#AND GO FIND THAT GIRL AND ASK HER FOR A DATE

[mattrempeswife]

THE DARE THAT BROKE ME

requested: yes | req: i would love myself an angsty fic of the reader being asked out, but only because luke’s friends dared him to. the reader has really low self esteem and when she finds out he has to grovel to get her back. there’s tears, there’s pain, but there’s also a happy ending because the world is already hard enough.

pair: luke hughes x f!reader

genre: angst, drama, hurt/comfort, romance (slow burn), emotional betrayal.

warnings: emotional manipulation, self-esteem issues / negative self-talk, betrayal, swearing, harsh words and arguments, mentions of bullying & social rejection, mild yelling, open ending.

summary: you’ve never been the girl anyone really looked at, not the girl people wanted to be friends with, not the girl boys lined up to date. especially not someone like luke hughes. but when the golden boy of hockey asks you out, it feels too good to be true.

fia’s note: i won’t lie, i was this (🤏) close to having the reader kick him right in the nuts for agreeing to that ridiculous dare, like, sir, actions have consequences! haha. but i took a deep breath, channeled my inner angst gremlin, and here we are. i really hope you enjoyed this one-shot and that it tugged at your heart just the right amount! also, just a little reminder that my will smith requests are still wide open, so if you’ve got anything in mind, angst, fluff, chaos throw it my way. let’s keep the fun (and pain) going!

You were never the girl people wanted to be friends with.

From a young age, you learned to fade into the background. Pretty girls were admired. Confident girls were desired. Loud girls were loved. But you? You were the quiet one. The one whose name was often forgotten in group assignments. The one who never got asked to dances, whose existence felt like background noise.

You didn’t grow up expecting a fairytale. You just wanted someone to see you.

And somehow, impossibly, Luke Hughes had.

That’s what made it so cruel.

You’d always had a crush on him, Luke, the boy with the easy grin and the kind eyes. He was hockey royalty before he even knew what ‘NHL’ is. People adored him. The girls swooned. The guys worshipped him. He didn’t just exist.

He glowed.

And for reasons you still didn’t understand, Luke Hughes had asked you out.

You remember the day vividly. How he found you by your locker, awkward but smiling. How he asked you if you wanted to grab coffee sometime. You’d laughed because you thought it was a joke. Why would someone like him ask out someone like you?

But he’d insisted. Told you he’d been meaning to ask for a while.

And stupidly, stupidly you said yes.

That was four months ago.

Four months of waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Luke to wake up and realize he’d made a mistake. He was sweet most days. Distant on others. He’d hold your hand in private but avoided too much PDA. You never pushed, too afraid that if you reached for more, he’d pull away completely.

You told yourself that was just who he was, a lowkey, not the showy type. Maybe he was just shy. Maybe he wasn’t good with feelings.

You accepted the breadcrumbs like they were a feast.

Because you didn’t know how to believe you deserved anything more.

You sat curled up on the cold bleachers, knees tucked to your chest watched Luke skate laps during practice. The rink was mostly empty aside from a few team staff and friends. You wore his hoodie, it still smelled like his cologne and fiddled with the sleeves absentmindedly, scrolling through your phone to kill time.

You didn’t expect the message.

It came from an unknown number.

No text. Just a video.

Your first instinct was to ignore it. But curiosity won out.

You tapped the thumbnail.

The quality was shaky, like it had been recorded in a rush. Luke was in it, unmistakable in his backwards hat and smug grin, surrounded by a circle of friends. You recognized a few of them from his team. And then, there was her.

Lola.

You’d heard her name before. Luke’s “childhood best friend.” The one people whispered he used to have a thing for. You never pried. Luke had never given you a reason to be jealous until now.

In the video, you could hear Lola’s voice.

'I dare you, Luke Hughes, to date Y/N. Make her fall for you… and then kick her ass.'

There was laughter. Male. Female. Loud. Cruel.

Then Luke. Laughing.

'Okay, deal. I’ll make her fall for me.'

You don’t know how to react.

The hoodie you wore suddenly felt like it was choking you. The air in the rink was too sharp. You blinked, once, twice, hoping it would disappear.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t want to.

You just stood up.

You walked out of the rink without looking back.

Luke noticed the moment you left.

He skated over, pulling off his gloves and jogging on the ice toward the exit.

“Babe?” he called out.

“Hey, where are you going?”

You didn’t answer. Your feet moved faster.

He caught up just outside the door, gripping your wrist gently.

“Hey. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You stared at his hand on your arm.

Then slowly, deliberately, you turned around and shoved your phone into his chest. The video played again, Lola’s voice cutting, his laughter stabbing deep.

“This,” you said, voice eerily calm.

“This is what happened.”

Luke’s eyes widened as he watched the screen, realization creeping in like a sickness.

“No. No, it’s not what it looks like…”

“I fucking hate you, Luke.”

He flinched.

You didn’t yell. You didn’t scream.

You simply stared at the boy you once thought was your beginning.

“I thought you were different. I thought… God, I was so stupid. I let myself believe someone like you could actually love someone like me.”

“Don’t say that,” he said quickly.

“I do, I do love you. I didn’t mean any of it. That was months ago, it was stupid, I didn’t know you then.”

“But you knew enough,” you snapped.

“Enough to decide I was pathetic enough to be a fucking joke.”

“I didn’t think you’d matter this much,” he blurted.

You blinked. The silence hit harder than any scream.

You took a step back.

“That’s the difference between us,” you whispered.

“You didn’t think I’d matter. I always thought you did.”

Luke reached for you again, panic in his eyes.

“No. Wait. Y/N, don’t, please just let me explain. I swear, it wasn’t like that. I caught feelings, real feelings. That dare was a stupid moment, I regretted it before we even went out.”

“But you still said yes. You still laughed. You still looked right at your friends and agreed to humiliate me.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes now, despite how hard you fought to keep them back.

“You wore my insecurities like a costume. And I wore your name like it meant something.”

He looked like he wanted to say something. To fix everything. To erase the past.

But you were done being the girl who begged to be wanted.

You peeled off the hoodie and dropped it in his hands.

“You don’t have to kick my ass, Luke. I’ll save you the trouble.”

You stepped back again.

“I’m kicking your ass out of my fucking life.”

You didn’t look back.

He called your name. But you kept walking.

And the silence that followed said more than either of you ever could.

You didn’t go home that night. Not really.

You ended up sitting in your car for an hour in a grocery store parking lot, staring blankly at the windshield. You were too numb to cry, too angry to scream.

The video played on a loop in your mind.

“Okay, deal. I’ll make her fall for me.”

You thought about every time he kissed your forehead. Every time he texted you goodnight. Every time he pulled you into his chest and told you he was lucky.

Was it all a performance?

Had he felt anything real?

Or were you just the punchline of a joke he never expected to cost him anything?

You hated that a part of you still wanted to believe him.

That a part of you still wanted him to run after you, fall to his knees, beg for forgiveness.

But that’s the thing about heartbreak, you never really lose the hope. You just bury it beneath the pain.

You didn’t see Luke for days.

He texted.

He called.

He even came to your dorm and sat outside your door for hours.

But you didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

Because hearing his voice would mean letting him back in. And you weren’t sure if your heart could survive that again.

Four days later, you heard a knock at your front door.

You weren’t expecting anyone. You pulled your sweater tighter around you and opened it cautiously.

Luke stood there.

Hair messy. Eyes red. Hoodie wrinkled like he hadn’t changed in days.

In his hands was a plastic bag.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You didn’t speak.

“I—uh,”

He cleared his throat, eyes flickering to the ground.

“I brought you soup. I know you get sick when you’re stressed. You always said soup helps.”

You didn’t move.

He swallowed. “Can we talk?”

You opened the screen door slowly and stepped onto the porch, the cool air biting at your skin. Luke looked nervous, hopeful, scared.

You stared at him, then reached behind you and pulled something from the chair inside.

“I forgot to give this back to you,” you said quietly.

You held out his hoodie, his hoodie, the one you’d worn like armor, the one that used to smell like home.

It was folded neatly.

He stared at it like it was a grenade.

His voice cracked.

“You can keep it.”

“It’s yours now. But I thought maybe… I don’t know. I needed a reason to see you.”

“I didn’t ask to see you,” you said, voice low.

“I don’t want anything from you, Luke.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“But I... I can’t stay away.”

You sighed, stepping back slightly to close the door but before you could even think about shutting him out again, Luke dropped to his knees.

Right there.

On your porch.

His hands pressed together, like he was praying, trembling.

“Please,” he said.

“Please forgive me.”

You froze.

“Luke, what are you doing—get up—”

“No,” he choked.

“I won’t. Not until you hear me. Not until you really listen to me.”

He looked up at you, eyes filled with tears.

“What I did… it was horrible. I was stupid, and immature, and I didn’t think it would turn into anything. It was a dare, yeah. But you were never supposed to matter.”

You flinched, and his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

“But then you did,” he continued.

“You mattered more than anyone ever has. You became the best thing that ever happened to me. And I fell in love with you, I did. I do. Every day, even now. Even when you hate me.”

You blinked hard, heart thudding painfully.

“I didn’t want it to start like that,” he whispered.

“But I wanted it to stay because of you. Because of who you are. And I swear to god, I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how. And I kept thinking I’d ruin it.”

“Well, you did,”

You said, your voice shaking now, tears stinging your eyes.

“You ruined everything. You made me feel like a joke. Like I was some fucking charity case.”

Luke sobbed, actually sobbed.

“I know,” he said brokenly.

“I know I hurt you. But please… let me fix this. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

You wanted to scream. To push him away. To tell him that no amount of apologies could fix the way it felt to watch that video, to hear him laugh while agreeing to play you like a game.

But he was still on his knees, shaking, begging.

Crying.

And then something in you cracked.

The anger and heartbreak swirling into something softer. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But the ache of love never really went away it had only buried itself under everything he broke.

You sank to your knees in front of him.

And that was when he completely fell apart.

He pulled you into his arms like he couldn’t believe you were real. You cried into his shoulder, fists clutching the front of his hoodie. His tears soaked into your shirt, and he just kept whispering,

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” like it was the only language he remembered how to speak.

When you pulled back, both of you a mess of tears and shaking breaths, you looked him in the eyes.

“I’m not saying it’s okay,” you whispered.

“I’m not saying I forgive you yet. But I still love you. And I think… I want to try. If you’re willing to fight for me.”

“I’ll fight forever,” he said hoarsely.

“You’re everything to me.”

And for the first time in days, you believed it.

[magicaloneandmystery]

crush

pairing: tfatws!Bucky x fem!reader

summary: Bucky was just trying to live as normally as he could given his history. he never thought a teenage-like crush would be part of that normalcy.

tags: idiots in love, sorta friends to lovers, fluff, slightly ooc Bucky? this is not proofread

masterlist

he was in deep shit, he concluded. that, or he was going insane. out of his mind. schizophrenic, even.

Bucky was on his bike, reflecting back on his evening with you. specifically, the way his heart had raced when the two of you were lounging with you just a little closer than friends were supposed to. or maybe, he was reading too much into it? had you meant to sit that close?

I mean, it wasn't even that close, actually... he thought.

that wasn't the concerning part, though. the concerning part was that he wanted you to sit closer.

in fact, much closer.

the characters in the movie they had been watching, in a particular scene one of them was sitting on the lap of the other, and he remembered thinking, "wish that was y/n on me."

he had immediately choked on air at realising the insanity of that thought.

so, Bucky's only two conclusions were:

a) he was undergoing a psychotic episode.

b) he was developing a crush on you.

option b was, frankly, just as insane as option a.

because Bucky was over a century old, for fuck's sake. how ludicrous would it be if he starts developin crushes like he was in high school?

and, lastly, he cannot ruin the friendship he has with you. nope. that was not allowed.

you were the light in his dark life, the thread that holds him to normalcy of adjusting to 21st century life, the sun to his gloomy sky-

yeah, he was in deep shit.

so, naturally, he was left with no other option than to knock on Sam"s door to ask for some advice. he wasn't about to fuck this up and he had no idea how these things worked anymore. the last time he went out with a woman was 80 years ago.

that was another horrible, horrible idea, Bucky realised, when Sam started wheezing and laughing and sputtering out his water at the words, "I think I have a crush on y/n."

"Bucky Barnes... developing a crush?" Sam had raised his eyebrows, before he descended into his laughing fit.

"are you done?" Bucky sighed after a while. "I came here for real advice, you know."

"sorry, sorry," Sam wiped some tears from his eyes. "what do you want my advice on? I think I can contact my nephew for some advice on crushes with girls..."

"if you're gonna be an ass about this I'm just gonna leave," Bucky grumbled.

"okay okay," Sam raised his hands. "I'll behave. for now."

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and looked back at Sam. "how do I... tell her? uh. should I tell her?"

"you think she might like you back?"

Bucky told him about last night, the way you curled on the couch next to him, your fingers almost touching his, both of your hands splayed between you two. he told Sam about the shy smile you held around him whenever he was flirting with you - as a friend, of course - or the way she had almost cancelled a date because Bucky said he was feeling bored and wanted to know if she was free.

"she what?" Sam asked at the last one.

"yeah, I called her up one day when I had nothing to do and thought we could hang out. she was ready to blow off this guy she was seeing to hang out with me until I told her that I would find something to do, she needs to go out." Bucky must say, the warmth in his chest felt quite pleasant when he said those words out.

"and?" Sam pressed. "is she seeing anyone, then?" presently?"

"not that I'm aware of."

"we have good intel to work on," Sam nodded. "I have a plan."

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Bucky was acting... weird.

good weird.

incredible weird.

weird in a way that made your heart flutter and the butterflies in your stomach flap around wildly.

he has been flirting a lot with you recently. small remarks about your beauty, hair, voice coupled with that charming smile? yeah, you didn't stand a chance.

you didn't understand how to interpret his behaviour. was he just opening up to you more, letting his charming side out? or was he flirting to...

you didn't let yourself complete the sentence. you couldn't let yourself hope that your feelings were reciprocated. that sort of hope could ruin your friendship with him.

all of those thoughts went out the window when Bucky put his arm on the couch behind you, his fingers almost - but not really - touching your shoulders. you could feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne even better. it was becoming hard to focus on the weekly movie you had picked out, a classic to help Bucky catch up to the world slowly.

after a while, your breathing evened out and you could move, so you opted to pretend and move just an inch closer. test out the waters, and all that.

it was a really slow night, but by the time the climax was nearing, you were pressed into his side, his hands resting on your shoulders and your thighs pressed to each other.

something shifted that night.

the two of you became bolder with your physical affection.

longer hugs, more cuddles on the couch, casual hand holding while walking through crowds or crossing streets.

that went on for about two weeks before your friends had encouraged you to do something more, take a risk. they swore they were 100% sure he liked you back. said it would be a 'calculated risk' bound to end in success. so you obliged them.

because maybe, just maybe, you believed Bucky really did like you back, too.

"would you want to go out tonight?" you asked him. "I was thinking how we've been hanging out too much at the apartment lately. let's go out! have some fun. what do you say?"

"yeah, sure. where do you want to go, doll?" Bucky leaned back, the phone pressed to his ears while he shot a confused look at Sam, who raised his eyebrows in return.

"have you been to the cafe near my place, the one with the best cheesecake ever?"

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so here you were.

on Bucky's motorcycle, your arms wrapped around his waist, while he took you to all the cafes that you swore he needed to try.

you were wearing a simple, long dress that had Bucky staring at your frame for a while longer than usual, while he was wearing a dark leather jacket and faded jeans, looking handsome as ever.

after a night of cafe hopping and good food, the two of you were returning home.

"I had a good time," you hummed when he stopped his bike in front of your apartment.

"me too," he replied, kicking out the stand and parking his bike while he walked you to your door.

"you know," you said, nerves overtaking you, your hands wringing together. "I had a much better time with you than with any of my dates in the last six months."

"yeah?" Bucky breathed out, stepping closer to you. he took a deep inhale before saying, "maybe you shouldn't go on any other dates."

your mind went in an overdrive at his words. did he just-?

"maybe we should have more of these nights," he continued, leaning his face closer to yours to catch your eye. "I know I would love that."

you stared in his eyes, their waves shining brightly in the moonlight. "I- I would love that too." you said.

"yeah?" he cupped your cheek with one hand, his other one resting on your waist. "can I kiss you, doll?"

"please."

and that's how you shared your first kiss with Bucky Barnes. your hands on his shoulders, his holding your face gently. it started out as a hesitant brush of the lips, until you pressed closer, wanting more. it was slow, a lazy tango of your lips as you two explored each other with racing hearts.

you separated for a quick breath before diving back in, another kiss that felt more passionate, holding each other closer, his hands now around your back, pulling you closer to him, yours around his neck, playing with his soft hair. that one left you breathless in a whole different way than just lack of oxygen.

after a quick and final peck, he stepped back a little. your head was swimming with thoughts of Bucky and all you could do was bring your hands back to his shoulders, keeping him close.

an awkward tension descended upon the pair, neither knowing what to say.

"so are we... dating?" you immediately panicked, wondering if this was the right question to ask right after you kissed a guy.

but it isn't any guy. it's Bucky, your heart whispered.

"I guess so," he chuckled. "would you like... that?"

"I would love that." a grin spread across the two of you.

he nodded. "I should go," he said, though he tightened his hold on you for a second. "a good night kiss?"

"yes please," you didn't wait, kissing him once more.

"have a good night, doll," he spoke afterwards, lips just inches apart.

"you too, Bucky," you said, staring at his lips then eyes.

"I'll call you tomorrow?" he asked, not knowing what dating today looked like. he'll have to ask Sam about that.

"okay," you said.

"bye," he said.

"you know you actually have to move away from me and to your bike to leave?" you teased.

"what if I don't want to leave?" he retorted with a roll of his eyes.

you laughed, slapping his shoulder lightly. "go, Bucky. we'll talk tomorrow?"

"yes." he said, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheeks one last time before he walked towards his bike.

you entered your apartment, waving to him as he sat on his bike, looking at you. he waved back with a grin.

after he rode away, you closed and locked the door, leaning against it as you touched your lips and cheeks, all the places his lips had touched you. your heart was racing wildly, the butterflies in your stomach refusing to slow down, the memories of the night replaying in your head. Bucky Barnes might be the death of you, you thought.

you were in deep shit, you concluded.

this was longer than I usually write but thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

[cherrynpink]

just "friends"

pairing: situationship!dokyeom x f!reader

genre: situationship to lovers, slight angst, smut (with a bit of plot) MDNI!

warnings: cursing, oc is a bit mean to him in the start but it's ok, soft dom!dk, jealous oc, fingering, oral (f. receiving), mentions of giving head, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, down bad dk, needy oc, praise, ass smacking, protected sex but oc doesn't want to use a condom initially, hair pulling, mentions of creampie (wrap it before u tap it), doggy style, mention of hair pulling, big dick!dk, he is literally too big, slight strength kink, he is an idiot, dirty talk, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 4.2k

playlist: just "friends"

Note: aaah this is the first fic i'm writing on here so pls bear with me. if u find any mistakes, pls lmk! this was loosely inspired from the situationship i was in last year, except mine didn't end well unlike oc's. hope u like it n pls give me wtv feedback u feel so that i get better at this! hehe anyways go on

also u can comment or message me if u wanna be added to my taglist!

dokyeomie:3 : are u mad at me???

Your phone buzzes. It's 2 a.m. and your phone buzzes. You know there is only one person whose texts you would receive this time at night. You didn’t want to ignore dokyeom, you really do like him after all. You’ve been in, what you would call- a situationship? You’re not very sure. You met him through you mutual friends during a trip you all went to together. It’s funny how during your first year you never noticed him in campus despite him being in the same year as you, but as soon as you returned from the trip, he was everywhere. It was like a dokyeom plague all around.

Initially, you weren’t interested in him beyond being friends but fuck- how can a guy be this sweet? And this nice? And this hot. You can’t blame a girl for wanting more. When he texted you first right after returning from the trip asking for the pictures you had taken, you knew this was your chance to lock it DOWN. Only a fool would miss a chance to let a guy like him pass by. After that it was nonstop texting. All day. 24/7. Point of no return.

You’d give him random updates of your day, he would call you when he went to Sephora with his sister and ask which lip gloss you wanted to feed your manic lip gloss obsession, he would send you pictures of cats he saw on campus and say “us”, coffee dates, study dates (even though you had different majors), teaching him to play DTI at 3 a.m. while you laughed at him dates, but not an official “date” yet. Not a label beyond “friends” yet.

You wondered how can two people do all this and still be called friends. This is not what friends do, right? Or is it? Fuck- this is ruining you. It didn’t help seeing him get coffee with some other girl from his class while she laughed like he was the funniest guy ever. And like he probably was. But she’s not allowed to laugh. Only you. He does NOT need to be this funny with some other girl when he hasn’t even labelled what you are yet.

Leading you to ghosting him for the past 2 days. And trust, it was truly torture. How do you suddenly stop talking to the person you’ve shared everything about you to for the past 3 months? Everything reminded you of him no matter where you went. This is the most down bad you’ve ever been for a MAN. Your prime man hater era would be ashamed.

dokyeomie:3 : im really worried, im coming over, okay? I’m almost there >.< bringing some ice cream too!!! i know ur not asleep yet so pls let’s just talk okay :)

You hear your bell ring and thank god for the fact your roommate was at her parents’ place this weekend- well, not like anything’s going to happen anyway, what would it matter. He didn’t even give you time to change as you open the door in your short pyjama set, and what do you see but crinkly eyed dokyeom with his heart smile which almost makes you want to forget the hell he’s put you through the past 3 months and just kiss him.

“Hi” he says, coming in and setting the ice cream on the table, “let’s eat now before it melts.”

“I don’t feel like eating right now.” You take the plastic bag from his hands and put it in the freezer.

He steps closer to you, and closer, and closer, until there doesn’t seem to be any distance between you and you feel your surroundings closing in, as he towers over you, his sandalwood musk encapsulating you making your heart race, your breath turning erratic and your cheeks a crimson shade like a blushing bride. It truly is so easy for him.

He tucks your hair behind your ear- “y/n what happened, are you mad at me? Whatever it is you can tell me. Just please, talk to me.”

“I was just busy, it’s really nothing. Anyway, you had that girl from your class to keep you from getting bored.”

“Is that what this is about? I got assigned a project with her so we grabbed coffee to discuss how to go about it, it wasn’t anything more I swear.”

“That’s not it.” You turn your face away and head to the couch. Talking about what you feel has always been harder for you, which is why you’ve never had any proper relationships- only casual no strings attached arrangements or situationships.

“What is it then? Please y/n, you can’t just go radio silent for two days. I was so worried about you, talk to me, okay?” he says as he sits beside you on the couch.

“You never asked me out.” You blurt it out so fast its barely comprehensible to him.

“What?”

“You never asked me out. You flirt with me all the time, we text literally all day, and when we don’t its because we’re together at the coffee shop or the library or whatever. My friends call me an idiot, that you’re just toying with me, until you’re bored with me. You’ve never even defined what we are yet, because we sure as hell aren’t friends. Friends don’t act like this- right dokyeomie?”

You looked up to him, doe eyed on the brink of tears as you felt a lump in your throat, a heaviness on your shoulders. He felt horrible.

How was he supposed to know you liked him? He just thought you were being really friendly with him- just like you would be with anyone else, right? Here he was thinking he was the idiot being so hopelessly obsessed with you. He was literally so down bad for you it was kind of pathetic. Once when you had just started talking to him you mentioned you liked glasses, low and behold, he wore glasses every time you saw him. You can’t find the lip gloss you want anywhere? He’s dragging his poor sister with him to every makeup store in the city, trying to find that goddamn lip gloss that seems to be sold out everywhere. And now he feels like shit for making you think that he would just lead you on and leave you when he’s tired of you or something. Fuck. He’s messed up BIG time. And he does the only thing he can think of to make it up to you, FAST.

He leans into you, one hand gripping your jaw while the other brushes against your waist, his face so close you can feel his breathe as your eyes flicker down to his lips as he wets them. Your breath hitches and he can practically hear his heart racing the speed of a bullet train. And just like that, the next thing you know, his lips are against yours engulfing you in a whirlwind of a kiss. Your hand reaches for his chest as he holds you. He kisses you softly yet so messy and passionate it sweeps you off your feet. As you deepen your kiss, he slips his tongue in and a soft whimper leaves your throat. Impatient to gain control he pushes against you in an attempt for dominance and his quick shift in demeanor has you flooding in your pajama shorts. Good thing you sleep without your panties on. 

As your make out session continues to grow more aggressive, you feel him manhandle you over his lap onto his hardening length. Fuck. He feels big, you think as your hips give an experimental grind. He seems impatient as you make out, like he’s trying to make up for the lost time as he tightens his grip on your waist to get you closer to him, and you’re no different- tugging at the collar of his shirt so desperate to be with him.

“I really like you” he whispers between soft open-mouthed kisses. “I really like you I just wasn’t sure you felt the same about me, I’m sorry for making you wait so long baby, let me make it up to you?”

Oh. Your pussy likes the sound of that. It comes out of his mouth in a whisper, as he tries to catch his breath because you might not see it, but he is doing gymnastics to keep up with you and you’re driving him absolutely crazy. Its actually a little unbelievable for him to be making out with the girl he’s been in love with for the past year. He can feel a wet spot forming on his jeans as you leak onto him through your shorts.

“So needy baby, can feel you getting wet just from kissing a bit. You want it that bad?” he chuckles. God, you must look desperate to him but you need him right now because his hands gripping your thighs and yours in his hair drive you insane.

“You made me wait so so long kyeomie, need you, please. Need you to fuck me.” It leaves your throat like a whine making him twitch under you. You don’t care how desperate your pleas sound, because truth be told its all you’ve been picturing for the past 3 months. His hand makes its way to your tits as he cups them from over your thin top. From where he's sitting, you look pathetic and so pliant under his gaze, even though you’re sitting on him. If he knew you were this into him, he would’ve done this much sooner.

“Fuck, don’t worry baby I’ll take good care of you. Lift your arms for me.” He says as he takes off your top and god, he can’t take his eyes off your tits sitting right in front of him. He kisses down your neck and you just smell so fucking good he doesn't want to stop. He recognizes the scent, that vanilla bakery cupcake scent that always lingers on him after you hang out with him, the one he's just so obsessed with. He takes your hardened nipple into his mouth as his hand plays with the other. You moan softly as dokyeom focuses all his attention on your chest. Nibbling and biting and licking, as you keep grinding your hips on him, feeling him getting harder.

“So pretty baby, so pretty just for me.”

“I- I need- need you dokyeom, please? Please I’ll do whatever- whatever you want. Wanna suck you off. Make you feel good. Can I?” you say as you get down on your knees. And oh, it is a sight for him. Something in your eyes changes, he sees them full of lust and desperation, so drunk. This was new for him. Before this, you would always be so shy around him, or anyone for that matter. Never laughing fully at the suggestive jokes your friends made when you all hung out together, just giving a coy smile. Even when you and dokyeom talked, you never reacted to his advances, innocent or suggestive, never reacted to the innuendoes he made, just avoiding eye contact with him. But this new you, he liked her for sure. He would’ve teased you more, but fuck, some other time.

You unbutton his jeans as your hands flutter impatiently and fumble with his zipper, because you quite literally cannot wait a second more.

“Slow down y/n, wait.”

He groans as he lifts his hips to let you lower his jeans. He’s already half hard in his boxers and oh. You have no idea how he’s ever going to fit inside you. You mouth at his boxers and lick at him through them. But he knows, if he lets you do this, he'll come in your mouth in an instant, and he is but a gentleman, and would rather die than to not make you cum first.

“Y/n as much as I would love that, I’ll cum in my pants if you do that, and I’m not gonna let that happen.” He says as he tugs you by your hair to get you up. You pout at him, disappointed he won’t let his dick in your mouth.

“Don’t make that face princess, you can do it next time.” he says as he lifts you in his arms. You gasp as he begins to carry you to your room and throws you on your bed as you rebound on it.

“You like that? Like it when I pick you up and throw you around. I see you staring at my arms all the time baby, don’t think you’re subtle.”

He kisses you again as he pins your hands over your head as makes his way down your body, marking you as he goes along. He reaches you thighs and begins to kiss them softly as he drags his tongue to your tiny shorts and begins to pull them down. And imagine his surprise as he comes face to face with your glistening pretty pussy. He sucks his breath in as he seems to be stuck in a trance.

You’re obsessed with the way his eyes follow your cunt. He looks like a child seeing candy for the first time, and you’re totally here for it. His big hands hold your thighs apart as he lays down between them and looks at your pussy like it has the moon and stars hung in it for him.

“No panties y/n? Fuck didn’t know you were a slut baby, you always act so shy and naïve in front of me, no?” he says as his fingers run against your slit experimentally, circling your entrance teasingly, taking you by surprise causing you to let out a desperate moan.

“I’m- I’m not!” you whine but you sound like even you don’t believe your own words. He’s right after all, isn’t he? You are a slut for him. Why would you be ashamed of it.

“You’re not? Then why are you dripping over all your sheets y/n. Haven’t even done anything yet and you’re trying to hump the air. If you needed me that bad could’ve just asked. Would’ve given you everything. But you wanted to give me the silent treatment. So, I’ll have to punish you baby.”

He smirks as one hand tweaks your nipple while the other dips inside you barely before he pulls it out in an instant. He traces soft patterns on your inner thighs, but every time you buck your hips up, he just moves his hand further away from your center.

“Please kyeomie, touch me.”

“I’m already touching you y/n. You need to be more specific.”

This is torture. You’re literally about to cry.

“In- in me. Your hand- your finger, need it in me.” you say with your face in your hand red with embarrassment.

“No please this time? Where are your manners?”

“Please dokyeom, need your fingers in me!"

Finally, he puts you out of your misery. The finger that was teasing you enters you in one instant. And oh. You are so tight. You feel so full, and its just one finger yet. You don’t know how you’re going to take him in.

“Gripping me like crazy y/n fuck, so fucking tight.”

He slowly moves his hand in and out, curling it and watching it squeeze him, barely fitting him in you. You grip the sheets tightly as he curls his finger and hits your g-spot right where you need it.

“You can barely fit one baby, how are you going to take my cock? Maybe I should just eat you out and make you cum on your fingers and leave it at that.” he says mocking you.

He knows he’s being really cruel, but only because you can take it. Also, you did make him wait so long too, so he deserves to have fun with it.

“No! No, I can take it I- I- promise!”

He chuckles and inserts another finger in, increasing the pace until you’re left gasping for air, a moaning mess. He feels your body tensing up, and leans down to kiss your thighs and whilst driving his fingers in you, making you moan his name over and over again like a prayer. Finally, he presses his thumb against your clit, and makes 8 figures over and over again, agonizing you as the pit in your stomach grows bigger every time you feel his fingers hit your spot.

Suddenly he takes his finger out, making you whine at the loss of contact and your eyes fill with tears because you were just so, so close.

He dives in between your legs licking a long strip up your entrance, the moan you let out is music to his ears, and the way you taste is better than anything he’s ever had. His tongue enters you as he pushes it in and out, and oh the way his nose keeps hitting your clit repeatedly with each motion has you seeing stars. You entangle your hand into his hair pushing yourself into his mouth as he moans.

He makes out with your cunt like a man starved as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. And at this point you have no idea about the words coming out of your mouth, a combination of broken moans and desperate pleas. Your legs are trembling as his big hands hold them apart, tightening his grip on them like he’s chasing his own high because you keep trying to close them with every brush of his nose against your clit.

“Please dokyeom, please I- I’m gonna- oh my god, I need to cum!”

“Yeah? Can feel you clenching baby. It’s okay, you’ve been so good, you can cum.”

And that’s all it takes. You feel the pressure in your stomach building up and the knot finally snaps as he hums against you and you break with a loud cry, your back arching and your hands pulling his hair. A euphoric feeling takes over your body as your legs going numb, and your mind in a hazy state with your eyes going dark, your back covered in sweat and your face so hot. There is only pleasure running throughout you but dokyeom doesn’t stop even as your cum covers his mouth dragging his tongue against your core as you come down from your high, until you’re gasping his name like it’s the only thing you remember.

When he looks up, it’s a sight to see; hair all messy, lips glossy, chin dripping with you and a hunger in his eyes like you’ve never seen before. He comes up and captures you in a kiss so deep you taste yourself on him. You never thought a someone eating you out would be this hot, but dokyeom has a way to keep you guessing.

“You’ve made such a mess baby, and you say you’re not a slut. What will I do with you hmm?”

There is something so demeaning about you being completely bare and vulnerable, withering under him, while he stays clothed. It’s like a fucking power trip for him, makes him feel fully in control of you, and oh does that make him so hard. Now that he’s gotten a taste, he doesn’t think he can stop.

“Take off- take- take it off” you say tugging on the collar of his shirt. Even you have no idea what incomprehensible nonsense is coming out of your mouth at this point, you’re just so drunk on him. He sits up taking off shirt and pants and you keep yourself from moaning out loud when you look at him. He looks so big. Not just beneath his boxers but him entirely, he looks so big. He notices your eyes travelling from his chest to his arms, trying to take it all in at once as if you would never have this chance again.

He finally takes off his boxers and you think you’re in love. His dick looks so pretty, his tip a slightly dark shade of pink curved a bit and veiny, you just don’t know how to explain it. He spits on his hand and pumps it in his hand and now that he’s fully hard, you have no idea how he’s going to fit in you.

“Like what you see baby? But your pussy is so tiny, how’s is going to fit?” he says as he brings his hands to your sides, running his hands all over your body. He pouts but you know he’s talking shit to tease you.

You reach up desperate for a kiss but he just kisses your cheek instead, “please, I need you to fuck me so bad kyeom, I can take it! I promise, just give it to me.”

He chuckles darkly, and this is so embarrassing for you but fuck it, who cares. “You beg so well baby, makes me wanna give you everything you ask for.”

He grabs your waist and turns you on your stomach in an instant, raising your hips to meet his, and smacks your ass hard, making you almost jump in surprise. Him manoeuvring you into being on your arms and knees was honestly such a turn on, but you know if you let him know that, you’ll let go of the tiny piece of dignity that you hopefully have left, so you settle for pushing your ass back into him making him groan.

“Condom baby?”

“In my drawer but no! no condom just, want to feel you.” you beg.

Fuck. You’re going to be the death of him. You were going to let him hit raw? Now he truly regrets not doing this earlier, but you’re not thinking clearly and he can’t take the risk no matter how much you make him want to.

“Sorry princess, but we can’t take the risk, some other time, okay?”

You groan, you hate him actually. Who gives us the opportunity to get in raw, you think to yourself as you hand him the condom.

You hear him slide it on and pump himself, “you’re so wet y/n, I might just slide in.” he says as he taps his dick on your clit making you moan. He runs his tip up and down your slit collecting your wetness, and pushes it in just so he's barely stretching you.

“I’ll take it slow okay, I promise.” He says as he grabs you by your hair and pulls you near him to kiss you on your cheek. His hands find home on your hips as he grabs them tightly, pushing himself in one inch at a time, easing you on, making you almost scream. As he bottoms out, he lets out a moan and so do you, feeling so full of him, because oh my god the stretch is like you've never felt before.

“So warm baby, so soft, cunt gripping me so good it doesn’t want me to leave I think.”

“Fuck dokyeom feel so full, I love it, please move.” You say as you beg him for the hundredth time for the night. And apparently that was all he needed to hear as he begins to drill into you sliding in and out mercilessly, slapping your ass every now and then. He fills you so good because its such a tight fit, and god does he love it. You are now left a mess under him, no thoughts in your head, just a chant leaving your mouth as you scream his name over and over.

“It’s that good baby? Or are you just too cockdrunk to think? Fuck, pussy so good it’s gonna milk the fuck outta me.” He moans as he tries to keep up with the unbelievable pace he’s set. His hand moves down your stomach as he toys with your clit from behind, making you see stars.

“You look so good like this y/n, all spread out for me. Makes me want to remember this forever, you’re gonna let me record this ass next time baby?”

All you can do is nod since you have no energy left in you to respond to him.

“Such a pillow princess, can’t even answer a simple question, need me to do all the work for you, hmm? It’s okay though, you don’t have to do anything, just sit pretty for me and I’ll take care of you.”

His grip on your ass tightens and his hand’s movement at your clit fastens as you feel him approaching his high, his strokes getting deeper yet sloppier and you wish he wasn’t wearing a condom so that he could fill you to the brim. At this point he too, like you- was an incoherent mess, because your pussy just feels like heaven to him, and he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.

“Fuck! I’m so close dokyeom! I- i- fuck right there! Right there! Wanna cum so bad, can I- can I cum? Please, oh!” you scream with all the strength you have left.

“Ah, me too baby, fuck good girl, always such a good girl, asking for permission. You can cum princess, cum for me.”

And that’s all it takes for you to crash into the bed with a loud moan as your arms give out, your pussy clenching around him as he fills the condom. Your chest heaving and a buzzing sound in your ear, you have no idea of your surroundings as dokyeom continues to twitch inside you, finally taking his dick out after what feels like eternity. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, feeling yourself gape due to the lack of him as he crashes besides you out of breath. You turn your face to him as he softly kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you.

After you both clean up, you lay on your new clean sheets wrapped around him as he caresses your hair.

“I’m sorry I was an idiot for not making it clear I like you sooner, I’ll take you out on a proper date later this week, okay?”

“mhm okay, but just so you know kyeomie, I don’t put out on first dates.”

[helen-with-an-a]

The first time between r and Ingrid, but it's actually r first time too. R is a couple of years younger than Ingrid, they've been dating for a couple of months now and one day after training they go to Ingrid apartment to eat together and watch a movie but things start to get hot but as soon R realize she stop cause she's a little bit scared and cause she never told Ingrid that that would be her first time. A fluffy and cute smut 🙏🏼😁🥺

So I'm going to split this into 2 and I've changed it slightly but yeh. Here's part 1, part 2 comes out next week :)

Nerves

Ingrid Engen x Reader

Description: R wants to go all the way with Ingrid

Word Count: 4.1k

TW: None - slight age gap but nothing weird, allusions to sex

Part 1 : Part 2

It was stupid, the way you felt so goddamn nervous. Every time Ingrid came near you, your heart started to race a mile a minute. It was only Ingrid. Ingrid … your Ingrid. Your wonderful, fantastic, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, incredible Ingrid … your girlfriend. It was hard not to fall in love with her. From the very beginning, she had an allure that drew you in like a moth to a flame. Those dazzling green eyes, so full of life and the shock of dark hair, she looked like a dream – a dream that you never wanted to wake up from. She had stolen your heart effortlessly, almost as if it had belonged to her all along. And when she took it, she never gave it back. Not that you ever wanted it back.

You were head over heels for your girlfriend. Every little thing she did made your heart race, from the way she laughed – a rich, melodic sound that warmed you from the inside out – to the way she looked at you with an intensity that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You found yourself constantly drawn to her, craving her touch, her voice, her presence. She was magnetic, and like a moth to a flame, your world revolved around her.

Maybe that was why you were so nervous? Because she was Ingrid. Wonderful and fantastic and beautiful and stunning and gorgeous and incredible. And you were just … you. A 23-year-old girl with no dating experience whatsoever and riddled with anxiety.

“Ready to go, min kjærlighet?” Ingrid asked, her voice soft. She reached out her hand, a smile gracing her features in a way that made your heart skip a beat. You hesitated for just a fraction of a second, feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach before sliding your hand into hers. You still hadn’t quite worked out whether it was love or anxiety that made the butterflies appear. You couldn’t help but smile shyly back at her, your fingers tightening around hers

“Training was good today,” you mumbled as you made your way down the corridor. The late afternoon sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the car park, but all you could focus on was the sensation of her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

“You were good today,” Ingrid corrected, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and teasing. You glanced up at her, catching the glint of amusement in her eyes. She meant it, though. You had had a solid session, one of your best in recent memory. You’d pushed yourself hard, perhaps a little harder than usual, and there was no denying that having Ingrid as your partner for drills had lit a fire in you. You’d wanted to show off a bit, to impress her in that unspoken way that went beyond words. Was it silly? Maybe. But you couldn’t help it; you always wanted to be your best when she was watching.

“Only for you,” you murmured under your breath, almost without thinking, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

“Huh?” Ingrid glanced over, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “What did you say?”

You felt your cheeks flush instantly, a wave of heat spreading across your face. Shit, shit, shit. Why did you had to be so stupid? You bit your lip, trying to find the right words as you stared down at your feet. “I, um…” You could feel the embarrassment rising, your voice faltering as you blurted out, “I wanted to do well… for you.”

It took all your courage to glance up at her, waiting to see her reaction. For a moment, there was silence. Then, a warm, gentle laugh bubbled up from Ingrid’s chest. “Oh, kjære,” She used your intertwined hands to pull you closer, wrapping her arm around your shoulders as you walked. The closeness made your heart flutter even more, and you felt the warmth of her body against yours.

“You did so well,” she said, her voice sincere. “I’m so proud of you, my love.” She leaned down, her lips brushing softly against the tip of your nose in a tender kiss. It was such a small, sweet gesture, but it made your chest swell with happiness. You couldn’t help but smile up at her, feeling the love radiating off her.

You sighed softly, cuddling into Ingrid as you laid on top of her. Her arm, strong yet gentle, wrapped protectively around your waist, pulling you a little closer. Her fingers danced playfully along the waistband of your shorts, teasing the skin just beneath, sending a shiver through you. The soft rustle of fabric as you shifted slightly seemed to echo in the quiet, the sound from some random Spanish show a distant hum.

You lifted your head, coming face to face with those gorgeous green eyes. She looked so effortlessly beautiful, the kind of beauty that seemed completely unaware of itself. Her hair, still slightly damp from the shower, splayed across the arm of the sofa. You could hardly tear your eyes away. The way her long lashes fluttered ever so slightly as she blinked. You swallowed, eyes still roaming her face.

You had never felt this way before. You had heard about it, read about it in books or seen in films. But you had never experienced it. What if she didn’t feel the same? Or you loved her in the wrong way? You didn’t want to mess this up. What if she wanted someone else? Someone more versed in loving someone? Someone who has actually made it into another person’s bedroom before.

“I can feel you staring, kjære,” she teased.

“S-sorry.” You blushed, eyes flitting away, only to track back to her a moment later. A smirk played on her lips, the amusement in her eyes impossible to miss. You hadn’t meant to be caught, lost as you were in admiration, and now your cheeks burned under her knowing gaze. You blinked. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, baby,” Ingrid smiled ruefully. “I like when you stare at me.” Her fingers continued to dance along the waistband of your shorts as she pretended not to notice the 23 on the leg. “Besides,” she continued, “I stare at you … all the time.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You do?” you asked, genuinely shocked.

“Oh yeah,” she replied, her voice dropping into a teasing murmur as her hands found a comfortable spot on your hips. “All the time. At training, I try to be more subtle about it, but Frido has a knack for catching me.” She chuckled. “But I can’t help it, you look so goddamn good in the gym. When you flex and huff and puff…” she trailed off, her words hanging in the air as her eyes fluttered closed, clearly savouring the mental image.

You wrinkled your nose slightly. She thought you were attractive when you were hot and sweaty from the gym?

Her eyes opened, catching the look on your face, and a mischievous grin spread across her lips. “Makes me think of… other… things,” she added, her voice thick with suggestion.

“Oh.” You blinked at her, another blush rising to your cheeks.

“Yeah, oh.” She laughed, squeezing your waist.

No one had ever thought of you like that. At least, you were never aware of it. While other teens had been dating, exploring, and figuring things out, you had been busy trying to make sense of your own identity, questioning your sexuality and understanding yourself in ways that seemed more important at the time. By the time you finally felt settled in who you were, it felt like everyone had already passed you by, and some people even made you feel like an outsider for not having done the same things they had.

“You’re really sexy, kjære. Especially when we’ve been outside … and it’s hot … and one of the coaches gives you a wet towel … and you lift your top up to rub at your face.” Her eyes danced between yours and your lips.

“I-I didn’t … I didn’t realise.” You whispered, incredulous that she found you attractive.

“And that’s what makes it even better.” She mumbled, her eyes purely trained on your lips now. Her words hit you like a wave, and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks again. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the blush that was rapidly spreading across your face. It wasn’t often that you were complimented so directly, so openly, and certainly not in such an open way.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “Can I kiss you or not, baby?” She asked before you could do anything.

You surged forwards, pressing your lips onto hers with almost embarrassing speed. One hand stayed on your hip, the other moving to cup your jaw as she licked into your mouth. She hummed quietly, her body shifting under you.

Your heart stuttered as she deepened the kiss, your mind going crazy. Did she want sex? Did she want sex with you? Did she want sex with you now? You were fairly sure you were ready. You think. No one had ever told you how you would know you were ready. Just that it would be obvious when you were.

Her hand trailed lower, resting over the swell of your arse as you shifted your hips.

You broke apart, breathless and dazed. “Ingrid,” you breathed. You mind still reeling.

“Yeah,” she gasped.

“I …” How did you word this? Sorry Ingrid, no one has ever touched me in more than a platonic way before and now I’m freaking out. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m a twenty-three year old virgin who has only ever had drunk kisses at a club and I think I want to go further with you but I don’t know and now I’m panicking.

“What is it, kjære?” She asked more urgently this time.

“I’veneverdoneanythingbeyondkissingsomeoneandIwanttogofurtherwithyoubutI’mreallynervousaboutitpleasedon’thateme” you rushed out.

She blinked at you. You felt the anxiety rise in your chest. You couldn’t do this. Not with her. She was perfect and wonder and fantastic and brilliant and you … what were you thinking? What was she thinking?

You pushed yourself off her like you were burning her, settling yourself back against the far side of the couch.

“Baby?” she asked, shocked at your actions. Your chest was tight, your breaths coming out in stuttering gasps. She sat up, moving to sit cross-legged in front of you. “Breathe, my love. Breathe for me.” Breathe. You could do that. You could breathe. You had done it all your life. “Good girl, sweetheart.” She soothed, her hand resting against your thigh as she drew slow circles. Your heart fluttered at her words.

“Can you say what you said again? Slowly, this time.” Ingrid asked when you finally had normal breathing again.

“I …” you swallowed. “I’ve never done anything more than kissing,” you whispered.

“Okay,” she said slowly.

“No, Ingrid, I don’t think you’re getting it. I’m never done anything before,” you tried.

“Okay,” she said again, patience filling her voice.

“Ingrid, I’m a virgin. Capital V I R G I N, virgin. I’ve never had sex before, ever.” You huffed, confused as to what she wasn’t grasping. Ingrid smiled, letting out an amused huff. “It’s not funny.” You were shocked that she would laugh at you.

“No, no, no. I’m not … I’m not laughing, baby. I promise you. I would never laugh at you, never about that.” She rose up on her knees a little, one hand guiding you to look at her. “It doesn’t bother me.” She spoke carefully, trying to get her meaning across to you.

“Don’t lie, Ingrid.”

“I’m not,” she said indignantly.

“How can it not bother you?” You asked, genuinely shocked that she didn’t mind.

“It’s not a big deal … no, wait, that came out wrong. I don’t care about if you’ve had sex before. I don’t care if you’ve been with a million girls before. I only care about you, right now, in this moment. I love you, sweetheart.” She said earnestly.

“How can it not be a big deal though? When I told other people, they laughed at me. Cata laughed, so did Pina and Jana.” You blushed in embarrassment and hurt. It had stung when they had laughed at your confession during a tipsy round of Never Have I Ever.

“And I will shout at them tomorrow.” Ingrid promised, anger flaring at the idea of them laughing at something so personal. “But right now, I am purely focused on you. Can you tell me what’s going on in your head?” Ingrid asked, pulling you to her.

You went willingly, settling down on her lap as she traced calming patterns on the skin of your exposed lower back, her hands staying away from your shorts. “You are you and I’m just … me.” You shrugged.

“You’re just you?” Ingrid sounded confused.

“Yeah, ya know. You’re you” you paused for emphasis. “And I’m just me.”

“If you mean ‘just you’ as being shorthand for the sweetest, kindest, most gentlest soul I have ever met and now have the privilege of loving, that I get what you mean. If you mean anything else, then I don’t.” She said emphatically, shocked at how self-deprecating you were.

“Ingrid,” you sighed.

“Baby,” she matched your tone.

“Stop it.” You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips.

“There it is, that beautiful smile.” Ingrid joined in your laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Honestly, baby, it does not bother me if you’ve had sex or not.”

You swallowed hard, gathering the courage you needed to say the words that had been pressing at the back of your mind for so long. “I’ve… I’ve not done anything before,” you finally confessed, feeling a little stupid at your repetition.

Ingrid’s expression remained steady, her eyes filled with that familiar warmth, and the soft smile that always made you feel safe still danced on her lips. She didn’t flinch or waver. “Okay,” she said, her voice gentle and patient as she brushed a few strands of loose hair off your face.

“I’ve not done anything before, but I want to,” you added, your voice soft. “I think.”

Ingrid didn’t blink. “Okay,” she repeated with the same softness, her voice steady.

You felt the need to clarify, to make sure she truly understood. “I’ve not done anything before, but I want to… with you.” Your voice trembled slightly on the last words.

“Oh,” she breathed, her lips parting as she processed what you had said. The pause stretched for a heartbeat, just long enough for your mind to start spinning, doubt creeping in.

“Is that wrong?” you asked, your voice small, suddenly unsure. The silence made your stomach twist with anxiety. Had you said too much? Had you made a mistake? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But before you could tumble too far into your worries, Ingrid’s eyes softened even more – if that was possible – and her grip on you tightened ever so slightly. She pulled you in just a little closer, her hand still cradling your face, thumb gently stroking your cheek. “No,” she whispered. “No, it’s not wrong. It’s not wrong at all.”

Relief washed over you in waves, your body sagging just a little into her touch. Ingrid’s smile returned, a tender one this time, full of understanding and care. “I just wasn’t expecting that,” she admitted, her tone light yet sincere. “I mean, I’m… honoured, really, that you want that with me.” Her words were slow and thoughtful.

You looked up at her, searching her eyes for any trace of doubt or hesitation, but all you saw was affection. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the touch sending warmth radiating through your chest. “We’ll go at your pace, okay? Whatever you want, whatever you feel ready for, I’m here. And if you need time, that’s okay too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes at the softness in her voice, the absolute care she took with your heart in that moment. You nodded, feeling the knot of anxiety in your chest begin to unravel. “Thank you,” you whispered, barely able to trust your voice. Ingrid’s smile grew, her hand still resting on your cheek, thumb continuing to trace soothing circles. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. This is about you … about us. I want you to feel safe and comfortable. That’s what matters most to me.”

"I do," you murmured, "I feel safe with you."

Ingrid beamed, the pride and love in her eyes unmistakable. "Good," she whispered, leaning in to brush a soft kiss across your lips. "That’s how it should be."

"I… I don’t… not today," you mumbled, glancing down as your fingers fidgeted nervously in your lap.

Ingrid’s soft chuckle broke the tension, and you glanced up to see the warm amusement in her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting anything,” she said with a quiet laugh, her voice soothing as it always was. Her hand came to rest on your thigh, the touch comforting but not insistent. “Believe me, kjære, I want you. So much. But I mean it when I say, we’re taking this at your pace.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, the knot of anxiety loosening. “Just let me know when you want to,” she continued. “If you ever want to … I love you. You know that, right?” Your heart soared.

“I love you too, Ingrid,” you whispered back. “And yeah… I’ll let you know.” A wave of embarrassment washed over you again, and you ducked your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. Without thinking, you leaned forward, resting your head against her collarbone Ingrid’s arms wrapped around you, holding you gently.

She lowered her head, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she whispered, “Jeg elsker deg.” The softness of her voice sent shivers down your spine, and her breath, warm against your skin, made your heart beat a little faster.

[asterafroditis]

Hi! Can I request a reader who is the wife of Lilia ( respectively the mother of the boys), she is also a fairy so she looks very young. One day she comes to visit the boys at the NRC and the freshman/sophomore/pop club members/house keepers (depending on which of the boys you are writing about) see her and say "what's a girl doing at the NRC? She's so pretty, maybe ask her out on a date (can do without the dating part)" and the boys respond with "dude, that's my mom/wife...".

𐔌 . ⋮ fae matron .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Platonic Cater, Kalim, Floyd, & Ace x fem! reader and Lilia x fem! reader

𓏵 652 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, she/her pronouns used, fluff

I'm going to assume the boys means the other Diasomnia students (´⌒｀;)... This selection is also pretty random, I just chose people Lilia has had good interactions with throughout the story (￣∇￣)

feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

It’s not every day someone unfamiliar strolls through Night Raven College—especially a woman. Word spreads quickly: some pretty girl with otherworldly looks is heading toward the school from the forest path. She’s graceful, warm-eyed, and clearly very beautiful, but she looks too young to be a visiting alumnus, much less anyone important.

─────────────────────────

Cater blinks and lowers his phone, nudging one of his friends who was standing nearby. “Whoa. Who’s that? Total stunner alert.” He squints, adjusting his phone camera a little like he’s trying to subtly zoom. “Pretty sure I’ve never seen her around before. You think she’s like... a new school nurse or something? NRC’s seriously upping its game.”

Before he can open his camera app, a small frame appears beside him.

“Cater,” Lilia says casually, hands in his sleeves, “you do realize that’s my wife, right?”

Cater freezes mid-tap. “...Say what now?”

Lilia chuckles, clearly enjoying this. “Fae don’t really age like humans do. She’s older than you, you know.”

Cater’s jaw drops. “Bro. BRO. I wasn’t trying anything, I swear! She’s just, y’know, super pretty! No harm in lookin’, right?!”

Lilia just hums. “Mm-hm. I’ll let her know you think she’s pretty, then.”

“NOPE—I’M GOOD. THANKS. #OUTOFHERE!”

─────────────────────────

Kalim is squinting curiously, a friendly grin on his face. “Whoa! She’s dressed like a noble or something! Is she lost?” He waves cheerily. “Hey! Do you need help finding someone?”

Before she can respond, Silver steps between them calmly. “She doesn’t. She’s here for me.”

Kalim blinks. “Huh? Wait... really?”

“She’s my mother— err.. Lilia's wife,” Silver says, tone even, eyes already starting to droop again like this is just another Wednesday.

Kalim sputters. “That’s your mom?! She looks—uh—I mean—wow! She’s really elegant!” He scratches his neck sheepishly. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to be weird!”

Silver just nods. “You weren’t. Just... remember that the next time you see her.”

“Noted!”

─────────────────────────

Floyd watches her pass by with mild interest. “Eeeeh? Never seen her before. She’s kinda cute. Got that floaty vibe like a jellyfish... soft lookin’...” He starts walking toward her like a shark catching a scent. “Maybe I’ll give her a squeeze and see what kind of noise she makes~”

Before he can get too close, Lilia materializes behind him. “Touch my wife and I will turn you into something squishable.”

Floyd turns slowly, blinks at Lilia, then lets out a barking laugh. “Eh?! That’s your wife?! You’re serious?” He tilts his head at her again. “Guess I see it. She dresses kinda like you.”

Lilia nods, clearly pleased. “She has excellent taste.”

Floyd stretches his arms lazily. “Tch. Boooring. Was hoping I'd get someone to scream.”

─────────────────────────

Ace nudges Deuce and tilts his chin toward the fae woman. “You seeing this? What’s a girl doing at NRC? She’s... kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

“Do you EVER engage your brain before speaking, human?!”

Sebek’s voice booms from behind them, nearly making Ace jump out of his skin.

“That is Lady Vanrouge! Wife of Master Lilia, esteemed matriarch of the Diasomnia household! How DARE you—!”

“Okay, OKAY, I didn’t know!” Ace holds his hands up in surrender. “She looks like she could be a student, I didn’t mean anything by it!”

Sebek scowls, teeth clenched. “You will hold your tongue around her. Show some respect!”

You wave a hand gently, stepping in with a calm smile once you heard the familiar yelling of a certain green-haired freshman. “It’s alright, Sebek. I know he meant no harm.”

Ace, still sweating, mumbles, “Yeah, uh, sorry. You're real pretty and all, but I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on…”

Sebek’s chest puffs proudly. “Lady Vanrouge has always commanded admiration—just not from you.”

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s hard not to regret it when you think about the kind of life we could’ve had. no stress, no pointless fights, no broken hearts, just love and fun,” he sighs, feeling her shift in his arms and loosening his grip. pale blue eyes meeting doe-like hues, features softening momentarily. “i love you so much. more than anyone and anything in this world.” funny how things work, he thinks. he’d never said i love you to blair and yet they dated for a year, and he keeps confessing his love for lucy gray over and over again and they haven’t made it official. maybe he should take her to his favorite restaurant after the great gatsby show over the weekend? “oh, i almost forgot! one second, baby.”he reaches for his phone and opens email, scrolling through junk and other unimportant messages until he finds the right attachment — the two tickets he bought for the premiere of the broadway musical. “i’m the best baby boy in the whole wide world and got my birdie boo a surprise.” he turns over his phone, waiting for her to register what he’s showing her. “course you can have a baby without gettin’ married, but it’s funny how we were ready for marriage in first grade and charlie’s so uncertain ‘bout it.” he’s not judgmental, but he wouldn’t want his baby to have his last name before his girl. “think i’d go crazy if that happened. if you ever had a baby with another man, i’d lose my mind. i’d be so jealous and forever think it should have been me,” he unabashedly elaborates, not even trying to pretend he’d be happy for lucy gray and her man. what’s the point when they both know the truth? he’s not jealous or possessive unless it comes to her, he’d set the whole world on fire for this girl. “no ‘cause i knew by then i only wanted to kiss you, you and no one else. been savin’ my kisses for you.” he taps her chin, basking in the sound of her laugh. he watches her carefully as she ponders his question, wondering if she’ll attack him or answer it. it’s a pleasant surprise, seeing her choose the latter. trying to keep his expression neutral as he listens to the story, part of him regrets asking as images of lucy gray with that boy flash before his eyes, he finds himself nodding absently, processing. his eyebrow lifts slightly at the part about things and some issues, but he doesn’t pry, just hoping it wasn’t another billy taupe — sweet on the outside and abusive behind closed doors. “set up a vendor together,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. he’s not really upset but it should have been him. suddenly, he wants to set up a vendor at a fair with her. just to outdo that guy. “sounds serious.” still, his features light up when she reassures him that he’s the one she belongs with. “course, i’m still a cowboy! he ain’t got nothin’ on me. you just wait ’til i get back on a horse. i’ll show you.”

“well i have no choice but to forgive you now, but it really hurt back then.” little lucy gray would have been so happy to know future billy would one day apologize for the hurt she was feeling. “alright, i’m countin’ on you.” to tell her whatever he feels like is bothering him instead of repeating history. “well how darlin’ of you, baby boy,” hand rubs his cheek, “only us though.” a soft laugh emits, only they as children would want marriage that soon— but didn’t that prove they really were written in the stars all the more? “yeah, maybe i do.” she values marriage and daydreams about it, “but it has to be with you and if it doesn’t end up bein’ with you, i won’t want it.” lucy gray admits, deciding to completely honest about it since her mind is made all up on her stance about marriage anyway after experiencing what relationships are like when they’re not with her soulmate; the one meant for her. hearing his answers to her question, brows gently lift as she stares at him, “oh, alright.” saying casually, despite a little skepticism hidden deep down. “just left so easily like that?” sounds like a rebound, then. “abused…? never. you’re a drama king,” she giggles softly, watching the movie. “that’s what it means, billy b.” a smirk. a long pause in between them before she finally speaks again, “we’re insane.” that’s what she decides on, dropping these kisses and love confessions, but not officially being together… it’s insane.

[piastriprincess]

diamond  bright  ,  kiss  me  right ⸻  lando  norris  x  reader  .

featuring  lando  norris  ,  new(ish) relationship , love  confession  ,  reader  is  dramatic  as  hell  but  we  love  her word  count  1.8k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  !  i  have  basically  thought  about  nothing  but  law  school  for  the  past  two  days  but  i  was  missing  being  creative  and  wanted  to  give  you  all  something  fun  .  as  a  number  one  lando  defender  i  LOVED  writing  this  .  i  firmly  believe  he’s  a  little  bit  of  a  simp  when  he  really  likes  someone  …  very  precious  TO  ME  !  as  always  come  tell  me  what  you  think  or  send  me  a  request  !  okay  now  back  to  my  finals  studying  cave  .  love  you  all  <3  title  is  from  claws  by  charli  xcx  !

It was never supposed to be serious. 

You knew Lando Norris. The party-boy reputation, the DJ sets, a different girl at every circuit. When he sidled up to you at a bar in Monaco with that charming grin on his face, those blue-green eyes sparkling like the Mediterranean behind him, you didn’t expect much. An evening of harmless flirting, maybe. He’d buy you drinks. You might go home with him, if he wasn’t unbearably cocky. (You had a feeling he might be.) He was a player — you’d written him off in your mind before he even opened his mouth.

Turns out, you didn’t know Lando Norris at all. 

You didn’t know he would talk to you that entire night, looking ridiculously pleased every time he made you laugh, like he’d won a prize he hadn’t dared to hope for and couldn’t believe his luck. You didn’t know he would walk you home, and instead of asking to be invited up, asking if he could take you to dinner, hands stuck in his pockets so you couldn’t see the way they trembled. You didn’t know that one date would turn into nearly six months of good-morning texts, of coming home to bouquets of flowers on your doorstep just-because, of slow kisses that burned you up from the inside. 

It was like trying on a dress that looked ugly on the hanger and finding it fit you so well you never wanted to take it off again. To make a long story short, dating Lando was kind of your favorite thing. You liked everything about him. And lately, when you lay tangled in his sheets at night, his arms wrapped around your waist and his mouth pressed softly to your shoulder, breathing in his clean, boyish scent, you thought maybe your feelings were more than simply liking him. 

You couldn’t tell him, though, not yet. You cringed at the thought of the awkward silence that would stretch between you if he didn’t say it back. You trusted Lando — he was sweet to you in a way that made your chest ache sometimes, in a way that you couldn’t imagine being fake. But what if the thrill for him was all in the chase, the reckless desire to get something he thought he couldn’t have? What if now that he had you, now that he really knew you, the shine had worn off?

So you kept it to yourself. Let him slow dance with you in his kitchen to a song you’d never heard, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at you. Let him text you stupid jokes and ridiculous strings of emojis in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. Let him scrape his teeth over your collarbone and whisper your name like a prayer into the darkness. Loved him quietly, secretly, in the private corner of your heart he hadn’t quite found yet. 

You told yourself it was fine. Things were good between you. Great, even. You weren’t going to mess it up by saying it first. You would wait until he did. 

If he ever did. 

—

The most embarrassing moment of your life starts with a phone call. 

You’re weaving through the aisles of the grocery store, looking for the pasta. Lando’s had a long day of sponsor meetings and media, but insisted that he wanted to see you anyway for your regular date night. You agreed, on the condition you could make him dinner; you like the idea of taking care of him for once, instead of the other way around.  

Your phone starts buzzing, and you pull it out of your pocket, greeted with Lando’s face — some ridiculous photo he’d taken of the two of you early on, your cheeks pressed together like two halves of a heart. You answer without hesitating, shifting the basket of groceries onto your hip. “Hey, you.”

“Hi, gorgeous.” His voice is light, but you can hear the weariness underneath he’s trying to cover up. “Just checking what time you were thinking of coming over. Zak added a last-minute meeting to the calendar, but I should be done by 7.”

You prop the phone between your shoulder and your ear, grabbing a carton of eggs. “That’s fine. I’m just picking up the stuff now, I’ll stop at home and then come to yours.” You lo- You like the domesticity of the conversation. You wonder if someday, you’ll make grocery lists together, wander through the aisles side-by-side.

“My little chef,” he says, warmth in his voice. “Give me a sneak preview of the menu. What are you making me?” 

“Oh, I thought I’d whip up some sushi,” you tease, grin on your face. You can imagine him on the other end of the phone, crinkling his nose in disgust, and the thought lodges in your chest with a far-too-familiar fond ache. 

“Right, I actually have plans. Can’t have you over anymore,” he deadpans, like clockwork. 

You let out a bark of laughter, throwing a box of pasta into your basket. “I’m kidding. Do you think I don’t remember your freakish aversion to fish?”

“Wow. My own girlfriend, bullying me,” Lando sniffs. “Might just die now. Wasting away, starving and alone, with no one to comfort me.” 

“I’m making carbonara, you big baby,” you snort, pressing the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you inspect two different wedges of Parmesan. “And maybe cookies, for dessert.” You place the cheese in the basket, heading for the checkout lane. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Oh, you’re a goner. It does something stupid to your heart. 

“Guess the universe knew you needed me,” you reply, unpacking your basket onto the conveyor belt. You’re moving a little slowly; you only have one hand to unpack while the other holds the phone.

He laughs. “Score one for the universe.” His voice drops a little lower, a little softer. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too,” you reply, fumbling for your wallet as the cashier eyes you with increasing impatience, tapping at the card reader. A line has grown behind you, you realize. “Shit. Lan, I gotta go. I love you, bye.” Click.

You slide your sunglasses over your eyes as you step out of the air-conditioned grocery store. The weather as you walk home is warm. The late-afternoon sun hangs low and golden in the sky, and— 

You nearly drop the bag you’re carrying, catching it just before the eggs shatter over the Monaco sidewalk.

You told Lando you loved him. And you didn’t even realize it. 

—

By the time you get home, you’re seriously considering faking your own death.

You stand slumped against the wall of the elevator, cheeks burning with humiliation. You’ve spent the entire walk thinking up what feels like a thousand different ways to play it off — jokes, sarcasm, pretending you were talking to the cashier instead of him. They’re all stupid, all equally unlikely to work on Lando. Maybe the best option is to cancel tonight in favor of lying facedown on your carpet and never moving again. 

The elevator doors ding and slide open. You step off, turn the corner down your apartment hallway, and there’s Lando’s standing on your doorstep. 

For a minute, you think it’s a hallucination, because he can’t actually be in your hallway. He lives on the other side of Monaco, practically, and there’s always traffic. You stare at him, taking in the ruddy cheeks, the way the sweat beads at his temples, how he’s still trying to catch his breath.

He ran here, you realize, heart thudding wildly in your chest. He ran. 

The silence is terrifying, stretching between the two of you like a chasm. Then:

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“You’re supposed to be in a meeting,” you blurt, eyes wide. 

“Fuck the meeting,” he rasps, gaze trained on you. “Did you mean it?”

You have an out, now. You could lie, say it was unthinking, a force of habit from calling your mother, your friends. You could stay where you are, with those three little words rattling around your head every second of every day, and pretend it doesn’t kill you to hold them back now that you know what it feels like on your tongue. 

Or you could tell the truth, and take the chance that you’ll lose something, because there’s a possibility you could get everything. 

You look at the wild-eyed boy in front of you, who ran across Monaco just to see your face, and you already have your answer. 

“Yeah,” you say, voice small and heart in your throat. “Yeah, I meant it.”

He closes the distance between you in two steps, cups your cheeks in his hands, and smashes his lips to yours. It’s desperate, wild — your teeth knock together, and when you gasp against his mouth, he slides his tongue against yours in a way that makes your knees buckle. You pull him closer, closer, hands fisting into his shirt like he might disappear if you let go. 

“I love you too,” he gasps when you finally break apart, like it’s paining him to hold the words back. “Fuck. Been wanting to tell you for weeks, but I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You laugh wetly, forehead pressed against his. “I love you,” you say, and his whole face cracks into a smile so bright it’s like you’re looking at the sun. 

“Say it again,” he breathes. The look on his face is so obvious, all soft and awestruck. You wonder, distantly how you ever thought he didn’t feel the same.

“I love you,” you repeat, every syllable deliberate, and his arms wrap around you so fiercely it knocks the air out of your lungs. You yelp as he lifts you off your feet, laughing against his neck, your legs kicking uselessly for a second before you just give up and cling to him instead. He carries you to your door like that, arms steady and warm around you, and for one dizzying moment you think you could stay like this — weightless and safe and stupidly, overwhelmingly in love — forever. 

Maybe it was never supposed to be serious. But when he hugs you from behind while you stir the pasta, whispering I love you into your ear for the hundredth time that night like a promise he intends to keep, you seriously don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

[1980shorrorfilm]

about a girl

pairing…natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

in which…nat knows she doesn’t deserve you, but she can’t seem to let you go either.

before you read…post-rescue timeline; nat’s early twenties. suggestive language, implied sex. nat’s substance abuse is mentioned but not gone into detail about. not super toxic but not all sunshine n rainbows. reader has dated a man. your parents haunt the narrative.

the motel room is dark, except for the neon red ‘vacancy’ sign from outside peeking through the gap in the curtain. 

natalie is sat up, feet hanging over the bed and touching the floor, her black socks surely dirtied from the old beige carpet. there are more unknown stains than she cares to count, the place too cheap for her to even care at all. 

beggars can’t be choosers, she knows that well. 

she peeks over her shoulder, to where you lie on the other side of the mattress, the thin blanket up to your bare shoulders. your face is turned to her, illuminated by the sliver of the red glow outside the window. your eyes are shut and your expression is soft, you appear like an angel and she can’t help but admire you. it’s a habit.

natalie sighs lightly, completely turning her figure in your direction, watching you sleep. she finds serenity in yours.

everything in her life is bad. it’s been that way for a painfully long time and nat can’t cry about all the shit she’s endured because god would that take forever. what she can do, is hold onto the one good thing that fell in her pale palms. 

you. 

it was a frat party. she had no right being there, but of course she was, and she stumbled into a bedroom with you crying and your boyfriend apologizing; insisting sarah had made a move on him. nat inserted herself, asking who the fuck was sarah, already inviting herself in the room.

she had a few beers in her system, and she had all the context she needed to be pissed on your behalf.

her adrenaline was pumping, getting that itch for trouble, and nat loved picking fights with assholes like him.

especially when he called her a nosy bitch and tried pushing her out of the room with a false authority.

natalie punched him square in the face the moment he placed a finger on her. she had done so, repeatedly. did he deserve the severity of it? maybe not. but he seemed like a dick so it was worth it.

this wasn’t the first time you had met her, you had run into her at your local diner and heard the horror stories about her, but it had felt like it was the first time you were truly introduced to her. 

maybe it was the way you two sat alone outside on the porch steps, a borrowed bag of frozen pizza rolls on her fist while you both chuckled at how fucking ridiculous it was. and sure, your laugh turned into quiet sobs when the reality had set in, and yeah nat didn’t know what to fucking do, but her awkward attempt at comforting worked. 

you needed to hear that you weren’t the problem, and that it wasn’t your fault, and you couldn’t prevent your piece of shit ex from doing shitty things. that was the type of person he was. and you’re so different. 

you had laughed at that part and asked her how she knew that; nat said she could just tell. she could see something in you that she lost a long time ago…a light. and god damn any motherfucker that dims it. 

natalie would not let that happen—not again. 

after you had dried your tears on her shoulder, she had playfully offered to kill your ex. this made you smile, genuinely, for the first time of the night, and you realized you didn’t want to let her go right then and there. you two walked to the nearest burger joint and that was the beginning.

unfortunately, nat couldn’t control the narratives about her, and the cruel comments that would soon involve you. the whisperings behind your back, being excluded from your usual friend groups, to simply not being invited out by them at all—the fear that she would tag along spooking your so called ‘friends.’

they drifted away from you.

and you didn’t care…or tried not to. 

it hurt more when your parents started looking at you differently, being shamed for even hanging around nat. that girl was no good for you. they repeated that over and over hoping it would get through your thick skull and to the wiser part of your brain. but, they just had to give her a chance; that’s what you told yourself.

it was a warm saturday evening when you had nat over for dinner, the brunette trying to remain as respectful as possible despite not at all receiving it back.

they hardly gave her time to chew and swallow the spaghetti on her plate—the red sauce around her lips not helping their violent image of her—instead throwing her a bunch of questions you didn’t even let her answer. 

where she was staying, aware she was jumping place from to place at the moment, and unaware she was sneaking into your bedroom other nights. if she’s clean, knowing that she was far from, though she never involved you with whatever she drank or put in her nose.

if she was serious about you, and holy shit did the blood drain from their faces when she earnestly said yes. 

it wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear, or wanted to be true, because that had meant natalie had sunk her claws into you—into their daughter. a lowlife. a loser. a cannibal. a few of the nasty words they called your girlfriend directly to your face, making you start to avoid the house whenever you possibly could.

how could you feel comfortable in a home where the other part of you isn’t welcomed?

it wasn’t easy. natalie held you when you cried to her about it, insisting they’re good people, and shockingly, nat never thought otherwise. they raised you, so of course they had to be. you’re the beaming sun and she’s a damn black hole. she couldn’t blame them.

but she also couldn’t care to grant them their wish of leaving you. natalie did have her claws dug into you—but they’re in so deep and she cannot rip them out. plus, she’d be ‘better,’ one day.

it was fine. 

the months passed and natalie had you all to herself, and it was like heaven. 

taking you to the cinema and feeling you lean into her, somehow always finding whatever played on the screen to be boring and dozing off upon her shoulder—she realized you felt truly safe with her.

probably the only person who does or ever will.

taking you to the arcade just so she can let you beat her in whatever she played you against; not that you sucked, it’s just a lot of hands-on games and nat was pretty good with her hands. 

you eyed them each time she held a joystick, the girl is always quick and precise—until she catches her concentration and lets up a bit, knowing she’s about to beat your high score. you’d roll your eyes when she’d groan how difficult the game was.

bringing you out to dinner, never at those higher end places your parents go to, but you preferred it that way. you liked eating greasy burgers with her or soft pancakes at night—always listening to whatever love song played from the jukebox, usually something slower from the sixties, enjoying it until one of the truckers at the counter paid for something else. 

those moments with natalie meant everything to you. 

even the bad ones.

it was the diner parking lot, right when the sun had just set. you had been asked politely to leave after finishing your apple pie, the waitress not well suited for the situation that unfolded. a group of boys way too old to be so immature, shouting the most disgusting things at nat—and you—such as asking you if you’re next on her menu.

this was when natalie had lost it, because she didn’t care what they said about her, she’s heard it all before. but getting you involved, that was just unacceptable. she jumped up from the booth with her cherry soda in hand, throwing it at the table and telling them to fuck off.

she took the air out of the restaurant.

you sat on the curb with her, listening to the stammered apology that left her mouth. you didn’t want to hear it, you only wanted her. you bluntly told her to shut up, and kissed her. 

natalie kissed back harder. 

you both got in your beat up car and drove to a midnight showing of the evil dead at the drive-in, where you had made out in the backseat until you could no longer feel your lips, and hers were redder than the corn syrup in the horror film.

you slipped up and whispered you loved her when her teeth were in your neck, then prayed to any higher power that she didn’t catch it. you didn’t want to scare her away, but it had done the exact opposite.

you fucking loved her. someone like you, could love her. and you didn’t care it was early and you didn’t care about the nasty looks you got from your peers or loved ones. you had natalie and that was all you needed.

you’d do anything for her.

even if that had meant dropping her off at shady places and being told to never bug her about it, and you would obey.

you kept your lips sealed when she’d slip into your unlocked bedroom window, violently faded and telling you she just needed to sleep it off. she’d hold you till she knocked out, so it was okay, even if she reeked of substances that would taint your freshly washed sheets, and you’d lose sleep making sure she slept on her side.

even if that meant paying her bail after a bar fight and you hadn’t even known she had gone out at all. and picking her up at three in the morning still in your pajamas.

you bit your tongue the entirety of the car ride to your home while she leaned back in the passenger seat, her legs spread as much as possible and her head facing toward the window. to the passing houses decorated with blossoming flowers and white picket fences, a life she knows she will never live. which meant, the possibility that you too, wouldn’t have. 

but you would have her.

she had always made up for her faults. not materialistic shit, more like heavy apologies that sometimes came with tears she’d harshly wipe away with her whole palm.

the thing with nat is, you see through her, not as the demon your parents make her out to be, but as the girl forced into a fucked up sense of adulthood before she could even put her childhood toys in a donation box. the immense trauma that stuck to her tighter than you do, and that was saying a whole lot.

she coped in ways you could never agree with, but you couldn’t change natalie.

you also couldn’t leave her.

it was hours prior when you had dressed up for your friends annual birthday bash, just to stand in the corner the whole time because no one offered you a conversation nor invited you into one. you felt pathetic, and out of place, and left early, no one noticing your silent disappearance. 

with the radio volume low you had drove back home, and dragged your feet to your room, just to see your bed covered with folded cardboard boxes. and a lengthy letter on top. your absent parents had a request—get out. 

they wrote that you changed, that you lost your self-respect when you allowed natalie to rule your life, or something stupid like that. that you weren’t their daughter anymore, not really.

you were too taken back for any of the words to sink in, the rug being pulled beneath your feet suddenly despite it inching away for nearly a year. you didn’t touch any of the boxes your parents so nicely had gifted you, your vision blurred with hot tears while you grabbed a duffel bag and threw a bunch of clothes and personal items inside.

it was hard to think—you needed to calm down, to see her.

you sped to the motel she’s been staying at for the last couple of days, hurried knocks on her door, the rain beginning to drizzle upon the asphalt. nat peeked through the windows curtain, hoping it wasn’t the last dealer she may have fucked over. when she saw you, she rushed to let you in.

the door swung open, and you just stared at her, your legs frozen while the tears ran down your face.

she pulled you into the room, and into her, her hand cradling the back of your head and her foot kicking the door back shut. between sobs, you told her what happened, and nat felt it. the guilt.

a flash of an image the night she saw you at that frat party, before she got so drunk and beat your ex in a strangers bedroom. when you were in your own world and dancing with your friends and not having a single fucking worry. then she came. 

natalie swallowed thickly, blinking away her own tears before you could pull away and notice. she gave you a reassuring smile, one that felt eerily forced, but she kissed you before you really noticed.

and you kissed back harder, desperate to numb all of the horrible things that you felt and thought. you pulled nat by her flannel onto the thin mattress, and asked her for one thing. to make you feel better. 

she did.

boy, did she.

you passed out right after nat cleaned you up and soothingly dragged her nails up and down your back. she tried to fall sleep too, even put on some shitty late night show hoping it would bore her to sleep. it didn’t. she turned it back off, studied the ceiling, then sat up, and stared at you.

you’re so pretty, and you’re all hers, and this isn’t a dream.

whether the world liked it or not, or your family approved of it or not, or if it was right, or wrong. 

natalie, slowly, gets up, careful not to disturb you. she redresses herself with the clothes you had taken off her earlier, grey sweats with a similar shade tee, accompanied by a brown and beige flannel that kept her warm. 

nat hovers over the bedside table, opening the drawer, and reaching inside. she ghosts her metal tin, grabbing her half-empty pack of cigarettes and a red lighter.

her steps are quiet when she exits the room, though she couldn’t prevent the obnoxious creaking beneath the carpeted floor, but again, she could afford this place therefore she couldn’t complain.

she doesn’t shut the door completely, letting it rest on the frame while she leans against the brick beside it. 

natalie sparks a cigarette, holding it with her lips while her hands lazily run over her hair, attempting to tame the dark and uneven chopped locks that were surely a mess. the way you liked it.

a blue jeep pulls into the lot, parking across from where she stands. natalie observes, returning her spread fingers to the cigarette hanging from her mouth, narrowing in on the driver.

it’s a younger man—younger than her—that gets out of the vehicle. he looks nearly pink. his head is down and he pulls his hoodie over his curls, both for security and out of shame. 

a taller guy wearing a green beanie comes from one of the nearby rooms, an abundance of smoke escaping from the scratched-up motel door. nat scoffs, watching him dig into the pocket of his dark jeans, pulling out something she couldn’t see; but could most definitely assume. 

especially when the younger one pulls out cash, shaky hands dropping it and then hurriedly collecting the paper, the exchange quick otherwise. a rookie. a person that probably never bought drugs before and doesn’t even know the shit he bought. 

a person letting their innocence slip away at this rundown motel…nat sighs.

she hopes her stress will fade into the oblivion with the smoke that dissipates in the air, and with the short time of her standing there listening to the rain drip from the gutter and a passing train occasionally blaring it’s horn—that wrong feeling somewhat does drift from her.

mostly, because nat is forcing herself to come to peace with one thing; that she is selfish. she’s lived her whole life doing shit for other people and cleaning up messes she didn’t cause, and for once she can just stop. 

she didn’t need to appease to anyone, to act like she’s better than she is because that’s what other people want to see from her. none of that—none of them—matter. she’s given everything and she’s lost everything.

she can have this one thing.

she was wrapped around your finger and your ribs and your lungs and every tiny heart string and she couldn’t untangle herself from you. no one else could see her the way you do, and that is another thing she’s at peace with. that didn’t matter because there wouldn’t be anyone else.

you left your own damn family because you are in love with her. and to be that loved in a life where she’s hardly ever felt it…she couldn’t lose that. 

it sounds bad, surely. but she learned the world wasn’t fair a very long time ago, and it’s never going to be, so why did she have to play fair? 

that was just fucking stupid. 

natalie inhales the cigarette smoke, letting it taint her lungs and burn her throat. then, she kneels and drags it to the ground, leaving it and reentering the room. you’re still asleep, she assumes, as she crawls into the bed beside you. then, nat hears your phone vibrate from the nightstand on your side. 

she chews her lip, reaching over you and grabbing it, flipping the bedazzled device open. predictably, it’s your folks begging for you to come home, already regretting their decision they hadn’t thought you’d truly consider, that you’d kick her to the curb like everyone else and go back to normalcy. a life without her. a nightmare. 

she hears you hum, shutting the phone off completely and shoving it under her pillow, watching you stir half awake. you only squint one sleepy eye open, a blurry vision of your girlfriend, barely making out the small smile on her beautiful face.

“nat…you stink.”

she laughs quietly at your words, slipping off her flannel and tossing it to the floor. she gets beneath the covers, your arm already reaching out and around her waist, snuggling into her despite the tobacco seeping into your nostrils. it doesn’t bother you as long as you feel her.

your head lays on her chest, directly above her pumping heart, drowning out everything but the thumping of it. that is all it takes for you to drift back into a peaceful slumber, nat noting how your sleepy body still clung to her. tight. trapping her.

because—in every sense—you didn’t want to let go of her either.

you believe you would do just about anything to have nat forever. throw away everything in your life and rebuild a new one with her.

and you will.

[littlefreakrry13]

⟡ but you won’t forget me ⟡

masterlist

A/n: I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AHH🧚🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️ also no hate to alex at all, this is pure fiction!! I love her she’s such a diva and a queen!!✨✨

Charles leclerc x childhood best friend! reader

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni),cheating, angst, emotional damage and healing, panic attack.

Word count: 3,888

You grew up on the same street.

Your childhood intertwined like a well-worn thread — inseparable, almost inevitable.

When you were kids, Charles used to race you to the end of the street. You'd always cheat — taking a shortcut through the alley that made him laugh and complain about unfairness. But you always let him win because you wanted him to keep smiling. He never needed to win to know he was better than you at everything.

When you were fourteen, you spent every summer evening by the docks, dangling your feet over the edge, looking out at the vastness of the sea. He was the kind of boy who didn’t need to say much — just enough to make you feel like the world revolved around you both. The air smelled of salt and possibility, and the whole world felt like it was waiting for something to happen. It was supposed to be your forever.

It all felt so simple then.

At sixteen, you kissed him for the first time. His lips tasted like summer — a little salty from the breeze, a little sweet from the lemonade you’d been drinking. You could feel the weight of it all, but you never said a word. You just kissed him back, soft, tentative, as if the world wouldn’t change in that moment. But it did.

And when you both dated through the rough patches of adolescence, no one ever really believed it would end.

But it did.

It ended the moment he left for Formula One. The moment the world became too big for him, too loud, and too bright.

And when he walked away, you let him go. You knew his dreams were more important than staying tied to your quiet street, the one that barely noticed the passing days. You made peace with it.

You’d still see his family, still visit his mom and brothers, pretending you didn’t feel the hole where he used to be. You made yourself believe that you’d moved on. But deep down, you were lying to yourself. You didn’t move on. You just learned how to live with it.

It’s been years.

Charles is back in Monaco for the first time in what feels like forever. He’s bringing someone with him.

Alexandra.

You don’t need to know much. You don’t need to know what she looks like, or how long they’ve been dating. All you need to know is that it doesn’t matter. Because Charles will always be Charles, and you’ll always be the girl who kissed him at sixteen and watched him disappear.

Dinner that night is slow, agonizing torture.

Alex is lovely, charming, easy to like. She’s everything that fits with him now — polished, sophisticated, radiant in a way you never were. And you can see it in the way she laughs at things that aren’t even funny, in the way she strokes his arm across the table like she’s claiming him.

You want to look away. You do. But every time you glance at him, his eyes find you. They never leave you.

When his hand brushes yours by accident, you freeze, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his thumb traces the back of your hand just once, just enough to sting with memory. That simple, fleeting touch lights something in you that hasn’t been awake in years.

You catch him looking at you, his gaze sharp and intense, the kind of look that says I’ve missed you.

You feel it, too.

The ache.

The pull.

But you don’t let it show. You laugh, and pretend to be happy, and when Alex asks you about your life, you smile like everything is perfect.

But all the while, Charles’ eyes are on you, like they’ve always been.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Later, after dinner, you slip outside to the balcony, hoping the cool air will help clear your head.

The night air smells like salt. Familiar. Safe.

You lean against the railing, eyes fixed on the moonlit water, trying to push away the warmth that lingers in your chest. The weight of his gaze still follows you, even from a distance.

Then the door creaks behind you.

“Always out here after dinner,” he says softly.

You turn to face him. “Old habit.”

He steps closer, his presence a weight you can’t ignore. “You still look the same,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost reverent.

You feel your pulse quicken, a familiar tension that you know all too well. The distance between you two has never felt more unbearable. The air is charged — thick with everything you’ve been hiding.

“You look… different,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “But still the same.”

He smiles a little, but his eyes tell a different story. There’s something deep in them that makes your breath catch. It’s the same look he gave you back then, before everything got so complicated.

And before you can stop it, he’s standing right in front of you, his body heat radiating against yours. His hand brushes the side of your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s not an accident this time. He’s deliberately close. You can feel the warmth of him, the tension between your bodies electric.

You don’t move. You just look at him. Waiting. Wanting.

“Do you love her?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He hesitates. “I want to,” he says, but there’s no conviction in it. No strength.

Your heart sinks, but before you can say anything, he steps forward and brushes his lips against your forehead, gently, like a memory he’s afraid to let go of.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, his voice rough and low.

You close your eyes, your body trembling as you force the words out. “You shouldn’t be here.”

But it’s too late. His lips are on yours, soft at first. Tentative. Careful.

But the longer it lasts, the deeper it goes. You can feel the years of longing, the unanswered questions, the weight of what should have been. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss.

It’s slow at first, building. His lips on yours are soft, warm, almost too gentle. But there’s a hunger beneath it, something you both recognize. Something that has always been there, just beneath the surface.

You pull him closer, needing the contact, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His hands move down to your hips, gripping you firmly, pulling you against him, and the sudden pressure makes you gasp.

His lips trail down to your neck, kissing and sucking, leaving marks that burn like fire. You tilt your head back, giving him more access, your hands threading into his hair as you tug him back to you.

“Charles…” you breathe, your voice thick with desire.

His lips find yours again, harder this time. He kisses you like he’s starved for you. His hands explore, touching, feeling, pulling you closer until you can feel the unmistakable heat of him pressed against your thigh.

The tension is unbearable. Everything about this moment is wrong and right, but the way he feels against you is too much to resist. You slide your hands under his shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his back, the heat of his skin. He groans into your mouth at the contact, and you pull him even closer, if that’s even possible.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes, his voice shaky, his hand trailing up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of your nipple.

You look into his eyes, and for the first time, you know what you both need. The moment has stretched into eternity, and you’re both losing control.

But you won’t stop.

You won’t say a word. You don’t need to.

You drag him closer, and in that moment, the years of waiting are over. You need him. You want him. And this time, you’re not going to let him slip away.

His lips devour you, hot and messy, as his hands slide under your skirt. The sensation of his fingers against your bare skin makes you gasp, and you meet his urgency with equal force, pushing him back against the wall. You press your body into his, grinding against the hardness that’s unmistakable, and you can feel the heat building, getting unbearable.

“Fuck…” he groans, breaking away for just a second to breathe. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Then take me,” you whisper, breathless.

Without another word, he lifts you easily, pushing you against the nearest doorframe. His hands work quickly, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it aside before pulling down his jeans, his gaze never leaving yours. His movements are frantic now, desperate for the closeness you both crave.

You’ve never been so aware of the way your bodies fit together — so familiar, so right. His lips return to yours, harder now, as he pushes into you, making you both moan from the intensity. Every movement is deliberate, every touch a desperate promise that you’re not letting go again.

The world falls away as you both lose yourselves in the sensations, in the heat of his body, in the need for each other. The kiss deepens, becoming desperate, as he moves against you, both of you teetering on the edge, wanting, needing, more.

“Charles…” you moan his name, and his response is a low growl in your ear. He pulls you even closer, his body a living fire against yours, as the night turns into something neither of you will ever forget.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the warmth surrounding you.

It's not the crisp coolness of your sheets or the sterile chill of the guest room. No, this warmth is his. You’re wrapped in his arms, his body pressed against yours, and you can feel the slow, steady rhythm of his breath against the back of your neck. It feels so familiar, so safe, and for a split second, you forget where you are.

But then reality crashes in.

You remember the night before — the kiss, the hunger, the desperate need. You remember the way his lips moved against yours, the way he felt inside you, the way you both lost control.

And then you remember her.

Alex.

The warmth in your chest turns into a sick feeling, the kind that coils tight and heavy. You sit up, your heart pounding, your body still warm from his touch but suddenly filled with guilt. Panic floods your veins as you glance around the room. You recognize it — Charles’ room. The expensive decor, the half-open blinds letting in the morning light, the lingering smell of sex in the air. But none of it matters right now.

What matters is the chaos swirling inside you, the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to pull you under.

You look down at yourself — your clothes from last night are in a crumpled heap on the floor, and you’re left with nothing but the remnants of what should have been a mistake.

Oh God.

What have you done?

Charles shifts behind you, his arm still draped across your waist, and you freeze. The sound of his breath, the way he shifts to face you, the soft groan that escapes him as he blinks awake — it makes your heart race in the worst way possible.

His hand finds your shoulder, and he pulls you back to him, pressing his lips to your bare back. You stiffen, trying to fight the flood of guilt that makes it hard to breathe.

“Morning,” he mumbles into your skin, his voice groggy, still thick with sleep.

But it’s not morning for you. Not anymore.

You don’t know how to respond. You can’t look at him right now. The shame, the overwhelming regret, it’s suffocating.

You cheated on her. You fucking cheated on her.

Your breath catches in your throat as the reality settles in like ice in your veins. You’ve never felt worse. The thoughts begin to spiral.

“I should go,” you whisper, but your voice cracks, betraying the panic that’s setting in. You feel like you’re suffocating in this moment.

Charles’ hand tightens on your arm, his thumb gently grazing your skin in that comforting way he’s always done, but this time, it only feels wrong.

“What do you mean?” His voice is soft, confused, still lost in the haze of sleep.

But you can’t deal with it. You can’t stay. Not like this.

“I can’t stay,” you say again, more firmly this time, pulling away from him. “I— this wasn’t supposed to happen. You’re with her. You’re with Alex.”

He blinks at you in confusion, his brows furrowed, the remnants of the night before slowly dawning on him. You watch as the light of realization flickers in his eyes. He sits up, looking at you, his hand still reaching for you as if he wants to pull you back to him.

“Wait, you’re panicking—” he starts, his voice thick with confusion and sleep, but you shake your head before he can finish.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you say, your voice trembling now. “You’re with her. You cheated on her. On someone who… who trusts you. And I— I’m the one who—”

“No.” His voice interrupts you, harsh now, a little panicked, a little desperate. “Don’t say that. You didn’t cheat. I did.” He reaches for you again, but you pull away from his touch, your heart pounding too hard to ignore.

You stare at him, the words hanging in the air like they don’t belong in your world. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Not with him. Not like this.

“Charles, you’re with her. You have to go back to her. She’s your girlfriend.” The words sound almost foreign coming from your lips, but they’re true, and they hurt more than you expect.

He runs a hand through his hair, his face twisted with frustration. He looks so… lost. But it’s not your responsibility to fix it anymore. It can’t be.

“Alex isn’t you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is intense, searching, like he’s trying to find the words to explain this. To explain everything.

But you can’t take it anymore. You push yourself off the bed, grabbing for your clothes, your body shaking with anxiety and regret. You need space. You need distance.

“Don’t make this harder,” you say, as much to yourself as to him. “I need to leave.”

Charles doesn’t move. He just watches you, like he’s paralyzed. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wants to say something — wants to fix this, wants to make it okay — but nothing he says can take away the guilt and the mess of what you’ve done.

Finally, he stands, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes, but it’s not aimed at you. It’s something else. Something buried deep inside him.

“You’re right. I fucked up. I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse with regret. “I should’ve never let it go this far. I should have never hurt you like this.”

The words stutter out of his mouth, but they don’t make things better. They don’t fix the reality of what’s happening. You’ve both crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed.

But you need to get away. You can’t stay here.

“Just… don’t contact me. Not now. Not after all this,” you say, your voice strained.

You pull on your clothes in a blur, trying to keep yourself together, but the tears are too close to the surface. You can’t cry. You won’t let him see how much this is breaking you.

“Please don’t do this,” Charles pleads as you reach for the door.

You don’t turn back. You can’t.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of silence, of you trying to move on, of pretending the night with Charles never happened. Every time you close your eyes, his face, his hands, the way his lips felt on your skin flash before your mind. But the guilt never fades. You knew what you did. You knew you weren’t the only one involved. You hurt someone who didn’t deserve it — and all the while, you could feel the rift between you and Charles widening with every passing day.

You thought it would get easier.

But it doesn’t. It only gets harder.

The first time you see Charles’ name on your phone, your heart stops in your chest. You almost don’t want to pick up. You don’t know what he could possibly say after everything. But you do.

“Hello?” Your voice is shaky, your heart racing. You didn’t expect him to reach out, not like this.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, rough around the edges. “It’s me.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “I know.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, and you can practically feel the weight of everything he wants to say but can’t. You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue, to finally break the silence that’s been strangling both of you.

“Listen… I don’t know where to start,” Charles says, his voice thick with emotion. You can hear the pain in it. He’s not hiding it. He’s not pretending anymore.

But you don’t know how to react. You’re still trying to protect your own heart.

“Just say it, Charles,” you whisper. “I can’t keep doing this, pretending like everything’s okay.”

There’s another pause, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable. It’s full of unspoken words, regret, and something deeper. You can feel the storm building on the other side of the line, like he’s about to do something that might change everything.

“I ended it,” he finally says, and you almost drop the phone in shock. “I ended things with Alex.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“What?” You can barely get the word out, your breath catching in your throat. “You— you broke up with her?”

“Yeah. I did,” he admits, and you can hear the heaviness in his voice. “I couldn’t keep pretending. I couldn’t keep lying to her or to myself. I thought I could move on, that I could make things work with her, but I’ve been lying. I’ve been lying about you. About us. And I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you both. He sounds raw, like he’s been carrying something too heavy for far too long.

“I didn’t want to hurt her, but I’ve been hurting you this whole time. Every second. And I couldn’t live with it anymore.”

You feel the tears prick at the back of your eyes, and for a second, you let yourself breathe. This moment — this decision — it feels like everything is shifting.

“Charles, I— I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. You don’t know if you’re angry or relieved or confused. There’s so much swirling inside you, it’s hard to make sense of any of it.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me right away,” he says quickly, his voice desperate. “I don’t expect anything. But I needed you to know that I made the decision. I chose you.” The words are heavy, deliberate. “And if you’re still willing to give me a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his confession sink into your chest. You want to scream, to cry, to let out the years of frustration, but instead, you feel a strange calm wash over you.

You don’t know if you’re ready. You don’t know if you can trust him again, after everything. But the truth is, the love you’ve always felt for him — the feelings that never truly went away — are still there. And now, after all this time, they’re coming to the surface.

“I don’t know what happens next, Charles,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can just pick up where we left off. I don’t know if I can forget that… that you were with her, and I…”

He cuts you off gently, almost pleading. “I fucked up. I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe that this time, it could be different.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” you murmur, your heart heavy. “I don’t want to be the other woman.”

He lets out a slow, pained breath, and you can hear how much this is affecting him, too. “You’ll never be ‘the other woman,’” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You’re the one. The only one.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s standing still. The silence that fills the space between you both isn’t uncomfortable anymore. It’s full of possibilities, full of the unspoken future you both might have, if you’re brave enough to face it.

“I need time,” you finally say. Your voice is calm, measured, as you let the weight of the moment sink in. “But I’m not saying no.”

You hear his sharp exhale on the other end of the line, a sound of relief that’s almost as overwhelming as the emotions you’re feeling.

“I’ll give you all the time you need,” he says. “I’ll wait. And I’ll prove to you that this was the right choice. For both of us.”

A few weeks later, Charles reaches out again, this time to ask you to meet him.

You still have your doubts. You still have your fears. But when you see him — standing at the edge of the street, looking like he’s about to ask for the world — you realize that some things never change. Some things were always meant to be.

And in that moment, you both know — this is your chance. A chance to heal, to fix what was broken, and to finally let go of the past.

You take a step forward, and he reaches for your hand.

And this time, it feels right.

END.

[wendichester]

it’s me again girl💋

please can I request Cass x Winchester!reader (Sam and deans younger sister) where Sam and Dean are trying to research but reader and Castiel are playing footsies under the table giggling like teenagers

-💌

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ angel in your lap, devil in your smile,

summary. you should be focusing on this really serious, really important research session. but castiel is sitting across from you. and well, you can't help yourselves.

pairing. castiel x winchester!reader genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 589

notes / warnings. honestly, such a cute idea. i think I'm falling for cas, slow but god damn steady.

Sam’s got three books open in front of him and still looks pissed.

Dean’s scowling at his laptop like it personally insulted him.

There are post-it notes, empty coffee cups, and one very aggressive stack of lore on ancient Babylonian banishment rituals spread across the war room table.

And then there’s you.

Sitting right across from Castiel, pretending to read.

You flip a page you haven’t actually looked at.

Cas’s foot nudges yours.

You smile into your book.

Another nudge. This time, deliberate. A slow little drag of his boot along the inside of your ankle. You twitch slightly and accidentally let out a breathy giggle.

Dean doesn’t even glance up. “What’s funny?”

“Hmm?” you blink innocently.

He narrows his eyes. “You laughing at our impending doom, or did Cas grow a sense of humor when I wasn’t looking?”

“I am capable of humor,” Castiel says solemnly.

You stifle another laugh. His poker face is immaculate.

Sam groans. “Can we focus, please?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says. “This is very serious.”

You bite your lip.

Under the table, his foot slides up your calf.

You kick him gently, and he kicks back. It turns into this soft, flirty little tug-of-war under the table — just a touch here, a nudge there — and you can’t stop smiling.

You glance up at him. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon. Like this isn’t just flirting to him — it’s worship.

You have to look back down before Dean starts asking questions.

Too late.

Dean lowers his laptop and gives you a look.

You blink. “What?”

He gestures vaguely between you and Cas. “Why do you look like you just got laid?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. “I—”

“I do not understand the correlation,” Castiel says, ever helpful. “She is smiling. She often smiles after we—”

“OKAY,” Sam barks. “Nope. No. We are not doing this right now.”

Dean leans back in his chair. “You gotta be kidding me.”

You cross your arms. “What, I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“Not with him, you’re not.”

“Dean—”

“He’s an angel!”

“Yeah, and you dated a demon.”

Sam coughs pointedly.

Dean scowls. “Different. Totally different.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t have to sit across from her while she was playing footsies with him during a demonic meltdown!”

Your jaw drops. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew! You’ve got heart eyes the size of Kansas!”

Castiel tilts his head. “That’s not anatomically accurate—”

Dean throws his hands in the air. “This is my life. Ancient demons, horny angels, and my sister giggling like a teenager while we’re trying to stop the apocalypse.”

Sam mutters, “Honestly, kind of impressive.”

Dean shoots him a look.

You clear your throat. “Okay, yes. We were playing footsies. Sue us.”

“You’re not even sorry,” Dean mutters.

Cas looks at you. “Should I be?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Nope.”

Dean slumps back in his chair. “Great. Awesome. My angel’s whipped. My sister’s in love. Sam’s useless. I’m the only one doing any work around here.”

Sam flips a page. “We could banish you and see how that goes.”

“I’m surrounded by traitors.”

You reach under the table and grab Cas’s hand. He squeezes gently, thumb brushing your knuckles.

And yeah, okay, maybe you are smiling like an idiot.

But as Castiel leans in — quiet, close, lips brushing your temple before he goes back to his book — you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad.

Because honestly?

Let the world end.

You’ll go down holding his hand.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[spiderb00]

- Fam out #7

Sophia Laforteza x reader  

“The dinner with has finally arrived, and it's time to find out who Evie is! Luckily, your girlfriend is always by your side” 

Genre – fluff        warnings - none 

Now playing – Rude, by MAGIC! 

“can i have your daughter for the rest of my life?” 

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

"You're right. This is bad."  

Manon's girlfriend was the first to speak. After you told everyone that Yoonchae had a girlfriend, silence settled over the room. You freaking out, Sophia rolling her eyes at every word that came out of your mouth and each of the girls in the living room giving you their own reactions to this information.   

Yoonchae wasn't present at the small reunion you called. And now, you wondered what the girl was doing.   

“Babe.” Manon patted her girlfriend's belly, scolding her. Knowing that she was only saying that to make you feel crazier.  

“What?” Her girlfriend asked, laughing. "We don't know this girl. She could be a criminal! A drug dealer who will put Yoonchae in the middle of her business!"  

You widened your eyes, looking at Sophia as if to ask if this was a possibility, causing the woman to deny it and snort, before putting her hands on her head in a sign of despair. Sophia had been struggling with all your outbursts ever since the maknae dropped the bombshell in both your laps. At first she thought your concern for Yoonchae was cute, but now it was starting to get on her nerves.  

“Baby, Yoonchae's girlfriend is not a drug dealer.” Sophia said, looking at you as she stroked the messy strands of hair on your head, before looking at Manon's girlfriend with a frown. “Eve is just a seventeen-year-old girl.”  

“You don't know how today's teenagers think...” Manon's girlfriend continued.  

"All right, that's it. You're grounded! Go wait in my room!" Manon pointed to the stairs. The brunette's voice was authoritative and made her girlfriend wince slightly, before standing up.   

Megan and her girlfriend were laughing at the whole situation, as was Lara's girlfriend, who got a little nip from the Indian girl. Only to discover that she was trying to hold in her laughter too.   

“ Grounding?” Daniela's girlfriend asked sarcastically, receiving a middle finger from the girl who was now climbing the stairs.   

“Do you want to join her?” Daniela asked, making her girlfriend wipe the smile off her face and shake her head negatively.   

"Sorry. I'm trying to deal with her hyperactivity." Manon explained before letting the conversation continue.   

“Look, guys, I know it seems a bit weird to have Yoonchip dating, but it was bound to happen at some point.” You groaned in disappointment at your girlfriend's words. “She's growing up and we can't protect her from everything forever.” Another groan of disapproval. “All we can do is guide her and hope that this girl is really nice.” You groaned again in disapproval.   

This time you really managed to get your girlfriend's attention.   

“All right, if you do that one more time you'll be waiting upstairs with Manon's girlfriend!”   

Turning off the lights in the bathroom, you walked towards your bed, the house was silent and you were still thinking about the conversation you had with the girls earlier. At the same time as you thought you were overreacting, you swore that you just didn't want Yoonchae to get hurt.   

You knew more than anyone how cruel first love can be, how exciting and scary. You've had your own experience, and you've struggled a lot to really have a love like the one you have with Sophia. You just don't want things to go wrong for Yoonchae like they did for you.   

Walking over to the bed, you pulled back the blanket, lying down on the right side of the bed - you always slept on this side, because your girlfriend didn't like sleeping near the door. Sighing, you leaned your head against Sophia's shoulder, the woman reading what she always read before going to bed.  

“Do you think I'm exaggerating?” You asked as you kissed the Filipina's shoulder.   

“I think you're worrying too much.” Putting down the book, Sophia grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Yoonchae is smart, she knows how to take care of herself.”   

“She's still just a child to me...”   

"I think she'll always be just a child to all of us, Mahal. But we have to face the fact that she's growing up."  

You nodded, kissing Sophia's shoulder again before you heard a light knock on the door to your room.   

After a little “Come in” from Sophia, the topic of the moment poked his head into the room. The typical little smile on her face.   

“I just came to say good night...”  

The Korean girl looked shy, almost as if she were tiptoeing around, avoiding starting a conversation she didn't want to or even giving you another heart attack.   

Sighing, you sat up properly on the bed, patting the space between you and Sophia with your hand. With a shy smile on her face, Yoonchae approached, crawling on the soft mattress until she was sitting between you and your girlfriend. 

“Sorry about my reaction before, Yoonchip...” You began, attracting curious looks not only from the maknae, but also from your girlfriend. "I guess I got too overprotective with you. I just don't want you to go through the same things I did."  

Yoonchae's gaze was compassionate, as if she completely understood your point. Meanwhile, Sophia looked at you in confusion, she knew that you hadn't had good experiences with love before, but at no point did she associate this with your protectiveness towards Yoonchae.   

“All right, I understand.” Yoonchae said, taking your hand in hers. "But I promise, Evie is great! She's not an idiot and I certainly wouldn't be with her if she was one."  

Smiling, you ran your thumb over the back of the girl's hand. Sophia just watched the whole interaction between the two of you, stroking Yoonchae's hair. "I know you don't. You're too smart not to notice if something's wrong."   

Laughing, you and the girls let a comfortable silence fall between you. The mood quickly became more relaxed as the guarded words were spoken.   

"Look, how about you invite Evie for dinner tomorrow? Then we can get to know her once and for all..."   

"REALLY? That would be great!" The girl perked up, jumping out of bed as she ran towards the door. "I'll text her and tell her everything. I love you!"  

The door closed with a satisfying click, Yoonchae probably running towards her room, texting Evie. Meanwhile, the woman next to you looked at you with admiration.   

“I'm so proud of you.” Sophia said, pulling you close so that she could lie on your chest.   

“It was the right thing to do.” You reply, stroking Sophia's hair before closing your eyes, breathing in relief at having resolved the tension between you and Yoonchae.   

“You're going to be a wonderful mother, you know that?” Sophia's words made you open your eyes, only to see that the woman was already looking at you with passionate eyes. “I can't wait to have a family with you.”  

Reaching out, your fingertips brushed against Sophia's chin, pulling the Filipina closer until your lips touched. The kiss was slow, tender and passionate. The idea of starting a family always left your hearts beating at a much faster pace than normal.  

“I'm going to be the happiest woman in the world when that happens!” 

“How do I look?” You asked Sophia for the second time.   

The woman - who was standing in front of the mirror, putting on her earrings - rolled her eyes with a smile, before finally turning towards you, grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you into a quick kiss. The sensation of her gloss on your lips made you want more than a lip seal.   

“You look beautiful!” The Filipina said, loosening your shirt and smoothing out the places crumpled by her grip. “You seem to be more nervous than Yoonchae.”  

As if on cue, the younger girl came into the room like a hurricane.  

“HOW DO I LOOK?”   

Laughing, Sophia glanced between the two of you, before turning once more to the dressing table mirror. “Wow, you two really could be mother and daughter...”  

“You look beautiful.” You said, ignoring your girlfriend's comment. “Relax, she'll find you beautiful anyway.”   

The sound of the doorbell ringing made Yoonchae's heart race again, fearing that her girlfriend had finally arrived. She knew that Evie was punctual, so she went downstairs as quickly as possible.   

“DON'T RUN ON THE STAIRS!”  

You nodded. God save your future children from Sophia's screams.   

Yoonchae, meanwhile, opened the door, slightly out of breath. Her smile faded as soon as she saw the scene in front of the house. Manon's girlfriend's arms around Evie's shoulders as she said something nonsensical to the girl - who by now looked pretty bored. The girls were all behind the pair, huddled by the door touching up their make-up or fixing their hair.   

“Hi Yoonchip, look who we found by practically ringing the doorbell.” Manon's girlfriend entered, dragging Evie along with her, not before winking at the maknae.   

“Baby, leave the girl alone!” Manon said, coming in right after.   

“Hey girl.” Daniela's girlfriend was the next to enter. A backpack on her back and the smell of smoke permeating her clothes.   

"God, where were you? In a barbecue?" Yoonchae complained, turning away from the woman as she let her into the house. 

“She's just come off a shift at work.” Daniela explained, smiling at her girlfriend as she watched her all dirty.  

"First, get that look off your face. That's disgusting." Yoonchae said, looking at the Latina like she was insane. "And you, use the bathroom in the guest room. You can change there too."  

“I love you, Yoonchip.” The woman said, coming forward to hug the maknae.  

“HEY!” Yoonchae shouted, pulling away from the woman with her hands raised, putting distance between the two. “Save that mess for Dani.”  

Laughing, the firewoman climbed the stairs. Yoonchae just watched as Daniela followed her girlfriend. Mumbling something about helping her with her clothes. As the Latina walked up the stairs, you walked down, looking at the woman with a confused look as she seemed a little too excited - at least for someone who was just going to help her girlfriend with her clothes.  

“Hey, you guys are here.” You said, seeing Megan and Lara with their girlfriends. “Nothing from the special guest?”  

"She's already arrived. Manon's girlfriend is stuck on her." Megan's girlfriend said, laughing as she was accompanied by Lara's girlfriend.  

“Poor girl.” You said. “All right, how about you go and rescue your girlfriend and I'll take care of the door.”  

Yoonchae nodded, heading towards the kitchen, but not before whispering a “thank you” to you.  

"Have you finally come to terms with all this? Lara was the first to ask. All the girls watched you sigh and shrug.  

“Well, it was bound to happen at some point.”  

Dinner went well, as far as that was possible. After Sophia finished getting ready and Daniela and her girlfriend came downstairs flushed and panting, you finally started dinner. The conversation didn't flow as much, an awkward silence settled in at times, causing Sophia to start a conversation - which would soon end, making the silence take over again.  

"All right. I don't think anyone will ask, so I'll be the brave one here!" Manon's girlfriend began, causing everyone at the table to turn their heads attentively towards her. "How did you two meet? Like, since when does Yoonchae have time to get to know someone?"  

Yoonchae opened her mouth, only to close it again, not knowing what to say. All eyes were on her and she hated it.  

“We met at school.” Evie was the first to speak. “We did a project together.”  

The girl's hand grabbed Yoonchae's under the table. Hearing her girlfriend's breathing calm down, Evelyn calmed down along with her.  

“Like in the movies, cool.”  

“Awn, how cute.” Megan said, looking at her girlfriend.  

“ Really cute.” The actress agreed.  

“We weren't that close.” Yoonchae began. "But... Evie defended me from some people who were laughing at me."  

You dropped your fork, making the loud clinking of cutlery with plate echo through the house. “Were you getting bullying?  

” “It wasn't bullying.” Yoonchae tried.  

“Yes, it was.” Evie retorted. Evie retorted.  

“All right, maybe it was a little bit...”  

“Yoonchip, why didn't you tell us?” Sophia asked. Reaching across your chair to stroke your back, knowing that you would probably be uncomfortable with this situation.  

" Well. It didn't last long. And Evie sorted it out."  

The table fell silent. Evelyn poked at the piece of chicken on her plate with her fork, squeezing her girlfriend's hand under the table. The girls were standing around, watching the strangely maternal interaction between you and the girls.  

“Thank you for protecting her.” You were the first to speak. Directing your gaze at Evie. The girl giving you a - genuine - tight-lipped smile.  

“Always.” 

“So, now we have another teenager dating,” you said, lying on the bed while you waited for Sophia to come out of the bathroom.  

The girls had already gone home, Yoonchae would be sleeping at the Kats' tonight, so when dinner was over and you'd finished washing all the evening's dishes, you went upstairs and waited patiently for your girlfriend to come out of the bathroom.  

“Isn't it strange how we're all dating at the same time?” You rambled on, staring at the bathroom door, as if Sophia were there.  

You could hear the woman grumbling from time to time. You just assumed she was doing her nightly skincare, and chose not to slip into the bathroom with her.  

"Dinner was nice. Maybe you could do it again." You heard a small murmur of agreement coming from the bathroom. "God, it's a good thing we don't have another child. I don't think I could handle another teenager starting to date."  

Hearing the bathroom door open, you looked towards the sound. You swore you might faint.  

Sophia, your girlfriend, stood there in the sexiest lingerie you'd ever seen in your life. The teasing smile on her face told you that she had gotten exactly the reaction she wanted from you. The glossy sages drawing your attention to her lips and the bra making you mesmerized. You honestly looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Walking towards the bed, Sophia climbed on top of you, taking her place on your lap. Taking your hands only to guide them to her waist.  

"You know, Mahal. If we make it hard enough, maybe a few years down the line we'll have another teenager in the house."  

“We can test it!” 

it's almost 3 AM here. I'm dead

drink water and be safe,

xoxo, spider.

[makis-eyebrows]

Hidden Treasure

Charles shows much of his life on social media and so on. But what happens when fans find out that for the past four years, he's been a father?

For Charles Leclerc, Monaco Was Home — and Home Meant Family.

But not the family the public knew about.

Very few people knew that Charles had a daughter, a bright-eyed, sweet-spirited little girl named Y/n, who was now four years old.

His teammates knew. Some of the paddock knew.

But beyond that?

It was one of the best-kept secrets in Formula 1.

And that’s exactly how Charles wanted it.

He had promised himself — and Y/n’s mom — Alexandra — their daughter would grow up normal. No flashing cameras in her face. No strangers yelling her name. No pressure, no judgment, no world constantly watching her every move like they did with him.

To the public, Charles was just a young driver, dating a beautiful girl, chasing world championships.

The truth was much deeper, much more precious.

Until One Afternoon in Monaco.

It was supposed to be a normal Sunday.

A walk along the harbor. Ice cream. Laughing at the ducks.

Charles carried Y/n on his shoulders, her tiny hands curled tightly into his hair. Alexandra strolled beside them, laughing at something silly Y/n had said.

But somewhere in the busy Monaco streets, a fan with a sharp eye and a quicker phone caught them.

One photo.

Posted online.

"Is that a kid?? Charles has a DAUGHTER??"

Within hours, it spread like wildfire across Twitter, Instagram, Reddit — everywhere.

Speculation. Theories. Wild guesses about her name, her age, her mother.

Some were kind.

Some were not.

Charles only found out because Pierre Gasly texted him a screenshot.

Pierre:

Mate… you might wanna check Twitter. Like, NOW.

Charles’s heart dropped. He immediately checked — and sure enough, his worst fear was unfolding.

Fans were digging. Some were trying to find Y/n’s school. Others were asking about his girlfriend.

It was spiraling — fast.

The Next Day, Charles Took Control.

He sat in front of his phone, started a livestream, and spoke calmly, but firmly:

"Bonjour, everyone... I normally don’t address things like this, but today I have to."

"Yes, the little girl in the photo is my daughter, Y/n."

"I made the choice to keep her private because... she deserves a childhood without cameras in her face, without strangers knowing her every move. She is the most important thing in my life — but she is not a public figure. She’s a child. My child."

He paused, emotion flickering behind his eyes.

"I’m asking — no, I'm begging — for her privacy to be respected. Please. She's innocent in all this."

"I share my racing, my career, even a part of my personal life with you all. But Y/n deserves a world that is safe and small, where she can grow up making mistakes, playing in the park, going to school, without being watched."

"Thank you to those who have supported me quietly all these years. Thank you for understanding."

He ended it there — no drama, no room for debate.

Just a father protecting his daughter.

In the Background

Drivers sent their support privately:

Lewis Hamilton:

Proud of you, man. Protect her at all costs.

Carlos Sainz:

Always here for you. She’s lucky to have you.

Sebastian Vettel (even though he had retired):

Family first, always. You're doing the right thing, Charles.

George Russell:

Well said. She doesn’t need a world full of cameras, just a dad who loves her. And she has that.

Meanwhile, at Home

Y/n didn’t understand the full situation.

All she knew was that Papa was a little sad today.

She padded into the living room in her tiny socks, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny.

“Papa?” she said quietly. “Why are you sad?”

Charles smiled softly, kneeling down to her level.

“Because I love you so much, mon amour. And sometimes... the world is a little noisy.”

Y/n tilted her head in that curious way she always did.

“Do we need to wear earmuffs?” she asked seriously.

Charles laughed — real, full, heart-mending laughter — and scooped her into his arms.

“Maybe we do,” he whispered into her hair.

“But no matter how noisy the world gets, I'll always be right here.”

Because to Charles Leclerc, there was no trophy, no pole position, no crowd that mattered more... than his little girl.

I just wanted to post this cuz why not? It's cute though.

I was really thinking of making my first story a series but I'm not really sure as yet so... I don't know. Ideas?

Also, I want to start doing so F1 SMAUs and it doesn't even have to be one of the drivers being a father. They can be a partner, brother, you name it. So you can request if you want, their always open :)

That's Gang Gang out!!!!♡

[prettydaisygirl]

after reading your fratjames potter x reader work it did something for me! And it made me think of angsty idea

May I request a modern au where the reader and James are already in an established relationship ship

And because of a bad friend of James they have misunderstanding and some incident happen and reader happens to be present at the wrong time and because of that the bad friend spread misinfo and James believe that friend ....so it kinda leads to James hurting readers feelings

Pls feel free to ignore if i couldn't get my idea across ❤️

Hi, lovely! Thank you so much for your request! It also spawned another idea in my brain so there's another James fic coming soon also inspired by you! I hope this is what you were looking for, I appreciate you taking the time to send me a request. Much love <3

boyfriend!James Potter x fem!reader who disagree about Peter ✿ 927 words

cw: fem reader, Peter is the worst, misunderstanding, angst, open ended.

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

You really, really try to like Peter. He’s the only member of James’ group that you don’t consider a good friend. 

It’s not that you think Peter is a bad person. But sometimes he says things about people that you think are… harsh. Sometimes even cruel. And usually these things are said behind the targeted person’s back. You don’t like that.

Every time you bring it up to James, voice whispered and hesitant so you don’t rock the boat, he tells you that he and the other boys have just learned not to listen to Peter’s cruel words. 

“But how can you just… let him sit there and say things like that?” You’ll argue, though your tone is soft and your fingers will brush over his chest like they belong there. Because they do.

James will take a heavy breath and meet your eyes, barely able to see the glint of your pupils in the darkness of the bedroom. “After a while… you start to realize that the things that Peter says are true.” Silence will fill the air for just a moment and then, “He usually just says a meaner version of what everyone else is already thinking.”

So you put on a smile, and you tolerate Peter. 

You sip your glass of wine, eyes moving over the restaurant’s fancy decor. The tall ceilings and shimmering chandeliers do nothing to aid the awkward silence at the dinner table. 

For whatever reason, James had agreed for the two of you to go on a double date with Peter and his new girlfriend. She sits across from you, typing away on her phone without a care in the world. James had just stood up to go to the bathroom, leaving you and Peter in awkward, tense silence. 

Your eyes land on Peter when he clears his throat, a smirk appearing on his lips. You hate the way it makes your skin crawl. 

“Don’t you think James is a bit obnoxious?” He asks, and you’re sure anyone else would laugh out loud at the face you make. 

“What?” You ask, disbelief and offense dripping in your tone, “Of course, I don’t!”

Peter’s eyebrows raise and the corner of his lip turns up even more like you said exactly what he wanted to hear. His girlfriend’s eyes raise up from her phone long enough to look between the two of you before lowering again. 

“Oh, come on,” Peter encourages cruelly, “You don’t really buy that whole teddy bear, lover-boy act, do you?” His eyes roll, “I’ve known James for years, and it’s always the same. He finds a girl he really likes, absolutely fawns over her until he gets bored, and then he finds another one. Simple as that.”

Your stomach churns, your ears ring and you’re sure if looks could kill Peter would already be six feet under. “That’s not true.”

“It is, and you know it.” Peter tilts his head condescendingly and you wish you’d pretended to be sick instead of coming to this stupid dinner. “He’s going to find someone new and leave you in the dust. Like clockwork.”

“Stop.” You try not to let his words get to you but he seems to know every single soft spot in your armor. Your worst fears that you’ve never even spoken out loud to James himself. 

“It’s only a matter of time,” Peter continues, swirling his own glass of wine before taking a long sip. “It could be tonight. Maybe one of the wait staff will catch his eye.”

“Listen, Peter,” You break, eyes dialed in on the man sitting across from you. If you can call him a man. More like a rat. “I have always thought you were cruel and disgusting. You invited us to dinner, and I came because James asked me to. But I won’t do this anymore. You’re an absolute weasel of a man and I hate you.”

But Peter doesn’t look upset by your words. In fact, he looks delighted, almost like a happy schoolboy. You realize why when you hear James’ voice behind you, your name stated in a cracking tone full of disbelief and hurt.  

You turn in your chair to look at him, guilt taking over your features. 

“James-” You try to say, the hurt look on his face making your chest physically ache.

“How can you speak to one of my friends like that?” He asks, eyes dark and voice low. He doesn’t sit back down at your table. “I know you don’t like Peter, but calling him names and saying you hate him? That’s cruel.”

You can feel your world crumbling around you, and Peter doesn’t even bother hiding his glee. In fact, it radiates off of him. His girlfriend looks like she’s enjoying the show now, phone in her lap. 

“I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, why you are so hateful and full of anger.” James grabs for his jacket and you reach for it too. He shoots you a look and you pull your hand away, feeling utterly shamed and scolded. You want to tell him that this is all a misunderstanding, that if he heard the things Peter said about him, he would agree with you. 

But you can’t. Because Peter is standing then, too, and so is his girlfriend. James sends you a look, and when he leans down to kiss you he only presses a chaste one to your hair, not one to your lips like usual.

“I’ll call you.” He says. 

And you wonder if he ever will. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[mwahgo]

HOT GIRL AND HER LOSER BOYFRIEND

— RE2! Leon S. Kennedy x Fem! Reader (Resident Evil)

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Nobody believes the new police rookie is dating a famous, hot model.

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 2.2k

: ̗̀➛ Content Tags: TW: Mentions of sexual harassment (if it triggered you, pls scroll), one misogynistic sentence, teasing, fluff, leon being embarrassed, yelling (not from Leon), no outbreak AU

Mwahgo's Notes: Sorry for the constant changes on the style, still trying to find it😭

“Kennedy, you’re 5 minutes late,” Marvin Branagh scolded the young rookie, Leon as he entered inside the Raccoon City police station. The rookie sweatdropped nervously as Marvin sighed before letting him go as Leon sprinted to his desk. A small pile of paper works already sat on his desk as he sighed softly, remembering those were the unfinished felony reports he did yesterday. The atmosphere in the police station is rather usual, the sound of heavy boots walking around the station, the talk between officers about recent cases or the loud ringing of the police cars outside as they patrol the streets of Raccoon City. These sounds are usual for Leon as continues writing down reports when he took a glance on the small frame on the corner of his desk, a picture of his college graduation, Leon smiling and a pretty girl beside him, pulling him down to kiss his cheek. Leon smiled at the memory, graduating with his college sweetheart.

Leon placed his books inside his locker as students walked around the hallways, trying to get to their classes. As he blends in with the students, you walked past by him and it instantly caught his attention, his eyes widening at your beauty as you walked down the halls with confidence. Until you suddenly tripped and fell—well, intentionally tripped and fell as Leon gasped. A group of girls giggled beside you, “That’s what you get for acting like you own the place,” They sneered before walking off.

Leon took the courage to help you up, but you held up your palm before standing up on your own two feet as you dusted off your clothes, “What fucking assholes, they keep picking on me,” You scowled, rolling your eyes.

Leon looked at her with concern, “A-Are you okay?” He asked.

“O-Oh uhh… Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered before pulling out a small mirror from your bag. Leon watched you intently as you observe if your makeup was ruined or smeared but thankfully, you sighed in relief as you placed the mirror back in your bag.

“You said they’ve been picking on you, have you told the professors?” Leon asked as you looked at him, confused.

“Me? Telling the professors?” You scoffed, “I told them multiple times, but they just never gave a fuck. So I just gave up or whatever..” You grumbled as Leon looked at you with sympathy.

“Look, I-I can go and help you. I saw them tripping your foot and insulting you. I can be a witness,” Leon insisted as you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter, as long as I can prove to them I still have my confidence,” You turned to him, smirking, “They can’t stop me,” You said before you walked off. Leon blushed at your confidence as he watched you walking down the hallway to your first class. He never seen such natural confidence from someone before, let alone from someone getting picked on. You didn’t let others step on you—bring you down because you know to yourself that you can’t let them have the upper hand and Leon admires you for that.

You and Leon continue to see each other after your first encounter. You have your circle of friends, he has his own circle of friends—but in the end, you both still hangout and study together, visit each other’s dorms and just talk about random things. Feelings have developed—you both knew, and on a random school dance night, he held your hand as you both dance slowly with the melodic song. You stare at each others eyes as Leon leans down and whispered to your ear, “I want to admit something,”

You giggled at his secrecy, “What is it? That you were the one who burned the egg and triggered the fire alarm?” You joked as he laughed along, but turning back to being serious.

“No, but seriously..” He trailed off, “… I wanna tell you that.. I’ve liked you for a while,” He blushed.

Your eyes widened, mouth ajar at his confession, “I was attracted with… How confident you are, you’re selfless and just…” He trailed off, “.. Absolutely amazing,” He grinned.

Your smile couldn’t go any wider as you leaned up and kissed his lips. He let out a muffled gasp until he melted in your lips. You pulled away, blushing, eyes gleaming with happiness, “I’m glad. I like you too, Leon,” You said.

He gasped softly before his lips breaks into a grin before he kisses your forehead out of happiness as he pulls you in a hug while you both continue to dance slowly, together in each other’s embrace.

After your graduation, you moved to a different state to pursue your modeling career and Leon went to Raccoon City to seek out his path as a police. So far, you and Leon are handling the long distance relationship—you often have late night calls, sending each other letters or visit each other’s state but now, you have been very busy because of your schedules and Leon just handles paperwork, patrol around the city and capture bad guys. His cop life isn’t as hectic as your modeling life but you both get to manage to update one another about your job life.

Leon leaned back on his chair before stretching his arms out, already sore from writing out these reports as he gazed outside, thinking about you. You haven’t been sending him updates about what is happening with you, but he trusts your just handling a lot of stuff. The last update that he got was a letter from you—telling him that you have a photoshoot for a magazine and you were so excited. He smiled at remembering that letter, he can sense the excitement in your writing because this is what you like doing, being pretty in front of the camera and showing off your confidence.

“Hey, Kennedy. You on break?” Someone called as Leon turned to see his colleagues. With all the time reminiscing about your relationship, he didn’t notice it was break time already.

“O-Oh yeah, I’m on break,” He answered as he pushed away his work stuff before pulling out his lunch for today, “Say Leon, you’re quite the good looking guy to be a police,” One of his colleagues commented, “You got a girlfriend?” They asked.

Leon’s eyes sparkled when they asked about his relationship status as he grabbed the framed picture and showed it to them, “Yeah and this is her. It’s our graduation picture together,” He pointed at you in the picture.

His colleagues looked at him like he was crazy, I mean, why is he pointing at you, (Y/N), one of the most well known and hottest model ever? Is he nuts? One of them placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and sighed, “We understand you, Leon. Everyone has their own celebrity crushes,”

Leon furrowed his eyebrows, confused at their comment, “N-No guys, I’m serious. She’s actually my girlfriend, we met at college and we started dating ever since,” He explained.

They snickered, “Yeah whatever, I don’t think a really famous model would date a cop like you,”

One of them glanced at them, “We never know, maybe she likes a private life? That’s why she dated a non-celebrity?” They questioned.

They continue talking about their speculation on you and Leon’s relationship, if it’s really true or maybe Leon is a lying bastard who wants to impress people with his stories. Leon frowned, but he saw it coming, if he proclaimed to the world that he’s dating you, people might give him the side eye and ignore, maybe even hate him for being so delusional.

“What are you all chatting about?” Marvin’s authoritative voice echoed as he walked over to the group.

“Oh hey, sergeant. We’re just talking about Leon’s ‘relationship’ with (Y/N),” They answered, quoting the “relationship”, “Look, he even has a picture with her,” They took the picture frame from Leon’s desk.

“I’m telling you, man it’s real!” Leon snapped.

Marvin took a good look at the picture frame, examining it, “Well, it doesn’t look edited to me,” He answered.

He was met with groans of disappointment, hoping they can drag Marvin in the teasing as well as the doors of the Raccoon City police station busted open and a woman’s yelling echoed inside, “OH! YOU ARE SO DEAD TO ME LAWYER WHEN HE HEARS THIS!”

The group glanced over as a woman in a pink fur coat, shades over her head and her white heels clack on the tiles. She is accompanied with a timid woman holding some papers and a bodyguard—who is dragging a man with his arms around his back. She approached the front desk with sheer determination, “Hello officer, I would like to report for sexual harassment,” She demanded.

Leon’s eyes widened when he saw the girl, it was you, in your cute, pink outfit as you demanded an officer to file a case. The group of officers listened in with your conversation, “What seems to be the case, Ma’am?” The officer at the front desk asked.

“This man over here just did the most vile thing—he grope my secretary’s butt in broad daylight!” You yelled, pointing an finger at him.

The man scoffed, “Fuck you mean, do you even have fucking proof?” He argued as he struggled under the tight hold of your bodyguard.

“Of course I have proof, I WAS RIGHT BESIDE HER!” You screamed, your voiced boomed inside the police station.

The man rolled his eyes, “Whatever, you women think you’re so great, when all you should do is strip naked and let the guys use you!” He taunted, angrily.

You gasped dramatically at the insult as your palm met his cheek, the loud slap echoed in the police station as your secretary held you back, “Ma’am, please don’t make it worse for you here!”

The group of officers realized the situation is getting heated and they stood up from their seats and assess the problem, “Take this man to the interrogation room, so that we can calm down the situation,” Marvin ordered as they take man to a different room.

“You’re lucky she’s holding me back or else I would’ve beat you up!” You yelled, angrily as you hastily fixed your fur coat, “And you on the other hand, why won’t you let me report him? He groped you in the middle of the street where everyone can see,” You scolded your secretary as she looked down to the floor, ashamed.

“Ma’am, we’ll take you to the interrogation room if you can please calm down,” Marvin said

You sighed as you fixed yourself, “I’m fine, just do something about that man. He can’t be let out in the streets,” You demanded as Marvin nodded.

You glanced around and saw a familiar blonde hair and blue eyes as you gasped excitedly, “OH MY GOD! MY BABY!”

Quickly, you ran up to Leon and jumped in his embrace—your legs wrapped around his torso as you littered kisses all over his face, your lipstick imprinting kiss marks on his cheeks, “Hi baby, how are you? I’m so sorry I haven’t been sending you anything, I was just so busy and…” You started ranting about your hectic schedule as Leon looked around and the police officers stood there in shock on how affectionate you are with him.

“Uhm.. Baby, I hate to say this but you’re still in the station,” You looked at him confusedly and realized. Your eyes widened as you got off his embrace and blushed shyly, “I’m so sorry. We haven’t seen each other for a while,”

They all dismissed the situation but they still couldn’t believe it—their rookie cop, Leon is actually dating you, a famous and hot model. You were everyone’s icon for fashion and everyone admire you because of your beauty alone, and yet your here, flirting with Leon.

“Had you have your lunch, baby?” You questioned.

Leon scratched his head, “Well… I had a small lunch but—” as soon as he answered that you cut him off.

“That can’t be! You should be full so that you can work properly!” You exclaimed, “How about we have lunch to that restaurant downtown?” You grinned.

Leon sheepishly blushed, “R-Right now?! But—” You turned away to call your secretary.

“Can you cancel all of my plans for today? I wanna spend some time with my boyfriend,” You ordered.

She looked at you in shock, “Wh-What?! But you have an interview at 2,” She reminded, flipping through the clipboard.

You rolled your eyes, “And? I wanna spend time with my boyfriend instead of some boring interview,” You whined.

She gave you a look before sighing, “You are the boss” she mumbled under her breathe as she started crossing out every plan.

You giggled before dragging Leon by his arm, on the way out of the police station, “This is gonna be so exciting, I miss you so much,” You leaned up to kiss his lips.

Leon chuckled as he kisses you back, “I miss you too,” He grinned as you both walked to the downtown restaurant, finally together in each other’s arms.

[thebestsetter]

"No"

"C'mon dude!" Otoya asked - no, begged Karasu "It won't kill you!"

"I already told you. No." Karasu rolled his eyes "Want it in any other languages? Nein. Não. Non."

"Why?" Otoya huffed, making little clouds on the air from the cold, as Karasu unlocked the door to his mother's house for a so called 'emergency family dinner night' (apparently Otoya was a family member already) "Give me one good reason"

"Well, where to start?" Tabito put his index finger on his chin, like he was thinking deeply about something. Then, he began lifting the fingers from his other hand as he listed "One, you're a cheater. Two, you're my best friend. It's strange. Three, she lives in another country. Four, she's way out of your league, man. I could go on and on if you want me to."

"No, it's fine" Otoya frowned "I'm going to get your sister's number myself."

"And just how are you gonna do that?" Karasu smirked "She lives far away from here. There's no way for you both to communicate with each other. Just accept it, man. You won't ever see my sister again."

"I'm going to find out one day" Otoya said, while Karasu opened his door. "I feel it."

"Sure you do"

Karasu was already used to it, honestly. Ever since Otoya saw you at his birthday party four months ago, he's been pestering Tabito to give him your number.

Apparently, Eita had a "crush" on you, Tabito's sister. Ha, what a joke.

Like Karasu would ever let that happen. You're way too good for Otoya. You guys just can't be together.

And it's not like he's worried, too. You moved out of Japan at 17, when you got a letter to attend to college in Brazil. B-r-a-z-i-l. The other side of the world. It's literally impossible for you and Otoya to basically talk to each other, imagine dating. The thought almost makes Karasu laugh, honestly. It' so ridiculous. It's insanity. It's crazy.

"Hi, Tabito!" He hears his mother say when he oppened the door "Hello Otoya!"

"Hi mom"

"Hey, auntie!" Eita answered, smiling wide and smirking to Karasu while mouthing something very similar to 'I love your mom'.

Gross.

"Let's eat!" Mrs. Karasu smiled, clasping her hands together while making her way to the kitchen "I have a surprise prepared for you, 'Bito!"

"Oh?" Karasu smiled gently "I wonder what it is"

"I sure hope it's that new videogame that came out" Otoya said "I really wanna play it"

"You do know it's gonna be mine, right?"

"Dude, we're bros. We give each other goodnight kisses. I think we can share an expensive videogame"

"We don't kiss each other goodnight"

"Oh, so you agree with the videogame part? Great!" Eita smirked

"I hate you"

"Sure you do"

"So, about your surprise..." Karasu's mother came back from the kitchen. Apparently, the surprise was so big and great that she couldn't wait for dinner to tell everybody "I think I'm gonna tell you now"

"Stop making me curious, mom!" Tabito smiled "Spit it out, already!"

"Okay, okay. But I'm not gonna tell you. I'm gonna show you. Be prepared...

(Name)!"

Huh. That sounded strangely like your name.

And who's that girl that looks exactly like you, Karasu's older sister who Otoya has a big fat crush on?

"Hi, Tabito! You won't believe it: I'm gonna spend a month here in Japan! Isn't it great?"

No.

No way.

No fucking way.

"Oh my God" Tabito muttered, horrified

"Oh my God" Eita said, smirking "Impossible, huh?"

Oh God, please no.

This would be the worst month of Karasu's life. (And the best of Otoya's)

Not my best work but I had a test today, so I kinda have an excuse (no I don't)

[dilf-docs]

"Call It What You Want" Series: Drabbles. In today's episode, Y/n L/n goes on a Chicken Shop Date! ft. Amelia Dimoldenberg

Set: Before the first part of the CIWYW series Warnings: None. Just lousy comedy. I'm sorry Word count: 974 words

"So, I heard a rumor"

You pop a fry into your mouth. "Gotta be more specific with that"

"That you like older men" she replies back in an instant. You almost choke on your fry. Almost. You're quick to recover, taken back still.

"Oh, that" you let out a laugh. "I suppose it's true"

You think back about one of your most liked instagram posts, an old one. A graphic t-shirt with the front spelling I Love Dilfs, a red heart in the middle. Pedro had teased you about it, to which you replied: Are you stalking me?

"Why not older women?" she questions, and your eyes go wide at it. You've never been one to label yourself, especially not online.

"You aren't old, Amelia"

Her character falters a bit at your comeback.

"Did you just called me old?" she jabs. "I can poison your nuggets"

"Well" you reply, "it would be a bit weird that I thought about other people while we're on a date, right?"

She contains a laugh.

"I'd say then, that you have good taste" she bites a nugget. You bite yours. "Can I ask one thing, though?"

"Sure" you lean forward, then look at the camera, pleading, "as long as it's not about my dating life-"

Finding out who you were dating was one of the Internet's favorite topics. It went wild every time a new project of yours dropped, since you seemed to have insane chemistry with your co-stars. This time, the victim was Sam Cafflin, who just happened to star in some horror flick called Bagman. You weren't even together in the movie, but the few promotions you did together were enough for fans to place their imput in your relationship. They always did, yet, so far, no one had been able to guess it right.

And you're lucky, because it's been a while now since you and Pedro were together.

"If you could choose any D.I.L.F to take my place and be on a date with you, right now, who would it be?"

"Rude. I see you insist on me cheating on you on our date"

"I'm curious" she says, her accent shinning. "The Internet loves to pair you up with older men as much as you love to pair up yourself. Have you noticed?"

It's no secret. You're as clear as ambiguous. Everyone knows your preference, but none the fact that you're even married.

"Of course. I love my fans too much" you take a sip of your lemonade. "You could say I am a fan of them"

"Alright, but who you'd pick?" Amelia insists.

"Depends on the season" you chuckle. Your mind instantly goes to your husband. Still, you decide to spice things a bit with your answer. Give the Internet something to say. Give him something to say. Shit stirrer, you hear his voice in your mind. "Right now, it's summer, and Hugh Jackman seems the right answer"

The blonde woman raises her eyebrows.

"He was here just last month" Amelia says. "Should I give him your number?"

"You don't have my number" you deadpan. "Nor his"

Her eyes go wide as she suppresses a smile.

"Say I did. Should I ask yours for him?"

You shrug. "I'm a busy woman. If they want me, they better find me"

She chuckles lightly at that. "Well, thank you for making time for me then"

"Oh, for a pretty girl, anytime. Might like you more than my D.I.L.F.S"

Yet, in your heart, there's only a space and Pedro's carved itself inside it.

"Hugh Jackman, huh?" he muses. "What the fuck is he gonna do for you, hmh?"

You wrap your arms around his neck, moving from side to side in a cheeky manner. He's been bugging you with it ever since you stepped inside the house, and you've been trying so hard for him to drop it, but you knew it was lost case ever since he started spamming your phone once the interview dropped last night.

"Pop those claws out"

"You could have a Roman general yet you chose a mutant freak"

"The Roman general dies. Wolverine is immortal" you argue back.

"You're saying that just because he's trending right now... I want to see if you hold to the same answer when Gladiator II comes out"

"Baby, be honest. Are you jealous?" you tease.

He scoffs. "Of a guy with forks for hands? Please"

"Calm down. No need to fight this war, general" you stand on your tiptoes, his lips brushing yours. "You know I'm all yours"

His grip on your waist tightens, then leans into your ear and whispers, possessively so.

"Damn right you fucking are"

You're enjoying this a bit too much. Not even the Internet had gone that crazy over your interview.

"Hugh Jackman can sing though"

"Aw, c'mon!" you laugh as he slips from your embrace. "That's it, you're sleeping on the couch tonight!"

"No, wait" you chase after him, giggling.

His face is flushed when he looks back at you.

"You know, I Iearned to sign Future Days, for Joel. But now? You get nothing, ungrateful deceiving wifey"

You feign hurt, placing a hand on your chest.

"Is it bad to say another man is hot, or have you gone too woke?"

"You're married. Don't bullshit me"

"Secretly married!" you protest.

"So that allows you to thirst out-loud for other men?" you remain silent. God, he's stubborn. "You've been a real bad girl"

You stop on your tracks. So does he. When you smile, wickedly so, he knows he's done for.

"I can be a good girl if you want"

Sultry voice. Dripping in honey, dropping in tone. Batting eyelashes. Parted glossed-up lips. His cock twitches. He feels like a fool.

Pedro just runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, baby. You're gonna be the death of me"