#its not like this was a one night stand this is what i thought was genuine friendship

[cherry-leclerc]

star-crossed ☆ mv1

genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut

word count: 9.1k

Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, fingering

inspired by this !

cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)

The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick. 

White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth. 

Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”

“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head. 

The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”

“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend. 

“Any more guesses?”

“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”

The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”

“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples. 

“September 4, 2022.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“You said it would be warm!”

Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—

“Should I just come back later or…”

Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away. 

And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”

Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”

It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry. 

“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”

His smile slips away. “Sorry?”

“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.

But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”

When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you. 

Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”

“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”

You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”

The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”

-

“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”

-

“She really said that?” 

Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”

“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty. 

Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain. 

“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”

Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”

Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”

“Oh! Hi!”

His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“New?”

Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”

“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”

You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”

A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”

The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”

“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.” 

“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.

You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”

His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”

A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.��

Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”

-

“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”

“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”

Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”

-

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“I’m not a quitter.”

“There we go!”

“But he makes me want to quit.” “Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”

And he does. 

It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup. 

“You look—”

“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”

He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”

“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?” 

Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”

And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”

With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”

“Yeah—and what’s another?”

His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”

“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”

His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”

Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”

 The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”

“Ah—is my ban lifted?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

-

“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”

Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”

-

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“Nepo-Baby?”

You hum. “They all are.”

Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”

You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”

Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest. 

“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”

“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”

Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same. 

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Been hiding from you.”

“Seems like. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Probably.”

You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”

“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”

“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.

But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down. 

“R-right—her.”

-

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”

“Great…”

“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”

“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”

“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”

-

“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”

“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”

“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”

He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.” 

“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”

-

Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

“Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”

“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites. 

Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches. 

Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”

And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose. 

-

“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”

-

Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)

“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair. 

With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”

“No.”

“Well, two—”

Green paints her face. “No.”

“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”

“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”

“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”

You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”

Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”

“Yes—”

“For a million different reasons—”

“I-I’m aware,” you stutter. 

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. 

And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago. 

Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”

“Done.”

For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled. 

“Are those your panties?”

-

“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—” 

“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring. 

She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”

Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”

A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.” 

-

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him. 

“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm. 

“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”

Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”

“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?” 

Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”

You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince. 

Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.

Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”

-

“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—

“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”

Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”

“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.” “...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful. 

“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.

The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter. 

“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her. 

“Crap—you smell like shit.”

The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”

A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes. 

“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”

“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”

Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”

The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”

A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”

And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…

He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”

The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”

In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”

Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”

And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” 

-

“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder. 

“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”

“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker. 

The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.

“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“You.”

“Me?”

You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”

Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”

An eye roll. “Douche.”

He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt. 

“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”

“Oh no. How many did you drink?”

Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”

The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”

“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”

His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really.” 

“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”

“Why?”

A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”

You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”

“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

-

Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”

You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”

Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment. 

He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”

“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”

“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.” 

“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”

He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves. 

“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”

“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”

He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too. 

Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

He hums. “What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

-

“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”

“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.

Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look. 

“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."

“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively. 

Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”

You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”

As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.

Or so you thought.

“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”

“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment. 

The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.

“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”

-

“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”

The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”

Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”

“I don’t.”

“Well too bad, I’m going to.”

-

“Yeah. You already said that.”

Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance. 

“Hey!”

He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”

A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”

He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”

His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”

You groan. “Max.”

He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”

-

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

 “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”

“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.

Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”

You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.” 

Green eyes glare down, playfully.

-

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”

As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”

The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!”

You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”

“Nepo-Baby?”

Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”

“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”

A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—

“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”

Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”

Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”

“Hm. No. More like green apple.”

She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”

“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”

-

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles. 

She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”

“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”

Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all. 

She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”

-

Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces. 

“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”

Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”

A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”

Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”

The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”

“Well—”

“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”

“So, so. Yourself?”

“Good. Refreshed.” 

“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”

The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”

His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”

Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”

The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”

“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”

A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”

Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”

The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.

“See you on track.”

-

Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”

Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”

“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”

“I never meant any harm—”

“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”

Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”

And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”

You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”

-

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”

“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”

He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”

You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”

“That you love him.”

“I do love him—”

He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”

“You’re sick."

“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.” 

You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”

Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?” 

“Maybe, but who cares?” 

And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more. 

-

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”

“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”

The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he confirms. 

“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily. 

“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”

Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.” 

“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh. 

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

-

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”

And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”

You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside. 

 “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

-

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

 “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

“What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”

You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”

He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”

A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”

He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”

Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”

“I am not a cheater.”

You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”

He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”

You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”

Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”

Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”

“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”

“Okay, stop—”

“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”

“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”

He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”

“Max…”

He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time. 

“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”

And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out. 

“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”

-

“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”

Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”

The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”

“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”

“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”

“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”

“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pierre hums. “Mate?”

Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.

Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.

Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.

But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.

“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”

“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”

“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”

So, with neat brown drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder. 

“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.” 

“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth. 

Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back. 

“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”

“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”

“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”

It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.” 

So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along. 

He gave his speech last.

He was the footnote.

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[undercoverpena]

i’d look for you

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din offers you something else in a field of wildflowers

warnings: 18+, allusion to smut ONLY. soft!din. idiots who have feelings but don't know what to do with them. jo's writing din so it gets weirdly poetic again. wordcount: 2k notes: pairing is the same as other din fics by me. but don’t need to read to enjoy. written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna Challenge - this fic has made me smile so much, I hope it does the same for you.

“Can you do something for me?”

The question hangs, burns, in the air of his bed. Your eyes blinking awake, having been roused from slumber by his gloved hand on your cheek.

You’re aware he’s waiting, biting the inside of your cheek, as you nod.

Swallowing the longer answer which burns on your tongue, finding it now tastes of acid and wrongness, having been trapped inside for so long, having let it overstay its welcome.

You suspect he knows it all anyway. Likely as easily able to read you, as you are him. Able to hear the words you don’t say, just from the way you stare at him, like a written passage all on its own.

He helps you up, but doesn’t hurry you. You almost smirk at the purposeful, cautious touches on your side, trailing his gloved hand along the curve of your back as he leads you to the refresher, awakening thoughts more sinful than you suspect is his intention.

It’s then he tells you the time, but shares nothing else about why the ship is quiet.

“What about—”

“He’s asleep.”

Your mouth clamps shut, taking the clothes he hands you as you bury the rest of the questions. Each piece you slide on, you don’t shy away as he stands waiting. Letting him stare, letting him take in the sight of you in more light than he can when your bodies usually writhe.

Are you admiring me, Din? you want to ask. Do you feel the invisible string between us too?

Sometimes, you dislike that he told you the shade of his eyes, because you look for them. Peer through the visor with more hope than you’d allowed yourself to have before.

“Can you turn around?”

It should sound like a command, but his tone is softer, more brittle. Something unspoken within it, tightening around each letter, bending and forging with it—likely things he’ll never admit.

Still, you obey. Closing your eyes as you feel him behind you, his presence crowding and looming—recollecting when he’d been barer than he is now, draped over you.

If you will it enough, you swear you can feel his breath fluttering over your shoulder—remembering how he makes you feel full and sated, content and happy. The last time, you’d been in a haze, fucked out, blissfully aware of the naked fingers resting at the base of your neck as you came down and the way he had tilted your head back and swallowed your whine like he knew it belonged to him.

You do, you think, belong to him.

Not because he has taken, but because he has earned—he has proven. A thing which rises to the tip of your tongue and sears alongside the other words which linger and ferment.

“Trust me,” he says.

Not a question, but an ask. And you don’t mean to, but an unintentional gasp escapes at the feel of the soft, smooth fabric when it slides over your eyes. Light fades as though he clicks his fingers, blanketing you in night in the middle of the day as it tightens around your head—rendering you quiet, shyer, almost smaller, as your sense is removed, willingly given but taken all the same.

Then you stand, breath hitching, anticipation threading through your veins as you wait. For him to move, to speak, to do. Each second stretches into eternity, making a protest wish to appear. A change of mind, a declaration of wishing to do something else, than this.

But, you don’t speak it. Instead, dancing your fingers against the tops of your thighs, waiting, not patiently, but not rushing.

“Relax.”

You snort to smother the shiver that darts down your spine at his voice.

Unsure how one does such a thing when you hear the ramp going down, subtly listening to the sound of water running. You feel lost, adrift in a sea of darkness—of nothingness—with every fibre of your being yearning for a familiar anchor, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you fight the urge to whisper his name into the void, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the engulfing uncertainty.

Din, you think.

Wondering if he can hear his name in your mind. If he’ll come to your calling, hold your hand; allow you to ask if this is necessary, if this—

“Breathe.”

And you do.

Chest filling, lungs flooding—his gloved fingers sliding between your bare ones, rooting you as he repeats it. Calmness spreads through you inch by inch, in the same way he makes pleasure surge through your muscles.

He gives you a minute, a moment. Likely waiting until your head turns in the direction you think he’s in, before he leads, offering stony orders to be careful—one that almost makes you grin until your steps take your soles to meet something softer than his ship.

The smell greets you first. It’s crisp and sweet—unlike anything you’ve encountered. Then the drizzle, how it forces your clothing to bind to your skin in a way that should feel suffocating, but instead feels freeing. Lips beginning to stretch, teeth showing as your cheeks ache with the intensity of your grin.

It’s then you feel him move behind you, the squelch of his boots signifying it. His chest meets your spine, the ghost of his touch along the side of his neck, before you feel the fabric over your eyes, loosen and light begins to seep in.

Then, it goes from nothing to everything. It being almost too much to take in all at once—the unveiled surprise, the thing he’d wanted you to see in its wonder and not in pieces as you descended.

And—

“It’s beautiful.”

It being the delicate blooms that stretch out before you. Each one a mysterious burst of colour against a backdrop of greenery. Vibrant splashes of colour, all wild and free, rising from the ground like the scenes from books you used to read. With each sway and ripple in the breeze, you spot more flowers. All of them stirred by the falling rain, watching each motion, all in awe; lost for words.

Distantly, you become aware that he’s moved to the side of you, but you’re unable to tear your eyes from the world. Not able to take your sight from the striking array of hues, every colour flower you think you could ever imagine swaying. Because there are iridescent blues and purples; there are some that glow with luminous gold and reds that look stained with blood. Shares you can’t even name, but are drawn to, reluctant to steal your gaze until you spot another.

Fingers reaching out, knee bending, you touch one, find it softer, more delicate than you ever thought. Tears springing to your eyes, chest swarmed with warmth as you admire the way the stems twist and spiral in graceful arcs, all beaded with the sparkling mist that continues to fall.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…”

Words fail you, a thing you’re not sure he could ever believe.

The only conscious thought is that you wish to live amongst them. No words exist that can describe how serene you feel; how as wild or as drenched as the petals you admire.

Because it’s then you really notice the rain, coming to sit amongst the living and the flowers. Ground soaked with it, it falling in torrents. Each droplet is a percussion against your skin, seeping through the layers and soaking you to the bone.

It's a different kind of loveliness. It’s all free, raw and unyielding, a mosaic of shades that aren't bowing or converting into a glistening canvas of liquid silver—even if the skies try to.

In truth, you thought you’d seen rain. But this is something different.

It is more akin to the sky having been ripped open, split in two, cracked, all but pouring its tears upon the land in a symphony of water and wind. Your fingers dig into the dirt, feeling his equally soaked thigh press against yours as he joins you, feeling him watching, studying, even if you can't see his eyes.

“My mom used to say that a flower sprouts when a person leaves us,” you say, soft, barely your normal volume. “I always wondered where they did—I guess I know now.”

Shifting, you peel your sight from the flowers to see his legs extended, his body so close to yours. So much so, it would be easy to lean into it. Into him. To press your drenched clothing against his equally drowned frame, seek warmth, and take what he will offer you in the brightness of the day.

“Din,” you continue, tuning in to the gruff noise he makes for you to continue, as you move your shoulder closer.

His head turns, the front of his helmet facing you.

Allowing you to see a bead slide gracefully down the silver, moving like a serene symphony—as others fall, and then another. All being left by the sky above, weaving paths you wish to trace with your fingers.

You shouldn’t, but you want to wipe each away with your touch, rest your palms against the places his cheeks should be and will your hands to remember the warmth you know they can be.

“Can you remember the last time you felt the rain on your bare skin?”

Silence. Rain slides against leaves before rolling down to the soil below. The sound increases and decreases in odd waves as the storm tries to square itself against the sun, against the blossoms which rise like an army unwilling to cower.

“No.”

His reply is rough, croaked out through the modulator—caked in openness you’re not sure he wishes to show.

And, it makes a memory resurface. Sharp and clear. The first time you’d felt him unmasked, the vulnerability etched into his features—frame tense, rigid. Nervousness flowed through him as easily as the blood that races. How you’d kissed him, felt his cracked lips gain confidence against yours as his muscles rippled under your palms.

In a different way than then, you reached out, offered comfort—providing something you’re not sure he easily is given.

“A person could get lost here,” you sigh, the words practically tumbling out.

A stillness follows, one only punctuated by the rain. That is, until he shifts, until you hear him exhale, before adding, “Not you.”

Dragging your eyes from the landscape, you watch as more droplets slide and skate down his helmet, against his armour. Desperate to cling. It’s nothing but mesmerising, making him appear like he’s made of the sky. Reflections of the flowers there, muted shades mirroring.

“No?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just one. “Wouldn’t let you. I’d find you.”

Smirking, you turn back to the view. “You’re good at that—practically a professional.”

He allows a beat, lets your shoulder settle against him—the heels of your boots digging into the ground of this place, hoping a little bit clings on and comes with you.

“I’d look for you.”

Breaking your gaze from the flowers and the falling rain, you rest them on his helmet. On him. On the space you think the brown eyes he’s told you about are currently watching you.

It’s slow to appear, taking its time to spread up into your cheek as the implication of his words ring out. Look, not find; search but not hunt.

“I wouldn’t run to begin with.”

You feel it, the shift, slight tilt of his head at your words.

And you swear you hear him breathe good, light almost airy—before gloved fingers find their way between yours again. Soaked, sodden. But neither moving as seconds become minutes.

“Cyar'ika?”

You hum, preening, almost blooming under the name he’s just begun using. Nestling further against him, watching the flowers sway and turn in the rain before his gloved hands come in front of you—a bunch of flowers held out to you, offered, given.

“My hair is brown too.”

You smile, taking the bunch, bringing them to your nose. “That’s nice to know.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #din djarin fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x reader smut #pedro pascal fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x f!reader #jettsflora&faunachallenge #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

[hotpinkstars]

BORDER COLLIE - boothill x reader

- you, boothill, and your daughter spend a nice morning together, allthewhile you and your husband converse about a dog.

- i don't know why i made this i just thought it would be a fun little thing idk lol. i just had to add that little bit of jazz to the end bc like yk... idk anyways i'm trynna set myself on a better posting schedule and i think im starting off strong mmm enjoy

- all fluff, tiny mention of pregnancy at the very end, pre-cyborg boothill, his daughter is still alive here and everything is normal, wc 714

You were looking out the window, out at the vast amount of farmland you and your husband, Boothill, had decided to buy when he brought home the little girl you’re now able to call your daughter.

It was a nice, big place, suitable for animals of all kinds, and very family-friendly. You were currently watching your daughter play around with a baby goat that her father decided to bring out, a smile on all three of your faces. 

She seemed so happy, waddling around the goat, clapping her chubby little hands when the goat gave a soft little lick to her cheek. She had just learned how to walk, and had been able to say a few words for the past few months now. 

You walked out the back door, waving at Boothill before he waved his hand as a gesture to have you over by them. While you were walking over, you could hear your daughter shout “Goat! Goat! Cute goat!” While bobbing up and down with her legs and clapping her hands. It made you laugh a little bit before leaning into your husband's side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your arm up and down while supervising your daughter. 

“Dada!” She squealed, giggling. Boothill ruffled her hair before leaning down to give her a kiss on her forehead, making her giggle even more. “Dada and mama!”

You smiled wider than you thought you ever could have. You were so blessed to have Boothill as a husband, and such a special, precious girl as a daughter. 

“Well, we can’t really bring a goat in th’ house, n’ she seems to enjoy playin’ around with it a bunch…” Boothill said, standing next to you with his arms crossed. “What if we got a dog?”

“Really? A dog?” You looked up at him, and he nodded. “We have horses, goats, sheep, cows, and probably some reptiles living in the bushes. Do we really need more?”

He hummed. “The thing is, dogs can be domestic, hun. I got lucky this lil’ goat is so docile, good enough for her to be able to hang ‘round it without me having to worry ‘bout it taking her face off.”

“True. But we’d need a dog that can handle farmlife, not just any old dog. A boujee dog would not do very well in this type of setting. Keep that in mind.” 

He laughed before shaking his head. “Nah. I was thinkin’ more like a Border Collie or somethin’. I’d rather have one that's gonna make use of all this land.”

Your daughter came up to the both of you, lightly slapping at your legs to get your attention. You picked her up, giving Boothill a signal to go put the goat back in its respective area before meeting the two of you back inside.

A few moments later, when Boothill arrived back inside, you had lunch started, greeting him before he washed his hands and helping your daughter wash hers, too. He explained to her that she’s always to wash her hands before and after touching an ‘outside animal’ (as he calls it, so her itty bitty brain can comprehend it) otherwise she could get sick. He does the same, too. 

You set the table for lunch, putting some leftover salad and chicken on you and Boothills plates from last night. You gave your daughter some chicken too, but cut into very small squares, and strawberries instead of salad. 

The three of you sat down to eat, occasionally conversing about random things. She was too busy picking at her strawberries to notice your conversation, but you both still kept a close eye on her. 

“About the dog idea, are you sure?” You asked, your voice laced with some uncertainty. ‘I feel like we already have so much on our plate. Are you really willing to walk it every morning?”

“Well, o’course I am. I know what havin’ a dog is like, my dads always had one. I grew up around ‘em.” He takes another forkful of salad before going on. “But why’re ya so concerned? What else is stoppin’ ya from sayin’ yes?”

You smiled before laughing to yourself, leaving him temporarily confused. 

“Well, I want to hold off on the dog, because…

…I’m pregnant.”

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill #boothill x reader #fluff #x reader #x reader fluff #boothill fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail

[cindylcuwho]

“ sweetheart ★ ”

— ꒰ 💌 ꒱ drug dealer! matt x baker! reader

— ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ after a deal almost went sideways, matt decides to pay a quick visit to his sweet girl.

— ꒰ 🐁 ꒱ fluff ! making out.. tbh nothing really lol (but the ending😦). 1726 words.

— ꒰ ☁️ ꒱ erm i think this is my most boring fic ever 😜

what was only supposed to be a fast and easy twenty minute meetup turned into an hour long negotiation. matt had his jacket-covered back against a wall, hunched over as he coughed out strings of spit.

one of the guys he was supposed to meet was on the floor, a broken nose the was leaking deep red blood. his bottom lip quivered, closing against the upper one once the blood tried to make its way in his mouth.

matt watched intensely, eyes flickering up every now and then to make sure the other few men that let the sudden fight didn’t try anything. they held smirks on their faces, arms crossed as they stood tall.

“are you done?” the one on the far left rhetorically asked. matt glanced back to the guy on the floor before nodding, standing as straight as he could with his sore ribs.

his face crumpled into a snarl, “what the fuck was that?” he questioned, referring to what just happened. “we just wanted to test you.” one of them answered. “test me?” matt scoffed, “i could’ve killed him.”

“we know, but you didn’t.” the middle one shrugged, “you don’t live up to the family name, matthew.” before matt could respond, he continued, “we heard you were fearsome, someone that makes people shudder in fear at the mention.. and here you are letting a man that dared to take you on live.”

“thought he was one of your men, didn’t want to start anything neither of us could finish.” matt defended. “or.. you’ve gone soft.” the one on the right smiled, “word on the street is you’re wrapped around a girls finger, that true?”

matt immediately shook his head, holding a disgusted look, “i don’t know where you got that from but it’s a fuckin’ lie.”

“unless its straight from me dont believe shit.” the three guys gave matt a pointed look, but decided to not push it. “leave the package where you are and leave.” they commanded.

matt held out his hand for his payment before. the middle man rolled his eyes, stepping forward to place a wad of hundreds in his hand. he looked at the papers, doing quick mental math before leaning down and sliding the small box of goods to where he was standing.

“oh, and matt.. if we find out you lied, there will be a target on your lover.” one of them threatened, shooing him off as even more men walked in the room to pick up the bruised body that was still on the floor.

matt sucked in a breath, turning away and walking out the door. he contemplated in the car, he was well aware of how dangerous the life style he was living was, simply showing you were interested in him would have your life at risk and he just couldn’t do that to anybody.

but there was just something about you. he couldn’t stay away no matter how much he knows he should. you originally met when he had to hide from somebody and random the first building he saw; a small pink bakery building that he didn’t realize was in the process of cleaning for closing.

matt has never been told off in his life, but that night you scolded him for twenty minutes on how rude it was. the next morning he came by to buy a donut that seemed awfully delicious, and offered to take you to dinner as an apology.. who were you two refuse free food?

now what seemed like every night matt would swing by around the same time, almost every time half helping clean up and and half munching on the desserts that weren’t bought.

not breaking routine, even after the prominent threat, instead of making a left to drive to his well sized mansion, he made a right and quickly the familiar building was in his vision.

matt parked his car down the street, choosing to walk the rest of the way incase anybody was tracking the vehicle. he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the bakerys window, licking over the cut on his lip before treading inside and being hit with the overbearing smell of dough.

you were in the back, humming along to the taylor swift song playing as you washed the dirty pans, putting them on their respective drying wrack.

he watched from the doorframe, taking in the sight of how simple and innocent you looked. he would hate to be the one to ruin that part of you, you didn’t even know what his job was- but he wasn’t gonna let you know from the hands of higher class men he had to deal with.

matt walked forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply to take in your scent.

“hi.” he sighed. you smiled, wiping your hand on your apron before bringing it up to toy with the front of his hair. “hey, you okay?” you whispered to him, as if it’d disturb anyone.

he began peppering kisses along your shoulder before bringing his mouth up to your cheek, “just had a long fuckin’ day, missed you too.” he mumbled against your skin.

you nodded, turning to face him. your smile turned into a frown, your thumb lightly tugging at the ripped skin his lips were, “what happened?” you met his gaze, waiting for answers.

matt pulled your hand away, holding it with both of his, “clumsy and fell on the way here, nothing to worry about.” he reassured.

you kept the eye contact with him. matt wasn’t a bad liar, but he made it obvious with how he tensed and untensed. you nodded again, sucking your teeth, “i should have a bandaid around here somewhere.” your hands dug in the pockets of your apron before pulling out a hello kitty designed bandaid.

matt internally cringed at the design. “uh, i don’t think that’s necessary-“ “shut up?” you cut him off, “you’re the one that got hurt, not me, you have no say.”

he rolled his eyes, grabbing your hips to sit you on the kitchens counter. you giggled at him, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

matt winced, making you instantly unwrapping them, “whats wrong?” he shook his head, trying to keep a calm expression. your fingers gripped the end of his shirt, slowly dragging it up and revealing the overly reddened skin that was turning purple by the second.

you looked back up at him, suspicion even higher. “i fell, ‘member?” you scoffed, “i’ve fallen a million times i never once got bruised like that.”

he rolled his eyes again, “are you gonna put the stupid bandaid on or what?” you lightly smacked his shoulder, “don’t call hello kitty stupid, you’re stupid.”

matt just laughed, pouring out his bottom lip for the bandaid. his fingers traced small shapes on your hips as you unwrapped it, occasionally giving small squeezes.

“pretty stylish, no?” he joked, turning his head to the side, giving you the full view of the silly bandaid. you smiled, “of course it is, its mine.” you wrapped your hands around his neck, pecking his lips.

matt held your head in place, keeping you there as he continued the kiss. you tugged at the ends of his hair, “the bandaids gonna come off if you don’t stop.” you warned, matt shrugged, leaning in for another kiss.

his tongue pushed against your bottom lip, having you open your mouth wider so he could stick his tongue inside. your tongues met, fighting and tangling against each other as matts over took yours, deepening the kiss even further.

his hands trailed all around your body, wanting to touch every part he psychically could. you moaned softly into the kiss as his hands squeezed under your thighs, grabbing and squeezing your ass.

matt couldn’t pull away. you tasted like chocolate cookies, which wouldn’t be incorrect considering you were snacking on them whilst cleaning. he tasted like root beer and a cigarette you know he smoked before arriving, but it didn’t matter, wasn’t strong enough to make you pull away in disgust.

once you both finally pulled away, it was only to take a quick breathing break. your foreheads rested against each others, small smiles on both of your faces.

“you drive me insane, you know?” he laughed, but his eyes seemed to be full of pure love, “just such a sweetheart.” he whispered, moving the bottom of his head, pecking your lips.

you nodded with a huge smile. your thumb pressed the bandaid back on his lips, but it was barely sticking. you groaned, “see, i knew this would happen! that was my last one too!”

“i’ll buy you s’more then.“ he pecked your lips once more. “you better.. but i guess take it off for now, its weird with it on.” he complied, ripping it off before leaning over to put it in the trash.

matts ring-cladded hands clasped against your thighs, “cmon sweetheart, we gotta finish cleaning.” he unnecessary helped you down from the counter. “can you hurry and sweep out there?” before matt could whine about anything, “i may have left a slice of cake on the holder for you. gotta go clean be for you can eat it, though.”

he nodded, shrugging his jacket off before walking to the front and grabbing the broom. matt hurriedly swept across the floor, there wasn’t much crumbs or trash on the floor so it was easier than ever.

a noise from outside pulled matts attention. his eyebrows furrowed, stepping closer to the front door with the expectation of seeing just a random critter, but the street was empty.

a moment passed and matt leaned from the door. his eyes stayed trained on the outside before being able to make out a figure.

the figure slowly began creeping closer. once the streetlight hit them, matt could see who, or what it was. they were in all black, the ski masks logo they were wearing being the only thing with color.

his heart quickened. matt knew what logo it was. he looked back at the empty doorway leading to the kitchen before back to the person.

matt chewed his cheek, making the quick decision to go outside, hand already grasping the weapon in his pocket.

masterlist , taglist , TTPD masterlist .

— ꒰ 🖇️ ꒱ @freshloveee , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @55sturn , @lanas-doll , @chrissv4mp , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @imwetforyourmom .

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo fluff #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo snaps #matt sturniolo series #sturniolos #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris x reader

[pacifierbby]

CINDERELLA ✧  ; - LN4

Taglist 𐙚 Masterlist

* ੈ✩‧₊ Being brought up in a royal family is hard. Your mother is always expecting something highly off from the way you dress and how you don't act like your other siblings. but what happens when you meet a prince at the masquerade ball? Will they be envied by your siblings and mother? and will there be love?

: ̗̀➛ pairing ln4 x royal fem reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings slight toxicity, fluff, kissing,

: ̗̀➛ Word counter 1,637

Being brought up in a royal family has its pros and cons the pros? well, the late-night balls that the royals have the cons? having your mother pestering you about how you dress and why you can't follow in your sister's footsteps. you always wanted to be like a normal kid who went to college and got your degrees and who partied at the crack of dawn sadly that's forbidden in royal households. that's why sometimes you wish that you weren't born into your family. especially with your evil mothers and siblings like a Cinderella fair tail. You just don't have a powerful godmother, just an awe-full one that you call your sister. your mother's own doing your father has no say

your father was different he cared how you thought about this life wished he could change it for you wished he could have sent you to school when you were younger he didn't care how you wore your clothes or how you did your makeup you were just a normal girl in a royal household. sadly, your father passed away last year. The only person who you could talk to suddenly wasn't here anymore, the person dividing you from your mother. telling her to let her be who she wants to be leaving a mad sigh from your mother slamming the door behind her leaving you and your dad alone once again that feeling of being protected from your father's well being long gone

that's when your life changed, your mother became colder towards you taking control of you. how you lived your life to how you dressed, banning you from the outside world and forcing you to act like your sisters.

Looking back at yourself through the mirror the hairstylist and makeup artist doing their job your mother giving them strict instructions to not let you change how the makeup is. The maids rushing around you giving your dress the final improvements. The dress that you will be wearing for the masquerade ball tonight it was lovely you must admit but it did show so much breast and you wasn't the most comfortable women and to be honest you very rarely wore something like this.

"Alright, Elle everything is done" the hairstylist softly spoke grabbing you from your thoughts and smiling at them through the mirror looking at their work "Thank you" you softly spoke standing up from the dresser and watching the ladies pack "You are very welcome," they both said and with a quick goodbye they walked out of your room leaving you to look in the mirror your make-up making you look different your hair has a wave to it softly bouncing every time you moved. Making you feel a little more comfortable in your self "Miss Ella should we try your dress on before Miss Woods comes in" the maid asked "Yeah" you replied walking towards where your maid was standing with your dress in her hands following her into your bathroom " okay miss Ella ill leave this here shout me if you need anything at all" nodding her head before she left you closing the door behind her. Grabbing the dress from its plastic protector, raising it above your head a little the diamonds around the top of the dress reflecting from the light. Giving the walls a little watery effect. Putting the dress over your head, letting the dress fall a little "Um excuse me" you shouted hoping the maids were still behind the door like they said hearing the door handle move sighing in relief "Yes Mrs Ella what can I do for you" the lady stepping in " can you help me with my buttons please" going red a little in embarrassment holding your dress up at the top making sure it didn't fall "of course my lady" turning away from her. "how does it feel" she asked once she finished the last button "slightly tight but I adore it" smiling at the lady "you look wonderful" she softly replied stepping back to look at you better " your father would be so happy if he could see you today " smiling at her a little looking down if she only knew that your mother forced you into doing this it would be totally different the way your feeling right now is so out of place yes you felt like a princess but this is not you.

Stepping out of your bathroom you saw your mother and sister standing beside your bed "Oh my Ella you are beautiful" walking towards you inspecting you thoroughly you knew this was all an act just to have in front of the maids the siblings smiling a little the evil smile that they always put on " isn't she just " they both replied your mother standing back in between them "well the cars here shall we go and hopefully you will find a lover boy" you knew that was a dig towards you. It wasn't the first time or when she would blackmail you about getting an arranged marriage. Not listening to their fake comments grabbed your purse from the bed following your sisters behind.

"Right, Ella, don't fool us tonight, lady. I know you don't want to be here or wear that dress or the makeup, so please, to god, act normal, " she harshly spoken inside your right ear, giving you the warning sign looking down at your feet softly playing with your hands hoping the time will go a little faster your sisters not hearing the words that your mother spoken or they will be teaming up and honestly that's the last thing you want tonight.

Getting out of the taxi, the freezing cold hair hugging you instantly pulling your jacket closer to your body, following the guards into the event everyone in line given a small face mask to cover their eyes. Your mother grabbed your hand before walking into the double doors. "Remember what i said in the car, Ella I don't want no stupid business" with gritted teeth looking around to see if anyone watched throwing your hand away from hers gritting your teeth a little but you couldn't defend yourself not here and definitely not right now walking away from your mother with your head down

sitting in the back off the hall people dancing switching from different partners every now and again your mother dancing with some guy his hand going to her bum not even bothering moving his hand rollings your eyes sometimes you did have thoughts about your mother even loving your dad or was it an act to get into this family? just like she pressured you into a young age to call her your mother a small, forgotten part that you should have said at the start of the story.

The dancers stopped stepping aside letting a handsome man step into the event your breathing stopped a little "this is the Kings son whoever he chooses to dance tonight with is the one" the girl who you whispered in your ear your eyes never leaving the curly brown hair man his eyes moving around the room suddenly stopping on yours your heart beating alot more than normal the boy moving alot closer to you reaching his hand out for you to grab "may I have this dance" connecting both of your hands together "of course" you whispered quietly

Your bodies moving in sync to the music, every person's eyes on you both your eyes falling on your family your step sisters filled with nothing but rage the brunette twirling you around "do you know what this means" he whispers in your ear shaking your head "no" looking into his eyes something about them automatically pulling you in " my dad said whoever I dance with tonight has to be the one and may I add you are one beautiful lady and something about you from many pretty girls in here pulled me in."Well, mysterious man, what's your name?" You asked a small smile on your face still watching where you put your feet "lando" the music slowly stopping both of your bodies separting "well I'm happy you picked me" lando grabbing your hand "Shall we grab a drink" moving you towards the bar the next song slowly coming through the speakers the people going back to the dance floor.

"Whose them people looking at you like they're about to kill you?" lando nodded over towards your family. You didn't need to look over. You knew exactly who he was talking about "My sisters and my mother" you softly replied taking a small swig from your drink " they hate me and everything I do dosent go by there standard's so when you asked me to dance they know now they're lower than what I am" Lando nodded "your mother" lando spoke "why is her face completely different to them though" "Because she won this is her dream and she didn't care which sister as long as one of us did it" playing with your glass lando nodded understanding "your safe with me now" stroking your back giving you some sort of comfort "thank you" you softly spoke.

Quicker the night started quickly the night ended most of the time you did stay with lando the best you can to stay away from your family not wanting the fakeness from your mother but you knew you had to go with them "my farther said we need a family dinner tomorrow 2pm sharp" lando came to you passing on his fathers words "sorry my farther blunt always have been always will" laughing a little "you don't have to say sorry I understand my family are quiet the same " Lando kissed you on your cheek "ill see you tomorrow" giving you some sort of flutters in your stomach.

© pacifierbby works

a/n this is going to be a part series hope you enjoy reading it

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚pacifierbbyworks #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #mclaren #f1 smau #ln4 fluff #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x you

[leatherandlacerry]

for our eyes only

Prompt: Harry takes Mia with him on a work trip in New York City and all she asks is to take a couple photos in the hotel lobby photobooth

Word count: less than 1K

Authors note: this one’s short and sweet, I always have those Photo Booth aesthetics on my Pinterest so I get inspired. I imagine Harry like ceo/boss of pleasing and richrry but will do anything for Mia LOL(if you guys like this I’ll definitely do some more of them, its also 1 am so I'm sorry if the editing sucks)

***

“Baby, can we?” Mia points to the vintage photobooth tucked away in the corner of the hotel Harry and her were staying at. It’s been the best weekend she could ask for surrounded by the towering views of New York City.

Harry had a work emergency out here so he decided to bring Mia for a get away. It’s been room service and bubble baths every night and she couldn’t ask for anything more.

Except making the man who hates having his photo taken do this one little thing.

Harry gives her a serious look before smirking at the pouty lips she give him.

“It’ll be quick and for our eyes only,” She grins, giving him puppy dog eyes before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Mia watches him have the argument in his head before ultimately he rolls his eyes and drags her to the booth.

“Itll be fun, I promise”

“This is only because I love you,” Harry mumbles before pushing the bright red curtain open to let her in. With a little bounce in her step she follows him in.

A squeal leaves Mia’s lips as Harry practically man handles you onto his lap and shuts the curtain for some privacy. They both take a second to get situated, making they know what poses they want to do.

“$10 for this rusty thing?!” Harry’s eyes practically bulge out of his eyes at the price of a small strip of paper.

Even the CEO for a multimillionaire dollar company has a budget I guess, it’s adorable.

“I got it!” Mia giggles, reaching into her small shoulder bag to grab some cash. By the time she pulls it out the countdown is starting on the small screen.

“I said I got-“

“Hush love, sit still and look pretty for the camera,” He scolded jokingly before grabbing her face in his hand placing a big kiss on her cheek. Mia scrunches up her face as the flash goes off.

“Easy enough,” She smirks at his last comment before he pinches your thigh. “I’m always pretty,”

“Mhm my pretty girl” He hums, looking over to Mia with biggest smile on his face. It had been a long time since Harry found someone like her. He’d be damned if he were to ever let this one go.

The two don’t even notice that the count down starts as mia leans down to place her lips on his.

In the heat of the moment Harry slides his tongue between her lips to deepen the kiss and the flash goes off. Mia pull back, slightly out of breath from the intensity of it all.

“A proper porno,” He jokes, making Mia’s head fall back in laughter. She could feel her heart practically pound out of her chest at the dimples on his cheeks.

“Not our first rodeo,” Mia smirks, nipping at his lip. That toothy grin of his appears into the kissed they shared before they get ready for the next one.

Mia never thought she could feel so deeply for someone like this. Everytime he was around she found it hard to function properly.

“What’s next?” He asks, getting ready for the next one.

On the high of him, Mia wraps her hands around his head, sticking her tongue out for a silly one. At the last second she decide to tussle up Harry's hair, making his face drop.

“Oh that’s the winner,” She laughs, watching him glare at her as he trys to fight a smile.

“That’s all you get now,” he mumbles, standing up to exit the booth as the last photo counts down.

“You looked hot!” Mia squeals, wrapping her arms sounded his toned waist to pull him back. Harry stops and turns back to grab a hold of her chin.

“Yeah?” He asks as Mia looks up at him, feeling a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “How hot?”

Her mouth slightly opens to say something as the flash goes off and there’s now a photo of her in full submission. This is something Harry would cherish forever.

“That’s a keeper,” He chuckles as she pushes him off.

“Asshole”

#fanfic #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #leatherandlacerry #smut #writing #wattpad #harry edward styles

[foxaftershocks]

I just wanted to say I absolutely adore how you write Lars. I can perfectly imagine him in my head and it’s spot on. Please just keep writing all the Lars ❤️

I had an idea where the reader works at the lab with Lars. She has a crush on him but thinks he doesn’t like her but it’s more so because she makes him nervous and he doesn’t know how to act around her.

Winston sends them out to another borough (Queens, Brooklyn, etc) to collect an item he wants to extract or study and they could either get stranded and have to spend the night somewhere or come into some danger and finally confess their feelings? Maybe a bit of angst or jealousy followed by fluff. Thank you! 🥰

Here you go! It's got some jealousy, its got the one bed trope, it's got yearning and pining, and it's super long. I hope you like it.

“Seriously, he hates me,” you said.

Lucky shook her head, aiming the crossbow at the target. Her smile was secretive and you couldn’t unpack it without her thoughts being voiced. You kicked your legs as you watched, hands trapped under your thighs, waiting for the thunk of the bolt hitting the target. You offered a high five for the bullseye.

“He doesn’t,” Lucky said, “hate you, that is.”

“He’s always so… mean,” you said, trying to come up with the right words.

“He’s mean to everyone. If anything, that means he likes you,” she replied.

“He glares at me,” you said.

“I think that’s just his face.”

“Okay, well, when I enter a room he walks out of it pretty quickly and I always get the feeling it’s because of me. Like he can’t even stand to be in the same room as me,” you said, feet kicking harder as you thought about it.

Just that morning you’d been busy making a coffee in the tiny kitchenette you’d petitioned Winston to invest in. When you’d turned around, slowly mixing the mixture with a teaspoon, you’d looked up to find Lars standing just behind you, looking at you with furrowed brow and harsh glare. Instead of saying anything to you, he spun on his heels and stalked away, leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth.

You had plenty of other examples and each one left you sure that he wanted you to leave the lab and never return.

“Well, that could be anything,” she said, “maybe he just remembers something he has to do. Nothing to do with you at all.”

“Right,” you snorted, “sure.”

You watched her sink another bolt into the target, trying to work out what Lars’ problem was. You were always polite, always nice, sometimes a little too nice, and had never done anything to him. Maybe he’d realised that you had the tiniest crush on him and felt so offended by that he had to be cruel.

And what did it say about you that you still had that tiny, really not very significant at all, minuscule crush on him?

“Gee, I sure hope I don’t pay people to sit around and not do work all day.”

You startled, looking up into the face of Winston. Guilt curled around your heart, stomach sinking as you stared at him. He waited a moment, staring at you.

“We were just…” you trailed off, trying to find some excuse.

“Bouncing ideas off each other,” Lucky said, “while weapons testing.”

A small smile flicked the corners of his mouth up and you relaxed. It wasn’t often Winston got upset with you. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d seen him get upset with you. Stern, sure, but not upset. So his small smile set you at ease.

“Lucky for you I have an assignment for you,” he said, “come on, we have something to pick up.”

You trailed behind him, a bounce in your step. You’d been stuck in the lab for too long, working on calculations and data input. Getting to stretch your legs and go out into the world was exciting.

Until you saw who’s station Winston was leading you to.

“Pinfield, I’ve found you a partner,” he said.

Lars looked up, brightening until he saw you standing there, shifting your weight between your feet. A storm flew over his face, a glower levelled in your direction.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Play nice. It’s out in Brooklyn so it’s gone take you most of the day. Miss Hathaway has a trunk we’re interested in procuring. Retrieve it and bring it back here. She’s expecting you,” he said.

“No way,” Lars said.

“You’ll do it or you’ll be on gunk duty,” he said, “until summer.”

His face drained of whatever colour there might have been left. He stood abruptly, the screech of the stool on the floor harsh on the ears.

“You can’t be serious,” he said.

“As the plague,” Winston replied, “do it, Pinfield. It’ll only be a few hours.”

“I won’t even bite,” you said, speaking before your thoughts could catch up.

Winston’s chuckle as he clapped your shoulder only brought heat to your cheeks. Lars wasn’t even looking at you. Cursing internally, you feared you might have just made it worse.

“See? She’ll play nice with you,” Winston said, giving you a little shove in his direction, “van is waiting out back.”

He trudged off, not even bothering to see if you were following. His shoulders were tense and you could faintly hear him muttering to himself, no doubt cursing your very existence. Hours with him as you trekked out to Brooklyn on a fetch mission were shaping up to be a very specific form of torture.

He pushed the door open, letting in overcast sunlight. The air was cold, far too cold, and you shivered, curling your arms around your body as you stepped outside. The depths of December was not the time to be giving yourself over to the elements. Sliding in the van beside him, you ignored the curl of his upper lip as you directed the air vents towards you, flicking on the heat.

The roads were busy, people trying to beat the usual Friday holiday rush. Leaning back in your seat, you turned your gaze to the window, people watching as best you could in the stop start motion. It didn’t take long for the first flutters of white to pass by.

“It’s snowing,” you said, almost to yourself instead of to the other presence in the car.

“It’ll stop,” he said.

When you glanced over his knuckles had turned white around the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched. You let yourself look at him for a moment, knowing he couldn’t look back. Your eyes traced over his profile, along his nose, over what you’d always imagined would be soft lips, down his chin, the long column of his neck disappearing under the buttoned up collar of his shirt. he was beautiful. That much was obvious to you.

If he realised you were looking at him, he was ignoring it. And you. His fingers reached for the volume, turning up the radio until it would be awkward to talk. You continued to look, watching him. He was so careful as he drove, cautious, leaning forward to peer through the windscreen. He didn’t seem comfortable in his role as driver, tense and awkward. Or maybe he was just always like that.

The snow began to come down in flurries, sticking to the ground. Traffic slowed down even more, coming to a crawl. You pressed your nose to the window, looking out on the world.

“It’s getting worse,” you said, raising your voice to be heard over the radio.

“It’ll stop,” he said again.

You were pretty sure he was wrong.

Hours passed in silence, taking longer than it should have. The snow was falling thick and fast, the taillights of the car in front your constant companion. Lars wasn’t breathing easy, loud in the car, the radio long since turned down so he could concentrate. You were doing your best to make yourself a non-entity, not wanting to distract him at all. He’s already snapped at you just for playing with the heat.

Until it became clear that you had to say something.

“We can’t keep on,” you said.

“We’re almost there,” he ground out.

“Lars, I think we should stop until it clears up,” you said, “or at least stops snowing.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon. We should press on,” he said, jaw still clenched.

“Lars.” You waited until the van had braked again, his face turning towards him, “we have to stop.”

“Fuck,” burst from him, his hands slamming down on the steering wheel. You jumped at the sound of the horn blaring, “fine. Find somewhere for us to spend the night.”

You typed into the gps, looking for any kind of hotel nearby. Anywhere the two of you could stay as you waited for this storm to blow over. He followed the directions, pulling off the road to follow the directions as best he could in the swirl of snow and darkness.

The carpark was surprisingly full and you were worried you wouldn’t be able to find a room there. He put the car into park, staring up at the building in front of you. Instead of talking to you, he pushed the door open. You shivered, the cold invading you. Your coat was not enough to handle a snow storm.

“Come on,” he groused.

You made a dash for the front door, doing your best not to slip. His hand caught you around the elbow, keeping you steady as your feet almost came out from under you. He practically dragged you through the front door into the warm light and warm air of the entrance. Crossing over to the check in desk, you felt apprehension.

“You’re in luck,” the concierge said, “we have one last room available tonight. This weather has certainly changed a lot of people’s plans.”

“No. We need two rooms,” Lars cut in before you could say anything.

“Ah, then I’m afraid you’re not in luck. We really only have on room still available,” he said.

“We’ll take it,” you cut in before he could say anything.

One room was better than no rooms and you didn’t want to risk either of you having to go back out into that weather. You took the key from him and led a disgruntled Lars to the bank of elevators.

“Why would you do that?” he hissed when the doors closed.

“Did you want to go back out there? Because I sure as hell don’t,” you said.

He rolled his eyes, looking away from you with his arms crossed over his chest like a petulant teenager.

“Look, you can put up with me for one night. Just suck it up and deal with it and then tomorrow morning we’ll go finish the job,” you said, tired of how hostile he always was with you. It was one night. He could deal with it.

He didn’t answer. The doors open and he strode forward, plucking the key from you. You rolled your eyes, following him, trying not to look at the way his ass looked in his slacks. He might infuriate you, he might hate you, but you still felt butterflies around him and found him stupidly attractive.

Pushing open the door to the one room you were going to be sharing with him, he flicked on the lights. You ran into his back as he stopped without warning.

“What?” you asked, “is there something wrong? Did we find the murder hotel?”

You looked around his shoulder and then felt yourself freeze with him. One bed. One fucking bed. God must be laughing at you because this had to be some kind of sick joke. One double bed in the small room. This was going to kill you.

“Absolutely not,” he said, turning around to storm out only to find you still there.

He looked down at you, eyes flashing, jaw clenched, lips pressed together tight. You placed a hand on his chest, ready to push him back. He made a small noise, stepping back as if your touch burned. Maybe it did.

“I’ll go down and ask for a trundle bed or something,” you said.

You held a hand out to him, palm up, waiting for the key. He stared at you, blinked, then dropped it into your hand to keep from touching you.

Unfortunately, your trip was a bust. Too many people stuffed into a small hotel, not enough facilities for the weather. You returned on heavy feet, ignoring the man riding the elevator with you as you tried to come up with a way to tell Lars that wasn’t going to blow the entire thing up. You doubted he was above storming out into the snow and sleeping in the van just to prove a point.

“Not a fan of this weather?”

You looked up, finding the man watching you in the mirrored doors.

“Oh no, that’s not… It’s fine. Better if I was at home than here,” you replied.

“I dunno. I think there’s something magical about an unexpected snow storm in a hotel. All kinds of people come together that would normally stay so seperate,” he said, studying your face in the reflection.

You looked back, if only because his thoughts had surprised you. You hadn’t thought about it that way, seeing the nuisance the entire thing was rather than the possibilities it presented. He gave you a half smile.

“After all, would we have met without it?” he asked.

“I don’t even know you,” you replied.

“Dave.”

He offered you his hand. The palm was calloused and warm against yours and you felt shy as you gave him your name. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you averted your gaze down to your feet. His look of interest at you was new and a flutter of excitement started in your chest. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen with Lars.

“Same floor,” he said as the doors opened with a ding.

You stepped out into the hall, carpet softening the sounds of your footsteps. He followed, looking down at you as you walked side by side, hands close enough to almost brush against one another.

“This is me,” you said, coming to a stop outside the door, dread filling your stomach at what was waiting beyond for you.

“If you need any help warming up, I’m only two doors down,” he said, pointing at an identical door just down the hall from you.

The door to your room opened without warning, Lars sticking his head out. His hair was ruffled, as if he’d running his fingers through it and his sneer was not promising for the coming conversation. You gaped at him as his hand shot out, grasping your wrist and pulling you closer.

“That won’t be necessary,” he told Dave, shutting the door in his face.

“What was-“ you tried to ask before he interrupted you.

“Only an idiot would accept an offer to share a room with a stranger,” he said, cutting you off, “are you really that desperate?”

“Desperate for what?” you shot back.

His mouth opened and then shut with a snap, as if he didn’t deserve an answer. He spun on his heels, striding back to the bed, three steps away from you then back again. The skin of your wrist burned from where his touch had been fingers circling it like a manacle.

“Well?” he asked as if you’d been having a completely different conversation.

“Well what?” you asked.

“Are they going to bring a trundle?” he asked.

Ah, right, yes, that.

“They’re all out,” you said, ripping the bandaid off quick in the hopes it would hurt less.

“What do you mean they’re all out?” he asked, voice going deathly still.

“Something about a surprise snow storm and not being prepared for so many guests. If you want to go argue with them, be my guest.”

You gestured to the door and for a moment you really believed he was about to storm out of there to argue with the front desk. Then he shook his head, turning away form you so you couldn’t see the inevitable rage on his face.

“I know it’s a less than pleasant situation, but we can share a bed for one night like adults,” you said to his tense back.

He muttered something that sounded like an insult to your intelligence before he took his glasses off and dragged a hand down his face. Replacing them, he turned back to you. You’d never seen him without his glasses on before. You wondered how much of a difference it made.

“Let’s just get this over with. Make sure you stay on your side of the bed,” he said.

You would have snakily suggested making a pillow wall if you thought there’d been enough for that. As it was, the pillow situation was little depressing. One each.

You let him pick which side he wanted first, not wanting to annoy him further. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shucked your coat off, lying it aside. Tugging each shoe off, you glanced over your shoulder at him. He still had his tie on. He wouldn’t be sleeping in that would he? Apparently he would. You were going to have a hard enough time trying to sleep in your jeans. He wasn’t human. He couldn’t be.

You climbed into the bed, turning on your side so you didn’t have to see him. The bed dipped as he lay down beside you, a tug on the covers. The lights went off, leaving you in darkness. Facing the window, you watched the snow fall, not sure you’d be able to fall asleep. Shadows passed over the glass, the pile of snow growing on the window. You sighed, soft in the silence.

The longer you waited, the more the cold began to invade your senses. You could put it off when you were focusing on other things, problems to solve. Now you were left waiting, shivering in the expanse of the bed.

Lars was close enough you could almost feel his body heat. The bed wasn’t as big as either of you would have liked if you had to guess. He shifted again. You curled up in a ball, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to stop the shivering. You didn’t want to wake him. He hated you enough as it was.

A grunted huff. You tensed, waiting to see what happened. Nothing. Silence reigned again. You tried to relax again but the shivering was becoming unbearable.

“For gods sake,” you heard Lars mutter into the dark.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Can’t you stop?” he demanded.

“I’m trying,” you replied through gritted teeth, “it’s so fucking cold.”

A hand reached out, fingertips brushing over your spine. You jerked back, shrieking when you almost fell out of the bed. An arm curled around your waist, hauling you against a warm body. You struggled against the hold trying to put more space between the two of you.

“Stop flailing about like a fish,” he said.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“I know you find me repulsive but perhaps you can put that aside for one night so you don’t freeze to death and we can both maybe get some sleep,” he said, voice soft, breath ghosting against your skin, “shared body heat is the best chance of that.”

He certainly was warm against you.

“I don’t find you repulsive,” you whispered, not able to focus on anything else. If you did then you’d feel the way his body felt against yours, the hard planes of his chest, the curve of his legs as the slotted behind you, the soft rise and fall of his breathing.

“Course you do,” he said, “don’t be stupid.”

You turned, needing to see his face. You had no idea what was going through his head but whatever it was you needed him to know he was wrong. His arms tightened around you as if wanting to stop you but you wiggled your way around to face him.

He was so close, nose brushing against yours. You froze, finding him without his glasses, breath brushing your lips. He was softer without them, more boyish, less of something to hide behind. He drew back, retreating, like you were chasing him away.

“I don’t find you repulsive. Not at all. You’re…” you hesitated, not wanting to reveal your hand to him.

He began to retract his arms from around you but you reached out, winding his tie around your hand, keeping him in place. He glanced down then back to your face, lingering a moment. You must have been mistaken because otherwise he had been looking at your lips and that would be too much to handle.

“I’m what?” he asked, voice barely above an exhalation.

“You’re beautiful,” came from you without permission.

Lying so close to him in the dark, lit up by the lights out on the street, it felt like a confessional, the perfect moment for secrets to spill out.

He blinked, a look of confusion passing over his face. On of your hands came up, tracing over the way his eyebrows came together, smoothing the line between them.

“You’re the one who hates me,” you said when no response came forth.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers continued to trace over his features. He wasn’t batting you away, demanding you stay on your side, to stop bothering him.

“You glare at me, you leave every room I enter, you’re mean to me,” you listed off, “you made it clear you didn’t want me going on this job with you.”

“Because I knew it would be intolerable to sit in the van with you for hours,” he said, voice heartbreakingly soft.

“See? You hate me,” you replied.

“No.” His eyes sprang open and there was something there, so close to fear, or panic.

“No?” You had no idea what he was getting at.

“That wasn’t why it would be intolerable. It’s not… I’m not… You’d be sitting so close I could touch you,” he said.

“So?” you asked, not sure what the problem was.

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself.”

Now you were the one who was confused, eyebrows drawing together. The way he was looking at you was like it hurt to say and that only made it less clear what was going on.

“What?” you asked.

“I want to touch you, all of the time. You’re so…You’re just… It’s… I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he said.

“So why are you always so mean to me?” you asked.

“To remind myself you don’t want me the way I want you,” he replied.

“But what if I did?”

That shut him up. He looked down at you, still so close to him, mouth hanging open. You decided to take matters into your own hands, since he didn’t seem to be getting the message.

Surging up, you caught his lips in a soft kiss. He made a pained noise and you drew back, worried you’d hurt him. His hands pressed into your spine, dragging you closer as he kissed you again, almost like he couldn’t stop himself. His tongue dragged over your bottom lip and you opened yourself up to him.

He didn’t stop you as you climbed onto him, knees falling either side of his hips, straddling him. Your hair fell forward, a curtain between you and the rest of the world. You were quick as you tugged on the tie, pulling it off him, so frustrated by it. His hands had fallen to your hips, squeezing, pushing up past your sweater, seeking out the warmth of your skin.

You lost yourself in him, in his kisses. For such a buttoned up person, he kissed like a man who knew what he was doing. It only made you moan into his mouth, wanting more, wanting him in all the ways you’d never admitted to anyone before. You wanted his hands all over you. You wanted his lips all over you. You wanted him.

“We have to stop,” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again.

“Uh huh,” you hummed, letting your tongue graze against his.

His answering groan and the tightening of his hands wasn’t indicative that he wanted to stop. He was kissing you like you were the air he breathed. Like you were everything he’d ever wanted.

“Really,” he said as he drew back after indulging for a long moment.

“You don’t want me?” The sting of rejection was like ice over you.

You sat up properly, staring down at him.

“No. What? No. I do. I want you,” he said, panicked as he sat up too, following you, arms curling around your waist to keep you in place in his lap, “but not here. Not like this. Not in some seedy hotel. It should be after I’ve taken you somewhere nice for dinner and shown you that I’m a good guy and that I’ll treat you right. I’m meant to impress you first before this.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” you said.

“Maybe.” His eyes darted away from you.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheek, turning his face back towards you. Your lower lip was caught between your teeth and his eyes landed on it again, darkening, almost smouldering. You lent forward, giving him another lingering kiss.

“I must admit, when I’ve thought about it, it wasn’t quite like this,” you said, “at the very least I expected to be wearing sexy underwear.”

His skin heated, cheeks flushing. Your thumb ran over the warm skin, admiring it. His small whimper was gratifying and the way he was looking at you let you know he wanted to devour you.

“When we’re done with this job, I’m taking you out,” he promised, eyes sweeping down your body.

You let your fingers fall from his face, brushing the vulnerable skin of his neck before you began to slowly unbutton his shirt. He caught your wrist again and you wondered if that was something he enjoyed. If he might want to restrain you.

“What are you doing, love?” he asked, “I thought we were in agreement.”

“You can’t sleep like this. I’m just getting you comfortable,” you murmured.

He released you, letting you unbutton the rest of the shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. His skin was soft against yours, so warm it was almost burning in the cold air of the room. He lay back, pulling you with him. You settled against his body, head reasting on his chest, half on top of him.

“You have no idea how happy I am,” he murmured in the dark.

“I think I do,” you replied.

His lips pressed to the top of your head in a soft kiss before he settled down again. You listened to his heartbeat, slowing as his breathing evened out. Closing your eyes, you let yourself relax against him, much warmer than before.

And if you returned to the lab the next day with a bounce in your step, then you didn’t feel any need to explain yourself to Winston when you passed over the artefact.

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield x reader #request #gingerrosecoseplay

[wooahaes]

late night chats

pairing: non-idol!bang chan x fem!reader

genre: fluff. silly lil fluff.

warnings: food. its just a silly lil fic abt making plans w chris. mentions of past panic attacks and a not great ex-best friend.

word count: ~1.2k

daisy's notes: oh to go see the tigers with someone i love......

Chris turned over to wish you a happy birthday right at midnight, for once in bed… Only to find that you weren’t there.

He pushed the blankets off, stretching as he sat up before slipping into his house slippers. For once, he was half-asleep (the things he did for you), and pushed himself up. With a slight sway, he rubbed at his eyes before groping around for where he’d thrown his hoodie… Only to find that it was missing, too. No doubt your doing. Not that it bothered him: you liked stealing his hoodies. You told him once that you liked the smell of his cologne, and hugging or draping his hoodies around your shoulders often made you feel closer to him. Sure, sometimes you’d wear his larger ones, but you liked draping them over your shoulders the same way he would sometimes while you were working. 

Easily enough, he found you in the kitchen, standing over a pot of ramen, a pan sitting next to it with nothing in it at the moment. You had tied the sleeves of his hoodie so that it hung around your shoulders, some video essay playing off of your phone. The carton of eggs sat next to you, and you reached over to pop it open.

“Birthday ramen?” He said, trying to make a joke out of it. Except you jerked back, a sharp gasp escaping you as you turned to face Chris.

Instantly, you were relieved, even though you likely knew how silly it was to be startled by him. “You can go back to sleep, Chris,” you said after a moment, turning back to your ramen. “I’m just hungry.”

“Nah.” He made his way over, leaning against the counter. “I’m not tired.” He paused, glancing down at your ramen. “... Do you wanna share?”

With a sigh of relief, you bumped your shoulder against his. “I don’t think I could finish this alone. You want an egg?”

Chris then watched as you cracked a few eggs into the pan—one for him, one for yourself—before changing the topic. “So… Any plans for the day?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. Bare minimum was taking the day off, and since I did get it…” You chewed at the inside of your cheek for a moment. “Didn’t think ahead past a vague ‘enjoy freedom.’”

He nodded along, arms folded across his chest. “We could… go to the aquarium.” 

“We went a few weeks ago,” you said. “With Felix and Jeongin.”

Ah. Right. It’d been your idea to invite the two. Chris hummed to himself. “Amusement park?”

“Ehhh.” 

“Oh.” He looked at you again, “Right, you don’t like roller coasters.”

“It’s not that I don’t like them—”

He shook his head. “No, I remember the story you told me. High school best friend forced you onto a ride you didn’t want to go on, and you had a panic attack afterward.” Chris frowned at the thought. You’d laughed off the story when you first told it to him, but it was half-hearted. He’d held your hand and promised he’d never push you into anything you were completely sure you didn’t want to do (and he’d keep holding your hand if you decided you wanted to try something). “Still can’t believe she fucking laughed at you.”

You shrugged it off, not meeting his gaze as you pressed your lips together for a minute. A few seconds later, you forced a smile. “Eh. It is what it is.” 

Except you deserved better than that, he wanted to say. Sometimes Chris imagined how different certain situations in your life could have gone if he had been there to hold your hand and speak up where you were too afraid to. He would have told her that it wasn’t funny. He would have split a funnel cake with you and called you cute. Maybe next time some of his friends wanted to go, he’d get you to go with him and he’d split one with you there and keep you company when they wanted to go on rides you didn’t like. 

Something stuck out in his mind, though. “... Zoo?”

Immediately, your head jerked up. “Hm?” But he could see the look in your eyes, a new idea planted right then and there in your brain. 

He giggled. “You’re like Berry when I ask her if she wants to go for a walk.”

With a snort, you rolled your eyes and turned back to the ramen. “Still…”

“If you wanna go to the zoo, we can go to the zoo.” He smiled to himself, already planning out the trail the two of you could take. He knew one of them was called the tiger trail, and, well… If the tiger plushies that littered your bedroom weren’t proof enough of your love of the big cat, everything he knew about you did. He shimmied his shoulders playfully as he moved his way over to you, “We could see the tiiigers—”

In the tiniest voice, you spoke up shyly, “... Could we?”

He just pulled you into his arms with a laugh. “If that’s what you wanna do! It’s your birthday,” he kissed the side of your neck before nuzzling his nose against it. “If you wanna see the tigers, we’ll go see the tigers.” Chris could feel the way your skin warmed up, and he just giggled again at how flustered you’d become. “Baby?” He turned you around to face him, caging you in between himself and the oven. “Say it.”

You buried your face into your hands. “You’re embarrassing.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” he said, poking your sides just to see you jolt. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

Even after dating him for this long, you were still so shy sometimes. “Chris?” You peeked at him from between your fingers. “I wanna go see the tigers.”

He pulled your hands away from your face all too easily, peppering your face with kisses. “Then we’ll go see the tigers!” He held your face in his hands. “You’re so cute.”

You averted your gaze, and then finally spoke up after a few seconds, “takes one to know one.”

Fine. He’d let you get that one for today. Other days, he’d deny it and try to paint you as the cutest one in this relationship (truly, there was no competition in his eyes), but for today? He’d let you win. He just kissed you, warm and sweet, before drawing back. “Happy birthday,” he said. And then he pinched your cheeks one last time. “Gonna go see the tigers with my baby…”

You finally let out a groan, yet it was clear how much you still loved him. He might be a dorky mess of a partner, but he was yours. “We can go see your family, too, y’know,” you turned back to the stovetop to make sure nothing had stuck over overcooked. “There’s kangaroos.”

He just laughed, wrapping his arms around you. “Whatever you wanna do,” he said. “I’ll be right there with you.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

#wooahaes.fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #stray kids x you #skz x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chris bang x reader #Chris Bang x you #wooahaes.24

[channiesdelululand]

Game Night

NSFW Lee Minho x Reader 2,951k words

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral, cursing, overstimulation, competing screams with you best friend in another room (idk i this is a warning but just dont want anyone uncomfy)

Imagine hating your best friend's boyfriend's best friend... Or do you?

Best to pick your Chan bias friend!

______________________________________________________________

“YOU LIKE WHO?!” 

Your best friend about drops the wine glass in her hand as you both are cleaning up in the kitchen after another successful game night. A pretty common occurrence at the Bahng residence. The two of you catching up on the week while Chris and his best friend in the other room talking about their next record release. You looked forward to this all week every week. The ONLY thing that could make it better is if the man you hated wasn’t Chris’s best friend and roomate. 

“Jesus Christ bsf/n, lower you voice! Chris and Min are literally in the living room…” 

“Sorry, sorry! But like babe I thought you hated Minho? Just yesterday you said you hoped he walked into a vat of gasoline and then tripped on a match.”

“I can’t stand him! But he just, everything! It’s infuriating why does he need to be so god damn sexy with everything?”

“Why do you even hate him again?”

Bsf/n asked as you started to walk out of the kitchen to go grab your phone you left on the coffee table.

You cant even remember honestly when it all started. Maybe it was the cocky way he carried himself? Always so cold to everyone not really even giving anyone an opportunity to see a different side of him. But it wasn’t just you, he hated you too. Always acting like a school boy pulling at the things he knew would get to you. But after today, you were just confused. The looks he kept throwing your way. You caught him staring multiple times. His eyes following every little thing you would did, every slight move you would make. Which lead you to the conversation confessing that you may have breathed in every moment of him staring a little too much. That maybe, just maybe you wanted more.

Getting so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t have time to react to the tall figure colliding into, drenching you both in leftover punch. 

“Fuck Minho, Im so sorry!” You waited a few seconds to be called a dumb ass or some rude remark, but it never came. He set down the punch bowl he had been holding down on the table you left your phone at. And within seconds had your wrist in his hand leading you to his room. 

“Come on you can change into one of my shirts.” Thats all you heard before the door opened and you found yourself where you had never been before. But here you were back pressed up against the door, Minho inches from your face with an expression you just couldn’t read.

“The shirt Min?” Trying to break what ever tension was happening.

“Oh I’ll get to that, don’t worry. But first tell my how much I infuriate you. Go ahead kitten, if you can talk shit about me to bsf/n you can do it to my face.” Leaning with one hand above your head and the free hand brushing the little bit of hair falling in front of your face softly behind your ear.   

“I….”

Before you could even form a sentence his lips were already crashing into yours, pressing your whole body further against the door. Your hands holding his face in an instant pulling him closer into the kiss, if  that was even possible. It was painfully obvious as your tongues danced together the craving you both had for each other had reached its breaking point. 

“Can I?” Minho gestures to your button down blouse. You quickly nod in approval. As he starts to unbutton half way down he pauses and takes in every inch of what’s in front of him. Making a mental picture of the way the black lace popping out from your bra perfectly accents the curves of your breast.  

“Minnnnnn” You very impatiently whine out as he takes his time lightly peppering your collarbone with kisses, trailing his way done as he finishes taking off your shirt completely. 

“Oh y/n, kitten relax youll get what you want but im about to take my time with you. Tell you what though I'll share a little of what i have planned. After im done getting my hands and lips on every inch of this gorgeous body, im going to have you on your knees so I can see if those pretty lips are good for more then just talking shit, and then im going to fuck you into tomorrow. Sound like a plan?”

Before you could even think of a response you felt his hands quickly lifting you up under your thighs wrapping your legs around his torso pressing you up against him, feeling how painfully hard you had already made him. With you safely in his arms, your hands behind his head pulling him into kiss after passionate kiss he made his way with you over to his nicely made bed. 

Slowly setting you down on your back, lips never leaving your body but instead trailing down your neck right in the creek  that made you fold as he gave little bites, blowing on each fresh red mark he created. Little squeaks and whimpers leaving your mouth was like some kind of overwhelming drug to Minho. Like a song he wanted on repeat in his ears forever. Trailing down your body further licking, biting, marking every free spot available. But he needed to hear more. He needed to know just want kind of noises he could pull from you.  Finding your waist band he began toying with the elastic while looking up at you with the deepest brown eyes. You couldnt tell what exactly you were seeing as part of him was filled with such a dark lust that washed over his appearance but somehow he also was looking at you so softly something youve never seen him do. 

“You know ive really wanted this for so long y/n but I never thought i had the chance. I want to make this body of yours mine.”

“Please, need you Min.”

“You need what sweet girl? Come on use your words.” His hand still running along the areas of your waist, using the top of his hand to softly brush up against you feeling just how wet you already were through your thin leggings. Your hips moving and wiggling slightly trying to feel more. His face so close you could swear the pressure of even his breath was about to set you off. 

“I need you, I need you to touch me” the most pathetic sounds starting to pour from your mouth as you start to beg this man you thought you hated to finally fuck you. 

“Please fuck me, do what you want to me, i need to feel you in me minnie please.”

“What a good girl finally being honest with me for once. Lucky for you im a man of my word.”

With that he pulled down your leggings to reveal matching panties to your bra. You hear a harsh hiss come through Mins teeth. 

“Fuck you wear these fuck for me?” Minho was really taking in everything just like he said because with every step he took you in like a painting. Memorizing every detail to its fullest before continuing. 

“You are so fucking perfect y/n” taking his hands and harshly grabbing your thighs, he truly thought every part of you deserved attention. While his hands massaged up and down your thighs his head was situated in perfect view giving your inner thighs the same licking, biting, kisses he was to the rest of your body. Kissing so close to where you needed him most causing you to cry out for more. With a a smirk and a slight evil giggle he flicked the side of your black lace to the side very eager to get a taste of you. With the first swipe of his tongue he looked up at you with a low moan.

“My god you taste incredible kitten.”

Pulling your panties fully off he went back down licking and sucking every part of you, holding your hips down while you squirmed. 

“Now sweet girl you were making such pretty noises earlier why are you covering your mouth now?” He noticed once he inserted 2 fingers while continuing to give your clit the full attention of his mouth. 

“bsf/n and Chris are outside I dont want them to hear”

“Oh but kitten i want them to hear, i want them to hear exactly what we are doing in here. I want you to scream so loud the whole city knows who owns you tonight”

“Fuck yes please” you more confidently moan out. 

“There we go, thats my girl. Plus i guarantee they are playing the same game so why dont we play a little game back, called whos louder. Its only fair since it is still game night. Now baby grind on my face i can feel how close you are lets win the first round”

Obeying his orders you tighten your grip in his hair and grind against his perfectly sculpted face. Everything was so overwhelmingly pleasurable, the pace of his fingers, the way they were curling repeatedly i to the perfect spot, him sucking and licking perfectly. It was all going straight to your head making you dizzy. You could feel your high coming and listening to him loudly enjoying himself was exactly what you need to push you over the edge. 

With a scream of his name, your legs tightening around him, your body broke through your high. But that didnt stop Minhos pace. 

“Min, its too much, i cant. Please” 

You couldnt tell what you were feeling but you felt like your body was about to snap. He didnt respond to your pleas with any words just a low growl between breathes. You felt a new high climbing but a different high. Something yould never before this and as your cried out his name for the second time in less then a minute you felt everything below you became soaked. 

“God, fuck that was so perfect kitten.” Minho raising his dripping face up with the most shit eating grin. He threw in a few licks to cause your body to twitch at the over sensitivity. 

“I dont know what just happened but im so sor..”

You were immediately cut off with him on top of you mouth back on yours.

“Sorry? Oh god for what?  That was so fucking sexy i need that from you over and over again. I want to taste you  like that every night. Fuck i need you even more. Did it feel good?” He was looking so deeply in your eyes.

“It felt incredible, ive never felt that good. Can i have more please. I want to feel you in me. Need to feel you in me now.” You beg as he removes his shirt still hovering over you giving your hands free roam all over his body. Every part of him is so stunningly perfect. How have you had the strength to go on this long not getting to touch every inch of him. 

Using your nails a little to graze over his skin, watching goosebumps appear along his strong arms currently one on either side of your body holding himself up. Watching your movements, the look in your eyes silently begging for more.  You reach down to begin unbuttoning his pants and he helps you by removing them fully letting himself bounce up against his lower stomach. Your hand reaching immediately to grab him, smearing his precum over the beautiful caramel tip.  A little groan falling from his lips. And a shiver through his body finally feeling your touch. He had thought about it for so long, after a long day late at night. Alone in room with his thoughts. Thoughts about you, touching him, playing with him, how your mouth would feel around him, how good yould feel taking all of him thrust after thrust. Knowing this was finally happening was enough to make this once stern strong man to melt into a puddle. He was quickly taken out of his thoughts as you pushed him forward and switching him to the bed so you could bend down in front of him. 

Now on your knees you take a moment to look up at the god like man in front of you. Perfectly chiseled body, and holding him so beautifully in your hand… it was enough to bring out a few pathetic whimpers from you. You were waiting to hear some type of overly cocky bullshit come from his lips but all that you heard were small moans as you rubbed your hand up and down slowly. It was a dangerously gorgeous sight. 

Taking your tongue in replacement of my hand going up along the middle, bottom to glorious tip top. Taking in the feeling of every vein before circling around his tip and back down again. Stopping every few cms to give small kisses. 

Starting to see impatience grow on the man groaning before you, you decide to give in and fully take him into your mouth swirling your tongue around and sucking when needed. He felt so fucking good as he slid towards the back of your throat, starting to buck his hips needing fuck your throat deeper. 

“God fuck 자기야” groaning in between words louder and louder as he takes a fist full of your hair pushing your head as far as yould go. 

“You are so fucking pretty like this. So fucking perfect. My perfect toy.” Drool dripping everywhere, running down your chin as let out the most pathetic noises. This was a vision of heaven for Min. 

In between the sounds your mouth was making and Mins delicious moaning you could hear your friends in the other room playing the exact same game. The echoing of it all was making you dizzy. You need this man deep inside you now. 

“Please Min, please fuck me”

Looking up at him with begging eyes, pleading for him to finally take you. 

“Sweet girl i thought yould never ask.” His strong arms picking you up from the floor bringing you back to laying on the bed, him hovering over you. Something so animalistic about the look in his eyes while he brought his face closer to your so he could kiss you. More passionately then youve ever been kissed, his hands exploring every inch of you. Wanted to simply devour you in every way he can. While kissing and sucking at your neck he was perfect aligned to rub himself up and down your folds. Teasing you, causing you to gasp everytime he was close enough to enter. Little hip movements trying to get him inside you. 

“My impatient little bunny” he let out a giggle as he slowly sank into you. With a slow pace back and forth, kissing at your face, and leaning into your ear.

“You are truly so beautiful. Absolutely made for me. I need you.”

You giggled as his statement.

“You feel so good, you have me right now”

“No, no y/n i need YOU. I need all of you. I need this every night. I need to wake up to you every morning. I need YOU.”

Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper inside he rushed his pace.

“You can have me, i want you. Please take me and make me yours Minho.”

Nails digging into his back as he abused the perfect spot. You felt your body close to snapping at the incredible rush of feeling. 

Loudly sputtering out syllables of his name. 

“Yes come on tell me whos making you feel this good, scream for me.” 

Your moans were pathetic loud but so were your friends. It was like a match between you and bfs/n to see whose man was making the other feel better. It was clear both men had the same idea on how tonights game night was going to go. 

“I told you they would play too”

“Fuck Min, i cant take it please”

“Cant take what pretty girl? Come on tell me what you want. Tell our friends what you want. Go on scream for me.”

“Please i want to cum, i want to cum for you.” Moaning in a way you dont think youve ever moaned for anyone. Feeling your mind slip away into a state of pure bliss. 

“Yes!” The only word coming out of your mouth over and over and over again. Holding on as long as you could because it felt so good. 

“Go ahead 자기야 i want you to make another mess” 

Min wanted it to continue but with as good as you felt clenching around  him he knew he needed to let go with you right then. 

As wave after wave rushed over you Minho grabbed your hand in his as he let his orgasm go with yours both bodys twitching while the most beautiful melody of moans from the both of you came together.  

He stayed hovered above you for a bit his head in the crock of your neck. You could feel the smile on his face. Bringing his face up to yours giving him a gentle kiss on the nose.

“That was perfect Minho”

“No you're perfect y/n.” 

The gentle kisses continuing into something more passionate. You could feel Min on your thigh harding all over again. 

“It doesnt sound like bsf/n and Chris are quite done. And by the feel of it I dont think your done either I might have a little left in me.” Letting out an innocent giggle. 

“Fuck it ill go all night with you.” 

#smut #skz #skz smut #stray kids smut #straykids #bang chan smut #minho smut #lee know smut #enemy to lovers

[yesimwriting]

Felix and lovie:

L: but... arent promise rings meant for bfs and gfs?

Felix: i mean, we made the promise to always be close so its our promise ring i think.

L: i guess youre right!

Farleigh: 🧍🏾‍♂️

i want to queue posts before i go on my trip but i also i love instant gratification ahhh

this isn’t exactly promise rings but i think it feels pretty close

His room still smells the same--faint traces of smoke and cologne blending into slightly humid air. You're not sure what you expected. Felix left for a weekend for some family function his mother wanted him to attend. Two days.

Not a significant amount of time. Not enough time to change anything, and yet you felt every second of it. You missed him. Missed him more than you think you'd ever be willing to admit.

"Did you miss me?" There's no way he knows what you were thinking about, but there's something about the slight tilt of his head and his barely there smile.

You hold his gaze for a beat before letting your attention fall to your shoes. "Maybe a little."

Felix's mouth falls open in a mock gasp. "Maybe?" And then, still completely appalled, "A little?"

You press your lips together into a firm line to keep from laughing at his reaction. Felix moves to stand, leaving his bed in favor of approaching you. In an attempt to hold your ground, you cross your arms in front of your chest. Felix disregards your feeble line of defense, continuing forward until you're within easy reach.

"I could say--" Felix places a firm hand on your shoulder. A sound between a laugh and something slightly more panicked tumbles through your sentence. "I could say I missed you a lot, but--" Another hand on your other shoulder, another clumsy laugh. "But I don't need to feed your ego."

He pulls you forward gently until your face hits his chest. You halfheartedly lift your arm in an empty attempt to push him away. You're quicker to embrace defeat, glad for the excuse to be near him, really near him.

You hugged Felix when he first got back to campus, but with his usual crowd all desperate to catch up with him and Farleigh right there, you felt a little more watched than usual. You couldn't do what you really wanted, couldn't take a beat to just absorb Felix's warmth.

"So you were being mean."

You're only half listening, more focused on wrapping your arms around Felix. The scent of his detergent is stronger than usual, nearly obscuring the scent of his cigarettes entirely. Maybe he smoked less this weekend. You try to picture Felix under some kind of authority, sneaking cigarettes out on a patio to avoid upsetting his parents. It's so normal, a part of you regrets not getting to see him like that.

His hand presses against your back. "Lovie?"

You lift your head enough to look at him. "Yeah?"

Felix's eyebrows briefly pull together. He watches you for a moment before grinning. "You missed me."

His smugness has the instinct to protest crawling up your throat, but there's something so content about his expression, you can't bring yourself to deny it the way you usually would. "I missed you. A lot."

Felix's grin broadens. He tilts his head downwards, his lips briefly brushing against your forehead. He straightens before responding, "You could have come with me."

You did meet Felix's sister during your Christmas break trip, and she was really nice, but Felix's world is still something you're vaguely wary of. Maybe you could have come around to the idea of meeting Felix's parents, but the thought of attending some event intended only for his family was a little overwhelming, especially because Felix didn't invite any of his other friends.

"It was a family thing."

Felix lets out a soft sigh. "I brought Farleigh."

"Farleigh's your cousin, he was already invited."

He pulls back slightly, his hands moving away from your back as he lets go of you. "No one cares if you bring a date to those things." It's the same argument he used in an attempt to get you to go with him. "It's to keep the night bearable."

"Bearable?" You beam. "You missed me."

From you, it's an accusation. Felix's eyebrows draw together, like he's unsure why you felt the need to say something so obvious. "I missed you." He shifts back on his heels in a way that borders on uncertain. "So much, I brought you back a present."

You raise your eyebrows at that. Felix is a thorough person. When he gives someone his attention, that person has his entire focus. When Felix gives presents, he tends to be just as generous. It's not a bad thing, but it is something the two of you have talked about. Yes, you're best friends, but that doesn't mean you want Felix splurging on you. Even if it's not splurging to him.

Felix turns, walking towards the bag that he left on his bed. With his back to you, it's a little easier to watch him openly. He went to English countryside for some charity event put on by some cousin. What could he have gotten? "A present?"

He unzips his bag. "Yes," Felix shifts through his close, "A present."

When Felix turns to face you again, there's a something small and square in his hand. The closer Felix gets, the clearer the object becomes. A box that's oddly reminiscent of a jewelry box.

With an abruptness that doesn't seem to suit him, Felix extends his arm to hand you the box. You watch Felix as you take the box, doing your best to decipher his expression. He's strangely blank.

You open the box, revealing a ring safely tucked between cushioned velvet. There's an image carved into the flat face of the ring. The carving of an arrow-pierced hand emerging from a crown is vaguely familiar. You might have cared about placing the image more if the ring was less stunning.

"You um--you wear a lot of rings, so I thought..."

You do wear a lot of rings, there are several on your fingers right now. "It's really pretty."

"My mum was going through some older pieces this weekend and it reminded me of you." The explanation is mumbled cautiously, Felix's attention shifting from you to the ring and then back to you.

Your lips part, an uncertainty you're not accustomed to feeling around him making it hard to speak. You don't know everything about Felix's family history, but you know enough to understand that when he says something from his home is old, he means it.

"Lex." The gesture tugs at a sentimental part of you that exists solely in the pit of your stomach. "That's really sweet, and it's really pretty, but I can't take some family heirloom from you."

His eyebrows pinch together in a way that feels more confused than directly unhappy. "You're not taking it, I'm giving it to you." Felix shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "C'mon, I've got loads of these, it's just been sitting in some closet."

Felix is watching you with wide, almost pleading eyes. You let your gaze fall back onto the ring. With no warning, Felix places a hand over yours. "We'll trade."

You don't fully understand what he's getting at until Felix starts to straighten your fingers. He twists the ring that's on your ring finger. It's a nice ring, a simple band with thin carvings that you picked up at a vintage jewelry shop on a whim, but it's not exactly an even trade.

Felix slides the ring off your finger. A trade is a little easier to accept. The two of you share things like bracelets all the time. "Okay," you pause to take a breath, "But if you ever want it back..."

"Yeah, I know." The words feel like a dismissal. You narrow your eyes briefly, but don't push the subject the way you normally would. You're too happy to see him to care about technicalities.

Felix pulls the ring out of the box and slips onto your finger. You bend your fingers and turn over your hand to get a feel for the ring and its size. It fits. "It's really nice."

"It suits you."

Before Felix can pull your ring onto his finger, you put your hand over his. He lets take your ring from between his fingers. You hold your thumb beneath Felix's palm, the rest of your fingers curling over his knuckles. Felix keeps his fingers straight as you place your own ring on his finger. "There."

Felix grins. "There?"

"Yeah, it's--" You ignore the warmth attempting to make its way up your neck. "It's in place."

He stretches his fingers, studying the way the band looks on him. There's something about his expression you can't quite read, but it doesn't seem unpleasant. He drops his hand before you can attempt to decipher his thoughts any further. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

You drag your thumb against the side of the ring. "Yeah, a movie sounds nice."

----

fun fact the design carved into the ring is supposed to be the catton family crest :)

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

#bestfriend!felix #felix catton x reader #bestfriend!felix x reader #felix catton x you #saltburn x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

[dianneking]

The Bet - Brienne/Reader bookshop AU

Hi dears, in case you wanted some trashy, slightly angsty romance bookshop AU starring none other than the majestic Brienne of Tarth as well as yourself...well, look no further cause you're in the right place! It is with great pleasure that I present you

The Bet

Tags: Alternate Universe - Bookshop, Out of character, Angst with a happy ending, POV second person, Idiots in love, Mutual Pining, Misunderstanding, Panic Attacks, Hints of past violence, Swearing. Word count: 5423.

AO3 link in the title above.

"Hello?" 

You did a double take when you lifted your eyes from the monitor. You didn't mean to, but the woman in front of you was not the kind of person that usually found her way to your tiny bookshop. 

She was...well, she was imposing , to begin with: taller than you'd ever seen a woman be, with broad shoulders that the t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide...and she looked clearly out of her environment among the shelves, standing with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her, shifting from foot to foot, a frown taking over her face the more and more you looked at her without saying anything. As if she was waiting for your reply...

Oh!

Right.

"Oh uhm sorry, yes? Uh hi, welcome! What brings you to our bookshop today?" You cringed at your own awkwardness, but her expression didn't change too much from her frown.

"I lost a bet."

"A...bet?" Well this was unexpected. Surely your little shop was not so scary that getting into it was a dare? And this woman in front of you looked as if she'd be afraid of very little. She looked more disgruntled than scared anyways, light eyebrows corrugating over those piercing, beautiful blue eyes, lips pressing together as her nostrils flared out. She looked like the type of woman who spends more time in a gym than in a bookshop but apart from that, you had no idea what kind of bet would bring her here. Not that you were complaining. 

"Yes. I lost a bet and now I have to buy a book here. Surely you can provide me with one." She enunciated, as if she was talking to the dumbest person alive. You didn't care. Her accent was melting your insides into a pile of goo. 

I'd like to provide you with my number , your mind dreamily suggested as a reply, but you squashed it ruthlessly down. Not every woman with muscles is interested in other women, you reminded yourself. And even if she were, it didn't follow that she would be interested in you , anyway - the woman was the definition of Out Of Your League, with her short blonde hair, her chiseled jaw, her strong arms crossed on her chest…and you had lost your train of thought once again. 

"Hmmmm yes sure. Uhm not a fan of reading?" She bristled as if you had insulted her.

"Of course I read .” She scoffed “I make time to read daily. I simply don't waste my time with all of this..." she gestured around her, vaguely including the manga section and the horror shelves in her speech "...this fiction ." She spat the word as if it had offended her by its own existence.

Right.

If you had to be completely honest, if it had been anyone else insulting your beloved books, you'd have been all up in their faces. These weren't just books, they were your babies, your companions during the long days at work and your even longer sleepless nights, they were your best friends in a way no human ever could aspire to be. From the moment you had understood that in those pages lied countless stories, adventures you could partake in, emotions you had never felt, you were in love with reading already.

That's why you were working here, day after day, smiling up at the shelves filled to the brim, cursing the paperwork and cleaning and everything that kept you away from cracking open the newest release and losing yourself in its pages.

You loved your job because you loved books.

So anyone insulting your papery companions would be treated to your Cold Stare™ and Dismissive Attitude™.

And yet...you guessed this woman was clearly misguided in her dismissing all fiction with such a sneer. The fact that her sneer was so damn attractive didn't absolutely play any role in your sudden conciliatory attitude. Absolutely not. Nuh-huh. Not at all.

"Hello? Are you still there?" 

Well, fuck. Daydreaming of a client when they are in front of you. Great way to appear professional, and to make a good first impression on a gorgeous first-time client.

"Huh. Yeah, uhm sorry, I was thinking of possible recommendations that would suit your needs. What are your general interests?" You tried to patch things up only to be once again met with her frown.

"That is a useless endeavor. I will not enjoy wasting my time reading it anyways. Just give me one." 

"But you will read it?" 

"Of course! I did give my word."

Her word . Who said that nowadays? Giving your word? That was the stuff of old, of knights, of epic tales of heroism, of... fiction .

Oh.

You might have the right book for this hard, formal, stunning woman.

You stood up, surprising her with your sudden movement, but you didn't notice the way her eyebrows shot up, nor the way her eyes followed you as you made your way to the book, rising to your tiptoes to reach it.

You presented it to her like a hunter presents their caught prey.

"This." 

She gingerly caught it between her fingers, as if it could bite her, or worse, contaminate her with the debauchery of reading for pleasure.

"This?" 

"You'll like it." 

"Haven't you listened? I said I don't like fiction."

"I heard you. You didn't say you don't like it. You said you don't read it." You didn't even know where the confidence came from, but you were sure. This was the right book for her.

She seemed to be surprised by it. Surprised enough to give up her fight with a huff. 

"I guess I might as well get this since you're so sure about it." 

She started skimming the first pages as you rang it up for her, and you could see her frown slightly easing up.

You hid your smile, feeling it pulling at the corners of your mind as she absent-mindedly handed you her card, paid and wandered out the shop, her nose still in the book.

____

"So about that little bet we had, did you get the book?" 

Brienne didn't like admitting she was wrong. She sure as shit wouldn't admit that to Jaime of all people. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

But no matter all of her misgivings, she was enjoying that book. The plot had captivated her against her will, and more than one time she had found herself up until the early morning hours glued to the pages, lost in the description of adventures that had never happened if not in the fantasy of the author.

Such a far cry from her usual dry, factual fare of nonfiction books. Boring , some would call them, practical , she’d counter. You see, Brienne was a practical woman and she happened to like that about herself. And if people found her boring, it was their fault, not her own.

"Yes, I did get that" she replied in a bored tone, hiding her excitement below her well-polished mask.

She thought of the excitement on your face as you got the idea of suggesting this book to her. Of how smug you had looked when handing her the volume.

So sure she'd like it. And the most shocking aspect of it all was the fact that she did. 

And maybe, maybe in the privacy of her own mind she could admit to herself that she also thought of the way your shirt had risen as you reached for the book, exposing a sliver of your midriff as it did so. And the way your eyes had sparkled when you had handed her the novel, challenge and amusement and confidence mixing in your gaze. 

She had liked that too, just like the book, and just like the book she had liked it almost against her better judgment.

________

"How did you do it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as she charged into the shop, the bell ringing behind her long after she had entered, a thunderous frown on her face, the copy of the book she had purchased from you tightly held in her slender yet strong fingers.

She had gorgeous hands too…some people were just blessed with beauty, you thought. And you were blessed with being able to see and talk to such beauty.

The smile that climbed to your face was not your usual customer service one, but a warmer one, a special one just for her.

"So, did you like it?" 

She looked taken aback at your warmth, and you could see the faint beginning of a blush on her cheeks.

"I did, if you must know it!" She looked offended at the very thought. It was adorable.

"Oh I am so glad to hear that! The author is an emerging one, only has another one published, if you liked their style you might enjoy this too!"

"What for?"

"Why, as your next fiction book, of course. Isn't that why you came back?"

"I…maybe."

This time your smile got a definite hint of smugness in it.

"Are you going to fight me over this one too? Should I dare you to read this as well?"

"Listen here, don't get cocky. You just got lucky there. It won't happen again."

It did.

As a matter of fact it kept happening, and you fell into a sort of beautiful bookish routine. Depending on how long the book was and how busy she was, your favorite client would grace your shop with her presence once every couple of weeks or more, always putting up an offended front at having liked the fiction book you had suggested and yet always asking for another one.

Slowly but steadily she would start opening up about what she liked in them, allowing you to start collecting tidbits of information about her as well - she loved historical fiction, and fantasy too. She wasn't so keen on sci-fi and urban fantasy unless the plot was somehow worth it. She loved strong female main characters and complex character arcs. 

During the day she was kept busy from her work (law enforcement, she told you on one occasion, and didn’t go in more detail, you wondered if she was just a regular cop or maybe something cooler), but she found time to read in the evenings ("Mornings are absolutely for working out, no way I am skipping that for a book. Even if it is a good one.” she had stated, as if it was the law, and you had nodded dumbly, once again mesmerized by the intensity of her gaze, even if you woke up with a book and read it during breakfast and on the commute to the shop and couldn’t think of a better way to start the day). 

_______

“And I loved the world building in this one, the interaction between the characters, and I can't wait to read the second part and understand where these mechanical enemies are originating from!” 

You looked up at her as she agitatedly waved her copy of Clockwork Boys in the air, trying to express how much she had enjoyed it. You found it hard to believe how different she was from the hard, reluctant person that had first set foot in your shop. Mesmerizing. Just as she was. 

Suddenly you felt brave, braver than you'd ever thought you could be.

“In two weeks the author is going to be at our local book fair, if you'd like…maybe we could…go together?” you stumbled on your words a little and you could feel your cheeks getting hotter but that didn't change the fact that you had managed to ask your crush out!! 

And she didn't say no! She looked a bit stunned for a second but then she ran her free hand through her hair (oh it looked so soft and silky, you wanted to bury your hands in it too).

“Sure! Is it going to be Tuesday in two weeks, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Had she just…?

“Cool, I have the day off anyways, so it works like a charm.” She… She…

While your brain was still reeling, unable to process the fact that she had said yes , she grabbed the stack of post-its and pen and started jotting down something.

You blinked at her, unsure of what to make of the string of numbers you were seeing until she straightened up and handed you the sticky note with a…was it a shy smile pulling her lips up? Her eyes had never looked so big before, of that you were sure.

You looked at the sticky note. It was a pink one, and you had to resist the childish urge to draw hearts all around the numbers. You just were so happy! You thought as you went to save it into your phone, only belatedly noticing a glaring tactical error on your side. 

You still didn't know her name!

You felt like hitting your forehead on the desk. How was this even a thing? Who doesn't know their crush’s name? You, that's who. Too busy ogling her and inviting her to book fairs to remember to ask her her frickin name! 

Hehe. But you did ask her out and she did say yes. That had to count for something, right?

You looked down at your phone and then typed up “ My Knight 🩷 ” in the name field, struggling to contain the giggle that threatened to escape your lips. In another world she would have totally been a proud knight, protecting the defenseless and fighting for justice, you were sure of it. And she would have looked gorgeous in armor. 

Tomorrow, you told yourself. You'd text her to work things out tomorrow. Surely you could resist that long. The fair was ages away anyway. You could resist a handful of hours to avoid seeming desperate, surely you could.

You texted her that same night, of course. 

But she did reply almost instantly, and you managed to start a conversation beyond the bare minimum details of your…was it a date? It had to be a date, right?

She told you about her dinner, and how she had already started on the sequel of the book she had just finished. You could almost feel her excitement through the message.

You fell asleep with your phone beside you on the pillow, dreaming of soft blonde hair and armor  and book fair dates. 

____________

"Are you the one who's been selling Brienne fiction?" 

You were pretty sure you had never seen the man who had just entered your shop as if he owned it. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You know, Brienne? Tall, blonde? Hates all fiction books except the ones you've been selling her?" 

So that was your knight's name! And what a roundabout way to learn it! Just like in the best novels, it seemed that you had been spared the humiliation of asking her for her name after you’d known each other for months. 

Brienne.

You liked the way it sounded. 

Brienne.

It sounded like the name of a warrior, a strong, hard-headed and hard-working woman who'd stop at nothing to achieve her dreams. A knight. 

“I am Jaime by the way, nice to meet you. So are you the one?" He offered you his hand, you took it mechanically, trying to answer his question without giving too much away. Your knight’s reading habits were none of this dude’s business,that’s for sure.

"I don't know if I am the only one. Maybe she just doesn't tell you about all the fiction she enjoys."

"Nice try to defend her honor. I see why she likes you."

She liked you?

Butterflies erupted in your stomach and it took all of your self-control to avoid bursting into a happy dance.

She liked you!! Shelikedyoushelikedyou.

She liked you. 

She liked you.

She liked you !

The man in front of you kept talking, oblivious to the cheering going on within your brain.

"Listen, I know Brienne, okay? She's a lovely girl but I had to bet with her to make her unwind enough to consider reading something for pleasure."

“Well she probably didn't find the right book until now.”

“Or the right book dealer… so are you hers or not?” 

"Maybe I am…But why do you want to know that?"

“Well if you were , I'd owe you a huge thanks and possibly a round of drinks, cause she's been in a downright good mood for the past months, and especially in the past week or so. As her partner, I spend most of the day with her, and believe me, I am beyond grateful for the change.”

Oh.

Her…

Oh.

Of course.

Of course she had a boyfriend. No, a partner. That's even more committed, right?You had been so stupid. Stupid and stupidly hopeful. So hopeful and you'd once again mistaken friendship for something else, just like you did so many times in the past. 

You tried to swallow around that piece of news, you kept on a brave face while he still waffled about something or something else, but you had no idea what he was talking about.Nor did you care, all the joy that had taken over you had just as quickly dissolved, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You didn't remember him leaving, but you knew that you were quick to lock the door after him and close up shop.Only then, surrounded by your beloved books, you allowed yourself to break down and cry all of your tears.

____________

You didn't cancel on Brienne, even if a part of you wanted to do nothing but stay home and mope. Yet you were sure you'd regret it for the rest of your life if you didn't go. 

And she had looked so happy when you had invited her. She probably didn't have a lot of female friends, you thought. When she talked of her hobbies, it had always been things that she did on her own. Working out, reading, jogging. 

She was probably glad to have some company. Someone to talk to that she vibed with. That was that. It had always been that, and you reading more into it didn't change the harsh truth.

Your heart was beating faster when you pulled up to the parking lot of the venue, but it was more due to trepidation than happiness. You had been preparing yourself mentally for a bookish date with your crush, not for…an outing with a friend. You weren't sure how to behave now, your mind too busy going through every single interaction the two of you had had, dissecting each word, each smile, each playful joke at each other's expense. When did you start thinking you could have a chance? At what point had your hopes become delusions?

Your phone started buzzing as you got out of the car. “My Knight 🩷” appeared on the screen, and you had to swallow against a hard knot. 

You know you should have changed the name. You knew her name now, and she most definitely wasn't your knight. And yet…you still hadn't.

With a sigh, you picked up, trying to be optimistic despite the dread pooling in your stomach. You could do this. Friends. You could hang out with your friend that just happened to be the hottest woman you'd ever seen. It was going to be okay. 

_____

It was not okay. 

It was anything but okay. 

Who thought that Brienne was going to be the kind of straight girl that gets all touchy-feely with her female friends? She had hugged you when you two met up and you thought you would die on the spot, surrounded by her arms and her perfume and the happiness of her voice.

And then as you walked through the venue, weaving through the stands, checking out books (you couldn't remember a single one you'd seen, preoccupied as you were with your companion) her hand kept finding excuses to touch you, once on the shoulder to get your attention, once wrapping around your elbow to direct you to a certain stand, once simply splayed on your back as you discussed cover designs.

It was torture. Every time her warm hands touched you, your heart would start racing, still stubborn in its hopefulness. But then you’d remember that it was all in your head and your heart would painfully constrict because oh it would have been so nice if it had just been true.

By the time you sat down in the auditorium where the author panel was about to start, you were a jittering mess. 

You kept replaying each interaction you had with Brienne, trying to rationally explain to your heart why, even if it might seem like she was coming onto you, she had a boyfriend and therefore it had to be her way of being friendly. 

Yes, even when she placed her hand squarely on your knee as the authors started their introductions.

To be honest you weren't sure what had been said at the panel. You mechanically laughed when you felt others do the same, and studied Brienne’s profile out of the corner of your eye. She had a soft smile on her face. As if she was enjoying herself. As if there was nothing wrong with the way her hand was resting on your leg, absentmindedly stroking lazy patterns with her thumb. Driving you mad. 

You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in her touch that you hadn't even noticed that the panel had ended, and most of the spectators had filed away, leaving the two of you alone in the auditorium.

You did notice Brienne shifting in her seat to turn towards you. Mainly because that caused her hand to climb slightly up your leg, putting it decidedly in the thigh area. Clearly an oversight on her part, but you could feel your breathing getting slightly quicker, and looking up to see her stunning eyes trained on you with laser-sharp focus didn't help you with that.

How unfair.

How terribly unfair for her to be so close, and yet unreachable.

How crushing that her hand, searing hot on your thigh, was not a promise of something more.

How sad that you'd never get to kiss those lips even if they were getting closer as Brienne leaned towards you…you could see her blonde lashes fluttering slightly, the small scar on her upper lip, her breath light on your face…

Suddenly she was too close.

Your heart jumped in your throat, and it felt like it had cut off all of your air supply. 

There was a ringing in your ears, and your skin was crawling hot and cold at the same time. 

You could see the little scar on her lip almost flickering, as your vision swam with black, and you knew without any doubt that you had to 

GET OUT OF HERE!! 

______

"So this is where you've been hiding." Brienne's voice was not warm anymore. You guiltily looked up at her from your spot on the bench. She wasn't smiling at you anymore and you wanted to hit yourself for that. It wasn't her fault that you had misunderstood all of her cues and kept seeing what your wishful thinking desired, and yet she had been the one to go through the pains of searching for you while you hid away to work your way down your panic attack.

She sat down beside you, a heavy sigh on her lips.

"I need to ask you something."

Oh. There it comes, you thought. The direct questioning that preceded the gentle let down. The 'I'm flattered but I don't feel the same' speech. As if you had never heard it before. Your heart remembered the pain as if it had been yesterday, and valiantly tried to brace itself for the inevitable rejection.

"Why?"

Huh? That…that was not what you expected her to start with, but she kept talking, and you had no choice but listen. "Why ask me out if you're so clearly uncomfortable with me? Is this some sick joke? It wasn't enough to prove me wrong over and over again? You wanted to humiliate me, too?" 

You could only stare open-mouthed at Brienne as she rained down harsh words on you, anger and pain mixing on her face. She was so beautiful. Even when angry. She looked like a vengeful angel, the righteous hand of God, coming to punish you for daring to hope too much .

"I-I'm sorry." You tried to explain yourself, but she didn't let you, her voice hard and cutting and relentless.

" You are sorry ? Is that all you can say? That's not enough for me. Especially when it's clearly bullshit. Do you think that's the first time people make fun of me? That someone thinks that going out with Brienne The Beauty is the funniest prank on Earth? Did you do it for a laugh, hm? Didn't expect me to say yes when you asked?" 

"No, actually I did not."

"You! The fucking nerv-"

"I didn't dare to hope you'd say yes because you're out of my league!" 

A stunned silence met your words. You didn't know where the strength to interrupt her came from but you had to. You couldn't let her go on thinking you had asked her out to make fun of her or something. And once you started talking, you couldn't help yourself. The truth had to come out, so you pushed on: "Which clearly you are. But you said yes and I…Brienne, I am so sorry. I tend to live in my head and you were so nice to me and I thought…but clearly I shouldn't have. Thank goodness Jaime told me before I made a fool of myself. Which apparently I still did. Fuck. I am sorry for that, I promise you I am enjoying myself today and I am sorry I am awkward and I understand if you don't want to see me anymore after this." 

"Jaime? What does he have to do with all of this? Did…did he set you up to do this?" You could hear the betrayal seeping in her voice and you couldn't bear it. If you couldn't have her, at least you could do your best not to have her break up with her boyfriend over a huge mess of a misunderstanding that you did all by yourself. By thinking you had a chance with this goddess.

Better if she hated you instead. Which she would do anyways. If she didn't already.

"No. Nono he's been nothing but friendly. He just dropped by the shop because he was curious about the books you've been reading." 

"Then why did you bring him up?"

"I didn't know, okay? When I asked you to come here, I didn't know."

"What didn't you know?" Oh she wasn't making it easy on you, was she? 

"I thought…I thought you might be interested in me - which I now realize is ridiculous. That's why I asked you out. I asked you and you said yes and you gave me your number and I thought it meant…I swear I didn't know! But then he told me and now I can't help but be awkward because I had thought this was a date and now it's not and I didn't want to ruin it for you which I guess I did anyways. I swear I didn't know when I asked you."

" Know what ? What did Jaime tell you?"

"That he's your…That you're his…That you two are together. Which makes sense, because you are so well assorted and you look perfect for each other and I am sure he can make you happy in ways that–" 

"WHAT?" The roar that came out of Brienne's mouth was almost feral.

"What 'what'?" You babbled back. You looked worriedly at her shaking hands. You knew she was going to be angry at you once she found out about your silly crush. But you still hoped she wouldn't hit you or something. She didn't seem like she'd be the type to take out her anger on you but…but those hands looked like weapons, clenched as they were into tight fists. 

"WHAT DID HE TELL YOU?"

You flinched away. You couldn't help it. The loud angry voice booming next to you, the hand shooting out towards your shoulder…you flinched away, your hands instinctively coming up to shield your face. Trying to make yourself as small as possible. Just as instinctively, apologies started dropping out of your mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" 

Silence.

Well, not really silence but the soothing pitter-patter of rain on the tin roof above you. 

But no words.

No more loud anger.

And no new pain blooming on your body.

You dared to open your eyes and peer beyond your hands. 

Brienne…well, she was beautiful, as always. But she was also white as a sheet, her deep, blue, stunning eyes wide open and bright with unshed tears. Her whole face a mask of hurt as her gaze took in your shape, as far away from her as the small bench allowed you. Her hand was still in the air, but it had lost all the strength, it was just hanging, palm half-opened towards you as if to show you it was harmless. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a broken whisper.

"I…I wasn't going to hit you."

"I…huh…I'm sorry."

She sighed and straightened in her seat, tearing her eyes away from you to settle them on her hands, now clenched in her lap. Her back was once again ramrod straight. Just as she probably was , your mind cruelly reminded you.

"No. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, to make you think that I was…unsafe. I guess that with how I look, it's an easy assumption to make."

"Beautiful."

"I'm sorry?" 

"You said 'with how I look' and that's beautiful. You're beautiful, Brienne. He's a really lucky man."

It wasn't her fault and you knew it. You couldn't blame her for this huge misunderstanding, you couldn't let her think that she or her appearance was to blame for your reactions.

You put your hand on top of hers, trying to get her eyes back on you, to show her how truthful you were. Her hands were so cold. She still didn't look at you.

"He…We huh we're not together together." Her whisper was so soft that you thought you had misheard.

You had to. 

"I'm sorry?"

"Jaime and I are not together." 

"You two…are not?"

"No! I don't know why he would…wait. What did he say? What were his words?"

"Huhhh I don't remember exactly. He said something about you being his partner." You tried to keep the accusation out of your voice. She didn't seem like the type to try to cheat on her partner, denying she was in a relationship at all. Gaslighting you for her own ends. And yet, you didn't dare to hope that…

"Oh for fuck's sake! Is this where all of this came from? He's my work partner . Not my romantic partner!"

"Your… oh . Fuck."

"Yes, fuck. And since we're on the subject, when you asked me, I thought it was going to be a date as well, that's why I gave you my number!! But then we were here and you kept avoiding me and you tensed up every time I touched you and when I tried to kiss you you just ran away and I thought…I don't know what I thought."

"Could you maybe…try that again?"

"Try what?"

"To kiss me. I promise I won't run away this time. Or have a panic attack."

"Just like that? That's not how it's done! The moment must be right and mmmmph–"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You threw yourself at her, lips on lips, slightly smashing your noses together in your haste. 

But neither of you cared, lips moving against each other, her hand tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, and both of yours coming up to cradle her face. You didn’t care, because unbeknownst to the other, each one of you had dreamed of this moment so many times, and yet now that it was happening it was better than any fantasy. 

Comments are always welcome. If you want to read more of my fanfictions, here's my masterlist.

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #got fanfiction #asoiaf

[vaultie-and-theghoul]

Whatever you do, do not Draw Attention to Yourself

Lucy and the Ghoul had been traveling together going on three days now. Things had been a bit different since that first night together. She was still numb, still unable to ask the questions that she needed answered. On the outside, the Ghoul seemed unfazed but Lucy noticed his eyes lingering on her. She wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to have another breakdown or maybe he was afraid she would become violent. The idea of violence was appealing, but unfortunately, there wasn't a single extra ounce of energy left in Lucy's numb body.

"Pst, Vaultie," the Ghoul whispered, pulling her behind one of the large rock piles to their left, "You see that over there?" His hand reached forward, index finger pointing to a dark spot in the distance. Before her eyes could focus on what the Ghoul was pointing at, Lucy was distracted by his finger. The flesh of his index finger was pale and smooth in comparison to its brothers. It was expertly sewn to the thick leathery skin just past the second knuckle. Looking down at her discolored finger, she boxed up that question and placed it in the ever-growing pile in her mind.

"Sweetheart are ya listenin'," the ghoul snapped his fingers in front of her face, "I said, that little speck in the distance is a settlement. There will be recourses and shops there, but whatever you do, do not draw attention to yourself."

Lucy flared with hot anger that was quickly doused by more memories of her doing just that. Time after time she had in one way or another drawn attention to herself or her companion.

"I'll do my best," Lucy said, dryly, "Why are we stopping?" The look on the Ghoul's face said he had already explained it, but Lucy couldn't care at the moment.

With a heavy sigh, the Ghoul said, "Well, I may be able to survive on ass jerky and dirty water, but a Vaultie like you needs actual nutrition. 'Sides this cowboy could use some more chems."

Lucy followed behind the Ghoul, Dogmeat at his side. The closer the settlement became, the more her nerves got the best of her. Could she handle another trauma right now? Was every town and settlement like the ones she had been to so far? The panic-induced thoughts spiraled until she ran right into the Ghoul who had stopped suddenly. Instead of cursing at her, like Lucy was expecting, he reached around his back and pulled her flush against his back.

"Everything is going to be alright," the Ghoul's voice was soft and soothing, "We will be in, out, and back on the road before you know it." Lucy took a moment to steady herself, leaning into the cowboy's back. She inhaled deeply, once again intoxicated by his scent. Lucy swore that the mystery fragrance was stronger than it had been last time.

"Okey dokey," Lucy sighed into his back, "Let's get this over with."

Lucy stayed in the shadows and let the Ghoul make his rounds. She watched him saunter between vendor stands, taking "free samples" as he liked to call it. Lucy wondered if the vendors noticed and were too afraid or if he was just that good. A little bit of both. She couldn't deny his charisma. The Ghoul was rough and tumble, snarky, and had a sharp tongue to match. Yet, Lucy had seen glimpses of someone behind the hard exterior. The night he held her while she sobbed, he even stopped making rude comments each time he helped her over an obstacle.

As Lucy watched her Ghoul do what he does best, she noticed a man off to the side who would move each time her Ghoul did. Her stomach turned to concrete, heavy with dread. Lucy monitored the strange man for a few movements longer before she took action. Ever so slowly, Lucy made her way around the market's perimeter until she was in earshot.

"Target sighted, be on the lookout for CX404," the stranger said into a two-way radio. Lucy's body jumped into action before her brain could stop her.

"Uh, Mister," Lucy said, jumping into the man's line of sight, "Could you tell me where to get one of those handy radios?" Her voice was overly excited in an attempt to hide her nerves. The man looked Lucy up and down before he grinned evilly.

He brought the radio back to his lips and pressed the button, "Target Lucy MacLean soon to be in custody." Lucy sucked in a deep breath ready to yell her cowboy's name. Except, Lucy only knew him by "the ghoul". That split second of hesitation was enough for the mercenary to shove something dry and dirty into her mouth before punching her in the gut. All of the air rushed from Lucy's lungs and her head swam. Whatever was shoved in her mouth must be coated in a drug.

Lucy's vision darkened around the edges, she was going to pass out. She frantically searched until her eyes landed on the Ghoul's back. He wasn't going to turn around in time was her last thought before Lucy lost consciousness.

Cooper had noticed the duo of mercenaries the moment he stepped foot in the market. It was only a matter of time before someone put a price on their heads. Coop knew better than to bring attention to them or himself. He had a plan you see. Go in, get the things he needed for his Vaultie, and high tail it out of there. They could deal with the Mercs on the road instead of in town.

That was until said Vaultie had defied his orders and confronted the merc tailing Cooper. By the time he had turned around to see what was causing the commotion, Lucy was already out cold. Stupid fuck hadn't taken into account the extra weight of the Vaulties pack and was struggling to move her.

"All that looting was good for something I guess," Cooper said under his breath. Time to show these assholes that it ain't so easy to capture ol' Coop and his Vaultie. He inhaled through his open nose, the dry air filling his sinuses and clearing his mind.

"Excuse me, kind Sir," Cooper called to the struggling mercenary, "I do believe that belongs to me." He watched in annoyance as the merc reached for his gun. Why do they always have to go for the damn guns? In the blink of an eye, Cooper had his pistol pulled out and pulled the trigger. The mercenary's hat flew off, a smoking hole dead center.

"Now son, you have one chance and one chance only," Cooper closed the distance between them and brought the barrel of his gun to the man's forehead, "You leave this pretty little thing to me, and you and that buddy of yours skedaddle." Cooper saw the hesitation in the man's eyes and cocked the hammer, "Dont you think I won't blow your brains out right here."

"Fuck, shit okay okay," the mercenary dropped Lucy and scrambled to his feet.

"Tell whoever sent you that it's gonna take more than two shitty mercs to capture us," Cooper called after the man as he rushed away. The market around them had fallen silent, "alright everyone shows over."

The hustle and bustle of the market started up again, violence was all too familiar to those of us on the surface. As he hoisted his Vaultie over his shoulder, Cooper couldn't help but chuckle. Lucy just couldn't follow the rules. Something that pissed him off to no end, but it was also something he admired. What could his life have been like if he quit following the rules all those years ago?

AO3 Part 1 Prequel

#Vaultie and The Ghoul #fallout the ghoul #cooper howard #dogmeat #fallout fanfiction #fallout #lucy maclean #the ghoul #ghoulcy #fallout prime #vaultghoul #lucy x cooper #vaultie and the ghoul #walton goggins

[four-rabbit]

*Comes into the room covered in blood*I have thoughts about autistic Kabru

- His special interest is either psychology, sociology or anthropology

- He's high masking ofc

-He barely feels hunger or tiredness or the need to go to the bathroom until its almost too late. He constantly feels what he can only describe as "bad vibes" just to realize he hasn't eaten/slept in days. If you see him suddenly get up with panic in his eyes and run away that's because he just realized he has to go to the bathroom NOW

- He either only sleeps for like two hours per night or ten straight hours no in between

- When unmasked he's a non stop intense eye contact girlie.

- I think most of his stims are vocal and I'm convinced that he has so much echolalia

- He loves gossip simply because he's always happy to learn things about people. Even people he has never met and will never meet

- He cleans his room like once a month and it stays clean for a day at best.

- He cannot stand bland food. For example, hard boiled eggs. Just no. This is projection.

- He doesn't hate physical contact, but he always prefers to be the one initiating it.

- I feel like he sleeps in a very specific position.

- I think he same foods without even realizing and only notices it when someone points out he has been eating the same thing for month now.

- Another stim he has is twirling his hair it just makes sense to me. I can see him doing it when he's trying to think

#this is like 80% just me projecting #i have so many emotions about him #kabru dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #kabru

[yorsgirl]

Guide me?With Pleasure

Sukuna x Fem!Reader (ft. Yorozu)

Synopsis: Better than being hostile to the other woman, have her fall for you. Lowkey, have your boyfriend jealous as well.

Tropes: Established relationship

Warnings: Strong language, suggestive, cheating(maybe?) implied stalking, smoking, jealous!Sukuna(cause he's a adorable baby), Reader is kinda hateable, kinda toxic relationship, this series or wtv is almost satrical so just give the logical side of your brain a rest and enjoy, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: I am so scared to post this after that mega fucking blunder but whatever this was promised so here it is :)

Credits to @cursedvibes for making this post which helped me characterize Yorozu in this one.

Previous (recommended to read)

You had every quality of being the perfect boyfriend. But you were born as a girl.

Don't believe it? Let's rewind back to last Friday night.

Leaning against the wall in front of Yorozu's dormitory, you patiently wait for her while scrolling through your phone. Your watched ticked - 7:05 PM Given, it is significantly earlier than the perceived dinner time in your area. However, only dinner isn't in your list tonight. Could've worked with only a dinner but no, that's like bare minimum. Like come on, if you are taking out Yorozu on a date then you were determined to make it a memorable one.

Laughable, indeed it is. Who could've guessed? You were taking out the woman-the one considered to be the other woman in your relationship - on a date.

Life has a funny sense of humor.

---》《---

"I was hurt," You proclaim with a furrow of eyebrows.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused." You snicker, stepping up to the black-haired woman who gazed at you with a perplexed look. "But why didn't you text me, sweetheart? I was waiting for, you know."

"Stop calling me that." Annoyance laced her tone. "I don't even know you-"

"We are classmates."

"Doesn't fucking matter, I am not interested."

"Now, that hurt for real." You state, keeping your fist over your chest. "Its fine though, I don't mind. I just wanted to let you know the details of our date-"

"I am not going on any date with you. Now leave me the fuck alone." She turned on her heels, moments from sprinting out from your vicinity.

"Hey, wait-"

You had no plan on letting her leave so quick. It was difficult enough to locate her in your vast college campus. Like damn- you didn't know none of your subjects matched with her except ecology but you had switched it to additional so you it was seldom you attended that lecture. (Just enough times to fulfil the attendance quota). However, this time you attended it in order to meet her.

"What now?" She glanced back, a glare directly aimed at you; making you swallow a lump.

Two thoughts rang in your mind at that second.

First - damn, that's scary.

Second - damn, that's hot.

You sighed, clasping your hand behind your back, "See, its fine if you don't want to go on a date. Why don't you keep it platonic then? Like friends-"

"You're not my friend."

"I can be." You sheepishly smile causing her to roll her eyes. "Come on, it won't be that bad."

With an irritated scowl, she asks, "Will you stop bothering me if I say yes?"

"Can you exempt a pick-up line or two in between?"

"That's it. I am leaving."

"Wait, wait- fine. I will not bother you again."

"You swear?" She tilts her aside.

"I swear."

"Fine."

---》《---

Fine, you agree you were overbearing. While sinking into the sheets that night and playing the day's events on repeat, you got second hand embarrassment at your persuasive attitude.

You keep your phone inside your purse once the sound of a door opening reached your ears. Mesmerized would be an understatement. Your eyes widened, lips parting as you stand watching the girl walk out of her dorm.

Yorozu didn't dress up in anything extravagant. Just a casual outfit with a touch of make up. Man did it not enchance her features? You were aware she was beautiful but now- you were wonderstruck.

God, women are the prettiest.

"My, you look gorgeous." You state breathily, almost transfixed by her.

"Not for yo–"

You hold a red tulip before her face – halting her speech. A smile graces your lips as you tilt your head aside, "I know but there's no harm in stating the obvious, is it?"

Yorozu accepts the flower, gazing at it with suspicion and mild awe. The soft, honey-like fragrance hits her, she raises an eyebrow, "What's this for?"

"A pretty flower for a pretty girl."

"You said you wouldn't flirt."

"As I said, stating the obvious. That's not flirting," You shrug, putting emphasis on the particular word. Offering her your hand, you asked, "So, shall we?"

She looks at you skeptically then at your hand before walking towards the exit on her own; without a word.

Her attitude is in sharp contrast to her face.

(Could you blame her though? You coerced her into this outing the first place.)

You sigh, running up to her then falling on step. The cool evening air hit your skin, strands of your hair blowing with the wind – you push the ones back which clouded your vision.

You can just hope this doesn't turn negative.

.

Fifteen minutes into this, none of you speak a word.

In your defence, you don't know what to say; besides, striking up an ideal conversation on your own isn't your forte. Yorozu doesn't make the effort to converse with you either, glancing at the streets or up ahead. It's kind of awkward however not completely. You can thank the cars and bikes speeding on the road to cut through the tension.

Tension... that reminds you of someone else and that someone else didn't make the effort to call you one single time. You grit your teeth, inwardly fuming at the lack of concern. Sure, you told him all about this little plan of yours and all he was like - enjoy.

Seriously? Enjoy?

No, not his problem. Just mine to keep any ounce of expectation.

You sarcastically thought, throwing silent profanities inside your mind. Until you hear Yorozu speakp, "Where are we going?"

You hum, stealing a glance at her. Tipping your chin forward to the end of the pavement, you answer, "Somewhere you'll like."

"And if I don't?"

"You will."

She looks at you, raising an eyebrow. "You sure are confident."

"Why? Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Sure, sweetie." You pinch your lips together, stifling the chuckle on your lips.

Twenty minutes later, which includes a ten minute bus ride, both of you were arrived at your chosen location. You smile as the establishment comes into view.

"Here we are."

Yorozu halts just beside you, her eyes widening when the realization dawns on her. "This place–"

"Mino insectarium," You say, clasping your hands behind your back as you take a once over at the sign board in front of it. Turning to her, you continue, "I heard from a friend of yours that you are interested in entomology, so–" You trail off, shrugging. "Do you like it?"

Surprise betrayed Yorozu's features. She stares at you for a second; at the insectarium the next, then back at you. She doesn't speak at first and you are left on the verge to contemplate on your own if this was a good enough place.

The doubts clear out when a grin cracks on her lips, the corner of her eyes crinkle. Her eyes gleam under the streetlight; that's the moment you realize just how pretty this woman looked while smiling.

"I love it." She affirms, the enthusiasm in her tone doesn't elude you.

"Told you."

"You did."

"Now," You start, running your fingers through your hair. "I am a novice in case of insects–" You take that she understands what you're implying when she nods. You try your luck again. Holding up your hand.

"Guide me?"

"With pleasure."

Yorozu takes your hand this time, tugging you towards the entrance; you struggle, trying to keep up with her excitement. 

That smile doesn't leave her for the rest of your date.

.

Two remarkable things happened in this date.

First: You learnt that Yorozu just isn't interested in insects. She's fucking obsessed.

And mind you, that obsession turned enthusiasm is what raises Yorozu's rank in your book. She walks you through with every little knowledge she has of these little creatures; from their habitats to their intricate nervous system and more. You can agree sometimes you lose do track with all these informations but- but its still fun. (Like did you know some some larvae of fireflies are predatory and they mimic other fireflies to attract and consume them?)

Don't you just love it when people talk so passionately about subjects they love?

Second: You earned a nickname.

This stems from when you both walked into the beetle section.

"You're like a beetle, you know."

Caught off-guard, you pivot towards her; she's looking at the mentioned creatures. The varieties take up a wall, each with a different colour, shape and size – placed on a wall in such a way that it creates an illusion of a larger beetle.

Creativity never goes out of style.

"Why do you think so?" You ask.

"Why not? You resemble them."

"How?"

"You are stubborn, just like beetles."

Alright, that was a low blow.

You might need time getting used to her bluntness. For now, that marks as negative and you were seconds away from pushing her down the ranks in your book until she started speaking again.

"They are highly adaptive to any habitat, one of the reason they are one of the largest species," She pauses and turns to you. "This adaptability can turn into stubbornness but it also comes with resilence with the factor of transformation to turn the situation which favours them."

You blink at her. Once. Twice. "You think I am all that?"

"Seventy percent sure."

"And thirty percent unsure. That's still high to prove you incorrect."

"May not." She muses, turning to the insects again.

You aren't sure what to say and she doesn't make it easier with going into all these details.

A chuckle escapes her, "A part of you will be all that to me. Like c'mon you got me to come here with you even after a couple rejections, that's a proof in itself."

"Well uhm, thanks." It comes off more as a question which you don't want to be. Though a part of you does feel contended. At least, she has a good image of you now.

"Would you mind being called Atlas?"

"Atlas?" You raise an eyebrow. "Like the book of maps? Where does that come from?"

She shakes her head, "No, not that Atlas. Atlas as in, the Atlas beetle. Largest known beetle, visually beautiful and strong as hell. Everything which you are."

Time for you to be shocked cause did she just call you beautiful? And strong? And stubborn? Damn this woman... You can't help the laugh that leaves your lips soon after. She really has a way with her words.

"So... may I?" She asks again.

"I don't see why not." You reply after your laughter dies down. "Atlas, has a nice ring to it."

"Glad you like it, Atlas."

That's your new nickname.

Nothing significant occurs after the visit to the insectarium.

All you do is have dinner in a pretty modest restaurant then walk back Yorozu to her dorm. Though, the long thirty minutes walk seemed shorter than it should have.

When you bid her farewell, Yorozu is one step ahead as she side hugs you and tells, "Thank you."

While you're walking away from her dorm, you've a stupid grin on your face too.

.

"Atlas. What are you? Some book?"

The familiar voice catches you off guard. You swiftly turn on your heels and yes, there he is. Leaning against his bike while holding a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You question, narrowing your eyes as a scowl makes it's way onto your face. You've only crossed a couple of blocks from the college dormitory and lo and behold, you find Sukuna.

He takes a generous puff on the stick before blowing out a chunk of smoke. For reasons, he refuses to look at you, carmine eyes fixed on the lighted tube. He speaks, "You sure had fun in your date."

"Well, uh yeah. It was good–"

"Right." He scoffs. "Got a new nickname too. Absolutely adorable."

His sarcasm doesn't elude you, your eyes narrow as you put two and two together, stepping up to him. "You were stalking me?"

"That's another way to call it." His lip quirks up.

"Like what?"

"Like," He muses, standing up straight. "I prefer the term a curiously observant bystander."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, pressing your lips in a thin line as your hands fold over your chest. There's a lingering emotion on the back of your mind which you can't put your finger on except it treads the line between annoyance and amusement.

Sukuna drops his cigarette before stomping on it and turns towards his bike. He swings his leg over the vehicle, getting on top of it. "There," He jerks his thumb back, indicating you to get on "Or you can just get drenched in the rain."

Just then a flickering light shines all over the area, the next second, a thunder roars through the sky. The best and most rational decision would be to go home with him. But did I mention that you will show defiance just for the sake of it?

"Mhm, no thanks." A sarcastic grin gets plastered on your lips. "Yorozu's dorm isn't–"

You don't get to finish your sentence before Sukuna puts (borderline pushes) a spare helmet on your head. His eyes narrow, hatred burns within them, jaw clenches then unclenches as he faces you. "Get on before I make you."

What's with that tone?

Confusion plagues you and you are about to question but he beats you to it.

"And," He pauses, "Don't you dare utter that bitch's name from your mouth again."

Asshole. Nah, you are not hearing any shit about Yorozu now. Now when she's on your‐ alright, if not a friend, at least she's not on your hate list now.

"And don't you dare call her a bitch now. She has a name for your information."

"Protective, are we?" He scoffs, raising an eyebrow.

"And what's the problem with that?"

"Everything." He states, tipping his face aside, he signals for you to get on again. "I will use force if I have to." He warns.

Your lips twists down. Something is definitely wrong with him. You could feel it.

From somewhere, the part of your brain associated with intelligence starts working and everything clicks in place.

Does he not sound jealous?

Suddenly, the urge to strangle someone is converted to the urge to stifle your laughter. Only a week ago, it was you in his place being jealous of the exact same person.

Oh, just how the tables have turned.

With a snort past your lips, you decide it's best to just give in today.

"Sure, your highness." You tease, before fastening your helmet as Sukuna starts the engine of his bike. You climb on the vehicle, grasping him abdomen tightly. A heat creeps onto your cheeks when the firmness of his chiseled skin pokes on your fingertips over his shirt. However, all of those fleeting thoughts are pushed away as the cool night air hits your skin and Sukuna speds off.

Another lightning struck across the sky. Fortunately or no- better word would be thankful.

Thankfully to Sukuna's skill and precision with the mechanism of his bike, both of you reach home before the relentless downpour could start.

"Switch off the freezer." You say, "I will plug out the TV." He follows through and so do you with your mild responsibility.

The night commences as another ordinary for both of you.

On the other side of the city, a woman sits aside a window sill, watching the rain drizzle on the glass as it slids down.

She holds a red tulip tenderly.

.

Bonus scene from your date with Yorozu

"Before I forget, Sukuna is my boyfriend. Can you not cling onto him?"

"Didn't you say you liked me?"

"Well about that–"

"Do you have a slot open for a girlfriend?"

Tags: @toffeebrat

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x you #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna jjk #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk #sukuna #ryomen sukuna fanfiction #sukuna fanfic #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna fluff #yorozu #yorozu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[angllicjk]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐏𝐉𝐌

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Best Friend!Jimin X Best Friend!(fem)Reader Ft Jungkook

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.3K

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You realize that you’re never going to get the happy ending that you thought you deserved with the former love of your life. However, you soon find that perhaps the love you should have had from the start was beside you all along.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Angst, heartbreak(poor oc), unrequited feelings(jm & oc), pining(jm & oc), breakdown, lots of crying, lots of realizations, implied infidelity, mentions of pregnancy, implied sex, oc was a home wrecker for a bit lol, jk being an asshole, hurt, comfort & tiny tiny fluff.

A/N: Hiii Luvs <3 I wanted to write something kind of angsty this time lol. I rlly liked writing this & I MIGHT do a follow-up or a drabble, maybe even a one-shot on these two in the future. I just can’t leave my precious babies like this. With that being said, I hope you enjoy this 🫶🏻

In a single second, all it takes is the glimpse of a sparkling 5 carat round brilliant cut diamond secured upon her ring finger she shows off to the whole group to end your entire world. Everything around you becomes a blur and muffled into complete silence as your eyes zeroed in on the rock that seemed to mock you in the face with its beautiful glint of the soft yellow string lights overhead. You wanted to scream, cry, throw up, all of the above. A nauseating yet frustrating rage brewing up inside of you that took everything in you to withhold.

It definitely costed a fortune. She’s practically wearing the cost of a house you could never afford on your own.

He’d really do that for her?

Would he have ever proposed to you?

What about you!?

There’s a soft palm planting itself over your hand resting in your lap, tightening with a light stern of your name whispering at your side you barely take note of amongst the loud chatter around the table.

“Y/N.”

Oh. You already know and you don't need to be told or reminded to keep your cool but how could Jimin expect you to when the cause of such madness burning fiery flames in your eyes unfolds before you.

“We can leave now if you want. Seriously.”

“Too early isn’t it?.” You reply monotonously, eyes glued to the two happy figures standing on the other side of the round mahogany wood table in front of you and you haven’t so much as moved an inch like you're frozen solid in place.

“It’s not. Y/N, you don’t have to keep torturing yourself by being here. He hasn’t even come over and talked to you or even looked at you the whole night.” He says with a bitter rasp not angled towards you and a touch of worry as he wiggles your hand in your lap as a last resort to gain your attention.

You’ve completely lost it. He knows it. Jimin can see it in your lifeless orbs that glisten a tad. Same ones that were shining beautifully like stars in the night sky and crinkling with an equally pretty smile to accompany it just moments ago as you all reminisced about college days together.

It’s all gone now. Jimin doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to see it again, as heartbreaking as that is.

All because of that dumbass brat standing in front of him, so cozied up with his now fiancée. Jimin loved the guy like a brother he never had. Have always looked out for him and always stood by his side when he needed it. But Jimin had never felt so much rage and great disappointment for the boy like he does now. The feeling settled long ago when you came to him crying because of the fool and it made a home deep in the pit of his heart. It’s never going away now. Not when you’re like this. Not when he has to see you in such a way again. Not when he’s finally done it. Broken a part of you that should have never been played with in the first place.

Jungkook’s beautiful doe eyes meet yours for the first time tonight and you remember the tingling feeling you’d get in your gut. The quickening of your breath and uncontainable cheesy smiles you couldn’t hide because he always had your heart racing like that. Always had you at heart with every fiber of your entire being. You don’t even feel any of it. Not anymore. Especially not when he’s looking at you the way he does now. So pitiful and uncomfortable as if he’s the one in your position.

Those same dreadful eyes leave yours so fleetingly and back to the ones that sparkle up at him. Like he regretted even so much as sparing a glance your way. They gleam bright and he smiles so widely down at her, all toothy and showcasing just how happy he is. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you like that before.

“I can’t be here anymore. Please get me out of here.”

The words barely pushed past your clenched teeth and your hand had turned in Jimin’s hold, tightening around them with a vice grip, he let you. He wasted no time lifting you by your laced hands and getting you out of there, uncaring about your friends all around you. It didn’t matter anyways, no one had batted a single eye nor glanced your way at your sudden departure. Too busy congratulating the newly engaged and expecting lovers.

“Y/N.” Jimin follows swiftly behind as you storm out of the restaurant, bursting through the double-door entrance with a harshness that even scared him for a second.

“I’m so fucking stupid!.”

It’s hoarse and it hurts to hear the tremble in your voice as you cry out so suddenly, desperately holding yourself together with arms folded so tightly over your chest as you walk ahead to the parking lot and into the cold night, heels clacking hard against the graveled pavement.

Jimin keeps his close distance behind and once you get to the familiar parked car of his, he watches you slump your back against it, letting him see your tear stained face under the gleaming moonlight. A witness to your unforgiving chaos of heartbreak and misfortunes.

“I didn’t think-…I thought things were okay. I thought it was finally going to be okay.” You whisper so small and it’s fragile like the state you’re put in. It makes him want to pull you in his loving embrace and forever protect you, like Jimin always wanted to in the first place because you deserved so much more. So much more than that asshole. He’s made such a mess of you and he doesn’t even know it.

Your red stinging eyes drift up to meet him and the sight is enough to break his own heart in two.

“I thought he loved me.” Bottom lip quivering, mascara streaks lining your cheeks and heartbreak shattering your entire resolve. So hopeless and pained sobbing out your sorrows in front of him.

He can’t handle it.

How could Jungkook do this to you?.

Tonight felt like a regular outing with close friends and it was at first until Jungkook stood up with Isabel(his girlfriend/ur ex best friend) so suddenly, announcing their engagement and her pregnancy to the whole group. Everyone bursted out with cheers and congrats, overjoyed for the happy couple while you sat there numb with a dark storm thundering inside of you. Perplexed trying to process what was happening because just a week ago you were lying in Jungkook’s bed after he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you. Held you tight right after and stayed with you the entire night until early morning arrived. Promising that he had ended things with her. Promising himself to you and the life you thought you could finally have with him.

What happened?.

It’s no wonder why he canceled on you these last few days when you tried to meet up with him, never picking up your calls or constant text messages you left. Did he even see them or bothered to read them?.

Jungkook was never going to end things, at least not with Isabel.

Jungkook was never going to take you seriously.

That night with you was his final goodbye sprinkled with fake lies and fake promises.

“I just….I thought for once I was going to be happy. For once I finally had this one thing that I thought I deserved. He always loved Isabel, huh?. It was always going to be her. Not me. Now they’re-“ You get choked up by your sob, it racks through you as you cry at the thought of them bringing a mini them into this world. Not you and Jungkook like you always dreamed of.

“Now they’re fucking engaged and she’s pregnant with the baby I was supposed to have!.” Your voice raises an octave higher, bloodshot pupils shaking as you stare at an equally distressed Jimin.

He sighs with exhaustion, shaking his head at the words you speak.

“Y/N. You don’t deserve this. You don’t need him. All he’s ever done is cause you pain. You deserve better than that. Better than him.”

It’s like you don’t hear the words he’s saying with the way you disregard him, eyes blown wide with madness as you continue to rant your frustrations. Completely lost in the boiling rage and sadness that consumes you.

“I met him first!. He was my friend first!. He liked me!. Why is it always her?. Why does she always take the ones I love?. Everything I want!?.” Like a toddler throwing a tantrum you yell, stomping your heels upon the concrete below you and continuing to cry your eyes out in a complete mess.

Jimin steps in front of you, invading your space and grasping your shoulders to gently shake you off the nonsense you're driving yourself crazy with.

“Y/N!.”

You wail, puffy and glossed eyes staring up at him. He’s never seen you so broken and fragile before. Jimin hates the sight so fucking much.

“It’s not fair. What did I do to deserve this?.”

Nothing. You were simply just a fool too in love with a greater one, too blinded to see him for the twisted monster he really is.

“I know what I was doing was wrong, but Jimin I couldn’t help it. I loved him. He said all the right things, made all the right moves. He made it so easy. Why was I so stupid to think he would ever really choose me.”

Oh, you poor thing.

He furrows his brow, face twisted with anger and cups your face to make you see him and make you realize the truths that he speaks. He’s done seeing you get torn apart and tossed like junk that serves no purpose in the world.

“Jungkook is a fucking asshole, okay. This isn’t just your fault. It’s his too. He’s full of shit, he messed with you and went behind Isabel’s back. I'm sure she knows about you two, but you know what. To hell with it all, they deserve each other. Their fucked up. You don’t deserve any of this.” He breathes heavily, driven by rage and pent up frustration for months, even years on end with the bullshit you got yourself caught up in.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight and let yourself fall into his warm embrace, grasping his waist tightly in dire need of comfort and touch. Jimin is always ready to comply, resting his chin upon the crown of your hair, one arm holding your waist tightly and the other caressing the back of your head in a comforting manner. It all softens your resolve, calms you down a bit and it’s almost enough to mend a few pieces of your wounded heart.

“Can you please take me home, Mini. I can't be here any longer.” Jimin hears you muffle against his chest and he pulls apart momentarily to look down at you.

You still look a mess but a pretty one and his heart melts, both for your saddened gaze and the way you still make him swoon, tear stained and all. How could Jungkook ever fuck with a beautiful soul like you?.

His thumbs wipe your cheeks of flowing tears, cupping your face in his loving hold.

“Of course, sweetheart. C’mon.”

+

The both of you had long settled into bed the moment Jimin brought you to his home, letting you stay the night with him because being all alone in your humble abode wasn’t something you could handle at a time like this.

Finally rid of the Pearl satin dress and killer heels, ruined makeup cleaned off. Nestled beside him amongst his soft sheets, bare faced and clad in one of Jimin’s cozy t-shirts that almost swallows your frame and nearly covers your bottom. You lye still awake staring up at the ceiling wondering where it all went wrong.

“Honey, you're still awake?.” His deep groggy voice sounds throughout the otherwise silence of his dark bedroom.

“Could you blame me?. I don’t think I can sleep tonight.” You turn on your side to face him, trying to get comfy in this new position.

Jimin watches you silently, turnt on his side as well as he scoots just a tad closer. He knows you’ve probably still have a lot on your mind. Though, what he really wants is to reach for your hand and hold it. Pull you in his arms and hold you the whole night. Steal you away from ugly thoughts that plague your mind.

“I just hate how much it hurts and how I let myself get to this point.” A humorless chuckle tumbles past your lips at the thought, tears blurring your vision and some cascade down your face so freely.

Jimin can’t help but take notice of how angelic you look underneath the moonlight that filters through his open sheer curtains, with glossy eyes, rosy cheeks and pretty plush lips that look so delectable. It’s everything about you that drives him crazy. Makes him want to act a fool too. It’s what makes him want to raise his head and kiss you so badly. Kiss the hurt, pain and sadness of yours away. Replace the memories, images and touches of Jungkook’s engraved in your head and body with his own.

Make you finally realize that he’s right here. He’s always been here all along for you.

Make you see him truly for the person he is, for the man that he could be for you, for the love that you deserve.

He would quite literally give his heart to you. It’s already in the palm of your hands, you just don’t know it yet.

But not like this. Not when you're still heartbroken over Jungkook. Not when you're vulnerable and in the process of getting over that asshole.

He refuses to be a rebound.

All he wants in this moment is to keep being your friend. Someone you could always lean on, talk to and share your thoughts with. He knows it’s all you need right now.

“I just want to be happy too. I want to find it for myself.”

“I believe you can. Y/N, you deserve the whole world and I hope that when you do, that it’s genuine, that it’s kind and all the love you could ever want, that it doesn’t hurt and that you're truly happy.”

“That's all I want for you. Beautiful girl like you deserves a love that’s everlasting.”

You waver, eyes fluttering and fresh hot tears spring in the corners of your eyes. Heart softening and you melt at his sweet words. He sparks something inside of you that you didn’t know was possible anymore, not after the hell you’ve just been through tonight. A light shining at the other end of the dark tunnel. A bud blooming in a garden full of dead roses.

Jimin has always made you feel special. Always put you first and was always there by your side no matter what, just like a best friend should, but now that you look at him in a different light underneath the moon. You start to wonder when you didn't notice this and perhaps if it’s something more.

When has he always looked at you like this?. As if you’re the only girl in the world.

When did he have your heart racing like this?. Had you swoon over him the way you find yourself doing so now.

“Come here, let’s get some rest. Sweetheart, you need it.” Jimin pulls you closer by the waist and you comply so easily, splaying yourself over his chest. His arms envelop around your smaller frame and holds you tight into his comforting embrace. So warm and loving, you never want to leave.

“Good night, Mini.”

“Good night, love.”

Love. A tear escapes and trails down your cheek, you let it fall, just like you start to let yourself fall for the man holding you tight. For the man who always held you dear to him, who never wronged you and wishes for you to find true love.

You could only hope that maybe it could be him.

As you think about this and reminisce about your times spent together throughout these past seven years, you start to realize that Jungkook was never the one for you, that meeting him and Jimin around that time in college at a party. Perhaps it was always supposed to be Jimin.

A sinking feeling in your chest and stomach settles when you think this and your grip around him tightens.

You fall asleep that night wondering if Jimin could possibly ever truly see you that way too and Jimin falls asleep wondering the same thing. If you could ever love him back the way he’s so irrevocably in love with you ever since he saw you in that hallway the night of the frat party your first year. Before he bumped into you a moment later on the way to the bathroom and before Jungkook interrupted the two of you briefly introducing yourselves and sharing the same dislike for the overhyped party when he needed help getting rid of an old hookup that followed him almost the whole night.

Jimin’s biggest regret in life is pushing himself aside and letting Jungkook steal you away from him with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Let him win you over with his stupidly handsome good looks and charming nature. Made himself blend into the background amongst others like he always did. What he knew best.

“I love you.” He leans his head and pecks the top of your head, hands gently brushing through the back of your hair as he stares off into the night sky outside his opened window, thinking how did this all go wrong in his favor.

Although, still awake you very much caught his soft whisper and you stop the tears from flowing any further in fear of him possibly noticing by his wet shirt and your sniffles.

Damn. A big fool you are indeed, falling for an unfaithful asshole when this beautiful soul was right here all along.

A/N: I’m so glad you made it to the end & I truly hope you enjoyed this 🫶🏻 pls let me know ur thoughts. I love you so much 😚🩷💗💕🎀

#angllicjk #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x oc #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fics #jimin scenarios #jimin imagine #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fic #hurt #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 28/34 - cigarette smoke

[Read on AO3]

The scent of cigarette smoke wakes her, burning her nostrils with its offensive odor.

It reminds her of the days before—when he’d come in the night, speaking in hushed tones with her husband and effectively plotting the end of her life and happiness. The downfall of the family she’d worked so hard to hold together.

It had been a long time since family meant more to her than heartache and regret. She’s not about to let him take it away again. Not when she might have just gotten it back.

“Get out of my house,” she says, her voice coming out strong and commanding despite the late hour.

“Teena,” he intones, as if surprised to find her in her own home. “How nice to see you.” 

She flicks the light on above him, depriving him of the precious darkness he likes to hide behind. He’s always been too theatrical for her taste. It used to intimidate her, even scare her. Not anymore.

She grips Bill’s old shotgun in her hands.

“Are you going to shoot me, Teena?” he says, squinting at her and chuckling a bit under his breath. It doesn’t look like she’ll need to, at this rate. He’s already run himself halfway into the ground without her help.

A pity.

She adjusts her hold on the weapon anyway. It’s loaded, of course. She isn’t a fool. 

“What do you want, Spender?” she asks impatiently. “There’s nothing more for you here.”

“Is there not?” he asks coolly, leaning toward the coffee table where he has set out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “I thought you might like to celebrate. I heard the good news, of course.”

The hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. Of course he’d heard. He has eyes and ears everywhere. She’d given up long ago trying to keep things from him. It never ended well.

“You stay away from my son and his family,” she spits, raising the barrel of the gun toward him. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

“Don’t you mean our son, Teena?” he asks, smirking up at her. “I think that makes them my family too, if I’m not mistaken.”

She reels back in disgust. “You don’t know the meaning of the word,” she says accusingly. “And you are not his father.”

The smoking man chuckles heartily again, taking a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “Oh, I assure you, I am. I’ve had Fox’s DNA tested on several occasions. The results are quite conclusive.”

“I don’t care what your results say,” she says, a fire burning in her eyes. “DNA doesn’t mean one thing when it comes to family.”

Spender purses his lips, but otherwise doesn’t respond. He knows there’s nothing he can say to that.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he says after a tense silence. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t be convinced. I don’t need to be his father to leave an impression on him, do I?” 

He gets to his feet, approaching her one step at a time, unbothered by the weapon she holds.

She holds her ground.

“I can be very persuasive, if you’ll recall,” he says, reaching up to touch a stray tuft of hair on her head.

Enough.

“You relinquished any hold you may have had on him the day you entrusted him to Agent Scully,” she spits, jabbing the mouth of the gun into his side and pushing him back a few inches. “Now, you can either heed my warning, or face the consequences.”

He tilts his head curiously, the ever-present smirk on his face unwavering.

“Is that so? And what might those be?”

He has no idea, does he, how much damage she could do. Decades of righteous anger stored up inside her, a front row seat to some of the most horrific and evil acts of mankind…

“Do you forget that I was there, Spender?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I was there from the beginning. I’ve heard it all—seen everything. Can you really risk letting what I know get out?”

“You seem to think I can’t kill you where you stand,” he says, leveling her with a menacing stare, dropping his earlier unaffected demeanor. “If sleeping pills are your method of choice, that can easily be arranged.”

She scoffs at him.

“You won’t kill me,” she says confidently. “And I will not be intimidated by you.”

For all the times she stayed silent, for all the fear that once controlled her—this is her redemption.

C.G.B. Spender is a stain on humanity, and she will not allow him to meddle in her life any longer.

“There are two ways this can end,” she states, her voice low and serious. “Either you disappear, and never come near my family again—or I watch you bleed out all over my grandmother’s rug. Your choice.”

He lifts his cigarette to his lips. As he exhales, a cloud of smoke envelops her face, but she does not waver.

“I’ll go,” he says evenly. “No need to desecrate such a lovely antique.”

That’s the thing she had never noticed as a younger woman: that this man is nothing but a coward. Everything he does, every action he takes, is to save his own skin and nothing more. Only her son was bold enough to stand up to him. He had shown her the cracks in Spender’s armor.

“You’ll stay away from Fox and Dana,” she states, watching as he turns to leave.

He glances back at her.

“Your threat holds no real power over me,” he says offhandedly, notably not agreeing to her terms. Bending down over the coffee table, he picks up the glass of whiskey he’d poured for himself and takes a sip. “Anything you might reveal of my business would be dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman. And you’re right, I don’t want to kill you. But I will, if you force my hand. Nothing will be revealed that I do not wish to be revealed.”

“Ha,” Teena laughs humorlessly. He thinks so highly of himself, like he’s some kind of all-knowing god, controlling the events of this world like some grandiose puppetmaster.

She’s seen behind the curtain, though, and she knows better. She’s learned how to play his game.

“If you think my death would stop the truth from coming out, you’re more of a fool than I thought,” she says. “How long have I known you, Spender, that I wouldn’t have put in failsafes in the event of my death?”

Oh, is that a flicker of fear, she detects?

“I’ve had the better part of three decades to plan for your downfall,” she continues. “I do not fear death as you do.”

His lips remain tightly closed, his whiskey forgotten.

She leans in close, meeting his cold, unfeeling eyes head on.

“And that is why you will always fail.”

There’s a kind of delirious satisfaction in watching him go. It’s a waste of oxygen, she thinks, that he continues to live, but she will not stoop to his level. Not unless absolutely necessary.

He slinks back into the shadows from whence he came, and she prays that’s the last she will ever see or hear from him again. She’s prepared to follow through with her threats, if it’s not.

The shotgun goes back to its rightful place under her bed, with all her husband’s old things. He had been a good man, before he got swept up in Spender’s world. She tries, now, to remember that side of him, and not the one that came later. Enough of her life has been spent being angry, and she’s tired of it. She’s tired of the sadness and the bitterness.

It’s time for her to move past all that.

She lays back in her bed, the one that had almost been her deathbed, and breathes in deeply. Once upon a time, she had needed copious amounts of sleeping pills just to get through the night. The horrors that awaited her when she closed her eyes were unbearable, so traumatizing that she’d even experience nightmarish hallucinations.

But now?

Well, for the first time in years, Teena Mulder has a peaceful night’s sleep.

~~~

I can't make you go a day without Mulder and Scully in the update...

He knows he should be sleeping. Scully is snoozing away on the bed, and has been for quite some time now. Then again, once her head hits a pillow, he knows she’s hard-pressed to stay awake for even five minutes.

Chapter 29/34 - rocking chair

Him, however…

He sits up on the ugly upholstered couch, stretching his neck in a futile attempt to straighten out the kinks.

He’s a father.

The thought is almost beyond comprehension. If he’d actually been asleep, he might have thought it had all been a dream. But, no. He’s sitting in a hospital room a mere ten feet away from Scully, and they’re parents.

It feels both sudden, and like it was years in the making.

Casting a quick glance over to his sleeping partner, he rises to his feet and tiptoes to the doorway, pulling the door open as quietly as possible. The brightness of the fluorescent lights in the hallway causes him to squint momentarily until his eyes can adjust. A sign comes into focus in front of him on the wall, pointing him in the direction he wants to go.

A few hours ago, the nurses came by to check on the three of them, ensuring that they had everything they needed for the night. They’d offered to take the baby to the nursery so that the new parents could rest, and though it was tough to see that little cherubic face go, he and Scully both knew that their nights of getting a somewhat acceptable amount of sleep were numbered. They eventually agreed, and like magic, Scully had slipped into her silk pajamas and under the paper-thin hospital sheets before he even knew what happened.

Now, though, he figures he might as well do something useful with his insomnia-induced awake time, so he heads down the hall until he comes to a large glass window. Behind it, the lights are dimmed, but bright enough that he can see the seven or eight babies sleeping peacefully in individual plastic bassinets.

His cheeks twitch with the beginnings of a smile as he takes in the gentle rise and fall of their little bellies, their first soft breaths of this new life.

Each one has a name tacked onto the plastic bin of the bassinet, proudly announcing the date and time each was born. His eyes roam over every one until he spots her. His little girl.

Madeline Samantha Mulder May 2, 2000 10:13 a.m. 6 lb. 4 oz.  /  18 ¾ in.

Though he’s already had the better part of a day to get to know her, the sight of her still knocks the breath out of his lungs.

Almost as if she senses she is being watched, she begins to fuss, the hat that was keeping her head warm beginning to fall off. He can see wetness building around her eyes, tears leaking out and drying on her rosy cheeks.

Mulder puts his hand on the glass, wishing there was something he could do.

Thankfully, a nurse comes bustling in, bunching the little pink stocking cap back onto her head and whispering soothing words that he can’t hear.

He taps softly against the glass, not loud enough to disturb the other sleeping infants, but sufficient to get the attention of the nurse. After adjusting the baby’s blankets, she looks up, offering Mulder a small smile.

“Can I see her?” he mouths, pointing at his daughter. He raises his wrist and points to the hospital band that declares him the baby’s father, and the woman’s smile widens. After double-checking that Madeline is back asleep, the nurse comes around to the hallway, clipboard in hand.

“Already on that new parent sleep schedule, I see,” she jokes, eyes scanning down a list of names.

Mulder chuckles. “Been practicing for years,” he says.

“Can I see your band?” she asks, and he presents it to her. She checks the ID number on it against the information on her documentation, and nods. “You wanna take her back to your room?”

He hesitates. “Uh, my… wife’s still sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to calling her that…

“Not a problem, Mr. Mulder. We’ve got a room back here you can use, if you like.”

“That would be great.”

The nurse leads him back to a side room at the back of the nursery equipped with a few chairs and all the necessary supplies.

“Let me go get your little girl,” she says, before disappearing through the doorway. She’s back moments later, the baby now blinking awake in her arms.

Mulder mentally kicks himself.

“I shouldn’t have had you disturb her, she needs her sleep,” he says, a tinge of regret causing his shoulders to slump as she rests little Madeline in the cradle of his arms. Parent rule #1, if your baby is sleeping (by some miracle), don’t even breathe in the wrong direction. Just count your blessings.

He’s already messing it up.

His self-chastisement is cut short by the warm chuckle of the night nurse. “She’ll go right back to sleep, don’t you worry. She’s all tuckered out from her busy day!” she assures him.

Mulder relaxes, smiling a grateful smile up at her.

“Let me know when you’re heading back to your room,” she says, taking her leave.

Once she’s gone, Mulder’s attention falls to the wide-eyed little creature staring up at him. Her eyes are baby blue, a different shade than Scully’s, but he’s probably the only person on the planet that could tell you so. The flutter of her eyelashes mesmerizes him.

“Hi,” he breathes, tears involuntarily pooling in his eyes for what must be the millionth time that day. Maddie wriggles in her tightly swaddled blankets, and Mulder tugs on them to make sure they don’t fall loose.

After some effort, one tiny little arm escapes its confines despite his attempt at stopping it. He shakes his head with a breath of laughter, reaching out with his free hand to let her wrap his finger in her miniscule fist. With his thumb, he begins tracing soft circles on her warm, baby soft skin.

Has he ever held a hand so small? Five perfect, pudgy fingers on each hand. The tiniest fingernails he’s ever seen. That cute button nose and chubby cheeks. Rosebud lips and a chin that he’s noticed juts out just a little when she’s about to cry.

She’s perfect, his Madeline. And he vows to protect her from all the harm in this world.

“Sorry for waking you up, baby girl,” he whispers, lifting her fist to his lips and placing a kiss there. “Don’t tell mommy.”

Her wide eyes stare up at him, trusting and content.

“Come here,” he says, and he shifts her so she’s upright, then transfers her to his chest. The second her cheek—still sticky from tears—falls against his chest, her eyes flutter shut. He can feel her every breath, laying like this. From the rise and fall of her chest to the almost imperceptible exhales of air from her nose, there is a living breathing person relying on him now.

What had he ever done to deserve this?

He rubs her back, patting lightly at a steady rhythm that he hopes is comforting and relaxing. The repetitive motion plus the rocking chair ought to be enough to put any person to sleep—even himself.

Her fist curls against the neckline of his worn, gray t-shirt, fastening it in her iron grip. He lets his cheek fall against her head and breathes in deeply. This is a moment he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against her head before he pulls back.

He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. He thinks he can hear a clock ticking somewhere in the hallway, and a door somewhere in the distance snicks shut.

He lowers his voice even further, speaking so only his baby can hear.

“I’m in love with your mommy.”

The words are barely audible, but they’re the truth. And a truth spoken softly is better than nothing.

“What do you think of that, huh?”

On his shoulder, Madeline’s face has gone slack, a little bubble peeking out between her lips with each even breath she takes. She’s fast asleep, and in hardly any time at all.

He prays the pattern will continue when they get home.

For a good half hour, he stays planted in that chair, humming softly to every song he can think of that might qualify as a lullaby. Eventually though, after two rounds of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis, his own eyes begin to droop shut.

He’s loath to part with her, but the nurse stops by again asking if he’d like her to take the baby back to her bassinet, and he agrees. Before long, he’s back in the hall, the phantom weight of Madeline on his shoulder as he carefully opens the door to suite 509.

“Mulder?” he hears her voice, raspy and disoriented. The sliver of light from the hall illuminates her face, and she blocks it out with a raised hand, squinting adorably. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, making his way back to the couch.

“Were you trying to sleep on that thing?” she asks, looking at the couch in disdain. He wants to laugh at the messiness of her hair sticking up every which way, but instead he feels his heart clench at the sight of her.

I love you, he thinks.

“Mulder…”

He realizes he hasn’t answered her question, so he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Might be a little short, but not bad,” he says.

The furrow of Scully’s eyebrows is visible even just by the light of the moon streaming through the horizontal window blinds.

“I sat there earlier. It’s terrible,” she says, confusion lacing her features.

Mulder shrugs, not sure what else to say.

She purses her lips, the expression on her face one he recognizes to be her puzzle-solving face. He’s seen it plenty of times at crime scenes, but he doesn’t have a clue what it may mean in this context.

“Come over here,” she says.

He looks up, his eyes meeting hers.

She’s serious.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stands from the couch, approaching Scully cautiously lest she change her mind.

But instead of changing her mind, she shuffles backward, making space on the not quite queen-sized bed for Mulder to lay down.

“How is she?” Scully asks knowingly as the bed dips below his weight.

He toes his shoes off, swinging his legs up on the bed and tucking them beneath the covers.

“She’s perfect, Scully.”

She smiles. Her hand reaches out as he’s settling into the mattress, and catches his hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and he hopes she can’t feel his heart hammering in his chest.

This somehow feels different than the other times they’ve shared a bed. Unlike those times, there’s no great need for comfort and security, and no cow has flown through the roof of the building.

It’s just two parents trying to catch some shut-eye. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Thanks for being here, Mulder,” Scully mumbles sleepily, her eyes having fallen shut once again. “Thanks for being her dad.”

He squeezes her hand once in acknowledgement. There are too many words he wishes he could say, gratitude he wants to express for allowing him to do this with her, to be a part of it. For giving Maddie his last name. For honoring his sister. He doesn’t even know where to begin, but now isn’t the time anyway. He is rendered functionally mute.

The air conditioner hums in the silence that settles, and he counts the seconds, sure that she must have gone back to sleep.

Just as he begins to feel himself drifting off, he hears her again.

It’s almost inaudible. Spoken like a secret into the night, an accidental admission that wasn’t meant for his ears. Part of him isn’t sure it’s her he hears at all, merely a wishful auditory hallucination experienced on the cusp of a dream.

“I love you.”

And, even if it’s not real, he thinks he hears himself utter back, “I love you too.”

~~~

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