#I like to drink my little drinks :( but no drink today :(

[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P5)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: its been tough day today y'all #Ihateexams (projecting in this chpt idk if you can tell BAHAHA). Also I'm sorry for the late update 😬. My poor girl y/n idk if things can get any worse than this tbh..? (or can they....)

warnings: smoking, weed, drinking, a strip club, naked women, harassment, mention of sex, crying, aggressive behaviour (shoving/shouting), mentions of domestic abuse.

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5)

Y/N stood at the sink, scrubbing at a plate with slow, methodical circles. The warm water ran over her hands, the sound of it filling the quiet kitchen. It was almost unsettling... the quiet. Usually, the house was filled with slurred shouting, breaking bottles, slamming drawers or the heavy silence of a man passed out on the couch. But today?

Today, Luke was standing right next to her, drying the dishes.

Just a towel in his hands, stacking plates in uneven piles as she placed them onto the drying rack. It wasn’t much- but it was sober. He was sober. Maybe a little hungover, his face drawn into a small tired frown, but he wasn’t slurring his words, wasn’t swaying on his feet. That alone made her stomach twist.

“You been out a lot lately,” 

“I’ve been working.”

Luke commented, voice rough from sleep or whiskey- probably both she couldn't differentiate between the two anymore. Y/N hummed, placing another plate on the drying rack. He let out a low exhale, rubbing the towel over a glass. 

“That’s good… keeping busy.” 

A pause. 

“JJ doin’ alright?”

Her hands faltered just slightly before she continued clearing her throat, “Yeah. He’s- good.”

Luke nodded, setting the glass down with a quiet clink, running a hand over his face. It was such a normal thing, a simple chore, standing here washing dishes with her dad. It should’ve been a small moment like it was for so many other people, something forgettable, something easy. She could feel the way her chest ached, feel the way she wanted to hold onto this moment, just for a little while- mind floating back to when she was younger and he’d take her and JJ on fishing trips with him, make them crappy, burnt pancakes for breakfast. But she couldn’t help the instinct of keeping her walls up, watching him from the corner of her eye, waiting for the moment the calm shattered, for reality to crash back down.

Because with Luke, it always did.

The kitchen was now quiet, except for the clink of dishes and the hum of the old ceiling fan overhead. The dim light cast long shadows across the counters, stretching out between them. Y/N wiped her hands on the rag, dishes now washed, her gaze still flickered to Luke drying the last dish. The silence had been hanging heavy; she could feel it pressing down on her shoulders, waiting to crack open. And then, without looking up, Luke muttered, 

“Better not be lying.”

Y/N’s hands froze still gripping onto the rag in her hands, she blinked once, twice, before glancing over at him. 

“What?”

Luke finally looked at her, his eyes sharp, unreadable, “about working”. Y/N felt her pulse quicken. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, even as she slowly pulled her hands towards the sink, wiping it with the rag. 

“I work at the country club.”

Luke huffed, tossing the dish towel he was using onto the counter. “Yeah-” He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

“You sure?”

“Yes- you think I’m dealing dru—?”

“-I think you’re my kid, and I know what it looks like when someone’s keeping secrets.” 

He cut in but his voice wasn’t raised, it didn’t need to be. It was threatening enough as it was. Y/N inhaled sharply through her nose, her grip tightening around the cloth in her hands. She wanted to snap back, wanted to tell him to fuck off, that shes the only reason they still had a roof over their heads and food in the fridge- but there was something in his tone, in the way he was watching her, that made it harder to breathe. She swallowed hard. 

“I told you,” she said, voice quieter now, “I’m a waitress and sometimes... I clean”

 “I hope so.”

Luke stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. Y/N’s stomach twisted. He dropped the dish cloth onto the counter and walked over to the fridge, cracking it open and grabbing a bottle of beer. Then he walked away without another word, leaving her standing there, heart pounding, hands fisting the material of her t-shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The club was louder than usual tonight, the air thick with sweat and smoke. Y/N felt the exhaustion settling deep in her bones, dragging at her every step. It had been a long week- too long. She picked up an extra shift at the country club and seemed to be coming to the club every evening, so all she wanted was to get through the night without any more bullshit but, of course, that was too much to ask.

“Aw c’mon sweetheart, give me a smile.”

Y/N barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She forced a tight-lipped grin instead, just enough to appease the drunk tourist slouched in front of her. He looked like the type who had never stepped foot in a place like this before, all sunburnt and sloppy, his polo shirt wrinkled from a day of drinking. “Just trying to get past sugar” she said, voice smooth but empty. The guy let out a loud, obnoxious laugh and leaned in closer. 

“And I’m just trying to have a little fun, sugar”

Y/N’s fingers twitched at her sides. She could feel the sweat sticking to her skin, the air suddenly feeling too thick, too suffocating. She spoke out to the man, keeping her tone light even though she could feel her patience fraying.

“I’m sure there are plenty of other girls who’d love to entertain you,” 

The man clucked his tongue, tilting his head as his eyes went down to stare at her chest- tits being pushed up by a leopard print bra- before noticing the slight frown on her brow. 

“Don’t be like that. You’re too pretty to have a face like that.”

Her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head at his comment. She didn’t want to deal with this tonight. Not after the week she’d had. Not after— the man reached out, just barely brushing his fingers against her waist. It was light, barely anything. But it was enough for Y/N to take a sharp step back, her bracelets jingling at the sound, heart kicking up into her throat. She said, her voice sharper now,

“Don’t touch me”

“Whoa, relax, baby. No need to get all worked up.”

The guy raised his hands like he was innocent, like she was the one making a scene. Y/N swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Her nails dug into her palms, her entire body stiff as she fought to keep herself together as she walked over to an empty booth but she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. She sank into the empty booth, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes- trying not to smudge her mascara- as she tried to shake off the lingering tension from the encounter. Her pulse was still thrumming too fast, her body coiled tight. She just needed a second- just a second to breathe.

“Hey”

A soft voice pulled her back. Y/N blinked up to see Bambi standing there, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her head tilted in concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Y/N exhaled, nodding quickly. Bambi didn’t look convinced. She slid into the seat across from her, watching her carefully. “Maybe you should take a break Bunny…” Y/N shook her head before she could even think about it. 

“No, he was just an asshole. I’m fine.”

Bambi sighed, reaching out to rub Y/N’s arm lightly. Her voice dropped, softer now. “C’mon, don’t be like this, okay? Just take the rest of the night off. It’s dead in here anyway.” Y/N hesitated, her gaze flickering up to the small digital clock on the wall.

1:37 AM.

She could technically leave. The money tonight hadn’t been great, but she wasn’t sure she had the energy to keep pushing through either. “I don’t know…” she muttered. Bambi didn’t wait for her to make a decision. She just stood up, nodding her head toward the back. 

“C’mon.”

Y/N followed her into the dressing room, the fluorescent lights making everything feel a little too bright. Bambi shuffled through her bag, muttering under her breath, until she finally pulled something out and turned back to Y/N. She watched as Bambi pressed a small joint into her palm.

“Take the night off” 

Y/N stared down at it for a moment before her fingers curled around it. Maybe just this once couldn’t hurt? Y/N stepped out of the club, her bag now  slung over her shoulder as she zipped up her hoodie against the cool night air. The parking lot was mostly empty, the neon glow from the club’s sign casting long, eerie shadows across the pavement.

It was one of those rare nights that Rafe didn’t show up, and for once, she felt relieved. The last time she saw him was at the country club that night- so it's not like she was eager to see him again. But it was odd, him not being there. In all these past few weeks he’d been getting under her skin more than usual, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with his shit tonight anyways. Always in the background, always watching, always pushing- she couldn’t deny that it was starting to get to her. So maybe it was good that he wasn't there... She let out a slow breath as she made her way towards her car thinking about getting home, showering, and forgetting this night- this week- ever happened. But then she saw it.

Something fluttering against her windshield. Her brows pulled together as she got closer, her stomach twisting in irritation before she even knew what it was. And sure enough—

“What the fuck?”

A goddamn parking ticket

Y/N snatched it off the glass, scoffing as she scanned over the bullshit fine. She always parked here. She never got ticketed. But apparently, one of her tires was inches over the line, and that was enough for some asshole cop to give her a fine?

“Fucks sake” 

She muttered, shoving the ticket into her bag as she yanked her car door open. She threw herself into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut a little harder than necessary. Just one more thing, one more headache. She dumped her bag into the passenger seat before her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles tight, her jaw locked.

She just needed to get out of here.

Yet she couldn’t figure out if she was thinking of the club parking lot- or the island in general. Y/N let out a slow breath, her head falling back against the headrest. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, just long enough to let the exhaustion settle in her bones. Surprisingly, sitting alone in her car with the world muffled behind closed doors was hitting her all at once. She exhaled again, longer this time, before reaching up to tug at her earrings. The hoops clinked softly as she dropped them into the cupholder. Then came the rings, the thin ones stacked over her fingers, and finally the bracelets- the million little silver chains and beads that lined her wrists.

Her eyes flickered down.

A deep, ugly bruise was forming just beneath the faint imprints the bracelets had left behind. It had been a few days, but the color was still harsh- fading from deep purple to that sickly yellow-green. A reminder of her father's hold over her life, even when he wasn’t around. Her fingers ghosted over it and she swallowed looking away. Her gaze landed on the joint in the cupholder instead, its paper crinkled slightly from being shoved into her palm earlier. She thought about it. Thought about lighting up, about just forgetting for a little while and falling into the muffled haze she hasn’t been in for a while, but before she could, the screen of her phone lit up in her lap.

JJ (10)

She sighed, unlocking her phone with tired fingers.

JJ  :  yo 

JJ  :  are you coming to the bonfire tonight y/n? 

JJ : I literally told the gang ur coming

JJ  :  bruh 

JJ  :  answer ur phoneeeee

JJ  :  seriously?????

JJ  :  i've seen you like twice this week and its literally Saturday 

JJ  :  where are you 

JJ  :  you never spend time with me anymore what is going on with you

JJ : ?

Her grip tightened on the phone slightly before she groaned, tossing it onto the passenger seat and dragging a hand down her face. JJ was having a go at her- she was the older sibling wasn’t it meant to be the other way around? Did he really think she was choosing to distance herself from him- she’s the only one keeping their family afloat and now she’s getting punished by him too. She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek as she jammed the key into the ignition, shifting the car into reverse.

The tires screeched slightly against the pavement as she pulled out of the parking lot, gripping the wheel a little too hard. She sighed through her nose, stretching her fingers along the steering wheel. The hum of the engine was the only thing filling the silence, and it was too heavy, so she reached for the radio flicking the knob with her thumb. Nothing. She twisted it again but still nothing. Her eye twitched as she muttered, smacking the side of the console in frustration. 

"Stupid piece of shit" 

Yet the radio stayed stubbornly dead, leaving her with just the sound of her own breathing and the occasional rattle of the engine. The Cut blurred past her windows as she drove, the streetlights casting flickering shadows across the road. Her fingers drummed against the wheel, her body still buzzing with the exhaustion of the night. As she sat in silence driving she couldn’t help but mull over the question in her mind- and then it hit her

She didn’t want to go home.

Why the hell would she? Home was where all her problems were. Where her dad’s temper sat in the walls like cigarette smoke, where she could still hear the echoes of slammed doors and broken bottles. No, she couldn’t go back there- she didn’t want to. Her fingers tightened around the wheel, knuckles paling as she made a sharp turn, diverting from the usual route. 

She knew exactly where she needed to be.

The road stretched longer as she drove toward the beach, the town fading behind her, the air growing saltier. When she finally pulled into a small parking lot—one that was never busy, never full, one that she used to bring JJ to when they were younger and Luke had too much to drink. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Looking out through the windscreen she could see the dark ocean stretched out in front of her, endless, the waves crashing against the shore in a slow, steady rhythm. She killed the engine, sitting there for a second, just staring and she let out a small sigh, eyes looking down at the joint still sitting in her cup holder.

For a second, she just stared at it, debating.

Then, with a quiet sigh, she grabbed it, fingers brushing against the lighter beside it as she slipped out of the car. The beach was almost completely dark, save for the glow of the distant streetlights casting long shadows across the sand. The wind rolled in off the water, cool against her skin as she walked a little further down. She sat down, legs bent, one arm wrapped around her knees as she pulled the joint to her lips, sparking the lighter. The flame flickered for a moment before catching, the tip burning red-hot as she inhaled, holding the smoke deep in her lungs before slowly blowing it out.

The tension in her chest didn’t ease, not really, but at least it dulled the sharp edges.

She took another drag.

Then another and before she could stop it, before she even realised, her vision blurred.

The tears came out of nowhere.

Hot, quiet, slipping down her cheeks, dripping onto the sleeves of her hoodie. She rubbed at her face roughly, sniffling as she took another pull from the joint, but the tears wouldn’t stop. She hated crying- Luke always told her it was a sign of weakness- she wasn’t weak. But she was just so fucking tired. Of working her ass off just to barely scrape by. Of dealing with her dad. Of feeling like she was letting everyone down, like JJ was slipping away.

Like she was letting him down. 

Y/N wiped her sleeve under her eyes again, sniffling hard, trying to force herself to get it together. The waves rolled in, soft and steady, the only sound filling the silence between her sniffles. The joint burned between her fingers, the cherry coloured tip glowing faintly in the dark. She brought it to her lips again, inhaling slow, the warmth spreading through her lungs, through her limbs, settling somewhere deep in her bones. Her eyes stayed locked on the water, mind hazy, thoughts swimming.

She barely even registered the sound of a car approaching in the distance. Not until the glow of headlights swept over the sand, catching the edge of her vision. Her head turned lazily, gaze trailing toward the parking lot just as a car pulled up right next to hers. She blinked at it once, twice, before looking back at the water, unfazed.

Probably just some kids hooking up.

No one ever came here. No one even knew about this spot. She rubbed at her cheek with the sleeve of her hoodie, feeling the dampness of the material. The joint between her fingers had burned down about halfway now, the fuzzy warmth settling into her muscles, making her limbs feel heavier. She took another slow drag, exhaling through her nose, ignoring the sound of an engine cutting off behind her. Whoever it was, they weren’t her problem.

The bright glare of the headlights blinked off and the sound of a car door slamming shut echoed.  

She stayed still, unmoving, her gaze fixed on the water. Whoever it was, she didn’t care. Not enough to turn around, not enough to pull herself out of the haze settling over her, even when footsteps crunched against the sand.

A little uneven.

A little slow.

Whoever it was, were clearly coming her way. Her fingers tightened slightly around what was left of the joint, bringing it to her lips again just as the footsteps stopped.

Someone stood there, still as stone, eyes locked on her.

He hadn’t even recognized her at first- too caught up in his own head, too wired from the line he’d done before leaving Barry’s, his thoughts still tangled up in the mess of the night. He’d just wanted to clear his mind, let the salt air knock some sense back into him. But then he’d seen the curve of her shoulder and the delicate seashell inked into her skin, peeking out on her shoulder blade where her hoodie had slipped down. His jaw tensed, the buzz in his veins sharpening, his body instinctively pulling him closer before his mind could catch up.

He knew that tattoo.

And now, he wasn’t going anywhere- because what was she doing on his side of part beach?

“What are you doing here?”

His tone was unexpected- like he’d been caught off guard, like she was an intruder. But why wouldn’t he be? She doesn’t belong here. Not on this stretch of sand. This place was his mother’s. 

Their place.

Before everything turned to shit, she’d bring him here on Sundays, just the two of them. She’d pack fresh fruit in a cooler, spread out a towel, and run her fingers through his hair while he sat between her legs, half-asleep from the warmth of the sun. It was the only place he'd ever cherished. 

And now she was here. 

Sitting in his sand. 

Smoking on his beach. 

Y/N doesn’t even look up, her voice sharp, cutting through the thick silence.

“Sorry is this your beach, Rafe?”

She almost laughs at herself, because it’s fucking ridiculous—the whole situation. She was supposed to be alone. Sitting in peace. But then he showed up. Just like her goddamn father. Just like every other man in her life who couldn’t let her fucking breathe. She hears his steps before she sees him, the uneven drag of his shoes against the sand. Then suddenly, he’s towering over her, and she feels it—the shift in the air, the pull of something inevitable. Her fingers drop the burnt-out joint into the sand, and she moves to stand, to leave, to get the hell away from him, but—

Rafe blocks her.

She collides into his chest with a quiet oof, stumbling back slightly, her balance thrown off for just a second. Y/N exhales sharply, shaking her head, before trying to move past him again. But this time, Rafe doesn’t just stand there. His hand comes out fast, gripping her upper arm- not hard, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks. She has to take a step back, her pulse spiking, annoyance flashing hot in her chest as she lets out a small scoff even in her drugged haze.

“Don’t be a bitch, Maybank.”

The words land like a slap. A slow-burning ember turning into a wildfire. It’s not even just the insult- it’s the way he says it. That low, condescending drawl. Like he’s above her. Like he thinks he can control her, that she’s just another thing for him to mess with, to push and pull whenever it suits him. And she doesn’t know if it’s the anger which has been building for weeks now, or the fact she was high.

But before she even fully registers the movement her hands shove into his chest 

Forcefully 

Enough that Rafe actually stumbles back, his balance thrown for a split second. And he just stands there, staring at her. Like he’s trying to process what just happened. For once, there’s no quick comeback. No smug remark. Just stunned silence as he looks at her like she’s someone he doesn’t quite recognize.

But then—just as quickly—his expression shifts. That smug fucking smirk creeps back onto his face, eyes flickering with something almost amused. Y/N feels her blood boil.

“YOU'RE THE FUCKING BITCH!”

Her voice cracks with frustration as she yells the words out at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She doesn’t even recognise herself- doesn’t care that she’s causing a scene, doesn’t care that her whole body is vibrating with anger. She’s shaking as she points her finger at him jaggedly and loudly slurs out,

“You’re the stupid fucking bitch”

Her breath comes in ragged bursts, chest rising and falling too fast, her whole body trembling with the weight of everything she’s been holding inside. Her chest tightens, a lump forming in her throat, and she knows—knows—she’s about to break. But she can’t stop herself now.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up, taken aback. Not just by what she said, but how she said it. Her voice isn’t steady like always. It’s cracked, uneven, shaking as much as her hands. The words come out slower, slurred, not just from the blunt but from the exhaustion, she’s unraveling right in front of him, drowning in everything she’s tried so hard to keep buried.

She can’t take it anymore so with a harsh, desperate push, she shoves him back- harder this time. "What do you want from me, huh?" Her voice cracks as she spits the words at him, and her body shakes with the force of everything she’s holding in. 

"What do you want from me?.... Why won’t you just fucking leave me alone?!"

Her breath hitches, and her voice breaks completely in the middle of her sentence. It’s too much, and the tears she’s been fighting back spill over, streaking down her cheeks. They roll freely down her face now, mixing with the salt from the sea breeze, soaking into her already damp skin.

She stands there, trembling, her hands balled into fists, her chest heaving as she stares at him like she’s ready to either fight or run. For a moment, Rafe’s gaze softens but just as quickly, that softness vanishes, replaced by the cold indifference he wears so effortlessly.

He steps closer, his presence towering over her, filling the space between them. She can feel the weight of him standing there, like he’s waiting for something—and then, in his usual, dismissive tone, he speaks.

“You’re a fucking mess.”

It stings. The way he says it, like it's just another observation, like it means nothing to him. But it cuts deeper than anything he's said before.

Because she knows it true.

Her voice shakes with the anger which is still there, but now it’s mixed with something else- something raw and vulnerable.

“You’re so fucking selfish.”

She spits the words at him like they’re poison, her eyes flashing with something fierce, but he just stands there, watching her, as if it’s all some kind of show. She shoves him again, but this time he reacts faster, his hand shooting out to catch her wrist with surprising force.

“Don’t fucking push me.”

He holds her there, and the moment his fingers close around her wrist, she winces. It’s an instinctive reaction, and she can’t stop herself. The pain flares in an instant. Her bruised wrist—the one that’s been aching since her father grabbed it—feels like it’s being crushed.

Rafe notices. 

He sees the way her face contorts with the slightest touch, the way her breath hitches as she struggles to keep her composure. Her pulse quickens as she yanks her wrist free, glaring at him with a mixture of fury and desperation.

“Get off of me” 

She snaps, her voice breaking with frustration. He doesn’t say anything at first, but she can see the way his eyes linger on her, studying her like he’s piecing something together. It doesn’t take long for her to realize he’s noticed the bruise, and that just makes her snap harder.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” 

“Maybank—” 

But she cuts him off, her frustration pouring out in a torrent of words She points at herself, her finger trembling in the air before she repeatedly jabs it into her chest aggressively. 

“D'you think I want to work in that fucking club, huh? HUH, RAFE?!”

The words fly out of her like she’s been holding them back forever, her voice cracking slightly at the end. There’s desperation there now, unfiltered and it’s not just anger anymore. She’s screaming at him because he’s been tormenting her—trapping her in the world she’s trying to claw her way out of. Stuck between trying to survive and trying to hold onto a shred of dignity. The silence lingers between them, suffocating in its weight, and for the first time, it’s not charged with anger or frustration- it’s something else, something she can’t quite place. Her voice is quieter now, the anger draining out of her, leaving only exhaustion.

“Just leave me alone.”

The words are like a plea, but they still hold a sharp edge. She shoves past him, not bothering to spare him a glance as she walks towards her car, her body moving with purpose, as if every step is an effort to desperately escape from this moment, from him.

Behind her, Rafe watches her walk away, his eyes fixed on her retreating figure. His jaw clenches, and he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, unsure of what he’s feeling. There’s something there- it’s almost as if the walls he’s built around himself, the ones that keep him from caring about anything or anyone, are starting to crack. Why does he feel like this? Why does he feel this nagging sense of... 

Regret

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[lazysoulwriter]

not today, lando, not today. - lando norris.

----

Lando had been a cocky little shit all day. Not in a mean way, just in that insufferably smug, teasing way of his—full of himself, playful, with that infuriating smirk that made you want to roll your eyes every five minutes.

He had mocked you at breakfast, laughed when you almost dropped your phone in the pool, made fun of your music taste while driving, and then absolutely destroyed you in every game you played together, just to rub it in your face afterward.

And you? You didn’t argue. Didn’t snap back. Didn’t even give him the look.

You just let him be.

But now, in the dim light of your bedroom, it was your turn to play.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Lando barely looked up from his phone. But then you let the towel drop, revealing your delicate, baby pink lace lingerie, and suddenly, he was very, very attentive.

His breath hitched.

Already in bed, wearing nothing but sweatpants, he sat up instantly, eyes dragging over your body like you were the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

— Fuck... — he muttered, reaching out to touch your waist.

You took a step back.

— No.

Lando blinked.

— What?

— You heard me. No.

Your voice was soft but firm, and the confusion on his face was almost amusing. His brows knitted together as he tried to figure out if you were messing with him.

— But, baby... — He tried again, reaching for your wrist, only for you to pull it away. — What did I do?

You crossed your arms, tilting your head slightly with an almost smug smile.

— You were an asshole all day, Lando.

— No, I wasn’t! — he defended himself immediately, then hesitated. — Okay, maybe a little bit. But you didn’t even say anything!

— Exactly. I saved it for now.

The panic in his eyes was delicious.

— Oh, no, baby, come on… — He crawled to the edge of the bed, desperate to pull you closer, but you dodged him, walking over to the mirror to let your hair down, acting as if he weren’t even there.

— You should’ve thought about that before being an insufferable little shit all day.

Lando groaned, running a hand down his face.

— Okay, okay, I was a dick. I’m sorry, alright? I swear—

— No.

The word was firm, and yet, laced with something so teasing, so damn tempting, that he shivered. His eyes darkened as he watched you turn toward him, leaning against the dresser, your posture relaxed despite the tension in the air.

— I’m gonna lose my mind — he groaned, gripping the sheets. — You look so hot, and I can’t even touch you?

You laughed, finally walking toward him, stopping right in front of where he sat on the bed. His eyes roamed slowly, drinking in every detail of the lace, the soft curves of your body, the way your lips curled into that victorious little smile.

— Goodnight, baby — you whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch his… and then you pulled away, moving to your side of the bed.

Lando cursed under his breath, falling back onto the mattress with a frustrated sigh.

— I hate this — he grumbled, turning to face you in the dark. — But I also love it.

You smiled against your pillow, feeling the heat of his stare on your skin.

He might’ve been a cocky little shit all day, but right now? Right now, he was just a desperate man in your bed.

And nothing was sweeter than that.

----

[fireinmoonshot]

all this time | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Despite the fact that you're his older sisters best friend, Joaquín has always had a crush on you. Little does he know, you feel the same way. But how can either of you act on it when you can't hurt his sister? Warnings: Reader wears dresses, has hair long enough to at least reach her shoulders. Mentions of food. Joaquín being completely oblivious... other than that I think it's all fine! Word Count: 7.8k A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever posted on this blog (not including my multi-parters)... this was requested by a lovely anon and I started brainstorming the idea when I was at work the other day (plenty of time to think when I'm in the walk-in fridge) and then I got so hooked on the idea and it somehow became this almost 8000 word piece. I loved writing this one so much though. In this, I have named Joaquín's sister Catalina, nicknamed Lina – if this happens to be your name, feel free to just pick another name for her. It's just one I liked! I really hope everyone that reads enjoys this. It was a challenge to write but I loved every second of it! 💗

“It’s like the forbidden fruit, huh?” Marcos turns to Joaquin with a grin. He takes a sip of his beer and then points the bottle across the backyard towards where you’re standing by the back door of his parents house.

Joaquin frowns, his eyebrows knotting together and undoubtedly causing an expression to appear on his face that his mother would berate him about making in public. “What?”

Marcos points the bottle towards you again. “Catalina’s friend. She’s like the forbidden fruit. The most gorgeous girl here but the only girl that none of us can have, unless we want to deal with your sisters wrath. And no one wants Catalina’s wrath.” 

For a moment, Joaquin simply stares at his cousin. He can’t say any of the things that are currently swimming through his mind. Though Marcos deserves to hear all of them, none of them are particularly family friendly and there are several people sitting around the two of them that he’d rather not offend. 

“Don’t talk about my sisters friend like that,” is all he can manage before he picks up his own beer from the table and walks away, leaving Marcos staring after him, dumbfounded. 

He shakes his head as he walks over towards the barbecue where his uncle has just started to grill some meat. How his favourite uncle managed to have a son like Marcos, Joaquin will never be able to comprehend.

“What did he say now?” Uncle Jorge says, glancing over at Joaquin as he turns over a piece of meat. “There’s only one reason you would’ve walked over here and it’s not because you want to talk to your favourite tío.”

Joaquin chuckles. “Believe me, you don’t wanna know.”

He looks around the backyard, taking in the scene. His family, neighbours, friends, everyone he really cares about all in the same place, except for Sam – he’d been summoned away to help his sister and his nephews for the weekend. Despite his absence, this is a rare occasion, and one he’s glad to be experiencing.

He can’t help it when his eyes catch on you. You’re still standing over closer to the back door of the house with his sister, a drink in your hand. The sundress you’re wearing suits you a lot. The colour compliments your skin perfectly. The breeze blows some of your hair back off of your shoulders and his breath catches in his throat. He’s well aware the situation is all very similar to a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles. 

Joaquin has barely been able to take his eyes off of you ever since he first saw you arrive, and who can blame him when you look like that? To be fair… you always look gorgeous, but today you look especially gorgeous. 

The words Marcos had said trickle into his mind again and he winces a little. He wishes that people like Marcos didn’t get to enjoy looking at you when you looked so beautiful. 

“Joaquin, are you listening?” 

He blinks, tearing his eyes away from you and back to his uncle. “Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”

His uncle looks over his shoulder, looking exactly where Joaquin had been looking, and chuckles to himself. “Yeah, distracted, sure. Can you pass me the tongs over there?”

Joaquin passes him the tongs, ignoring the comment about him being distracted, and forces himself to look away from you. Even when he hears you laugh and he wants nothing more than to look at you and see the smile on your face. He loves seeing you smile.

Thankfully, his uncle doesn’t say anything more about catching him staring at you. Joaquin helps him with grilling up the rest of the meat, completely unaware that you are now the one staring at him from across the yard.

You can’t help it – Joaquin is and always has been gorgeous.

You watch as a girl around Joaquin’s age, a few years younger than you, walks up to Joaquin where he’s standing near the grill with his uncle and starts making conversation. The feeling that settles in your chest isn’t an unfamiliar one, but it is unwelcome.

“Catalina,” you start, getting the attention of your friend. “Who’s that Joaquin’s with?”

She looks up from her phone at you and then across the backyard to where you’re looking, right at Joaquin. “Oh, I know her but I can’t remember her name,” she says, thinking for a moment to try and remember it but failing. “She’s the daughter of one of the neighbours, I think they live three doors up.”

You make a noise of understanding to let Lina know that you heard her but you can’t manage to tear your eyes away from Joaquin and the young woman. They’re both smiling as they speak. It’s when she reaches out and touches his arm that you force yourself to look away. You take a long sip of your drink to try and push down the feeling in your chest.

Catalina looks at you, amused. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason,” you shake your head, sipping your drink again just for something to do. “I just thought she looked familiar, but obviously not. I wouldn’t have seen her before.”

You can tell that Lina doesn’t believe a single word that you’re saying. She’s been able to read you like a book for over half of your lives at this point. You just hope that she’s not intuitive enough to realise that you have been harbouring a major crush on her little brother for most of that time, despite your exhaustive efforts to stop it.

You’ve known Joaquin for as long as you’ve known Lina. When you’d met her at school, she’d introduced you to her younger brother not long after. He had just been a kid, then – a young boy who wanted to follow his sister around all day. It had been fine as children, Joaquin almost becoming like a little brother to you too, but once you’d become teenagers and you and Lina just wanted to spend girl time together, things had changed.

When you’d sleepover at Lina’s house as children, it was fine. You didn’t care about Joaquin seeing you in your pyjamas or in the morning when you’d just woken up. As a teenager, though, those were things that started to matter to you. For the first time since you’d known Joaquin, you’d started to care about the way he saw you. It had all been downhill from there.

“Yeah, no reason, sure,” Lina huffs from beside you, putting her phone in the pocket of her shorts. She’s heard the exact same question from Joaquin while referring to people who were talking to you more times than she can count. He’d never managed to come up with excuses as to why he’d been asking, though. 

She reaches out and takes your now empty glass from you. You hadn’t even realised that you’d drained it completely while trying to distract from the conversation with her.

“I’m going to get us some refills,” she says, starting to walk back towards the house. “Go and talk to my brother, will you? He looks in need of saving, judging by the look on his face.” 

You watch her, confused, as she retreats inside the house. It’s only when she’s gone that you look back over at Joaquin. His uncle, who was standing beside him, has now disappeared, and the smiles that Joaquin had been giving the young girl have turned to grimaces, despite his best attempts to keep his facial expression neutral.

You don’t waste time, knowing there’s not long until Catalina returns with your new drinks, and start crossing the yard towards Joaquin. He sees you in his peripheral vision not too long before you reach him. He notices instantly that you look even more stunning in this outfit up close.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” you start, sounding not sorry at all. “But your sister is looking for you, Joaquin. She asked me to come and find you.” 

Joaquin looks between you and the girl. He’s so terrible, he can’t even remember the poor girls name. “Ah, duty calls,” he flashes the girl what he hopes is a genuine grin instead of the look that he’s sure was on his face before you arrived. “I’ll see you around.”

Smiling to yourself, you start to walk away, knowing that Joaquin will be following you. He falls into step beside you as you walk away from the grill and back towards the house. You feel his hand brush against your back, hovering behind you as you walk – a feeling you’re used to when you’re around Joaquin. 

“Lina isn’t looking for me, is she?”

“No, but she did sense you were in need of rescue.”

Joaquin laughs softly. “Ah, so she sent you. My knight in shining armour.”

You glance over at him as you stop just outside the back door of the house, not far from where you and Lina had been standing before. “I see a damsel in distress, I don’t hesitate.”

Something passes between the two of you as you look at each other, but as quickly as it came, it disappears. You’re both aware of it, of the spark of energy between the two of you. 

It’s the kind of feeling that you’d chased in several other men during your adulthood. None of your failed relationships had ever been able to create such a feeling, not even the best of them. Not even the one relationship you’d thought might turn into marriage and a future together. The one that Joaquin had seen you crying on Lina’s shoulder over when you’d had your heart smashed into a million tiny pieces.

Joaquin doesn’t like to think about that, though. Or any of your exes.

“So, are you enjoying the barbecue?” Joaquin asks in an attempt to break the silence.

You smooth your palms out on your dress, feeling them start to become sweaty with your nerves. You’re not sure exactly why you’re nervous – it’s just Joaquin, the same Joaquin you’ve known since you can remember. But there are tiny parts of him that are different. He’s an Avenger now. He’s the Falcon. He’d almost died a few months ago. The fact that you’re even here having this conversation still feels a little surreal to you. You remember sitting in the hospital waiting room holding Lina’s hand and trying to keep it together yourself when you were just as terrified as she was. 

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum, meeting his eyes briefly. “It’s good to see everyone.”

Joaquin nods. “Yeah, it’s not often everyone gets together like this. I–uh– I’m really glad you could make it,” he stumbles over his words a little. “Lina said you had to move some things around in your schedule to make it work, but I’m glad you did. It’d be weird without you here.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Weird without me?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, just cause… y’know… you’re practically part of the family.”

“Ah,” you nod, smiling a little. “I guess I am at this point.”

An arm drapes around your shoulder and you’re immediately torn out of the moment with Joaquin by Lina’s return. She hands your drink to you and smiles over at her brother.

“Did she save the day, little brother?” Lina asks, grinning at him.

You’ve always loved the relationship between Lina and Joaquin. They’ve had many an argument in your presence, mostly as teenagers, but as adults it’s fairly civil. Joaquin has always looked up to his older sister and Lina has always wanted to make a good impression on her younger brother. It made for a pretty happy relationship most of the time. It’s part of the reason you’ve never brought up your crush on him to Lina. You never want to come between them.

Joaquin nods. “Yeah, ‘course she did.”

“That’s our girl,” Lina says proudly, removing her arm so she can stand next to you properly. “How was your conversation with our neighbour? She’s cute, no?” 

You look between Joaquin and Lina, a little surprised that she’s bringing up the girl when she couldn’t even remember her name and even more surprised because she’d sent you over there to rescue Joaquin from that girl.

He raises his eyebrows at his sister. “If you like that sort of girl, sure. You asking for my opinion, Catalina? I thought you weren’t interested in dating anyone at the moment.”

Lina scoffs and waves her hand dismissively. “Not for me, you fool. I’m talking about you. I thought you told me that you wanted to start dating again now that you’re all healed up from your accident? Sam told me you have women and men lining up for you now that you’re the Falcon. He was worried it would go to your head.”

Joaquin opens his mouth and tries to come up with something to say but eventually settles on a very weak, “I did not say that!” He looks at you and then at his sister, internally cursing her out for saying that in front of you. Not that Catalina knew any better. Joaquin was very careful about keeping his crush on you a secret. 

“If you say so, little brother,” Lina shrugs her shoulders and then reaches down to take hold of your wrist. “I just saw Uncle Jorge put the burgers out on the table, let’s go and get some before my cousins raid the table and get them all first.”

Before you can say anything else to Joaquin, Lina starts dragging you away. You turn around and catch his eye as you walk away. Joaquin sends you a small wave, smiling at his sister and her ease to exit a conversation without a single thought. They’re more alike than Joaquin realises.

–––––

Later in the evening, after the barbecue is long over and most of the guests have returned to their homes or retired inside for the rest of the evening, you and Catalina are helping to clean up some of the mess that was left in the backyard. All things considered, it’s pretty clean except for a few pieces of rubbish here and there. Lina and Joaquin’s parents had insisted that everyone clean up after themselves and mostly, people had. 

Joaquin had gone home a few hours ago, saying that he still needed plenty of rest after his accident since he was still recovering from it, and none of the family had disagreed with him even though none of them wanted him to leave.

He’d hugged you before he left, like he’d hugged all of the family. You can still feel the small kiss he’d pressed to your cheek out of pure habit after kissing the cheeks of his abuelas and tías. You hadn’t missed the way his cheeks had flushed a little after he realised.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Catalina says as she puts an empty paper plate in the trash bag that she’s holding. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You look up from where you’ve been cleaning a spilled drink off the top of the table. “You wish I’d give you a penny for my thoughts, Catalina,” you chuckle, using her full name just to irritate her a little. 

Lina rolls her eyes at you and then takes a seat at one of the chairs. She motions at you to take the other one and reluctantly, you do. You know that Lina initiating a conversation like this is never going to end well. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush on this,” she begins, making your stomach start to do backflips with nerves. You’re not sure why – Lina has never given you a reason to be nervous around her in the entire time you’ve known her. But for some reason, this time feels a little different. “I know you have a crush on my brother, querida. I know why you’ve been trying to stop me from finding out, but I know you and I know what I see.”

There’s no point trying to deny it. You know that even if you did try and deny it, Lina wouldn’t believe you for a second. That’s just the kind of person she is and always has been.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter sheepishly. “I won’t lie to you, Lina. I’ve liked him for a while now and I’ve been trying to get over him but I’ve failed a million times. And after his accident a few months back, I can’t seem to get him out of my head.”

Lina reaches across the table and places her hand over the top of yours. “You don’t need to be sorry. I kind of understand. I’ve been worried about him even more than usual since the accident. It’s made me want to spend every second with him that I can. It’s also the whole reason why I’m bringing this up with you now. I tried to start a conversation about it when Quin was there earlier, about him wanting to date again, but obviously he’s not ready for that conversation…”

“What conversation?”

“We almost lost Joaquin a few months ago, querida. Why waste more time? You don’t need it, but I’m giving you my blessing to pursue things with him if that’s what you want. You’re my best friend, have been ever since I can remember. If there’s anyone that I trust with my brother, it’s you,” Lina says. You can hear the honesty in her voice.

There’s still doubt in you, though. 

“Are you sure?” You question, a little hesitant. “I mean… he’s your baby brother.”

Lina smiles. “Yeah, he is. Which means his happiness is one of the most important things in the world to me. And if he likes you back, like I’m pretty sure he does – call it sisterly instinct – then being with you would make him very happy. He’s obviously not going to do anything about it, judging by the way he deflected me earlier, but you just might.” 

You look at her for a few moments before getting up from your chair and walking around to her side of the table, your arms extended. She laughs as she stands up, happily hugging you back. She squeezes you tight. 

“Besides, if you and Joaquin work out, it would make you my actual sister… and I secretly always wished that I could have a sister instead of a brother when I was younger…” Lina mutters in your ear.

You laugh at her as you pull away from the hug. “I basically already am your sister, Lina.”

“I know,” she shrugs, picking up the trash bag again and starting to pick up the last few pieces of rubbish. “But this way, it’d be official. And… y’know, if Joaquin starts dating someone then it might make our parents stop asking me when I’m getting married.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” you pick up the cloth you’d been using before. “This is all just a ploy to make it so that Joaquin and I are the ones being pressured to get married so your parents will get off your back… fair play, Torres. Fair play.”

She flashes you a grin. “Come on, let’s finish cleaning all this up so we can go home.”

–––––

There’s an added pressure the next time you see Joaquin. Even though it’s not the two of you alone and there are other people there, the fact that you know Catalina is silently cheering you on and that she thinks Joaquin likes you back makes it a little more real.

It’s not just a little one-sided crush anymore.

Joaquin throws his hands up in the air and cheers as his bowling ball knocks down all ten pins and scores a strike. “Did you see that!?” He exclaims, walking back towards the rest of you. 

“Well, yeah,” Lina replies, “We are all watching you.”

He gives her a look as he takes his seat beside you and one of your other friends, Jack, goes up for his turn. Joaquin pulls his phone out and takes a picture of his score on the TV screen above your heads.

“First strike of the night,” Joaquin grins, turning to look at you. 

His thigh is pressed against yours, owing to the small benches at the Bowling Alley. You’ve squashed four people onto each bench when they’re really only made to sit three and have split your group into two teams – it’s basically you and Joaquin vs Lina, with your other friends split evenly between the teams. 

“Oh, did you get a strike?” You feign surprise. “I must’ve been looking at my phone when you did it and I definitely didn’t hear you yelling about how excited you were afterwards.”

Joaquin laughs and nudges his shoulder against yours. “Shut up,” he says jokingly. “Have you been spending too much time around my sister? I might have to kidnap you and try and get rid of the mind-wipe she’s obviously done on you.”

“Who said spending time with your sister is a bad thing?” You reply, amused. “I never get to see you anymore since you’re always off saving the world so at least I still have one Torres around.”

It’s the truth. Joaquin is barely around anymore and you have to admit that you miss seeing him. You were surprised when he’d replied to the group text and said that he’d be joining you all at Bowling tonight. 

Joaquin’s face drops ever so slightly at your words but he tries his best to mask it. He didn’t realise that you had noticed his absence so much. “Well, someone’s gotta do it,” he jokes. “And if Lina is such great company, why aren’t you on her team, huh?” 

You look over at Lina, right as she stands up to go and take her turn. You try your best to summon some of her confidence. “Cause I missed you, that’s why,” you say, trying desperately to stop your voice from shaking. Telling Joaquin you miss him should not be this terrifying, yet it somehow is. 

He looks at you for a moment, lips barely parted. You watch as his tongue swipes out, running across his lips, before he closes his mouth and nods at your words. “I, uh, I missed you too.”

You glance up at the scoreboard. There are still a few other people who have to bowl before it’s your turn again and if you’re going to flirt with Joaquin tonight, now is your chance. “You did?” You hum, raising your eyebrows at him. “How much did you miss me?”

Joaquin is pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting. Are you trying to flirt with him? Is that what’s happening right now? He’s no stranger to people flirting with him, especially since becoming the Falcon, but you? The last time you flirted with him was when you were teenagers and you both hadn’t quite figured out what your feelings were yet. 

You can’t be flirting with him, though. You wouldn’t dare – especially since Catalina is your best friend. Joaquin is sure of that. There’s no way you’d even try something with him on the off chance you’d hurt Lina’s feelings. But there’s a look in your eye that Joaquin hasn’t seen there before and if he wasn’t internally panicking so much, he’s pretty sure he’d flirt right back.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, a bit.”

He stands then, taking you off guard, and excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you confused and a little hurt at him brushing you off. Were you that bad at flirting or was he just not interested? 

Lina finishes her turn and comes to take Joaquin’s empty seat beside you. She leans in close so that none of your other friends can hear what she’s saying. “What was that with Joaquin?”

“I tried flirting and he totally shut down,” you admit.

She rests her hand over yours and gives it a reassuring pat. “Remember what I said after the barbecue? About him not being ready for the conversation I wanted to have with him?”

You nod, the night coming back to you as clear as day even though it was a couple of weeks ago now. 

“Give him some time to warm up to the idea,” Lina finishes. 

She stands up and heads back over to her own seat just in time for Joaquin to come back and rejoin the group, sitting beside you again.

There is silence for a few moments as the last member in your team has their go. You’re trying to summon Lina’s confidence again when Alex finishes her turn and tells you that it’s your go again.

You stand, brushing your sweaty palms on the fabric of your jeans as you head to grab your bowling ball. You’re pretty sure it comes across as just trying to dry your hands before bowling, but you know that Joaquin has seen through that when you hear him cheer your name to try and hype you up for your go.

Jack and Alex join in with the cheering and you smile at them all over your shoulder as you walk up to take your turn. You don’t end up hitting a strike like Joaquin, but you do manage to take down a few of the pins and help in getting your team a better score.

As you walk back towards the group once your turn is over, Joaquin is walking towards you to take his own turn. He raises his hand for a high-five, which you give him. 

“Great score,” he grins, grabbing his ball from the machine. “I mean, it’s no strike but it wasn’t terrible.” 

You can’t help but smile at his teasing. Maybe Catalina was right, maybe you did just have to give him time to warm up to it all and you’d just come on too strong earlier. “Are you offering private lessons?” You ask, not intending to flirt but just trying to joke with him. You only realise once the words are out of your mouth that they sound much more like flirting than a joke.

Joaquin looks at you for a moment and then laughs, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. Your stomach drops. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

He walks away, heading up to take his turn, and you know that you’ve really put your foot in it this time. He’d basically just rejected you. No, I’m not. His words ring out in your mind. You’ve clearly misread the signals and so has Lina. If Joaquin actually really liked you, he surely wouldn’t have brushed you off so strongly. 

Instead of heading back to your own seat, you head over to Lina. She eyes you, a little concerned just based on the look on your face.

“I’m not feeling too good, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you tell her. “My turns are over anyway, it’s just the rest of the team to go. You can text me and tell me who won.” 

Lina stands up immediately, knowing something is wrong. “You sure? What’s going on? Do you want me to come home with you?” She lowers her voice a little. “What did my brother say?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “I swear. I just feel sick.”

She looks at you for a moment and you can tell that she doesn’t believe a word but thankfully, she agrees to let you go. She walks you to your car and doesn’t leave until you’re in it and out of the parking lot.

–––––

The second Joaquin sits in the passenger seat of Lina’s car, he regrets not driving himself to Ten Pin Bowling. The game is over and your friends have all gone home. Joaquin’s team won, mostly owing to him throwing two strikes in his last two games, but he never really felt up to celebrating the victory once you went home.

It’s silent until Lina pulls the car out onto the road. 

“So, do you think you’re too good for her now that you’re the Falcon or something?” Lina says, completely out of left field. “Cause it’s my job as your sister to humble you and believe me, I will.”

Joaquin’s jaw drops. “What the– Lina, I’m so lost here.”

She glances across at him before looking back at the road. If she looks at him too much, she knows she’ll get distracted arguing, and she is driving a car at the moment. That still has to be her main focus, even if she’s busy yelling at her brother.

“Why are you fucking things up with my best friend?” Lina is basically shooting daggers out of her eyes at him. “I’ve known that you’ve had the hots for her since you were like fifteen, Quin! So, why, after she shows an interest in you, are you brushing her off?!”

Joaquin is completely lost for words. His sister knows that he likes you? She’s aware that you were flirting with him tonight? He feels like he’s missing out on a lot of crucial information right now.

“Because she’s your best friend!” Joaquin replies, defensive. “Are you telling me that you want me to get together with her? Did you get hit in the head by a bowling ball tonight?”

Lina lets out a groan as she pulls up at a red light. “Ay dios mío, Joaquin.” 

He stares at her, confused by how annoyed she is. Does she not care that he likes you? But why wouldn’t she – as a teenager she’d told him on more than one occasion that you were her friend and that he wasn’t allowed to even consider stealing you from her. Why, as an adult, would she allow him to basically do that very thing? 

“Lina, would you please tell me what’s going on?”

She turns to look at him and he’s already a little afraid just based off of the look on her face. Catalina never looks at him like that. It’s the exact same look of wrath that Marcos had referenced at the barbecue a few weeks ago, the one he’d said no one wanted to deal with. And here he was, the very subject of it.

“She was flirting with you at the bowling alley tonight, Quin,” Lina sighs, clearly already exhausted from this conversation. “You’re the reason that she left early. You must’ve said or done something that hurt her feelings. She didn’t say anything to me, but she’s my best friend. I can tell when she’s lying to me, and she was.”

Lina looks back at the road as the light goes green and puts her foot down on the accelerator. She doesn’t say anything else after that, deciding to let her words sink into Joaquin’s mind for a bit.

He was the reason you left early? Admittedly, he had been a little confused as to why you were flirting with him tonight. He probably hadn’t dealt with that in the best way. But hearing you say things like ‘How much did you miss me?’ and ‘Are you offering private lessons?’ in the way that you did had left him all hot under the collar. How else was he supposed to deal with that? 

You’re his older sisters best friend. You’ve been in his life ever since he can really remember. He’s been basically in love with you since you were teenagers, but he’s never let himself even consider the possibility that you weren’t the forbidden fruit Marcos had called you. That all along, Lina actually never cared if he liked you. 

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” He looks over at his sister.

Lina nods. “You did, little brother. You really did.”

–––––

Three days have passed since the failed attempt at flirting at Ten Pin Bowling. You’ve seen Lina, going out for coffee with her twice. But Joaquin hasn’t so much as texted you, so you assume that he’s gone back to work with Captain America and try to get back into your daily routine. 

You misread the signs and that was okay. Or so you’re telling yourself anyway. Even though every time you think about the way that Joaquin had shut you down, your stomach ends up in knots.

It’s late at night and you’re just about to get up from the couch and finally go to bed after staring at the crappy TV programmes for way too long when you hear a knock on your door. 

Stifling a yawn, you head over to the door. You’re so exhausted enough from your long day at work that you don’t even think to look through the peephole on your door before you open it. If you had, you probably would have pretended not to be home.

Because Joaquin Torres stands on the other side of your door.

He’s dressed in dark jeans and a white shirt, his hands tucked into the pockets of the jeans. He has a sheepish look on his face, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking about him turning up here at this time of night, but all you can think about is the fact that he looks good… too good, really.

“Hi,” Joaquin manages.

He sounds nervous, which is strange. Joaquin Torres doesn’t get nervous, not really. He’s the most overconfident person you’ve ever met and you love that about him. You’ve barely ever heard him stutter or stumble over words.

“Hi,” you mutter. “What are you doing here?”

Joaquin is pretty sure he blacked out on his way to your apartment. He remembers getting out of his car, but the walk into the building and the elevator ride up to your floor is all a blur. He’s not sure what he expected to see when you opened the door, but seeing you standing there in your pyjamas, hair out and face make-up free, is not it. You look even more gorgeous than you did at the barbecue. 

“I’m sorry. It’s late,” Joaquin blinks, the fact that you’re in your pyjamas finally hitting him. He’s hit with a memory, then – you’re sixteen years old, staying over at his house for a sleepover. He’s almost fifteen. He walks into the kitchen as you’re getting a glass of water early in the morning and all of sudden you’re whisper-yelling at him to get out, saying something about him not being able to see you when you’re in your pyjamas. He almost laughs at the memory and then composes himself. “Should I go?”

You shake your head. “No, you can come in.” You’re not sure what you’re doing. You’re letting Joaquin into your apartment at 11 o’clock at night? And you’re letting him see you in your pyjamas. Your sixteen year old self would freak. 

Joaquin hesitantly steps into your apartment and closes the door behind himself, then kicks off his shoes. He notices that all your curtains are drawn and the main lights are off, the room only lit up by a few lamps. The TV is still on but the volume is so low he can’t make out what’s being said. 

“You never answered my question,” you state, walking over and leaning against the arm of your couch. Joaquin tries not to look at the way your pyjama shorts rise a little as you sit. 

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t,” he nods. “I was thinking about that time in my old house where you yelled at me in the kitchen because I wasn’t allowed to see you in pyjamas. And here I am, seeing you in your pyjamas.”

Against your better judgment, a small smile makes its way onto your face. You and him had been thinking about the same thing, then. Funny, how even after all these years, things hadn’t changed in some ways. But in others, everything had. 

“That doesn’t explain your presence today, Joaquin,” you hum, though you’re still smiling a little at the memory. “You said it yourself. It’s late. But you wouldn’t be here without a reason.”

He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am here for a reason,” he confirms. “I wanted to say sorry about the way I acted at Ten Pin Bowling the other night. You were flirting with me and I got freaked out. Catalina was there and I was worried about what she’d say.”

“It’s okay, Joaquin. You don’t have to apologise. I should be the one saying sorry for flirting with you in the first place,” you shrug. “I misread the signs and I was wrong.”

Joaquin shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “No, don’t apologise either. I, uh… I got yelled at by Lina after we left the bowling alley. She was driving me home and she said some things that I didn’t realise I really needed to hear.” 

Lina had filled you in on the conversation that she’d had with Joaquin on their drive home when you’d had coffee with her two days ago, but she hadn’t told you anything that Joaquin had said. She’d only explained to you that she’d tried to knock some sense into him, but that with Joaquin, it could have all gone in one ear and out the other. 

Clearly, some of it hadn’t gone out the other ear.

“I’m listening.”

Joaquin takes another step towards you and then he begins. 

“I started crushing on you not long before that morning in the kitchen when we were teenagers. I didn’t really realise what the feelings were at the time. All I knew is that I loved whenever you came over to hang out with Catalina and I loved when you both let me hang out with you, too. Then, when you were seventeen you started dating Bobby Hernandez and I discovered what it felt like to be jealous. I was so mad when I found out that Bobby had cheated on you with another girl in your grade that I would have beat him up if Lina hadn’t beaten me to the punch, quite literally.”

Your heart starts beating a little faster in your chest at his words. He’d had a crush on you as a teenager and you had no idea? Even when the only reason you’d started dating Bobby Hernandez was because you were so desperately trying to pretend you didn’t like Joaquin?

“When you and my sister went off to college, that was the hardest part,” he continues. “It was the first time in my life that I was really alone. I had friends, but learning to live without seeing you and Catalina every day was tough. Then, that first summer you came home and you brought your boyfriend home to visit. I remember his name was Seth and every time I saw you with him, it was like I was being punched in the stomach. As much as I wish I didn’t, I remember the name of every guy you brought home. I was trying so hard to pretend like I didn’t care. Catalina apparently saw through me every time.

I remember when I came home after being deployed and I met Gabriel. The first thing that my mom said when I saw her after you’d introduced her was ‘That’s the man our girl is going to marry’ and all I could think about was the fact that it was so wrong. He wasn’t the man you should be marrying. I remember coming around to my sisters house a few years later and letting myself in only to see you in tears on her shoulder. I left before either of you could see that I was there. It’s a good thing I never knew much more about the man other than his name and his job otherwise I probably would have done to him what I wanted to do to Bobby Hernandez, and that probably wouldn’t have gone down well as an adult.”

You have to keep reminding yourself to breathe as you listen to Joaquin talk, but every word he says seems to knock the breath out of you. Every word is as unbelievable as the last. His crush hadn’t just been when you were a teenager. It had lasted through your other relationships, through Gabriel. The man you thought you would marry. And all along, Joaquin had been there, knowing that you wouldn’t because he’d been hoping it was him.

“Why– why did you never say anything?” You ask, even though you already know why.

Joaquin smiles, slightly sadly. “You know why, angel. The one person that ties us together is the one reason neither of us said anything. Hurting Catalina was the last thing either of us ever wanted to do. But…”

“But she’s known all along,” you breathe.

“She’s known all along,” he agrees.

You look at him for a moment, then, noticing the way his eyebrows are drawn together, at the small, sad smile on his face. The way his arms look as they’re crossed over his chest, the way his white shirt accentuates everything you’re trying not to notice. The man in front of you, the one you’ve been in love with all this time, feels the same way about you.

“I only dated the men that I did because I was trying to avoid my feelings for you,” you admit, your voice soft. It’s something you’ve never said out loud before, not even to yourself. Before now, it’s only been a thought in your head, admitted to yourself only.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod. “I really did think I was going to marry Gabriel, though. But I think it’s just because I convinced myself he was what I deserved. In the end, he hurt me just like Bobby Hernandez did. He would’ve deserved what he got if you found him.”

The whole time Joaquin has been talking, he’s slowly been walking closer towards you. Now, he’s so close that you could reach out and touch him. That feeling, the energy that runs between the two of you, you can feel it again now. It usually disappears quickly, but today it lingers as you both look in each others eyes. 

“You still have his address?” Joaquin jokes, lips twitching up into a smile.

You huff out a laugh and roll your eyes. “What, now that you’re the Falcon you think you can just swoop in and kick his ass for me? You don’t have vibranium wings yet, honey.”

He shrugs. “I do have wings, though. I’d be gone for a few days at least, though. You’d have to live without me while I was gone. Do you reckon you could manage that?” He teases.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I might miss you when you’re gone.”

Joaquin takes a step towards you. “Oh, yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How much?”

“As much as any girl misses the man she loves.”

Upon hearing your words, Joaquin can’t hold himself back any longer. He closes the gap between you and cups your jaw in one of his hands before leaning down to press his lips to yours. Kissing you is instantly as easy as breathing, like he’s done it a million times before when in reality, this is one kiss over a decade in the making. He feels your hand on his waist, feels the warmth of it through his thin t-shirt, and the sensation urges him to kiss you deeper. His other hand rests on your back, holding you upright so you don’t tip backwards onto the couch as he kisses you.

The feeling of your lips on his is unlike any feeling he knows. Your lips are sweet, owing to the lip balm you’re wearing, and your skin is soft under his. He never wants this moment to end. He’d kiss you forever if it were possible.

But, eventually the two of you have to break apart to breathe and the moment comes to an end. You rest your foreheads against each others as you attempt to catch your breath. Your hand is fisted in his t-shirt and his thumb is swiping gently back and forth over your cheek. 

“So, do you offer private lessons?” You manage to say.

Joaquin laughs, the sound like music to your ears. “That depends,” he replies. “Am I a better kisser than your exes?” 

“I’m not even going to answer that question… just kiss me again.”

“Whatever you want, angel.” 

His lips meet yours again and the sound you make as they do sets Joaquin’s heart alight. His hand grips your back tighter as he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer. Your legs in those tiny pyjama shorts. The pyjamas he wasn’t allowed to see you wearing as a teenager, the ones he’s kissing you senseless in now.

He’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to leave this apartment.

–––––

“Finally,” Lina exclaims, clapping her hands together as she sees you and Joaquin walking into the diner, your hands entwined. 

You and Joaquin share a look, amused, before sliding into the booth opposite Catalina. She looks at you both, eyebrows raised, pressing you both to explain everything to her. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen her since you and Joaquin had finally gotten together. That night had ended up being a particularly long one and Joaquin hadn’t left until the following morning. You’d had a lot of catching up to do, among other things, after discovering you’d been pining for each other for so many years without really realising it. 

“We talked things out,” you state. “I don’t think you’d wanna hear all the details, Lina.” 

Catalina screws her nose up. “Oh, please no. Gross. Don’t even plant images like that in my mind,” she shakes her head. 

Joaquin laughs and strokes his thumb over your hand from where he’s still holding it. “You walked right into that one, Lina.” 

She makes another look of disgust and takes a sip of her drink. “Anyway, moving swiftly on from that… when’s the wedding?”

It’s your turn to laugh, this time, but Lina stays deadly serious as she looks between you both. It’s only when you stop laughing that you realise that she wasn’t asking it as a joke.

“We’ve been officially dating for like four days.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been in love for what, fifteen years? Let’s go, chop chop,” she claps her hands in time with her words. “I want to officially be able to call you my sister.” 

Joaquin chuckles. “You’re part of the reason we’ve wasted those years not being together, Lina. Forgive us if we want to actually date for the first time before the whole marriage thing.”

You squeeze his hand under the table and he turns to look at you, a smile on his face. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, ignoring the sound that Lina makes at the public display of affection. 

He’d almost died a few months ago without knowing your true feelings. You’d both wasted so much time trying to get over the other without knowing. 

Joaquin is going to make sure he never wastes another second with you.

–––––

Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please ask if you'd like to be added!)

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[littelovelunette]

Sevika with a reader who's her eye candy or gamble helper. Ik that Sevika doesn't need to cheat or do something extreme to win her games but i can't stop imagining myself on her lap or next to her as she plays her game, I'm distracting the men on the table slightly so she can win easily. Maybe by winking or something else😭😭 OH MY GOD thank you for feeding me I'm recommending you to my friends🙏🙏✂️

Eye Candy

Contains suggestive themes, implied exhibitionism, penetration using beer bottle, gambling, slight implied seduction.

You knew Sevika barely needed your help during her poker games, but what did it hurt to actually help either way? Just for the shits and giggles. You were seated on Sevika's lap, legs propped up against her other leg, your dress was short, riding up with every little movement.

Sevika held her cards with her mechanical arm while her flesh arm rested on the curve of your ass. You were being as provocative as possible today, flashing grins towards the drunken men playing against Sevika.

Every now and then, Sevika gave your ass a squeeze and you helped her take a deep inhale of her cigarillo. It was like this almost every night since you both entered a relationship, you would be the eye candy to distract the other players as Sevika played. Although, you knew Sevika was a natural at poker as it was, it didn't hurt to help her fasten the pace of her victories.

Sevika finally said, “Cash me out.” The room went silent for a beat before the men groaned, cursing under their breath as they realized they'd been played—again. Sevika's lips curled into a smirk as she leaned back, her grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

One of the men, clearly more drunk than the rest, slammed his cards on the table. "You always win, Sevika. It's starting to piss me off," he slurred.

"You should get better, then," Sevika retorted, voice as cool as ever. She flicked the cigarillo between her fingers, taking another slow drag before exhaling the smoke in his direction. You chuckled, shifting slightly on Sevika's lap. Her hand slid further up your thigh in response, and you shot the man a taunting smile. "You could always try your luck again tomorrow. But, y'know, luck has never really been on your side."

The man sneered but didn't push further. He knew better than to challenge Sevika beyond the game. One of the other players, already half out of his seat, shook his head. "You two are fuckin’ insufferable together."

Sevika merely shrugged, gathering her winnings with a lazy grin. "And yet, you all keep coming back." Sevika shifted to hold you properly. The shift in position made your dress hike up even more, not that you cared. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, pressing a lingering kiss to her jaw as she watched the men putting the cash on the table before stalking off to get more drinks for another possible round.

"Feeling smug?" you teased, nipping at her skin.

"Always," Sevika murmured, her voice dropping lower. Her flesh hand slid further under your dress, fingers teasing against your thigh. "But you know what I feel even more?" You hummed, eyes half-lidded as she pressed you up against herself, her body flush against yours. "Like rewarding my good luck charm."

Sevika glanced at the other patrons, none of them caring to spare the both of you a glance. They knew better than to interfere an intimate moment. “What are you gonna do to me?” You questioned with a grin. Sevika didn't answer and instead her fingers hooked at the crotch of your panties.

“You're soaked.” She chuckled before pulling them to the side so she could massage your mound. “Tell me, what's gotten you so wet?” Sevika whispered in your ear.

“Just you, darling. Just you.” Your hand traced her jaw. “I want you to fuck me. Right here.” Sevika's brow quirked.

“Well, aren't you an interesting one?” Sevika teased as she felt your wetness with her fingers, rubbing your pussy lips slowly. Sevika's gaze wandered on the table before it landed on a half finished beer bottle. She grabbed it, chugging down the last few sips before pressing the cold beer bottle against your slit. “I want you to relax for me so I can push it inside.” Sevika said, her mechanical arm rubbing your tits over your dress. You swallowed seeing the beer bottle.

No way in hell would something that girthy fit inside, you shook your head. “Sevika, that's gonna break in me…” you mumbled, looking up at Sevika. Sevika kissed your temple.

“Don't question me, just comply like a good bitch.” You blushed but nodded, legs spreading more so she could insert it. You took a deep breath, trying to relax your muscles despite the lingering nervousness that wrecked your mind.

You gasped feeling the cold intrusion slowly push past the initial resistance of your pussy, fingers clutching Sevika's thighs as your own trembled. “Oh my gosh. Sevika, it's so cold.” you murmured before biting your bottom lip to try to keep yourself from moaning.

“Don't you just love the thrill of public sex? Puttin’ on a little show for everyone in the club tonight, hm?” Sevika taunted as she moved the beer bottle in circular motions to get you used to the feeling of having something that wide inside.

After a little bit of her doing that, Sevika started gently moving it in and out. You tried to not tighten around the bottle, knowing fully well it could shatter. But the thrill kept you on the edge all throughout the time. “Sevika…” you moaned her name under your breath. Sevika's lips found your neck, nipping and leaving dark hickeys for everyone to see.

You knew no one was really watching but you still felt so dirty in this vulnerable position. “Come on, love. You can give me one before they come back. Can't you?” Sevika asked in a sweetened tone, pumping the bottle in a steady pace.

Your slick covered the bottle completely, low wet obscene sounds issuing under the table where Sevika was completely ruining you, muttering sweet nothings in your ear.

"Sevika, I'm so close.” you whispered, your head tilting back as your fingers roughly grabbed the older woman's thighs, your grip tight on her. Your pussy was dripping wetness down from the beer bottle to the floor by now.

“Already? Geez, getting fucked up in public does turn you on real good, doesnt it?” Sevika smirked, biting your shoulder making you gasp audibly, your legs twitched and then it happened. Your creamy liquids formed a white ring around the beer bottle which Sevika then slowly pulled out of your pussy.

“Hm, interesting.” She said in mock thought, turning the bottle to let the fluids drip to the floor. “Seems like someone's gonna question when they clean this place up.” Sevika whispered. “You really fuckin’ enjoyed it, didn't you?” Sevika put the bottle away, hand covering your pussy completely making you feel the warmth of it.

The sudden temperature difference felt oddly soothing causing you to lean into her touch more. Your hand let go of her thigh. “Sevika, are you really gonna gamble another round or can we go home?” You mumbled, looking up at her with puppy eyes.

Sevika sighed, rubbing your pussy slowly, “I guess we could call it a night, my tired little angel.” She kissed you and you eagerly kissed back. A little too eagerly making Sevika chuckle against your lips.

“Come on, up you get.” Sevika picked you up bridal style, your eyes widened seeing your dress slide up and you quickly pulled it down to your mid thighs. You knew Sevika had your panties and she didn't want to give it back anytime soon.

“You meanie.” you buried your face in the crook of her neck in embarrassment.

“Only the best.”

[lovingdynamight]

Mha boys when they have a crush on you vs dating you

—————————————

Paring: Katsuki Bakugo, Denki Kaminari, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya x reader

Genre: fluff

_______________________

Katsuki Bakugo

✦ First of all, denial. Hard, aggressive denial. There’s no way he likes you. Nope. Not happening.

✦ Spoiler: It’s happening.

✦ He gets annoyed at how much he notices you—your laugh, the way you talk, the way you tilt your head when you’re confused. It’s all infuriating (because it makes his heart race, and he HATES it).

✦ The second someone suggests he has a crush, he’s exploding. “THE HELL ARE YOU TALKIN’ ABOUT? I DON’T LIKE ‘EM!” (Yes, he does.)

✦ Despite his denial, he’s always around you. If you’re in the common room, so is he. If you’re training, he suddenly needs to train too.

✦ If someone flirts with you, his entire mood shifts. He won’t admit he’s jealous, but he will suddenly feel the urge to outshine whoever’s talking to you. (“Tch. Like that extra could even keep up with you.”)

✦ If you ask him for help with training, he acts super cocky about it, but deep down, he loves that you asked.

✦ Blushes when you compliment him but immediately covers it up with grumbling. “Damn right, I’m great.” (Meanwhile, his ears are bright red.)

✦ The type to bully his crush affectionately. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t waste his time teasing you. If he calls you an idiot, it’s probably his love language.

✦ His love is shown through actions. He’ll shove his jacket at you if you’re cold. He’ll bring you your favorite drink without a word. He’ll walk you back to your dorm and say it’s just “because you’d probably get lost or somethin’.”

✦ When he finally confesses, it’s not smooth. At all. Probably happens after he gets jealous. “Look, dumbass, I like you, alright?! So stop messin’ around with those other extras!”

✦ He’s the most possessive boyfriend. Not in a toxic way—he just wants everyone to know that you’re his.

✦ PDA? It depends. He won’t be all over you in public, but he will sling an arm around your shoulders or keep a hand on your waist to make sure people get the message.

✦ However, in private? Oh, yeah. Big softie. Will hold you for hours if you let him.

✦ Not a huge fan of pet names but will call you things like “dumbass” or “idiot” in an oddly affectionate way.

✦ But if he ever calls you something genuinely sweet (“Hey… you look good today, babe.”), it means everything.

✦ Aggressively supportive. If you’re struggling, he’s yelling about how strong you are. “You’re not some weak extra! You’re better than that! Now get up and prove it!”

✦ Acts annoyed but secretly loves it when you steal his hoodies.

✦ If you’re hurt, he’s hovering. Fuming. Yelling at the nurses to take better care of you. (“Fix them faster, dammit!”)

✦ The king of forehead kisses. He does them absentmindedly sometimes, like before he heads to bed or when he’s pulling away from a hug.

✦ Will fight literally anyone who upsets you. Doesn’t even ask what happened, just “Who do I gotta kill?”

✦ If you ever try to leave after an argument, good luck. He hates unresolved fights and will literally pick you up and carry you back.

✦ Secretly a cuddler. Won’t admit it, but if you fall asleep next to him, he’s not letting go.

Denki Kaminari

✦The most obvious crush in Class 1-A. If Denki likes you, literally everyone knows except you.

✦Flirts with you constantly. Even if you brush him off, he keeps trying. “Come on, babe, don’t break my heart like this.”

✦However, the moment you flirt back? Glitching. Buffering. Might actually short-circuit if you catch him off guard.

✦Finds any excuse to be around you. If you’re sitting, he’s sitting next to you. If you’re standing, suddenly he needs to stand right there, too.

✦Shamelessly asks to hold your hand all the time. “For science. I just wanna see if we have, like, good chemistry, y’know?”

✦If anyone else flirts with you, he’ll pretend it doesn’t bother him, but his dumb little pout says otherwise.

✦Subtly protective. If he notices you look uncomfortable, he’ll step in like, “Heyyy, there you are! Been looking for you!” even if he wasn’t.

✦The human charger. If your phone is dying, he insists on charging it for you. “See? I’m useful. You need me.”

✦ Laughs at all your jokes, even the bad ones. If you make fun of him, he just grins and goes, “Damn, you really like me, huh?”

✦Casually drops hints about liking you but makes it sound like a joke. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.” (He’s not joking.)

✦When he finally confesses, it’s probably in the middle of a casual conversation. “By the way, I’m, like, super in love with you.”

✦Clingy. If you’re in the same room, he’s touching you in some way—a hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist, leaning his head on you.

✦Loves PDA. If you let him, he’ll hold your hand, hug you from behind, and drop so many cheek kisses.

✦Calls you so many nicknames. Babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, lovebug, shockingly attractive, the list goes on.

✦Steals your stuff. Hoodies, accessories, snacks—it’s all his now. “I wear this hoodie better anyway.”

✦If you ever wear his hoodie, though? Malfunctioning. “Holy sh—okay, keep that forever.”

✦The most dramatic boyfriend. If you’re gone for five minutes, he’s whining, “I missed you so much.”

✦Gets jealous easily but tries to play it cool. Usually fails. “Yeah, whatever, I’m fine. It’s not like I’m mad or anything.” (He is definitely mad.)

✦Insists on being your human charger anytime your phone dies. “See? I’m the best boyfriend. Unlimited battery, baby.”

✦If you’re upset, he’ll do everything to make you smile—even if that means electrocuting himself on purpose to make you laugh.

✦Cuddle monster. He will literally wrap himself around you like a human blanket. “You’re warm. I’m comfy. This is how we live now.”

✦Kisses constantly. Especially your cheeks and nose. If you’re flustered? Mission accomplished.

✦Brags about you all the time. “Yeah, my s/o is literally the coolest person alive. I don’t make the rules.”

✦Loyal to the core. If someone talks bad about you, he’s ready to fight. Probably not a good idea, but he’ll still try.

✦Just so in love with you. Tells you every day. Probably writes your name with little hearts in his notebook.

Shoto Todoroki

✦ At first, he doesn’t fully realize he has a crush. He just notices that he enjoys being around you more than anyone else.

✦ You’re the only person he actively seeks out to sit next to in class or during lunch. If someone else takes the seat? He just stands there, waiting for them to move.

✦ He’s not super obvious, but you might catch him staring at you a lot. And if you ask why, he’ll just say, “I was thinking about something.” (That something is you.)

✦ If you ever compliment him, he takes it very seriously. You could say, “You look nice today, Todoroki,” and suddenly, he’s replaying it in his head for the rest of the week.

✦ Struggles to make small talk but will always listen to whatever you have to say, no matter how mundane. You could be ranting about your favorite snacks, and he’s nodding like it’s the most important conversation of his life.

✦ He’s not a jealous person, but if Denki or someone flirts with you, he’ll suddenly insert himself into the conversation, staring at them until they get uncomfortable and leave.

✦ If you’re ever cold, he offers the left side of his body without hesitation. Literally just— “You can use my fire.”

✦ You make him smile without realizing it. Sometimes he’ll catch himself smiling after you say something funny and quickly go blank-faced again.

✦ Now that he knows for sure he likes you, he’s much more direct. “I like you. Be my s/o?” No hesitation, just vibes.

✦ Dates with him are either extremely fancy (five-star restaurants because Endeavor’s money) or ridiculously casual (“Do you want soba?”). There is no in-between.

✦ Not big on PDA, but if he sees other people looking at you, he will put a hand on your back or casually hold your hand as a silent flex.

✦ He’s not used to being physically affectionate but learns quickly. If you initiate a hug, expect him to just hold you there for a while.

✦ Tries to learn your favorite things so he can surprise you with them. If you mention liking a certain dessert, expect it to randomly appear in your dorm or on your desk.

✦ If you get sick or injured? He’s sitting by your side, watching you like a hawk, making sure you rest properly.

✦ Lowkey competitive about being the best boyfriend. If he sees another couple being cute, he immediately takes notes. “Do you want me to call you cute names? I can do that.”

✦ If you tease him, he’ll stare at you for a long moment before hitting you with a dry, unexpected comeback that leaves you speechless.

✦ Absolutely cherishes you but doesn’t always know how to express it with words. Instead, he just shows up and does things for you—helping with training, bringing you snacks, or simply being near you.

✦ Occasionally drops the most romantic lines without even realizing it. You could be joking about something, and he’ll just go, “I’d go anywhere if you were there.”

✦ If he ever kisses you in public, it’s brief but meaningful. But in private? He’s surprisingly soft about it, cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Izuku Midoriya

✦ Blushy mess. The second he realizes he likes you, he’s doomed. Face red, hands fidgeting, brain short-circuiting anytime you talk to him.

✦ Overthinks everything. Did he stare too long? Did he say something weird? Should he say something now? Oh no, you’re looking at him—PANIC.

✦ You can always tell when he’s flustered because he starts rambling.

✦“You’re really strong! I mean, you’ve always been strong, but I’ve been watching— WAIT, not in a weird way! I just mean you’ve improved a lot, and—”*

✦ Writes about you in his notebook. He’ll analyze your fighting style, strengths, weaknesses—but there’s also a random section like: “They looked really cute today.”

✦ If you get hurt in battle, he immediately drops everything to check on you. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? Do you need Recovery Girl?”

✦ SO SUPPORTIVE. If you’re training, he’s hyping you up. If you’re struggling, he’s offering help. He’ll literally never let you doubt yourself.

✦ Tries to act casual around you but fails horribly. His friends figure it out before he even tells them.

✦ If you compliment him? Dead. He freezes, stammers out a thank you, and turns the color of a tomato.

✦ Low-key jealous but won’t admit it. Instead, he’ll silently sulk and train harder. “I have to be stronger…” (Translation: I must be worthy of them.)

✦ You could breathe in his direction and he’d probably write a mental essay about how amazing you are.

✦ The sweetest, most caring boyfriend ever. He remembers the little things—your favorite food, how you like your tea, that one random fact you mentioned weeks ago.

✦ Constantly checking on you. “Did you eat? Are you getting enough rest? You’re not pushing yourself too hard, right?”

✦ Loves holding your hand. It calms him down, and he thinks it’s the most comforting thing in the world.

✦ Still gets flustered when you kiss him, even if you’ve been dating for a while.

✦ Study dates! If you ever struggle with schoolwork, he’ll patiently tutor you (and definitely get distracted just admiring you).

✦ If you get hurt? Full-on panic mode. He’ll carry you to Recovery Girl himself if needed. “You need to be more careful! I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you…”

✦ PDA? Minimal. He’s shy about it, but he’ll hold your hand or press small kisses to your forehead when no one’s looking.

✦ If you’re upset, he’ll listen for hours and offer the most heartfelt advice. “I know it’s hard, but you’re strong. And no matter what, I’ll always be here.”

✦ If you ever wear his hoodie? Meltdown. He thinks you look so cute in his clothes. “T-That’s… um… it looks good on you.” (Brain officially short-circuited.)

✦ Rambles about you to All Might. “They’re incredible, sensei! Their technique, their determination—oh, and did I mention how amazing they are?”

✦ The type to whisper ‘I love you’ when he thinks you’re asleep.

✦ If he ever gets jealous, he won’t lash out, but he’ll get extra clingy after. Might even pull you in for a surprise hug just to reassure himself you’re his.

✦ Always puts you first. Your happiness, your safety, your dreams—he wants all of it for you.

—————————————

Thanks for reading.

First time doing head cannons let me know if we want more of these or one shots along with what kind of scenarios for head cannons and one shots.

All works done by me. Reblogs comments and likes are encouraged and appreciated. Make sure to leave request in my inbox.

[mejaemin]

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i’m sorry - lee jihoon

18+ mdni !!! wc: 1.8k summary: baby fever w jihoon >< warnings: unprotected sex, mention of birth control, lowk subby jihoon, small 👌🏽 breeding kink, a bit of arguing in the beginning, v little fingering, he’s kinda ooc in this sorry 😞, NOT PROOFREAD !!! an: my first time writing full on smut since summer and it’s also my woozi debut !!! enjoy !!! (srry if it’s kinda bad.. i did this in like an hr…)

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jihoon’s been zoning out all day, and yes, it’s partly from being sleep deprived, but a large chunk of it is because his mind has been elsewhere. even now, while you’re laying in bed when he knows you’re mad at him, he simply can’t get out of his head.

today, you and him went out for a visit to a music shop, fueled by your café drinks of choice. you were simply trailing behind him, humming tunes to yourself while he looked for a new studio keyboard. everything was fine, moving in silence just how you guys liked it, when he saw you pulling away from his arm to speak to someone.

when he turned to face you, you were crouched on the ground, talking to a teary-eyed little boy. he watched silently, eyebrow raising at the way you managed to calm him down so quickly. you had turned to him shortly after, apologizing before going to help the child find his parents.

he was so distracted by your ability to handle the child, and then disturbed by the way it was plaguing his thoughts, that he ended up buying the same keyboard he’d been using instead of buying a new one like he had wanted. when you returned to him, he was quiet, quieter than usual, stuck in his thoughts.

he tried to pretend like he wasn’t listening, ignoring the way you spoke to the boy so softly, in a voice he’d never heard you use before. you were handling him so well, so good at calming him down. it’s hard to determine whether or not he wants you to speak to him like that, or be cooing at a baby of your own. you’d look so gorgeous like that, and he’s sure he looks like an idiot, staring all beady-eyed at piano keys, picturing you with his baby, cradled in your arms, growing in your stomach…

that led to your current situation, where you’re both lying in bed next to each other in complete silence. the only noise in the room is your phone, various audios filling space as you spend the entire evening doomscrolling in your anger.

you’re upset because you’ve caught jihoon staring at your stomach multiple times since your date. typically you wouldn’t be one to feel insecure, but his gaze is so intense, so focused, so hard. it had you wrapping your sweater around yourself a little tighter, curling into yourself a little more. when confronted, he’d say the same thing every time; “you look fine. i can’t look at you anymore?”

he sounds so snippy with it too, and it got to a point where you ignored him the rest of the day. you couldn’t be bothered to deal with any of that.

that’s why you’re so surprised when he reaches over to shut your phone off, putting you on your back before straddling your hips.

“what the hell are you doing, jihoon?” you would’ve said more, but looking at his face, blurry behind a mask of fluffy hair, you can see the cogs in his brain turning, along with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t miss.

his hands splayed over your stomach, thumbs pressing into and massaging the skin. his look is pensive, and his pale cheeks are turning pink. he leans down, placing his head in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses all over every inch of the skin.

“i’m sorry..” he says, gently nipping at your soft skin. his hair tickles your cheek, and you use a hand to pull it away from his face, simultaneously pulling him away to face you.

pulling the hair tie from your own wrist, you comb through his hair with your fingers before tying it back. “are you gonna explain yourself? why you keep drilling holes into my stomach, and then giving me attitude when i ask about it?”

he looks away, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. he breathes in a few times, like he’s gonna start talking, until he finally blurts out,

“do you want children?”

“excuse me?”

he grimaces, running a hand over his face. “sorry- that was.. not what i wanted to say…”

you just give him a look, not only bewildered but also still very annoyed, and he continues, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel insecure, i just can’t stop thinking about..” he pauses, embarrassed, “about us.. having a baby.”

you nearly laugh, or scoff, or maybe even both, but with the way he’s hiding in your neck, still running his hands all over your stomach, you know he’s serious.

“really, hoon?” you say it almost teasingly, and he grumbles, nodding into your skin. “you want to have a baby with me?”

you run your nails along his back, and he shudders, letting out a gasp, so sweet and so sensitive, that you start feeling your own body get a little hotter.

“yes,” your name spills from his lips, breathy and desperate, “please..”

“that’s why you’re staring at my tummy so much, hm?” you take his cheek in your palm, bringing him closer and closer, wasting no time in splitting his lips apart, holding them against yours and letting your tongue connect with his own. it’s sloppy, slow, and both yours and his lips are glistening with spit when you pull away.

“wanna fill me up, give me a baby?” you run your hands all over his face, tracing over all his hard, sharp features that soften when you talk to him like this, and he’s nodding almost aggressively, repositioning himself to be kneeling in between your legs.

slipping your pants off, he runs his thumb over the small wet patch in your underwear, hooking his finger under the waistband and letting it snap back before tugging them off as well. he looks so desperate, hands almost shaking as they squeeze, tug, and grip at your thighs and hips.

“please..” he mutters, leaning in to kiss your jaw, plush lips closing in on the skin, sucking at it until the skin reddens, purple marks making their way to the surface.

he’s quick, rushing the process as his fingers dip into your wetness, gliding over your folds before letting one of his fingers slip inside. he curls it, pressing into your walls the way he knows you enjoy, getting you used to the feeling before quickly adding a second finger. his palm presses into your clit, and you moan, arching your back into him and slowly grinding on his hand.

he hums, thrusting his fingers a little deeper, separating them and stretching you out before losing patience and pulling them out.

one hand pulls at his basketball shorts, nearly ripping them off his lower half along with his boxers while the other sits in his mouth, groaning as he cleans your juices off.

“so wet, baby, already.. i can’t wait anymore, i’m so sorry, wanna get you pregnant so badly..” he rambles, tensing when you wrap your hand around his cock.

“it’s okay, hoon, go ahead.” you stroke him a few times, squeezing his length, fighting the urge to moan at his face, nearly pained with pleasure. “go on, give me your baby..”

that’s all it takes, coaxing him on like that, for him to push his way in with one swift motion. as soon as the base of his dick meets your skin, your entire body rocks, a sharp moan forcing its way from your lips. he’s so still, so silent, not only letting you adjust to being stretched by his girth, but also holding himself together, avoiding an early orgasm with his pure desperation to be inside of you.

“hoonie..” you whine, squirming to try and get some sort of movement.

he hisses, sucking in through his teeth, before grabbing your hips and slowly pulling out, leaving nothing but the tip, before forcing you back down with nearly all his strength. he picks up the pace quickly, muscles flexing under his black tee as he drags you against his cock.

he’s too lost to fuck you with any rhythm, stifling his own moans and whimpers with his lip between his teeth. eventually he pulls out, flipping you on your back and pressing almost his entire weight on top of you before resuming.

the sound of skin on skin can likely be heard throughout the entire house, wet noises and the scent of sex potent throughout the entire bedroom. your hands tug at the pillows, just about ready to rip holes in them as jihoon pounds you into the mattress, the entire bed shaking with his lust ridden force.

“fuck, baby, i’m sorry, i can’t- i won’t last long, you’re so tight, i-“ he whimpers, tugging on your hair, squeezing your hips to ground himself, trying and failing to push his orgasm away.

you whine, moans staccato, being pushed out with every contact his hips make with your ass. “h- hoonie, please.. please cum in me, want your babies so bad..”

he gets impossibly quicker, propping himself up on his elbows to chase his high with everything he has. one hand slips between your body and the mattress, fingers finding your clit and frantically rubbing against it to bring yourself to the edge with him.

your head is spinning, reeling with the feeling of his dick slamming into you so rapidly, hitting that spot just right. his fingers move so deliberately, so attentively to how you want it despite jihoon being in his own world, and your body burns with pleasure at the sensation.

you’re so close, the string in your lower half nearly breaking when you feel it. it’s almost an itch, cold and tickling at your back, and you turn your head to the side to look at what it is when you hear a sniffle.

jihoon’s crying, failing to hide his own vocalizations, as he moans, tears spilling from his eyes. “so good, baby, gonna cum, fill you up..” he gasps, feeling your cunt flutter around him at the desperation in his voice. “squeezin’ me so good.. i’m sorry, i-“

he stops, stilling. his teeth find your shoulder, sinking into the skin as he cums. you feel it, warm and hot in your stomach, painting your insides, and it throws you into your own orgasm right after. your eyes are screwed shut, legs shaking as you cry out. his fingers never stopped, hips twitching as he rubs you through it, only stopping when you grab his wrist.

he pulls away, pulling out and rolling over onto his back. quickly and “discreetly” wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he rests an arm over his eyes and catches his breath.

you turn on your side, scooting closer until you can put your head on his chest. “hoon, you know i can’t even get pregnant, right?” you remind him, referring to the birth control he comes to pick up with you every month.

you can see his face get impossibly redder. he sighs, “yeah.. babies are kinda gross anyway.”

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svt 🏷️ @coquettejunnie @prettymoles

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

This is off topic but the switch direct featured a game called Disney villains cursed café, and it got me thinking, what if Yuu ran a café in twst

I saw the trailer myself and instantly thought of Twst! 😭

Maybe Yuu wouldn’t be able to have their own café (lack of capital for startup), but they could be the Mostro Lounge’s barista or something? They have what appears to be a bar-like area:

It could be considered a part-time job to supplement the monthly allowance Crowley gives Yuu! It’d also be a good way for them to spread the Magic of Friendship and interact with the student body way more than what is shown in the main story.

If that part-time job goes well and Yuu enjoys it, maybe it could be a viable career path for them once they graduate NRC (assuming they don't find a way back to their world)? With a degree from a prestigious arcane academy + connections built by then, Yuu could surely net some financial backers and set up shop in Foothill Town (or even on NRC campus!). They could even have drinks and sweets themed after the dorms of inspired by their classmates. Since a lot of the expendable items in Twst gameplay are edible, it would also be so cool if Yuu recreated them for their business. Friendship Popcorn, Leaping Macarons, Rich Card Cookies, Limelight Waffles, Lucky Cupcakes, Starshards, Friendship Tea, Secret Snacks, breads drizzled with Blooming Honey, etc. It sounds like the beginning of a cozy fantasy novel www

In Disney Villains Cursed Café because I want to talk about how silly it is, you play the part of a "potionista" and serve magical brews to various Disney villains in a modern setting. Your choices will influence the villains' ambitions and result in different things happening in their storylines! Some stories teased include:

Gaston attempting to impress his golfing buddies

Hook wanting to be the star of a community theater production

Maleficent seeking to dominate on social media

Ursula becoming a reality TV sensation

The art style is very stylish, and I'm always a sucker for games involving food and fairy tale motifs 🤡

Some customers you'll meet include Ursula, Gaston, Jafar, Captain Hook. Cruelle De Vil, and Maleficent (in casual wear!). asdbasoydasd The Mistress of Evil using her staff as a selfie stick in the promo art makes me laugh a little 😅 Gaston looking preppy and athletic is also super fitting, but Jafar looks so different in a hat and suit that I had to do a double-take when I first saw him.

If you pay close attention, you'll also find Easter eggs in the decor and background! For example, Flotsam and Jetsam are in a glass container on the left of your counter, and the Magic Mirror seems to be mounted on the right. You'll find customers seated at tables and enjoying their drinks (JAFAR WHY ARE YOU HUNCHED OVER LIKE THAT... I also spot what seems to be the Evil Queen in one screenshot?)

Yzma also makes an appearance; apparently, she helps you with ingredients upgrades to make even more powerful potions.

THIS IS SO SILLY... My brain is just superimposing the NRC boys in these scenarios and that magnifies the silliness 😭

Ursula's "I went to the beach today and NO ONE wanted to make a deal with me" gives Azul being dramatic on an NRC school beach trip energy OTL Maleficent wanting to be a social media influencer is so ironic given that Malleus doesn't know how tf to use technology and regularly breaks phones... Vargas going on a golfing trip... Crewel wanting a hot brew to take the edge off of dealing with unruly pups all day... TWEELS CRAMMED INTO A JAR FOR THE AESTHETIC... Paparazzi trying to sneak a photo of Vil at a café... Jamil being a chuuni by declaring his drink teleports him to a powerful lamp, only to reappear a yard away under a ceiling fixture lamp... This just SCREAMS of the NRC students/staff terrorizing a local business/j Not me hoping that fan artists do crossover art/art inspired by interactions in this game...

[malsmind]

"now you can feel me, even when i'm not there."

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris is going on tour agian, which means he can't fuck you. well, he's still gonna. just not entierly himself.

warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, use of sex toys, pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart)

english is not my first language!

chris going on tour again with his brothers was planned for a long time, but that didn't mean you'd miss him any less. no falling asleep together, no waking up together, no cuddling, and no sex.

chris already got you a huge plushie to make up for the cuddles that he won't be able to give you while he's out and about, making sure it smells like him before giving it to you the day he had to leave. but there's one more thing that unfortunately didn't make it in time.

because now, chris was on the road, on his way to texas for the first show. he told you to call him when the package he wouldn't shut up about arrived at your door step. he's been giggling about it the entire time before he left, refusing to tell you what it was. so when you came home from work later today and saw a pink giftbox placed on your doorstep, the first thing you did was call your boyfriend.

“did it arrive??”

you put your phone on speaker and sitting down on your bed, the box infront of you.

“hello to you too” you chuckled.

“hi, baby. did it arrive?”

“yes, chris.”

you could hear chris giggle on the other end, requesting to facetime you. you accepted, and you were immediately greeted with a huge smirk spread across chris's face. you couldn't help but laugh at how excited he seemed, like he was the one recieving a gift. you were excited too. chris wouldn't shut up about how he thought of 'the craziest gift ever' for you, something that'd help you get through the time apart from him.

“open it.” chris encouraged with a big grin, watching you as you analyzed the package, thinking about what it could be. you reached out to untie the little bow, putting it aside. when you went to lift the lid off of the box, you saw chris's grin widening, eyes glinting with mischief when the lid finally came off.

your lips parted, brows knitting together in slight confusion as you looked at the silicone item infront of you.

“a dildo?” you questioned, looking at him with a confused smile.

“not just any dildo.” chris said, watching you as you took the toy out of the box, examining it.

you thought hard about what you were holding in your hands. surely that's not the 'craziest gift ever' that he was on about, right? you noticed how this particular dildo looked a little different from the standard ones you could order somewhere.

and then you realized. the tip, that one vein, the length, everything.

“shut up, you did not!”

“oh, you know i did.”

you looked up at your phone with a smile, chris smirking at you trough the screen.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

you were wating for chris to call. tour didn't start until the next day, so chris was out with his brothers for dinner, meeting up a few friends. he kept texing you, making sure you'd wait for him to get back.

you sighed, putting your phone down and walking into the kitchen to get a drink. before you could open the fridge and grab one, you heard your phone ringing. you sprinted back to your room quickly, clicking accept on the call, laying down on your bed again.

“hey, beautiful. thought about you all night.”

“i miss you, chris. how was your night?”

“let's talk about that later, okay? how about we put your new gift to use..” chris suggested, his voice low and you could hear his blanket rustling.

“what about nick and matt...?”

“they're still out, baby. don't worry about it.”

you bit your lip, looking over at your nightstand where the toy was. still in the box. reminders of the day before chris left flooded your mind. moans filling the room, his dick buried deep inside of you.

“you okay baby?” chris's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. you grabbed the dildo, fingers tracing the cruve of the tip. it was crazy how accurate the toy was. every curve, every vein of chris's perfect cock, now molded into silicone for you to use whenever he was away. you put it down, turning your attention back to your phone.

“it’s… pretty fucking accurate, chris.”

he grinned, a flicker of heat coiling in his chest. “thought you’d like that. you using it yet?”

“not yet,” you admitted, and he could hear the smirk in your words. “waiting for you to tell me what to do with it.”

“fuck,” he muttered, his free hand already drifting down to adjust himself through his jeans. his dick twitched at the thought of you, legs spread, that toy in your hands. “alright, then. get comfortable, angel. take that shirt off—i know you’re wearing mine—and lie back on the bed.”

there was a soft thud, the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and he imagined the way your skin would look in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, all soft curves and shadows. “done,” you said, your voice a little breathier now. “what next?”

“grab it,” he instructed, his own breath hitching as he unzipped his jeans, freeing himself into the cool air of the bunk. his cock was already half-hard, thick and heavy in his palm. “run your fingers over it first. tell me how it feels.”

“it’s… cold,” you said, and he heard the faintest hitch in your tone as you touched it. “smooth, though. kinda weird how it’s so you. like, i can feel that little vein under the head, just like the real thing.”

“yeah?” he smirked, stroking himself slowly, his thumb brushing over that same vein on his own dick. “warm it up for me, then. put it in your mouth—get it nice and wet.”

a quiet whimper slipped through the phone, and he could picture it: your lips parting, sliding over the tip, your tongue tracing the shape of him. the sound of your soft, wet sucks came through the speaker, faint but enough to make his grip tighten, his hips shifting against the mattress. “shit, baby, you’re killing me,” he groaned. “how’s it taste?”

“like silicone,” you said with a small laugh, pulling back. “but i’m imagining it’s you. makes it better.”

“good girl,” he rasped, his voice dropping lower. “now slide it down—tease yourself with it. rub it on thet pretty pussy f'me.”

the line went quiet for a second, just the sound of your breathing, and then a shaky moan as you followed his command. “fuck, chris,” you whispered. “it’s… it’s right there. feels so good.”

“tell me,” he urged, his hand moving faster now, precum slicking his fingers. “what’s it like?”

“it’s wet,” you said, your words trembling. “i’m so fucking wet. god, i wish you were here.”

“me too, sweetheart,” he growled, his imagination running wild: your thighs parted, your pussy glistening, that toy—his dick—gliding through your folds. “push it in now. slow. let me hear you.”

your gasp was sharp, raw, and it hit him like a punch. he could hear the faint, slick sound of it sliding inside you, stretching you open, and your next words came out in a rush. “oh fuck—it’s big. filling me up so good, just like you do.”

“yeah?” his voice was strained, his balls tightening as he pictured it: your cunt gripping the dildo, your hips rocking against it. “fuck yourself for me. pretend it’s me fucking you—deep and hard.”

your moans grew louder, punctuated by the rhythmic creak of the bed, and he matched his strokes to the pace he knew you’d set, his cock throbbing in his fist. “chris—fuck, it’s so good,” you panted.

“attagirl,” he praised, his teeth gritted as heat surged through him. “keep going. fuck yourself with it—let me hear how wet you are.”

the sounds were obscene now. the wet squelch of your pussy, the slap of your hand guiding it in and out, your broken cries spilling through the phone. “fuck, yes.” you managed, voice hitching. “—fuck, chris, i’m gonna cum.”

“do it,” he snarled, his own release barreling closer. “cum all over my cock, baby—”

your scream was muffled, like you’d buried your face in the pillow, but it still sent him over the edge. his hips bucked, cum spilling hot and thick over his hand, splattering onto his stomach as he groaned your name. for a moment, there was just the sound of both of you panting, the aftershocks trembling through the line.

“shit,” he said finally, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he caught his breath. “you’re fucking incredible.”

you laughed, soft and sated. “i miss you so much, chris”

“i miss you too, angel.” he said, wiping his hand on a stray shirt. “think you can hold out with my little stand-in ‘til i'm back?”

“maybe,” you teased. “but i’m keeping this thing close. might need another round tomorrow.”

“just can't get enough of my dick, hm? now you can feel me, even when i’m not there.”

phone dividers by @kodaswrld

—

an: @sweetshuga gave me the idea for this LMAO. this is 4u isa i hope u like it :p

—

@emely9274 @impossiblecollectorcat @staargazr @sllutty-sturniolo @shadowthesim237 @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @grace-sturnz @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @ncm9696 @rcklessheavn @sophand4n4 @amyiasturnl @ivysturnss @loser41ifee @helpimateenagerinlove @joanakaulitz @colorthecosmos444 @tits4matt @pasteldreams @h3arts4nat

[leclercsixteen]

𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍 ! ᶠ¹ ᵍʳⁱᵈ

for the sake of my survival ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

𝒇1 grid x 𝒎ale reader synopsis: reader has an alcohol problem and, after some light snitching, is dropped in the middle of the f1 season because of it. he struggles through rehab with little to no contact with his friends, but he comes out the other side swinging, ready for a second chance at racing and at life in general.

genre: angst, smau, REDEMPTION!! warnings: alcoholism & rehab, oscar & charles being snitches, die joke in texts

requested? nope author's note: my dad is 26 yrs sober so like kinda inspired by him ahaha ALSO!! sorry for not posting anything i’ve had no motivation lately for finishing fics ahhhh im sorry 😭😭

masterlist. navigation.

HIS FINGERS WRAPPED around another clear shot glass, the translucent liquid inside it sloshed around as he quickly brought the small cup up to his mouth. He threw his head back, and he barely had a reaction as the liquid burned his throat; to someone else, it could be a painful and horrible experience, but to him, it was comfortable and something that he knew well.

Y/n reached for his beer bottle and took a large swig of that immediately after he slammed his shot glass onto the table. He wasn't alone, but everyone else at the table was too deep in conversation to care that he was most definitely taking it too far.

Max sat across from him, the driver that they were celebrating tonight, and he was almost as far gone as y/n was. Today was the Bahrain Grand Prix and the 2023 season opener. Y/n didn't place too high, he ended up in 13th so it earned him not a single point for Haas, but Hülkenberg placed 15th so it made him feel a little better.

Maybe that was his reasoning for drowning himself in tequila and Coronas, but y/n hardly ever had a reason for his behavior.

"You okay, mate?" Oscar, the McLaren driver who ended up sadly DNFing the race, walked up to y/n's side, who was sitting on the edge of the booth in the corner of the bar. He was the most sober one out of all of the drivers that were invited to the bar after the win, which he usually was. His hand came down on y/n's shoulder, and he dipped his head to make eye contact with y/n's unfocused eyes.

"Hmm?" Y/n hummed with a small chuckle. He wasn't too far gone as he was used to his liquor, but he was starting to reach his peak. "Hi Oscaaaaar," y/n dragged out the a in Oscar's name once he recognized the Australian driver who moved his shoulder.

Oscar's brows furrowed, "Hi, y/n. I asked if you were okay." He became more concerned as the seconds passed. Oscar, while quite emotionless and quiet, noticed everything, including y/n's love for alcohol and getting as drunk as he could at night. "You're really drunk. I'll go get you some water, alright?"

Y/n just smiled and nodded at the McLaren driver. He whined quietly when Oscar moved away. If he were sober, he would be insanely embarrassed, but he wouldn't remember this moment in the morning, no matter how hard he tried to.

The time between where Oscar left and appeared back at y/n's side was a blur, so it seemed as though Oscar stepped away for a quick second to y/n. Oscar came back with a large glass of water with a straw shoved between the crushed pieces of ice.

"Drink this," Oscar demanded as he slid the large cup of water onto the table before y/n. With an eye roll, y/n leaned forward and took a large sip of the water before leaning back in the booth. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head back against the booth seat. "Hey," Oscar pats y/n's cheek with his hand, causing his eyes to open. "Stay awake. I'm going to drive you home, alright?"

Y/n nodded as his eyes fluttered shut once more. Oscar sighed and turned to the rest of the table, which was still deep in conversation.

"Hey," Oscar called out over the loud music, which caused all of the heads to turn towards him. "I'm taking y/n back to the hotel," he nodded his head over to y/n, leaning his head on Oscar's shoulder as his eyes closed. "You guys all good?"

A chorus of different positive responses came back to Oscar, but Charles, who also unfortunately DNF'd today, spoke up. "Do you need help? I know where his room is," he leaned forward on the table. He was sitting to Max's left, so he leaned forward so Oscar could hear him better.

"That would be nice, yes," Oscar chuckled lightly. Charles slid out of the booth and helped Oscar get y/n out with a slight struggle. The two more sober drivers nodded to their driver counterparts before heading towards the exit. Y/n's arms were pulled over Oscar and Charles's shoulders as he sluggishly walked between them.

"Thamk you," y/n mumbled when they stepped out the front door and onto the sidewalk. Charles and Oscar glanced at each other over y/n's head and sighed.

Most nights usually ended up like this for y/n, drunk and thrown over two drivers' shoulders while they led him back to his hotel room. Tonight was no different. He slumped in the backseat of Oscar's car, and Charles and Oscar talked in the front seat.

Oscar glanced at y/n in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Once y/n's eyes were closed and he was leaning against the door, he spoke up. "Charles, I'm worried about him," his voice was low in case y/n was listening, even if he knew that y/n wasn't going to be able to remember this when he woke up in the morning.

Charles glanced up from his phone at Oscar. He looked over his shoulder to look at y/n, who was starting to drool on the window. With a sigh, Charles nodded. "Yeah," he breathed out, "me too." Charles wasn't stupid; he knew if something was going on with his friends, and there was something definitely going on with y/n. "But I don't know what to do about it," he sighed, defeated, as he shifted in his seat and faced forward.

"I know," Oscar drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he bit the inside of his lip. His eyes traveled from car to car as they passed, as he was stuck at a red light. He slumped in his seat and shook his head, "I just...I don't know. I hate seeing him like this. He's been like this for a while, and I just don't know what to do about it. I don't want to bring it to the FIA or Haas, but I might have to."

Charles nodded. "Yeah. I don't want him to lose his spot, but it could be dangerous for us if he shows up to a race like this," he gestured to y/n over his shoulder with his thumb. Charles picked at his nails, a nervous tick that manifested over the years.

The silence was tense in the car after their conversation had been left at that. Both Charles and Oscar knew it was the best thing to do for y/n and for the rest of the drivers that they shared a track with, but that didn't make them feel any less guilty for thinking of the idea.

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, haasf1team, and others

f1 BREAKING: Kevin Magnussen to replace Y/n L/n for the rest of the 2023 season.

After some behind the scenes discussions with the Haas F1 Team and L/n, the two have decided to part ways and Magnussen will replace L/n for the rest of the season.

#F1 #Formula1 #HaasF1Team

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userone yo wtf????

usertwo ok wtf is going on with y/n??? he was performing great his first two seasons, but then he dropped down and started with haas, and now he’s no longer racing????

userthree justice for y/n!!! ⤷ userfour bro it sounds like he wanted this to happen 😭😭

userfive ok now what

usersix when i put mid season driver swap on my bingo card i didn’t mean y/n and magnussen???????? ⤷ userseven right??? like i really liked y/n even if he didn't bring in many points because he always had that 'give no fucks' attitude that not many drivers have ⤷ usersix maybe that's why they dropped him?? ⤷ userseven hmm it could be but i don't think so. he's been like that since he was in f3.

usereight NOOOO MY SHAYLAAA 💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭

usernine thank god, he's a danger to the grid and he brought in NO points for haas ⤷ userten yeah but neither did hulkenberg so like idk

posted april 4th, 2023

TIME SKIP — one year later

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, logansargeant, and others

youruser sober & bleach blonde.

view all comments

usereleven HE'S BACK???????

usertwelve after being gone for a year this is all you're posting????? what happened to hey hello how are you??????

logansargeant everybody cheered for sober y/n ive missed you ⤷ youruser i've missed you too logun sargun 💔

userthirteen sober????? am i missing something here

userfourteen is this implying that y/n was an addict or smth

oscarpiastri sorry for tattling on you btw ⤷ youruser i'd probs be dead in a ditch by now if it wasn't for u and charles thank you osco

charles_leclerc life is finally almost back to normal now ive missed u y/n 💔💔 ⤷ youruser charlssss i've missed you too omfg 💔

userfifteen im crying its a family reunion in the comments 😭😭

lando time to get to work, y/n!! a year long break is too long 💔 ⤷ youruser i agree lando, time to beat ur ass in padle

alexalbon please spare me ⤷ youruser i've practiced padle nonstop for a year i won't spare anyone

usersixteen i've missed you y/n 😭💔💔

userseventeen is the goat going to come back to f1????? ⤷ youruser depends if they want me back or not 🤷🤷 ⤷ userseventeen ??????????? f1 espnf1

danielricciardo fucking finally max isn't funny enough for me ⤷ maxverstappen tf?????/ ⤷ youruser ladies please not in my comments

liked by youruser, danielricciardo, lando, and others

f1 BREAKING: Y/n L/n to be Haas F1 Team's reserve driver for 2024.

After disappearing for a year from the internet, ex-Haas driver Y/n L/n is back and better than ever as he's signed as their new reserve driver for the 2024 season!

#F1 #Formula1 #HaasF1Team

view all comments

usereighteen this was not on my 2024 bingo card bro

usernineteen is this like....legal????? ⤷ usertwenty haas is so down in the dumps the fia hardly cares what they do

youruser the fight is back in haas! ⤷ usertwentyone is this kevmag slander????? ⤷ usertwentytwo definitely sounds like it....

usertwentythree haas is stacked, and i say this only because of y/n and because i want them to win ⤷ usertwentyfour oh that is sooooo real

logansargeant Y/N IS BACK ON THE GRID I REPEAT Y/N IS BACK ON THE GRID!!!!!!!! LET'S PARTAAAAYYYY ⤷ youruser Y/N IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER!!!!

EVEN THOUGH Y/N was just a reserve driver, the FIA had everything locked down when we came back for the 2024 season; 3 sparkling grape juice bottles sat off to the side of the podium and away from the champagne in case he had to drive for one of his teammates and made it to the podium.

There was also a strict alcohol brand partnership rule; the brand must have a nonalcoholic version of their drink for the drivers to have a partnership. The FIA didn’t do this themselves, of course, it was brought forward by y/n’s team and they watched with a close eye if problems were to come to front.

But, other than that, everything was good for y/n for his return. He wasn’t getting as much publicity as his teammates were from the Haas team, but he made a significant impact on the other team’s social pages. Maybe it was his friends doings, but he got a welcome back post from Ferrari, McLaren, Red Bull, AlphaTauri, and Williams.

The rest of the season didn’t go in y/n’s favor much as he was only thrown into a car for the Monaco Grand Prix. He and Hülkenberg DNF’d the race as Checo crashed into both of their cars, forcing a restart of the race. Despite getting the fastest lap in one of the free practices, y/n wasn’t allowed back in a Haas unless completely necessary.

It was no surprise that y/n announced he wasn’t going to be with Haas for the 2025 season, but it was a surprise when it was announced he was going to be racing alongside Max for Red Bull, taking Checo’s seat. Y/n mentioned something about karma in a pre-season interview, but if you asked him about it, he would say he didn’t know what you were talking about.

The FIA was a lot more strict with their rules on champagne for the podium because for this season, it was a lot more likely for y/n to get on the podium in a Red Bull than it was last season in a Haas, and as a reserve driver. So, when y/n pulls out his best performance in years for the Australian Grand Prix and the 2025 season opener and ends up taking P2 next to Lando and George, the three of them pop open their sparkling grape juice bottles—after all double checking they were actually the grape juice—and covered each other in the sticky liquid.

It was an emotional roller coaster for y/n, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was living his best life with his friends, completely sober and walking towards a lifetime full of racing and nonalcoholic beers.

tags: @milessunflowers @lokisen @kevinlolwife @op-81-lvr-reblogs @kazanskied @481rosier @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[inseobts]

Fool

law x reader

you meet your former captain again after months, after having walked away from that unrequited feeling, not knowing that, in reality, he loved you too (part 1 - if only she knew but you can read and enjoy this even without reading the other one)

inspired by the song: fool by winner

a/n: uhm idk if this sucks but I did it based on my fav group's music so be nice eheh (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡ also I firstly made it about zoro but then I got reminded of an old request (if only she knew) so I turned it into a sequel for law.

words count: 3.5k

tags: angst, argument, regrets from law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The crowded port buzzes with life, laughter, and the scent of grilled seafood wafting through the air. You weren’t expecting to run into them, into him. But fate, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor.

The Heart Pirates.

You spot them before they see you, their familiar ship docked near the edge of the harbor. For a second, you consider turning around, walking away before anyone notices. But then a loud, familiar voice cuts through the air.

"Hey—! No way! It's you!" Penguin’s excited shout freezes you in place, and in an instant, all eyes are on you. The crew’s expressions shift from shock to joy, and before you know it, you’re being pulled into warm greetings, pats on the back, and teasing complaints about how long it’s been.

But one pair of eyes lingers on you longer than the rest. Law stands at the back, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place. But there’s something there, a flicker of something in his golden gaze that you can’t quite place.

The tension is broken when Shachi grins "You gotta eat with us today! Just like old times. No excuses."

You hesitate, but your stomach betrays you, growling at the thought of a warm meal. And the truth is… you missed them. More than you’d like to admit.

"Fine," you sigh, rolling your eyes "But you’re paying."

The crew erupts in cheers, dragging you toward their ship, the warmth of old friendships making it impossible to say no.

Dinner is chaotic, loud, and full of laughter. The crew fills the space with stories of their latest misadventures, and for a while, it feels like nothing has changed. But beneath it all, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the space between you and him.

As the plates pile up and the drinks flow, the crew starts throwing casual questions your way.

“So, how have you been?” Bepo asks, his voice gentle, though his eyes are searching.

Shachi leans in with a knowing smirk “Yeah, how’s life been treating you?”

Their words are light, playful even, but you can hear the unspoken question beneath them. They all know. They knew before you left. They had seen the way you looked at your captain, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

And they had seen the way he looked at you leaving, even if he never admitted it.

The room may be full of laughter, but there’s an undercurrent of tension, one that only grows when Law remains silent, nursing his drink and watching you from across the table.

Penguin nudges your arm, his grin teasing but his eyes soft “Bet you haven’t found anyone to boss you around like a certain captain of ours.”

You roll your eyes, playing along “Like I’d go looking for that.”

The table erupts in laughter, but there’s a knowing look exchanged between them all. They’re testing the waters, trying to see if your heart still beats for him, but careful not to push too far. And as much as you try to brush off their words, you know the answer. It never stopped.

From the other side of the table, Law exhales sharply, setting down his drink with just a little too much force.

The crew exchanges glances. They’ve been waiting for this. They had hoped that bringing you back, even if just for one night, would finally push the two of you to talk. But as they watch the tension build, they realize they can’t force this. Whatever needs to happen between you and Law can only happen if you’re alone.

Then something happens, maybe an accident, a spilled drink, or just the natural (or so they act like) shifting of the group, but suddenly, you and Law are alone. The noise of the crew fades into the background, leaving only the two of you there.

The setting sun paints the sky in shades of gold and pink as you stand outside the tavern, staring out at the ocean. The breeze tugs at your hair, but you don’t feel it. Your thoughts are elsewhere, tangled in the mess that the crew just made to leave you two alone.

And then Law.

He’s the only thing on your mind right now. He’s the reason your heart feels like it’s being torn in two for months, or even years at this point. You missed him like hell, but the words he said to you, before you left, will never leave your mind…

“Get lost from my sight.”

They echo in your ears, stinging with every memory of just one the moments he made you feel unwanted. He has always been distant, and you always tried to reach out. You tried so hard. But that night, everything in you snapped. You got tired of his anger, his harsh words, they cut deeper than anything you expected.

You turn away, unable to face him again. The tears threaten to spill at the memories, but you fight them back. His words hurt, but it’s more than that. It’s the feeling that something between you is broken now, something that can’t easily be fixed.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there, close but not close enough. You can feel the space between you, thick with unspoken words and regret. Your back remains turned to him, but you don’t have to look to know he’s still standing there, his presence heavy in the air.

Finally, his voice breaks through the silence. It’s softer than you ever remembered, because now there’s something else... regret. You can hear it, and it twists something in your chest.

“Get lost from my sight.”

You don’t turn around. His words still feel like a slap in the face, even though the venom has faded from them. Law’s not speaking to you now. He’s speaking the truth of what he felt in the moment, the words he had let slip too many times in his anger.

“Those cruel words… I spat out without hesitation.” His voice trembles, a small crack breaking through his usual composure “Anyone can see… I was a fool.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but you don’t say anything. What’s there to say? He’s the one who pushed you away, and now, here he is, broken, admitting to it.

You take a deep breath, your throat tight, as you finally turn to face him. His gaze is on the floor, his fists clenched, but you can see the regret in his eyes. It’s raw. It’s real.

“Even if I’m sorry now, nothing changes. I know.” His voice is quieter now, the weight of what he’s said settling between you both “Nothing changes...” he repeats, more to himself than to you, as if trying to accept it.

Law steps closer, and you don’t move. You’re not sure if you want him to come closer. He’s the one who pushed you away, and yet, here he is, still reaching for you in his own way. His voice breaks the silence again.

“It’s okay to swear at me, even that’s not good enough. I just wanna hear your voice. I just wanna hear you talk to me...” His words feel fragile, like he’s hanging on by a thread, and you can feel his desperation in every syllable.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? What can you say after everything that’s happened?

“Fool, stupid. I now know it’s all my fault.” His voice cracks as he says it, the self-loathing dripping through every word “Dummy, idiot. I now know it’s all my fault.” He shakes his head, the weight of his mistakes crushing him “I pushed you away.”

You stand still, watching him, not knowing what to do. He’s broken, you can see that, but can you forgive him so easily? He hurt you so badly that part of you doesn’t know if you’re ready to let him back in.

Law takes another step toward you, this time closer than before, and you instinctively take a small step back. He notices but doesn’t say anything. He seems unsure of everything now.

“I said I was selfish. Only knew myself. I think I’m crazy.” His voice is barely above a whisper, the regret so deep it almost hurts to hear “It’s me who pushed you away.”

The words hit you like a punch. You know he’s not lying. He has been selfish. He’s pushed you away. But hearing him admit it… you want to believe that it’s enough, that his regret is real.

But still, you stay quiet, unsure of how to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He steps even closer now, his eyes searching yours, like he’s begging you to say something, anything.

“I was a fool” His voice falters, and his gaze drops to the ground as he shakes his head “Even if I regret it now, nothing changes, and I know it.”

There it is again, the finality in his voice. He knows the damage is done. He knows you might never look at him the same way again. And that hurts. More than anything.

You feel your heart aching, but you don’t know what to do with it. His regret is clear, but is it enough? Is it enough to fix what he’s broken?

Law reaches out, but stops just short of touching you. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, and then he lets it fall, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t care if it’s just a short moment. I'm glad I could see you once more… For the last time.”

His voice cracks, and you can feel the desperation in him. He wants something from you, but what? Forgiveness? Understanding?

“You used to dazzle, and now you’re far away. Going through the scattered memories, I long for you every day.” His words are soft now, almost pleading.

You take a shaky breath. His voice, his confession, it all makes you ache, but you still don’t know what to say. You want to reach out, to tell him that it’s okay, that you forgive him. But you’re not sure if you can just let it go that easily. The hurt is still there.

“Yes, I know I’m late. But please... I wish you could just come back as if nothing happened.” He speaks the words as if he’s begging the universe itself to let you come back to him. But you don’t know if you can.

You turn away, not because you want to, but because you don’t know how to respond. His words, his pain, they echo in your mind, but you’re not ready. Not yet.

The silence between you both is deafening. Law stands just a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face still full of regret and confusion. He doesn’t know what else to say. You can see it in his eyes he’s waiting for something, anything from you. His gaze flickers over your face, searching for a sign that you’ll let him in again.

But you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re not sure if you can.

The world around you feels distant, like everything is happening in a dream, and you’re not sure if you want to wake up.

Law shifts his weight, taking another small step forward. You hear him inhale deeply, the weight of his next words heavy in the air.

“I know I’m late,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough to cut through the silence “I know I messed up, and it’s my fault. I was selfish. I only thought about myself. And now… now look at what I’ve done.”

His words are raw, stripped of all his usual bravado. This is the Law you’ve never seen before, vulnerable, lost, and so deeply ashamed.

You feel your chest tighten as his words settle into your bones. The storm inside you rages on. You’re angry. You’re hurt. But you’re also confused. You want to hate him. You want to shout, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But every time you look at him, every time you hear the sincerity in his voice, it feels like something in you starts to crumble.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean the things I said. I… I was stupid. I didn’t think.” his voice cracks, and you can hear the frustration in his tone “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me being so… so careless.”

You stay silent. You can feel the anger rising in your chest, the hurt threatening to swallow you whole, but you can’t say it. Not yet. Not when he’s standing there, looking so torn apart.

Law takes another step closer, his voice trembling with the weight of his words.

“I know I was an idiot. A complete fool. I pushed you away, and now I’m the one who’s paying the price” He’s so close now you can almost feel the heat of his body, but the space between you both feels like a vast ocean. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the depth of his regret, the raw pain that he’s trying to hide “But I can’t stand this. I can’t stand being without you. I need to hear your voice. Please… just give me one more chance.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with all the force of the emotions you’ve been trying to bury. The storm inside you threatens to explode, and for a moment, you can’t hold it back anymore.

You turn to face him fully, your heart hammering in your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his expression pleading, desperate.

“Fool, stupid,” you hear him mutter again, almost to himself “I now know it’s all my fault.” He’s repeating it like some sort of mantra, the guilt weighing him down with every word.

You want to scream at him. You want to throw your anger in his face and tell him how much he’s hurt you, how much you’ve been suffering because of him. But instead, your voice cracks as you finally speak.

“Law…” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to get his attention. His eyes lock onto yours, searching, hoping.

“I… I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that,” you say, your voice trembling “You hurt me. You pushed me away without thinking about how I felt. I gave you what you wanted before leaving for good. I gave you your space. All while I was hurting, thinking you hated me. And now you expect me to just forget it?”

Law flinches, the weight of your words hitting him harder than anything else. His face falls, guilt flashing across his features.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he says quietly, almost to himself “I just… I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I know it’s too late, but I needed to say it. I needed you to know that I was wrong. I’ve always been so focused on myself, on the crew, on work… but you were right there beside me, trying to help me and all I did was pushing you away because of my own pride.”

The sincerity in his words cuts through the tension like a knife. You can see it in his eyes now, the man you’ve known for so long, the captain who’s always carried himself with such confidence, now breaking down in front of you. He’s not just asking for your forgiveness. He’s asking for a chance.

You swallow hard, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You’re torn. Part of you wants to forgive him, to reach out and pull him into your arms and tell him it’s okay, that everything will be fine. But another part of you feels like that would be too easy. Too quick.

Law’s head drops, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His hands fidget at his sides, unable to find comfort in anything. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to fix what’s broken.

“Please,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible “Just… just let me make it right.”

You stand there, torn between the feelings of anger, sadness, and the remnants of the love you’ve always had for him. His words are genuine, but is it enough? You don’t know. You don’t know if anything will be enough to undo the hurt he caused.

But as you look at him, really look at him, you see the pain in his eyes, and you feel the wall inside your heart start to crack.

You can’t undo the past. And maybe it’s too soon to forgive him fully. But you can’t let him keep carrying this weight by himself either.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing in your chest.

“I don’t know, Law,” you say quietly “I’m not just going to pretend nothing happen.”

Law nods slowly, his expression a mix of regret and relief. He doesn’t speak, but you can see the understanding in his eyes. This is far from over. The road to healing, to forgiveness, will be long and difficult. But for now, this is a start.

“I know,” he whispers, stepping back, giving you space “I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You nod at him, because maybe that’s enough for now.

The silence between you and Law is thick, heavy with everything that has been said and everything that hasn’t. His eyes are still on you, searching, waiting, but you don’t know if you’re ready to give him a proper answer. Not yet. The emotions swirling inside you are too much, too tangled to sort through in just one moment.

Then, just as you open your mouth to say something the sound of hurried footsteps echoes from the shadows. Before either of you can react, the crew bursts into the room, their faces alight with mischief and unrestrained grins.

“Ahh, finally!” Penguin announces, throwing his arms up dramatically “Took you two long enough.”

Your stomach drops “Wait, what—”

Bepo nods sagely “We were listening the whole time... sorry.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you glance at Law, who pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply “Of course you were...” His voice is flat, but you can hear the underlying exasperation.

Shachi waves a hand dismissively “C’mon, Captain, don’t act like you’re mad. We did you a favor.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor” Law grumbles, crossing his arms.

The crew doesn’t care. Instead, they exchange knowing looks before turning their attention to you.

“So,” Ikkaku starts, leaning in with an eager expression, “does this mean you’re back?”

Your breath catches in your throat “I—”

“I mean, you missed us, right?” Shachi adds, wiggling his eyebrows “And you obviously missed our dear Captain here.”

You shoot him a glare, but the heat creeping up your face betrays you. Law, for his part, looks about two seconds away from kicking them all out, but the crew is relentless.

“Look,” Penguin says, his grin softening into something more genuine, “we just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

Bepo nods again “You belong with us. With him.”

Your heart twists at their words, and you glance at Law, who’s watching you carefully. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, hope, uncertainty, a silent question only you can answer.

The room feels impossibly small with all eyes on you, but deep down, you already know what you want. You’ve known all along. This is your family. And Law… Law is the person who has always held your heart, no matter how much pain the journey brought you.

Taking a deep breath, you meet Law’s gaze and finally speak “If you’ll have me… I’d like to stay.”

For the first time that night, Law’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile “Idiot,” he mutters, but his voice is softer now, tinged with relief “You never had to ask.”

The crew erupts into cheers, celebrating your return like it’s the greatest victory of all. Shachi and Penguin slap Law on the back, while Bepo all but tackles you into a hug. The warmth of their acceptance, their excitement, is overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you needed.

Law doesn’t say anything else, the crew slaps his back more and he loses his balance and is now close enough that your shoulders brush.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. A faint blush dusts both your cheeks as you get lost in the quiet intensity of his gaze, drawn into each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist.

The noise in the room gradually dies down as the crew starts noticing, nudging and elbowing each other with smirks and wide grins. One by one, they fall silent, watching as you and Law remain caught in each other’s stare, completely oblivious to everything around you.

Then, just as the moment stretches unbearably long, Shachi clears his throat loudly “Oi, oi, are you two gonna keep making heart eyes at each other or what?”

The spell shatters instantly. You and Law both snap back to reality, faces burning, while the crew bursts into laughter and cheers once more.

Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you can’t stop the small, genuine smile that tugs at your lips. Because in this moment, with Law beside you and your family around you, everything feels right.

You’re home.

[rhyslarsenlover]

his exception

warnings: bsf!rafe cameron x innocent!reader, power imbalance, loss of virginity, rafe being a softie, p in v, praising, breeding kink, 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

rafe wasn’t entirely sure when he started caring this much. it wasn’t like he woke up one morning and decided, yeah, i think i’m going to be completely obsessed with my best friend today. it just happened.

maybe it was the way you’d trail after him at parties, like a loyal puppy, trusting him to keep you safe when it got too crowded. or how you always had that soft, wide-eyed look when you turned to him, like you expected him to know all the answers. it made him want to be someone worth trusting. someone you could lean on.

which is why you were on his yacht, tucked into his side like you belonged there. you sighed, curling deeper into the warmth of his chest. “you didn’t have to bring me out here, you know.” rafe scoffed. “you looked miserable in my room. what was i supposed to do? leave you there?”

you peeked up at him, eyes gleaming under the dim deck lights. “most people would have.” he rolled his eyes. “yeah, well. i’m not most people.” that was an understatement. he’d ditched all of his friends, the country club, just because you looked so lonely in his room, where you’d usually spend the day waiting for him to get back from the club. he’d stolen you away, steering you onto his yacht without so much as an explanation, and now you were sitting on his deck, legs curled beneath you, sipping the drink he made you like this was just another saturday night.

and the worst part? it felt normal. like this was just something you did. like you weren’t wrapped in his hoodie, all soft and sleepy, making his chest ache in a way he didn’t know how to name.

you nudged him with your elbow. “you’re quiet.” rafe hummed, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. “just thinking.” “about?” he shrugged. “dunno. life.” you. you smiled, like you knew he was full of shit but weren’t gonna call him on it. instead, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. it was easy, natural. you always did things like that. touched him without thinking, folded yourself into his space like you belonged there.

rafe had never minded before. but today, something about it felt different. like he was standing on the edge of something big, something that had been waiting for him to notice it. maybe he had noticed. maybe he’d just been ignoring it.

your voice broke through his thoughts, soft and teasing. “you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

rafe looked at you, at the way your fingers played with his, like it was the most natural thing in the world. at the way you trusted him enough to fall asleep on his shoulder when you got too tired, to let him take care of you without question.

he squeezed your hand. “yeah,” he murmured. “i’d tell you.” you grinned, satisfied, and leaned your head against his shoulder. “good.” rafe exhaled, letting his chin rest lightly against your hair. yeah. he was so screwed. you stood up with your now empty glass, bending down to place it on the low table. little did you know that your short mini skirt had risen as you bent over, revealing a glimpse of your panties. rafe’s eyes caught sight of the scene, widening as he involuntarily groaned which caused you to turn your head, “you okay?” you ask, worry laced in your tone. “c’mere, princess,” he says as he opens his arm, motioning for you to sit in his lap, and you happily oblige. one strong arm wrapped around your waist, another holding his beer bottle, one that he hadn’t touched. you frown slightly, “you want some water?” you ask softly, watching as he looks up at you, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip, “got all i need on my lap, right here,” he says, a small smile on his lips.

his words had an indescribable effect on you, and you shift in his lap, trying to ease the tingling feeling you could feel in your pussy. his next words were low and warning, “stay still, or you might regret what i’ll do.” you grin, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you move your hips again, teasing him. “such a fucking brat,” he says, placing his beer on the floor beside his chair.

you didn’t really expect he’d do much, rafe was always so good to you, as far as you were concerned your rafe was an angel. but push an angel too hard and he might just fall. He moves his now free hand to the hem of your skirt, pushing it up slightly, “always dress so pretty for me, don’t ya, princess?” he says, eyes focused on your reaction. expressions of shock and then a flash of desire as you stared at his big, veiny hand. “you okay with me touching you, y/n?” he asked, seriousness written across his face, you nod quickly and let out a quick, “please.”

he chuckles and his fingers run over your panties, rubbing over your clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips as your eyes flutter closed. “this what you do when your own, hm?” he asks, not looking away from every micro expression on your face. “i’ve heard you, y/n. when you think i’ve left and your all alone in my room.” his voice is gravelly, thick with lust. “hear you whining, dreaming about my dick,” he continues as he slips a finger beneath your panties and pushes it inside of you. “god, y/n, you’re so wet for me.”

your lips part, heavy breaths leaving your lips as rafe adds another finger inside of you, his thumb circling your clit each time he slides his fingers in. he pulls his fingers out abruptly, licking his fingers as he maintains eye contact and a whine leaves your lips again, feeling empty.

instead of responding, he hooks an arm under your legs and picks you up bridal-style, carrying you to his cabin down the steps of his yacht. you leave kisses along his neck, wanting so desperately to make him feel good. he kicks his door shut behind him and sets you down on his plush king-sized bed, an adoring smile on his lips as he takes you in, his princess.

rafe leans down, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. he runs his hands through your hair, deepening the kiss as he presses you gently onto the bed. pulling back slightly, he whispers against your lips, "god, i’ve been dreaming of this for so long, y/n. you don’t know what you do to me.” you blush, avoiding eye contact as you realise your inexperience, “rafe i’m not sure you mean that, especially since.. i’m you know..” you take a breath, “a virgin.”

his expression turns tender, his voice gentle as he looks into your eyes. “y/n i already knew that, and being your first makes me feel like the luckiest guy alive. being your only means that i promise to make you always feel good.” he says, his voice a million times softer than you had ever heard. of course, rafe was always soft with you, but this was extra. and it made you feel all soft and special. “please, need you rafey,” you beg, eyes big and pleading.

“you have no idea what hearing that does to me,” he slowly starts undressing you and himself, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation. he had never been nervous in his entire life, especially not with girls. but you were his girl, sweet y/n. he couldn’t say it out loud, but he loved you and he wanted to make you feel like the royalty that you were.

“want my cock inside you baby?” he asks, watching for your reaction, instead you whine again, unable to form words as he trailed the tip of his length along your slit, catching on your pink clit. rafe groans softly, his eyes darkening with desire as he feels your wetness against his tip, he couldn’t bear it any longer. forcing himself inside of you. he thought he could go slow, but you were insatiable. “taking me so good, baby, mm,” he groans, as he feels you clamp around him.

you moan loudly, appreciative of his side, he filled you up perfectly and you were so wet that it was easy for him to thrust. “faster, rafe!” you shout, lifting your hips with him as he fucked you faster.

his hand moved to your clit again and you couldn’t contain yourself, a loud moan tumbling from your lips as you came unexpectedly. your juices pooled around his dick, a loud squelching as rafe continued to pound into you. his breath became ragged as he neared his high, quickly pulling out and coming on your stomach.

a pout formed on your pink lips, “wanted your cum inside me, rafey,” you say, your voice small as you worry that maybe he didn’t think you deserved it inside you. “oh baby, that’s for round 2,” he grins, dipping his finger in his cum and bringing it to your lips. you instantly wrap your lips around it, sucking and humming in pleasure before popping off with a smile, “delicious!”.

“god, i can’t wait for round 2,” he says, chuckling as he leads you to the bathroom.

a/n: ok i NEED him rn. also sorry if theres typos, i didnt proofread :/

[women-in-ssports]

Sidelines and spotlights

In this high school AU, Azzi, the star soccer player, and Paige, the standout on the basketball team, have always existed in separate worlds—until a teammate’s crush sparks an unexpected deal. If the soccer team shows up to support basketball, the favor must be returned. What starts as a simple agreement quickly turns into something more as Paige and Azzi find themselves drawn together in ways neither expected. But with growing tensions on and off the court, they’ll have to decide if their connection is just part of the game—or something worth fighting for.

Chapter 3 | Party Hardy

Paige strolled into Gabe’s house with KK and Nika, still annoyed that KK wouldn’t give her Azzi’s number. As they poured drinks, she tried one more time.

“KK, let me see your phone real quick.”

Out of habit, KK started to hand it over, only to snatch it back at the last second.

“Nice try, P,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You want her number? Get it from her yourself.”

Nika just laughed, sipping her drink. Paige shook her head, scanning the party for Azzi but only spotting the soccer girls. Before she could dwell on it, Aubrey called out, “Paige! Be my BP partner!”

Grateful for the distraction, Paige joined her. As they set up, she caught sight of Tyler faltering when Trinity, his ex, casually wrapped an arm around Aubrey’s waist. KK, noticing, leaned toward Caroline.

“What’s up with them?”

“They used to date,” Caroline replied easily. Then, without looking away from the game, she added with a knowing smile, “Azzi’s grabbing our drinks.”

“Oh.” Paige kept her expression neutral, but she quickly downed her drink.

Azzi reappeared just as Paige lined up her next shot. Paige turned to her without thinking.

“Hey, Az, what are you drinking?”

Azzi blinked, like she hadn’t expected Paige to talk to her. “Uh… Shirley.”

Paige tipped her empty cup toward her. “Mind if I have a sip? You know, to ease my nerves?”

KK and Nika exchanged glances, and Caroline gave Azzi a slight nudge forward. Azzi hesitated only a second before stepping closer, smirking.

“After that shot? Maybe take two sips.”

Paige laughed, taking the cup. “Alright, this next one’s for you.”

She shot—perfect sink.

“For you,” Paige murmured, locking eyes with Azzi before turning back to the game.

KK wasted no time slipping beside her. “Damn, calm down, P.”

Paige, suddenly warm, snatched KK’s cup and took a sip.

The game went on, but Paige’s focus was elsewhere—on Azzi, who stood just far enough away to be out of reach. When the match ended, Paige saw her slipping toward the back door.

Without thinking, she followed.

“Hey, Az,” she called. “Want some company?”

Azzi paused, then gestured to the seat across from her. Paige took it without hesitation.

Azzi’s expression was unreadable as she asked, “Are you the reason I got put on my ass today?”

Paige blinked, thrown. “What?”

Azzi stayed steady. “Are you?”

Paige ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah.”

Azzi nodded, sipping her drink, letting the silence stretch.

Paige, nervous, just started talking. No filter, no breaks.

She told Azzi about Casey—how it started, how she ignored the signs, how she walked into a game one day and saw Casey with another girl. How Casey flipped the script and accused Paige of cheating first. And the worst part? The girl Casey cheated with was the same one who helped Azzi up after Casey fouled Azzi earlier that day.

“I swear, I had no idea she was on your team. And I definitely didn’t plan what happened today.” Paige exhaled sharply. “The whole ‘basketball team supporting soccer’ thing? That was just for Aubrey and Trinity.” She hesitated. “But then, the last two days… I don’t know. The little conversations we’ve had made me realize—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re really pretty. And smart. And ridiculously good at soccer. And—damn, you can hit someone on that field.”

She laughed lightly, but her heart pounded. “And… I like you.”

The words hung between them. Paige felt exposed, vulnerable.

Azzi just studied her, then finally said, voice teasing, “Good thing I didn’t know all this before the game. Might’ve had that foul going the other way, and we would’ve lost.”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “Azzi, you can’t say that!” she laughed, equal parts shocked and charmed.

Azzi only grinned. “What? I protect my friends.”

Paige tilted her head. “We’re friends?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Paige, feeling bold, leaned in an inch. “Yeah?”

Azzi mirrored her. “Mhm.”

The space between them narrowed until their lips barely grazed—just a breath of a touch. Then—

“Hey! There you two are!” Mel’s voice cut through the air. “Come dance!”

Azzi smirked, stepping back. “Want to dance, P?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Who said you could call me that?”

Azzi downed the rest of her drink, grabbed Paige’s hand, and tugged her toward the music. “We’re friends now, remember?”

The party swallowed them up again. Paige danced with her teammates, but her attention stayed on Azzi, who moved easily between them all. At one point, Azzi slipped behind Paige, hands resting lightly at her waist. Paige responded without thinking, pulling her closer.

For a moment, it was just them, lost in the rhythm, lost in each other.

Then the song ended, and Azzi leaned up. “I’m grabbing another drink. Want one?”

“Yeah. Want me to come with?”

“Nah,” Azzi said, tugging Caroline with her instead.

KK slipped up beside Paige. “Damn, P. Got yourself a girlfriend?”

Paige shrugged, eyes still on the door Azzi had just disappeared through. “Maybe.”

A few songs passed. Paige scanned the party. No Azzi. No Caroline.

When she finally spotted Caroline on the couch, she exhaled—until she saw Azzi standing nearby. With someone else.

And Paige would never forget that blonde braid.

Her stomach tightened, but she had already moved close enough for Caroline to notice. Caroline gave her a careful look but didn’t say anything.

Paige swallowed her nerves and stepped up.

Azzi saw her and gave a small wave. “Paige, this is P.”

Paige’s breath caught at the name.

The girl—Piper—extended her hand. “Piper.”

Paige shook it firmly. “I remember you from yesterday.”

“What brings you here?” Paige asked, voice even.

“Just something to do on a Friday night,” Piper said with an easy grin.

Paige’s gaze flicked to Azzi, who held two drinks. “Is one of those for me?”

Azzi nodded. “This one.”

“Why that one?” Paige challenged.

Azzi smirked. “It’s a Shirley.”

Paige took a sip, trying to ignore the way Piper leaned in, whispering something into Azzi’s ear before hugging her goodbye.

“See you tomorrow, pretty girl.”

Paige didn’t react. She just stepped aside, watching Azzi smile at Piper before turning back to her.

But as Piper walked away, Paige felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.

It wasn’t jealousy.

Paige didn’t get jealous.

But damn if it wasn’t something close.

Azzi grabbed Paige’s hand, pulling her back toward their friends. Paige followed without hesitation, but something inside her shifted. Her walls crept a little higher, her steps a little less eager.

And seriously, what was up with Piper calling Azzi pretty girl every five seconds?

As they rejoined the group, Paige veered toward Nika and KK, choosing the comfort of her basketball girls instead. If Azzi noticed the distance, she didn’t show it, moving easily between Caroline and Mel as they danced.

But in her head, Azzi was confused. Paige had been right there—leaning in, staying close—and now she was slipping away. And Piper… Piper kept showing up out of nowhere. Three days ago, no one cared to talk to her. Now, suddenly, she was supposed to know what to do with all of this?

Azzi turned to Caroline, confusion written all over her face.

“What just happened?” she asked, voice low.

Caroline, mid-sip of her drink, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Paige,” Azzi said, glancing toward where Paige had disappeared into the crowd. “She was just… I don’t know. We were fine, and then suddenly, she’s avoiding me.”

Caroline hummed, swirling the ice in her cup. “I mean, you did just introduce her to Piper.”

Azzi frowned. “So?”

Caroline side-eyed her. “Az, come on.”

Azzi blinked, genuinely lost. “Come on, what?”

Caroline let out a soft laugh. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Azzi folded her arms. “See what?” But did little to look like anything but a sad toddler

Caroline shook her head, grinning like she had a secret she wasn’t ready to share. “Nothing. Never mind. Drink your Shirley.”

Azzi opened her mouth to push further, but before she could, Mel grabbed her wrist. “Come dance again! We need you.”

With one last look toward where Paige had disappeared, Azzi let herself be dragged back to the music, the confusion still settling in her chest.

Across the room, Paige grabbed a drink from the counter and took a long sip. KK and Nika watched her, exchanging a look before KK nudged her.

“Alright, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Paige said, far too quickly.

Nika squinted. “Uh-huh. You were literally just dancing with Azzi like she was the only person in the world. And now? You look like you’re about to fight someone.”

Paige scoffed. “I don’t fight people.”

KK smirked. “Yeah, you just ruin them.”

“Exactly,” Paige deadpanned, taking another sip.

Nika crossed her arms. “Okay, so explain this twin—why are you acting like you just got benched? What did Azzi even do?”

Paige hesitated. She didn’t know what she was feeling, and that was the problem. All she knew was that Piper showing up—again—had done something to her.

She exhaled sharply. “It’s nothing. I don’t care.”

KK and Nika stared at her.

“You don’t care?” KK repeated, slow, like she was testing the words out.

“Nope.”

Nika pointed toward Paige’s clenched fist around her cup. “So why are you gripping that like you’re about to shatter it?”

She scowled and took a sip of her drink.

KK nudged her. “You seem… flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” Paige said immediately.

Nika tilted her head. “Sure twin? Because you don’t get flustered. Like, ever.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “I’m not flustered. I just—” She exhaled sharply. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

KK gave her a long look. “You sure? Because you’re acting like it is.”

Paige groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s not—”

Before she could finish, the music suddenly cut out.

The room went eerily silent for half a second before a voice rang out:

“COPS!”

A wave of movement surged through the house as people scrambled to grab their things and get out. Paige barely had time to react before KK was pulling her toward the back door.

“Come on,” KK hissed. “We are not getting caught here.”

The party turned into a blur of shoving bodies and frantic whispers. Paige caught a last glimpse of Azzi across the room, her expression unreadable, before she was swept outside with the rest of the crowd.

“P, we gotta go.”

For the first time in a long time, Paige hesitated.

“Paige!” KK urged. “Now!”

Paige cursed, taking one last glance toward the crowd — towards Azzi — before following them out the back door.

In the chaos, they never got to talk.

Sunday Morning

Azzi woke up to sunlight bleeding through the blinds and the distant buzz of her phone vibrating.

Then—Caroline’s voice, groggy.

“Az, your alarm’s been going off for, like, ten minutes.”

Azzi shot up so fast she nearly fell out of bed. “What time is it?”

Caroline grabbed her phone from the nightstand, squinting at the screen. “7:45.”

Azzi swore, shoving the blankets off.

Caroline groaned. “You really set your alarm for 7:30 and still managed to be late?”

“Not the time, Caro,” Azzi muttered, scrambling around Caroline’s room, grabbing her uniform, shin guards, anything she could find.

Caroline sighed, sitting up. “You know we have to leave in, like, ten minutes, right?”

“Yes. I know,” Azzi huffed, tugging on her shorts.

Caroline watched her for a moment before stretching. “You good?”

Azzi paused, halfway through tying her shoes.

Was she good?

She barely remembered leaving the party. One minute, she was with Caroline, trying to figure out what Paige was thinking, and the next—the cops showed up, and everything blurred.

And Paige.

Paige, who had been right there, close enough to touch, close enough to—

Azzi exhaled sharply. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Let’s just go win this game.”

Caroline didn’t press further. She just nodded, grabbing her bag.

“Let’s do it.”

They walked out the door, leaving everything else behind—at least, for now.

On the other side of town, Paige woke up with a pounding headache—and, unfortunately, Nika’s foot in her face. Grimacing, she shoved it away, stirring Nika awake in the process.

Across the room, KK was already up, sprawled out on the bean bag, lazily scrolling through her phone. Without looking up, she finally announced, “Girl, boo. I’m starving.”

Paige and Nika groaned in unison, both flopping back onto the bed and pulling the covers over their heads.

But then—Paige sat up again, rubbing her face. “Send me her number, KK. I need to make sure she got home okay.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe KK just knew better than to push it this time, but she didn’t argue. A moment later, Paige’s phone buzzed, and Azzi’s name appeared on the screen.

She hesitated—just for a second—before typing out a quick message.

Paige: You get home okay? You and Caroline? -P

Her mind went to yesterday and she finished her name

-Paige

Meanwhile, across town, Azzi was already locked in for warmups. She never even saw the message.

Worse—right as it came in, she slipped her watch off, causing it to register as read.

So when Paige glanced at her phone a few minutes later, all she saw was a message left on read. No reply.

Her stomach twisted.

Without a word, she turned over, pulling the blanket back over her head.

“Damn,” Nika mumbled, still half-asleep. “You good?”

Paige shut her eyes. “I’m going back to sleep.”

And for the first time in a long time, Paige wasn’t just tired—she was in a bad mood.

[littelovelunette]

concept: What Are Tits? (2)

part 1

concept idea: @onlyvika

yet another sleepy fic lunette is writing at 5 am in the morning bc im such a little simp (⁠〃ﾟ⁠3ﾟ⁠〃⁠)

contains suggestive themes, nipple play, dry humping, mentions of gagging, sexual fantasies

You genuinely had no clue what had went down when you were drunk yesterday. You and Sevika were indeed still friends, but you had a feeling if she ever heard you call her your friend, she'd unsheath the machete in her mechanical arm. When you arrived at Last Drop today, you pushed your way through the crowd and walked to the bar as per usual, ordering your drink and taking a seat.

Right then, you started feeling stares on you, people glancing at you and murmuring something to either themselves or the person next to them. Your brows furrowed slightly but you didn't really question it, you probably did something stupid while you were drunk.

The bartender passed your drink, before lowering his voice to add, "Are you and Sevika dating? I've never seen her so casual with someone who pisses her off during her game." The bartender asked in a hushed whisper.

"What?" You asked almost innocently. "Pisses her off? Shit. What'd I do?" Your fingers fidgeted nervously as you waited for his reply only he didn't give you a proper one.

"You asked her what... Breasts were." He said, looking away as he flushed saying that. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, too. You hung your head low. If Sevika hadn't killed you for asking her that, you could've died out of embarrassment right then and there. All your dignity went flying out of the window.

You saw one of the men she gambled with walk upto you, "Sevika wants to see you." He said with a stoic face making you contemplate whether it would be a wise decision to actually go see her. But you needed to woman up to your actions so you got up, paid for your drink, finishing the shot in one go and approached Sevika's table.

"Hey..." You mumbled in a timid voice, suddenly all your bravado was gone and you felt like a very out-of-place kitten on a cold rainy night. Sevika didn't quite look up at you, throwing her cards on the table, revealing she effortlessly won yet another round of poker causing others to groan.

She got up, gesturing you to follow her. Smoke wafted from her cigarillo that was tucked between those pretty dark lips that you wished you'd get to kiss someday. But now you were worried if you'd see any day at all after today.

Sevika took you to an eerily familiar room and before you could respond, she pinned you to the wall with a slight slam of your body. You yelped slightly, big innocent eyes gawking up at her. "Fuck, and you look like you'd never ask me such ridiculous questions, drunkenly even." Sevika said, flesh fingers stroking your jaw before grabbing it to make you maintain eye contact with her. "Do you even have any memory of what unfolded yesterday?"

You opened your mouth to say no but then everything started flashing through your mind. Sevika's tits.

...They looked warm, soft and squishy... They were perfect in their natural place without even needing a bra, not that she was wearing one... Her areolas were dark, and slightly bigger than the average and nipples now hardening under the cold air of the room.

"Oh my goodness. I am so sorry." You said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Sevika's flesh hand shifted from your jaw to your neck.

"You should be careful what you wish for, doll, or I might as well had just give in." Sevika said, her voice low and deep, she let go of your throat to put her cigarillo out hastily before turning back to you. "You'd... You'd actually hook up with me?" You asked sheepishly.

"Are you saying I have bad taste?" Sevika raised a brow and you shook your head. "No, no, of course not."

The air in the room was tense and you don't know what came over you but something did. It was just so much of an intimate setting and you couldn't help leaning into her touch. Your body was almost out of control, Sevika's flesh arm grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against her firm frame. Your cheeks almost glowing red, you look up at her and she kissed you. Sevika fucking kissed you.

Her kiss was exactly how you thought it'd be, slow and rough. "You owe me, doll." Sevika whispered against your lips. You knew exactly what she meant by that. You didn't even hesitate, pulling the zipper of your dress, slipping the strap right off to expose your plush mounds to the cold air of the room.

Your nipples instantly hardened. "Fuck." Sevika cursed under her breath, her big hands wrapping around your tits and giving them a good squeeze before her thumbs rolled over the nipples. You moaned subtly, leaning back against the wall for support.

Her flesh hand was warm and mechanical hand was cold on your tits, the warmth providing comfort and coldness providing sensuality. Your lips parted when you felt her tracing your areola with her cold metal finger before her flesh fingers pinched your other nipple.

"You're so dirty." You whined, rubbing your pantie-covered crotch against her clothed thigh. Sevika watched you grind your covered pussy against the rough material of her pants, a slow smirk forming on her lips.

"Oh yeah? Yet you're the one actin' like a fuckin' bitch in heat." Sevika pushed her thigh between your legs, slotting it there perfectly while her hands continued taking care of your tits. You desperately grinded against her thigh, shy moans leaving your lips. "Please, touch me more."

Sevika chuckled at your pleas, flesh hand moving to grab your ass and pull you into her body. She bent down to capture your nipple in her mouth, giving it a firm tug using her teeth. Oh, the tooth gap, your nipple caught in between perfectly. You had to cover your mouth so you didn't moan too loudly. "Sevika, someone might catch us like this." You whispered.

"Oh, yeah? You wanna take this to the bed?" Sevika asked before giving you a particularly harsh nip, leaving a hickey on your neck. You whimpered before nodding your head. Sevika gave your cunt a last rub using her leg before pulling away. Without a word, she slipped off your wet panties and pocketed then without hesitation. "Okay, then."

"Hey, give them back..." You whined helplessly but Sevika didn't let you whine too long, silencing you with a kiss. "You're a real talker during sex, aren't you? I'll use 'em to gag your pretty mouth when I actually get to fuck you, yeah?" Sevika smirked knowing you were getting wetter with the second, and your short dress wasn't helping considering she took away your panties.

"I hate you."

Sevika cashed out, and led you out of the bar. All the while you were left struggling, trying to pull at the hem of your short dress to cover more. You could feel the slick wetness against your inner thighs.

All you wished now was to be spread on Sevika's bed and eaten out like there's no tomorrow. Fingered till you squirt all over her and the sheets. Dicked down till you can't breathe, incoherent mess of sentences leaving your drooling lips. Oh, the fantasies.

[cha-melodius]

Still working away at the polo/rodeo AU, which of course is going to be longer than I originally hoped. (This was more delusion than anything else, tbh. I knew it was a 20k idea all along). Here's a juicy bit.

Henry has become used to coming back to his phone after a match to find numerous unread texts waiting for him, but one day he returns to find nearly fifty in his messages app. He smiles fondly, assuming Alex has gone off on another rant, but when he scrolls back to the first one, he finds: managed to find a stream of your game i’d live tweet this but my followers would think i’ve gone nuts so instead i’m sending them directly to you enjoy What follows is a series of play-by-play reaction messages that are, admittedly, a little difficult to follow at times. Partly because Alex doesn’t really know the rules of polo, and partly because matches are always kind of a blur after the fact. Henry does recall what prompted wtf he just ran into you????—the bump from Donaldson to try to ride Henry off the ball—and of course the goals Henry scored, which resulted in a lot of exclamation points and celebratory gifs on Alex’s part. In between his commentary on the match, though, Alex sends increasingly thirsty messages like your ass in those breeches is a crime and if this cameraperson zooms in on your fucking arms one more time i’m gonna lose it and one that’s just a blurry photo of Alex’s computer screen that appears to show Henry scrubbing a hand through his disgusting, sweaty hair at halftime and is accompanied by the caption how do they just show this obscenity on tv over there, which make Henry’s poor gay heart flutter entirely too enthusiastically in his chest. He only reads about half of them before Darcy, his still-tacked horse, bumps into him impatiently and he’s forced to set the rest aside until his post-match routine has been completed. It takes him longer than it should because he’s so distracted thinking about Alex’s comments that he ends up staring into space until Darcy or Emma remind him of what he should be doing. It’s starting to seem more and more likely that Alex does want him.

Thanks for the tags today @pippinoftheshire, @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, @suseagull5914, and @justabigoldnerd!

Sending out an open tag for whoever wants to share, but also tagging: @cricketnationrise @alasse9 @caterpills @too-young-to-fall-in-love @faketrex @anincompletelist @porcelainmortal @sparklepocalypse @eusuntgratie @ninzied @firenati0n @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @sherryvalli @liminalmemories21 @kiwiana-writes @iboatedhere @thesleepyskipper @noahreids @tintagel-or-cockleshells @leaves-of-laurelin @14carrotghoul @orchidscript @clottedcreamfudge @three-drink-amy @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @mirilyawrites @wolfpup026 @luainthewild @onthewaytosomewhere @dumbpeachjuice

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Chapter 6 + His POV Story

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The man standing in the corner of an alley, surrounded by corpses and illuminated by the moon, should have been the Victor I knew. Instead, I was staring at a stranger, at a god of death.

Kate: W-why…?

My voice shook.

(Why is he here?) (Are all those people dead?) (Why isn’t he upset?)

…Did he kill them?

Without conscious thought, I took a step back. The sound of my shoe hitting the ground echoed loudly through the silent alleyway. My hands twisted in the straps of my purse.  I could barely hear anything over my thundering pulse. Every nerve of my body sung with a prey response. I knew Victor. I wanted to see him. But… but… My brain, still unable to fully comprehend what I was seeing, was telling me I was in danger. I couldn’t help myself. I was terrified.

Victor: …Kate.

His voice calling for me only made me more afraid.

Kate: Sorry. Sorry, I-

(Why did I say that?) (What am I apologizing for?)

Sorry for seeing this? Sorry for being afraid? For letting you know I was there? My vision wavered. I felt the chilly night wind close around my entire body as I stood there, unable to accept what I was seeing.

Victor: Kate-

His hand, as warm as it always was, reached out and brushed against my fingers. But I reflexively took another step back and pushed his hand aside. His expression shifted. There was something like sorrow in his gaze.

Kate: I’m sorry.

I couldn’t reach out for him. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. So I looked away from his face and ducked my head. And then I turned, and ran.

(What was that? What was that!?)

As I ran towards where I was supposed to meet up with William, my vision grew blurry with tears and I bit my lip. The only conclusion I could come to was that Victor killed them all, though I didn’t know for sure. But what I did know was this:

(...I pushed Victor away.)

Full of fear, I pushed his hand away. Unable to face him, I fled. I was pathetic. My heart was so full of guilt that I thought it was going to burst. It hurt so, so much. As I approached the main road, I slowed down. I didn’t hear any footsteps behind me, didn’t feel the presence of anyone coming after me. But I still looked back, hoping that everything was a lie. That I was just mistaken, and that nothing had happened. …I saw nothing except moonlight in an empty alley. The quiet of the night enveloped me, and I let out a small breath. A faint warmth still lingered on my fingertips.

Kate: …I didn’t know anything after all.

The cold wind dispersed into the dark night.

-----

William: Rare for you to drink alone at this hour.

Sitting at the bar with a glass of wine in hand, Victor briefly glanced over towards William.

William: Since you’ve chosen to sit here in the common room, were you hoping to meet anyone in particular?

Without missing a beat, William slid into the seat next to Victor, who wordlessly handed him a glass and began to pour him some wine. He watched as the wine, the same color as his eyes, flowed. And then he looked beyond the glass to stare curiously at Victor’s profile.

William: I’ve never seen that look on your face before.

Victor: What look?

William: A look that says, “I’ve gone and done it now.” William: This is a bottle of that special vintage that you normally keep hidden away, isn’t it?

Looking away from Victor, William began to enjoy his glass of wine while making conversation.

William: I went on a mission with our little robin today, but something appears to have happened during the time we were split up. William: She had quite the terrible look on her face when I saw her again. It matches the one you’re wearing now, in fact.

The slight twitch of Victor’s fingers on the table didn’t escape William’s notice.

William: It looks like you know something about it.

Victor: …

Victor continued to say nothing, instead draining his glass. He stared into the empty glass, seeing the world refracted through it. The light of the common room reflected beautifully off the surface of the glass, and yet it was so delicate it seemed as though it could shatter with a single touch.

William: Everyone’s noticed by now that you only send Kate on missions that won’t involve any killing.

Victor’s dark hair slid down his shoulders, hiding his face from view.

William: Ever since that first day when she joined us, she’s never seen another person die. William: That’s all because you’ve made sure to pick which missions she joins very carefully.

Everyone in Crown had already noticed.

Victor had organized everything so that the missions that Kate would join wouldn’t require death.

William: Of course, there are no guarantees in life. There have been times when we’ve had to pay evil unto evil in that way even when Kate was with us. William: Our clever little cat has always managed to kill our targets in a way that Kate wouldn’t notice. William: He isn’t the only one. Everyone else is also trying to make sure she can return to her old life without being hurt. She is just a normal person, after all. William: But they only acted after realizing what you wanted. William: Whether it’s intelligence gathering, retrieval, or an extermination, she would never realize the death that happened behind the scenes. William: This was by no one else’s design but yours, Victor.

Victor tapped his finger against the glass. In the silence, only a faint sound rang out. Paying it no mind, William continued to speak.

William: If you want to coddle her for these last few weeks before she returns to her old life, I have no problem with that. William: However.

William closed his eyes, recalling how Kate looked a few hours ago. When they had reunited, she had been pale, and fearful. But more than afraid, she looked guilty. As if she was blaming herself for seeing something, and then rejecting it.

William: She isn’t weak.

Victor shifted slightly.

William: If you want to be overprotective, then by all means, go ahead. But she isn’t someone who would be ruined by what you’re afraid of.

Finishing his glass, William stood up.

William: It’s why I brought her here, that night. William: And that’s why you yourself accepted her. William: You haven’t forgotten what I told you, have you?

Having made his way to the door, William grabbed the handle and looked back just one last time.

William: Continue to act like nothing’s different all you like, she’ll eventually arrive at the truth.

He waved to Victor as he departed the common room. Now alone, Victor let out a deep sigh. Today, the secret hidden behind his sorrowful gaze, Was beginning to break into pieces.

-----

Last night was the second sleepless night I had since I joined Crown.

(I couldn’t sleep at all…)

After my first night, I didn’t think I’d have another night where I spent all my time counting the number of stains on the ceiling.

(Back then, I was so nervous about what would happen to me that I couldn’t sleep. But this time…)

(Was that Victor’s ability?)

Every time I recalled the sight of those people with their hands around their own necks and blissful expressions, I couldn’t help but feel a chill, and begin to shiver. But the main reason my heart felt so heavy was…

(I pushed Victor away.)

The cold of night had sapped the warmth away from where his hand had touched mine. But that didn’t change the fact that I slapped his hand away.

(What was he going to say back then?)

I wasn’t brave enough to ask him what he wanted to say then, when he was reaching out to me.

(I can’t keep going like this.)

I slipped out of bed and began dressing for the day, my thoughts now the exact opposite of yesterday’s.

(I don’t know how I should act today…)

Hesitant to see Victor again, I stood there.

Kate: I guess I should go outside.

With heavy feet, I left my bedroom.

…

Roger: Nice timing, little lady. Thanks.

I had bumped into Roger as I was walking down the hallway and whisked away. He had needed help with carrying some things, so instead of Victor’s office, I now found myself in the castle’s basement.

Roger: I’ve been wanting to read these foreign medical texts forever, so when they finally got translated I ended up ordering all of them at once.

The boxes filled with weighty medical texts stacked on top of his desk were what he’d asked for my help with.

Kate: There’s so many of them…

Roger: An allowance is meant to be spent, isn’t it?

There were texts from everywhere, from Germany and other nearby countries all the way to the east. As I stared at the unfamiliar books, Roger suddenly spoke up as if he had just remembered something.

Roger: Aren’t you going to help Victor with his work today?

Kate: Um…

As I hesitated, unsure of how to respond, Roger smirked.

Roger: What, did you two end up doing it and now you can’t face him again?

That’s not what happened…  

W-we didn’t!! (+4/+4)

I guess…

Kate: W-we didn’t!! That’s not what happened at all!!

Roger: I was kidding, you don’t need to get that worked up. Roger: But there is a reason that things are awkward now, isn’t there?

Kate: …Maybe I’m the only one feeling awkward about it…

Roger: Did you finally have enough of Mr. Overprotective getting in your business?

Kate: Huh?

I looked up and met Roger’s gaze. For some reason, he looked confused himself.

Roger: Was that not it?

Kate: What do you mean by that?

Roger: Ah crap. I shouldn’t have said anything.

He leaned against a shelf and scratched the back of his head.

Roger: But, eh, it’s fine. I was wondering about it too, anyway.

He returned to the topic, speaking as if he were flaunting a rule.

Roger: Do you remember all the missions you’ve been on?

Kate: Yes. Researching that orphanage, the illegal gambling ring, retrieving the drugged candy…

As I listed out the missions, Roger pointed at me.

Roger: And how many times have you seen someone die while on a mission?

The question took me by surprise. As if my expression were an answer in itself, Roger pressed on.

Roger: Majority of the missions you joined were all information gathering. Roger: You haven’t had many chances to witness any killing. Maybe none at all.

Roger wasn’t wrong. I knew that Crown’s purpose was to pay evil unto evil.

(After all, I saw them in action that first night.)

But ever since I became Fairytale Keeper, Even though I had witnessed scenes of injustice, I never saw anything similar to what happened that night. Why was that? Roger’s eyes gleamed as he answered my silent question.

Roger: It’s because Victor made sure of it.

Kate: Why would he…

Even as the question slipped past my lips, I felt as though I knew the answer.

Roger: He probably wants to make sure you can return to your old life as easily as possible, without witnessing any death.

(Because Victor is kind.)

Without my knowledge, I was kept in a cage as soft as the expression in his eyes whenever he looked at me.

Roger: The others probably figured it out too. They’re all trying to keep you away from it too. Roger: But I’m not sure if that’s the right thing to do.

I felt my eyes burn. My lips trembled as I tried to form words.

Roger: Because you didn’t have a say in it.

At Roger’s words, I gave a small nod and sniffled. Although knowing that he was trying to keep me safe did make me happy, I couldn’t help but feel terribly lonely too.

(It feels like he doesn’t understand my resolve.)

As Fairytale Keeper, I promised myself that no matter what darkness I faced, I wouldn’t abandon my role. I was here because of that resolve. Or at least, it should have been that way.

Kate: I know that Victor was being kind. Kate: But maybe I never told him what I wanted. Kate: And I’m ashamed I never realized that I was being treated like a guest all this time.

Even if it was only for a month, I wanted to be accepted fully by everyone in Crown. But it was as if Victor’s kindness and protection had drawn a line between them and me. I’d had so much to think about ever since last night that everything was starting to come together in a swirl of irritation.

(The things I saw, how I pushed Victor away, how I didn’t realize that I was being herded away from what I wanted to face.) (I’m so frustrated it’s actually making me angry.)

Roger noticed that I was biting my lip and he laughed.

Roger: If you have something to say, go tell the man himself. Roger: Those lips aren’t made for biting. Roger: They’re there so you can use them to speak your mind.

He put his hand on my head and ruffled my hair.

Kate: Hey!

Roger: If he still doesn’t get it, you can come back here.

His hand stopped moving. I looked up. His eyes were bright behind his glasses.

Roger: I can show you a good enough time that you won’t care about Victor anymore.

Kate: Wha- don’t make jokes like that!

I hurriedly backed away while Roger smiled.

Roger: I’m not a joking kind of guy. Roger: Your face is exactly my type, you know.

Kate: I’m leaving!

Fearing that I’d get swept away by Roger’s behavior if I stayed any longer, I made my way to the stairs.

Kate: And thank you!

By the time I thanked him, Roger had already cracked open one of his books.

Roger: If you have anything else to get off your chest, you can drop by any time.

Kate: Absolutely not!

His POV Story: What I Didn’t Want You to Know

The sound of soft footsteps just outside my door heralded Kate’s arrival. I never tired of watching her enter after knocking politely on the door. She would always greet me good morning, receive her work for the day, and sit down in her usual chair at the table. Sneaking glances at her serious face in profile as she got absorbed into her work never failed to soothe. She didn’t notice my staring today either.

(She’s so adorable when she’s concentrating.)

I could tell when she finished her work by watching her: the way the corners of her mouth lifted in a relaxed smile, how she stretched. That was the sign for me to stop as well, and begin preparing for tea time. This was a new habit that I’d adopted ever since Kate began working here with me, A moment of respite in my life which was otherwise dominated by work. Due to Kate’s presence here, The cold atmosphere of my office had been replaced with warmth.

Victor: Take it as a personal request from me. Victor: Pretty please?

Our conversation began with the topic of Kate working too much, then ended with my suggestion of her taking the day off, which she had refused. So I deliberately acted cute to get her to change her mind. Since I started spending more time with her, I realized that Kate’s Achilles’ heel was me putting on this kind of act.

(Strange, when you’re so much cuter than I am.)

I suppose that normally, she saw me as someone composed and mature. So the occasional facade of childishness was like a bullet to her heart. Right now she looked uncertain, a faint blush to her cheeks as she looked away from me.

(I can’t help but worry…)

I hoped that no one aside from me would try fooling Kate like this. I waited for her reply.

(I’m already certain of what her answer will be, though.)

Kate: Fine, I will.

I beamed at her as she nodded reluctantly.

Victor: Excellent! Have a good rest.

Waving goodbye to her, that was the end of that. But as soon as I saw her off and closed the door, the atmosphere of the room shifted instantly.

Victor: …Now.

I rearranged the documents I had in hand, pulled out a few more from a drawer, and then lit a match. A burning odor filled the room as I brought the match to the paper, watching it curl and burn away. Watching ashes fall onto my desk, a sudden chill filled my heart. This was a side of me that no one knew. Not Kate, and not Crown. William probably had suspicions, but he never asked. Printed on the paper were photos of a number of men.

Victor: I have to work hard too, for everyone’s sake.

All the things I did in secret to get funding for Crown’s activities… No one needed to know.

-----

The night was illuminated by cold moonlight. I turned the corner into an alleyway. A group of men were gathered there, making crude conversation.

(Kate and William are both on a mission at the theater nearby.) (I should work quickly so it won’t bother them.)

The men were underlings of a gang that was trying to bring a new drug into the country. Here they were, chatting away, unaware that I had personally destroyed their headquarters just minutes ago.

(I will create a free and peaceful country by passing impartial judgment on the evils that threaten its people.)

That was why I served as executioner. But…

(I will never let you witness this.)

I wanted her to know only a world of beauty. But she stumbled onto the scene of a grisly execution, and stepped foot into this dark world. She was earnest, hardworking, and filled with kindness. I knew that better than anyone.

(And that is why I must let her go.)

Never let her see anything upsetting. Never make her sad. Never let her lose her smile. The feelings I had for Kate were more akin to a desire to protect her.

(But–)

Hearing my approaching footsteps, the men looked up. With weapons in hand, they marched in my direction. But I didn’t hesitate as I said one phrase. In the blink of an eye, the men all reached up to strangle themselves, and fell to the ground, never to breathe again. That should have been the end of it.

Kate: Ah… ah-

I heard a familiar voice behind me and felt my body grow cold. I spun around. And there she was. All emotion left my face as I saw her grow pale.

(She should still be at the theater right now. Why…?)

Normally I should have been able to tell that she was there. But complacent in my belief that there was no way she would be out here, I let down my guard. Kate’s eyes were wide, as if she could not believe what she was seeing. I could see her body trembling, how she was left speechless at the sight of the corpses around me. She was afraid of me.

(...To be seen like this by the person whom I least wanted to show this to. The universe loves its cruel jokes.)

I had hoped that I would be able to spend another relaxing day with her tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that, until she left Crown. Those warm, peaceful days.

(Those days I spent with you were so wonderful that I nearly forgot.) (I am the reaper.)

The sight of those eyes, so filled with fear, tore open just the tiniest hole, In the heart I thought I had thrown away so long ago.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Unbalanced

“So if I have this right,” Henry said, “this love potion makes you—” he hesitated. He was unkeen to say 'fuck' so boldly. “It makes you want to fornicate? And makes you sick if you don’t?”

“Terribly sick, m’lord."

Henry and Hans accidentally drink a love potion. But the only way to save themselves from a horrible end is to rebalance their bodies, and the only way they can do that is with each other.

Medieval fuck-or-die by way of a love potion. Chapter 1/2, 7k words. Rated E, of course. Also available on AO3!

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

“Drink up, my friend!”

The jug clunked down onto the sticky tavern table top, quickly followed by Hans collapsing onto the bench opposite Henry. 

“Fine ale,” Hans said, pouring them both a generous serving, “courtesy of yours truly.”

“Why thank you,” Henry said, taking his mug and holding it aloft in a toast. “To yours truly, then.”

He drank deeply. They were on their second jug of the evening, relaxing after a long summer’s day. They’d spent the morning hunting - or at least, they had set out with the intention to hunt, but in truth the vast majority of their time had been spent spitting terrible jokes at each other, mocking one another’s bowmanship and getting into increasingly absurd competitions. 

Henry had bagged most hares, but Hans was the one who had managed to shoot three apples in a row from the branch of a tree. They’d called it a draw, in the end, and retired to the tavern to see off the night.

They were not the only ones enjoying the summer weather. The tavern was full, every seat taken. It had been luck - and Hans shamelessly throwing his weight around - that had bagged them a table to themselves. For once, Henry didn’t feel like arguing.

“How did you manage to find ale so quickly?” he asked. “It’s fucking heaving.”

Hans shrugged. “Need I remind you who I am?” he said. “Ungrateful wretch.”

As Henry put the mug down, he realised there was a man across the way glaring at them. Glaring at Hans, to be precise. 

“Why is that fellow across the way giving you such a sour look?”

“Full of questions today, aren’t we?” Hans said. “What fellow?”

“The one— over there, with the red-haired girl.”

“I have no idea who you could mean.”

“You haven’t even looked!”

“Are you here to drink or are you here to make eyes at some peasant?” Hans said with a sigh. “Honestly, Henry, I’m beginning to assume you don’t even want my company.”

Nothing could have been further from the truth. They were spending, more or less, all of their time together, and each moment of it felt like it would be wasted if it were spent any other way. Henry found himself drawn to Hans in a way he couldn’t explain; like a mountain stream trickling towards a roaring river.

Not that he intended to tell Hans that, of course: his ego was unwieldy enough as it was. Besides, Henry was quite sure Hans already knew, or at least suspected. He says come, and Henry obeys. 

He tried to put the man across the way out of his head. No doubt he was just someone Hans had pissed off: there were enough of those around that Henry had lost count. 

Entirely uninterested, Hans refilled their mugs. And then he paused, sniffing his drink.

“Does this taste… different, to you?”

Henry took another sip. 

“Tastes like ale,” he said, simply.

Hans was undeterred. “No, no,” he said. “It’s—” he frowned thoughtfully. “Tastes a little like mint.”

Knowing that Hans was unlikely to drop the topic, Henry took another drink. This time, he focused, smelling deeply, swilling it around across his tongue before swallowing. To his surprise, Hans was correct; there was a minty tang at the back of his throat.

“Probably put some in to hide the fact that it was going bad,” he said.

“Urgh, you’re probably right. Fucking swine.”

“Want me to get another jug?”

“Fuck that, I’m already sat down. Drink up!”

Henry did. He could certainly get over the minty aftertaste, and the innkeeper wouldn’t have been the first person to keep the stock longer than intended with a handful of whatever herb was freshest. He’d certainly drunk worse, after all, and even the foulest ale was improved by good company.

They had nearly finished off the jug and were bickering over who would be the one to get up and fetch the next, when a  crash from the opposite side of the yard broke them from their debate. Henry spun around in his seat to see the man who had been staring at them being hauled away by a pair of guards, the red-haired woman standing beside them and weeping.

Hans was on his feet in an instant, the picture of a Lord. As two of the guards manhandled the man away, he grabbed the third; Henry immediately recognised him as one of the marshals.

“What in God’s name is going on?” Hans demanded.

The marshal looked furious, and disgusted.

“Horrible, sinful business m’Lord,” he spat with a shake of his head. “Devilish stuff. That bastard’s been slipping some sort of— of potion into that lass’s drink.”

“A potion?” 

Hans was clearly intrigued at the gossip. Henry gave him a nudge where the marshal wouldn’t see, and he fixed the expression back into one of concern. The marshal stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Hans and Henry could hear.

“A love potion,” he scowled. “From what we’ve heard, it imbalances the body, the humours. Inflames them. Does in a few moments what the body itself would do in a few weeks, until— well, m’lords…” he looked briefly abashed, “you know what happens when the body is inflamed, without— without expulsion—” he shook his head once more. “The crux of it, m’lord, is that this nasty little tincture would cause great harm to one who took it, and even greater harm to one who took it and did not then seek a way to release the build-up afterwards. Might even kill them.”

Henry blinked. He was not sure if he had fully understood the marshal’s explanation.

“Sir, so if I have this right,” he said, also keeping his voice low. “This love potion makes you—” he hesitated. He was unkeen to say fuck so boldly. “It makes you want to fornicate? And makes you sick if you don’t?”

“Terribly sick, m’lord, in the body and the brain.”

“God’s teeth…” Henry muttered.

“Indeed. Terrible, terrible crime.”

“And what will you be doing with the perpetrator?” Hans frowned.

“We’ll lock him away for the night,” the marshal said. “Tomorrow we’ll put him before Sir Hanush, and he’ll decide the best punishment for his crimes. And we must seek out the wretch who sold him the potion, too.” He sighed. “Excuse me, m’lords. I must see this done. God go with you.”

“And you,” Henry muttered after him as he followed his men out into the street.

“God’s bollocks,” Hans said once he’d left and he’d taken his seat once more. “What a thing. Awful behaviour, using such potions like that.”

“You’ve used love potions before,” Henry said, eyebrows raised. “Remember the butcher’s daughter?”

“Well, yes,” Hans said, “but I’ve never used one on anyone else, just myself. That was just a little helping hand. There’s no sin in making oneself better. But to force such things upon someone else?” he gripped his mug harder. “I hope that bastard gets what is coming to him. That poor girl.”

“I’m not even convinced the one you used worked,” Henry said. “What was it, the musk of exceptional allure?”

“Infinite allure,” Hans corrected him. “And what do you mean it didn’t work? I bedded her, didn’t I?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Only after fucking up all that poetry.”

“Well that proves it!” Hans thumped his hand on the table. “If I can woo a woman after fucking up poetry, then it must have been the potion making me - as I said - infinitely alluring.” He took a long drink. “And it was you who fucked up that poetry, if I remember rightly.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, sir.”

“None of that, you cheeky bastard.”

“It does make you wonder how many of these sorts of things are out there, doesn’t it?”

“What, love potions? There’s hundreds, from what I’ve heard. Spells, too.”

“Spells?”

Hans grinned, clearly excited to launch into a story.

“There’s this one— you know, the priests swear it's true, but you never can tell with priests if they’re telling the truth or have just gone too long without seeing a tit.”

“Right?”

“So, so—” Hans grinned, emboldened by the ale and the salacious story. “A woman, she strips herself naked, and covers herself in honey.”

“In—?”

“Shut up. She covers herself in honey, and then rolls about in wheat, and then she takes all of the bits of wheat that stick to her and grind them up and make them into bread. And then she feeds that bread to her husband. And it makes him desperately keen to fuck her.” Hans broke his story, his mug against his lips. “Or… or it kills him. I can’t remember.”

Henry snorted. “That’s a bit of a crucial difference.”

Hans flapped a hand at him. “It all feels like too much work for me,” he said. “Imagine that, getting yourself naked and rolling around in honey - and the cost of all that honey, too - all that mess, for what one could achieve with a tight-fitting bodice. Or a knife,” he added, thoughtfully.

Henry swallowed. The image of Hans covering his naked body in honey was one which he didn't think he would be rid of for a while. He tried to cover the burning feeling in his cheeks - and the twitching in his breeches - with a laugh and another drink.

Soon, the jug really was empty. Henry waved over the innkeeper, who - after spotting Hans at the table - hurried over.

“We saw that business with the guards,” Hans said, as he lingered by their table after bringing them fresh ale. “Awful stuff.”

The innkeeper shuddered. “It really is, sir. I feel awful for not realising what he was up to…”

“Do you know how he did it?” Hans asked.

“Slipped it into the jug,” he said morosely. “Poured it in before taking it to their bench.”

“Good God.”

“Indeed,” the innkeeper agreed, crossing himself. “They found two empty vials on him, too; slipped right out of his bag when they arrested him. The Lord Above only knows what he did with the other one. We can only pray that he had not already used it on someone else.”

He hurried away, back to his business.

“What a mess,” Henry said, reaching for the full jug. “That poor woman.”

Hans was not paying attention. He was staring into his empty mug, frowning.

“Hans?”

No response.

“What is it? Want me to top you—”

“Shut up.”

Henry fell silent. This was not Hans’s typical bravado. Not his usual, blunted bickering.

“What’s wrong?”

“...the ale.”

“What about the ale? Not good enough for the noble Lord Capon?”

Finally, finally Hans looked up. He looked downright panicked.

“I took that jug from that man. The one with the potion. That’s how I got it so quickly. He had it in his hands, and I just took it from him.”

“And? Worried that stealing’s a sin?”

“I am worried,” Hans said, voice pitched, “that he had two empty vials on him, Henry. One for that woman, and one for—” his eyes fell again to his empty mug.

It couldn’t be. It had just been ale. 

“Don’t be foolish. He probably just used the other one on someone else.”

“And got away with it?”

“Well, maybe—”

“Don’t be an idiot, Henry. You said he was glaring at me! That must be why! And you agreed that the ale tasted strange!”

Henry had agreed. It had tasted of mint. 

“Is mint… common in love potions?” he hazarded.

“How the Devil should I know!” Hans said, now very clearly panicking. “How do you feel? Do you feel strange? Different? Do you feel—” even in the low light of the yard, Henry could see his cheeks darken. He didn’t need to finish that sentence.

Henry leaned back on the bench. He felt… warm. He had assumed it was just the lingering heat of the day and the crush of people, but now he was not so sure. His chest and cheeks were flushed. And there had been that moment earlier, when Hans had been drunkenly talking about honey and naked bodies and—

Shit.

He got to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said. “I mean: we should go… somewhere else. Where it’s quieter. It might… help?”

He did not think it would help, in truth, but the crush of other drinkers was growing too much, the sound of their chatter pressing down on him from all sides. Hans followed his lead, and they stumbled out into the street. It was less pressing here, but it did very little to calm Henry’s inflamed nerves. The brush of the gentle breeze over his red-hot skin felt more like a kiss than a salve.

Wordlessly, they hurried away from the busy tavern towards the edge of town before falling gracelessly onto the grass behind a low wall. The grass was damp beneath Henry’s arse, his breeches slowly growing sodden as he sat trying to catch his breath.

He wanted to deny it. He wanted to believe that Hans was being paranoid. They had no proof that they’d drunk the potion.

No proof, that was, aside from the fact that Hans had stolen the jug from a man known to use such tinctures. The fact that Henry’s very skin felt like it were aflame, and that his heart was pounding erratically in his chest. The fact that his cock was twitching in his breeches and - try as he might, even close to possible death - he still couldn’t shake the image of Hans’s honey-covered bare fucking arse.

“What the fuck do we do?” Hans wailed.

“How should I know?” Henry said, leaning back against the wall in the hopes that the cold stone would ease his burning blood. “I’m not a herbalist or a— a witch. We could find the physician?”

“No,” Hans said, far too quickly. “No, then it’ll get out. Everyone will know, and Sir Hanush—” he paused. “I do not want anybody to know about this.”

“We could head to the baths? Find a couple of girls and—”

“What part of not wanting anybody to know about this did you not understand?”

“But a couple of bath wenches won’t need to know anything.”

“And what if it goes wrong? What if something happens? What if this— this thing makes us start babbling and losing our minds? Or what if it doesn’t work at all? What if it—”  his eyes went wide. There was a fine sheen of sweat over his face. “What if it kills us?”

“It won’t kill us.” Henry tried to force himself to sound sure. 

Hans didn’t reply. He stared down at the ground, his leg bouncing as if possessed. Henry thought he knew how Hans felt: it was like there was something burning under his skin, writhing in his belly, sinking low tendrils down.

“We have to do something,” Henry said at last. “What was it the marshal said? That you had to get release. So… easy, right? We return to our rooms and… like he said. Find release.”

Hans gave a long sigh, as if he was talking to an idiot. “You have to get release with another person,” he said. “That’s the point. Why else would you make a love potion for it? There’s no point slipping one into someone’s drink so they go home and frig themselves silly without you there, is there?”

He had a point. Henry understood the basics of the body, the balancing of the humours - and the ills that could befall one when they became unbalanced. But he knew little about the rest of it, the magic and trickery which could twist the mind into seeking out that balance with another person. His slender knowledge of the Satanic arts began and ended with his dalliance with the Uzhitz witches: an experience that he was keen not to repeat. No doubt that same sort of dark magic was involved here, too: some shady practitioner boiling potions over the bones of babies or… something.

“Shit.” He didn’t know what else to say.

Beside him, Hans had gone silent. The only sound was his breathing: deep and laboured and full of heat. Henry was struck with the urge to shuffle closer, to press their shoulders together. To take his hand. To feel his skin.

Sweat pooled in the small of his back.

“Hans—”

“Henry—”

He turned. Hans looked desperate, expression raw. The words suddenly stuck in Henry’s throat. It was Hans who spoke first, his tongue darting to wet his lips, his throat constricting as he swallowed.

“We could…”

Hans’s breath was so hot that Henry could almost see it scorched into the air, words written in smoke between them. Those two words were enough: the rest unspoken but understood.

“Should we go back to your room?” Henry was glad not to say anything more illicit; he wasn’t sure if he could cope with hearing those words from his own mouth any more than he could from Hans’s.

Hans looked a little shocked - eyes widening for a moment - as if he hadn’t expected Henry to agree, or to even understand what he had been implying.

“No,” he said, at last. “Too many guards, too many people. No doubt someone will want to chat if they see us. And what if they hear? What if they find out?”

“Then where?” 

“There’s this old woodcutter’s hut,” Hans said, twisting his hands together, catching glances at Henry from the corner of his eye. “Other side of town. Abandoned. Sometimes I take—” his words were fractured by a harsh laugh. “Sometimes I take girls there. Come on.”

He was on his feet without another word, hauling Henry up beside him. His touch was as hot as forge-warmed iron; Henry half-expected their palms to stick together, melded like metal, as Hans dragged him to his feet. They didn’t. Hans let go, leaving Henry’s grip empty.

Henry tried not to feel jealous as he followed Hans over a low wall and towards the woods. Hans took pretty girls with grabbable arses and bouncing tits to the place he was now leading Henry. Girls he liked, girls he wanted to fuck. It was the first time Henry had allowed himself to think it so boldly - that he and Hans were going to fuck, right here, right now - but the thought came wrapped in bitterness. This wasn’t like those lusty tumbles. This was an emergency, life or death. Hans would not be doing this if he had a choice.

The hut was hidden away at the edge of the wood, far from the prying eyes of the town. In the darkness within, Henry could just about make out a few pieces of furniture: a chair, a chest, a low bed. It must have belonged to the woodcutters once upon a time. He tried not to think about who Hans had brought there before.

Hans closed and locked the door. He turned.

“Henry…”

Henry didn’t know what to do. Now he was here, faced with the inevitability of what was about to happen, he felt suddenly unsure. 

He’d wanted this for an age. But not like this.

But he didn’t have the time for such catastrophizing. He didn’t have the luxury of melancholy when the potion was fizzing in his blood, and in Hans’s blood too. Better to give into it, to let it consume him as it was so desperately trying to. He was far too warm, a furnace roaring low in his core, sending great licks of flame up the hollow chimney of his chest.

He tugged at the collar of his tunic, desperate for air. Hans looked equally troubled, his face coated in sweat. 

“Kurva,” Hans spat. “I’m too fucking hot.” He started to fiddle with the buttons of his gambeson, hands slipping over the fine fabric. “Shit—”

Henry stepped in. Something inherent and deep-rooted in his head took over, now tinged with the sweet flash of the potion. The urge to help. Even though his own hands were trembling too, he made faster work of the buttons than Hans had, but stepped back again when he was finished, the gambeson hanging open to reveal the undershirt beneath.

Hans muttered a brief word of thanks, cheeks scarlet, then slipped the gambeson off. It fell to the floor at his feet. Henry followed suit, tugging off his own tunic with less hesitation, the ties snapping beneath his eager hands. Hans moved closer, reaching out - a tentative, nervous touch.

His hand against Henry’s chest, even with Henry’s linen shirt between their skin, felt altogether like too much, but not enough. The uncertainty dissolved. He tugged Hans closer, grabbing him, sliding his hands beneath his undershirt. Hans moved with equal fervour, ripping at his clothes - undershirt, hose, braies - in a haze much like being drunk, until they were both bare, clinging onto each other in the centre of the tiny room.

Still it felt like it wasn’t enough. Henry’s skin was blazing, his heart thundering, his now-freed cock desperate and hard against Hans’s leg. He could feel Hans’s prick, too, equally keen. He moved his hands up and down Hans’s back, over his arms.

It wasn’t enough.

Hans made an impatient, stuttering noise and pushed him down onto the bed. It shuddered beneath them as they crashed onto it, the wood splintering. They twisted around, finding room, legs and arms tangling. Henry rolled them over, pinning Hans beneath him, a leg pressed between his thighs.

Hans looked so open beneath him, so vulnerable. He looked sad, too: a little lost, like there was something locked away behind those eyes. His skin shimmered with sweat, lashes thick with it. He opened his mouth as if to speak, his teeth grazing his lower lip, and God above, Henry yearned for nothing more than to catch those lips under his own, to feel Hans’s breath against his mouth, to inhale him.

But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn't. A kiss was too precious, too open. His lips could betray him without a single word passing between them. They were there for a purpose beyond desire, and Henry couldn’t allow his muddled feelings for Lord Capon to put either of them at risk.

Hans made a little noise, and Henry wrenched his gaze from his lips to his eyes. That look was still there, that sadness that Henry couldn’t place. 

“Hans—”

“You should—” for a moment, Hans sounded like Sir Hans Capon, young Lord of Perkstein. And then it was gone, the commanding tone lost as soon as it came. “Fuck it, Henry, kiss me?”

Henry didn’t even think. Hans didn’t need to order him about like a lord for him to obey that direction. He cupped Hans’s jaw - something that Hans hadn’t expected, judging by the way his breath stuttered - and pressed their lips together.

It shouldn’t have felt so good. It shouldn’t have felt like light, like holy light pouring into Henry’s body through Hans’s mouth. He didn’t know how he was supposed to kiss anyone else again after this. No one could compare. He’d ruined himself through the simple act of pressing his lips against Hans’s, lost forever.

A low noise purred from Hans’s throat as Henry pushed him down. He bucked his hips upwards, pressing his erect cock into Henry’s thigh. Henry ground down against him, opening his lips, teasing Hans’s mouth open with his own. Hans hissed beneath him, their breath mingling, then grabbed Henry tighter and slid his tongue into his mouth.

Fuck. Henry mirrored the movement, desperate for more. Hans’s lips were soft and wet, and every time he moved Hans made a warm little hum, the sound shooting through Henry like an arrow.

He drifted away from Hans’s lips and across his jaw, into the sensitive hollow of his neck. He left a kiss there, but once again it was not enough. He opened his lips, dragging his teeth against Hans’s skin.

He drank Hans in, trying to commit him to memory; his warmth, the sound of his breath, the hot salt-sweat taste of his skin beneath Henry’s tongue. Perhaps it was wrong to do so, perhaps he was taking something from his lord, but reason had abandoned him. All that was left was Hans, and the certain knowledge that this would never happen again.

The potion - and his own desire - was reaching a messy, painful peak. Henry’s very skin ached with need, his cock throbbing where it was pinned against Hans’s thigh. This had to be the potion wringing him out, writhing through his blood. He had never known lust like this before. Beneath him, Hans too seemed to be struggling; wriggling open-mouthed and slick-skinned.

Enough. Henry let his desire guide him, the rest of his mind shut off. He didn’t need thought, nor logic and reason: just this. He edged down Hans’s body, lips apart, taking in the intoxicating taste of him until Hans’s cock nudged against his chin. Would this work? Would this be enough? He didn’t know, but every fibre of his being was urging it, and he could hardly resist now he was so close.

“Hans?” he had to ask, although each second wasted was a second of ruin. “Can— Do you—”

“Fuck, Henry,” Hans hissed, “Do it.”

Henry did as he bid. He had never sucked a cock before, and in truth had only had the act performed upon himself a scant handful of times, but as he wrapped his lips around the shaft of Hans’s prick, instinct took over. As his open mouth grazed the sensitive skin, Hans bucked beneath him, swearing colourfully into the hot air. Emboldened, Henry moved with more confidence, lathing his tongue up his hot, hard length then taking the tip into his mouth, squeezing with hips lips, rolling his tongue over the already slick head. Hans swore again - a string of swears, folded into Henry’s name - jerking up with such force that Henry had to grip onto his hips to hold him down lest he choke him.

He moved faster, surer, gripping the base of Hans’s cock in one hand whilst working him with his mouth. Hans’s swearing petered out into little stuttering gasps, needy little moans, building breaths. He was close, Henry could tell - and as inexpert as he was he released him from the hot wetness of his mouth to focus on the attentions of his hands, tools which he was far more certain of.

Hans made a noise - was that a groan, or Henry’s name? He made it again, and this time Henry knew there was nothing else it could have been.

“Henry—”

A single word, full of heat, full of want. Henry didn’t think, just heaved himself back up, meeting Hans’s lips, pouring himself into the kiss as he stroked Hans’s cock. Hans gasped into his mouth and then - at last - spent across his stomach in desperate, breathless bursts.

Henry barely had time to think before Hans was scrabbling at him, rolling him over, running his hands down his body.

“Hans, wait—”

“No time,” Hans muttered, lips pressed deliciously close to Henry’s skin. “Now you, Hal, here—”

Still sticky with sweat and spend, Hans twisted them around on the tiny bed, urgently reaching between them. His fingertips skimmed over Henry’s stomach, brushed across the hair trailing from below his navel to his cock. Even that faltering touch was too much, making Henry’s nerves sing and shudder. Hans’s body seemed to be thrumming with energy, his fondling erratic. No wonder: he had just spent himself, and only God knew what the love potion was doing within him.

He hissed through his teeth when Hans finally wrapped his lithe fingers around him, the air sucked from his lungs. He arched back, and Hans placed a warm kiss to his neck, sucking at his skin.

“Fuck, Henry—” his voice was strained. “You’re so— I—”

Henry barely heard whatever else Hans was saying. He couldn’t hear him over the rushing of his heartbeat in his ears or his own, gasping breaths as Hans worked him, jerking his cock, smothering him in kisses. Henry grabbed him back, pawing at his back, digging his nails into Hans’s soft flesh.

Fuck. All there was, was Hans. Hans’s body, his lips, his mouth. His tongue. His hand wrapped around Henry’s prick, his fingers slipping messily up and down his shaft. Henry could feel his pleasure peaking, the hot rush building. He took another, huge gasp, then another, ghosting his breath over Hans’s mouth.

He came in waves, unstoppable and inevitable as the tides, as the moon, as the act of breathing. White spots burst across his vision, even with his eyes tight shut. He breathed through it, letting it wrack through him until he was spent.

He roused slowly, dragging his eyes open. Hans was staring at him, eyes wide, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest. Henry’s heart was still pounding, his lungs still squeezing, but with the relief of release he no longer felt as harried and desperate as he had before. Had it worked? Had they shaken off the effect of the potion? Had it been enough?

“Hans—” the word was shaky and uncertain. He took another breath, trying to calm his frantic heart. “Are you— do you feel alright?”

Hans too looked exhausted, eyes blinking sluggishly. He nodded, lips twitching.

Henry sighed, rolling onto his back as best he could in the tiny bed, pulling out of Hans’s grip. He tilted his head so he could still peer at him. He wanted to rest, to bask in this feeling, but they could not: this was not a lovers tryst, he forced himself to remember. This had been panic. They had done what they needed to do.

“Should we go back?” 

Hans swallowed. 

“Frankly…” Hans shuffled on the ruined sheets, “Frankly, I’m fucking exhausted. I don’t particularly wish to go anywhere.”

Henry bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. “Aye,” he said. “Me too.”

He took a deep breath, feeling more like himself at last. The tiny room was hot, the air near-dripping with the smell of sweat and sex. 

“Henry—”

Hans looked nervous. “What is it?” Henry said, turning back around to better see him.

“What if it wasn’t enough?”

It felt like it had been enough. But, Henry supposed, he had never taken a love potion before. He had no idea how this worked.

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “Do you still feel it?”

Hans watched him with an unreadable expression. His eyes darted back and forth, catching Henry’s face, his lips, his body. Henry could almost feel every place his gaze landed.

“I think so,” he said, after a long moment. “I feel—” his gaze drifted again. He shut his eyes. “I feel something.”

Henry recognised the fear in him, the anxiety of losing himself, in more ways than one. They’d battled side by side enough times: this was no different, not at its core. The fear of ruination, of losing one’s life. He reached out, but as he placed his hand on Hans’s bare shoulder, he jumped, twisting it away.

“Sorry—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

They spoke over one another, both fumbling into silence. It was Hans who broke it, as always.

“You took me by surprise. Sorry.”

Henry tucked his hand back between them, keeping a careful distance between their bodies. The few inches - barely even that - felt like a sudden cavern, after what they had just done. But perhaps that was right. That was how it was supposed to be, after all.

“So… should we stay here?” Henry asked, carefully. “If you’re worried…?”

“Probably for the best. Just in case.”

Henry nodded. Something new and strange was tingling between them. Perhaps, in the mornings, things would be easier. 

“Are there any fucking blankets in here?”

Hans nodded, although there was still a sort of uncertainty in his face. He rose from the bed, leaving Henry feeling suddenly exposed and alone, and began to rifle through the chest on the other side of the tiny room. Henry tugged his braies back on, ripping off a scrap from the bottom of his undershirt to clean himself up. When Hans returned, a thick blanket in his arms, Henry passed it to him, too. 

He stared at it for a moment before swiftly seeing off the spend drying across his stomach.

He tossed the rag on the floor and the blanket at Henry before coming to sit beside him on the bed. It truly was a tiny cot - barely room for one grown man, let alone two - but somehow they managed, slotting beside each other. Any attempts to leave some space between their bodies were abandoned, the tiny space and growing chill in the air making it impossible.

Henry pressed against the damp wall of the cabin and felt Hans settle behind him. 

“Wake me if you… if you need me,” he muttered. From beyond his shoulder, Hans made a soft sound of assent.

It was some time later, Henry right on the edge of sleep, when he felt Hans wrap his arm around his middle and bury his head between Henry’s shoulder blades.

***

They were woken early, the bright, dawn light charging in through the shutterless window of the hut. Henry groaned, for a moment forgetting where he was, too warm and comfortable and content to move. 

Then he remembered. The heavy weight around his waist was still there, Hans’s feet twisted between his own, their bodies pressed stickily together. He could feel Hans’s breaths coming against Henry’s skin in long, sleepy snores.

They had survived the night. The potion had run its course, and they were still alive. 

After a while, Hans made a gasping, snortling noise, then groaned as he, too, woke.

“My fucking head… Henry?”

“Still here, my Lord.”

“Don’t fucking—” he groaned again. Henry felt him press his forehead against Henry’s back. “Don’t call me that. Peasant.”

Henry rolled over with a laugh, dislodging a grumbling Hans. “It worked,” he said, simply.

Hans stared at him. He looked disheveled, bags under his eyes. 

“It did.” And then it seemed to dawn on him, like a great wave. “It did! Fuck, Henry, we’re— we’re alright!”

“We’re always alright,” Henry grinned.

They rose swiftly, quickly tidying the hut to make it appear unused and pulling yesterday’s clothes back on. Henry picked at his torn undershirt: he would have to find a new one. 

Looking as presentable as they ever would, they headed back through the woods and towards the town. This early, barely anyone else was awake, and those who were were too busy beginning their own days to pay them any mind. The morning was new, and the day was stretched out in front of them. Henry found himself walking with a renewed vigour in his step: he could have died. He had not. And Hans was at his side, as jovial and cocky as ever.

Nothing had changed between them. The quietest part of his mind wished it had - wished that there could have been a new shade to their relationship. But the rest was just pleased that Hans was still with him, still his friend, even after all that had passed between them.

As they made their way across the town square, Henry spotted a familiar figure walking towards them: the marshal. Hans shot Henry a look.

“Let’s find out what happened to our friend, shall we?”

Hans flagged the marshal down, jogging towards him.

“God greet you, my Lord,” the marshal said as he approached.

“And you, sir,” Hans said. “How fares your prisoner? Did you find the man who sold him the potions?”

The marshal gave a long, beleaguered sigh. “That we did,” he said, “but I wish it were so simple.”

“Oh?”

“Turns out the potion was a fake.”

The floor had fallen away from beneath Henry’s feet. He had to focus not to slip and fall. 

“What?” Hans’s voice was dry and cracked. “He was— it was a fake?”

“Aye,” the Marshal confirmed. “We suspected something was amiss when we were seeing to the young lady. Left her with some of the girls in the keep, and once we’d gotten her calmed down she was perfectly fine. No strange symptoms at all, just a little shaken.”

“She didn’t feel anything at all?” Henry asked.

The guard gave Henry a searching look. “Not at all. So we asked that bastard where he’d gotten the potion from, and he told us he’d bought it from some wretch in the fields a mile or so away. We sent some men to get him, and turns out the man’s a charlatan! A thief and a bastard he may be, but he’s not a witch. They knocked down his door and he told them everything: his potions are nothing more than water, herbs, and nettle dye. They searched his hut and it seemed like he was telling the truth.”

How could that be? Henry had felt the effects of the potion within moments of him finishing the drink. He could still feel it in his blood, the steam left after a boil. The heat of it, the energy. He had been compelled like he never had before. How could that have been fake? 

The brew was supposed to elicit feelings where there were none. It was supposed to twist the humours to make one act. But it hadn’t. That hadn’t been his humours, his bile, his changeable insides.

It had been him. Just him. And—

He turned. Hans’s mouth was a tight, hard line. 

“I must go.”

“Hans—”

Hans ignored him. “Sir.”

He nodded towards the marshal and strode away without so much as glancing at Henry. Henry made his farewells and hurried after him, Leaving the confused marshal in his wake.

“Hans! Hans, wait—” Hans did not slow. Henry caught up with him and grabbed his arm. “Hans, for fuck’s—”

Hans twisted around. “Do not touch me.”

“What?”

“I said let me go!” He pulled his arm out of Henry's grip. “Let—” he took a breath, like he was suddenly winded. He folded into himself. It put Henry in mind of a sheet on a washing line, stilled in a breeze. “Let me go, Henry.”

He was wearing the expression that had been on his face last night: fear, panic. It was like he was playing at being angry. His tone was clipped but his eyes; those were sad.

Henry took a step back. Hans gave him a last look - misery and venom - then strode away.

***

The sun had set by the time Henry left the forge and returned inside. He’d found his way there around midmorning, having finished anything he could usefully do around the keep and feeling distinctly aware that Hans would refuse to speak to him should he search him out. The heat and rhythm of the repetitive work helped keep him calm, keep him distracted. With the red-hot metal beneath his gloved hands there was little room to let his mind wander.

He couldn’t think about what had passed between him and Hans when he was too busy making sure he didn’t get a nasty burn. Even if the heat of the fire made him think of the heat of Hans’s skin, if the fizz and splash of the water conjured images in his mind of sweat and spend. Even if the heavy hammering of iron put him in mind of a much different sort of blow.

He poured himself into the work, forcing the thoughts away. His eyes stung when he was finished, the fire of the forge blindingly bright against the darkness outside. His arms were covered in tiny burn marks.

He hadn’t even noticed.

His limbs were feeling leaden and heavy as he entered the hall. Sir Radzig looked up as he entered, waving him over.

“Henry, my boy, how are you?”

Henry sat beside his father, gratefully taking the cup of wine he offered him.

“Well as can be,” he said, vaguely. 

Sir Radzig, thank God, didn’t press the matter. Henry didn’t know what he would have said if he had demanded to know what was troubling him. He sipped at his wine, trying not to focus on the empty chair where Hans usually sat.

“There you are!” Henry turned to see Sir Hanush in the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you, lad.”

Henry rose to his feet automatically. “How can I assist, Sir Hanush?”

Hanush grabbed the wine jug and gestured carelessly for Henry to sit back down.

“I appear to have lost my nephew,” he said. “Hans has been holed up in his chambers all day. Refuses to come out, if he’s even in there. No one’s seen hide nor hair of him. Wondered if you had.”

The last time Henry had seen Hans had been early that morning when he had walked away from him, leaving him alone and baffled in the middle of the road. He had assumed he’d returned to the keep and distracted himself in his usual ways - wine and women. It was unsettling to hear he’d been wrong.

“I haven’t,” Henry said, “not since this morning.”

Hanush shook his head. “Look, could you do me a favour? Go up there and try to work out what he’s so bloody worked up about. He trusts you.”

Henry wasn’t so sure that was true anymore. He didn’t even know if Hans even liked him after what had passed between them. But he needed to talk to him. He’d have gone to find him even if Hanush hadn’t asked him to.

Maybe it would all be alright. He’d grab a plate of tarts from the kitchens, the biggest jug of wine he could find, and go up to Hans’s chambers. They’d talk. They’d work it out.

They had to. 

He rose from his seat. “I’ll see what I can do.”