#Attention Grabbing Jacket Looks For Men

[thomsonsharon347]

Attention-Grabbing Jacket Looks for Men to Flaunt This New Year’s Eve

VISIT:

If you are on the lookout for some great jacket looks to get all the attention this New Year’s

[bi-writes]

I can imagine asking Ghost to take my daughter to the daddy-daughter ball, only not to be able to get rid of him once he brings her home.

"you what?"

you rest your forehead against your locker door, closing your eyes as you tune out the nonchalant voice on the other end of the phone.

he always cancels.

but this?

"y-you can't cancel," you say finally. "you have to go. you can't do this to her, are you fucking kidding me?" you put a hand to your forehead. "you're a fucking asshole. i-i bought her a dress. it's for fathers and daughters, i can't fucking take her. it's all she's been talking about, i can't believe you--!"

you kick your locker shut and take a seat, resting your elbows on your knees. he gives you another excuse, but you just blink away your angry tears.

"no. don't bother. in fact, i don't want to see you again. i don't want her to see you again."

you put the phone down, your hands trembling from how angry you are. you aren't even surprised that he's not calling you back.

he's never wanted her. never.

"sergeant."

the firm sound of your title immediately has you on your feet. you stand up straight, but you relax a little when you see it's just ghost. his head is tilted to the side, and he's watching you carefully from under his mask. you can't see his expression, but his eyes are intense. he's focused on you, very much so.

you wipe the few tears that are under your eyes, and then your phone pinging takes your attention away from him. you pick it up and curse under your breath, opening your locker again to grab your things.

"i'm sorry, lieutenant, i need to go. can i get back to you tomorrow?"

"it's pick-up time, isn't it?"

you freeze from putting your jacket on, eyeing him warily before zipping it up.

"yeah," you say finally. "and i have some bad news to deliver, so while i'd love to stay and chat, i really need to go."

"doesn't hafta be her father," simon shrugs, leaning up against the locker beside yours. "could be anyone."

you glare at him a little, "if you're trying to make some kind of crude joke about the lack of men in our lives, lieutenant, i'd be careful if i were you--"

you stop when he grips your chin tight between his gloved fingers. you blink, unsure of what to do, and he shakes your jaw a little.

"i could take 'er."

you frown up at him, too annoyed to notice how he bends a little more, his face nearly against yours.

"it's not funny, lieutenant."

"not laughin'."

"you..." you meet his eyes, deflating a little. "you...you'd...you'd do that for me?"

ghost merely clicks his tongue before letting you go. when you make your way to your car, he follows, and you try to hide your smile as you make your way home.

ghost exchanges his mask for something more discreet when you aren't looking. a black n95, but his eyes still kill the same. when you come back to the car with a little girl on your hip, she stares wide-eyed at the hunk of man sitting in the passenger seat. he raises a brow at her, saying nothing, and you swallow hard as you buckle her into her seat.

"uhm...this is ghost. can you say hi, honey?"

"ghost? like halloween?"

"like halloween, baby."

as you buckle yourself back in the drivers' seat, you side-eye ghost when you hear the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. when you peek into the rearview to reverse out of the parking lot, you see your daughter with a big smile on her face and a red lolly stuck in her mouth.

"always carrying around sweets, lieutenant?"

he shrugs. "maybe."

she makes him wait in the living room while you get her dress on (she wants a big reveal, coming down the stairs and all). you bought it off of etsy, a custom-made, princess-inspired dress. it has a big skirt of silk and tulle, with a big bow at her back, and when you look at her smile in the mirror, you feel that searing slice of something that makes you want to kill the man that almost ruined her evening.

she gets to do her big reveal. she spins at the top of the stairs to make her big skirt move, and then she's running down the stairs, giggling, laughing, and just as she makes it to ghost, he grabs her under her arms and tosses her into the air. she shrieks with delight when her big dress moves, and you bite your lip watching them. the sight of ghost hiking her up on his hip and commenting on her bow makes your mouth water.

fuck. have his arms always been that big?

they look funny. your daughter looks like the prettiest princess, and ghost looks exactly as he always does--like a SAS lieutenant. he might not have any of his gear on, but the cargo pants, thick boots, and windbreaker don't hide his physique.

"have fun, baby."

you come up next to her, kissing her face, and she clings to your superior, arms tangled around his neck as she waves goodbye. you give ghost the keys to your car, tell him to bring her back by seven, and then you pamper yourself while she's gone.

you drink a few glasses of wine. you take a hot bath. you pick a movie to watch and don't have to make sure the rating is at least PG.

when ghost finally comes back, you're laying on the couch with another glass of wine. pajamas on, blanket over your lap, and you smile when you see her passed out in ghost's arms as he closes the front door behind himself.

"asleep? already?" you giggle. ghost sets your keys down by the door before taking his boots off, and you watch intently as he carries your daughter up the stairs to put her to bed. you follow him, grabbing some of her pajamas from the drawer as he lays her down on the bed. you work together to get her little shoes off and shimmy her out of the dress, and as you get her into her clothes and back under the covers, she barely even moves. she's so tired, yawning and snuggling under her blankets, and you shut the door behind you, leaning against it as you blink up at your lieutenant.

he stares right back down at you. you reach a hand up and trace along the edge of his mask. it's quiet. inappropriate. he won't move away from you, and you won't move either.

you could get used to this. you could get used to watching more adult movies, drinking more wine, having time to fixed your chipped nail polish. you could get used to being bent over your unmade bed and fucked nasty.

you grab onto the crumpled sheets, arching your back more. your knees dig into the mattress as your ass hikes up, and ghost grunts as he uses your hips as an anchor and fucks into you harder. it's been ages since anyone's found your sweet spot, and ghost's cock is nudging it every single time his hips come back to meet yours. his thighs are nearly as fat as his cock, and you feel like your entire body is being rewired as he gives it to you so good, inside and out.

thumb against your clit, balls smacking your pussy, cock splitting you open--you used to think sex was made only for men, but maybe you just never found a real one to show you just how toe-curling it really could be.

if you thought it was good on your tummy, ghost shows you an entirely different feeling on your back.

it's so intimate. no one has ever looked at you this way before. his hands are intertwined with yours, and all you can do is cry and squeeze his hands as he sinks all the way inside of you and barely moves apart. in the dark, he takes his mask off, and you can feel the pant of his hot breaths as he grinds into you deep, slow, purposefully. the stimulation on your clit has your thighs shaking, and when you think the tears are too much, ghost flattens his tongue to lick them off before kissing you wet and languid.

ghost barely pulls out. he just circles his hips, punching back into you, and you see spots behind your eyes when he finally opens his mouth and groans into your ear. something about hearing his voice, hearing him falter, it makes you come. as soon as your cunt squeezes, ghost chokes, gripping your jaw tight and coming deep. you squirm underneath him, arching your back--he fills you up, so much so you can feel it spurting out around his cock and spilling out between your thighs.

you're too tired to protest when he sinks between your thighs after--you have to get clean somehow, right?

when you come into the kitchen in the morning, ghost is at the stove, your daughter on his hip and an egg frying in the pan.

he doesn't leave you when you take him back to work; and he doesn't leave you when you go back home. you should've known better, maybe. it's your own fault. ghosts like to haunt.

and this one is home.

[fakebwitch]

rafe finds your panties in his car [smut, jerking off, perv!rafe]

part two

you had an appointment to get your nails done, rafe was at an important business meeting and couldn't take you, since a friend of his was picking him up his car was in the garage, you asked him if you could use his car, and he said yes.

as you get back you parked the car in the garage, turned off the car while picked up the things you had left scattered around the car, putting them back in the bag, and that's where you had an idea.

you thought, rafe had let you use his car by paying for your new set of nails, you had to somehow thank him. a grin grew on your face as you rose slightly from the seat, your hands went under your skirt finding the elastic band of your panties, you grabbed it pushing it down and once you got to your ankles you pulled them completely off. your grin grew even more as you put the lace panties on the gearshift.

after completing your little work of art, you grabbed your purse and keys, opened the door and got out of the car, locking it. you made your way inside the house, the sound of your heels walking on the floor caught his attention.

"hey baby" he greeted you with a smile, getting up from the couch, "rafeyy" you said immediately running into his arms, he pulled you toward him grabbing you by the hips, 4 hours without seeing him was too much for your liking. "how did it go?" he asked with a smile at your clinginess as his hand gently stroked your back, "all good" you replied pulling away from him slightly with a smile, showing him your nails.

"they're perfect baby" he said as he looked at them carefully, he knew you didn’t play about your nails, "i know, aren't they?" you said with a smile turning your hand toward you, looking back at the design for the twentieth time.

you slipped your hand into your jacket pocket pulling out his car keys, "here they are" you said shaking them in front of his face, he grabbed them as you said "thank you so much baby, i love you" you said giving him a kiss, he smiled into the kiss as he whispered "i love you too".

as he deepened the kiss in your head you couldn't help but think of the little surprise you had left for him in the car, just waiting for him to find out. you knew very well that he loved your lingerie, one way or another he was always trying to steal some panties from you so he could keep them when, as he said, “he needed them," and you also knew what for.

the next morning rafe woke up early, he had to attend another business meeting. it was a stressful week, he was full of commitments regarding work finding himself having little time to spend with you. he grabbed the keys of his car as he yawned while heading to the garage, the phone rang in his pocket causing him to sigh as he rolled his eyes, he took it in his hands reading the name of the contact who was calling him, he sighed again deciding to answer it, it was one of the men he was in business with.

"hey, what's up?" said rafe trying to sound as unbothered as possible, the last thing he wanted to do right now was to have a call regarding the various problems that kept coming up. as the man took up the conversation, explaining that business would slow down for reasons he would list for him later, rafe opened the garage door, letting out occasionals little "mhm."

he pulled out his car keys, pressed the button and without looking inside the car opened the door and sat down. "yes, i was aware of that, i just talked to hollis about it yesterday and we both agreed that..." he froze when out of the corner of his eye he saw something white that caught his attention, he shifted his eyes to the mysterious object.

he took a deep breath realizing it was your underwear.

“rafe? are you still there?" the man's voice rang on the other side of the phone, rafe took a few more seconds to look at the piece of underwear and then answered, "y-yeah i'm here sorry, actually i'm kinda busy right now, i'm gonna call you when i'm free" he quickly came up with, wanting to end the call as soon as possible.

"oka-"

before the man could’ve finished rafe immediately hang up. his hands reached out to grab the garment, his fingers rubbed the lace. he looked at the inner part, that was in contact with your pussy, noticing a small wet spot, he didn't think about it for a second and brought the panty closer to his face, his nose made contact with the fabric, inhaling strongly as your smell flooded his nostrils. you just knew how to drive him crazy.

he couldn't help but think about being between your legs as he continued to breathe in your scent, making you feel good as your hands pushed him closer to your pussy, his cock twitching at the thought of having his lips on your wet folds.

as he kept the panties close to his face, with his free hand he quickly untied his belt, unbuttoned his pants pushing them down just enough along with his underwear to get his now semi-hard cock out. his head thought of your sweet taste, your little whimpers when he overstimulated you too much as your smell intoxicated his brain.

with his right hand he began to lightly rub his length, little sounds escaped his lips, muffled by the fabric of your panties. he went further as with his thumb he stroked the tip, pink and swollen, screaming to be inside you, his hand tightened even more around his shaft quickly rubbing the part just below the tip, it drove him crazy.

he kept rubbing as he imagined his hand was yours, little drops of pre cum were coming out of his tip, mixing with his rapidly working hands, creating obscene wet sounds.

his wrist beginning to ache, from how fast he was moving, as he lingered for a few seconds with his thumb, rubbing the tip. he was a mess of moans, his legs twitching as his breathing grew deeper and deeper, his body temperature now crazy.

he moved your panties away from his face and wrapped them around his cock as he resumed rubbing his hard cock with his hand, continuous whimpers escaped his lips as the lace rubbed against the delicate veins of his cock.

"fuuuuck" he breathed, he didn't think he could hold back much longer. he pushed his hips upward as his hand worked up and down his length, his head turned back as continuous moans mixed with cursing escaped his lips.

"h-holy shiit..." he murmured through clenched teeth, the rough fabric of the lace touching the soft tip of his cock made him shudder, his cock throbbing in his hands, eager to cum as soon as possible.

he was in pure ectasy, totally overwhelmed by the pleasure he was experiencing, the only image in his head at that moment was you, and you were helping him finish himself off. "oh y/n please..." he said almost crying, his voice cracked with pleasure as his hand moved even faster down the length, he hadn't even realized he had begged you when you weren't even there.

as his hand tightened around the tip, images of you filled his head, thinking about the way your eyes looked at him every time he thrust into you mercilessly, the way your tits bounced as his body slammed into yours, as his hand grabbed your neck making your eyes roll as he pushed you to the edge, that image was enough to make his cock cum.

"oh fuck me...." he managed to say as his hand moved slower, riding his high, moans and whining came from his lips as he pressed the tip making sure not a drop of his liquid was wasted.

half of it was on his hands, but most of it had ended up on your panties. he let go his grip on his cock, feeling overstimulated as he tried to catch his breath. realization hit him soon after, realizing the 'obscenity of the act he had just performed.

did he regret it? no. had it been one of the best handjobs? yes.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Defy Her

Toxic Sevika x Reader

Summary: Going out without your girlfriend; she hates when she can’t protect you.

Warnings: Sex: ass slapping/gripping, degradation, choking, hair pulling, strap-on, and crying (r! receiving)

A/N: GUESS WHOS OVULATINGGGGG 😛😛😛 I wrote this in 4 hours cus I had a dream abt it. (Don’t ask)

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Fuck it.

You thought, grabbing your clothes and quickly slipping them on. Black mini skirt with a matching black crop top, your outfit was finished off with a red cropped jacket and a pair of black boots. Hair tied up into a half-up half-down style, you put on your jewelry. Long black necklaces with a few bracelets. Not to forget your dangling earrings, you made sure everything was perfect before grabbing your keys and heading out. You were finally free, able to walk out the door without your girlfriend dragging you back in.

Rule number one: you can’t go out unless Sevika agrees or goes with you.

Bullshit ass rules. They were all made to keep you latched onto your girlfriend, to keep you dependent on her. She didn’t like not being around you to keep everything in-check, make sure no one got too close, and even to prevent you from talking to anyone but her.

Your destination was The Last Drop, where Sevika, you hoped, wouldn’t be. She was probably doing some work for Silco, maybe even with Jinx trying to keep her out of trouble. Either way, you weren’t having her shit anymore. So, with a confident push on the doors, you enter the bar. You were immediately met with a crowd of people who were dancing, drinking, making out, and, most importantly, having fun.

Making your way to the bar to grab a few drinks, you looked around to find you being stared at. Up and down, either checking you out or judging you.

You decided to ignore them and sat on a stool, ordered yourself a sweet treat, and tried to forget about Sevika; for now. You ordered lemonade, getting drunk wasn’t on your list. The place was dimly lit with the telbum lights brightened it up with colourful lights. The speaker blasted upbeat music, causing everyone to dance, you silently admired the way the crowd was able to be carefree and loose. As excited you were to have some freedom, your main concern was if Sevika would find you and drag you home. Maybe yell at you or something.

Something would be fucking you senseless.

Though it wasn’t a bad idea, it sure scared you to see her angry. Ripping you open and making sure you were twitching after the first few rounds.

Sipping on your drink, you turn your attention to the man who was now shifting to sit beside you. He looked friendly enough, even though he was staring you down with those black eyes of his.

“Saw you come in, wanna dance?” His voice smooth even though it held a hint of nervousness. Hale leaned closer to you with his drunken breath. For a second you considered his invitation, dancing would be nice. But with a stranger?— who was probably just trying to get in your pants?. It felt like going behind Sevika’s back.

“I uhm.. I’m alright..” Forcing a smile, you turn your head to your drink. Your answer was simple and sweet, you hoped he’d take it and leave. At the corner of your eye, you saw him scoff. “C’mon, it’s just dancing?”

Was he fuckin’ stupid? “I said I’m good.” Was your response. You’d learned that from Sevika. Thankfully, you he fucked off. With a grumble under his breath, he walked away with heavy steps. You, yourself, grumble to yourself in annoyance before taking a few big sips and finishing your drink. Could a gal really not enjoy one night alone?

Maybe the night would be more enjoyable with Sevika. Having her glare away any men, letting you dance as you pleased? It was a nice thought. Even if she’d hover and fuss over a simple glance, you secretly wanted her to be there now.

May the universe heard your wish because as you were about to get up, you felt a tug around your waist before you were pulled against someone. “The hell are you doing here?” The familiar gruffed out words hit your ears and you realized it was your girlfriend. Her flesh arm around your waist, she tightened her grip which let you know she was upset. Maybe even pissed. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to come here alone? You deaf or something?” Sevika would groan out, her voice raising and tense. “I can handle myself, I don’t need you all the time.”

You guessed she didn’t like that answer because as her prosthetic arm hit the wooden counter with a fist she scoffed. “Don’t fuck around with me. God knows how many assholes are waiting to push a stick up your ass.” With that, she turned you around and gripped your wrist. “We’re goin’ home. End of discussion.” You clearly couldn’t say no to that, to her authoritative tone. She’d drag you home whether you liked it or not, pull you over her shoulder with her muscular arms and force you with her. Mumbling under your breath, you let her lead you away towards the exit.

An hour of freedom was all you got.

Reaching your shared apartment, Sevika locked the door behind you with a slam. Her expression irritated, she didn’t let go of your wrist. “I don’t even get to do anything. I barely go out by myself.” — “For a god damn reason.” She shot back, towering over you and making you have to look up. “I saw the way those ‘fuckers looked at you, as if you were some piece of meat.” Of course she noticed, that’s all she did. Look around and force everyone to look away. “I can’t help that? You were looking at me the same way when we started dating!” Raising your voice was a bad idea, the way Sevika’s grey eyes glared at you made you quickly fix yourself. “You’re mine. Got that? I do what the hell I want with you, no one else.” Tugging on your wrist she pulled you closer and gripped onto your hair with her mech hand. “Even lookin’ at you is a privilege.” Gasping at the tug on your hair, you let slip a shaky moan.

Her voice was low, dangerously quiet, as she leaned down to crash her lips against yours. Sucking on your bottom lip, Sevika bit down until you were sure they were bleed. Tilting your head back with her grip from your hair, her flesh arm came around to grip your ass and pull your body flush against her tense one.

If Sevika couldn’t keep everyone away from you, she would just have to keep you locked up and all to herself.

Soft whimpers left your lips as she kissed you deeply, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Tasting you, she found it satisfying to see you breathless and, already, vulnerable . Pulling back to see your red cheeks, she took hold of your face, squishing your cheeks together, and smirked with cockiness. “Fuckin’ whore.” Was all Sevika said before raising you and carrying you towards the bedroom. Her muscular arms then threw you— yes, threw you— onto the bed. Grunting, you give her furrowing brows. “Quit doing that, what if I hit my head?” Sevika only chuckled as she grabbed her strap. It was the largest one she had, one you could barely take halfway.

Approaching you, she tossed it beside you before ripping your clothes off. “Surprised you care more about bumpin’ your head on a wall than me ruining that hole of yours.” Voice unserious as she had you bare and on your back. “You couldn’t give a damn about the way I stretch-out your cunt. Want it so ruined I need a bigger one’a these.” Motioning to the strap, she crawled onto the bed and sitting infront of you and pulled you by your wrists. She turned you around to positionyour back to her front and your ass to her strap. Face burried your freshly done hair, she took a deep inhale. Both of you were on your knees with heavy breaths. You knew where this was headed.

With her flesh hand on your clit, she rubbed it to get the desired reaction. She succeeded when you couldn’t help but softly sigh at the teasing motion. One finger was enough to cover your bud, that’s just how big her hand was. And she took advantage of it every single time. With a bite on the back of your shoulder, she pushed her cock inside and kept it there for a good second. It was the first time she’d went all in. It left you to gasp and whimper. “Since I haven’t made myself direct with what I want, let me show you.” You braced yourself as you held your breath, heart pounding in your chest as she pinched your clit. A soft “fuck..” left your lips. “Don’t.” A hard pound hit your cunt. “Go.” Another hard pound hit with a grunt. “Out. The third pound went deeper than the first two. “Without.” You were still adjusting to the thickness when the blow hit, it caused a shaky moan to escape your lips.. “Permission.” With the last pound, she grasped onto your neck and squeezed enough to where it was hard to breathe. You could feel the pressure as your face went warm, you were red. “Got that, you dirty whore?”

Slamming into you, she went all the way in and made sure you were feeling all of it. Head tilted back with the help of Sevika’s grip, your back arched into her cock as she rubbed it against your walls. She was enjoying this, punishing you for being stubborn enough to go against her rules. “Look at you, already a slutty mess.” She was taking her anger out on you, “Tell me how much you want this cock. And don’t cum ‘til I fuckin’ tell you.” The sound of her strap making contact with your cunt was all that you could hear, all that could focus on. Phwap Phwap Phwap. You were fucking loving this.

“Sev, Baby..” You said shakily, “Don’t stop— fuckkkk, please.. it’s too good..” Your voice was strained from the grip around your neck, even moaning was difficult. “I.. I’m close.. it’s too much— it’s too fucking good.” Practically pleading your words out, you kept still for your girlfriend as she pushed into you. “Already? Can’t even last a few minutes.” Tugging at your hair and letting go of your neck, she pushed your face into the sheets and gave you the ‘back-shots’ you deserved. Head tilted to the side, you could barely handle her. “Sevika— baby, I.. I want you— holy—make me cum…” Words a breathy moan, you groan out at every sensation that rose from your drenched pussy. Sevika’s flesh hand came to play with your pulsing clit, pinching and rubbing it like some toy. “Yeah?.. you want me, baby? You want me like the little slut y’are?” Hips rolling deep blows into your cunt, you were holding on for life. Hands gripping the sheets in order to ground yourself as you bit onto your lip, causing them to swell up.

Sevika fucked you like a sex toy, never slowing her pace and hitting all the juicy spots that got you crying out. Tears ran down your mascara smeared cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. Your girlfriend didn’t seem to care over your sobbing, because she only grew rougher. Evident in the way she slapped your ass multiple times with her heavy hands and left behind red handprints. You whined everytime. “Hope you’ve got your shit together, ‘cause you were a dumbass for going to that shitty bar without me.” Legs twitching, your voice was beginning to strain from all the moaning you were doing. All the humms and whimpers were getting to you. “I’m close.. please— please I need you..” You’d breath out, shutting your eyes and letting every sensation soak in. “I’ll.. I’ll listen— please, baby I won’t.. won’t go out. Alright?” You were desperate for the orgasm pooling in your core, which needed to escape. Even your voice was cracking, from, both, moaning so much and and crying. “Let me cum, I.. I can’t hold it in..” Sevika, as usual, was memorizing ever moan, ever twitch, and every reaction that you gave. The slight tremble in your hands, the quiet whimpers you let out at every touch, and the heavy breathing. She loved it all.

“Cum for me, baby.” Was your girlfriend’s ‘yes’. And cum you did. Closing your legs you fell onto your chest and cried out at the intensity of the pressure your body was releasing. Hips writhing, legs shaking , and body heating up, your face was burried into cool sheets as you whimpered from the aftermath. “I just fucked the prettiest slut in Zaun.” Sevika proudly gruffed out, slapping your ass as she lowered herself. Knees on either side of the back of your thigh she brushed your soft hair aside before pressing hot kisses on your back, her strap rubbing against your back as she did so. Coming back from your orgasm, you collect your breath. “So.. you know other.. pretty sluts?” You murmured, eyes fluttering with the softness of her lips. Sevika only chuckled with amusement. “No, I don’t. Even if I did, you’d be the only slut I’d wanna see like this.” Her words a heartfelt scoff as she rubbed soothing circles on your back with her big palms.

“I’m still mad at you.” Sevika brought up, lips grazing the back of your neck before she bit down and claimed you. “I know..”— “Don’t do that shit again. Next time I won’t fuck you like this.” You knew what that meant.

Before, when the two of you started dating, she’d often ignore you, make you feel like shit, everytime you disobeyed her. But, luckily, communication helped and she stopped. But, would she really do it again? Start ignoring you?

“Don’t..” You whispered out, opening your heavy eyes as Sevika bit around your body. Shoulder, neck, arms, she wanted to mark you everywhere. You could only hold your breath when she did so, giving her the chance to do whatever she needed. “I don’t want you to ignore me..” And maybe your words sounded too.. sombre because, afterwards, Sevika pulled back and cleared your face from any strands of your disheveled hair and met your eyes. Her gaze stared into yours as she ran her hand over your flushed cheek and wiped off your smeared mascara. “You already told me not to.” Tone softened, she shifted to kiss your reddened lips. “I listen, unlike your stubborn ass.” You scoff at her response, “I do listen! You just make it hard to.”

With your sassy response, she laid down beside you and took off her strap. Throwing it somewhere onto the floor bedroom her mech arm came to wrap around your body. With another press on your lips, that you reciprocated with, she smirked out a soft…

“I’m pretty confident whatever I say is right.”— “Yeah, sure.” You shot back, grinning at her silent forgiveness.

[robynlilyblack]

But you’re over here

Fred Weasley x fem! shy! Potter! Reader

Summary: During the final game of the season, a certain redhead couldn’t care less about the trophy

Warnings/tags: swearing, friends to lovers, first kiss, getting together, mutual pining, Hufflepuff reader, potter reader, James being a good dad, Cedric being the best wing and hype man, Jess, Timothy and Joey OCs, marauders being parents

A/n: 4.4k words, ngl the alchemy plays in my head during this kiss scene, apologies for any mistakes I'm a bit ill right now, as always reader can be the bio or adopted older daughter of James and Lily, based on this and this requests ♡

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

“Oh boy, oh boy!” James claps his hands, rubbing them together in excitement as he, Lily, Remus, and Sirius reach the top of the stands 

Lily giggles at her husband's enthusiasm, following him to the front row, while Remus and Sirius brace themselves at the top, catching their breaths after a quite frankly atrocious number of stairs

Today was the big game, not only was it the old rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but it was the final, and the first year Harry was serving as captain after Oliver passed the torch to him two years ago. It was safe to say as fun as the Triwizard tournament was the previous year, quidditch was still the marauders and co’s favourite pastime. Hell, the whole school was buzzing

“Were they always that high?” Sirius whispers, rubbing his chest “Fuck me” he breathes heavily

“I think we’re just old now my love” Remus chuckles, after all these years he still can’t help but wind up his husband just a little bit

Sirius makes a face “Fuck you! I’m not old…you’re old!” he childishly argues, wearing a grumpy pout that twitches everyone once and again, revealing the smile beneath

“And when is your birthday?” 

Sirius’ mouth opens to reply but alas the man has nothing and is caught looking like a fish, though he’s a very cute fish in Remus’ mind

“We might be old…but you’re still as pretty as you were last time we were up here” Remus compliments, leaning down to peck Sirius’ tinting cheeks “Pretty boy” he whispers one last blow before pushing off the beam and joining his friends leaving Sirius flustered 

“Pads? You comin?” James calls out, head shooting over “Ohhhh” James barks a knowing laugh, whispering something to Remus and patting his back as he sits down

Sirius can’t help but let out a small smile as they turn away “He thinks I’m pretty” he mutters all giddy to himself before joining his friends, taking a seat between Remus and James, with Lily on James’ other side

“See! I told you we were smart coming early, it’s already beginning to fill up” Lily points out, smiling to herself as she shrugs off her jacket, grabbing the others as well, before laying them on the seats behind them to save room for when the McKinnon’s made their fashionably late appearance

James smiles, hand finding the top of Lily's head “That we were, hun” he agrees, patting her head and soaking up her proud little smile as she smooths out the rest of the coats

“Who are you looking for?” Remus asks, pulling James’ attention back to find Sirius squinting off into the distance

“Our goddaughter, I haven’t seen her in ages” Sirius pouts, squinting harder

“You saw her at Easter break” James chuckles 

“Oh yeah” Sirius nods, remembering “Still, I miss her” he confesses, warming the men's hearts

Sirius and Remus decided against children, not that they didn’t want them per se, more they couldn’t confirm the child's safety with Remus’ furry little problem. As such, they filled that hole with you and Harry. Sirius took an extra shine to you though, maybe it was your shy yet cheeky nature that reminded him of Remus, or maybe it’s the little bit of himself he saw in you, watching you get sorted into Hufflepuff when everyone else in your big, wonderfully weird family was Gryffindor. Whatever it was, though today was Harry’s day, he still had to make sure you were alright

“Do you want your glasses?” Remus offers, sighing as he watches his husbands sorry display and reaches for his bag

Sirius swats his hand away “I don’t need glasses moony, I’m fine. It’s just the wind, it’s blowing stuff in my eyes” he gestures around his face, scrunching his nose before attempting to subtly squint again

Remus’ eyes meet James’, shaking his head as he mouths ‘why can’t he admit defeat?’

James smirks, shrugging as he turns away, now interested in where you were, as is Lily after overhearing the debacle. The four searched for you as the student body make their way to the stands. Glancing around Remus’ spots a wild Weasley, smiling as he watches Ron attempt to hold back his blushes as Hermione fixes the red paint on his cheeks. Lily spots Neville, Ginny and Luna in another stand wearing their handmade lion mains. Sirius spots well…nothing, but your father on the other hand is the one to finally find you. 

He watches as you enter the stand diagonal to them with Cedric, Jess and two other boys he doesn’t quite recognise but based on their green scarfs must be Timothy and Joey, which would be two out of the four very few Slytherins in this world he accepted were good, the others being his best friends’ brother and the one and only Dorcas Meadows

“Found her” he points with joy “There she is, ain’t our little fawn beautiful” he shines, causing all their eyes to fall on you as you all worm your way to the front of your own stand

“It’s funny seeing them in red and gold” Remus notes, an amused look as he observes yours, Cedric, and Jess’s Gryffindor scarves, most likely stolen from your brother and his friends…or perhaps secretly gifted from one particular Weasley

Lily nods, but her head tilts to the side as your head taps the taller of the other boy's shoulders “They seem close, which one is he again, Tim or Joe?” she ponders trying to remember

“Tim, she said he was tall in the letters” James confirms “They aren’t together” he says with confidence

“And how would you know that Captain Oblivious?” Remus’ laughs, eyeing his friend but then his gaze drifts to peak at his husband, who's been unusually quiet, realising he’s still very much struggling to see you

Remus slowly collects the glasses from his bag again and holds them up in offering

“Dammit” Sirius sighs accepting the truth and putting them on, looking grumpy until his eyes widen, like he’s seeing a brand-new world

“Better love?” Remus teases while pointing you out again

“Shut up moo…aww there she is, beautiful as ever” he adjusts them smiling “Wait…whoa” he looks at James doing a double take as everything is now in high definition “You’ve aged so well” he notes

James’ smirks “Why thank you, I steal Lily’s muggles products” he admits unapologetically, not that it’s much of a surprise to the girl next to him who just rolls her eyes, accepting the fact she now buys two of every product just for him

“It’s the one with lighter hair, not Cedric, the taller one” Remus points out to Sirius

“Oh…” Sirius eyes the boy, judging “...nah”

“What do you mean nah?” everyone jumps a little at first turning around to see Marlene, Dorcas and the cutest little lion there had ever been joining them “Holy shi… sugar those specks are something” Marlene laughs, catching herself before glancing at her wife, mouthing an apology while their daughter looks up at them confused

“Suu’gar” the little cub repeats before pointing at Sirius “Specky!” she says excitedly “Unkie Jams t‘win” she claps, pointing between James and Sirius before jumping and clapping again all happy with herself

Sirius’ quickly pulls the glasses off, cheeks heating while the others struggle to hold in their giggles 

“I don’t need them” he looks straight at Marlene, trying his best to be convincing

She just gives him a ‘really’ look in return before smiling softly 

Sirius half chuckles, half sighs as he admits defeat, flashing the women a genuine smile “It’s good to see you Marls, you too Dorca darlin” he then looks down at little Lacy “Hello little cub” he coos 

“Rwah!” Lacy holds up her hands in a claw motion, doing her best lion impression 

It was well known the Marauders had one brain cell between them, but when that cell fired it was magical, all including her mothers and godmother pretended she was the most fearsome thing they’d ever beheld, even a couple other parents who had taken seats little ways down joined in. After some pleas and chocolate offered to calm the beast, the group settled in again, catching up as they waited for the game to start.

You rocked on your feet, eyes continually flicking to the players entrance in anticipation

“You good sunshine?” you feel a soft pat to the top of your head, looking up you’re greeted with Timothy's soft smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he checked in, worried the ruckus and busyness of the stand was a bit overwhelming for you

You gently tap your head into his shoulder, nodding “I’m good…just excited” you confess with warm cheeks as your nose is flooded with the scent of your scarf again

“Ahhhh” he elongates, giving you and then the scarf a look “Y/n and Freddie sitting in a tree” he whisper sings

Your eyes widen before you attempt a scowl that looks more like a puppy pouting “Shut up” you chide, fixing the scarf a little before looking away, hoping Cedric, Jess and Joey were having a more in depth conversion but instead you find them grinning “Sugar” you press your lips into a downturned smile

They all looked at each other before singing in unison 

“K…i…s…s…i…n…g!” 

Despite your cheeks positively flaming around the second ‘s’, you can help but break into a smile. Your friends knew about your little crush on the Weasley boy from afar. Despite your brother’s closeness with the family you didn’t have such ties, you adored Ginny on the few occasions she had visited, along with Ron and Hermione, but as for the rest of the clan your paths rarely crossed. You were meant to spend the summer with them as your families decided to holiday together, but when Cedric won the Triwizard tournament that changed, and instead, he took you and your friends traveling with the prize money 

Yours paths finally crossed at the beginning of the school year, when Sprout created a seating pattern allowing everyone to get familiar with their randomised Herbology partner before the end of year assignment. You were nervous at first, as you were sure the professor was when she pulled out your names. Putting the quietest person in Hogwarts with the loudest person seemed like it would either be the worst pairing she had ever seen or the most genius 

To her good fortune…and ego, it was the latter. It was surprising to see the king of mischief actually try with his assignments, but most chalked it up to the fact that while you were quiet, you were well-loved by your year, you held no prejudices, helped people with their assignments when the asked you, and was just in general sweet to everyone, to the point even the meanest Slytherins were a little soft on you. Therefore, most assumed Fred couldn’t bear to let you down either, and while that was true at first, a second reason soon bloomed for the boy

It bloomed for you as well, you slowly opened up to him each class, topics drifting to something deeper, and by the time Christmas rolled around you both were close friends. So close in fact you began inviting him to your friend’s secret hideaway by black lake, at first to study, but then to hang out both with and without your other friends. It was funny at first, with Cedric and Jess being rivals in quidditch and Timothy and Joey's Slytherin status, but Fred warmed to them, gaining their trust and, not that they told either of you, their blessing 

“I hate you all” you pout, falling into Cedric’s side hug as you shake your head

“Nah” Timothy joins from the other side

“You love us” Jess chimes in, beaming at you

“Not as much as she loves him though” Joey adds cheekily, nodding towards the pitch, it seems none of you had noticed the crowds stir for the players appearances during your teasing session

Cedric and Timothy quickly retract their grasp, smiling at one another as you lunge adorably forward to see. Your friends soon join you, all cheering, while you find Fred in the small mass of people, admiring him as he laughs with the others. After a few moments, the team is finished talking, beginning to take flight and get into position. Once there, you watch as Fred’s eyes begin to scan the crowd, heart thumping as his gaze slowly draws closer, skipping a beat when they fall on you, and damn near stopping as he doubles back, face lifting 

You see, a few weeks ago you had met Fred to check over your final herbology assignment, which meant a late-night picnic waiting to see if your flower would bloom under the full moon. While chatting, the topic of today's game came up. Of course, now that Hufflepuff were out for the count, he teased you with who you would be supporting, his teasing backfired however when, without missing a beat, said you would be supporting whatever team he was playing in. 

After his slight fluster, which, to this day is one of your proudest achievements, conversation returned to normal, you figured he’s forgotten about it until a first year found you this morning holding a small bundle of Gryffindor scarves, one of which had a red ribbon around it with a note for you

You bring your hands up, hugging the scarf as your eyes meet, causing the biggest smile to take over his face. It was times like this you truly believed your crush was requited, and little did you know a certain redhead was thinking the same thing

“Be brave and go for it” Cedric whispers some encouragement 

He’s right, you think, Now or never

As you mouth him ‘Good luck’, you add a little extra to it, blowing him a kiss

His eyes widen in a pleasant shock, melting into a mix of joy and pride as he pretends to catch it, winking at you before kissing his balled up fist before returning his gaze to the field just before the starting whistle blows

“Way to go gal” Jess cheers, reaching over to give your arm a soft squeeze

“Aww the grew up so fast don’t they” Timothy wipes an imaginary tear from his eye while Cedric and Jess both match his energy, taking out handkerchiefs and pretending to be forlorn mothers, with Joey doing the same but with an imaginary tissue

You giggle at them, and while you would usually try to come up with some sort of witty answer, you instead break into a smile “He likes me” you say simply, swaying side to side

“If he didn’t, he’d be an idiot love” Cedric gives you a side hug while the rest of your friends’ smile, happy for you “Now let’s what your man kick snake butt”

“Hey-” Joey and Tim begin to object together but then shrug 

“Oh, who are we kiddin” Timothy laughs, taking off his green scarf and pulling out a red and gold one as does Joey “Pusey’s an arsehole and I want a chance to be a bridesman at your wedding someday”

“Bridesman?” you giggle, heartwarming at the idea of you and Fred getting married someday

“Yip, Ceds already called man of honour” 

The match was a whirlwind of emotion, the kind of game that left everyone on the edge of their seats. Gryffindor and Slytherin were neck and neck at every turn, every goal answered by another, and it was clear to everyone that this match would come down who would catch the snitch first

“Holy shit, this is intense!” James exclaims, practically bouncing in his seat “Merlin, how the hell did you guys watch me and Marls do this back in the day?”

“Jamie…language!” Lily scolds with a giggle, lips quirking up in amusement as she gives Dorcas a please forgive us look

“Oh, don’t worry, Lacey can’t hear a thing thanks to these” Dorcas it waves off, gesturing to Lacey’s adorable, enchanted earmuffs “Watch this” she says leaning over the little girl perched on her lap “You want some ice cream, bubs? What about a unicorn?” 

Lacey doesn’t react at all, instead she stays focused on mimicking her other mothers’ gestures and waves towards the pitch

“Those are…” Lily starts but is promptly cut off 

“What the hell was that!” Marlene huffs, throwing up her hands as the crowds roar once more, a mix of cheers and groans as the Slytherins risky manoeuvre pays off leading to another goal “Fucking Pusey again!”

“Did you get the earmuffs for the crowd or for Marls?” Remus whispers to Dorcas, who struggles to hold back a smile

“Oi! Gingers! Stay in formation! Godric, what are you doing?!” Marlene shouts again, shaking her head as Fred and George narrowly avoid colliding whilst going for the same bludger

“No comment” Dorcas replies with a grin before planting a kiss on Lacey’s cheek

The match grows increasingly heated after Harry lets the snitch slip through his grasp, igniting a fire under Slytherins asses causing their play to get even more aggressive

“This game is insane!” Cedric grips the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white

“Come on, Freddie!” you yell, unable to stop yourself as he whizzes by

You watch him turn ever so slightly, catching your voice over the roar before he dives back into the action, pulling off a spectacular move that has more than one person flushing

“Offt…your man’s a beast” Timothy mutters as Fred swoops in to deflect a bludger, shirt riding up a little as he does “What? I can admire” his cheeks tint as he sees all of your raised eyebrows

“Don’t worry” you say with a laugh, “He’ll never admit it, but he has a little guy crush on you too”

“Really?” 

“Really” you confirm, giggling 

“Did you see that?!” Sirius exclaims, pointing towards Fred after he executes a spectacular mid-air spin to block the Bludger aimed at Angelina “Can’t deny the boys got style!”

“Sure does” James agrees but then his expression sinks to a smug one as he adjusts his glasses “Almost as cool as some of the moves we pulled off ay Marls?” he tries to get her attention but is gifted a passive ‘uh huh’ instead

“Oh, please” Remus argues, chuckling “Are we forgetting in our final year when you tried to do a spin like that and your glasses came flying clean off?”

“What?!” Lily, Sirius, and Dorcas all turned to him in unison

“Moony!” James protests before his face slowly sinks as if awaiting his impending doom

“Wait…” Marlene turns slowly, looking menacingly down at James “You’re telling me. I almost lost my final match as captain because of your speckyless ass?”

James hesitates, his ears turning near crimson as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck “…no comment”

With one final push, the final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You and your friends join in, your eyes look over towards Fred, who’s the first to get to Harry, pulling him into the biggest bear hug. The sight makes your heart warm, but your admiration is cut short as your friends practically pick you up, ushering you to move 

“What’s happening” you ask confused

“Come on, we gotta get down their sunshine” Timothy insists, shooing you along with Cedric, Jess and Joey “You’ve got a ginger to congratulate”

Over on the other stands your family celebrates. Everyone’s on their feet, except Lacey who is now glued to Marlene’s hip as they cheer 

“Yesssss!” James roars, pulling Lily into a celebratory hug…and subsequent snog 

“That’s my godson!” Sirius bellows, fist pumping the air before looking to hug James then realises “Oh…well if that’s what we’re doing, come here moons!” he hithers towards Remus, arms outstretched 

Remus laughs softly before indulging his husband, pulling him in for a kiss before dramatically dipping him

Meanwhile Marlene and little Lacey remain oblivious to the romance in the air, as she was too busy yelling so hard her voice will be lost come tomorrow “THAT’S MY LIONS!”

Dorcas just chuckles at the scene, pulling out Lilys camera and snapping a shot of them all (A/n: art of this bit in the future?)

As their celebrations calm down, they notice the teams beginning to land and everyone else begin to make their way down to join them

“This takes me back” Remus lets out a small laugh watching the red and gold scarfs fly around

Nostalgia fills the air as the others join him, gazing down

“Man…that used to be us” James remarks, letting out a breathy laugh before glancing over at Marlene

She nods, a happy yet bittersweet smile on her face “Yeah…good times” she reminisces before looking down at Lacey “Times are still pretty good…maybe better” she confesses watching her little cub cheer 

Dorcas joins her side, arm wrapping around both Marlene and Lacy as their foreheads meet

“I think we should give them their moment” Lily suggests “We have time to embarrass them later” she giggles

The group hums in agreement. As their stand empties, they begin pointing out things only they are privy to from their vantage point. Like Nevilles and Lunas intertwined hands as they weave through the crowd with Ginny, Lee sprinting to hug George, the Slytherin team sulks, or even Snape begrudgingly handing a couple of gallons to McGonagall. None of them, however, have managed to spot you or your friends yet. 

“I hope y/ns alright in the crowds” James says softly next to Lily

“As long as she’s with her friends I have no doubt shell be alright” she hums, giving your fathers arm a squeeze 

“Oh, there she is…” Sirius points you out before chuckling to himself “…maybe being your twin ain’t so bad” he jokes, wiggling his glasses 

James laughs, wrapping an arm around Sirius as everyone turns their attention back towards you 

Down on the pitch, it’s a flurry of red and gold, so you hold back at the edge where it was quieter, encouraging your friends to head into the chaos and enjoy it. Jess, Joey and Timothy promise to be right back, while Cedric spots Cho in the crowd little ways from yourself and joins her, being careful not to drift too far from you

You beam as you take a couple of steps back, watching Harry get lifted up by Ron and Neville. Much like your parents and family above, you want Harry and Fred to have their moment in the spotlight. There would be more than enough time to talk to them after

Unbeknownst to you, one of that duo was already looking for you. Fred’s eyes scan the chaos for your figure, but finds a familiar blonde in the crowd first, and he smiles watching him kiss Cho’s cheek. Cedric feels the eyes on them, looking up and noticing Fred’s searching expression. He smiles, giving a knowing nod towards you, as does Cho who’s clearly been filled in on the situation. 

Fred’s eyes follow the direction and there you are, standing apart from the rest, your gaze locked on Harry. Taking a deep breath, he hypes himself up, realising in that moment you aren’t just wearing his scarf, but the jumper he gave you to keep warm a few weeks ago as well. That along with the kiss you blew him earlier, are all the signs he needed to finally make a move

“Oi, Freddie” George calls as he moves away from the rest of the team “Where ya going?” George tries again but to no avail, Fred’s already gone, pushing through the crowd, using his broom to help manage the masses

As he breaks free, you do a double take, and he finds himself smiling as your confused expression melts into hope and joy

“You’re supposed to be over there” you tell him, taking a few steps forward as he closes the gap

“But you’re over here” he replies simply before leaning closer, eyes searching yours for permission 

You bite your lip, giving him a nod, to which his own smile grows and his broom is abandoned as his larger hands come up to cradle your cheeks guiding them up towards his lips as they crash into your own. You clutch the front of his sweater, pulling him closer but Fred being the showman he is had other ideas. His hands drop down, snaking around your hips before he dips you back. You squeal at first, then laugh softly with him before your lips reconnect. After that the rest of the world fades away. The cheers and buzz around you becoming a distant hum, neither of you reacting to your friends’ cheers nor the flash of Jess’ camera 

Your friends aren’t the only spectators of course…

“Wait…” Marlene points towards you and Fred “…is he about to…oh!” her mouth drops open, gently covering Lacey’s eyes while Dorcas smiles in a happy shock beside her 

Remus, Sirius, Lily are next to react, eyes widening, before breaking into smiles. Remus and Sirius take a moment longer, clearly doing the ‘does he deserve her’ math in their heads first

“That’s my girl” Lilys hands come up to face, overjoyed, she had an inkling you were a little love struck from your letters, she just didn’t know with who until now

“He’s alright” Sirius begrudgingly admits while Remus nods in agreement

Their smiles and shock soon melt into anticipation as they all slowly turn towards James, who had been a bit too quiet considering the situation. But when they see him, he is…beaming?

Turns out Lily wasn’t the only one with an incline, in fact, James being the girl dad he was, has known about every crush you’ve ever had, your one on Fred being no different. Safe to say, he was ecstatic

“Yes!” he cheers “Oh the dips a nice touch, very classy” he nods in approval before looking over at the others “What?” he takes in their shocked faces

“Prongs?” Remus eyes him “You realise that’s y/n, right?” he feels the need to check

“Yeah” James shrugs before his mouth makes an ‘oh’ shape, his reply sending them into fits of laughter “I’m supposed to be mad right now, aren’t I?”

Thank you for reading ♡

[shushmal]

Steve bites back a sigh when he sees a hand waving just out of the corner of his eye, trying to grab his attention from where Steve's gazing pitifully at his drink. The club is loud, music blasting, and maybe it's a little pathetic for Steve to be at his place of work on his day off, but Robin's behind the bar and he gets free drinks. Unfortunately, the kind of guys who frequent his workplace are usually the opposite of Steve's type.

So, he's prepared, for when he looks up, to gently let down whatever club boy who's decided to shoot their shot with him tonight. They all start to look the same to him: bleached hair, glitter, crop tops and low riding pants. Men who are too much like Steve to be what Steve's looking for.

When he looks up, however, his eyes go a little wide and his lips part from around the straw against his tongue.

"Hi!" yells the guy, long hair, long legs, long fingers. He's wearing way too much leather and denim for this place, and he must be boiling under that jacket. "W-would you like to dance?"

Steve takes a longer moment to take him in: his shoulders hunched up around his ears, fingers twisting his hair nervously, eyes big and brown and beautiful.

Straightening from where he's been hiding against the wall, Steve steps up into the guy's space, watches his eyes go bigger and his face go pink. He's perfect.

"I'm Steve," he says, leaning in so he can be heard over the music. "And you don't look like the kind of guy who dances."

"Oh, I'm not," the guy says, eyes flicking around Steve's face, dropping to Steve's chest, to his thighs and back up again. "Um, sorry. I'm Eddie."

Steve grins. "Nice to meet you, Eddie."

Eddie's mouth quirks up, an giddy, boyish smile. "P-pleasure's mine," he says. "And I may be terrible at it, but I'd love to dance with you. If you'd like."

"I would like," Steve tells him. He holds out his hand, feels his heart flutter when Eddie takes it. "I'd like that very much."

[pucksandpower]

Be My Sanctuary

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles never expected to play Prince Charming to a stranger after a race, but when he comes across you being beaten by your boyfriend, he can’t just stand around and do nothing … it turns out to be exactly what you both needed

Warnings: domestic violence, abuse, and serious injury

The sun dips low on the horizon as Charles Leclerc and Fred Vasseur make their way back to the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with post-race energy, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

“That was some driving out there,” Fred says, clapping the Monégasque on the back. “P2 is nothing to sneeze at.”

Charles grins, his eyes bright despite the fatigue etched on his face. “Merci beaucoup. It felt good to be back on the podium. I think we’re really starting to find our rhythm with the car.”

“Agreed. If we can keep this momentum going-”

A sharp crack cuts through the air, followed by a cry of pain that makes both men freeze in their tracks.

Charles’ head whips around. “Did you hear that?”

Fred nods, his expression grim. “It came from over there.” He points towards a secluded area behind one of the hospitality units.

Without hesitation, they break into a run, rounding the corner just in time to see a man’s hand connect with a woman’s face. The sound of the impact turns Charles’ stomach.

“You stupid bitch!” The man screams, his face contorted with rage. “Do you have any idea how much money I lost because of you? I told you not to come to the race! You’re bad luck!”

You stumble backward, your hand pressed to your cheek. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up!” The man lunges forward, grabbing you by the arms and shaking you violently. “You cost me everything!”

Charles feels a surge of anger course through him. Without thinking, he sprints towards the pair, Fred close on his heels.

“Hey!” Charles shouts. “Let her go!”

The man’s head snaps up, his eyes wild. For a split second, he looks startled, but then his face twists into a snarl. Before Charles can reach them, the man slams your head against the brick wall with a sickening thud.

You crumple to the ground, unmoving.

Charles tackles the man, driving him away from the fallen woman. They hit the ground hard, and Charles feels the air rush out of his lungs. But adrenaline keeps him moving, and he manages to pin the larger man down.

“Fred!” He calls out. “Check on her!”

As Charles struggles to keep the man subdued, he hears Fred’s sharp intake of breath.

“Charles, she’s not responding. There’s ... there’s a lot of blood.”

The words send a chill down Charles’ spine. He glances over his shoulder and sees you lying motionless on the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath your head.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Charles shouts, hoping someone nearby will hear. He turns back to the man beneath him, who’s still thrashing and cursing. “Stop moving!” Charles hisses, pressing his forearm against the man’s chest.

“Get off me!” The man spits. “This is none of your business!”

Charles feels a fresh wave of rage wash over him. “None of my business? You just assaulted someone!”

Fred’s voice cuts through the chaos. “I’ve called for help. They’re on their way.” He’s kneeling beside you now, his jacket pressed against your head. “But it doesn’t look good. She needs immediate medical attention.”

The sound of running footsteps approaches, and suddenly there are more people around them. Charles recognizes some of the faces — other drivers, team personnel. Someone pulls him off the attacker, who’s quickly restrained by security.

Charles stumbles to his feet, his heart pounding. He makes his way over to where you lie, dropping to his knees beside Fred.

“Is she ...” He can’t bring himself to finish the question.

Fred shakes his head. “She’s alive, but barely. We need to keep pressure on the wound until the paramedics arrive.”

Charles nods, placing his hands over Fred’s on the makeshift compress. He looks down at your face, so pale and still. “Hold on,” he whispers. “Just hold on.”

The wait for the ambulance feels interminable. Charles keeps his eyes fixed on your chest, watching for the slight rise and fall that tells him you’re still breathing. He’s vaguely aware of the commotion around them — people asking questions, security trying to keep everyone back.

“What happened?” It’s Lewis’ voice, tinged with concern.

Fred answers, his voice low and tight. “Domestic violence. The boyfriend ...” He trails off, but the implication is clear.

“Jesus,” Lewis mutters. “Is there anything we can do?”

Charles looks up, meeting Lewis’ worried gaze. “Just ... pray, I guess.”

The sound of sirens cuts through the air, growing louder by the second. Charles feels a small measure of relief, but it’s quickly overshadowed by fear as he looks back down at you.

“Stay with us,” he murmurs. “Help is coming. Just stay with us.”

The paramedics arrive in a flurry of activity, gently but firmly moving Charles and Fred aside. Charles watches, feeling helpless, as they work on you with practiced efficiency.

“Severe head trauma,” one of them says. “We need to move her now.”

As they lift you onto a stretcher, Charles catches a glimpse of your face. There’s a bruise blooming on your cheek, stark against your pale skin. Something twists in his chest, a mixture of anger and an emotion he can’t quite name.

“I’m going with her,” he says suddenly, surprising himself.

Fred puts a hand on his shoulder. “Charles, I don’t think-”

“I need to make sure she’s okay,” Charles insists. He looks at Fred, pleading. “Someone needs to be there for her.”

After a moment, Fred nods. “Alright. I’ll handle things here and meet you at the hospital.”

Charles climbs into the ambulance, his eyes never leaving your still form. As the doors close and the vehicle lurches into motion, he reaches out and gently takes your hand.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he says softly, “but you’re not alone. I’m right here with you. And I promise, you’re going to be okay.”

As the ambulance speeds through the streets, sirens wailing, Charles finds himself holding onto your hand like a lifeline. He’s not sure if he’s trying to comfort you or himself.

The paramedic working on you glances at Charles. “You know her?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, I ... we just found her. Her boyfriend was ...” He swallows hard. “We stopped him, but not soon enough.”

The paramedic’s face softens with understanding. “You did the right thing. You probably saved her life by intervening when you did.”

Charles nods, but the words bring little comfort. He can’t shake the image of your head hitting the wall, the sound it made. He squeezes your hand gently.

“Fight,” he whispers. “Please fight.”

The rest of the ride passes in a blur of medical jargon and the steady beep of monitors. When they finally arrive at the hospital, Charles is ushered into a waiting room while you’re rushed into emergency surgery.

He paces the small room, unable to sit still. His mind races with questions. Who are you? Why would someone do this to you? Will you be okay?

Time seems to stretch endlessly. Charles checks his phone, sees messages from Fred and other concerned friends, but he can’t bring himself to respond yet. Not until he knows something.

Finally, after what feels like hours, a doctor approaches him. Charles stands, his heart in his throat.

“Are you here for the young woman brought in with head trauma?” The doctor asks.

Charles nods. “Yes. Is she ...”

“She’s out of surgery,” the doctor says. “We’ve managed to relieve the pressure on her brain, but the next 24 hours will be critical. Are you family?”

Charles hesitates. “No, I ... I was there when it happened. I rode here with her in the ambulance.”

The doctor’s expression softens slightly. “I see. Well, I can tell you that she’s stable for now, but still unconscious. We’ll be monitoring her closely.”

“Can I see her?” The words are out of Charles’ mouth before he can think better of it.

The doctor considers for a moment. “Normally we only allow family, but ... given the circumstances, I think we can make an exception. Just for a few minutes.”

Charles follows the doctor down a series of hallways, his heart pounding. When they reach your room, he pauses at the doorway, suddenly unsure.

“Go on,” the doctor says gently. “Talk to her. Sometimes patients can hear even when they’re unconscious.”

Taking a deep breath, Charles steps into the room. The sight of you lying there, surrounded by machines, makes his chest tighten. He moves to your bedside, carefully taking your hand once more.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s Charles. The guy from before. I don’t know if you remember, but ... I’m here. You’re safe now.”

He stands there for a long moment, just holding your hand and watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. It’s strange, he thinks, to feel so connected to someone he’s never even spoken to.

“I don’t know your story,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want you to know that you didn’t deserve this. No one does. And when you wake up — because you will wake up — you won’t be alone. I promise.”

A nurse appears in the doorway, signaling that his time is up. Charles gives your hand one last gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go.

As he leaves the room, he turns back for one last look. “I’ll be back,” he says. “Stay strong.”

Walking back to the waiting room, Charles feels a mix of emotions he can’t quite sort out. But one thing is clear — something has changed. And whatever happens next, he knows he’ll be there to see it through.

***

Days blend into one another as Charles maintains his vigil at your bedside. The rest of the Formula 1 circus has long since departed, but Charles can’t bring himself to leave. He’s made arrangements with the team, grateful for their understanding, and settled into a routine of sorts.

Each morning, he arrives at the hospital with fresh flowers and a determination that today might be the day you wake up. He talks to you, reads to you, and sometimes just sits in companionable silence, the steady beep of monitors a constant backdrop.

On the fifth day, as Charles is midway through reading an article about the benefits of having a dachshund, he notices a slight change. Your fingers twitch, almost imperceptibly. He leans forward, heart racing.

“Hey,” he says softly, taking your hand. “Can you hear me? If you can, squeeze my hand.”

For a long moment, nothing happens. Then, so faintly he almost misses it, he feels a gentle pressure against his palm. His breath catches in his throat.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “You’re doing great. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Slowly, painfully slowly, your eyelids flutter open. Your gaze is unfocused at first, confusion evident in your expression as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

“It’s okay,” Charles says, keeping his voice low and soothing. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now.”

You blink a few times, your gaze finally settling on Charles. Your brow furrows slightly, and you open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet,” Charles advises. “Your throat might be sore from the tube. Here.” He reaches for a cup of water with a straw, holding it to your lips. “Small sips, okay?”

You take a tentative sip, wincing slightly. After a moment, you try again to speak. Your voice is raspy, barely above a whisper. “Who ...”

“I’m Charles,” he says. “I was there when ... when you got hurt. Do you remember anything?”

You close your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. “Jake,” you murmur. “He was angry ...”

Charles feels a flare of anger at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, but he keeps his voice calm. “That’s right. He hurt you pretty badly. But you’re safe now. He can’t get to you here.”

You shake your head slightly, wincing at the movement. “It wasn’t his fault,” you say. “He just ... he gets upset sometimes. I shouldn’t have gone to the race. I knew it would make him angry.”

Charles frowns, recognizing the pattern of self-blame common in abuse victims. He takes a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Listen,” he says gently. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. No matter how angry someone gets, they don’t have the right to hurt you. Ever.”

You look away, tears welling up in your eyes. “You don’t understand. Jake ... he loves me. He just has a temper sometimes.”

“Love shouldn’t hurt,” Charles says firmly. “Love doesn’t leave you in the hospital with a skull fracture.”

Your eyes widen slightly at this information. “Is that ... is that what happened to me?”

Charles nods solemnly. “You’ve been unconscious for five days. The doctors ... they weren’t sure if you’d wake up at all.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “I don’t ... I don’t know what to do now.”

“You press charges,” Charles says without hesitation. “What he did to you was a crime. He needs to face the consequences of his actions.”

You shake your head frantically, wincing again at the movement. “No, I can’t. He’d be so angry. He ...”

“He would what?” Charles presses gently. “Hurt you again? That’s exactly why you need to do this. To protect yourself and maybe even others.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, tears falling silently. “I’m scared,” you finally whisper.

Charles squeezes your hand. “I know. And that’s okay. Being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. But you’re stronger than you know. You survived this. You can survive what comes next, too.”

“But where would I go?” You ask, your voice small. “Jake ... he made me drop out of school. I had to quit my job. I don’t have anywhere to go, or any money, or ...”

Your words trail off as a fresh wave of tears overtakes you. Charles feels a surge of protectiveness, coupled with a deep anger at the man who has left you in this situation.

“Hey,” he says softly, waiting until you meet his gaze. “I know we’ve only just met, and this might sound crazy, but ... what if you came to stay with me for a while?”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I live in Monaco,” Charles explains. “I know it’s far from here, but maybe that’s a good thing. It would give you some distance, some time to figure things out without having to worry about ... about him finding you.”

“But ... but I couldn’t,” you stammer. “I don’t have any money, I can’t pay rent or-”

Charles shakes his head. “I’m not asking for rent. I’m offering you a safe place to stay while you get back on your feet. No strings attached.”

You look at him skeptically. “Why would you do that for a stranger?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, considering his answer. “Because when I saw what was happening to you, I couldn’t just walk away. And I can’t walk away now, knowing you need help. Maybe it’s not my place, maybe it’s crossing some line, but ... I want to help. If you’ll let me.”

You’re silent for a long moment, and Charles can almost see the wheels turning in your mind as you weigh your options.

“What about your job?” You finally ask. “Don’t you have races to go to?”

Charles nods. “I do. But I have a big apartment, and there’s plenty of room. You’d have your own space. And when I’m away for races, I have friends who could check in on you, make sure you have everything you need.”

You bite your lip, looking torn. “I don’t know ... it’s a lot to take in.”

“Of course,” Charles says quickly. “You don’t have to decide right now. Take some time to think about it. But know that the offer is there if you want it.”

Just then, a nurse enters the room. Her face lights up when she sees you’re awake. “Well, look who’s back with us,” she says warmly. “I’ll go get the doctor. He’ll want to check you over.”

As the nurse leaves, you turn back to Charles. “You should go,” you say. “You’ve already done so much. You don’t need to stay.”

Charles stands, but he doesn’t move towards the door. “I’ll step out while the doctor examines you,” he says. “But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to come back after. We can talk more about ... everything.”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” you say softly. “And ... thank you. For being here. For caring.”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

As he steps into the hallway, Charles takes a deep breath. He knows he’s getting involved in a complicated situation, one that could have far-reaching consequences. But looking back at you through the doorway, he knows he’s made the right choice. Whatever comes next, he’ll be there to help you through it.

The doctor arrives, and Charles settles into a chair in the hallway. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through the messages he’s neglected over the past few days. There’s one from Fred, asking for an update. Charles types out a quick reply.

She’s awake. It’s complicated, but I think she’s going to be okay. I’ll call you later with details.

As he hits send, Charles leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He knows the road ahead won’t be easy, for either of you. But for the first time in days, he feels a spark of hope. It’s a start, he thinks. And sometimes, that’s all you need.

***

The sunlight glints off the sleek exterior of the private jet as Charles helps you up the stairs. He can feel the slight tremor in your hand as he guides you inside, noting the way your eyes dart nervously around the cabin.

“Welcome aboard,” Charles says with a warm smile, hoping to put you at ease. “Make yourself comfortable. We’ve got a bit of a flight ahead of us.”

You nod, your lips pressed into a thin line as you sink into one of the plush leather seats. Charles settles in across from you, watching as you fumble with the seatbelt.

“Here, let me help,” he offers, leaning forward to assist. As he clicks the belt into place, he notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the armrests. “First time flying?” He asks gently.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

Charles shakes his head, his expression kind. “Not at all. But I fly a lot, so I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting nervous passengers.”

The engines roar to life, and you jump slightly in your seat. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t realize I’d be this scared.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” Charles assures you. “It’s a completely normal fear. Did you know that even some drivers get nervous on planes?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? But you guys race at insane speeds for a living.”

Charles chuckles. “I know, it sounds crazy. But it’s true. I think it’s about control. In a car, we’re in charge. On a plane, we have to trust someone else.”

You nod, seeming to relax slightly at his words. But as the plane begins to taxi, your grip on the armrests tightens again.

“So,” Charles says, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me about what you were studying before ... well, before everything happened.”

You look at him, confusion briefly replacing the fear in your eyes. “What?”

“You mentioned you had to drop out of school,” Charles explains. “What were you studying?”

A small laugh escapes you, tinged with irony. “You’re going to think this is ridiculous, but ... I was studying law.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Law? That’s impressive. Why would I think it’s ridiculous?”

You shrug, a hint of sadness creeping into your expression. “Just seems a bit ironic now, doesn’t it? Studying law and then ending up in a situation like ... like mine.”

The plane begins to accelerate down the runway, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Hey,” Charles says softly, reaching across to place his hand over yours. “Look at me. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. Charles can see the fear there, but also a flicker of determination.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Now, tell me more about your law studies. What made you choose that field?”

You take a deep breath, clearly making an effort to focus on the conversation rather than the plane’s ascent. “I’ve always been interested in justice, I guess. Helping people who can’t help themselves. I wanted to make a difference.”

Charles nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “That’s admirable. And you know what? I don’t think it’s ironic at all that you were studying law. If anything, I think it shows how strong you are.”

The plane levels off, and some of the tension leaves your body. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charles says, leaning back in his seat but keeping his hand on yours, “you chose a field dedicated to justice and helping others. That takes courage and compassion. The fact that you ended up in a difficult situation doesn’t change who you are at your core.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. “I never thought about it like that,” you admit.

“Have you thought about going back to school?” Charles asks. “Finishing your degree?”

You shake your head, a flash of pain crossing your face. “I can’t. I don’t have the money, and even if I did, I can’t go back to my old university. Jake ... he knows where it is. He’d find me.”

Charles nods, understanding. “What if you didn’t have to go back to your old university? What if you could start fresh somewhere new?”

You look at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Charles says, his mind racing with possibilities, “there are online programs you could look into. Or, if you prefer in-person classes, there’s the International University of Monaco. It’s a great school, and it would be close to where you’ll be staying.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Monaco has a university?”

Charles nods, a grin spreading across his face. “It does indeed. And they have a law program. I could help you look into it if you’re interested.”

You bite your lip, looking uncertain. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I was in school. And the cost ...”

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Charles says quickly. “Consider it an investment in your future. And as for being out of practice, well, that’s what studying is for, right?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You make it sound so simple.”

Charles shrugs. “Maybe it is. Sometimes we overcomplicate things in our heads. But the truth is, if it’s something you want to do, there’s usually a way to make it happen.”

The plane encounters a patch of turbulence, causing it to shake slightly. Your grip on Charles’ hand tightens, but you don’t close your eyes this time.

“Sorry,” you mutter, loosening your grip slightly.

“No need to apologize,” Charles says. “I’m here if you need a hand to hold. Or a distraction. Speaking of which, why don’t you tell me about your favorite class from when you were in school?”

As you launch into a story about a particularly engaging Constitutional Law seminar, Charles can’t help but notice how your eyes light up. It’s the most animated he’s seen you since you woke up in the hospital, and it fills him with a sense of hope.

The rest of the flight passes in a blur of conversation. You tell Charles about your favorite professors, the most interesting cases you studied, and your obsession with Legally Blonde while growing up. In turn, Charles shares stories from his racing career, the challenges he’s faced, and the lessons he’s learned along the way.

Before either of you realize it, the captain’s voice comes over the intercom, announcing your descent into Nice.

“Oh,” you say, surprise evident in your voice. “We’re here already?”

Charles grins. “See? Not so bad, was it?”

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping you. “I guess not. Thank you, Charles. For ... well, for everything.”

As the plane touches down on the runway, Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You’re welcome,” he says softly. “And hey, this is just the beginning, right?”

You nod, a mix of nervousness and excitement in your eyes. “Right. The beginning.”

The plane comes to a stop, and Charles stands, offering you his hand. “Ready to see your new home?”

You take a deep breath, then place your hand in his. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

As you make their way down the steps of the plane, Charles can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but looking at you now, seeing the spark of determination in your eyes, he’s filled with hope for what the future might hold.

The Mediterranean sun greets them as they step onto the tarmac, warm and welcoming. Charles watches as you take in your surroundings, your eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, gazing at the azure sea in the distance.

Charles smiles, feeling a surge of pride for his home. “Wait until you see the rest of it. Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

As you walk towards the waiting Ferrari, Charles finds himself stealing glances at you. There’s still fear and uncertainty in your eyes, but there’s something else too — a resilience that he admires. He makes a silent promise to himself, right there on the sun-drenched tarmac of the Côte d’Azur, to do whatever he can to help you rebuild your life.

“So,” he says as you slide into the passenger seat, “shall we swing by the university on our way home? Just to have a look?”

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Yeah,” you say, a small smile playing at your lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

The quiet of the night is shattered by a piercing scream. Charles bolts upright in his bed, heart racing, momentarily disoriented. Then realization hits him like a wave — it’s you.

Without hesitation, he leaps out of bed and races down the hallway to your room. He bursts through the door to find you thrashing in your sheets, eyes squeezed shut, still caught in the grip of your nightmare.

“No, Jake, please!” You cry out, your voice raw with fear. “Don’t hurt me!”

Charles is at your side in an instant, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he says softly but firmly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.”

Your eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. For a moment, you recoil from his touch, still trapped between nightmare and reality.

“It’s me,” Charles says, keeping his voice calm. “It’s Charles. You’re in Monaco, remember? You’re safe here.”

Slowly, recognition dawns in your eyes. “Charles?” You whisper, your voice trembling.

He nods, offering a reassuring smile. “That’s right. I’m here. You’re okay.”

The tension leaves your body all at once, and you collapse against him, tears streaming down your face. Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sob into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Charles soothes, running a hand gently up and down your back. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was just a nightmare.”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your tears with shaking hands. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I feel so stupid.”

Charles shakes his head firmly. “You’re not stupid. Nightmares are normal after what you’ve been through. And I’m glad I woke up. I want to be here for you.”

You take a shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. “It felt so real,” you whisper. “I could feel his hands on me, hear his voice ...”

“But it wasn’t real,” Charles reminds you gently. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.”

You nod, but Charles can see the lingering fear in your eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, I ... I just want to forget.”

“Okay,” Charles says, understanding. “Is there anything I can do? Maybe get you some water or tea?”

You bite your lip, looking uncertain. “Could you ... would you mind staying? Just until I fall asleep?” The words come out in a rush, as if you’re afraid to ask.

Charles feels a surge of protectiveness. “Of course,” he says without hesitation. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

Relief washes over your face. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Charles helps you settle back against the pillows, then hesitates for a moment. “Is it okay if I ...” He gestures to the other side of the bed.

You nod, shifting over slightly to make room. Charles slips under the sheets, careful to maintain a respectful distance. But you surprise him by moving closer, seeking comfort in his presence.

“Is this okay?” You ask, your voice small.

“Of course,” Charles assures you. He opens his arms, offering an embrace without pressure. “Whatever you need.”

You hesitate for just a moment before curling into his side, your head resting on his chest. Charles wraps his arms around you, feeling the rapid beat of your heart against his side.

“Try to relax,” he murmurs. “Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow.”

You nod against his chest, making a conscious effort to steady your breathing. Charles can feel some of the tension leaving your body as the minutes tick by.

“Charles?” You say after a while, your voice soft in the darkness.

“Hmm?”

“How do you do it?” You ask. “How do you stay so calm and ... and kind, even when I’m such a mess?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, considering his words. “You’re not a mess,” he says finally. “You’re healing. And that takes time. As for staying calm ... well, I’ve had my own struggles. I know what it’s like to need someone in your corner.”

You lift your head slightly, looking up at him. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath. He’s never been one to open up easily, but something about the quiet intimacy of the moment makes him want to share.

“Seven years ago now, I lost my father,” he says softly. “It was ... it was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. There were nights when I thought the pain would swallow me whole. But I had people who stood by me, who helped me through it. They taught me the importance of being there for others in their darkest moments.”

You’re silent for a long moment, absorbing his words. “I’m so sorry about your father,” you say finally. “That must have been awful.”

Charles nods, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. “It was. But it also taught me something important. Pain doesn’t last forever. It changes you, yes, but it doesn’t define you. You can come out the other side stronger.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask, a hint of doubt in your voice.

“I do,” Charles says firmly. “I’ve seen it in myself, and I see it in you too. You’re stronger than you know.”

You’re quiet again, and Charles can almost hear the wheels turning in your mind. “I want to believe that,” you say eventually. “But sometimes it feels like ... like I’ll never be whole again.”

Charles tightens his embrace slightly. “Healing isn’t about going back to who you were before,” he says. “It’s about becoming someone new. Someone who carries the lessons of the past but isn’t defined by them.”

You nod slowly, considering his words. “That makes sense,” you admit. “It’s just ... it’s hard to see that future sometimes.”

“I know,” Charles says softly. “But that’s why you’re not alone in this. I’m here to remind you of that future when you can’t see it yourself.”

You lift your head again, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “Why are you doing all this for me? You barely know me.”

Charles is struck by the vulnerability in your eyes. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.

“Because when I saw you that day, something inside me just ... knew I had to help,” he says. “I can’t explain it rationally. But I believe that sometimes, people come into our lives for a reason. Maybe I’m meant to help you heal. Or maybe you’re meant to teach me something. I don’t know. But I do know that I want to be here for you, if you’ll let me.”

You study his face for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, you lay your head back on his chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says. “Just focus on healing. And remember, you’re not alone in this.”

You nod against his chest, and Charles can feel your body relaxing further. Your breathing becomes slower, more even, and he knows you’re drifting off to sleep.

As the night deepens around you, Charles finds himself wide awake, acutely aware of your warm presence against him. He’s never been in a situation quite like this before, and he’s surprised by how natural it feels.

He thinks about the past few days, about the small victories you’ve already achieved. The way your eyes lit up when you toured the university campus. The quiet determination in your voice when you asked about application procedures. The shy smile that appeared when he showed you around Monaco.

Charles knows the road ahead won’t be easy. There will likely be more nights like this, more nightmares to soothe. But looking down at your peaceful face, finally relaxed in sleep, he feels a surge of hope.

Whatever challenges lie ahead, he’ll be there to face them with you. And somehow, he knows that together, you’ll both come out stronger on the other side.

As the first light of dawn begins to creep through the windows, Charles finally feels his own eyes growing heavy. He allows himself to drift off, still holding you close, a silent promise of protection in his embrace.

In the quiet of the early morning, as the world outside begins to stir, there’s a sense of peace in the room. It’s fragile, perhaps, but it’s there. And for now, in this moment, it’s enough.

***

The first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Charles stirs, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He feels a weight against his chest and looks down to see you still nestled in his arms, your breathing deep and even.

For a moment, he simply watches you sleep, struck by how peaceful you look compared to the night before. He’s careful not to move, not wanting to disturb your rest. But as the room grows brighter, he sees your eyelids begin to flutter.

You blink awake, confusion briefly clouding your features before recognition sets in. “Charles?” You murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” he says softly, offering a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

You shift slightly, seeming to become aware of your position. A blush creeps across your cheeks as you pull back a bit. “I’m ... I’m okay,” you say. “I’m sorry about last night. You didn’t have to stay.”

Charles shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I wanted to stay. I’m just glad you were able to get some rest.”

You nod, running a hand through your tousled hair. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if ...”

Your voice trails off, but Charles understands. “Hey,” he says, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to think about that. You’re here now, and you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You’re right. I just ... I’m not used to someone being so kind without expecting anything in return.”

Charles feels a pang in his chest at your words. “Well, get used to it,” he says, injecting a lightness into his tone. “Because that’s just how things work in the Leclerc household.”

You laugh softly, the sound warming Charles from the inside out. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Charles grins. “It’s in the contract. Kindness, comfort, and an abundance of croissants. Speaking of which, are you hungry? I could whip up some breakfast.”

You nod, sitting up slowly. “Breakfast sounds great. But you don’t have to cook. I can manage.”

Charles waves off your protest as he sits up as well. “Nonsense. I insist. Besides, I make a mean omelette. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my secret recipe.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement. “Secret recipe, huh? Do I get to know what’s in it?”

Charles taps the side of his nose conspiratorially. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it? You’ll just have to trust me.”

As he moves to get out of bed, a thought strikes him. He hesitates for a moment, then turns back to you. “Actually, before we head to the kitchen, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

You look at him curiously, a hint of apprehension in your eyes. “Oh?”

Charles takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous. “I was wondering if ... well, if you might want to come to my next race with me?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Your next race?”

Charles nods, watching your reaction carefully. “Yeah. It’s in a couple of weeks. I thought maybe a change of scenery might be good for you. Plus, you’d get to see what I do up close. But if it’s too soon, or if you’re not comfortable with the idea, I completely understand.”

You’re quiet for a moment, biting your lip as you consider his offer. “I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just ... the last time I was at a race ...”

Understanding dawns on Charles’s face. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that. We don’t have to go if it brings up bad memories.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, it’s not that. Well, not entirely. It’s just ... I’m worried about being recognized. What if Jake sees me on TV or something?”

Charles leans forward, his expression serious. “Hey, look at me. If you come to the race, you’ll be under the full protection of the team. No one gets near the garage without proper clearance. And as for TV, well, we can make sure you’re not caught on camera if that’s what you want.”

You still look uncertain. “But won’t people wonder who I am? I don’t want to cause any trouble for you or your team.”

Charles can’t help but smile at your concern. “Trust me, the team has dealt with far more complicated situations than this. If anyone asks, we’ll simply say you’re a family friend. No one needs to know the details.”

He watches as you mull over his words, hope building in his chest. Finally, you look up at him, a small smile playing at your lips. “You really want me to come?”

Charles nods emphatically. “I really do. I think it could be good for you. A chance to create some new, positive memories associated with racing. Plus,” he adds with a grin, “I’d love for you to see me in action. I promise I’ll try to put on a good show.”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood in the room. “Oh, is that so? Pretty confident, aren’t you?”

Charles shrugs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

You shake your head in amusement, but Charles can see you’re still hesitating. “You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Take some time to think about it. The offer stands whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, looking grateful for the lack of pressure. “Thank you, Charles. I’ll think about it, I promise.”

“That’s all I ask,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Now, how about that breakfast? I believe I promised you a life-changing omelette.”

As you make your way to the kitchen, Charles can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows he’s taking a risk by inviting you to the race so soon, but something tells him it’s the right move. He’s seen glimpses of your strength over the past few days, and he believes that this could be a crucial step in your healing process.

In the kitchen, Charles busies himself with preparing breakfast, stealing glances at you as you settle at the counter. You still look a bit hesitant, but there’s a spark in your eyes that wasn’t there before.

“So,” he says as he cracks eggs into a bowl, “while you’re thinking about the race, why don’t you tell me more about your law studies? Any particular area you’re most interested in?”

You perk up at the question, and Charles listens intently as you launch into an enthusiastic explanation of your passion for human rights law. As he watches you speak, animated and engaged, he feels a warmth spread through his chest.

This, he thinks, is what healing looks like. Small steps, day by day, reclaiming pieces of yourself. And if he can play even a small part in that process, well, that’s a victory more satisfying than any podium finish.

As he serves up the omelettes, Charles makes a silent promise to himself. Whatever you decide about the race, whatever challenges lie ahead, he’ll be there. Supporting you, cheering you on, just as fiercely as any fan in the grandstands.

Because in this moment, watching you take your first bite and exclaim over his “secret recipe,” Charles realizes something important. In helping you find your strength, he’s discovering new depths of his own.

***

The energy in the paddock is electric as Charles makes his way to the Ferrari garage. He can feel the excitement buzzing through the air, the anticipation of the race to come. But today, there’s an extra flutter in his stomach that has nothing to do with pre-race jitters.

He spots you standing near the back of the garage, looking a bit overwhelmed by the flurry of activity around you. Your eyes light up when you see him, and he can’t help but smile.

“Hey,” he says, approaching you. “How are you holding up?”

You give him a small smile. “It’s ... a lot. But exciting. I can’t believe I’m actually here.”

Charles nods, understanding. “I know it can be overwhelming at first. But you’re doing great. And I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “A surprise? Charles, you didn’t have to-”

He cuts you off with a grin. “I wanted to. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Charles leads you to a quieter corner of the garage where his race gear is laid out. He picks up his helmet, turning it so you can see the design.

Your eyes widen as you spot the purple ribbon painted prominently on the side. “Is that ...”

Charles nods, his expression softening. “A domestic violence awareness ribbon. I had it added for this race.”

You’re quiet for a moment, your fingers hovering over the ribbon without quite touching it. When you look up at Charles, your eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Why?” You ask softly.

Charles takes a deep breath. “Because I want to use my platform to raise awareness. And because ...” he pauses, meeting your gaze, “because I want you to know that you’re not alone. That there are people out there who care and want to help.”

You blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “Charles, I don’t know what to say. This is ... it’s incredible.”

He reaches out, gently squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that when I’m out there on the track today, I’m racing for you and for everyone who’s been in your position.”

You nod, unable to speak. Charles understands the emotions you’re feeling — he’s feeling them too.

A voice calls out from across the garage. “Charles! Five minutes!”

Charles turns back to you. “I’ve got to go get ready. Will you be okay?”

You take a deep breath, composing yourself. “I’ll be fine. Go. And Charles?” You meet his eyes, a small smile on your face. “Thank you. For everything.”

He nods, giving your hand one last squeeze before heading off to finish his pre-race preparations.

The race itself is a blur of adrenaline and focus. Charles pushes himself to the limit, hyper-aware of the special helmet he’s wearing and what it represents. When he crosses the finish line in second place, his heart is pounding with more than just exertion.

As he pulls into parc fermé, Charles can see the crowd of reporters already gathering. He takes a deep breath, knowing what’s coming. Sure enough, as soon as he steps foot in the media pen, he’s surrounded by microphones and cameras.

“Charles! Congratulations on P2!” One reporter calls out. “But everyone’s talking about your helmet today. Can you tell us about the ribbon?”

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “The ribbon on my helmet today is a symbol of awareness for domestic violence. It’s an issue that affects millions of people around the world, and I wanted to use this platform to bring attention to it.”

Another reporter jumps in. “Was there a specific reason you chose this race to highlight this cause?”

Charles pauses, carefully considering his words. “I believe that as public figures, we have a responsibility to use our voices for good. Domestic violence is a problem that often stays hidden, and I want to help bring it into the light.”

“Will the helmet be part of any specific initiative?” A third reporter asks.

Charles nods, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yes, actually. I’m going to be auctioning off this helmet, with all proceeds going to charities that combat domestic violence and support survivors.”

There’s a murmur of approval from the gathered press. “That’s a wonderful gesture,” one reporter says. “Can you tell us more about why this cause is so important to you?”

Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes briefly scanning the crowd. He spots you standing at the back, partially hidden behind a barrier. Your eyes meet, and he draws strength from your presence.

“It’s important because it’s a problem that affects so many people, yet it’s often overlooked or ignored,” Charles says, his voice steady and clear. “I ... I have seen firsthand the devastating impact it can have on someone’s life. And I want to do whatever I can to help break the cycle of violence and provide support for those who need it.”

There’s a moment of silence as the reporters absorb his words. Then the questions start flying again.

“Have you partnered with any specific organizations for this initiative?”

“Do you plan to continue raising awareness for this cause in future races?”

“How do you balance your focus on racing with your desire to address social issues?”

Charles answers each question thoughtfully, his passion for the cause evident in every word. As the press conference winds down, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride. Not just for his performance on the track, but for using his platform to make a difference.

As he makes his way back to the Ferrari garage, Charles spots you waiting for him. Your eyes are bright with emotion, and he can see the pride and gratitude written all over your face.

“That was amazing,” you say as he approaches. “I can’t believe you did all that.”

Charles shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “It was the least I could do. I hope it helps, even if it’s just a little bit.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping you. “A little bit? Charles, do you have any idea how much impact something like this can have? You just brought attention to this issue in front of millions of people.”

He nods, the weight of what he’s done starting to sink in. “I just hope it makes a difference. That it helps someone out there feel less alone.”

You reach out, squeezing his hand. “It already has,” you say softly.

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a voice calls out from behind him.

“Charles! A word?”

Charles turns to see a familiar face — Federica, a respected journalist he’s known for years. She approaches with a warm smile, notepad in hand.

“Federica,” Charles greets her. “How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you,” she replies. “That was quite a statement you made out there today. I was hoping we could talk a bit more about it. Off the record, if you prefer.”

Charles glances at you, silently asking if you’re okay with this. You nod encouragingly.

“Sure,” Charles says. “What would you like to know?”

Federica’s expression turns serious. “I’ve known you for a while now. This isn’t just a random cause you’ve picked up. There’s a personal connection here, isn’t there?”

Charles takes a deep breath, weighing his words carefully. He feels you shift closer to him, offering silent support.

“You’re right,” he says finally. “It is personal. I can’t go into details, but ... I’ve seen up close how devastating domestic violence can be. And I realized that I had an opportunity to do something about it.”

Federica nods, her eyes softening with understanding. “That’s very brave of you, Charles. Both to take this stand and to admit the personal connection. Can I ask what made you decide to do it now?”

Charles glances at you again, a small smile playing at his lips. “Let’s just say I’ve been inspired by someone very brave. Someone who showed me that it’s possible to turn pain into purpose.”

Federica follows his gaze, her eyebrows raising slightly as she notices you for the first time. “I see,” she says, a knowing look in her eye. “Well, I think what you’re doing is wonderful. And I would be happy to help spread the word about the helmet auction, if you’d like.”

Charles nods gratefully. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

As Federica walks away, Charles turns back to you. “I hope that was okay,” he says softly. “I didn’t want to say too much, but ...”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “It was perfect. Really. I ... I don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

Charles reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to thank me. Seeing you here, seeing how far you’ve come ... that’s all the thanks I need.”

For a moment, you just look at each other, a wealth of unspoken emotions passing between you. Then, impulsively, you step forward and wrap your arms around Charles in a tight hug.

He returns the embrace without hesitation, holding you close. In that moment, surrounded by the noise and chaos of the paddock, Charles feels a sense of peace wash over him.

This, he thinks, is what really matters. Not the podiums or the points, but the ability to make a difference. To help someone heal and find their strength again.

As you pull back from the hug, Charles sees something new in your eyes. A spark of determination, of hope for the future. And he knows, without a doubt, that this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

***

The late afternoon sun streams through the windows of Charles’ Monaco apartment, warming the living room. Charles is sprawled on the couch, idly scrolling through his phone, when he hears a sudden gasp from the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” your voice carries through the apartment, a mix of shock and something else Charles can’t quite place.

He sits up, instantly alert. “Everything okay?” He calls out, already moving towards the kitchen.

You appear in the doorway, your face flushed and your eyes wide. You’re clutching your phone like a lifeline, and there’s an energy radiating from you that Charles has never seen before.

“I ... I got in,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles furrows his brow, confused for a moment before realization dawns. “The university? You heard back?”

You nod, a smile breaking across your face like the sun emerging from behind clouds. “I got in, Charles. They accepted me!”

The joy in your voice is infectious, and Charles feels his own face split into a grin. “That’s amazing!” He exclaims, stepping towards you. “I knew you could do it!”

What happens next seems to unfold in slow motion. You close the distance between you in two quick steps, and before Charles can process what’s happening, your lips are on his.

The kiss is brief, a burst of spontaneous happiness, but it sends a jolt through Charles’ entire body. For a split second, he’s frozen, his mind struggling to catch up with the reality of your lips against his.

But as quickly as it began, it’s over. You pull back abruptly, your eyes wide with shock at your own actions. “Oh god,” you stammer, taking a step back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ... I was just excited and I ...”

Charles can see the panic rising in your eyes, the fear that you’ve crossed a line. He wants to reassure you, to tell you that it’s okay, more than okay, but you’re already backing away, words tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please don’t be mad, I-”

“Hey,” Charles cuts in gently, reaching out to catch your hand before you can retreat further. “Stop apologizing.”

You freeze, uncertainty written all over your face. “But I-”

Charles shakes his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for. In fact ...” he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You ... you have?”

Charles nods, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. “I have. But I didn’t want to rush you. I wanted to give you time to heal, to find yourself again.”

You’re quiet for a moment, processing his words. “So you’re not ... upset?”

Charles can’t help but chuckle. “Upset? No, definitely not upset. More like ... thrilled. And maybe a little disappointed in myself for not making the first move.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Really?”

“Really,” Charles confirms. He takes a step closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. “In fact, if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to kiss you again. Properly this time.”

You nod, a mix of nervousness and anticipation in your eyes. “I’d like that,” you whisper.

Charles leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to change your mind. But you don’t pull away. Instead, you meet him halfway, your lips connecting in a kiss that’s soft and sweet and full of promise.

This time, Charles is fully present in the moment. He savors the feeling of your lips against his, the warmth of your body as you step closer. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.

When you finally break apart, you’re both a little breathless. Charles rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“Wow,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” Charles agrees. “Wow indeed.”

For a moment, you just stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms. Then Charles remembers what started all this.

“So,” he says, pulling back slightly to meet your eyes. “You got into law school. We should celebrate!”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree in a way Charles has never heard before. “I almost forgot about that for a second there.”

Charles grins. “Well, we can’t have that. It’s not every day you get accepted to study law at the International University of Monaco. This calls for champagne!”

He starts to move towards the kitchen, but you tug on his hand, pulling him back. “Wait,” you say softly. “Before we celebrate ... can we talk about this?” You gesture between the two of you.

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

You bite your lip, suddenly looking uncertain. “I just ... where do we go from here? I mean, I like you, Charles. A lot. But I’m still ... I’m still healing. And I don’t want to complicate things or ruin our friendship if-”

Charles cuts you off gently, taking both of your hands in his. “Hey, look at me,” he says softly. When you meet his gaze, he continues. “I like you too. A lot. And I understand that you’re still healing. I don’t want to rush anything or pressure you in any way.”

You nod, relief evident in your eyes. “So what do we do?”

Charles smiles. “We take it slow. We keep being friends, but we also explore these new feelings. And most importantly, we communicate. If at any point you feel overwhelmed or want to slow things down, you tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, a small smile playing at your lips. “And what if ... what if I want to speed things up sometimes?”

Charles feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Then we can do that too. As long as we’re both comfortable and on the same page.”

You nod, looking more relaxed now. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good,” Charles says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, about that champagne ...”

As Charles moves to the kitchen to fetch the bottle, he can’t help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him. This thing between you is new and fragile, but it’s also full of potential. And he’s determined to nurture it, to give it the time and care it needs to grow into something beautiful.

He returns with two glasses and the champagne, finding you settled on the couch. As he pours, he can’t help but steal glances at you. There’s a glow about you that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun — it’s the light of new beginnings, of hope for the future.

“A toast,” Charles says, handing you a glass. “To new adventures in education and ... other areas.”

You laugh, clinking your glass against his. “To new adventures,” you agree.

As you sip the champagne, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles finds himself marveling at how far you’ve come in the past few months. From the scared, broken woman he first met to this confident woman embarking on a new chapter of her life.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, noticing his contemplative expression.

Charles smiles. “Just ... how proud I am of you. You’ve come so far, and now you’re starting this new journey. It’s inspiring.”

You blush slightly at his words. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know. Your support has meant everything.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Charles insists. “But I’m glad I could help. And I’ll be here to support you through your studies too. Although,” he adds with a grin, “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be with law textbooks.”

You laugh, leaning into him slightly. “I’m sure you’ll find ways to be helpful. Moral support is important too, you know.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case, I’m your man. Moral support is my specialty.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, you and Charles talk about everything and nothing. You discuss your hopes for university, your fears, your dreams for the future. Charles shares stories from his racing career, anecdotes he’s never told anyone else.

And through it all, there’s a new undercurrent of electricity between you. A spark ignited by that spontaneous kiss, fueled by the promise of something more.

As the sky outside turns a deep indigo, Charles finds himself marveling at the unexpected turns life can take. A few months ago, he was just a driver focused on his next win. Now, he’s sitting here with you, on the cusp of something that feels bigger and more important than any championship.

“What are you smiling about?” You ask, noticing his expression.

Charles pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Just thinking about how sometimes the best things in life are the ones you never see coming.”

You snuggle into his side, a contented sigh escaping you. “I couldn’t agree more.”

***

Five Years Later

The sun shines brightly on the streets of Monaco as Charles stands before a modest but elegant building, his heart swelling with pride. He glances at you, standing beside him in a crisp power suit, your eyes sparkling with excitement and determination. It’s a look he’s come to know well over the past five years, but today it seems to shine even brighter.

“Are you ready for this?” Charles asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You turn to him, a radiant smile spreading across your face. “I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” you reply, your voice steady and sure.

Charles feels a surge of love and admiration wash over him. He remembers the scared, broken woman he met all those years ago, and marvels at the strong, confident woman you’ve become. His wife. His partner in every sense of the word.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice calls out, drawing their attention to the small crowd gathered before them. “We are here today to celebrate the grand opening of the Leclerc Center for Domestic Violence Support and Legal Aid.”

A round of applause breaks out, and Charles feels you squeeze his hand tighter. He knows how much this moment means to you, how hard you’ve worked to make it a reality.

The speaker, a distinguished-looking woman in her fifties, continues. “This center represents a beacon of hope for those who have suffered in silence, a promise that they are not alone, and that help is available. And we have two very special people to thank for making this dream a reality.”

She gestures towards Charles and you. “Charles and Y/N, would you like to say a few words before we cut the ribbon?”

Charles looks at you, silently asking if you want to speak first. You nod, stepping forward with the confidence of someone who has found their true calling.

“Thank you all for being here today,” you begin, your voice clear and strong. “This center is more than just a building. It’s a promise. A promise to every person out there who’s suffering in an abusive relationship that there is hope, there is help, and there is a way out.”

Charles watches you speak, feeling a swell of pride. He remembers the countless late nights you spent poring over law books, the tears of frustration and determination as you fought your way through law school. And now here you are, a fully qualified attorney, using your hard-earned skills to help others who were once in your position.

“I stand here today not just as a lawyer, not just as the co-founder of this center, but as someone who has been where many of our future clients are right now,” you continue, your voice wavering slightly with emotion. “I know the fear, the doubt, the feeling of being trapped. But I also know the incredible strength that lies within each survivor. And it is my deepest hope that this center will help them find that strength, just as I did.”

As you step back, wiping a tear from your eye, Charles pulls you into a quick, supportive hug before stepping forward himself.

“When I met my wife five years ago,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion, “I was just a driver who thought he had it all figured out. But she opened my eyes to a world I knew little about, and showed me that sometimes the most important battles are the ones fought off the track.”

He pauses, looking out at the crowd. He sees familiar faces — fellow drivers who’ve supported this project, team members who’ve become like family, and new faces too — survivors, advocates, people who believe in the mission of this center.

“This center is a dream that we’ve shared for years,” Charles continues. “A dream of creating a safe space where survivors can find legal support, counseling, and most importantly, hope. And while I may not be the one providing legal advice,” he adds with a chuckle, earning a laugh from the crowd, “I promise to support this center and its mission in every way I can.”

He turns to you, his eyes shining with love and admiration. “And to my incredible wife, who has been the driving force behind all of this — thank you. For your strength, your determination, and for showing me what true courage looks like every single day.”

As Charles steps back, the crowd erupts in applause. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as the official hands you a large pair of scissors.

“Are you ready to do the honors?” The official asks.

You and Charles share a look, years of unspoken understanding passing between you in that moment. Together, you step forward, positioning the scissors at the purple ribbon stretched across the entrance.

“On the count of three,” the official announces. “One ... two ... three!”

With a satisfying snip, the ribbon falls away. The crowd cheers, and cameras flash as you and Charles stand before the open doors of the center, your shared dream finally a reality.

As the crowd begins to file inside for the reception, you turn to Charles, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “We did it,” you whisper. “We really did it.”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, not caring about the cameras still flashing around them. “You did it,” he murmurs into your hair. “I just followed your lead.”

You pull back, shaking your head with a fond smile. “We’re a team, remember?”

Charles laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “How could I forget?”

As you make your way inside, greeting guests and answering questions, Charles finds himself reflecting on the journey that brought you both to this moment. The ups and downs, the challenges and triumphs, all leading to this day.

A familiar face approaches — Federica, the journalist who had interviewed Charles after that fateful race five years ago. “Charles, Y/N,” she greets you warmly. “Congratulations on this amazing achievement. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

You nod, your professional demeanor sliding into place. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

“This center is quite different from the usual celebrity charity projects,” Federica begins. “Can you tell me what inspired you to take such a hands-on approach?”

You and Charles share a look, silently deciding who should answer. Charles gives a small nod, encouraging you to take the lead.

“For us, this isn’t about charity in the traditional sense,” you explain. “It’s about using our resources and platform to create real, tangible change. As a survivor myself, I know firsthand how crucial legal support can be in escaping an abusive situation. But I also know how intimidating and overwhelming the legal system can seem.”

Charles watches as you speak, marveling at your eloquence and passion. He remembers the early days of your relationship, when you would sometimes struggle to find your voice. Now, you command the room with ease.

“Our goal with this center,” you continue, “is to provide comprehensive support — legal aid, counseling, practical assistance — all under one roof. We want to remove as many barriers as possible for those seeking help.”

Federica nods, scribbling in her notepad. “And Charles,” she turns to him, “how do you see your role in all of this?”

Charles straightens, his expression serious. “My role is to support this center and its mission in every way I can. Whether that’s using my platform to raise awareness, helping to secure funding, or simply being here to show that everyone can and should be allies in this fight against domestic violence.”

You reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze. Charles feels a surge of gratitude for your unwavering support, both in this project and in his career.

“And how do you balance this work with racing?” Federica asks.

Charles smiles. “It’s all about priorities. Racing is my passion, but this center, and the work we do here, that’s my purpose. I’m fortunate to have a team and sponsors who understand and support that.”

As Federica thanks the two of you and moves on to speak with other guests, Charles turns to you. “You were amazing,” he says softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

You lean into him slightly, a soft smile playing at your lips. “We were amazing,” you correct him. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Before Charles can respond, another guest approaches, asking for a tour of the facilities. As you lead the way, explaining the various services the center will offer, Charles hangs back slightly, simply observing.

He watches as you point out the private consultation rooms, the children’s play area designed to make the center welcoming for families, the state-of-the-art security systems put in place to ensure client safety. Your eyes light up as you describe the pro bono legal services, the partnerships with local shelters and support groups, the education and prevention programs you hope to implement.

In this moment, seeing you in your element, Charles is struck anew by how far you’ve both come. From that terrifying night in the paddock to this day of hope and new beginnings, it’s been a journey neither of you could have anticipated.

As the day winds down and the last of the guests depart, Charles finds you standing in the main reception area, looking around with a mix of awe and determination.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You lean into him, letting out a contented sigh. “I was just thinking about all the lives we’re going to change here. All the people we’re going to help.”

Charles presses a kiss to your temple. “You’ve already changed so many lives, you know. Including mine.”

You turn to face him, your eyes shining with love and gratitude. “We’ve changed each other’s lives. And now we get to pay it forward.”

As Charles looks at you, his partner in every sense of the word, he knows that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. Just as you always have.

“Ready to go home?” He asks softly.

You nod, taking one last look around the center. “Yes,” you say, your voice filled with quiet determination. “But we’ll be back bright and early tomorrow. We’ve got work to do.”

Charles smiles, taking your hand as you walk towards the exit. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[churipu]

OUTFIT CHECK 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, iatdori yuuji x reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. jjk men being in love with you.

note. i'm back! i managed to fit in writing this in the middle of my midterms, i just finished my qualitative research paper for the midterms and i have 3 more take home exams to do. i hope you like this piece <33

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

you stood in front of the mirror, shifting your body from side to side, eying your reflection from different angles. raising a brow, you heaved out a soft sigh — before eventually twirling to face gojo who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. his icy blue eyes had been gazing at you for as long as you've been standing in front of the mirror against your reflection.

"'toru, do you think i look—"

gojo hushes you, putting a finger onto your lips, shutting you up immediately, "no, you don't look bad, and no your outfit doesn't look weird. you look beautiful," he rattles with a small smile.

"but i just feel like something's wrong with my combination," you said, stepping back to disperse from his finger, "like something's out of place. i just don't know what . . ."

gojo slipped an arm across your shoulder, turning your body to face your reflection, "i don't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, baby — you're really pretty . . . and i look pretty amazing too," he winked cheekily at the mirror, kissing the side of your face.

the male had been sitting on the edge of the bed, paying attention to you analyzing your own outfit for the past fifteen minutes. twirling here and there, stepping backwards and forwards cluelessly. the male didn't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, in fact, you looked absolutely stunning in his point of view.

his comment made you break a small smile.

"is this top too revealing?" you turn your back to the mirror, revealing a slight peek at your fragrant s/c skin.

"baby, baby," he scoffs, "i'm the strongest, i can fight, you know? and you look beautiful in that top, you should wear it often, yeah?" his slender fingers grazes over your exposed skin gently, sending shivers down your spine.

a string of laughter escaped your throat, "i love you, you know that?"

the male leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "i love you more. no complaints."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

"do you think the top suits the bottom?" you asked nanami after changing into your third pants of the day — brows furrowed in frustration as nothing seemed to be clicking.

nanami raised his eyes from the book he had in his grasp, "you look beautiful," he complimented yet again for the third time.

"kento, how am i supposed to pick an outfit when you keep complimenting them all? help me pick one, will you?" nanami didn't understand why you were insistent on the 'mismatched' outfit (at least you think it is).

but in his eyes, everything seemed well-matched. he'd say it's a 11/10 for your ability to match these outfits of yours, "how? you look beautiful in them all."

groaning out, you raise two bags. a black and sage green bag, "pick one."

nanami inspected the two bags and then looked back at your outfit briefly, "the sage green one would fit perfectly with your outfit now," he pointed.

"okay. how about a jacket, do you think i'll need one?" you questioned, rummaging through the closet, "you always have a hunch of what i'd feel, it's your judgement."

he pondered your words for a bit, "take a jacket. forecast said it's going to be cold tonight, i don't want you getting sick."

you chuckled and bobbed your head, "right. anything else i should bring?"

"pepper spray."

"check."

"be careful, yes? call me if anything happens," nanami whispers, standing up from the bed — initially he wanted to come along with you to meet your friends. but he thought that he'd be a bother to you so he stopped himself from asking, "i love you so much."

"i love you more," you kissed his lips, to which he returned.

"let's drop you there, hm?" nanami grabs your hips, giving your flesh a slight squeeze, leading you out of the house.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

"y/n, do you — oh, wow."

yuuji stood, a hand on the handle of the door he just opened and another on the doorway. his jaw dropped at the sight of you, his partner.

you stood in front of a mirror, blinking cluelessly at his reaction. not knowing whether it was his surprise because of how good you looked or the other way around, "yuuji? do i what?"

yuuji blinked himself back into reality, entering the room mutely, his back leaned onto the shut door, "where are you off to?"

shaking your head you gazed back at your reflection, "i'm just mix and matching for a hang out with nobara tomorrow, does this look funny?"

he shook his head harshly, "no, no, you look really nice! really pretty," yuuji honestly said before inhaling, you quite literally took his breath away.

"really? the color suits?" you asked, pinching the shirt you're wearing, "is the pants a bit too short?"

yuuji stood still, "no . . . you — wow, you just look so pretty y/n. i don't know what else to tell you . . ." he whispers, entranced by your figure as he detached his back from the door to approach you.

mustering out a smile, you gave him a hug, "thanks yuuji, you're the best."

he nuzzled his nose into your hair, "you're so beautiful," yuuji mumbled before kissing the crown of your head.

all of a sudden, yuuji pulls back, his face stern and a frown on his face, "how come you're going out with kugisaki and i'm not invited?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes.

"baby, i promise it's just me and her. i'll get you something special on the way back and then we can watch movies? your pick." you pinched his cheeks gently.

"any movies?"

you nod, "any movies."

"okay! deal." yuuji beams out, kissing your cheek.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 5)

You were never one to complain. Living in the foster system means accepting all kinds of shit that comes with being an orphan in a stranger's house.

You almost never received any presents. It was rare the times you did get something at your placements, but if you did, it was a hand me down. Like the thin blue jacket you came wearing, that was a present from a divorced mother who kids were already too big for the jacket. Or the white dress that a christian family gave to you so you could go to church with them 'dressed appropriately'.

Well, you couldn't complain about that one. The simple white dress is to this day your 'fanciest' piece of clothing.

You wouldn't say you were that much of a picky eater either, but you certainly didn't like all kinds of food... which is pratically torture in the system. You just learned to push all kinds of food down your throat quietly, and if it was truly too bad for you to manage? You would simply come up with a weak excuse and run away from the food.

Being any kind of picky eater in the system was torture. Even worse if you have allergies. You knew a boy at your last group home that was allergic to glutten and peanuts, and he was basically as thin as you were. He was still bigger, being a cat hybrid and all, but at least you knew you weren't the only one suffering at these houses.

So imagine your surprise when John, the big dragon hybrid, spend his whole morning gently coaxing you to go shopping with him and Simon, to get 'things you might need', and 'snacks you might like to eat', and even 'go grab lunch at the mall'.

At first, you were too nervous and anxious to say anything, mostly just staring back at him as you fidgeted quietly in place. It took Johnny joining the conversation excitedly, Kyle sending you stupid thumbs up quietly from the living room couch, and Simon picking up the keys to their car while looking at you expectantly for you to finally agree to go with them.

So here you were, walking between two giants of men at a big and loaded shopping center, nervously trying to keep your pace matched up to theirs as Simon made sure to keep a hand enveloped tightly around your much smaller hand.

Worse of all? A lot of people were looking your way. Big hybrids like Price and Ghost weren't unnusual, but the small little human holding their hand surely was. Not only human, but a human under the care of hybrids. You wanted to burry your head in a deep hole and never come out.

"Darlin'." John's deep and purred voice called your attention immediatly as you looked up at him quietly. "Don't try and wander off, understood?"

You nod quietly, slightly intimidated by his tone and serious face.

"Good baby." He purrs out, giant hand coming down on your head as he messes slightly with the small strands there. "Now, sweetness, let's buy you some things."

"I... I really d-don't need anything..." You murmur quietly, a bit anxious about them wasting money on you.

Both of them looked at you with those serious expressions for a few seconds, considering you. John smiled slightly as he compromised, lifting both hands up.

"Then let's look around, if we find something, then that's good." His laugh is deep, slow and rough. It's clear the smoke from his dragon side had some effect on his throat. That, and he probably smoked cigars and cigarettes too.

You just nodded quietly, not willing to go against his word, as you three kept walking around. That is, until Simon grunted, fixing the surgical mask on his face and looking down like he was thinking of something.

".......what...?" You murmur softly, confused.

"I think you're breaking Simon's back, hun." John laughed deeply, shaking his head slightly.

"W-Wha...?"

"You're too small for me to hold your hand confortably." The wraith deadpanned. "Stay still."

"W-Wait, wh- Aah!"

You were stunned for a second, as you were suddenly held high up. Big, thick arms held your legs easily, making you sit in the crook of his elbow, as he held you to his side like a toddler. It was enough to shut your little squeak of surprise as you were just in shock now.

"Simon, I told you to be gentle." The dragon smirked slightly, tho his voice a bit more rough than usual as it seems to always have an edge of a growl on it.

"I am." The wraith grunted quietly as he started to walk once again. "This is the best option for the both of us. Right, luv?"

"A-Ah... I..." You were too flustered to properly say anything, but you still nodded your head slowly, trying to settle on his arms.

"See?" Simon smirked under his mask to John, as the older man simply rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"Say, darlin'. Do you like ice cream?" John offers out of nowhere as he smiles confidently, ignoring Simon's remark.

".....some flavors, yeah..." You mumble back, a little arm holding on Simon's shoulder as you looked around quietly, trying to ignore other people's looks.

"What's your favorite?" He asks easily, taking a different path as Simon followed close behind.

"...Vanilla is good..."

"Good, then vanilla is what you're gonna get." He answers simply, with the confidance you don't think you have ever seen on anyone else.

"...it's... it's really okay if you don't..." You try quietly, only to see him shaking his head slowly, looking over his shoulder that didn't have the wing, expression serious and stoic as his rough voice murmured.

"I provide to my hoard, little hatchling. It would do you good to remember that."

Those words, spoken in that way, was enough to immediatly shut you up, your body instinctively curling on itself (more on Simon really) at the sigh of an intimidating predator.

Tho, Simon didn't let you suffer in your fear and anxiety, as his big and wide palm settled on your small back, pulling you closer to his chest for confort as he was speaking, slow and quiet, even if his voice always sounded rough.

"Price's not mad, fledgling. Stay calm. He's not mad, much less mad at you. He's just a protective bastard." He snorted quietly, bouncing you a little on his arms to help you calm down.

"Watch it, Riley." Price mumbled, tho he had a small smile on his face as he slowed his pace a bit to stand by you and Simon, big hand now being placed on your upper back, which was a slightly shock due to how warm it felt. Simon was wearing gloves, but he felt much cooler. "And i'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you."

He was also doing that subtle baby voice, keeping his voice much quieter as he leaned in and gently nudged half of his face against yours, making you freeze a bit at the action. It really felt like a big animal was trying to be apologetic.

"If Kyle was here, you would've gotten an ear full." Simon commented simply as he watched, amused.

"Thank god he isn't." John huffs a little, stepping back. "I don't need mother hen scolding me for this. I didn't even growl." And now, he was leaning slightly closer again, that quiet and gentle tone coming back as he looked at your small, nervous face. "I'm not that scary, am I, darlin'?"

"'Course you are, for a small little thing like this?" Simon laughs roughly, shaking his head, his grip in you getting firmer.

"I-I'm not scared..." You mumble quietly, playing a bit with the sweater that they lent it to you yesterday, not making eye contact with either of them.

"Of course not, darlin'..." John cooed deeply, tho his tone made it clear that he wasn't taking your answer seriously, rubbing your head gently. "Come on."

In the end, they got you a vanilla ice cream on a big cone, that you were licking it quietly. They were speaking with eachother as they planned what next things to buy, and what stores to visit. You weren't paying that much attention, just focusing on your vanilla ice cream as Simon carried you around.

You got used to him carrying you, and now, you were much more confortable on his hold.

"Baby, look here." John's voice once again called your attention as you lifted your head from the ice cream to stare at him. "What do you think of this blanket?"

You tilted your head to the side, slightly confused, but you reached for the soft blanket he brough close, feeling the fuzzy, confortable texture.

"It's... good." You mumble, unsure about what to say.

"Just good?" John asked, considering your answer, looking between you and the blanket, before putting it back in place. "Let's see others, then."

You were not entirely sure what John was trying to do. Maybe buy you a blanket, but... you already had lots of blankets on the bed they gave you. And on the weird nest on the middle too.

Still, you got distracted once again with the ice cream in your tiny hold, going back to licking it. You were already getting a bit full... you were never the biggest fan of ice cream, you got tired of it fast. So, as you looked quietly to the side to stare at Simon's face, you gently brought the cone close to his face, making him look at you passively.

"Do you want a bit...?" You mumble softly, only to see the man pushing his surgical mask to his chin and taking a big bite out of the ice cream you were holding in front of his face.

You managed to see his scary, pointy and large teeth, the slightly too long and sharp tongue at the action, making you instinctively shudder on his hold. It was natural, a human watching their predator showing their dangerous teeth like it was nothing. Still, you were thankful for his help.

"Oww...." You turned a bit alarmed to John's direction as you heard the dragon's deep croon, his eyes getting half-lidded and pupils dilating. "Always soft for the hatchlings, aren't you, Simon?"

Simon just hums, swallowing the ice cream and licking his lips simply, keeping his serious expression.

"I'm used to being the kids' trashcan." He... joked? You were not sure, since he kept his face and tone so stony, but by John's laugh, you deduced it was a joke.

"Here, hun, how does this blanket feel?" John asks as he brings another fuzzy blanket close, light blue and full of colorful little dots.

"Good... confortable..." You mumble, feeling the material.

"Hmmm...." John considered once again, humming as he squinted his eyes.

"John, you know humans don't nest. She's not going to have hard instincts towards blankets." Simon comments, almost bored as te took another bite of your almost finished ice cream.

"I know, it's just... different to see it." John nods slightly before shrugging. "Do you like this color, little one?"

You just nod quietly, now understanding a bit more what was going on. Indeed, you shouldn't expect nesting instincts from a human, but even you could tell when the blanket was confortable and made from a good material.

"Come on, doll. Let's see what else we can find for you before having lunch." John mumbles softly, leaning close once again, quickly kissing Simon on the lips, who kissed back easily, and then kissing you on the forehead gently.

They were... very nice. Even if a bit scary.

Part 4 / Part 6

[milla-frenchy]

In the cold night

3k1 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: being on patrol, Joel and you spend the cold winter night together in a small house

Warnings: 18+ mdni. mention of a past SA attempt (not by Joel), protective!joel, feral!joel saving reader, friends to lovers, one bed, soft!joel, praise kink, masturbation (f), thighs rubbing, oral (f), piv. No age specified

a/n: this is written for @justagalwhowrites 's “Joel Miller birthday celebration”. I chose Jackson!Joel/one bed- Thank you for this event 🙏 Thank you @arcanefox207 for the gif in the mood board ❤️ Please, check out the full gif here and some others, they are stunning 😍 Thank you, Ally 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you as always for beta-ing, baby 💕🫶 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The crunch of your footsteps in the snow echoes in your head. Two rabbits are hanging from Joel’s back, clinging to his shoulder. His brown jacket has lost its shine long, long time ago, and the leather is frayed at the elbows and sleeves. Every time you pass him, the smell of old leather rushes into your nostrils. A reassuring, familiar scent.

You’re heading to an outpost, as you have done so many times before. You know each other's reflexes by heart, the way your bodies tense in case of danger, the glances that make speech useless. You no longer count the number of infected you have killed during patrols.

You look around a small wooden house. Searching for footprints, anything that might put you on alert. You scan the area, whether for infected, or worse- hunters or raiders.

You feel safe with Joel, ever since the day he snatched you from the hands of raiders. Two dirty, skinny men. They surprised you, during one of your first long patrols. They knocked Joel out, and dragged you on an old mattress of the shelter you just arrived at. They did not even pay attention to the dead duck that you planned to eat that evening. In this world, with some men, food is not the first thing they crave. 

You punched one of them, then tried to grab your knife, but two men were too much to handle. When they threw you onto the mattress, you struggled, screaming, biting, then one held your arms while the other removed your pants. Tears obstructed your view. You would have preferred to be bitten by an infected, rather than that. 

Just as the first man was about to lie down between your thighs while you were crying with rage, you heard a dull, cold, unexpected noise. A knife thrown from the opposite side of the room, just stuck in the skull of the man, holding your arms. As soon Joel threw the knife, he rushed to rip the man off your body, and then punched him so many times that his face got swollen from the blows and turned unrecognizable.

“Piece o’shit!” Joel growled from the depths of his chest. You looked at him, still half in shock at what had almost happened to you, feeling relieved. The man was lying on the ground, barely breathing. Joel let go of his collar and retrieved the knife from the second man’s skull. He pressed the tip of the blade against his heart and slowly pushed it in, his dark gaze fixed on the man’s. The raider’s feet twitched for a few moments, before they froze for eternity.

Then Joel rushed over to you and covered you with an old blanket pulled from the foot of the bed. As soon as he sat down on the mattress, his worried eyes fixed on you, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Wanting to forget your fear, to curl up against his reassuring presence. He took you in his arms, rocking you slowly, holding you close to him.

“ ‘m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear them coming, because of my damn bad ear.”

“It’s ok, Joel, it’s ok. They didn’t do anything to me,” you muffled in his chest.

“No it’s not. They did way too much. But I got you, now. I got you. Won’t happen again. Not on my watch.”

He held you against him for several minutes, patiently, one hand caressing your back, the other resting on the nape of your neck, until you stopped crying. He then asked if you were feeling a little better, if he could get the bodies out of the outpost. He didn’t want you to see them anymore. You nodded, watched him as he dragged the bodies out into the surrounding woods. 

He was sitting next to you until you fell asleep. He stood guard all night, staring at the shadows of the trees through the window, letting you rest.

From that day on, you knew that nothing would happen to you as long as you were with Joel. He was the type of man who, when he said something, stuck to it. He was reliable, loyal, and serious. He was your patrol partner, and you couldn't have asked for a better one.

Once you reach the shelter, you prepare the fire in the hearth of the old fireplace, while Joel goes around this old house, half buried under the snow. It is the first time that you patrol here in the middle of winter, and the walls and the ground are icy. You eat one of the rabbits, trying in vain to warm yourself by the fire. As you get ready to go to bed, Joel puts a blanket on the floor.

“What are you doing, Joel? You can't sleep there. You're gonna freeze and die, it’s too cold!”

“There's only one bed, sweetheart. Ain't gonna sleep with you.”

“Of course you're gonna sleep with me. Come on, Joel, don't be silly. We can share the bed, we have to keep each other warm or the next patrol will find our two skeletons in this damn house.”

“Jesus, you’re so stubborn! Alright then.”

You smile, thinking that you had never met someone as stubborn as him, and if he hadn't noticed your slightly blue lips, he probably wouldn't have changed his mind.

You undress and slip under the thin blankets, wearing your t-shirt and panties. Grimacing at the contact with the cold and damp covers. He joins you in the small bed, and even though warmth radiates from his body, your teeth still chatter.

“Christ, you're freezing. C’mere, I’ll keep you warm,” he says, as you take off your t-shirt and he discards his too, leaving only his boxers.

“Told you we had to sleep in the same damn bed… and I'm the stubborn one?”

He chuckles, and takes you in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

“Better, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, you’re as warm as a boiler. How is that possible? Icicles are practically falling off these blankets.”

“Alright, you’re exaggerating a bit, don’t you think?”

You scoff and muffle a laugh, then fall asleep.

You wake up during the night, Joel's light snoring in your ear. His arms are still around you and you're much less cold. His scent surrounds you. You shift slightly, putting the blanket that had slipped back on both of you. The movement makes him mumble in his sleep and you smile, getting ready to fall back asleep, until you feel him twitch against you. His cock, asleep until then, has just woken up in his boxers when your ass brushed against it.

You open your eyes suddenly. It’s been a long time since you felt a body- a hard cock - against you. You try to move away from him a little, to not wake him up, to not create awkwardness between you. But he holds you tighter against him, letting out a sigh of contentment when his cock finds its place against your ass again.

You get a rush of arousal and you're not sure if you'll be able to fall back asleep. Your walls are contracting painfully, calling for a release of the pressure from your crotch. You close your eyes, placing your hand under the pillow. Trying to think of something else, until his cock jerks again. Once, twice. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to fall back asleep. 

So you think that maybe, if you do it discreetly, you can make yourself come. Even though he's lying against you, his chest against your back.

You slide your hand south, slowly, so as not to wake him, and start brushing your swollen folds through your panties. But it's not enough. You slide your hand under the hem, finally whirling your clit under your finger. Joel growls against your ear and you freeze for a few moments, until his breathing becomes calm, steady. Gently, you stroke yourself, finally starting to feel the fire in your crotch calm down a little.

You vaguely feel his nose brush your hair, not paying much attention to it, thinking he does it in his sleep. Then you feel his hand slowly slide down your arm, and you jerk, hastily removing your fingers from your panties, realizing that Joel is awake and that he has caught you.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he whispers softly in your ear in his sleepy voice, taking your hand and gently bringing it back to your pussy.

You feel the heat reach your cheeks and think about getting up, but you're too ashamed to face him. There had never been any sexual tension between the two of you. You're what you could call friends, in this lost world. You trust each other, he told you about Sarah, you told him about your late husband and son. You trust each other, and honestly, you never thought about him as more than a friend. And you don't want to ruin your friendship.

“I just want you to feel good.”

You stay silent for a few moments. Thinking about what he's telling you. You know he's sincere. 

You feel your clit pulsing and you bite your lip.

“Ok, Joel,” you breathe out. 

You're unsure of what will happen between the two of you after, but you let him lead your hand and slide your fingers under your soaked panties. You're already moaning at the first touch and you feel your nipples hardening. 

Delicately, the tips of his fingers pressed against yours, you let him lead the dance and travel through your folds. Then he slides both your hands into your panties, and makes you touch yourself so delicately, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, that new moans escape you.

“Keep going, Joel, please…”

He hums, grazing your ear with his nose. You hear his breathing deepen, then he presses his forehead against your shoulder blade, still using your finger to brush your clit. You feel your pussy dripping. The fact that he is using your fingers, so perfectly, is perhaps the most sensual thing you have ever done.

You feel his cock stuck in his boxers harden even more as he keeps touching you. You crave to feel him against you, without any fabric between your bodies. You forget your shyness, your reserve, your worries.

“Would you… pull down your boxers? So I can feel you?*

“Of course, sweetheart.” He lets go of your hand to pull down his underwear. His hard cock springs out and this time you feel it fully against you. Big, hard.

“Between my thighs, please…”

He kisses your back and grabs his cock, slides it into this tight space, then comes to rest against your fingers again, in your panties. You slowly move your pelvis back and forth, rubbing yourself against his shaft.

“Christ, sweetheart… Feeling you against me, like that��”

“I know, Joel. It’s… good, really good.”

You no longer remember your fear that this will change things between you. The feeling is too good, too powerful, to think about anything else.

His shaft slides easily between your thighs, your pussy soaking him continuously.

“You’re so wet for me, baby”, he whispers in your ear, and a new flow trickles from your walls. His free hand caresses your shoulder, then he kisses it. You feel his mustache brush your skin, and your moans fill the room.

“You’re gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Fuck… fuck yeah, I'm gonna come, Joel.”

He keeps playing with your fingers with the same rhythm, feeling that you are close. Your mind goes blank. You only think about the pressure growing inside you, ready to explode.

“Come on baby, be a good girl for me,” he murmurs.

The orgasm washes over you, and you arch your back under its power, your ass pressed against Joel’s crotch. “Always such a good girl for me,” he praises, holding you against him, your hand in his, until your jerks stop.

Your breathing slowly goes down. “Damn”, you say. “That was so hot.”

“It was,” he smiles, kissing your shoulder. He doesn't ask for more, doesn't put any pressure on you, but you need more. You need your bodies to be one. You don't think too much about it, then add quickly, “Joel… I need to…” before shyness overwhelms you again, and he asks softly “tell me, baby. What do you need?”

The soft tone of his voice reassures you, and you add “I need to feel you… I need to feel you inside me.”

“Turn around, sweetheart. Lemme look at you.”

You do as he says, and face him. You barely see his face in the darkness of the night. Just enough to perceive the intensity in his gaze, behind his usual sweetness with you, as he strokes your cheek gently with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, of course. Ready to take whatever he wants to give you. His warm lips land on yours and press against them. You hear him take a deep breath, then his nose rubs yours. He kisses you again, with more intensity, and sensations you thought forgotten forever jostle throughout your whole being. His tongue tastes your lips, then slides between them and finds yours. He moans as your hand grabs his shaft softly, wet with his precum and your desire. You jerk him off slowly as you continue to make out. He's big. So big. But you don't wonder if your body can accept it, after all this time. You know it will. And you know Joel will be soft. You nestle his cock at your entrance after pushing your panties aside, murmuring “I wanna feel you,” your forehead against his.

You tilt your pelvis forward and his tip slides inside you, making you hold your breath for a few moments.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah. I just have to… get used to it.” 

He doesn’t move and lets you handle the rhythm. You kiss him again, and you feel your pussy dripping, eager to be filled. You put your hand on the back of his neck and squeeze his bicep with the other, sliding further down his shaft. Your walls spread as you glide on his tip and again, you feel that forgotten feeling. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, nipples tense. Your hand runs through his neck, and you feel his prominent veins under your fingers. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, when he is fully inside you. You pull back then push forward again, to reassure his worried eyes on you. You are so wet that the sounds echo in your ears and the whole room. Joel holds you against him, gently, sensually. One hand on your hip, the other on your back.

“Joel?” you ask.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Can you lie down on me? I'd like to feel you deeper.”

He caresses your cheek and tells you yes, of course.

You lie on your back and he removes your panties, kneeling between your thighs.

And he looks at you, from your face to your cunt. "You're beautiful," he says. His stare stops there, then he glances at you. As if he was asking you silently if he could taste you. You nod and he settles between your thighs, spreading your folds with his fingers.

“You're so wet for me, baby,” he adds, before licking your pussy in a long stroke. Pointing his tongue at your clit, then running over your folds again. Your knees are bent, legs spread as wide as possible. His head moves between your offered thighs, your hands lost in his curls, while his tongue laps at your dripping pussy. He pushes two fingers in your core, and places his lips around your clit, sucking it. Then swirls it under his tongue, while his fingers thrust in at a perfect, regular pace.

“Joel,” you whimper. “I'm gonna come again.”

Your nails tighten on his scalp as you come on his tongue, your walls squeezing uncontrollably around his two fingers. He pulls them out and replaces them with his tongue, drinking in everything that flows from you. The feeling is so strong, forgotten for so long, that you feel like you're going to burst into tears. But he stops, careful not to overwhelm you, and lies down between your thighs. He places his hand on your cheek and searches for your eyes before pushing his tip into you with his other hand, eyes lowered to you.

“Damn sweetheart,” he breathes. “You feel so good around me.”

His words envelop you and lull you. His voice is low, calm, as slow and sweet as the rhythm in which he sinks into you.

All his weight is on you and you have never felt so safe in your entire life. His arms surround you as you kiss. Your hands roam the top of his body. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his cheeks, his neck. His cock slides inside you, pushing your walls in the most perfect way with each thrust. Your knees are spread wide to welcome him between your thighs. He straightens up, leaning on one hand, and looks at you. Looks into your eyes filled with desire.

He watches your neck throbbing. Your chest heaving.

He watches where his cock is digging into you.

“I'm not gonna last. Can you give me one more, baby?”

“Yeah, it's... yes.”

He lies back on you, eyes locked on yours, and slides his arms under your shoulders. Your hot, sweaty chests rub against each other. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he thrusts into you, his shaft rubbing exactly where you need it. Your fingers dig into his flesh as you come on his shaft and he stops moving. Eager to keep watching you twitch beneath him, but trying not to come too. Not yet, not inside you. He wants to let you come until the shaking stops. 

He looks at you, and focuses on a mole, chosen at random. To focus on something else, than your pussy perfectly squeezing him. When your trembling finally stops, he grabs his cock hastily, just in time before his cum coats the inside of your thighs and your lower stomach, then his heavy body rests against yours.

“Christ, sweetheart… that was amazing,” he says, smiling at you. You kiss and then nestle against his chest. You feel his heart beat hard, then gradually calm down. You fall asleep without even realizing it.

When you wake up, it’s daylight. The smell of coffee rushes into your nostrils. For a moment, it’s like life is almost normal.

You sit up in bed, holding the blanket against you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says. Smiling, warm. Joel.

You smile back at him, thinking that you would like to wake up next to him every single day, from now on. 

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[noonecareslol]

˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. After you entered his life, everything changed. His secret is becoming harder to hide, along with his love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF with SMUT! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 3k Part 1! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were twelve when you started to dance.

You had been walking with your friend, heading to a convenience store when you saw it.

“Limelight Dance Studio”

However, it wasn’t the sign that caught your attention. Or the big beautiful building that looked like it belonged in a fairytale. What caught your attention was the woman walking into the studio.

Her hair was in a tight, slick bun, and her loose jacket covered her torso. Her pointe shoes were clutched in her hand as she rushed in, pushing past the door as she headed toward her class.

That day you went home and marched straight up to your mother, a flier clutched in your tiny hands. She said no at first, practically shattering your small heart. But without you knowing, she spent that month saving every cent she could, surprising you with a pair of ballet flats and admission to the dance studio.

From then on, your life centered around ballet.

At 17, you finally transitioned to Pointe after years of training. And once you laced the ribbons, you were unstoppable. Every time you were on stage, you were in your element. Glowing with potential.

Dancing is where you thrive. It’s where you belonged.

You studied abroad at Juilliard for four years, becoming the perfect ballerina you had strived to be. And when you returned, the Seoul Ballet Company practically begged you to dance for them.

You accepted the offer calmly, but deep down the little girl who had fallen in love with dance was screaming. You have finally achieved your dream.

You were perfect. Life was perfect. It was fulfilled, and you didn’t need anything more.

Right?

You had your fair share of relationships, but nothing ever serious. Not when your life centered around ballet. Your career was always the main reason your relationships ended, but you couldn't care less.

Men didn't make you happy, dance did.

And you knew that for a relationship to work, you would have to find someone just like you. Busy, determined, focused, perfect.

One night, after many glasses of wine, you realize your standards are extremely unrealistic.

Which, they are.

So you decided to give up on dating.

But often, when it’s late at night, you find yourself lonely. You thought about getting a cat, which you had been excited about. But your bitchy landlord didn’t allow it. So instead, you found comfort in watching old movies.

They came on after dark. The black and white glow illuminating your small living room. You would come home from practice, tossing your bag by the front door before jumping onto the couch. Snacks in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and your eyes glued to the flatscreen. You would stay up late, watching Audrey Hepburn explore Rome or enjoy a breakfast at Tiffany's until you fall asleep.

You’d wake up at 8:00 am, sluggishly getting ready for the gym before chugging your espresso. You’d work out, maybe some pilates or weight training, then grab some lunch. Sometimes you would come home and take a nap, sometimes you would hang out with friends, but often you found yourself lounging by the cafe.

People watching had became your favorite activity.

You’d sit in the uncomfortable metal chair, your chicken salad sandwich sitting untouched on the table in front of you, and you’d watch as people went about their day.

The cafe was placed across the street from a tall building full of luxury apartments, which you bet probably allowed cats. Yes, you were still bitter about that.

One specific day, when you were sitting in the familiar metal chair, you found yourself watching someone intently.

He was quickly walking down the sidewalk, carefully dodging people as he carried a brown bag full of groceries. You gasped as a stranger ran out in front of him abruptly, knocking his belongings to the floor.

You scoffed as the person he’d crashed into walked past, not even offering to help. And your feet almost moved on their own as you walked straight over to help him gather his groceries.

Little words were exchanged, “Thank you.” “You didn’t have to do that.” “Have a nice day.” You assumed he didn’t pay much attention to the interaction.

But you did.

There was something so captivating about him. Something so endearing that captured your attention, something you couldn’t quite describe.

Since then, you often hoped to see him again.

You just didn’t expect to see him in the front row at your ballet.

That was a surprise.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Pspspsps!” You rubbed your fingers together, bending down to the ground, “Come here, Elisabeth. Pspsps!”

The fluffy white cat came around the corner, eying you with skepticism as you motioned her to approach you. She was a sassy girl and didn’t fully trust you yet, but that didn’t bug you.

She was honestly intimidating.

You smile widely as she walks towards you, happy to finally make a connection with her. But as she walked past you without even a glance, you sighed, watching as she planted herself in front of your boyfriend's feet.

You stood up and rested your hands on your hips, "She'll love me one day." You watched as she rubbed against In-ho's legs, a quiet purr causing a small smile to form on your lips.

She is intimidating, but she sure is cute.

In-ho keeps his gaze on you, watching how you slightly pout at Elisabeth's adorable nature. His heart flutters, something that's becoming increasingly common in the last five months of your relationship.

It has been five months since your ankle fracture, which is now completely healed thanks to In-ho's firm instructions to rest. You honestly think he just didn't want you to leave his apartment, but you weren't complaining.

Five months since your shared kiss that ultimately changed both of your lives. You moved in after about three months, which turned out to be a great idea, despite everyone saying it was too soon. When he first brought up the question, you were skeptical. But as soon as he mentioned an in-unit washer and dryer, you took the key.

Your mother was concerned at first, especially about the age gap. But you brushed it off. In-ho was quite literally perfect for you, as were you for him. Age didn't matter to you when you both completed each other's heart.

The first thing you did when you moved in was decorate. Not his entire apartment, obviously, but you did go to Home Depot and buy a few plants.

Cat-safe, of course.

Once your ankle healed, you went back to dancing. And, just like before, every Friday In-ho would watch you practice. Though he doesn't sit in the back anymore, he sits front and center.

After your practice, he always gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, tulips. He would take your bag with his arm around yours, and you would walk to your apartment together.

Life was, simply put, perfect.

It was bliss. A happiness that was only obtained when you brought down your walls and let a stranger in. A stranger who captured your heart, mind, and everything in between.

When you first discovered his collection of old films and music, you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then. You knew you were perfect for each other already, but the shared interest solidified that.

Nights aren't lonely anymore. Not when your bed is shared by the man who you adore, and a fluffy white cat who is determined to sleep with you.

His arms are wrapped around you, your back pressed to his chest as he holds you tight. His head nuzzled into the back of your neck as he snores, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as you dream.

Your legs are tangled, intertwined under the covers as your hearts beat the same rhythm. Your hands are wrapped on top of his, the feeling of being in his arms familiar and comfortable. It would be impossible to sleep without each other, you both knew that.

So when In-ho sits you down on a warm June night and explains he has to leave for a work trip, you cry. I know, it's dramatic. But you had spent the last five months in each other's presence. Holding each other, kissing each other, making love on the very bed you sleep in together. Where you went, he followed. Where he traveled, you joined.

You needed him. He was the air that filled your lungs, giving you breath. He was the blood that flowed through your veins and pumped your heart, giving you life. He was your soul, your mind. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you knew it.

Vice versa, you were his whole being. He based every decision around you, around your future together. He's made sacrifices you couldn't even imagine. He went from letting the games be the center of his life, to you being the center of his universe.

You were all he could think about.

Important business meeting about the upcoming games? Forget it. In-ho is at home making Kimchi with you, having forgotten all about it.

Meeting with the V.I.P's? What meeting. In-ho is too busy indulging in his desire with his tongue deep in your core, a hand clamped around your throat.

You were his sole purpose on this earth. Where you walked, flowers bloomed behind you. Wherever you went, the sun would shine. In-ho felt he didn't deserve you. No, he knew he didn't deserve you.

He never told you that though. Of course, if he did, you would smack him upside the head, "Seven days? Where are they making you go?" You cried into his shoulder, your body resting on his lap as he sat back on the plush couch.

His heart breaks a little at the sound of your cries, his thumb brushing away the tears that fell, "I just have to host this private game. I'll be back so soon, I promise." Your cries didn't change, his shirt dampening as you snuggled deeper into his chest, "I will call you every chance I can. I promise."

You looked up at him, giving a pathetic sniffle as you spoke, "When do you leave?" You sit up fully now, straightening your top. He rubs his big hand over your arm, watching as goosebumps trail behind.

He looks up at you, a hand fiddling with your exposed bra strap, "Tomorrow morning." He sighs as he watches a pout form on your pretty mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"What do I do while you're gone?" You pull his hand from your face, holding it in your own as you play with his fingers.

In-ho hasn't failed to notice how his pants tightened since you've been sitting innocently on his lap, your hips slowly rocking as you sobbed into his shoulder moments ago. You knew it too. The second he played with your bra strap, the emotion in the air changed from angst to lust.

And if he was going to be gone for seven days, might as well enjoy the night, "Come here." His voice was low and demanding as he took his hand from your grasp, taking a hold of your side.

Your mouth parted as his hand moved down, softly caressing every curve of your perfect body. Though his eyes stayed peering into your own, watching your reaction to every touch.

He smirked as you gave a breathless gasp, his hand pinching your hip as you slowly grind your hips down. His hard cock rubbing against your desire raises an all-too-familiar feeling in the deep of your stomach.

Wordlessly, his hand comes behind you, laying you down on the couch as he stands up. Towering over your body as he unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes trail across every inch of exposed skin.

He moves between your legs, his hands coming to your face as he pulls you into a needy kiss. Your hands find his back, your fingers rubbing, digging into his skin as he fucks your mouth with his tongue.

He pulls away, breathlessly moving his hands down to the hem of your shirt. You watch with lustful eyes as he tugs your top up and over your head with one swift motion. His hands find your bare skin, pinching and squeezing your sides with hunger in his dark eyes.

Heat pools between your thighs, your hand sneaking under your panties as In-ho unhooks your bra swiftly. He leans back, taking you in awe as he trails his eyes over your body.

He gives a small laugh at the sight of your hand slowly fucking yourself, "Tsk, as much as I love seeing you do that, you will have seven days to do it. Tonight, you don't have to do a thing."

Your eyes snap open as he dips his hand under your panties and over your own, moving your hand up to your parted mouth. He pushes your hand towards your lips, a smirk evident on his own as he puts your delicate fingers inside your pretty mouth.

He sighs as you taste yourself, the heat becoming unbearable between your goose-bumped legs, "See how sweet you taste? Do you see why im starved all the time?" He kisses your jaw between his words, his hands slipping off your bottoms, your panties gone with it.

He stands again, tossing your clothes into a pile, his bottoms going with it. He towers over the couch, intimidating you like he did all those months ago.

You sit up, your small hands delicately reaching up and leaving tiny bolts of electricity on his abs as you trace down. You take your thumb, wiping the precum from his sensitive tip. His head falls back just from that touch alone, and as desperate as he is to see your lips swollen and wrapped around him, he remembers his promise.

You lean down, your lips centimeters away from his length when his strong hand pulls your chin up, "You aren't doing a thing, remember?" You whine, his strong arms laying you back down on the couch.

He comes between your legs again, lifting your hips up as he traces his cock between your pussy. The sound of your slick fills his ears, and a small "fuck" falls from his lips. It takes everything in you not to buck your hips, the need becoming irresistible as he lines himself up with your core.

He takes a hand and lifts your face, desperate to see your pretty eyes as he fucks into you. As he sinks in, the familiar feeling of ecstasy overtakes him as he stretches you.

He sets a rhythm, fucking you as he stares into your eyes, your eyebrows raised and mouth agape as your hips meet with a slap. His free hand comes behind your waist, supporting your legs as you meet his thrusts.

In-ho didnt fuck.

He made love.

And that shit was passionate as fuck.

His eyes never left yours. Not once. Not even when he places a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock deep in your womb. You, on the other hand, writhed beneath him. Your moans filling your shared apartment, mixing with the pornographic sounds from In-ho,.

Your head sank back into the couch, your hand coming to hold his own as he quickened his thrusts. His other hand that supported you moved to your clit, pressing and rubbing perfectly over your sensitive bud.

If there was one thing about In-ho, it's that he's determined to make you cum with him.

Every. Single. Time.

So when his hand reaches your clit, you know he's close, "In-ho, please- god. Please don't stop." You didn't yell or scream. Your voice was sultry, full of desire.

He throws a head back at your words, his warmth spilling deep into your womb with one final deep thrust as you clench around him. You meet him, finding your own ethereal as you reach your climax.

He whines with his thrusts as he slows down, emptying into your tight core, "When... when I'm gone." You furrow your eyebrows, catching your breath as he pulls out of you, "This next week, when I'm gone."

He lays with you on the couch, pulling you to lay on his chest, "Whenever you need me, I want you to use your pretty little fingers and fuck yourself while you think about this moment." You blushed, despite just taking his cock only a moment ago.

He brings his hand to your face, his thumb parting your lips, "Can you promise me that?" Your eyes slightly water, remembering why you were even crying in the first place.

"I promise." Your voice was a whisper, smiling up at In-ho as he kissed your forehead. You take a deep breath, realizing just how much he means to you. Just how much you need him.

If only you knew.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

An: I actually wrote most of this during my mom's colonoscopy LMFAO. Also, guys imma be so fr with you, I'm so tired lmao. But here! The long-awaited part 2 which is basically just fluff to smut lmao. I've never been one to really write part twos (I hate feeling like I HAVE to write because then it turns into a chore) BUT I actually enjoyed writing this one. Im gonna work through my requests and also please join my taglist! Love you guys!

@sxmmerchxldblog @bohemiandelilah @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen  @menabuser16 @speedymagazinewhispers @nellabear  @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers @lovelymindescape @macnbriee @rosegracewood09@gurjxxpp11 @shadow-tumbler @veiledsaint @rosyflowerss

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒕 𝒖𝒑

𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. smut, rough unprotected sex, arguments, age gap, degrading, slut taming, bratty attitude, choking, pain kink, anal play etc.

summary: sneaking into a club to prove your point that you’re brave enough to catch attention of other men. logan doesn’t like that- you’re his.

+700 𝑭𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵. 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉!!! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆!

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia

“You just couldn’t help yourself could you?” He grabbed your throat pressing you against the hood of his Chrysler. “N-no” you gripped his wrist gasping for breath. “Grindin and dancin against the desperate lil shits wantin attention huh?” you whimpered as you felt him against you. “I c-can’t breathe” running your red painted nails against his white button up touching his collar. Logan groaned slamming you on top of the hood. Your legs divided as he snuck between them hovering his upper body above you. His fingers firmly holding your throat. “Sluts like you crave just attention. Nothin good just a hole for cock” no longer caring he wanted to choke the shit out of you- hands grabbing a hold of his belt pulling him closer. “I don’t care” sneering as he slapped your cheek with his digits to make you look him deeply in his eyes and when you did you saw something dark. It straight travelled in your belly and your core. “You wet? Tell me, are you fucking wet from dancin and grindin like that?” you nodded giving him a smile. Still holding you down remaining in the same position he lit a cigar. And it was lazily hanging between his lips, the ash would drop on your chest giving you the littlest burn but gosh pain brought your pleasure and Logan was the same. He frankly got off better when you two were arguing and causing each other pain like you for example scratching his back until it bled or digging your nails into the sides of his neck as he fucked you.

Large hand grabbing fistful of your lacy panties which were drenched in your slick ripping yanking them off you with a harshest pull. You yelped, reaching for his belt sitting up as you looked him in the eyes taking his heavy cock out. He groaned as you gripped the base of him leaning down to suck on his angry swollen tip. The saltiness of his pre cum had your tastebuds dancing. He let out a soft sigh taking a hit of his cigar guiding you down on his cock holding your hair. You sucked with a moan leaving your lips until he had enough of your slutty whimpers making him harder needier for your drooling hole.

“Ya mine” the oldman pulled you off the hood of his limo bending you over it so harshly you cried out. Your naked ass to his view he smacked it so hard your toes nearly curled. Biting your lower lip your hands needed leverage so his suit jacket it was. Rubbing his cock between your ass cheeks bumping your back entrance several times pinching your left cheek he groaned hungrily debating whether you deserved pussy filling or some ass fucking for your behavior “please” you begged with a shaky voice, the dress clinging to your body as thin sheen of sweat covered you. “You beggin now?” Pressing your face down on the hood your cheek rested upon it- you spread your thighs ready for either the oldman rubbed the tip of his leaking cock on your back entrance again nearly breaking you in by pushing it inside- wanting to ruin your ass so badly but he ended up slamming in your delicious pussy. Groaning loudly at the feel of your wet hole coating him in your slick. You bit your lower lip shutting your eyes as you whimpered, his large hands pulling your ass out more as your thighs closed together. “Fuckin slut, my slut, howlett slut” he panted battering his cock in and out of you. You moaned gritting your teeth tasting your own blood as you bit your lower lip “dirty old man!!!” You moaned loudly wanting more of him. Gripping your hair with his large hand he pulled your head back leaning over you slamming his hips against your ass“Old man huh? That’s why you whimper like a needy slut on my cock” your lips were agape as you tilted your face to look at him. Suddenly he leaned his hands flat on the hood speeding up his hips snapping them into you the claps and harsh breathing absolutely gave you the rest as you started to cum. Lo followed right behind you making sure he’s slammed in you deeply as he came hovering above you as you held his jacket for leverage to actually keep yourself on your toes which curled as you screamed in pleasure. You felt him pulse and pulse until spilling his warmth in you with a gaspy moan. “I dare you to go back in there, you see these?” He groaned pushing his claws out. “I’m comin’ for blood if you ever pull some stupid shit on me again.” He breathed still buried deep in you slamming his lips against yours. You moaned against his lips wanting nobody just your old man.

-

Thank you for reading. Any mistakes or typos I deeply apologize.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Like a Moth to a Flame

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Logan Howlett is a dangerous man; at least, that's what he wants you to think when he first meets you during your shift at Lucky's. However, he only seems to prove the opposite as he becomes a more constant presence in your life. After learning his true identity in a dark back alley, he's certain you want nothing to do with him. But against your better judgment, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pairing: Lumberjack!Logan Howlett x Bartender!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, men being creepy in an alley, canon divergent (because fuck the timelines), mutual pining, miscommunication

Word Count: 3.4K

Author’s Note: I am overwhelmed with the love and support for my first Logan fic. This man has taken over my ever waking thought. I wrote this while picturing lumberjack Logan from X-Men Origins: Wolverine and listening to Hozier (this man is so "Too Sweet" and "NFWMB" coded). Super proud of how this turned out, hope you enjoy it.

You’re used to a rough-and-tumble, rough-around-the-edges kind of crowd — blue-collar workers, committed hunters, down-on-their-luck drifters. Maybe that’s why you don’t think twice when he enters the tiny dive bar. He’s clad in a deep maroon flannel tucked into a tattered pair of jeans. You don’t even look in his direction as he sidles into a seat at the end of the bar. He looks like any other patron you’ve met while bartending at Lucky’s. 

“Hey there, what can I get for you?”

He leans forward, forearms flexing against the counter. A shiver runs down your spine as your eyes linger on the deep scars etched in between his knuckles before traveling up his broad frame. It’s as if your fight or flight response kicks in, and suddenly, a voice in your head tells you to run. But as you finally meet his hazel eyes, you freeze. There’s a hollowness in how he looks at you — a profound sadness that makes your heart ache for the man sitting before you.

“Whiskey, neat.”

You simply nod at his request before turning to pour him a glass. As you place the drink before him, a flash of metal across his chest grabs your attention. The man follows your gaze, and his features harden at the realization of what caught your interest. He quickly shoves the dog tags hanging loosely around his neck under his shirt — out of your line of sight. Your cheeks instantly flush, humiliation washing over your body. You begin to apologize, but the man downs his glass of whiskey and slaps some cash on the table.

“Thanks for the drink.”

With that, he grabs his leather jacket off the back of his chair and stalks out of the bar. You watch him leave in stunned silence. You hadn’t meant to invade his privacy in any way. You’re used to the anonymity that some men around here need to survive — hell, you don’t even know the names of some of your regulars. Before you can get swallowed up by embarrassment, one of your other patrons calls for another drink. Shaking off your previous interaction, you return your attention to your job.

After work, you couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter. With a deep sigh, you pour yourself a drink and collapse into your couch. You don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about it. In reality, you probably won’t ever see the man again, which should relieve you; however, the thought only disappoints you.

To your surprise, he walks back into the bar three days later during your shift. You try to ignore his presence as he moves to sit at the same spot at the end of the bar. To make amends, you pour a glass of whiskey and set it in front of him.

“This one’s on the house.”

The man looks up, giving you a confused expression. He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off.

“Don’t. It’s just an apology for the other night.”

He gives you a nod before grabbing the glass and taking a long drink. You turn away from him, but his deep voice cuts through the rowdy Friday night crowd before you can take a step.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I still expect a tip, though.”

A chuckle reverberates in his chest. The sound of it causes your face to light up. The man’s lips pull up into a small, gentle smile. You force yourself to return to work before you get further drawn into him. Unlike the other night, he sits at the bar for the rest of your shift, ordering several glasses of whiskey and keeping his eyes trained on the television above your head.

“It’s the end of my shift. Ready to close out with me?”

Logan nods, downing the rest of his whiskey and then placing several bills on the counter.

“Keep the change.”

“Wow, thank you…” 

You trail off, realizing you still haven’t learned his name. Looking down at the money he placed before you, you notice he’s tipped you at least fifty percent. You don’t want to invade his privacy again, but a part of you wishes you knew his name so that you could thank him properly.

“Logan.”

“Thank you, Logan.”

He stands up from his seat before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“You working tomorrow?”

You bite your lip at his words, trying to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. Trying to ground yourself back into reality, you remind yourself that you don’t fraternize with your clientele. While working at Lucky’s, you’ve learned one thing about the men who frequent the establishment — they’re bad news. But then you look back up at him. He’s got to be over six feet tall; his simple white t-shirt accentuates just how broad his body is, and yet this sturdy, well-built man looks almost nervous standing before you. Your body responds before your brain can catch up.

“My shift starts at 6:00.”

Logan slides his leather jacket on, and a slight smirk spreads across his features. He’s a devastatingly handsome man, and you’re no better than a moth to a flame — irresistibly attracted to that which you know will hurt you. 

“See you then.”

And you do see him during your shift the next day, and your shift after that, and the one after that. Logan’s there in his seat at the end of the bar during all of your shifts, ordering whiskeys and making polite conversation until he’s become a constant presence in your life. 

Today is no different. You have a glass of whiskey ready for Logan when he enters the bar. His schedule with the town’s logging company is pretty consistent. Logan accepts the glass graciously as you slide it in front of him. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You ignore how nonchalantly the term of endearment slips past his lips — and how your heart lurches as he says it. Instead, you focus on his features, which somehow look more exhausted than usual today. His work is hard, long, and labor-intensive; however, throughout your conversations with the hardened lumberjack, you’ve also learned that Logan’s sleep schedule is abysmal.  He’s a grown man; he can decide what he wants to do — or doesn’t want to do — but a part of you can’t help but want to care for him.

“You gotta get some sleep, Logan.”

He scoffs in response, looking up at you with tired eyes. You know he isn’t angry at your suggestion, but the pointed look he gives you is a warning. He’s opened up quite a bit throughout his frequent visits to the bar, but there is still an air of mystery about the man sitting before you. You know better than to push him, so you raise your hands defeatedly.

“All I’m saying is that those dark circles do nothing for that handsome face.”

A warm laugh reverberates in Logan’s chest. He takes a long drink from his glass before responding, downing a considerable amount of whiskey with absolutely no reaction.

“You think I’m handsome?”

You roll your eyes at the man, trying to keep your cool. Logan is an enigma to you — simultaneously socially awkward and overly flirtatious. It’s as if he has two personalities — two completely different sides of himself — fighting for dominance at all times. And yet, it works because he’s catastrophically charming. 

“Shut up.”

A smug smirk spreads across Logan’s face, and you decide it’s getting a little too stuffy in the small dive bar. You grab the pack of cigarettes you keep stashed under the bar and turn back to Logan. He already knows what you’re about to ask. It’s become routine for Logan to join you during your fifteen-minute break, sharing cigarettes in the secluded alley behind the bar.

“I’m going for a smoke. You coming?”

“Let me finish my drink. I’ll be right out.”

You nod at him before moving towards the back door. As you step out into the alley, you’re met with a much-appreciated, cool breeze. It causes a shiver to run down your spine as your body adjusts to the sudden difference in temperature. After placing a cigarette between your lips, you pull a small silver lighter out of your back pocket. You slide your thumb over the engraving on the side: L.H. Logan had given you the lighter after yours burnt out about a month ago. You tried to give it back, but he insisted you keep it. You bring the lighter up to your face, but a voice surprises you before you can light your cigarette. 

“Those things’ll kill you, sweetheart.”

A man you’ve never seen before emerges from the darkness and approaches you with an uncomfortable air of familiarity. The way this man says Logan’s term of endearment makes you sick to your stomach. It sounds sweet coming from Logan’s lips — grounded in a deep respect and laced with affection. 

You were simply going to ignore him, knowing Logan’s presence would deter him in a matter of minutes; however, your body bristles as two more figures join him from the darkness of the alley. Your body moves on its own accord, seeking the comfort and safety of the bar — of Logan. But the man closest to you grabs your arm before you can step out of their reach.

“Where you going, sweetheart? The party’s out here.”

His voice is sickly sweet and dripping with venom — a stark contrast to Logan’s low, warm timbre. The two men behind him laugh at his words. Your fight or flight response kicks in, and you struggle against the man’s hold as you’re hit with the gravity of your situation.

“Just let me go.”

Your voice is stern as you rip your arm away from the man’s grip. You rush to get away, but he’s quicker. He places both hands on the brick wall behind you, caging you in. Now you’re panicking. A threatening growl interrupts the encounter before the man in front of you can say anything else, and Logan emerges from the darkness. His features are menacing in the dim light of the alley, but you’re met with a sense of relief rather than fear.

“You heard her. Let her go.”

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck raise at the sound of his voice; however, the stranger in front of you doesn’t seem to find him as frightening. Instead of backing down, the man lets out a dry, unamused laugh at Logan’s words.

“We’re just having some fun here.”

Bile rises in your throat at the insinuation in his tone. Logan seems equally displeased by his response as another animalistic growl rips through his body. He takes an intimidating step forward before speaking.

“You don’t want to do this, bub.”

It’s almost as if he’s pleading with them — begging them to stop so that he doesn’t have to act first. Your eyes find those dog tags hanging around his neck again. Your heart breaks as you realize Logan doesn’t want to fight, but he will — for you. Based on the look in his eyes, he’ll rip these men apart limb from limb if they lay a hand on you. 

“No, buddy, you don’t want to do this. You’re outnumbered — three to one. You don’t stand a chance.”

The man’s tone is amused but impatient. He’s itching for Logan to either leave them be or throw the first punch, but he does neither. Instead, Logan squares his shoulders and extends his arms out at his sides.

“You sure about that?”

Your brow furrows at an unfamiliar sound — a strange, metallic snikt. You’re surprised when the man’s arms fall from either side of your shoulders. You take the opportunity to create distance between yourself and the group of men who are all staring at Logan. Not understanding what caused their sudden hesitation, you also look over at Logan. Your body tenses at the sight of him standing in the middle of the alley with long, metal claws protruding from his fists. He takes another step forward, and the men scatter, running for their lives. 

Logan waits a few moments, ensuring that the men are actually gone. Then he lets out a deep sigh as his metal claws retract back into his hands. Your hands meet the cool brick behind you, grounding you in this incredibly unreal moment. You blink, expecting to wake up from whatever dream you’re having right now — but you’re not dreaming.

Logan finally turns to face you, and his features soften. His eyes scan your body, checking you over for injuries. He takes a step toward you but stops as you take a step toward the bar's back door. You can’t seem to look away from his hands — at those deep, pronounced scars between his knuckles. His eyes follow yours, and you’re met with instant regret as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You finally look up at his face and are anguished at the sight of his hardened features.

You want to tell him a million things. Your body moved on its own accord. You didn’t mean to stare at his scars. You’re just confused. You’re grateful for his help. You’re not afraid of him.

But you don’t mutter a single word. It’s as if you’re frozen in place. 

“Alright.”

Your heart almost breaks in two at the pained sound of his voice. Logan meets your eyes one last time, disappointment evident in his gaze. Finally, your body shakes out of its paralysis, but it’s too late — the damage has already been done. You watch helplessly as he begins walking away from you. 

“Logan, wait.”

But he doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking until he vanishes into the darkness. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks as you slide down against the brick wall — partly because of what could have happened and partly because of what did happen. And just like the first day you met Logan, you fear you may never see him again. 

But once again, you were wrong. 

Eight unbearably long days later, Logan enters Lucky’s again. You watch his bated breath as he approaches, hoping he’ll sit at his usual spot at the end of the bar. Instead, Logan places a few bills on the counter before meeting your gaze. You draw in a shaky breath as you look into his hazel eyes — the hollowness is back, and our heart aches as you realize you’re now the reason behind that sadness. 

“Didn’t feel right not closing out last time.”

You almost laugh at his words — the free glass of whiskey was the last thing on your mind. He rolls his shoulders back nervously, his muscles flexing under his black t-shirt. You reach out and grab his hand before he can pull it away from the counter. His eyes instantly widen, but the physical contact seems to make him relax ever so slightly.

“Can we talk, please?”

Your hand tightens around his, physically begging him to just stay. Logan nods in silent agreement. You pull your hand away from his and try to push down the sudden disappointment caused by the loss of his touch. You move toward the back door, and Logan follows you into the alley from a safe distance. For a moment, you’re lost in a bout of deja vu as you lean against the brick wall, and Logan stands before you. Your hands nervously find Logan’s lighter in your pocket, looking for something to occupy yourself with. The movement catches Logan’s eyes, and you swear the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile at the sight of his lighter in your hands. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words tumble out of you clumsily. Logan’s brow furrows, and you watch as his head tilts slightly to the side. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

Logan’s lips pull into a small frown as he considers your apology. He takes a cautious step forward, watching you intently. He’s waiting for you to pull away, but you stand your ground.

“Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?” 

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face. Hearing him say that name — the word that’s been keeping you up at night — you realize just how much you missed the sound of his voice.

“I made you think I’m afraid of you.”

Logan takes another step forward, testing you. You know what he’s trying to do — he’s giving you an out. Pull away, and he’ll stop, but you lock eyes with the man before you. His movements might be cautious, but his eyes are wild with unspoken emotion.

“Well, are you?”

“No.”

Another step forward. He’s now standing within arm’s length. You could reach out and touch him. God, you want to reach out and touch him. Logan looks down at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. No man has ever looked at you like this, but then again, Logan certainly isn’t like any other man. 

“You should be.”

That voice from the first day you met him appears yet again, telling you to run. But you stay put. You don’t need to run from him. You don’t need to fear him. He protected you from those men. He was prepared to fight for you. He revealed his true identity to keep you safe. And once again, you’re like a moth to his flame — gravitating towards him.

“I’m not afraid of you, Logan. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s a breath away, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze moves from your eyes to your lips. His hand covers yours, stopping your anxious fidgeting with his lighter. You watch in awe as he takes it from your grasp and places it into your jacket pocket. He moves his hand out of your pocket; his fingers leave a scorching sensation behind in their absence as they slide across your skin until they reach your waist. His other hand comes up and tenderly caresses the side of your face.

“Say it again.”

Your breath hitches at his request, but you do what he asks — hell, you’d do anything for him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan shakes his head. His hand moves to take hold of the other side of your waist. The grip he has on you is secure but gentle.

“No, sweetheart. Not that part.”

Oh. Oh.

You could cry at the realization — at his need to feel wanted and appreciated. You move your hands to either side of his face. He melts into your touch before meeting your eyes again. A part of you wonders if anyone has ever touched Logan like this — if he’s ever known what physical contact feels like outside of a fight.

“I’m not afraid of you, Logan. I trust you.”

And suddenly, Logan is pulling you into him. His lips desperately find yours. Your fingers thread through his hair as his body pushes you into the brick wall. His movements are rooted in a deep hunger — not driven by lust, but in a need to be known and loved and touched. So that’s just what you do. Your hands move through his hair, down his neck, across his chest, over his back. You attempt to touch every bit of Logan to prove that you want this — that you want him. 

A low growl reverberates in his chest as he pulls away from your lips. Unlike the night before, this growl isn’t rooted in anger but, instead, the result of a deep desire. His hands move away from your body and find the wall behind you. Your brow furrows at the loss of his touch until you hear a familiar sound on either side of you — a sharp, metallic snikt. He leans down, forehead resting against yours as his short, rapid breaths fan over your face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t control it sometimes.”

You shake your head at his admission. He did control himself — he purposely removed his hands from your body before his claws extended. He protects you as if it’s just his second nature — something he doesn’t even need to take the time to consider. You run your hands up his chest, feeling the tense muscles under his t-shirt, before gently grabbing his face.

“Hey. Hey.”

You pull away slightly so you can look him in the eye. Your words grab his attention, grounding him.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I trust you.”

His breaths gradually even out, and eventually, you hear his claws retract and feel the familiar warmth of his touch against your skin again. As Logan maintains eye contact, looking at you as if you’re the answer to some unspoken prayer, you begin to think you’ve gotten this all wrong: maybe you’re not the moth, but the flame.

[v1x3n]

COD MEN AND THEIR FIRST DATE WITH YOU

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY — your first actual date would be at his, he has set his living room up in soft blankets and the coffee table cluttered in snacks and fizzy drinks. the lights turned off as he guides you to the couch, the tv turned on and your favorite movie paused. he mumbles something about wanting to make you feel better after you had a shitty week. a smile grows on your mouth as you settle into the sofa, watching your favorite film. his attention isnt much on the movie, his eyes linger on your glowing smile, and he thinks to himself; fuck, youre so pretty right now. after the film, he orders take away and you two chatter, putting on a random series for backround noise. soon it gets very late and you leave his house, fed and happy. but before you leave he receives a kiss on the cheek and a very happy thank you.

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MCTAVISH — he definitely does something wacky, but makes sure you likes it ofc. his ideal first date would be bowling maybe something along that line. at the start he goes easy on you, purposely missing some of the pins or throwing the ball weakly. but after a bit maybeee he gets a little competitive, striking all the pins st once - earning a gasp from you. ofc you aren't going to be as good as him but you still try and he can see that. when you ended up getting all of the pins, you spin around as he smirks at you and gives you a cheeky well done. in the end, he won, obviously. you almost passed him though! heading to Nando's after, you two yap the entire time until finishing your meals. he obviously goes with something hot to impress you, but when his lips go bright red and he curses, grabbing his coke and chugging the whole thing - you burst out laughing. you give his swollen lips a peck when he drives you home.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK — takes you too a bar, buys a few drinks for the two of you. not enough to get you pissed but enough to get you a little tipsy. chattering and giggling between the two of yous while you order some chips and a burger. its quite casual, but the both of you like it like that. you told him he didn't need to take you somewhere proper and fancy, the local pub - well maybe a nicer pub - would do. after he walks you home, yapping together and soft smiles while you slightly shiver in the cold air. noticing the hairs on your arms rising and the hitch in your breath when a gust of freezing air blows past the two of you. he snorts and takes his jacket off, laying it over your shoulders when he grumbles a quick, 'ere'. when you get to your house, he brings his arms up and down yours, warming you up the slightest. after kissing the top of your head - you kiss the corner of his mouth. then your two mouths connect in a small peck, blushing instantly. he silently cheers himself on once your door shuts in his face - celebrating that he just kissed a gorgeous girl.

JOHN PRICE — always listens to everything you ever say, you mention you like this one restaurant? oh? its your favourite? hes taking you there. you smile up at him when he drives you to the familiar parking lot, telling him you love this place! his cheery smile when you two go inside and sits opposite you. ordering off the menu and giving you subtle looks when your eyes scan through the familiar menu. he orders for you when the waiter comes over and your cheeks slightly blush at that. he speaks up that your outfit is gorgeous and tells you that your hair looks so nice, your blush creeps across your cheeks. face heating up as you see his gaze travel to the smile that plasters onto your face. once you have tea, he makes sure to take you somewhere else after - make a night outa it. he takes you to walk down the beach after, the moonlight shining off of your face as you two talk about the most randomist of things. he spoke about his job, and you told him about yours. nearing the end you two walk back up to the car, and he drives you home. before you leave you peck him on the cheek to thank him for the date, telling him you hoped the second date could come soon. john watches you walk down your front garden - unlocking the door. making sure you get in okay. dreaming about the second date.

PHILLIP GRAVES — took you to the cinema, you had mentioned that you wanted to see this film... so here you are. he had bought you the nice chairs, the ones that had extra cup holders and the fabric was more comfortable. you reminded him it was okay and he didn't haf too but he didn't listen obviously. once you got there he instantly moved the armrest between yous up so you two could be closer! he buys you sweets and popcorn from a local shop, as many as you want he told you. with a carrier bag full of just utter shit, you two enjoy the movie he picked. well, you enjoy it - his eyes are mainly on you, the twitches in your face when something sad or happy happens and the way you struggle to sit in a position were all so cute to him. throughout the movie he tries to gain enough courage to wrap his arms around your waist or at least his shoulders. yeah he was normally a confident guy but something about you just made him all fluttery and nervous. once successfully wrapping his arm around your waist, you snuggle towards him and embrace his warmth. he smiles at that. spilt popcorn on the floor and the movie credits roll, you both stand up and snort at the mess on both your laps. wiping off the remains of the bag of popcorn, you two walk out and yap about the movie. safe to say he didn't have much input.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙸 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚂𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸𝚝

The lads men and their nuerospicy adhd/add reader A/N: Your mental health matters and don't sacrifice it for anyone. These are a few things I deal with. Everyone's experience with adhd/add is different. [Requested by: luxis-journal]

Time Blocking

I have to be there by 5:30pm, but I need to shower and do my makeup so I need at least 2 or 3 hours for that, but I should give myself time so im not rushing because I hate being rushed and I know I'm gonna want to eat before I go so I should make time for that and picking out an outfit will take some time so I need to start getting ready at like 11am you know incase there’s traffic and im not rushing

Zayne doesn’t question it and just gets ready in 30 minutes while you still run around getting dressed Rafayel rushes you just to piss you off and immediately regret it when you tell him to leave without you because you’re not going anymore Xavier when you tell him the rundown of your getting ready time he’s confused until he wakes up an hour before you need to leave and you’re still getting ready Sylus happily just watches you get dressed while he’s still in bed

ADD/ADHD Pause

That moment when you need to turn the lights off, but you need to grab your car keys off the kitchen counter, but your jacket is still in your room so you can’t turn the room light off just yet and you need to grab your travel mug from the fridge so now you’re just stutter stepping in one spot trying to do everything at once

Zayne tells you to grab your drink while he grabs everything else Rafayel puts his hands on your shoulders and directs into your room to grab your jacket and then asks what else needs to be done Xavier quietly grabs everything for you Sylus grabs your chin, tilting it up to look at him and simply says “One thing at a time sweetie”

Nightly/Tired Zoomies

Hysterically laughing at anything and thinking of everything funny that’s ever made you laugh right before bed or when you get tired. Crackhead energy.

Zayne sweetly smiles while you tire yourself out and cuddles you when you lay down and pass out in his arms Rafayel is cackling with you and not just laughing, but also adding onto the jokes you both end up laughing until you’re in tears Xavier he’s already knocked out while you’re still up laughing at videos on your phone Sylus teases you the entire time which only makes you laugh more then makes you lay down because he knows you’re just sleepy

Non-verbal and/or Overstimulated

Those moments when you just don’t feel like talking and everything is pissing you off especially unnecessary noises

Zayne leaves you be and just sends you texts to check on you. Turns on your favorite show when he’s about to eat so you don’t yell at him for making too much noise Rafayel still wants your attention so he just lays on you hoping it would make you feel better. it works for a while until the sound of his breathing starts irritating you “Why are you breathing so loud?” “Im sorry for being alive??” Xavier leaves you alone and just leaves you little snacks in case you get hungry he knows you’ll come talk to him when you’re ready Sylus simply texts you when you don’t feel like speaking sends the twins in to see how irritable you are because if you get snappy with them he knows you’ll bite his head off

Vocal Stimming

A new random sentence or song snippet every week from “FLINT LOCKWOOD” to “Say its fine (fiiiinneee) happens all the time” to just random noises when the silence is silencing too much

Zayne just looks at you and goes on about his day Rafayel gets them stuck in his head now he’s randomly saying it too Xavier questions it “Where did that come from?” Sylus just lets you do your thing chuckles from time to time because he finds it cute

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 2

Part two of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: social anxiety, self-doubt, drinking

A month. You didn't go back to the bar for a full month. Avoided the place like it was the birthplace of the plague. And it was to you. You didn't want to run the risk that they were there again, that the man in the mask would berate you for making eye contact with him that night despite knowing he'd probably forgotten about you 30 seconds after. Social anxiety was a bitch.

But they were there. EVERY. FUCKING. FRIDAY.

Ghost thought he was going to lose his mind. The others had started to think he'd imagined you or had a hallucination of you. So when they sat down on the fifth Friday, there wasn't a mention of you from them. Simon still kept his eye out for you.

Surely a month was long enough that they'd have moved on, gotten bored with the dark, dingy bar and the same crowd every Friday. Arriving with your friends, your heart was in your throat and there was a swirl of nausea in your stomach.

They're not here. They're not here. They're not here.

The mantra was on repeat, but you couldn't help checking the back table anyway. You froze where you were standing as your eyes landed on the four larger men, your friend bumping into your back and asking what was wrong. You shook your head and gave her a weak smile, claiming you thought you saw someone.

You took your usual seat at the bar, tucked into the far corner where you could see the table of men and watched as your own friends filtered out onto the floor again. It was so easy for them to just introduce themselves to men, flirt their way to free drinks and possibly a nice little one night stand.

Ghost clocked you the moment the bell above the door dinged pathetically against the wood door and you walked in with three of your friends including the little blonde that informed them that you would be there every Friday. His gloved hand reached out and smacked Soap center chest, incidentally grabbing everyone's attention at the table as well.

"That her, LT?" Soap asked, eyes darting between his lieutenant and you. Soap eyed you for a moment, taking in the open scoop neck long sleeve shirt and the swell of your breasts that weren't hidden very well.

"Tha's 'er. Pretty thing, hm?" Ghost replied before picking up his glass and knocking it back, mouth suddenly dry as the Sahara. You were as pretty as he remembered and the urge to have a picture of you with him at all times roared to life in his chest.

Gaz being on the end gave him the best view of you, taking in the jeans that hugged your plump hips and ass. He could also see the way you held your jacket over your stomach to hide your belly as best you could.

Price could tell you were uncomfortable, watching you watch your friends with a hint of resentment and disdain in your eyes. He hadn't missed that all of your friends were "conventionally beautiful" and he could see that it bothered you.

"Go get her," Price suggested to Gaz, nudging him a bit as he knew Gaz was the proper man to send. You'd never come over if any of the rest of them approached you. Ghost made a disgruntled noise, looking to his captain for a brief moment of silent communication before he nodded, conceding to his superior.

You ordered your whiskey, sipping on it as you flipped between checking on your friends and scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You couldn't help but to let your eyes flick up from the dim screen to check on the table in the corner every once in a while.

Which was where your eyes were now, but there was one missing, the pretty one. Oh, he wasn't missing. He was settling himself against the stool next to you, looking down at you with those molten eyes of his and a friendly smile. "Come join us for a drink. Promise we won't bite. Well, I make no promises about Johnny."

Yup. I did a part two. This is really speaking to me right now for some reason.

Hope you guys liked it!

<- Part One Part Three ->