throws him a small leather box. Charles catches it and promptly lowers himself down on one knee in front of you, making the crowd fall into a stunned silence.

“I tried this in Vegas,” he starts with a laugh, “But I might have been too drunk and missed a few pretty important steps.”

Charles takes a deep breath and his eyes lock onto yours, saying everything that words would never be sufficient to. “Y/N, being on this podium with you, winning the World Championship, it’s the pinnacle of my career. But what we have ... it’s the pinnacle of my life. I can’t imagine going on this journey with anyone else, facing the highs, the lows, the in-betweens. Will you marry me?”

Tears flow steadily down your cheeks and you nod with a fervor that would make bobbleheads jealous, “Yes! There’s no one else I’d want to spend forever with.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, the deafening roar echoing around the Yas Marina Circuit. Max gives a loud whistle, his face lit up with a big grin next to you on the podium stage.

Charles rises to his feet and pulls you close, attacking your lips as the crowd goes wild.

“Promise me we won’t head to a chapel right after this race?” You joke, sniffling and giggling at the same time.

Charles laughs, looking slightly sheepish. “I promise, mainly because I’m too young to die and your father would definitely kill me if I even thought about pulling the stunt we tried in Vegas again. You deserve a fairytale wedding.”

You press your face against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat as fireworks explode overhead. “All I need for my fairytale is you.”

4K notes · View notes

worldlxvlys · 2 months

Note

ANNA. GIRL. I HAVE THE BEST IDEA EVER.

ok, so I was just listening to one of the girls by the Weeknd and I need the filthiest, most pantie soaking, mouth watering, sheet gripping smut about chris based off that song. only if you want though LMAO. also probably really unpopular opinion but chris is most DEFINITELY the dominant one during sex. anyway love you pretty girl!!

one of the girls

fwb! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttttt, semi-public sex, roughhhh sex, choking, slapping, spitting, degradation, dumbification, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, squirting, fingering, overstimulation, humiliation, recording, cursing

a/n: have your holy water on standby y’all

lock me up and throw away the key

he knows how to get the best of me

chris and i’s friendship was anything but normal. to some, it may even be perceived as toxic.

but me? i loved it.

i trusted him enough to do whatever he wanted to me, no matter how extreme.

tell nobody i control you

i broke you just to own you

they can’t tell that i love you

‘cause you’re loyal, baby

he was possessive, but it was hot. we weren’t actually together, but by the way he acted when other guys approached me, you would think we were.

he didn’t want to see me with anyone other than him, and i felt the exact same.

nobody else made me feel the way he did, anyway.

nobody else understood how to test my limits without going overboard.

i love when you’re submissive

love it when i break skin

you feel pain without flinching

i allow him to do whatever he wants to, and in return he he gives me a perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

he constantly pushes me to my limits, it’s almost gratifying to know that i can handle more than i think.

though my masochistic ways can be alarming to some, chris understands. he never judges or questions the things that bring me pleasure.

all it takes is a simple, “i need a distraction” and he has me pushed up against the door, his hand wrapped around my neck.

his fingers wrap around my throat, constricting my airway enough to stop my breathing.

he waits until i look like i’m about to pass out to loosen his grip.

we don’t gotta be in love, no

i don’t gotta be the one, no

i just wanna be one of your girls tonight

it doesn’t matter who he fucked yesterday, or who he’s seeing tomorrow. all that matters is right now.

and right now, we’re at a party, where he has me bent over a chair on the host’s back porch.

“you forget who the fuck you belong to? letting him undress you with his eyes like that?” he struck my ass with the palm of his hand over and over, making me cry out.

“how do you think he’d feel knowing that i’m fucking you on his porch?” he asked as he thrusted into me roughly, pushing my hips into the wooden chair harshly with every movement.

i moaned uncontrollably, gripping onto the chair for dear life as he pounded into me.

deciding to play with him, i looked back at him and spoke, “bet he could fuck me better than you ever will”

we both knew it wasn’t true, but chris stopped his movements immediately, making me whine out.

“think we should go find him? let him watch me fuck your brains out?” he asked as he pulled me to stand up.

“no, chris! please, just-” he cut me off by smacking my ass.

suddenly, he spotted a camera that was aimed at a short table in the middle of the porch.

“hmm, looks like he keeps his home secure, baby. you think he gets alerts when there’s movement on his porch?” chris raised his eyebrows at me, pushing me to the table that the camera was aimed at.

“he’s gonna watch this back and see you get fucked like the dirty little cockwhore you are" he rasped into my ear as he placed me onto the low table on my hands and knees.

he held my arms behind my back as he began to fuck me from behind again.

a cool breeze filled the air, making my nipples hard and sending a shiver down my spine.

he gripped my jaw harshly, turning my face to look at him, “open” he spoke.

when i opened my mouth, he gathered his saliva in his mouth before spitting into mine.

i immediately swallowed, making him slap my cheek lightly.

“now look at the camera” he said as he gripped my jaw, angling it so i was looking straight into the camera.

he pushed my body down, holding my shoulder down as his cock continued to stretch out my tight walls.

“you better make a fucking mess all over this table, make sure he knows how good i made you feel” his mouth found its way to my neck, biting at the skin roughly.

“f-fuck, chris” i moaned as his fingers brushed my hard nipples, before squeezing them firmly.

he suddenly grabbed my throat with his hand, pulling me closer to him.

my eyes rolled into the back of my head at the feeling of his hand squeezing around my throat.

he circled my clit with his free hand, and my head fell back onto his shoulder in response.

“such a fucking slut, you love being fucked out here in the open, huh?”

“good, good, so fucking good, holy shit” all i could do was chant those words, not being able to concentrate on chris’s words.

“look at you, going dumb for my cock” he spoke as he continued to fuck his hips into mine.

i mumbled a string of incoherent curses in response, grabbing his bicep as i felt my orgasm approaching.

“you gonna cum?” he asked as he felt me clench around him.

“yes, yes, yes, yes” i chanted as my eyes rolled back and i released on his cock.

“fuck, gonna fill this pretty pussy up” he groaned before he did exactly that, shooting his seed deep inside of my walls.

he pulled out, quickly replacing his dick with two fingers.

“chris!” i moaned in surprise as he fucked his fingers into me.

“wanna see you squirt all over this fucking table” he growled into my ear.

his fingers moved so quickly inside of me, i could barely keep up.

i reached down to move his hand, but he wasn’t having it.

he pushed me forward, pressing my face into the table.

“it feel good? you like being fingered out here where anyone could see?” he asked as he added another finger.

“yes, yes, oh my god” i cried out as i felt another orgasm coming.

“yeah? then fucking take it” he said.

“chris! i’m cumming!” i yelled as my body shook violently on the table.

“oh my god” i yelled as my juices shot out of me.

“i know you have more, ma. give it to me”

he continued to move his fingers inside of me, watching as the liquid continued to pour out of me, making me scream.

“fuck” i breathed out when his fingers stopped , allowing me to catch my breath.

chris helped me off of the table, helping me to fix my dress so i was covered again before fixing himself up.

he left for a second, coming back with paper towels to clean up our mess.

“hey, you good to get home by yourself? i got something to do” he said, looking down at his phone.

more like someone to do.

“yeah, go. have fun”

with that, he kissed my cheek and left.

we don’t gotta be in love, no

i don’t gotta be the one, no

i just wanna be one of your girls tonight

💋💋💋💋

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

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porcelana-r0ta · 9 months

Text

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was.

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM:

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin.

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia.

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option.

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response.

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house.

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death.

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building.

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?”

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.”

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl.

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house.

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight.

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!”

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.”

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.”

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms.

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly.

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs.

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead.

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”

“What did I do?”

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?”

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!”

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand.

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.”

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?”

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.”

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.”

Damn, Jason curses to himself.

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?”

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.”

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.”

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!”

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.”

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.

Jazz doesn’t dispute it.

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t.

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.”

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!”

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!”

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again.

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.”

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab.

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy.

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green.

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell.

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?”

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings.

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral.

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it.

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery.

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton.

“Why are the fucking Bats here?”

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?”

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?”

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.”

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?”

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls.

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating.

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.”

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks.

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.”

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks.

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.”

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.”

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it.

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.”

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.”

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully.

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X:

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her.

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #the joker #johnny 13 #severely ooc

3K notes · View notes

babydollmarauders · 24 days

Text

PHASES — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which luke is pining for the girl he knows he’s destined to be with

notes: 4.3k words. this is a new style of writing for me and i truthfully don’t know about it but it felt right for this fic.

Luke Hughes knows a lot of things.

he knows hockey. he knows history. and he knows that in this moment, drunk on cheap beer and lip locked with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, she and he are destined to be together.

but life and love are never simple. drunken hookups between best friends don’t just automatically make them a couple. and no matter how badly he wants to scream that she should be with him, he knows he has to wait it out; give her time to come to the same realization that he did two years ago.

her back digs into the armrest of the battered couch, her legs draped across Luke’s own as his fingertips grip her upper thigh. their faces are drawn together, her hands tangled beautifully in his curls, pulling him closer toward her vodka soaked lips.

“Lukey,” his name rolls off her tongue like a whispered prayer, causing a singular beat to skip in his heart.

“what do you need, doll?”

“you.”

and her singular word is the driving force that brings Luke to his feet, her hand laced with his as he leads her to his bedroom. the people in his apartment cast away from his mind, only one person occupying that space.

her.

surely, Jack can handle the party that he threw, no one would miss Luke.

and that thought is what leads them to his room, their bodies pressed together in mere minutes. the next few hours spent tangled between cotton sheets. his feverish touch making her body shake, and her soft sounds causing an intense sensation of need within him.

hot breath mingles, their lips rarely straying from each others. sweat coated skin sticking together as they christen his bed for the umpteenth time. neither mind clear, they find solace and pleasure with her legs wrapped around his waist and his sloppy thrusts bringing them to the highest points.

and when they call it a night, Luke’s hand slamming the car door shut after she falls into the backseat of an uber, he falls back into the same spot he started the night.

waiting for fate to bring her home to him for the final time.

***

the restaurant feels suffocating, her dress itchy, causing her to wiggle uncomfortably in her chair.

her date doesn’t even seem to notice, rambling on once more about how cool it is that she works for the New Jersey Devils.

“i mean, you must get to be around the players all the time, right? how did you even get that job?” what was this one’s name? Carter? Carson? it started with a C, right?

“i went to University of Michigan. graduated a year early with a degree in sport management, and after working with the hockey team there, i was able to secure a spot working for the Devils.” she smiles, a weak timid thing that barely even reaches her cheeks, “but yeah, i do spend a lot of time around the players. kinda my job to get content of them, ya know?”

maybe-Carter chuckles, nodding his head, “so are you like, friends with any of them?”

‘oh, here we go’ she thinks.

“i went to school with Luke Hughes, he’s kind of my best friend.” it was an instinct really, an involuntary reaction; for a smile to creep across her lips when she talks about Luke, “but i can’t really say much about him or the guys, they’re people too and they deserve their privacy.”

“right, totally respect that,” he nods, his lips falling into a tight line, and she can’t help but notice that they aren’t as pillowy as Luke’s.

his lips don’t nearly look as comforting to kiss. and his curls; they don’t… curl the way Luke’s do. rather he has a head of tighter curls, unlike Luke’s unruly mess of loose curls and waves mingling together. his eyes aren’t the right color either, erring on the side of a blue closer to Jack’s; which makes a shiver run down her spine, discomfort settling within her.

“are you cold?” he asks, catching sight of the goosebumps that spread across her skin. he huffs a condescendingly toned laugh before continuing, “maybe you should’ve brought a jacket, restaurants run cold.”

that was where she drew the line. with his obnoxious attitude combined with his interest, which only peaked when discussing her job, y/n was surprised she lasted as long as she did.

and if the fact that he wasn’t similar enough to her best friend played a small part in her leaving? well, could she really be blamed?

after all, it was Luke’s fault.

it was Luke who made the first move his freshman year of college, both of them tipsy on drinks made by Dylan and his heavy hand with rum. it was Luke who made the sophomore girl fall for him two years ago. it was Luke who drunkenly tells her he loves her as he buries himself inside of her, knowing exactly what to do to tip her over the edge. and it was Luke who has her going on at least five dates a month, trying to force the Devils rookie out of her heart.

or at least, she blames it on Luke; because she couldn’t allow herself to admit that she fell in love with him of her own accord. she can’t allow herself to confess how quickly their drunken hookups turned into something more for her. and she certainly can’t dwell on the fact that she hasn’t put a stop to them. how could she? those are the only moments that she can let herself believe, even for a moment, that she could be his.

because despite how badly she wanted it, she could never be Luke’s. not in the way she wants to be. no matter how hard she tries, she can never find the words to express how much he means to her. how much she loves him.

Luke laid on the couch, the springs digging into his back uncomfortably.

“dude, we really need a new couch.” he huffs, “and why am i laying like this? i don’t think people actually lay down in therapy outside of tv shows.”

“shut up, i’m taking notes.” Luke’s eyes drift to his older brother, who occupies the space of the living room chair.

“notes on what? i haven’t even said anything!”

“you don’t need to. i’ve listened to you bitch and moan about y/n for two years, i’m writing what i can remember.” Jack explains, his brows furrowed in focus as his pen scribbles messily across the notepad on his lap.

“why did i let you talk me into this?” Luke rolls his eyes at his brothers antics.

“because you’re pussy-whipped and you’re playing like shit.” Jack looks up from the notepad, straightening his posture and settling his focus on Luke.

“is that a medical diagnosis?” Luke jokes, his brow raising as he chuckles.

“no, that’s brotherly criticism. you get that for free, courtesy of the nine months we each spent in mom’s womb.” Luke cringes at his brothers words, shaking his head.

“don’t talk about mom’s womb.”

“just speak, dude. what’s going on in that curly head of yours?”

Luke sighs, his eyes drifting towards the ceiling. his hands fiddle with the cellphone that lays on his stomach, impatiently waiting for the text that he knows will come through.

it’s 10pm on an off day, he knows she’s got a date tonight. he also knows how her date will end; soon enough she’ll be texting him a long paragraph about how men suck and asking him to remind her why she can’t become a nun.

“well, i told you, i know she and i are meant to be together. i can feel it.” Luke starts, quickly cut off by the familiar grating voice he’s known his entire life.

“yeah, yeah, you’re a simp. move on.”

“has anyone ever told you that you’d make a horrible therapist?” Luke questions, head turning once more toward his brother.

“i can’t say anyone has, no.”

“yeah? well then, i’ll be the first.” he glares, “stick to hockey.”

“just keep talking, Lukey.”

“i think it’s getting harder to wait for her.” Luke confesses, and it feels like a small weight has been lifted off his chest; progress.

“so you wanna move on?” Jack asks, his pen scrawling along the paper again.

“no!” Luke huffs, sitting up on the couch to turn towards his brother, who quickly strikes out whatever he just wrote down, “i’m just saying that- that this whole waiting game is fucking with my head. Phil said i had to wait it out. he told me not to pressure her. practice my patience and let her come to the realization on her own.

“but, what if it goes on too long? she’s always going on dates, what if she meets someone else? what if it takes her ten years to realize what i realized like a month after we met?! what if she gets married before she realizes?”

“too many ‘what if’s’, dude. you’re hurting my brain.” Jack groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Luke, already in an emotional spiral, rolls his eyes, “what brain?”

“hey! i’m trying to help you here! don’t insult me!” Jack stands up, notepad falling to the floor and his hands drawing to his hips as he glares at the rookie defenseman.

“well you’re not much help.”

“you want my advice? either keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.”

“i’m going to bed.” Luke grumbles, pushing past the shorter man to go to his room.

“don’t forget, no morning skate tomorrow!” Jack calls out as Luke’s door clicks shut.

as Luke strips down to his boxers, his phone lights up on his bed, vibrating amongst the cotton sheets. and as he sees her name flashing on the screen, butterflies flutter in his core, making him swallow harshly in attempt to stop them.

he doesn’t even get a word out after accepting the call, her voice filtering through the speaker, “men suck.”

“oh yeah?” Luke can’t help but laugh at the repetitive cycle, “tell me more. how do we suck?”

“you just do, okay?” her tone is biting before she takes a sobering breath, ��all he wanted to talk about was the team. i could practically see the walls shut down around him once i told him i couldn’t dish out the hot goss on players.”

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he’s not sorry. not even a little.

“remind me why i can’t be a nun?” her voice is distant as she takes the phone away from her ear so that she can unlock her apartment door.

“no tiktok and no sex.” Luke echoes for what feels like the hundredth time.

“right.” she kicks off her shoes, bumping the door shut behind her as her cat darts around between her legs, rubbing against her nylon tights, “you ready for the game tomorrow?”

“yeah.” no.

“good. i’m gonna go eat my weight in ice cream and scroll tiktok. goodnight, Lukey. thanks for the reminder and for listening to me rant.”

“any time. goodnight.”

as Luke lays in bed, he falls asleep with Jack’s advice echoing in his head.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

meanwhile, y/n slumps on her sofa, a pint of ben & jerry’s in her hand as she looks down at the little ball of black fur that’s taken up residence by her feet.

“have you ever been in love, Sir Nightingale?”

the cat blinks back at her, patiently waiting for her attention. which comes in the form of her fingernails scratching lazily under his chin.

“i have.” she continues the one sided conversation, “it fucking sucks. never fall in love.”

***

the game was an absolute shit show.

Luke had taken a shoddy penalty in the first period; for delay of game, out of all things. which lead to a power play goal by the opposing team and leaving the Devils down by two.

it was only about five minutes later that Luke got an assist on a goal of Jack’s, but ultimately, the game still ended six to two, not in the Devils favor. not only did the team get yelled at for their lack of adequate effort, but Luke was singled out for at least two turned over pucks, which lead to opposing team goals.

and to make a bad night even worse, when all was said and done and Luke was finally showered and ready to just go home and wallow in the loss, he left the locker room to find y/n chatting with one of the equipment managers, Ben.

her hair twirled around her finger as she laughed at something Ben said, a red flush on her cheeks. Luke felt deflated, to say the least.

it was always someone else.

never him. never Luke.

he felt overlooked, and perhaps even unnoticed. it was like she never even saw him as an option, only ever the object of her desires when they were both tipsy and horny and already together.

and yet the feeling was still there. settled low within his gut, he still knew; he’s the one for her. he knows. he’s fairly certain that deep down, she knows it too.

is it his age? it’s only a year’s difference, surely it doesn’t matter, right? it was something else. it had to be, but he truly didn’t know what.

“y/n.” his voice carries through the hallway, settling in her ears and catching her attention.

turning towards him with wide doe eyes and parted lips, she smiles, “hey!”

“am i still giving you a ride home?” Luke’s expression is stony, giving nothing of his feelings away. though, he can’t help the way his eyes gravitate to the man behind her, Luke’s blank stare making the man cower just slightly.

and Luke almost felt proud of that. almost.

“actually, i think Ben and i are gonna go for some drinks. i’ll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah?”

his shoulders slump, his posture crumpling the same way his heart did in his chest.

“yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Luke barely gets two steps closer to the arena exit before her voice calls out, stopping him in his tracks. her heels click against the floor as fast as she could move, before she pops up in his vision.

“you played good. a few mistakes are normal, it’s your first full season, the most games you’ve ever played,” her voice is gentle, her eyes peering up at him softly through her wispy lashes, “i’m proud of you. don’t be too hard on yourself, alright?”

her arms wrap around his torso before he can even respond, her face buried in the chest of his suit. and before his heart can reach a normal pace again, before he can wrap his arms around her in return, she’s pulling away.

with a wave of her hand and a small but awe-strikingly beautiful smile playing upon her lips, she’s walking away. back to Ben, who waits for her by the arena exit now.

and once more, Jack’s voice is back inside Luke’s head. driving him absolutely insane as he watches the love of his life walk out of the building, giggling at something another man said.

keep waiting and playing like shit and making easily avoidable mistakes, or say fuck it to your friends advice and tell her how you feel.

tell her how you feel.

“tell her how you feel.” Luke wakes with a startle, his head knocking against his brother’s, who was leaning over him.

Jack curses, hissing in pain as he holds a hand his forehead.

“what the fuck are you doing in my room?” Luke groans, voice groggy as he takes in his surroundings.

“i got up to take a piss and i could hear your phone blowing up all the way from the bathroom,” Jack explains, “shit, you have a bony ass head.”

“it’s called a skull. i know yours doesn’t house anything inside of it, but even i assumed you’d know what it is.”

Jack huffs, rolling his eyes. “ya know what? just for that, i take back my advice. fuck off and die alone, what do i care?”

“why were you giving me advice at-” Luke slides his phone off his nightstand, checking the time, “two in the morning?”

“she’s blowing up your phone.” Jack scowls, “something something men suck something something maybe being a nun is worth the no tiktok?”

Luke feels an odd sense of relief as he looks at his recent texts, finding exactly what Jack had described.

well, without the ‘something something’s.

“pretty sure you were saying her name in your sleep too,” Jack smirks, backing away towards the bedroom door, “tell her how you feel, dickhead. put you both out of your misery so i can get some sleep and not listen to your incessant whining.”

with that, Jack leaves, the wooden door clicking shut in its frame behind him.

reading through the texts, Luke gathers that she and Ben didn’t get very far into the night together, seeing as her messages were still legible, something drunk her could never accomplish.

the thought brings him an unnecessary amount of joy. but then he’s hit with an overwhelming sense of annoyance, remembering he’ll have to go through this process all over again soon.

truthfully, he doesn’t know how much more he can take. he’s not giving up on her, on the contrary, maybe Jack is right. maybe Phil couldn’t give advice for all women and maybe Luke should just stop waiting.

she wasn’t coming to a realization quick enough and honestly, Luke is fucking tired. tired of drunken hookups. tired of listening to her rant about failed dates and sucky guys. tired of being overlooked as an option. tired of his feelings going unnoticed.

the dial tone was ringing in his ear before Luke even realized that he had made a decision, like his hands were working on autopilot. like his heart knew what he would decide before his brain did.

“hey! did i wake you?” her words weren’t slurred, Luke noted. that’s good, she doesn’t even sound tipsy. she’s in a sound state of mind for his confession.

“no,” he shook his head, despite knowing she could see him, “well, yes but no? you didn’t wake me up but Jack did, he could hear my phone buzzing.”

“oh shit, i’m sorry! we can talk tomorrow if you wanna go back to sleep, i’m just about to-”

“i love you,” immediately, Luke is regretting this decision; the silence on the other end of the phone making him bite his lip in anxiety.

“what?” her voice cracks as she giggles, “Luke, are you drunk? did you drink before you went to bed?”

“no,” he groans out, his head dropping back in frustration, “i swear, i haven’t touched any alcohol tonight. just listen to me.”

“i’m always listening to you, Lukey.” her eyes widen as she sits on the edge of her plush bed, “i just don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“i love you,” he repeats, rolling his shoulders in attempt to psych himself back up before he takes a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you. i have been since freshman year. i think that somewhere deep down, you know just as much as i do, that you’re meant to be mine. and i’ve waited two years for you to realize it. i’ve been patient, i’ve held back, i’ve waited on the sidelines while you go out on dates and i’ve listened to you rant about men. and that’s no problem; when i’m done, if you decide you’re still not ready, i’ll continue to wait for you. because even if you’re not mine, i’m yours, y/n. but, i need to get this off my chest and i need you to know that i’m in love with you. my life isn’t complete without yours. and when you’re ready, i’ll be here waiting for you. i’ll always be here. when you’re ready for the drunk hookups to turn into sober love, i’m gonna be right here. because i think that’s our fate. i think that we were destined to find each other and i think we were meant to have this storyline in our love story, and i know that one day you’ll realize it too. you can tell me i’m insane, you can tell me you don’t feel the same, you can even tell me to fuck off, if that’s what you wanna do. i’ll back off, i won’t say another word, but i’ll still be waiting.”

y/n is silent, her hands shaking as she breathes through the tears that roll down her cheeks. in return, Luke is quiet too, patiently waiting for her to digest everything he just confessed. every built up feeling that he just let slip out of him.

“i love you too.” it feels like all the weight she’s been shouldering has been listed off of her with the utterance of those four simple words.

“you do?” he feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s just been knocked against the boards and his lungs forgot how to take in oxygen.

“yes. Luke, why do you think i go on those dates? have you not noticed that almost every guy i go out with resembles you? i didn’t know if you felt the same way, i didn’t know how to tell you how i felt without risking our entire friendship going up in flames. Luke, i’m so fucking in love with you and it hurt. for two years, i’ve reveled in our drunken moments because i thought that was all i’d ever get. i dreaded the day that you would meet someone and tell me it has to stop. i fell for you so hard and it was so scary and i just- i had to try and move on. i had to try and meet someone before ultimately, you did. because i knew that if you told me you met someone, and i was still in love with you? i would never recover from that, Luke. i wouldn’t. and now you’re saying this and i, god i feel so fucking stupidly in love with you. you don’t have to wait anymore, because i realized i love you a long time ago.”

Luke pushes out of his bed, any interest in sleep lost to him. pulling on a hoodie and an abandoned pair of sweatpants from his bedroom floor, he doesn’t even bother telling Jack that he’s leaving.

“god, i need to kiss you.” he slips on his nike slides, his fingers nimbly plucking his keys off the hook by the front door, and as quickly as he could manage, he was out of there.

“you can kiss me tomorrow, Lukey.” she smiles, finally rising from her bed to finish her nightly routine.

that is, until she hears a key turn in her front door. her eyebrows pull together as she wonders out of her room, greeted by sight of a disheveled Luke in her apartment doorway, who looks like he just ran down the stairs to get there.

hanging up the phone, she grins back at the tall boy.

“or i can kiss you now.” a playful smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he taking wide glides over to her.

his hands find her cheeks, his thumbs wiping gently over the supple, tear stained skin. the apartment is silent, their heartbeats racing as she gazes up at his beautiful eyes.

“or you can kiss me now.” she echoes, her words mumbled and low.

that’s the final straw, the confirmation Luke desperately needed, and finally, he allows his head to dip down. her lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of mint ice cream, and warmth spreads across his body, starting at his chest and almost blossoming across his body. Luke feels at home.

her hands desperately cling to his hoodie, as though he’ll disappear if she lets go, and his slide back to cup the nape of her neck. she has no desire to pull away, but her lungs spread with fire until she’s forced apart by the need to breathe.

“i love you.” she whispers, eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his own, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she bites back a lovelorn smile.

“i love you, sweet girl.”

“please don’t go back home. spend the night?” she finally opens her eyes, her head tipping back as he straightens up.

a pink hue glows upon his cheeks, and she can’t resist letting the backs of her fingers gently graze over the heated skin.

“not going anywhere, baby. staying right here.” his lips brush against her forehead, leaving a fleeting kiss in their wake and making her heartbeat flutter within her rib cage.

it feels right, the way they go about a new bed time routine. luke’s arms wrapped around her waist as she brushes her teeth, his eyes boring into her reflection. her head on his chest as they fall asleep, his alarm on for them to wake up for morning skate, together.

and if they were holding hands when they walked into the rink, if they were a cheesy couple who kissed before he entered the locker room, if his smile was a bit too wide in the tiktok she filmed for the Devils socials, if she chose the question ‘do you believe in fate?’ solely because of him, could they really be blamed?

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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leaderwonim · 4 months

Text

SEASONS

⤻ pairing. popular!sunghoon x shy!reader (ft nishimura riki and hanni from nwjns)

⤻ genre. fluff, hints of angst, brother’s best friend to lovers trope (reader is heeseung’s sister) forbidden love kinda

⤻ synopsis. park sunghoon, the notorious playboy who just so happens to be your brother’s best friend, was off limits. heeseung had made it clear to you during your freshman year of high school, and the rule still hasn’t changed even when entering your senior year. but what lee heeseung doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

author’s note: wrote this out of boredom after listening to seasons by wave to earth 🥹 i love that song with all my heart. riki is so unserious lmao i love him. COMMENTS & REBLOGS are always appreciated 🤞

“he’s off limits,” heeseung says as he swings by your desk, watching as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, a post of sunghoon’s passing by. “i saw you stalk him, you know.”

“i wasn’t stalking him.” you say, shooing your older brother away. “geez, have you gotten crazier since you’ve left for stanford?”

“first of all, i’m not crazy.” he flicks your forehead, deciding to be the annoying older brother he was and rummage through your things. “and i’d like to see you get into stanford yn, i really would. instead of being boy crazy with your psychotic friends.”

you roll your eyes at this, placing your phone down to look at your brother. “my friends are not psychotic. plus, your stupid rule about sunghoon started in freshman year of high school, can’t you let it go?”

“never.” heeseung steps off your bed. “i know him, yn. you don’t, you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

you blow the threat from your brother. if there’s one thing you’ve learned from living with lee heeseung your entire life was that ignoring him was easier than trying to pick a fight with him. he was stubborn as a bull.

heeseung and sunghoon became friends in the fifth grade after your family had moved, and he ignored your presence up until junior year of high school, where he ruffled your hair when you congratulated him on his graduation.

“thanks little lee,” he says, and it’s all park sunghoon has spoke to you, which hurt knowing that you’ve practically tried everything since middle school for him to acknowledge your existence.

“YN!” your mother calls from the kitchen. “oh gosh, i forgot to pack heeseung his lunch! can you drive to the university?”

your cheeks puff out, which makes riki who was currently on your phone screen, laugh.

“yah, listen to your mother lee yn,” riki snickers. “i’ll come with. i need to get out of my house anyway.”

you roll your eyes at his self invitation, hanging up as you quickly run down to grab heeseung’s lunch from your mom and your keys.

yn on top☝️

be ready in 5 nishimura, im omw

nishishi

ok.

yn on top ☝️

dry ass

“get in loser!” you call out. nishimura riki pulls his black shades down, eyebrows furrowed.

“the hell you call me?” he jokes, opening your passenger car door.

he starts to buckle his seatbelt as you drive, taking a sip from your stanley. “so why are you so excited? wait—i know why. you get to see park sunghoon in action!”

“yah!” you slap his shoulder with your free hand, turning the music a bit louder so you couldn’t hear him.

“oh don’t turn up the music because you can’t handle the truth. you just wanna see your brother’s hot best friend.”

“can you blame a girl?” you say, lips out in a pout. “maybe now that i’m 18, they’ll take me seriously.”

“nobody takes you seriously, y/n.”

“nishimura riki, you have 5 minutes to get out my car.”

turns out, nishimura riki did not get outside of your car. for a boy who was on the varsity track and swim team of your high school, he refused to walk the 3 miles that was left to go to the university.

“you almost forgot his lunch idiot,” riki laughs, handing heeseung’s lunch to you. “imagine you approach sunghoon thinking you’re all cool and then he asks why you’re here and you don’t even have your brothers lunch to defend you.”

“do you always wish death upon me?” you give him the stink eye, pulling him by his hands.

“little lee, did not expect to see you here.”

you knew that voice from anywhere, and you were almost afraid to turn around to face the owner of it.

“yah little lee, i’m talking to you.” it was park sunghoon in all his glory, his hair sitting all nice and pretty as he waits for your response.

“oh! uh—where’s heeseung?”

“ouch,” sunghoon places a hand over his chest. “i greet you and the first thing you ask is where’s your brother.”

riki cackles loudly, so loud that you want to slam his mouth shut and pretend you don’t know him.

“hi park sunghoon,” he greets, extending his hand.

although sunghoon finds the tall boy a bit of a cutie by his baby face, the way he was holding onto your hand made him already seem like a threat, so sunghoon’s expression is pursed into a poker face.

“heeseung is down at the corridor,” sunghoon says, turning back to you. “do you want me to give him that?”

you nod shyly, handing the lunch to sunghoon who smiles. “aish, the kid got into stanford and he’s still making his mom make his lunch?”

you could feel riki’s hand loosen from yours, his attention caught on two students who were currently dancing on the other side of campus.

“be right back!” he exclaims, running off to watch them.

“this jerk,” you whisper underneath your breath, smiling when you make eye contact with sunghoon again.

“he’s quite the character, isn’t he?” sunghoon questions. “who is he?”

he says that in such a bitter taste that makes your stomach flip, wondering why he was suddenly upset.

“nishimura riki, he transferred to hybe high from japan just this year. he’s really sweet but very chaotic.”

“ah,” sunghoon clicks his tongue. “is he your boyfriend?”

your words almost get caught in your throat, obviously shocked by sunghoon’s straightforward question. “what?! no!”

“oh,” he smiles. “that’s good little lee.”

“you should just call me y/n,” you groan. “little lee sounds so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” sunghoon says, flicking his hand. “it’s cute.”

“really?”

“like you.”

before you could even process it, riki’s already running back to the two of you, excitedly telling you about the amazing dance program stanford has to offer.

“let’s go! i have to go home and submit an application to stanford!”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at the excited tall boy who was currently grabbing you, sending you a small wave and smirk when your eyes plead for him to rescue you.

“see you soon little lee.”

“YAH! ARE YOU AN IDIOT?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT WAS AN ACCIDENT?!”

you were currently scolding the japanese boy for ruining your chances with sunghoon earlier.

“it is not my fault lee yn!” he says, puffing out his chest. “plus, the dancers say there’s a party this weekend at stanford and they’ll sneak us in. we have to go, you can see sunghoon hyung again and i can see them!”

you pursed your mouth into a thin line, riki awaiting anxiously for your answer.

“let’s say i do wanna go, heeseung would never let me go to a college party, especially not with a boy like you!”

riki clasps his hand over his chest and pretends to fall over in pain on your bed. “how could you say that?! i’m a great guy. cmon yn, you can’t let your older brother dictate your entire life, you’re 18 now!”

although riki has said a million of stupid things, he was right about this. you were eighteen, and you didn’t need your older brother ruining your chances of getting a boyfriend.

“okay,” you say, watching as riki’s eyes lit up. “let’s go. who are your dancer friends?”

the weekend had came by quicker than you thought, and you waited until heeseung said his goodbyes to you so you could get dressed and do your makeup.

although you didn’t want to go overboard with the whole thing, you still wanted to impress sunghoon, because after all, there would be a bunch of prettier college girls at the party that were smarter than you in everything.

“wow.” nishimura riki’s mouth drops as he sees your dress and face. “you clean up nice lee yn!”

“thanks ri,” you ruffle his hair, which he swats away in annoyance. “let’s go, heeseung’s already there.”

“great, so are my dancer friends!”

the two of you blended in easily, riki’s height doing both of you a favor as you held hands and made your way through the crowd of dancing and drinking college students.

“little lee?” your face bumps into sunghoon’s chest, and you almost gulp when you look up at his height. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“well that’s my queue to leave!” riki chuckles nervously, throwing you a lazy thumbs up as he runs to the drink cooler.

“never will understand that kid.” sunghoon mutters under his breath. “but seriously y/n, it can be dangerous, why are you here?”

it’s the first time in forever that he’s addressed you by your first name, and you can’t help but feel giddy.

overconfident by the drinks you had pregamed with riki previously, you find yourself leaning closer to park sunghoon. “i came here for you.”

he blinks.

“here..” he states, glancing around the party. “for me?”

the confidence wore off in a second. you were now starting to get embarrassed, cursing yourself for saying such things in front of sunghoon who probably didn’t even like you.

“that’s sweet little lee,” he says, eyes crinkling. “but you could get into a lot of trouble if your brother finds you, you know? he already freaks about you enough, finding you at a party at his college at night will kill him at the spot.”

park sunghoon was right, your brother would absolutely rage if he had found out you snuck out to go to a party. in some ways, he was even more strict than your mom.

“hoonie!” the voice of a girl interrupts the both of you as she makes her way over, placing a sloppy kiss against sunghoon’s cheek. she hasn’t said anything to you and you were already starting to see red.

“oh hi! i didn’t see you there!” she extends her hand, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m hanni, president of the pi beta thi sorority!”

you notice sunghoon’s hands finding themselves around her waist. although he’s probably only doing that to stabilize her, you find yourself too jealous to speak.

“hanni, this is lee y/n, heeseung’s sister.”

“oh!” the girl gasps. “oh my gosh, i’ve heard just so much about you! you’re prettier in real life! what are you doing at a college party?”

now you can’t really keep being mad at her because she seems so genuine when she’s complimenting you.

“oh, my friend riki has dancer friends who invited us.” you say awkwardly, watching as sunghoon whispers something in hanni’s ear.

“well that’s awesome, i hope i’m gonna see you here next year!” hanni then waves her hands, parting away from sunghoon. “i’m gonna go say hi to your brother, toodles!”

you watch as she makes her way towards the outside, most likely to the pool. at least you knew where your brother was so you know how to avoid him.

“hanni is really sweet,” sunghoon says as you turn back to face him. “met her a few months ago.”

“oh really,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. “is she your girlfriend?”

sunghoon laughs as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “what? no—of course not. she’s just touchy when she’s drunk. she’s dating one of my frat friends, his name is yang jungwon.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, happy that sunghoon was still single. after all, hanni was a pretty and nice girl, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to pull him.

the two of you stand in silence for a bit, sunghoon staring into your eyes with his dazed eyes. you almost want to pull him in, close the gaps between yours and his lips.

“am i stupid?” he suddenly asks, eyes still in contact with yours.

“no, why would you say that sunghoon?”

“i still like you after all this time. even when i got to college and promised myself i’d find a girlfriend and move on, you’re always still at the back of my mind.”

his confession makes you wonder if you were hallucinating, not believing that the park sunghoon who you’ve been inlove with since childhood was currently telling you he liked you.

“i..” he doesn’t let you say anything else, choosing to lean in and kiss you instead.

it’s all great and feels magical until you’re pulled back harshly, the sound of your brother’s yelling filling your ears.

“LEE Y/N? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING AT A COLLEGE PARTY, AT NIGHT? KISSING SUNGHOON OF ALL PEOPLE? WE’RE GOING HOME!”

you want to cry in embarrassment when you realize everyone has turned their eyes to look at you, and sunghoon throws you a look of guilt and pity when he sees heeseung dragging you away.

“stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” you cry as you’re outside the party.

“me, embarrassing you?” heeseung scoffs, looking up into the sky before looking down at you. “do you know how much you’ve disappointed me tonight? first, you dress up in barely any clothes, then you sneak into a party with some japanese male exchange student, and then you KISSED MY BEST FRIEND?” you close your eyes at heeseung’s yelling, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole.

“what will i do with you?” he grumbles as he drives the two of you home. “you’re lucky mom is out of town for two days. if i drove you home like this, she would kill you. and is that fucking alcohol i smell on you lee y/n?”

you gulp, knowing full well that you probably reeked of alcohol and sunghoon’s cologne at that moment.

“i told you he was a bad influence.” heeseung says as a red light comes up, turning to you as his hands were still on the steering wheel. “he’s going to break your heart and crush it beneath his feet, and who are you gonna come crying to? me. i’ve seen it so many times before y/n, my own girl friends at college have got with sunghoon and all he’s done is crush their souls and spirits. you think you’re any different because he said a few sweet things and kissed you?”

“stop it.” you say, wiping your tears away. “you’re being mean, heeseung.”

“men like him don’t change, y/n. sure, he’s my best friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend. he’ll drop you the second he feels like you’re inconvenient.”

you let out your first sob at night as your brother pulls into your driveway. although he’s still fuming mad at you for going against all his rules, he pulls you into his chest, letting you cry it out as he rubs your back comfortingly.

“are you okay?” is the first thing nishimura riki says when he sees you at school, frowning at your bloodshot eyes. “i saw you get dragged away by heeseung hyung yesterday night. it was really loud.”

“gee, thanks.” you scowl at him, making him raise his hands in surrender.

“if it makes you feel better, sunghoon wanted to speak to you.”

your head suddenly peeks up at this, and riki almost laughs by how easily he could change your mood.

“really? even after last night?”

“mhm.” riki stabs a fork into his mashed potatoes. “but he didn’t look so happy, so if you end up crying after, i have ice cream at my house.”

you let out a laugh at the boy’s words, silently thanking the world for giving you such an unserious best friend.

and just like riki had said earlier, park sunghoon was waiting in front of your house by the time you got home.

“hey.” he says, hands in pocket.

“hey.”

“about last night,” he seems to be looking everywhere but you. “i’m really sorry about your brother.”

“it’s fine.” you say, shrugging. “he was just being overprotective as usual.”

“yeah.” sunghoon steps closer cautiously. “i meant what i said, you know. about me liking you.”

“sunghoon, i like you too.”

he nods slowly, expression still glum. “that’s the problem though. we cant be together, y/n, you know that, right?”

“why?” you breathe out. “because you want to keep playing girls at your college?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply. “what? no? i’m just—i can’t be with you!” he steps backwards. “i’ll ruin your life, you said it yourself, i play girls at stanford. what’s to say i wont do the same to you?”

“i have known you since you were 10 sunghoon!” you say, throwing up your hands exasperated. “i know you can change for the better. i won’t let you go away this easily, not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

“really?” sunghoon whispers, eyes teary. “you’ve spent your entire life loving me?”

“i have.” you walk up to sunghoon, cupping his face into your hands. “and i’ll love you for my next life if i have to.”

he laughs quietly, head tilting as he admired your face.

“little lee,” he says softly. “you really are a gem, aren’t you?”

park sunghoon being park sunghoon doesn’t let you reply to his words, instead shutting you up with a long kiss on the lips.

“wow.” you say as you pull away, making the older boy giggle. “lee heeseung is so gonna kill the both of us after the life lecture he gave me last night.”

“can’t kill me if i move away to antarctica.” sunghoon smirks, watching as your expression changes in a millisecond.

“YAH PARK SUNGHOON! YOU ARE NOT MOVING ANTARCTICA AFTER JUST CONFESSING TO ME!”

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sincerelyakilljoy · 1 month

Text

THE GOLD COIN THAT GLITTERS AND GLINTS

pairing - aventurine x gambler + debtor!fem reader length - 11.4k words warnings - nsfw/18+ content, fem!reader, some fingering (with his gloves on), slight choking, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, doll, etc), he's kinda mean, teasing, penetrative sex, guns (barely), gambling, aventurine whines a bit, kinda dom aventurine (?), slight coercion/threats (reader is consenting)

summary - you ran away from the IPC to penacony because of the huge debt you owed and couldnt pay. years later when youre out gambling a familiar figure appears with another offer you cant refuse.

NOTES

honestly i can see him being like this in all honesty, he definitely would be an ass tbh...this is proofread (ty to my frennn) but sorry for any mistakes :p also ive never gambled so writing that was a bit hard, so sorry if it sounds stupid

The smell of cedar and smoke fills your senses as you enter the casino, eyes scanning the floor before shifting to one of the casino’s cashier windows.

You huff as you saunter your way over to the cashier, lugging a briefcase along with you.

A sweet smile spreads along your features as you greet the cashier. “I’d like to exchange my cash.” You hum, setting your briefcase on the counter.

“For how much?” The cashier asks, clicking a few things on his kiosk before looking up at you as he reaches out and grabs the briefcase, flicking open the metal clamps and cracking it open.

“A million.” You say with a smile, watching as his face shifts with emotions you don’t even bother to acknowledge. “Hurry please, ‘m a bit busy.” Gently urging him to hurry.

Your tone is a bit rude but you don’t mean to sound like that, you’re in a rush and the face the cashier made only made you feel anxious and like he was going to take a bit too long.

The cashier only nods and hurries to transfer your money to chips, opening the briefcase to pull out the stacks of cash.

“M’sorry if I was a bit rude,” You apologize, you’re voice a bit awkward as you try to sound a bit nicer. It's not on purpose but..you’re a bit “tone deaf” per se. “I’m just in a bit of a rush.”

The cashier mumbles a “it’s fine”, clearly focused on his job at hand.

You don’t say anything more than that, only leaning forward against the counter as he deals with your money.

After a few minutes he sets a briefcase containing your poker chips on the counter, pushing the briefcase towards you. “Here you go, ma’am..”

You grab the cool handle of the briefcase, nodding a polite thank you to the cashier before walking away.

You look around the casino, looking at the games being played. Men surrounding tables with women on their arms while smoking fat cigars, some young, some much older.

You walk around a bit before seeing a poker table with an empty seat. You hum to yourself before walking over, glancing at the people seated. “Can I join?” You ask with a smile.

The other 6 people look at you, eyeing you pointedly. You can’t tell if they’re being judgemental of some sorts, their looks a bit annoying to you.

“Of course sweetheart, take a seat.” A man says, his voice drunk sounding and gruff.

You angle your head to look at him, raising a brow at the nickname he called you but you relent to not say anything more and just slide into the seat that happens to be next to the man.

As you sit the cashier deals the cards smoothly, sliding them in all directions cleanly.

After you’ve been dealt your cards you pick them up fluidly, eyeing the cards in your hands while keeping a straight face, a poker face if you will.

“Place your bet.” The dealer says, looking at the person next to him, waiting for his bet.

“Hundred thou’.” The man says, stacking his chips next to him on his left.

You swallow at the amount, a bit annoyed with how high the bet was already but what can you do?

You wait for someone to raise it but when nobody does the game starts.

You look down at your cards again, listening as the players place their bets, all of them not raising the previous price at all.

“Raise three hundred thousand.” You hum once it’s your turn, placing more chips on the table. You think to yourself whether or not it’s good to bet so much more this early on but you decide that it doesn’t matter much.

You have more money waiting for you in your account if you really needed it and to be cocky, you’re real fucking lucky.

A few at the table call while two of them fold, placing their cards face down and pushing them to the dealer before abruptly leaving, losing anything they’ve bet so far.

After the two leave the dealer places three cards face up on the table, an Ace of hearts, Seven of spades and a 3 of clovers.

You smile slightly to yourself, already seeing a in so early in the game.

Oh, you’re definitely winning this.

You won big.

Another 1.2 Million to your savings all from one match of poker. Lucky might just be your middle fucking name.

A bit smugly you get up from the poker table, collecting your neat, little chips in your briefcase, watching as the others at the table grumble curses while staring daggers at you.

You couldn’t care less. Feeling smug and cocky, winning one round is really getting to your head.

You hum a little song to yourself as you walk away, looking around for something else to play. But everything seems to be a little boring tonight, after winning so much money and one shot you didn’t know what you should play next in all honesty.

You walk around the floor, heels softly clacking on the soft, velvet floors as you eye tables for anything that even slightly grabs your attention.

That’s when you hear loud voices, someone yelling.

“This fuckers-hic- cheating..!” A drunken voice booms and nosily, you can’t help but walk over to see what’s going on.

A drunkard waving his hands at a man as a bouncer tries to grab him and calm him down.

The man seems calm, looking at the man with almost too natural looking smirk adoring his features. Blonde hair framing his face and a hat that looks like a fedora on, slightly hiding his features with rose tinted glasses on.

“Cheating? Don’t be so mad, maybe you’re just unlucky, hm?” The man says, a bit sassily while he flips a gold coin in his hand.

This seems to only enrage the drunkard who swings at the blonde man who just steps back, causing the drunk idiot to stumble and fall.

“That’s embarrassing, don’t you think?” The blonde says, a smug look on his face as he looks down at the drunk condescendingly.

You watch as the drunk gets dragged out, yelling profanities at the blonde who just shrugs it off.

You swear you’ve seen the blonde somewhere but can’t put a finger on it, so to quench your curiosity you walk over to the table.

As you walk up you look at the table, seeing its roulette you feel confident that you might get even more lucky.

You ask the dealer to join who simply says yes and you move to sit on the stool at the table, directly across from the blonde.

You attempt to get more glimpses of his face but can’t due to his hat and glasses.

The dealer calls for bets and each person places them, including yourself and the blonde across from you.

“Black, eleven.” He says, it almost seems like he’s bored as he smugly rests his chin on his palm, looking at the board as the dealer spins it.

As it spins you feel a bit nervous, roulette is more of a game of chance than anything, you just have to get lucky again.

And you do, the die landing in the slots you betted on.

You smile as chips get pushed your way, getting a slight thrill.

“Mm, seems like I wasn’t so lucky this round.” The blonde says with what seems to be a feigned sigh as he moves to pull off his hat, setting down next to him.

Then you’re painfully aware of how you recognized him.

IPC..he’s from the fucking IPC.

He smirks at you, cockily and knowingly, and you can’t help but fucking shiver from the way his eyes bore into you, almost saying “Recognize me?”

You ponder on whether or not you should act like you don’t recognize him, playing a few more times with the risk of him possibly confronting you or just walk out with your winnings with the chance of him following and confronting you.

Both seem to have the same outcome.

So you play innocent, shifting your gaze away from his with a calm face in an attempt to hide your onslaught nervousness.

You mumble your bet and push your chips forward, glancing at the blonde.

“Raise fifty million.”

He said your debt, the exact amount of money you owe to the IPC, he’s fucking with you.

You clench your jaw to save face, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you stare down at your chips.

He laughs, the sound snapping you out of whatever daze you’re in.

“I’m kidding, raise it five hundred thousand.” He hums, pushing his chips forward as he eyes you pointedly before saying his color and number.

You swallow at the eye contact, internally screaming at yourself to just leave but you don’t, either way you’d seem suspicious no matter what you did so you decide to stay, matching his bet.

The dealer spins the board and you just feel dizzy watching it, sudden waves of anxiety washing over you as you think about what might happen later.

You haven’t paid your debt in over 5 years, deciding you’d rather disappear and be a fugitive to the IPC than pay the debt you owed.

You only had them come after you once and that’s when you initially met the blonde.

Aventurine.

He was cynical, cocky and arrogant, wearing a smirk while threatening you.

The IPC had come for you when you still lived in the underground city of Belobog, broke and stupid you decided to take money from them as a loan.

A stupidly large amount of money that you didn’t even know what to do with.

Initially you didn’t want to ask for much, only a thousand or so but greed got the best of you and you just wanted to get money, so you said the price. Fifty million.

When you got the money you were shocked, the check was so huge you didn’t even think you could cash it in at the bank. You didn’t spend much of the money until you heard more about the IPC, when they started to get exposed for their inhumanity.

“You took how much from the IPC?!” Your boss nearly blew your eardrums out with her shouting and you only looked at her stupidly, like you were caught doing something obscene.

“F..fifty mil- but I’ll pay it back! I’ll just take it slow..y’know..” You mumble, rubbing the back of your neck nervously as you lean back against the bar's counter.

“Girl, I don’t think you know how serious the IPC are about their money…” Her tone is serious, eyes boring into you with worry and fear. “You don’t understand what they’ll do to get every last dollar back, down to the penny.”

You roll your eyes, picking up the broom that was leaning on the counter next to you.

“What? They'll take my stuff? Newsflash, I don’t have shit.” You hum ignorantly, slowly starting to sweep the floor.

“Girl, they will take you.” She grabs your wrist, it’s not tight or anything but she squeezes ever so slightly to let you know, she’s not kidding.

“If you don’t pay it back in the time they gave you in your contract, you're screwed. You don’t know what they will do to ya’.”

You roll your eyes for the upteenth time, completely ignoring her worries even though she seems scared for you.

“Honestly, I’ll pay it back. Don’t worry too much, I’ll be okay.” You sigh softly, placing your hands on your boss’s shoulders, massaging softly in an attempt to soothe her worries.

“It’s not like they’ll threaten to kill me or anything.”

Those words rang through your head a year later, after missing nearly every payment required of you. It was only a matter of time they came for you.

You pant heavily, watching as IPC troops stormed into your dingy, little apartment that you made home. Breaking picture frames, plates and anything else that got in their way.

You’re backed up into a corner of your kitchen, two IPC troops pointing guns at you as they seem to wait for someone else to come deal with you.

“W-what are y-” you’re interrupted by a gun shoving you in your stomach, pushing you back into the kitchen counter.

“Shut your mouth!” The trooper shouted, keeping his gun pressed to your abdomen, twisting it into your skin, making you cry out.

You stand there, shaking as you watch them tear you home apart.

In that moment all you can do is regret, regret taking the money while deep down knowing you weren’t going to even be able to pay the monthly payments, especially with the insane interest that was added to your debt.

With shuddering breaths you watch as someone else enters your apartment, seemingly dressed to the nines, you ponder on whether or not you could even afford a single piece of string used for his clothes.

He walks in, rudely stepping on the photos that were left scattered on the floor. He looks around, humming at the sigh of your home in shambles before turning to you.

“My, my…couldn’t have expected this..could you?” His voice is sickeningly condescending while keeping up his feigned friendly tone as he walks towards you, pulling off his rose tinted glasses that he simply tucks into a pocket.

You clench your jaw as he walks towards you, getting so close you’re practically huffing the expensive cologne he wears.

The IPC troops step out of the kitchen, leaving you and the blonde alone.

“Hm, this place looks awfully…” He starts, turning his head to look at the state of your home. “Lived in, hm?” He looks at you, tilting his head to the side as he wears a disgusting smirk.

You don’t reply, only staring up at him in hatred and fear, knuckles turning white from how hard you’re gripping the counter behind you.

“Can’t speak? That’s fine,” He shrugs, his eyes never leaving your face as he steps back a bit, giving you a bit of room in the small kitchen.

“You’re at least a bit aware of who I am, yes?” He asks, folding his arms as he looks at you.

You shake your head slowly. “I only know the IPC in general…nothing more.” You respond, your voice a bit shaky as you try to hold yourself together.

“Well, you do know what debt collectors are in general, right?” He hums, looking at you as he waits for you to answer.

And when you don’t, he’s stepping forward once again. You raise a brow as you watch him step forward before a sharp yelp is pulled from your lips as his gloved hand comes out to roughly grab your jaw, yanking your face so close to him his nose brushes against your cheek.

“Right?” He sneers into your ear his tone losing its feigned friendliness, only a tone of disgust and malice lacing his voice. He tightens his grip on your jaw and it feels like he might be able to just pull it off.

You wince at the feeling, feeling your eyes water from the pain alone. So you squeak out a “yes” and thankfully he lets go but doesn’t step back.

“I’d advise you to use your words,” He sighs, sounding all too relaxed but it makes sense cause he’s not the one in the situation at hand. “I can be patient but at the moment patience isn’t enough, due to the fact we’ve already have been soo patient and kind to you for the past year.”

You listen in silence, rubbing your sore jaw as you start daggers at him.

“What’s with that look? You’ve more or less brought this upon yourself..” He laughs and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. “Let me explain to you what’s going to happen from today onwards,” He hums, taking out a gold coin before starting to toy with it in his fingers.

“Right now you still owe about forty nine million eight hundred fifty dollars, somehow you managed to pay the one hundred and fifty thousand dollars that you owed one month but for some reason you never paid the monthly payments again.” He looks you up and down, flicking the coin up into the air before catching it in his hand.

“So, what happened to all the money you took?” He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly as he stares at you, still wearing a smug smile.

“I..I gave it away to people.” You lie, although you did give a lot of it away to friends, family or others in need you put the rest of it up. Why didn’t you just pay the monthly payments with that money? You didn’t even know, assuming that the IPC wouldn’t do anything to you for that money and the fact they probably have trillions of dollars to their name.

What’s a measly fifty million?

Clearly a lot if they’re doing this.

“Gave it away?” He repeats, raising a brow. “Generous aren’t you?” He says, before stepping closer to you once again.

“Let’s make a bet.” He positions the gold coin on his thumb and forefinger in a flicking position. “I’ll flip a coin, if you guess which side it lands on correctly I’ll give you some leeway, seventy five percent less interest and another year and a half to pay it back. How’s that sound?”

You stare at him with uncertainty, swallowing thickly as your hands tighten into fists, nails digging into your palm, leaving deep crescent shapes behind in your skin.

This man just stormed your house and trashed it to hell…how are you supposed to believe a single thing he says.

“I know, how are you supposed to believe a thing I say?” He says, practically reading your mind and it scares you a bit. “Trust me…you’ll want to take this offer.”

His tone feels like he’s not lying and the way he’s staring at you feels like burning holes right into you, silently telling you to hurry up and answer.

You exhale a shaky sigh before nodding. “Deal.”

“Hmph, good choice.” He hums before flipping the coin, smoothly catching it with his left hand. “Heads.” His voice is low as he stares you in the eyes, piercing you with his gaze as he clenches the count in his gloved hand.

“Tails.” You mutter, your voice shaky and quiet as you advert your gaze, looking down at his hand to avoid his eyes. Holding your breath in fearful anticipation as you wait for the reveal.

Slowly he opens his hand, the coin flipped on tails.

You let out a shuddering breath of relief as you see the coin, basically collapsing back against the counter as you hold back tears that threaten to roll down your cheeks.

“Awe, relieved are you?” He coos, voice sickeningly sweet and laced with condescendence.

He moves closer to you, invading your space as you back up instinctively, bumping against the counter that traps you. He reaches out and grabs your chin, not as harshly as before but firm enough to force you to look up at him.

“You’re quite lucky and here I was, ready to drag you out of here by the hair.” He laughs cynically, trailing one of his gloved fingers along your jaw. “Next time,” He starts, inhaling through his nose. “I won’t be so lenient. Next time, I’ll make sure you pay off your debt by any means the IPC sees fit, and trust me when I say this,”

He leans in, breath fanning against your ear. “You’ll fucking wish you were dead.”

Those words ring in your ears, years later, in this moment. You’re screwed, screwed in ways you couldn’t even imagine.

You regret not just paying it back, you should’ve just paid it back. You don’t even know why you got so cocky, developing a gambling habit and deciding to run away, changing your name and doing whatever you can to disappear.

You went to Penacony, thinking it may be a safe haven due to how many people come and go there..but clearly it isn’t, now that you’re stuck in this unwinnable situation.

If you could, you'd drop to your knees and pray, maybe even lick the bastard's shoes while you’re at it. But you’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you see chips getting pushed your way.

“Miss? You’ve won again.” The dealer says simply, pushing chips towards you.

You inhale sharply, knowing the amount may well be over the money you’ve already won. You’re feeling real lucky now.

You decide to push your luck.

So, you put on a pretty smile, collect your chips and fucking book it.

Well not exactly, running in the casino will just make you seem stupid and suspicious so you turn, take your winnings and walk away, walking to a kiosk to cash out.

Maybe it’s the paranoia but you swear that you can feel Aventurines eyes boring into you, feeling that piercing gaze sting your back, even when you’re away from where that man is. Yeah, you need to hurry the fuck up.

Quickly, you shove your winning into your briefcase before speed walking out of the casino.

You contemplate whether or not you should go back to your hotel room. The IPC could be there, waiting for you to show up.

Instead of heading straight home, you go and walk around the city, trying to figure out what to do and where to go next. You’ve already done so much to get away, erasing yourself from Belobog completely and they still found you.

At this point it seems like you’ll have to fake your own death just to get away.

You walk around Penacony, taking in the sights as if it’s your first time there. Honestly, you’re just doing this to distract yourself. And you’re thinking and thinking about what you could’ve done differently back then and the answer is so painfully obvious. Never take the money.

If you felt like it, you would kick yourself for being such an idiot.

You walk through Penacony’s shopping district, not looking to buy anything at the moment but it’s nice to just look.

As you’re walking you see three IPC troops in the distance, talking to some woman while showing them a photo.

You freeze, wondering if they could be asking about you.

I mean, there’s tons of people in debt with the IPC, they wouldn’t do this much for one person…right?

Wrong.

You watch as the woman glances around, the IPC troops filling her gaze before their sights land on you.

One of them shouts at you and this time, you fucking book it.

Quickly pulling your heels off your feet to carry as you run in the direction of your hotel. You’re sure they’re on your ass, hearing heavy footsteps behind you as you run.

As you’re running you see a tight alley, dark and long. You look over your shoulder and see that they’re far behind but close enough to catch you if you take one wrong move.

Quickly you duck into the alley, hiding behind random clutter that’s in the alley.

You wait a second before hearing the troops stomp past the alley, yelling “where is she?!”.

You sigh a breath of relief, clutching your chest. You can’t believe you managed to lose them, panting and tired you laugh slightly to yourself, wondering how the hell they were so stupid.

You wait about thirty minutes before walking out the alley and running to your hotel, which conveniently was nearby. Although you look silly, running barefoot while carrying your heels and a big ass suitcase, you couldn’t care, hurrying into the building and to your hotel room.

You shove yourself into your room, shutting the door behind you before collapsing back against it, panting and breathing heavily as you slide down onto the floor, ultimately relieved.

Once you’re calmed down and caught your breath you get up to look around your hotel room, making sure nobody’s in there hiding to catch you off guard. You look in the kitchen area, being so paranoid you open the cabinets, searching the inside ‘cause honestly, the assholes could be hiding anywhere.

You check the bathroom next, yanking open the shower curtain and sighing a breath of relief as you see nobody’s there. You walk out the bathroom, sighing as you start to unzip your dress, exhausted and in dire need of a shower. You start to slip out your dress when you hear a voice clear its throat.

You whip your head around and see the blonde bastard, comfortably sitting in the recliner that came with your room.

You don’t even know how and when he got in but the thought of him being able to come in without you noticing sends a chill up your spine.

“Nice room,” Aventurine hums, looking at you with a disgusting smirk that makes your blood run cold as he flips his gold coin in his fingers. “Now, how can you afford this room, a trip to the beautiful place of Penacony and of course, your gambling habit but cant pay back the debt you owe?” He sneers, a disgusting tone of voice that hides his hostility, a mocking sound of friendliness slipping from his lips.

You can't even respond, you've been caught. You stand in the mini hallway of your hotel room, hands balled into fists as you try to think of something to say but you can't. You're scared, really fucking scared. All you can think is about his threats, is he going to kill you? Enslave you to the IPC as some sort of labor worker until you pay off your debt?

You're frozen, completely frozen even as he stands and walks towards you, piercing eyes boring into you, feeling like he can burn holes straight through your body with his eyes alone.

You take a deep, shuddering breath as he gets closer to you, eyes already watering just from his presence. “I’m s..sorry..” You mumble, looking at him a bit pitifully.

“Hm,” Aventurine grabs your balled fists, easily opening your hand, revealing deep crescents dug into your skin from your nails. You flinch with his every movement, breath hitching as he unballs your fists. “You're only sorry you got caught, be honest with your apologies.” He runs his fingers over the marks on your palm, tracing circles over them. “Honestly, it wasn't very hard to find you. Rather simple actually.” He hums, releasing your hands. “It was a bit obvious you'd be here but since you've done so much to get rid of yourself, it took us a while. But you know what happens now, yes?”

You're dead silent, not even knowing what to say in this situation, you can't apologize, you can't bargain and you can't pay. You can only beg.

“i..i'm sorry.. I swear.. please..do..don't..” You start to cry, shaking and staring down at your feet and your hands move to clutch at your dress. “P..please…” You say with a grovely tone, voice shaky as you try to look up at him, eyes bleary with tears making it hard to see him, but you don't even know if you want to see his face.

“Aww, don't cry,” Aventurine coos, voice laced with feigned sweetness as he reaches up to cup your cheek, gloved thumb swiping your tears away. You flinch away from his touch, still crying and sniffling as he looks down at you. His touch is disgustingly tender, softly brushing away your tears as if he cares but when you look at the look on his face it's one of condescendence and power, smirking as if he's getting a kick out of seeing your tears.

“Do you want help? Ill bargain with you one last time, how does that sound?” His voice disturbs you, making you shudder in fear. “If not, I'll just take you away now.”

It sounds like he wants you to take the deal, his second sentence a clear threat to force you into taking the deal. And like an idiot, you silently nod.

He smirks even wider at this, both hands moving to cup your face and force you to look up at him, his hold is firm, making sure you wont move your head to look away. “Is that a yes? Use your words, sweetheart.” He disgusts you, you hate him. Your mind screams insults at him, but all you do is play exactly into his hand. “Y..yes..”

You feel horrible, but you dug yourself this grave and you’re painfully aware of that.

He grins widely, hands holding your face firmly. “Spend the night with me.”

You do a double take, flinching and attempting to move away but his hands slide down to your waist, gripping it firmly to keep you still while squeezing hard enough that the feeling has you wincing in pain.

You look at him with a shocked expression, eyes wide with your brows furrowed and curved. You open your mouth as if you were going to say something but can't get anything out a few sputters of jumbled words.

“Huh? Cat got your tongue?” He coos, tilting your face up with his thumb and forefinger, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “Take this deal and your debt is gone, zero cents owed to your name..”

You dont reply, eyes shut as you think. You hate this man but you can't deny that he is attractive and you really need the IPC off your ass. Pushing down your pride you respond. “Okay..”

You accepted the deal all too quickly. Selling yourself out without a second thought or consideration of how just accepting this deal would affect you in the future.

After you utter those words his lips are on yours, kissing you in a way that contradicts the way he acts. Your hands tug at the sides of your dress, as you squeeze your eyes shut, unsure of what to do.

His gloved hand slides up to cup the side of your neck as he breaks the kiss, looking at you with low eyes. “First kiss, hm?” He murmurs, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip.

“You wish.” You mutter, looking away from him. You can’t help though as your breath hitches, feeling his thumb against your bottom lip.

“Ah, feisty aren’t you? Yet here you are, at my mercy.” He grins, sliding his hand to grab the back of your neck, tugging you closer so you’re pressed flush against him. You gasp at the movement, your own hand coming up to grab at his forearm, gripping onto the expensive fabric.

“Quite pretty too…it’s too bad you make such stupid decisions..” He murmurs before capturing your lips once again, his free hand grabbing your hip gently and pulling you closer against him while his other hand stays on the back of your neck, massaging the skin with his thumb.

You slowly feel your resolve crumble, the line between circumstances and your own free will starting to blur as you lean more into the kiss, your hands sliding up to grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them slightly.

You feel his hand trailing down your spine to your lower back, splaying his hand out and gently pushing you forward so you press against him more firmly.

You sigh shakily against his lips, letting your body press more against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He groans softly, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips before gently slipping into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours while his hands slip to your hips, grabbing them and pulling your hips against his, his leg gently nudging between yours.

You gasp into the kiss when he pulls your hips against his, your fingers starting to tangle in his blonde hair as you kiss him with more urgency, pressing your chest flush against his as you tilt your head opposite to his, further deepening the kiss as you whine softly.

He nips at your lower lip with his teeth, leaving a stinging pain behind before soothing it with his tongue, making you gasp shakily in response. “You're so needy,” He muses, starting to trail wet kisses and love-bites along your jawline and down your neck while his hands squeeze your hips firmer.

He bunches the part of your dress that's by your hips in his hands, letting it ride up your legs before he nudges his thigh up between them, pressing against your most sensitive spot. You leg out a shuddering moan before moving your hand to cover your mouth.

He pulls away to look at you, his once brutal gaze turned to one clouded with lust. “Don't cover your mouth sweetheart,” He coos, his voice lower and throaty but still holding that same condescending tone as he leans in and you can swear you hear the smirk in his voice when he whispers in your ear. “I want to hear those pitiful, little moans you make.”

Right after saying that, his grip tightens on your hips as he starts to move you, guiding you to grind against his thigh while he sucks and nips at your neck; leaving dark spots behind that feel hot on your skin. You let out a broken moan in response, your arms wrapping around his neck tighter while you bury your face into his shoulder. Fingers digging into his clothed upper back while you gasp and whimper, starting to move your hips along with his guidance.

At this point you can feel how embarrassingly wet you are, the insides of your thighs slick and your panties aren’t faring any better, practically drenched at this point.

You hear him let out a breathy laugh as you start to move your hips on your own. He runs his tongue along your neck to your earlobe before nipping it. “Fuck youre soaked..i can feel it through my pants..” He murmurs into your ear as he starts to move your hips faster against his thigh. “These were expensive too..are you going to pay for the cleaning or am i gonna have to add this to your debt..?” He smirks, running his tongue along the shell of your ear.

You whine in response, knowing that any words that might come out your mouth will just sound like gibberish.

You start to ride his thigh faster, trying to get to the edge as soon as possible. He groans in your ear softly as he feels you move faster, his hands tightening around your hips with a bruising grip as he laves his tongue along the sensitive skin of your neck.

Your thighs start to twitch as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, the pressure in your lower stomach building quickly as your moans and movements get needier. Aventurine starts to trail kisses down your neck to your collarbone, his left hand leaving your hip to reach up and tug the straps of your dress off your shoulders, causing your dress to slack and fall.

He tugs the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts from the confines of your clothes, causing you to shudder as you feel the cold air of the room hit your breasts. He smirks and raises a brow, looking at you with blown pupils when he sees that you're not wearing a bra, his left hand sliding down your shoulder to cup one of your breasts, his gloved hand squeezing and massaging while he leans down, dragging his tongue along your breast before nipping the swell of it, making you gasp.

“So fucking pretty…” He groans before capturing your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardening bud before sucking harshly. He presses his thigh against you more firmly, drawing out a moan he finds oh-so pretty.

You rut your hips against his thigh faster, feeling like the building pressure in your abdomen is going to burst at any second.

A whimper bubbles in your throat as you feel his lips latch onto your breast while his hand fondles your breast, making you shiver and whine as you flutter your eyes shut and toss your head back slightly. One of your hands slides up to tangle in his hair, tugging at the blonde strands as you push his face further into your chest.

He groans against your nipple as he feels you tugging his hair, taking it as a sign of encouragement. He nips at your sensitive bud with his teeth, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He soothes the sting as he flattens his tongue, dragging it along your nipple, looking up at you with low lidded eyes.

Your breathing grows ragged as you get closer to your release, hips bucking against his thigh needily while lewd gasps and moans fall from your lips, Your fingers tighten in his hair as you mumble breathlessly, eyes watering as you crack them open. “I…ah…m’gonna…” You sob, words nearly incoherent as you feel the pressure in your stomach ready to burst.

“Hm? What’d you say? Use your words, sweetheart…” He coos teasingly, sliding his hand down from your breast to the spot between your legs, just barely touching your clit through your panties.His middle and ring fingers slowly starting to circle it, as his eyes flick up to your face with a wicked smirk gracing his lips.

You can’t muster out a thing as he starts to barely circle your clit through your panties while his thigh stays pressed against your cunt. You let out a pitiful sob as you buck your hips, grinding against his thigh as you desperately chase your orgasm.

“Hah…m…m’gonna cum...” You whimper, gasping and sobbing as you get ever so closer to your impending high.

“Ah...you're gonna cum, huh? Come on, pretty, cum on my thigh...” Aventurine hums, leaning up to press his lips to your throat as he starts to circle your clit faster, quickly bringing you to the edge.

You let out a broken moan as you feel your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Your hips squirming as your thighs twitch and shake slightly. Your fingers tug at his hair roughly as you try to ground yourself as you grow dizzy and your body feels warm and fuzzy.

Your arousal leaks out of you, drenching anything in its path. Your thighs grow sticky and Aventurine’s pants are getting drenched as you cum, shuddering gasps and whines falling from your lips.

Aventurine smirks as he looks up at you, seeing the blissed out expression on your face as you reach your high makes him grow even harder in his slacks. Straining against the zipper of his pants. His fingers continue to circle your sensitive nub, cooing sweet praises in your ear and peppering kisses your warm cheeks as he works you through your orgasm.

“Mh...you’re so messy...” He murmurs into your ear, his voice low and hushed as he speaks. “Just look at what you’ve done, beautiful...” He pulls back, free hand coming up you clasp around your jaw as he tilts your head down, making you look at the sticky mess you’ve made.

His thigh is soaked. His white pant-leg sticks to the top of his thigh, wet with your arousal. You whine when you feel him pull his fingers away from your fabric covered cunt.

He hums softly as he spreads his fingers apart, sticky webs of your cum spreading between his gloved fingers that shine with your slick and you can’t help but gasp at the sight.

“I didn’t know you’d make such a mess, now my pants are ruined…” he chortles, his hand that’s gripping your jaw squeezes your cheeks together, causing your lips to puff out to a cute pout as you whine.

“How are you going to pay me back, sweetheart? Hm?” He tilts your face up to his, his gaze intense as he stares you in the eyes, wearing a smug grin.

“I dont…I don’t know...” You babble, your eyes a reflection of your neediness and lust as you look up at him. Your breathing still ragged and hindered.

“Mhm…I have an idea,” Aventuring sneers, looking down at you with a condescending smirk. “How about you clean it up, sweetheart…?”

He brings his slick coated fingers up to your lips while his other hand that was once gripping your jaw moves to grasp your chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

He drags his gloved digits across your lips, smearing your arousal on them. “Open up.” He coos, gently pushing his fingers between your lips and into your mouth.

You part your lips more, letting him push his fingers further into your mouth. You whine as you taste yourself off his fingers, feeling dirty for doing this but you can’t help but enjoy it, fluttering your eyes shut as you willingly take his fingers into your mouth.

His smirk grows wider as he watches you take his fingers into your mouth. He pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag slightly. “Suck them, pretty girl…” He breathes, pressing his fingers down against the flat of your tongue.

You close your lips around his fingers, starting to suck them slowly. You swirl your tongue around his fingers, moaning softly at the taste of your arousal in your tongue.

“Uh huh, just like that…” He coos, his hand that was holding your chin sliding to the back of your neck, cupping it as he pulls back to look at you. “Such a good girl…”

He slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his gloved digits as he smirks down at you.

He snickers, looking at your flushed face. “God, you’re just a mess, aren’t you?” His hand that’s on the back of your neck tugs you towards him, his lips brushing against yours as he tilts his head, looking at you with lidded eyes.

“I’ll fix that…” He murmurs before pressing his lips to yours. His lips are soft and pillowy as they move against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his gloved hand slides down to your hips, grasping tightly while his thumbs trace small circles against them.

You sigh shakily as he kisses you, arms sliding up to wrap around his neck as you tug him closer, whimpering into his mouth as he tightens his grip on your hips, dressing bunching up in his hands as he firmly pressing his hips to yours.

He starts to walk you backwards to your bed, keeping your body close while never breaking the kiss. You feel the back of your legs hit the bed before he’s pushing you back onto the bed. He climbs on top of you, straddling you as he keeps up his feverish kisses.

You wrap your legs around his hips, locking your ankles together behind his lower back, whining into his mouth and letting your tongue slide with his as you kiss him needily.

Aventurine breaks the kiss, moaning softly as he starts grinding his hips against yours, rubbing against you so perfectly you whimper and arch your back against his body.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, lips latched to the soft skin as he sucks a dark spot to the skin of your neck.

His hand slides up and under you, lifting you slightly as his hand finds the zipper of your dress, his other hand moving to the middle of your back, lifting you up more to make it easier as he unzips your dress.

He unzips your dress, slowly sliding the zippier down, causing your dress to slack. “May I..?” He whispers against your neck, eyes peering up at you.

You nod sheepishly, looking away to avoid his blazing gaze. He grins, hands sliding down to the hem of his dress, pulling it down and off your body, discarding the fabric somewhere on the floor.

He sits up to look at you, taking in the sight of your half-naked body, your panties the only thing left on.

He lets out a shaky breath, gloved hands sliding up your lower stomach. One of his hands slides to your waist, squeezing the soft skin there while the other moves up to cup your breast, caressing the soft flesh there.

“So fucking gorgeous…can’t take my eyes off you..” His voice sounds shaky and breathy, his hips shifting to press against you harder, letting you feel how turned on he is.

You gasp at the feeling of his gloved hands all over your body, caressing and groping you as you lie beneath him, biting your bottom lip to quiet whatever pitiful moans that threaten to fall from your lips.

He starts to grind himself against you, the bulge in his pants pressing against your sensitive clit covered by your drenched panties.

He moans, sounding pretty and whiny as he leans in to bury his face in your neck, his hand starting to roll your nipple between his thumb and forefinger all while he ruts his hips against you, desperate to feel you.

“You feel so good… ” He mumbles, his tongue licking at previous marks he’s left on your neck. You moan desperately, hands clutching at the fabric of his jacket, pulling and tugging.

You need him so badly, body trembling with each roll of his hips, you only feel more desperate and needy. You whine as you feel his tongue lavish your neck, your legs wrapping around him tightly.

“Ah…I need you…so bad…” Words a breathy whisper as you grow more needy for him. You start to move your hips in tandem with his, whining shakily.

He pulls away from your neck, nuzzling his cheek against yours as he whispers. “Tell me what you want…I’ll give it to you…” His words a shaky rasp as his hands squeeze your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples.

You can barely get the words out, everything coming from your lips a breathless mumble. “I need you inside me…please…”

Hearing your words something in him snaps, turning off any critical thinking that’s wired in his brain. “I’ll give you it. I’ll give you everything you want…”

His hands slide down your body to the waistband of your panties, teasingly slipping his fingers under the hem before slowly dragging your panties down your legs while starting to trail kisses down your neck to your collarbone, nipping at the skin there.

You let out shuddering breaths as he teases you, purposely dragging on the removal of your panties. You moan and whimper as he trails kisses along the heated skin of your neck down to your collarbone, a shaky gasp escaping your lips as you feel his teeth nipping at the exposed skin there.

You let out a sigh of needy relief as he finally pulls your panties off, tossing them to the floor, presumably by your dress.

He pulls away from you once again, eyeing you more hungrily than before as he looks at your naked body, taking in the sight, trying to further memorize every curve of your body.

He starts to pull off his jacket, tossing it onto the recliner he was sitting on earlier. You’d roll your eyes at how he’s taking more care with his clothes than yours, but clearly, it’s the last thing on your mind right now.

He gazes down at you, eyes catching sight of your glistening folds. He reaches out, dragging a gloved digit along your slit teasingly. “You’re so wet, it’s cute.” He smirks, his words coming out breathily. The smoothness of his voice is gone, replaced with a tone of need and lust.

“You want me here? Wanna feel me inside you…? Tell me.” He sighs, tilting his head slightly as he pushes two of his fingers inside of you, hazed eyes watching how your cunt swallows his fingers up so easily.

You gasp and buck your hips as you feel his fingers slide inside you, your walls clamping down on his digits as he starts to slowly thrust them inside you, his thumb moving to circle your clit.

You whine and shake your head, looking up at him with needy eyes clouded with lust. “I don’t…want your fingers…” You mumble between shaky gasps. “I want…I need you.”

Aventurine can’t help but wear a smirk on his lips, just the sight of you so needy, practically begging beneath him has him reeling and the thing is, you don’t even know how badly he needs you.

“Okay, gorgeous...” He murmurs, slowly pulling his fingers out of you, leaving with an empty feeling in your lower stomach that’ll soon be satiated. “I’ll give you just what you want.”

Aventurine pulls away, letting out a shuddering breath as his hands slide down, deftly unbuckling his belt, the clinking of the metal ringing in your ears as you watch him.

After getting his belt unbuckled he quickly unzips his pants, tugging them down just enough to let him pull himself from the confines of his clothing.

He lets out a shaky sigh as he frees himself, and in that moment you realize how desperate he really is for you.

You can’t help but shamelessly stare at his length, it’s lengthy and pretty with it’s tip flushed pink; practically oozing precum as it twitches. It’s a sight for sore eyes.

Aventurine hisses as he strokes himself, his thumb running over his tip, collecting the precum to smear on his shaft.

He glances up at you, raising a brow when he sees how you’re eyeing him. “Like what you see…?” He grins, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that barely lasts a second before he’s pulling away again, gazing down at you.

“I do…” You sigh, hand reaching out to gently wrap around his length. You slowly start to slide your hand up and down his shaft.

Aventurine gasps softly, his face nuzzling into your neck as you stroke him slowly. “God…you’re killing me…” He mumbles, his hands sliding up to your hips, wrapping around them. “Let me feel you…” He kisses you again, this time it’s needy and a bit sloppy, devoid of any sense of restraint.

You moan softly into the kiss, hand gliding along his cock. He whines into your mouth, his hands squeezing your hips even tighter as his hips buck into your hand in time with your strokes.

After a minute he breaks the kiss, panting as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. One of his hands moves to where your hand is, gently pushing your hand away. “I don’t need any of that...” He says simply, his voice low and quiet.

“…You sure?” You whisper, hands sliding up his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his expensive clothes under your fingertips. “I want to.”

You want to touch him, even though you hate him? Do you even hate him anymore? Has your opinion on him really changed so much just from this moment? He used to scare you but now you’re yearning for him… Have you really lost your common sense?

You bury these thoughts in the back of your head, saving them for yourself later when you finally have to face the reality of your actions right now.

He shakes his head, pressing a wet kiss to the side of your neck before nipping your skin. “I don’t need you to touch me, beautiful.”

He sits up, his face flushed and hair a mess. His gloved hands slide up your legs and to your thighs as he hums, gazing down at you with intense eyes. His hands travel to your inner thighs, gently pushing them open as he shifts to position himself between your legs.

Aventurine drags a gloved finger up your slit teasingly, making you whine and shift your hips. “Stop teasing already…” You mumble, brows furrowed as you look up with a slight pout on your face.

He laughs softly as your expression, a smug look playing on his face. “Don’t worry sweetheart, just wanted a taste…” He murmurs before bringing his finger to his lips, licking your arousal off the digit as he gazes down at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath hitches as you watch him do this, feeling yourself get impossibly more wet than before. You feel your cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment. “Don’t look at me while you do that…” You mutter, slightly turning your head to look away from him.

“Don’t be so shy,” He smirks, suddenly regaining the steadiness in his voice, not sounding as shaky and whiny as before. “You taste sweet.” He murmurs, as he grabs your legs, moving them to wrap around his waist. “I’ll taste you more next time…”

You furrow your brows, looking up at him with crooked eyebrows. “There won’t be a next time.”

Aventurine looks at you, a smug smile on his face. “We’ll see.”

You don’t bother to respond with any other smart-ass comment or a remark, choosing to focus on what’s happening in the moment.

He leans in more, one of his hands grabbing your thigh while the other wraps around his length. He rubs his tip along your drenched folds, making you whimper and whine, hips squirming against his hold.

His hand tightens its grip on your hip, silently urging you to hold still. He rolls his hips forwards, grinding his cock against your slick cunt, teasingly rubbing his swollen tip against your clit as he looks at you with a smirk.

You moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his length sliding against you, pressing against your clit instead of where you need him right now. “...Just...fucking…” You mumble, cracking your eyes open to look up at him, seeing him stare down at you with lust.

“Just what? I’m not a mind reader, doll.” He hums, shifting his hips slightly so that his tips pressing against your entrance. “Let me guess...You want me here, yeah? Want me inside you…?” He coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your jawline. “Tell me, pretty…you don’t wanna keep waiting, do you?”

You whine and shake your head, whimpering as you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. “P..please…put it in…” You gasp, eyes low and lidded as you look up at him, a needy look on your face.

“There you go… Wasn’t hard to use your words, now was it..?” He murmurs, nipping at your earlobe as he presses his hips forward, slowly pressing his cock inside you.

You gasp as you feel him pressing into you, slowly stretching you wider. Your arms move to wrap around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder.

He slides in inch by inch, groaning softly as he feels the warmth of your walls hug his cock tightly, squeezing and pulsing around him needily.

You clutch onto him tightly while panting, feeling the sting of the stretch when he finally bottoms out, his cock buried deep inside you, top of his cock nudging against your cervix.

He holds still for a moment, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he waits for you to get used to his size. “You’re so tight…it’s must’ve been awhile, hm?” He murmurs into your ear, you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers to you. “How’s long it’s been, sweetheart…?”

He starts to roll his hips forward, slowly thrusting into you with long strokes. “Do you not wanna tell me, pretty girl…?” He hums, running his tongue up, along your neck before nipping at the skin of your jawline.

You whine as he starts to thrust into you, soft moans falling from your lips as you flutter your eyes shut. “I..I don’t know…” You mutter, voice shaky as you speak. “It’s been too long…few years…”

You don’t want to admit it but it’s been well over a few weeks or months. Not having sex since you still lived in Belobog…

He grins at this, feeling smug at the thought of him being first in a long time, and he can tell just by how you’re acting, moaning with each slow drag of his hips, clutching onto him tightly and squeezing around his length like a vice, when he’s barely fucked you yet… It’s now feeling very obvious to him you haven’t felt like this in awhile.

He hums softly, his gloved hands sliding to your hips, grasping them tightly. “Then I guess I’ll have to screw you real good, huh?”

He starts to speed up his movements, pulling your hips along with his, rolling his hips into you at a pace that’s just perfect.

You whimper, hands grasping at the back of his shirt as you feel him thrust into you deeper and harder, soft smacks filling the room from your hips slapping against his.

He groans against your neck, one of his hands sliding up to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly as he grinds into you. “You feel so good...” He mumbles, teeth nipping at your shoulder while you moan and gasp.

You whine as you feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat, squeezing hard enough to make your face feel warm but gently enough you can still breathe.

Your legs wrap around his hips, locking at the ankle as you pull him closer to you, desperate to feel him deeper inside you.

Aventurine moans shakily as he feels your legs wrap around him tightly, urging him closer. He starts to speed his pace up more, fighting the urge to slam into you with all of his strength.

His hand on your hip pulls you in tandem with his thrusts, hips meeting his halfway as he thrusts into you, feeling your walls twitch around his length.

Lewd noises escape your lips as you feel him pull you along with his movements. You feel him shift his hips before starting to slam into you harder.

You let out a loud gasp, feeling his tips slamming against your g-spot. You tighten your arms and legs around him, practically holding onto him for dear life as he smirks down at you.

“Right there, huh?” He sneers, starting to pound into your harder, slamming against your sweet spot over and over as you squirm and sob, gasping for air as you feel his hand tighten around your throat.

He pulls away to look at you more directly, smirking down at you as his lust filled eyes stare down at you. “You’re so pretty like this…” He sighs, his hand sliding from your throat to squeeze your breast, groping it roughly as he continues to pound into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix as you sputter and gasp beneath him.

You feel the knot in your lower abdomen start to tighten and twist, signaling you to your impending orgasm.

You look up at him with teary eyes and a blissed out expression, your hands moving to clutch at the bedsheets as you sob and whimper. The feeling of him slamming against your cervix while his hand squeezes your breast before his thumb rolls over your nipple, making your eyes flutter shut and your walls squeeze him tighter.

He drags his hand down from your breast to your waist, squeezing the plush skin as he uses it as leverage to thrust into you even harder, loud, wet smacking sounds filling your ears as you moan louder, pushing your head back into the mattress, arching your lower back as you feel the cord in your abdomen about to snap.

Aventurine suddenly slows down his movements, smirking down at you as he watches your face shift to a needy pout, eyes squeezing shut as you sob from the burning feeling of your orgasm being halted so abruptly.

“Not yet, pretty girl…” He murmurs, sitting up to pull off his shirt, revealing his fit torso, albeit a bit skinny he has the build of a swimmer, which you find attractive. He tosses the shirt next to his jacket before returning his attention to you.

He hums as he slides his gloved hands down to your thighs, squeezing them before moving to cup under your knees, pushing them up so their level with your shoulders.

Aventurine slowly starts to build up the pace again, leaning it to press his forehead to yours, letting your ankles dangle over his shoulders.

This position feels like he’s somehow even deeper inside you. His fat tip grazing your g-spot with each thrust. You moan and gasp louder, head feeling light and hazy as he pounds into you, wet slaps emanating throughout the room with each thrust.

He leans in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue running over your lips before his tongue sweeps into your mouth, sliding with yours as he groans against your lips…

His hands move to nudge your legs off his shoulders , letting them wrap around his hips once again. “You…feel…amazing…” He mumbles between kisses, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands slide under you, up your back and to your shoulders, his hands gently grabbing them as he pulls you close against his chest.

You moan into his mouth, his lips on yours as he swallows your sounds. You move one of your arms to wrap around his neck, holding him close while the other one slides under his arm to his upper back, hands slightly scratching at the skin there.

He continues to slam into you with reckless abandon, ditching whatever self control he may have had to fuck you how he-so desperately-is doing.

He groans as his hips pound against yours, wet slaps and lewd moans coming from the both of your lips as you both feel your orgasms building.

You let out pretty sobs against his lips, nails digging into his upper back, leaving crescent marks and scratches on the fair skin as your hips buck along with his hard thrusts, desperately chasing your orgasm.

Aventurine isn’t faring any better, whining and groaning into your mouth as he slams into you harder and faster, feeling your walls pulse around his twitching cock, basically signaling him of your nearing orgasm.

He breaks the kiss, burying his face into your neck as he moans softly, one of his hands sliding up to grasp the back of your neck while the other squeezes your shoulder tighter.

“m’...close...” You sob, clutching onto him as tightly as possible as you feel your eyes water from pleasure, head hazy and body fuzzy.

“Yeah? Me too, sweetheart…” He rasps, his hand slipping from your under shoulder to slide between your sweat slicken bodies, gloved hand finding your clit, his thumb rubbing harsh, little circles against it. “Go ahead, cum on my cock, gorgeous...”

His pace speeds up even further, slamming against your sweet spot over and over as he works to push you over the edge, his lips pressing against your neck.

You let out a loud, whiny sob as you feel the cord in your stomach snap, orgasm washing over you.

Your head feels lightheaded as pleasure clouds your senses, hips bucking and walls spasming around his cock while your juices spill out of you, covering his shaft and your inner thighs. Your body twitching against his as pitiful whines and gasps fall from your lips.

He falls over the edge immediately after you, his cock twitching inside you before he abruptly pulls out, spilling his seed all over your lower stomach as he groans against your neck, his hand squeezing the back of your neck as his hips buck against you, rutting his twitching cock against your lower stomach.

You hold onto him tightly as you both come down from your orgasms, staying in each-others arms. Panting and shuddering breaths are the only things you can hear.

After a few minutes, Aventurine sits up, gazing down at you as he looks at the mess you’ve both made, a small grin appearing on his pretty face. “Guess we’re both messy, huh..?” He murmurs, sliding his hands down your side to your hips.

You don’t respond to him directly, mumbling some random insult as you lift your arms to cover your face.

He can’t help but stare, looking down at your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, looking completely fucked out.

He hums softly, pulling away from you. “Where you going...?” You mumble, watching him stand up and start to pull his pants up from the corner of your eyes.

“To grab something…” He replied, glancing at you from over his shoulder as he buckles belt before walking to your bathroom.

You sit in a bit of a daze, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how things are gonna play out now the IPC now that you’ve fucked one their higher ups. What excuse is Aventurine gonna make for your debt? Is he even going to actually get rid of it for you?

God, you’re an idiot.

You’re about to smack yourself in the forehead when Aventurine comes back into the room with a wet towel.

“Erm….what’s...that for?” You ask tiredly, rubbing the back of your neck with your palm as you glance away from him.

“You’re stomach, sweetheart.” He hums, nodding down at your stomach, covered with his seed.

“Oh...nice…” You mumble, watching as he sits across from you on the bed, leaning in as he starts to wipe the sticky mess from your stomach.

It’s quiet between the two of you, it’s awkward but not unbearable. “Thank you..” You say softly, as he finishes wiping the seed from off of you.

He smiles slightly. “I made the mess..why wouldn’t I clean it up?” He hums, tossing the towel somewhere onto the floor.

You shrug in response before yawning, covering your mouth with your hand. Aventurine looks at you, a small smirk on his lips. “You’re quite pretty, y’know...” He tilts his head slightly as he looks at you, eyebrows raised slightly as he looks at you.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you look away, a bit embarrassed. “Mhm…thank you...” you mumble, scooting closer to him you place your hand over his, thumb rubbing over his gloved knuckles. “Are you staying…?”

Your question catches him off guard, a surprised look spreading on your face for a second before a grin spreads on his face. “I’ll stay if you want me to, pretty...” He hums, his hands moving to gently grab your waist, pulling you closer. “I want you to...”

“Okay gorgeous..I’ll stay..”

You don’t know when you fell asleep but you did. His arms wrapped around you while you cuddled up against him.

You didn’t expect him to stay, it was only a one night stand but you didn’t expect…this.

When you woke up you found everything in your hotel room tidy and neat, like he cleaned everything up for you before leaving.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes as you slid out of bed, walking to where your things were arranged neatly.

You bent down, starting to look for the briefcase that held your money.

You started to grow frantic when you couldn’t find it, not in any drawers, on any counters or with any of your things.

You stomped around, tearing the room apart until you crouched down to look under the bed, where it was shoved far under to where you can barely reach.

You groan as you drag it out from under the bed, standing it and placing it onto the bed as you flick the clasps and open the briefcase.

Your stomach drops.

Your fucking heart drops.

Your eyes widen and your jaw clenches, all the money that was in there gone, down to the penny.

You feel your face grow hot as you look at what’s been left in the box, a single, small note. Picking up the small paper you grow more angered, face scrunching to a scowl as you read the note’s contents.

Thank you for the night, as promised your debt is erased and the IPC will no longer have you listed as a fugitive but I took your money as a consequence for not initially paying your debt.

Actions have consequences, sweetheart. Be more smart next time.

-- Aventurine..

Fucking bastard. You might just kill him if you see his face again.

ty for reading sweethearts!! and thank you to my lovely friend who gave me suggestions and proofread this big'ol thing :p

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