#The only driver actually reaching for that warm touch

[cecoeur]

There's something poetic about him being touched by sunlight | 📸 - Bryn Lennon

[tired-biscuit]

A friend, a mate, and all things in-between

18+ MDNI, fem!reader/werewolf!bsf!kiba

premise: after finding out the truth about the role you supposedly play in kiba’s life, you settle on a compromise of taking things slow and seeing where the wind takes you while you’re at it.

cw: monsterfucking, knotting, implied breeding, mounting, size difference, omegaverse themes, werewolf saliva used as aphrodisiac. college/modern AU, friends to lovers, established mating bond, jealousy, descriptions of a close call-cheating encounter in the past, usage of sweetheart and bunny as pet names for reader.

wc: 22.8k

find part one here!

———

On Saturday, Kiba takes you out for dinner, exactly like he’d promised.

The restaurant by the lake that you’ve decided to visit is quaint as much as it is familiar. The lighting is dim but warm, and the tables are clean even if some of the edges have been smoothed out with age and use. Pictures and framed newspaper articles cover the walls. All of them feature your little town in some way or another.

There’s a pleasant tune playing on the tiny, white speakers that are fixed in the corner. You’re pretty sure you’ve heard the song on the radio before. The easy-going notes resemble the elevator music you sometimes hear whenever you go shopping at the local mall and have to reach the garage underneath, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad, necessarily.

If you had to describe the place, it reminds you of a diner that’s gotten stuck in the past, that is if a diner was situated next to a lake and the modern aspects of it were entirely excluded, of course.

After all, there is a shiny new coffee machine sitting behind the counter, and the waitress is wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt instead of a uniform and rollerblades — the latter being a missed opportunity in your opinion.

But speaking of time; both yourself and Kiba used to come here all the time back when you were younger, even going so far back that your feet were left dangling in the air as soon as your butts had plopped onto the same plushy chairs you’re sitting in now. Making choices was easier back then — the only food you ordered had come from the kids menu.

You can still hear his, ‘Are ya gonna finish that?’ somewhere in the back of your mind. 

As well as his mother’s immediate hiss of disapproval, ‘For goodness’ sake, boy, let the poor girl eat her food in peace! With the way you’re acting, people are gonna start thinking that I don’t feed you enough.’

In the beginning, you both ate here with your parents. Afterwards — when the soles of your sneakers were able to firmly touch the floor and Kiba had won the bet and got his driver’s license well before you did — it was mostly just the two of you.

But as you sit across from him at the table that’s situated right next to the window, and which you’ve personally favoured for years — you know that he prefers the one that’s in the corner — you come to realize that this date is different from all the previous ones that you’ve been on in this exact place with him.

Because unlike the rest, this one is actually for real.

And it shows, you think. In many ways, with the most obvious one being the fact that your best friend has tidied himself up rather nicely despite the high temperatures outside.

There are jeans instead of gym shorts on his strong legs, and clean shoes on his feet instead of the busted sneakers that he swears up and down are still holding on just fine. He’s even gone through the hassle of putting on a short-sleeved button-up with a pretty pattern that cleverly melds into the colour of the cotton if you’re looking closely enough — not that you are!

In classic Kiba fashion, the top two buttons of his shirt are undone; open just enough for the glint of a thin golden chain to catch your eye whenever he tilts his head to the side or stretches his neck.

You haven’t been staring at the piece of jewelry for long, wondering where or who he’d gotten it from, however you can still tell that there’s no pendant hanging off the necklace. No charm or initial either.

Good.

Wait, wait, wait… why is that good? Are you by any chance hoping that he’ll agree to wear yours because of it?

The thought succeeds in heating up your face with stress — a popular emotion this entire situation has been evoking as of late. Ever since he had admitted that you were his mate back in the tent, you’re still feeling the pressure of deciding if you actually want to be one. 

And placing a mark like that on him, clasping your golden initial around his neck and consequently announcing that he’s your property now… It’d signal just that, now wouldn’t it?

Attempting to whisk away the dilemma that’s been plaguing your mind for the last couple of days, you force your eyes to dip from your best friend’s neck, down to the plate of half-eaten food that you’ve still got sitting in front of you. 

Your grip on the fork is tight as you chew. The food is good, even if you can’t taste it all that much from how absent-minded you are.

In a mere instant, Kiba is leaning in to ask, “You okay?”

He’s always asking that as of late.

Are you all right?

Is everything okay?

Are you sure?

“Yeah.” The nod you give him is so stiff and fast that it comes across as unnatural instead of genuine. “I’m fine.”

You try to ignore the curious smile that curls his lips as he continues to watch you eat, undoubtedly inhaling the anxiety that riddles your scent in subtle waves now. 

He’s learned that it intensifies whenever his foot accidentally touches yours underneath the table. That it doubles in strength whenever he looks you in the eyes for too long. Sometimes it even happens when he grins. Practically everything seems to be setting you off today.

You’re nervous, that much is clear. Are way up in your head about this entire thing just like you are with everything else that happens in your life. And while finding out that you’re basically a perfect biological match for your best friend is no small feat, the young werewolf’s opinion remains: you need to fucking relax. 

With how hard you’re squeezing that fork, it’s making him fear that you’re trying to split it in half — an act that he definitely wouldn’t mind doing to you again.

Woah there, reel it back in, lover boy… Easy!

Willing himself to push the dirty thought away by thinking about the food he’s eating instead, Kiba swallows the bite of steak he’d just been chewing on with a small, albeit conflicted sigh. 

The meat tastes rich despite the fact that it’s been served nearly raw — the bloodier, the better when it comes to dining with a werewolf, you suppose — however, he finds it hard to fully appreciate the meal when unlike his taste buds, his libido is far from appeased.

“Anyways.” He pauses to glide the tip of his tongue across his front teeth, further appreciating the savory taste that’s stuck there before he leans in slightly closer again. “You look really pretty tonight.”

Hearing his compliment, you look up from your plate; carefully eyeing him from underneath your lashes which you’ve taken the time to coat with a thin layer of mascara before leaving the house. It was a decision made solely for your own peace of mind.

Well, probably. 

Taking a shallow breath now, you ask, “I do?”

“What kind of stupid question is that… ‘Course you’re pretty, bunny. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of layin’ my eyes on,” he says, chuckling quietly and propping his cheek against one palm with such ease that it’s almost scary.

Watching you succumb further into yourself in response to his niceness is entertaining as hell, he can’t lie. You’re lost, vulnerable. If looks as sweet as the one that’s sitting on your face right now had the power to kill, he’d be proclaimed a dead man ages ago. 

It compels him to add, “You’ve always been pretty to me.”

Messing with you or not, what he says now is the truth. Sticking by your side in the role of your best friend for so many years, Kiba has seen you be at your best as often as he’s experienced you at your worst, and has nonetheless always, always thought the exact same thing about you: that you’re perfect. 

Perfect for him, that is.

Whether you’re wearing trendy skirts or hoodies so big that they entirely hide your shape, he still likes you all the same. Whether you’re walking around with freshly washed hair and with make-up on your face, or you’re still stumbling around because you’ve just woken up from a nap that has left you all disoriented and sweaty — to him there’s no difference as long as it’s you.

Part of it is the bond’s doing. It veils you with an appeal that draws him to you no matter what. However, whilst that may be the case, he thinks that the majority of his wild infatuation has to do with plain familiarity instead.

After all, it’s your heart that is his favourite thing about you, that much he’s positive about… Even if the shy little smile that you give him now could be considered quite the competitor. 

And quite the competitor it is! Kiba’s eyes are practically glued to the wet-like sheen of your lip gloss when you slowly shake your head to chide a meek, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he inquires immediately with a grin of his own.

“Stop flirting,” you say, placing the fork back onto your plate with a soft clink. Crossing your legs underneath the table, your body language is trying its hardest to appear strict as you add, “We said we were going to take it slow, remember…? Or are you just playing dumb on purpose?”

“What’re you talking about; we are taking it slow,” he says, his tone a matter-of-fact one. “Actually, I doubt it can get much slower than this.”

Your lips purse in response. “Talking in a way that makes you sound like you’re trying to get into my pants does not mean slow, Kiba.”

“You’re not wearing any pants, though.” His gaze slips down to the light sundress you’ve put on for the night. It makes your tits look great, but he knows you wouldn’t be happy to hear that.

You snap your fingers in front of his nose, forcing him to avert his attention from your dress. “That’s besides the point and you know it.”

“Oh, c’mon.” He takes another bite of his food, then points his fork at you, seemingly in an accusatory type of way as he mutters, “I’m just saying… If we did it my way, I would’ve bent you over ages ago.”

“Can… Can you not?! God.” You fight to extinguish the heat that immediately begins to simmer on your cheeks, but it’s proving to be quite difficult. The warmth is so strong that it even manages to travel down to the base of your neck. “Just… be quiet for a second, okay?”

His upper lip twitches as his grin widens. “Why?”

“Just ‘cause!”

Kiba huffs a laugh at the slightly higher pitch that you speak in now, shoulders shaking the tiniest bit. He watches you clear your throat and readjust in your seat, and even goes as far as to drag his gaze from your face to your neck when you reach over to take a small sip of the cocktail you’ve ordered. It still sits on the table looking half-full; creating a prominent circle of moisture on the crispy white table cloth underneath. 

The drink is colourful and summery. Even has a little paper umbrella on top. He had joked about how girly it looks earlier, but had secretly considered ordering the exact same thing just to see what the inside of your mouth must taste like. After some consideration, he’d ended up settling on a coke though.

He knows you’d nag him to no end about drinking when he’s the one who’s driving… even if alcohol doesn’t do shit when it comes to him.

Still, girly drink or not, the ice somewhat succeeds in cooling you off and poses a challenge to the sudden heat of bashfulness that threatens to sweep you off your feet. It’s like all your senses have gone acute all of a sudden.

The sigh you let out because of it is one of only partial relief.

“What’s the matter? You hot?” Kiba teases instantly, his voice dropping so dangerously low that you can almost feel it reverberate in your bones. “Hot and bothered?”

“Shut up,” you hiss before taking another sip, this time a larger one. You need it if you wish to endure this menace of a man.

“What’s in it for me?” the mentioned menace questions now, taunting you with that infuriating half-smile that he knows damn well provokes you immensely. He even goes as far as to wiggle his eyebrows as he gives his best effort to purr, “Does it make you feel things, mm? Makes you wanna— Hey!”

His taunting gets replaced with a huff of disapproval when you suddenly kick him in the shin, making the fork rattle atop your plate. The kick itself is nowhere near to being powerful enough to actually hurt him, considering his thick skin and the firm cords of muscle that hide underneath, but it does get the message across. Kind of.

“What’d you do that for?” A playful little pout sits on Kiba’s mouth now. It makes him look younger than he actually is; makes him resemble the kid that you spent all your time with back in high school, as well as all the years prior to that. 

“Because it was well deserved, you dumbass,” you mumble, still staring at his face. A small, slightly less nervous chuckle bubbles up your throat when he bristles in answer. “Now be quiet and eat your dinner.”

Not even batting an eye, he blurts out, “I’d rather eat you, though.”

You give it your best shot to scowl at him even if the tease sparks heat somewhere inside your middle all over again. It’s the reason why your voice doesn’t sound as strong as you want it to be when you say, “You’re hopeless, you know that? Actually hopeless.”

“Actually, I think I'm quite on my game tonight.” He gives you a wink, reaching for his fork again. “But you can keep tellin’ yourself that if it makes ya feel any better, sweetheart.”

He’s right. 

It makes you sigh.

———

The rest of your first proper date with your best friend goes well. Scarily so.

In fact, neither of you picks up the phone during the entirety of it. The only exception is when you decide to stalk your old classmates from high school together and share a good laugh about some of the results you stumble upon.

“Oh shit, he’s actually completely bald… What the hell?”

“Called it! I fuckin’ called it!”

Your face hurts from laughing so much and with the initial nervousness gone, dinner goes smoothly. You end up sharing dessert and talking nearly until closing time — releasing the growingly impatient waitress from your clutches at long last and mumbling sheepish apologies along the way because of it. 

To be honest, the entire outing isn’t much different from all the previous ones you’ve indulged in the exact same restaurant all those years ago.

However, you soon find out that that is because the change in your dynamic presents itself afterwards; when he turns to look you in the eye the second you sit in his car and asks you if you want to go to his place, despite the fact that it’s getting late and he doesn’t live with his mom anymore.

And you go. You nod your head yes and you fucking go. For what reason, you, yourself don’t know, but you might as well find out while you’re at it.

So around quarter to midnight, you arrive to the little apartment that Kiba calls his new home. It’s cozy and a little messy, though not to a degree that should cause concern. Otherwise, it’s lived in and definitely your standard guy apartment.

He shows you the kitchen, immediately rolling his eyes when your gaze lands onto the small pile of dishes in the sink — two cereal bowls and a mug that for some reason says ‘World’s Best Dad’ on it — and points you in the direction of the bathroom, his roommate’s bedroom, and finally, his own room, which you tell him you’ll take a look at some other time, preferably during the day and when you don’t have three sugary cocktails coursing your blood and clouding your better judgement. 

You did say that you were going to take it slow, after all.

By the time he drags you into the living room, you let out a small gasp of joy when you come face to face with Akamaru, who lays curled up on the couch, depicting the epitome of comfort.

Scurrying to sit down next to the big pup and offering him your hand to sniff so that he can hopefully recognize you despite not seeing you in years, you begin to understand what Kiba had meant with the term ‘senior dog’ during your camping trip earlier.

Christ, he’s gotten so old.

“So, what do you think?” your best friend calls out from the hallway now. He’d gone there to hang up your jacket for you at first, but it seems like he’s also using the chance to turn off the lights as he goes. 

…As well as to run off into his room to change his fancy clothes for a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a simple T-shirt. Typical.

“It’s a nice place. Pretty spacious.” You’re too busy petting Akamaru, pretending you aren’t interested in him when he throws himself onto the couch right next to you, even if your body tenses up just the tiniest bit at the closeness.

You’ve already fucked him, for crying out loud — several times in the span of one night. What are you acting so damn nervous for?

“But?” he mumbles, seemingly not noticing the subtle change in your body language as he crosses his ankles and flicks on the television. 

“What do you mean but? There’s no but,” you chide in answer, still scratching the white canine behind the ears and really trying to put all your focus into the movement instead of the warmth of your best friend’s body that is slowly spilling into your side now. 

The brown patches in Akamaru’s fur have gotten dull in colour with old age. His eyes look tired and he’s also nowhere as lively as he used to be, though he still puts in the effort to give you an appreciative little wag of his tail when your fingers dig into the sweet spot that you remember is hiding underneath his chin. 

“There’s always a but with you,” Kiba insists, changing the channel yet again. He’s not paying attention to the TV, not really anyways, but he pretends that he does just so that you can breathe a little easier.

However, when you turn your head so that you can shoot him a glare for the sly remark, you catch him staring right back at you with that stupidly lovestruck smile playing on his lips.

Lowering your gaze, you try to act like it doesn’t cause butterflies to start fluttering inside your belly. Meanwhile, he tries to act like he can’t smell the sudden sweetness that the feeling evokes in your scent.

“Oh, fine.” You pause, ceasing the petting for a moment. “I suppose it could use a little bit of a woman’s touch here and there… And you definitely could’ve washed the dishes prior to inviting me, but that’s all.”

“For your information, I didn’t wash the dishes ‘cause it’s Kankuro’s turn to do ‘em,” he says. And grins. “And if the place really needs a woman’s touch as badly as you say it does, then you’re more than welcome to touch it all over.”

“Kankuro is your roommate, I take it?” you ask, choosing to skip over the thing he’s hinting at. The butterflies still continue to flutter, though.

“Yep,” Kiba replies, playing with the remote now. The symbol on the power button has long since faded out with use and it doesn’t surprise him really. Him and Kankuro had found the TV on Facebook Marketplace. Bought it so cheap that it felt like a steal.

You listen to the quiet click of claws as Akamaru slides off the couch and ventures down the hallway, aiming straight towards Kiba’s bedroom. He’s probably going to use the chance to hog up as much space on the bed as he possibly can before his owner can beat him to it. Smart dog.

“What’s he like?” you inquire. “This Kankuro guy?”

“He’s, you know… Kanks is just a regular dude as far as I’m concerned,” your best friend says, still staring at the remote. “Cleans up after himself and is good with Akamaru. He does that cosplayin’ shit from time to time, though… Paints his face for those anime conventions that you see online and stuff. It’s pretty dope.”

“Does he know about,” you trail off, making sure to lower your voice just in case, “you know… The whole howling at the moon thingy?”

“Fuck no.” Kiba shakes his head, his lips curling into a smile. “You, Hana and mom are still the only ones who know, but now I’m kind of starting to think that I should’ve kept it a family secret instead of telling your dorky ass about it… Howling at the moon thingy? What are ya; twelve?”

You stick your tongue out at him at the remark. He tries not to stare at it for too long.

“Say…” A couple of moments pass. Your gaze dips to your lap as you ask, “How come you never told Tamaki?”

The mention of his ex-girlfriend makes Kiba want to cringe. His smile falters, twitching downwards at the corners, but he forces it to remain at least semi-present despite the fact that you’re not looking at him. Either your hands must have become the most interesting thing in the world, or you’re ashamed for inquiring about his past relationships.

“Ah, you know,” he mutters after a short moment of silence. His tone sounds very distant out of the blue. “Just never found the right time for it, I suppose.”

You hum at his answer; just a little noise of acknowledgement. “You never found the time even after being with her for… several years?”

How could he, if it also meant having to explain that he was eternally tied to his best friend; the girl he’d always assured her that she shouldn’t be worried about?

Kiba gives a hard, obvious swallow, unable to stop his jaw from clenching a little. “Yeah.”

You pick at your nails, pretending there’s something underneath them in order to appear busy. “Do you miss her?”

“I, um… I think I used to, but I definitely don’t anymore.” He sees the dumbfounded look you give him now and scrubs a tired hand over his face. “I know it sounds awful when I put it like that, trust me, I know, but the bond between me and you doesn’t let me feel things like… that anymore. For other people, I mean. It’s just… It’s a bitch to explain.”

He had loved Tamaki. Perhaps he still does; in a way that would never be enough for her and that is considerably less than what she actually deserves, but after finally connecting with you, his mate, the mere thought of ever being intimate with someone else again repulses him greatly. 

He’d tried to make it work. To give her what she’d desired, deserved. Every embrace, kiss, conversation, trip, and so much more. However, you’d always been right there, sitting in the back of his mind during it all. And now that he’d gotten the chance to place his mouth on yours, and had tasted you, had been inside you, he feels so fucking stupid for even attempting to do such a thing in the first place.

It’s either you or nobody.

“So, anyway… Cosplay, huh?” you ask randomly, clearly trying to brush the heavy topic away despite being the one who initiated it. 

He blinks, slowly. “What about it?”

“You really think it’s cool?”

“Yes,” he snips all of a sudden. The change of tone makes you even more puzzled than you already are, especially when he adds, “Is it that hard to believe or somethin’?”

“Well… yeah,” you mumble while scratching your cheek. It’s a challenge to contain the surprise that tries to show on your face now; your eyebrows are insisting on rising up nearly to your hairline. “I mean, the Kiba I know would’ve straight up bullied a person like that.”

He blanches at your statement. “That was one time! I was just being honest with the poor suckers when I told them that carrying Yu-Gi-Oh! cards to school is the reason why they’re all still virgins… In fact, I was probably doing them a favour!”

“No,” you object. “You were being mean.”

“Then it’s a good thing that we’re not in high school anymore, I guess.” He flicks the remote onto a nearby pillow and crosses his arms behind his head before he says, “And just so you know, I’m not just some mean asshole that you constantly keep referring to me as. People can change. Myself included.”

“I didn’t–... I didn’t mean it like that,” you reply a bit too fast, feeling every blink your eyelids make. His gaze is unmoving from your face and it’s causing you to become hyper-aware of your body. “I know there’s more to you than just acting like a prick, come on. I wouldn’t be friends with you otherwise.”

He sighs in answer, his face tight. You do the same.

Awkwardness settles in.

“Uh,” you utter at some point, finally daring to look up at him again. “Want to tell me the reason why you like it, though?”

“Like what?” he asks dumbly.

“Cosplay.”

“Oh.” A brief second passes before he, at long last, chuckles. You’re relieved to see his shoulders sag a bit with it. “Well, if I’ve gotta pick one thing, I guess it’s ‘cause most of the chicks are dressed in those hot, skintight bodysuits?”

“Seriously?” A pang of jealousy resonates within you, but you do your best to repress it. It’s too early to be feeling all that. “That’s the best thing you can come up with? Girls in tight bodysuits?”

“No, I’m just messin’ with ya, hah…” He grins, but swallows thickly again and runs his fingers over the back of his head before he continues, “While those are nice, don’t get me wrong, I guess I really like it because it’s like Halloween, in a way?”

“Halloween?” you repeat, even more confused.

“Yeah.” He gives you a nod that could almost come across as sheepish. “Someone can dress up as something that’s supposed to be big and scary, and when people see it, they aren’t… Well, they aren’t afraid of it, necessarily? Instead they just think it’s cool and fun, you know?”

Finally, Kiba tears his gaze from your face, allowing it to settle onto his lap instead. Silence stretches between you once more as you continue to stare at him. Your head tilts to the side just as his drops lower, and you make the decision to reach out so that you can gently pat his knee in understanding.

Your entire body begins to glow from within when his hand rests atop your own. He traces your knuckles and gives them a gentle squeeze. The sensation is truly something you haven’t had the chance to experience before with anyone other than your best friend. There’s just so much nostalgia hiding in the small portrayal of affection.

The tone of your voice slips into something soft because of it, so soft that it comes across as barely above a whisper even to his sensitive wolf hearing when you ask, “I take it that that someone is you, in your… other form?” 

“What? No, I, uh… It’s not me.” He lets go of your hand to awkwardly clear his throat, trying to ignore the sudden ache that appears in it before he sits cross-legged and rests his elbows on his knees. 

By the time he’s ready to speak again, he’s already fiddling with his fingers. “Besides, even if I actually wanted to go, I still couldn’t. I’m far too big for that. Far too… scary-lookin’.”

He wants to though, you can see it bright as day. Can see that he’s tired of hiding a whole other half of himself — a half that he’ll unfortunately have to keep hidden for as long as he lives. Tired of making excuses and being overly cautious when he’s the exact opposite of it, and missing out on important events whenever they’re set on days following up to a full moon. Tired of receiving weird, uncomfortable glances whenever instinct takes over and his true nature pushes forward a bit too far past the barriers, when all he yearns for is to be liked.

Just… fed up with it all.

However, you also know that Kiba hates being perceived as vulnerable. So rather than moping with him and indulging his sadness and thus worsening it, you instead use the chance to snort and playfully nudge him in the shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah?” you say, making sure the lilt in your voice is overly noticeable. “Is that so?”

The nudge you give him makes him look up, as does the sudden change in your tone. At the sight of your friendly smile and the challenge simmering in your eyes, his expression eventually lightens to something a bit less stormy.

You’ll do just about anything to drag your best friend out of the bubble of melancholy that he’s surrounded himself with. 

And the best thing about it? You know that he would’ve done the same for you.

“Yeah,” he says, playing along now, albeit reluctantly. He’s still not quite where you want him exactly, but you’re getting there.

“Well, how big and scary are we talking, big boy?” you continue to inquire, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“I–” He snickers at your flirtatious prodding, rolling his eyes right afterwards. “Too big for anyone to handle,” he says, “and that includes you.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Can he truly get that big? You’ve never had the chance to see him turn full wolf yet, so his statement causes your stomach to fill with warmth. Heat travels downwards, over your thighs and between your legs, and you swear that you can hear him inhale a breath that’s slightly deeper than usual when it happens. 

The unannounced nerves are making you want to start pacing around the room, but you force your body to keep still.

“Well, you not believing me ain’t my problem, now is it?” he says, his smile suddenly wistful now. The light that comes from the TV makes his unnaturally big canines glimmer with moisture. It’s hard to not look at his mouth because of it. 

Words slightly wobbly, you manage to say, “I’m your mate, though.”

Mate. He perks up at the word, just like he always does, but his voice doesn’t make him sound particularly fazed as he utters, “And?”

“And that makes me your problem,” you explain, finally daring to move so that you can scratch your cheek again. It’s nothing more but an attempt at self-soothing. “Doesn’t it?”

You’re unsure why you’re pushing on this specific topic — especially after being the one who had once again suggested taking things slow in the first place — however, to be fair, you’ve been curious about it for a long while, even before you’d tangled yourself into this whole ‘bonded for life’ mess.

But now that the link has been revealed, the desire to lay your eyes on the unthinkable has become as potent as ever.

There is just something so undeniably appealing about the idea of seeing him in his werewolf form. Something thrilling in discovering the unknown; touching it with your hands and grazing it with the tips of your fingers. Something reassuring in accepting all of him, especially after he’d just partially trusted you with his insecurities revolving around this specific topic.

So yes, it’s either that, or it’s the newly discovered monsterfucker that’s been hiding inside you this whole time that’s talking and coaxing him into showing himself now. Or perhaps it’s both. Who knows?

You try to feign indifference to the best of your capability as you wait for his answer, even if every single inch of you is buzzing with relentless expectation. 

With bated breath that could very well match your own to perfection, Kiba inches ever so slightly closer, seemingly completely unintentionally. His gaze is laser-focused as he studies every feature that your face provides. The curve of your jaw, the shape of your lips, the colour of your eyes — he burns it all into memory before he at long last settles on the upper corner of your left cheek.

His burning stare causes your heart to pound faster than it normally would, and you know that he can hear it despite the fact that his ears are nowhere near your chest. Still, you insist on not moving a muscle. Insist on being brave.

“I’m too big for ya,” he says finally, gesturing over himself with his hand. “This is all you’re gonna get after you’re done playing the ‘takin’ it slow’ game with me.”

You bristle, clearly displeased with his answer. “But I’m–”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Believe me, I wish it would, but it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re only human.”

“Humans can adapt! And being one, as you’ve so kindly pointed out, I’m pretty sure I can take it,” you object, heart still going thump, thump, thump! Something tells you that this isn’t just about cheering him up anymore. “Actually, I know I can.”

If he’s fucked you like a feral animal without transforming, how off the rails can he get if he doesn’t have anything holding him back anymore? 

You tense up when he gives you a harsh, almost derisive kind of laugh. Sit straighter when he says, “I’d tear you to shreds.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“The point is that I could.” The corners of his mouth twitch downwards at the horrible thought. “And that’s not something I’m willing to risk.”

You roll your eyes. “Since when are you one to say no to taking risks?”

“Since last week,” he replies. “Give or take.”

“You mean…?” A quick wave of heat washes over your face again. You went camping last week and he’d slipped into rut whilst sharing a tent with you; accidentally confessing everything that’s tied him to you ever since he’d first laid eyes on you all those years ago. 

He nods. “You’d be surprised how much being with a mate can change a wolf… I’m boring as fuck now.”

“But I don’t want you to change! I love you just the way you are,” you find yourself saying. The reason must be that last cocktail you persuaded yourself into ordering and eventually drinking. It’s untied your tongue like it’s nothing but a measly shoelace.

Nevertheless… 

Love.

Kiba’s breath hitches at the word, deeply-rooted emotions swelling within his broad chest, however he — very painfully — chooses not to ask to hear it again as soon as the subtle whiff of anxiety wafts over to his nose.

You’re embarrassed because of what you’ve just said. It makes his chest squeeze to the brink of pain.

“I mean–” you start, fumbling with your words. “I–”

“It’s okay,” he says, patting your knee as casually as he’s able despite the fact that the smile he gives you now seems just a smidge too tight. “I know what you meant. Now stop making it awkward or I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

Hyper-sensitive — his touch lights your skin on fire. His palm barely moves from its initial spot, but you can feel every callus to adorn his fingers, every minuscule stroke, as well as the reassuring squeeze that makes you want to straight up jump his bones.

And fuck, it’s nice. So nice, in fact, that it persuades you to stop him when he goes to pull his hand off your leg.

“Wait… don’t.”

“Mm?”

“You can touch me.” The words roll off your tongue before you can reel them back in again, but you still decide to put on your bravest front even if your upper lip is a second away from quivering.

Short-lived surprise crosses Kiba’s face. You watch with nervous eyes as his hand falters before it eventually settles on its original spot again. He grasps it more firmly this time. Squeezes with intent instead of reassurance.

There’s a beat of unsure stillness in the air before he brings himself to ask, “Like that?”

You give him a nod, feeling a little more confident while also paying mind not to be so tense. There are so many things you have to keep track of; god, why can’t you just relax and be more like him? Everything has to be so darn complicated whenever it comes to you! 

“Bunny,” he says, his tone still slightly unsure. “I thought I told you to stop making it awkward.”

Phantom lightning strikes your insides, melting them into liquid. “I’m not making it awkward.”

“‘Course you are. You’re completely stiff.” His grip tightens and it makes your eyes grow wide and your body turn even tenser in response. 

His own eyes aren’t their usual chocolate brown shade when he lifts his gaze to look at you again, but they sure are dark as sin. 

“See?” is all he says, a little out of breath. 

“I’m not,” you insist, the sentence completely useless. Your throat feels terribly dry all of a sudden. It makes your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth. “You’re just… imagining things.”

He quirks one brow. Repeats your challenge from earlier with the same tone, “Oh, yeah?” 

You bite your lip — a lame attempt to refocus. “Yeah.”

But before you know it, he uses one hand to shove you until you’re laying flat on your back, sinking deeper into the couch cushions, causing you to let out a little noise of startlement. 

His head pops into your field of vision as he hovers over you now. Aside from the light that comes from the TV, the room is shrouded in darkness. It makes only half of his face visible, however you can still see the glimmer of his teeth when he smiles down at you.

“You’re still sure about me imagining things?” he asks, clasping his fingers around the fat of your thigh. “‘Cause this is looking pretty real to me.”

“Y-yes,” you reply, challenging him further. “I’m sure.”

His grin turns wolfish as he drags his gaze over your somewhat disheveled form. Across both of your collarbones, now exposed due to the thin spaghetti straps of your dress slipping off your shoulders slightly, as well as the rising hem that’s slowly showing off more and more of your legs.

He’s looking at you like he’s planning to eat you. But rather than digging in, all he does is sneer as he says, “Brave words for someone who oddly resembles a plank right now.”

Well… that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Fuck you,” you drawl in answer, a mere hint of disappointment crossing your features — disappointment you’ll never admit to feeling. Urging your body to relax once more just so that you can prove him wrong, you instead try to focus on calming down your breathing.

However, it’s hard to do so when your best friend is literally on top of you, watching you with hungry eyes and the most complacent of smiles. Hard to do so when his fingers are now toying with the string that ties the front of your dress together and holds your tits in place. Hard to do so when—

A small gasp escapes your lips when he jabs you in the side all of a sudden.

The bridge of your nose scrunches in annoyance. When you try to stop him from repeating the action, he just takes you by the wrist and uses the chance to pin it above your head. “Don’t do that.”

“Or what?” He huffs a laugh at your weak attempt to fight back. Pokes you in the side again, making you whine. “What are you gonna do ‘bout it, hmm?” 

You don’t say anything as you squirm underneath him, trying to break free from his grip, but your efforts are to no avail. He’s got you locked in tight; has even made sure to pin your other hand the same way he did the first one when you tried to use it to push him in the chest.

“C’mon, bunny,” he taunts, his smile growing, growing, growing. Gosh, he really is such a wolf, isn’t he? “Is that really the best you can do?”

“No, it’s just not fair,” you say, trying to tame your pulse. The position you’ve wound up in is making your mind wander to all sorts of things. Dirty things.

“What’s not fair?” he asks, rubbing his thumb across your wrist.

“The fact that you’re so much stronger than me and expect me to throw you off like it’s nothing,” you mumble, huffing as you look up at the spot where he’s pressing down on your wrists. “I mean, how am I supposed to do anything, when you can hold me down with just one hand?”

The way his pupils widen with obvious excitement at your statement should concern you, but you know better than to think that he’d ever actually hurt you. It’s just the predator in him playing. A side he cannot stop from slipping into the spotlight every so often. A side he feels safe enough to share with you.

He likes being described as big and overpowering. Call it a guilty pleasure.

“Try using your legs,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with want. You can still distinguish the smile in it though. “I heard bunnies are supposed to have quite a kick to ‘em.”

“I’m not an actual bunny, shut up,” you fuss, but do exactly as he says. You kick your legs…

…and end up wrapping them around his waist instead.

Flustered warmth sears your face, neck and chest all over again as your ankles lock on the small of his back seemingly by their own accord. The skirt of your dress hikes up with the movement, exposing more of your thighs; offering him a glimpse of your cutesy underwear that you didn’t think twice about wearing because you weren’t planning on starting anything with him tonight.

And yet here you are.

The rise in temperature that you’re feeling all over blazes into something more profound now. Heat gathers in your stomach. Your legs. Between them, too. Anticipation tightens your skin, bringing the blood that runs underneath it to an angry simmer.

Kiba’s smile slowly fades when he senses the particular tension that now riddles the air around you. You stare at each other even if it’s hard for you and easy for him. For fuck’s sake, it feels like he’s burning holes into your fucking forehead when he looks at you like that.

“What is it?” you ask, nerves working overtime. “Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”

“You smell so fucking good when you’re turned on, did you know that?” he rasps in answer, completely ignoring your question and pitiful attempt at diffusing the situation. His nose is already leading him to that very tender spot hiding in the crook of your neck.

You flinch when he nudges your jawline, silently asking you for permission to give him more space. Not trusting the lump of nervosity that’s taken up residency inside your throat to not betray you all of a sudden, you allow it wordlessly and by angling your head slightly to the right.

“Your scent is so… I can smell how wet your cunt is even from here, god,” he trails off without an ounce of shame, every word lower and lower in tone. He takes another deep breath. Savours it with a soft groan. “You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.”

Embarrassment flashes through you like lightning does a stormy sky. The realization that he can immediately pick up on the scent of your arousal — as well as the aftermath that the ability brings — is overwhelming. 

It makes your heart thrum even faster than it did before. Consequently, your thoughts are now nothing more but a jumbled mess as you desperately attempt to tame your pulse back into a rhythm that’s normal instead of completely erratic.

But it’s not just you who’s having a hard time. The muscles in Kiba’s arms have gone completely stiff and his inhales are deep and audible instead of calm. He only pauses them to press cautious little kisses over your neck, most of which he eventually starts mixing with even smaller nips with the help of his teeth.

You’re pouring with sweat because of it. His apartment is warm, too warm even if it didn’t feel like that before, and his mouth is hot just like his tongue is as it repeatedly presses against your sweet spot. The action even causes goosebumps to appear all over your arms and legs. Great.

“Relax,” he mumbles, the tip of his nose practically smushed against your neck. “We’ve done this before.”

“What makes you think that we’ll do it again?” you hiss, fighting tooth and nail to appear authoritative. It doesn’t come off as strongly as you want it to, though.

“Call it a hunch,” he says, unable to resist a smirk. “Or whatever.”

Your lips remain a firm line. Unimpressed. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Sure am,” he trails off with a lazy grin as his fingers brush the side of your neck. He looks at you. And winks. “You can be too, if you wanna. Full of me, I mean.”

“N-no?! The hell,” you splutter out, squirming even more. Sly motherfucker, damn him. “I thought I told you-”

“Relax! C’mon,” he repeats, huffing another laugh. “You know damn well that I’m just fucking with you, sorry, messing… No need to lecture me all the time.”

You roll your eyes. “You say that as if you can actually be lectured in the first place.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Did it ever cross that naggy mind of yours that I don’t listen to you because I don’t want to, and not because I can’t?”

“Oh yeah, many times,” you reply, glaring at him. “Drives my naggy mind crazy.”

He muses like a satisfied cat at your statement. “You drive me crazy.”

“Stop hitting on me!” Your entire face scrunches up in annoyance. “Sweet talking isn’t gonna get you laid.”

“Then what will?” He drags his tongue along your pulse point. Blows air on the trail of saliva so that he can watch you writhe at the cold sensation to overcome you, then. “You want me to chase you around a lil’ bit first? Play a little game of prey versus predator with ya to get you to sit on my dick tonight?”

A small groan of agitation is the best you can do when it comes to answering his taunting.

“Or do you want me to really work for it, hmm, bunny?” His grip tightens around your wrists. As if to serve as a reminder. “Even though, judging by how you’re lookin’ right now, I could just take it all for myself either way?”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat. “You wouldn’t.”

His upper lip curls, revealing those sharp canine teeth again. “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t.” 

But he could.

Still, your breaths continue to intermingle. Doubt gets overridden by lust. Hands explore; one pair of them courageous as it can be, the other perfectly timid in contrast. The former even uses that courage to hike the hem of your dress up to your waist, completely exposing your lower half amidst all the grinding and writhing that’s slowly, but surely, coming into fruition. 

Kiba looks like he’s already won as he leers between your legs with that obnoxiously knowing glint in his eye and the equally as infuriating half-smile. 

He seems to be aware that you’re trying your absolute hardest not to react to the obvious bulge that’s in his sweatpants now. That you’re trying to ignore the rushing thrill that surges through you whenever he presses it against your traitor of a cunt — which still hides under the plain cotton panties you apparently swore you wouldn’t let him see tonight.

So he pushes it against you again. And again. Applying pressure, rubbing, testing out the playing field, waiting for you to tell him to stop. 

You don’t though. No, all you do is bite your lip in order to suppress the moan that’s impatiently waiting behind your clenched teeth and wiggle your hips whenever the hot contact strikes.

“Fuck, you’re so cute.” He can’t hide how entertained he is as he mumbles, “You want my cock? ‘Cause I’ll more than gladly give it to ya.”

A low hiss slips past your lips when his hard-on manages to bump your clit over the layers of clothes. It makes your brows furrow and your legs squeeze around his waist even tighter. 

“I didn’t–” You pause to close your eyes and inhale a rather wobbly breath. By the time you open them again, he’s already staring right back. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, his own eyes flashing with what you think could be pride. “I can already tell from how fuckin’ soaked you are... Look.”

He reaches down between you then, running a single knuckle down your clothed slit. Your hips buck in answer to the touch almost immediately; the damp patch that’s formed on your underwear now turning more noticeable, shaping the outline of your pussy even further.

It makes him yearn to tug your panties to the side so that he can feel the slick coating his fingers before he can push them into your tight little hole, but he knows you’ll cause a fuss and close up on him if he moves even a smidge too quickly for your liking.

Still, the sight nearly makes him drool. His cock twitches. Starts to physically ache with need. It’s not as bad as it was during his rut last week, but fuck… this entire stage of foreplay and trying to lure you into pound town could be a close second, he can’t lie.

“Do you always get this wet whenever someone touches you,” he finds himself asking, “or is all of this just f’me?”

He hopes it’s the latter. Wants it so bad. The mere thought of someone else seeing you like this, touching you, spreading their scent all over you, claiming you, loving you… He’d let you go if you wanted to be with someone other than him, he’s told you so before, but that doesn’t mean that he’d be particularly happy about it.

Actually, he’d be quite miserable. Excruciatingly so.

You give him a pointed glare, face stern. He’s received the same look from you so many times over the years that he’s grown to love it, but you don’t fail to notice how his smile tightens with each passing moment that he waits for you to answer his question.

“Well?” he pushes, unable to resist. His eyes are getting more yellow by the second and his teeth are getting bigger. It makes his voice sound gruff as he says, “Who’s it for, bunny, mm?”

“I’m not telling you,” you say quietly, trying to make sense of all the emotions that are swelling up inside your chest now.

It’s a challenge to do so when they’ve been continuously swept under the rug for years on end and have only just recently been brought back into the open, though. When you’re unsure where your friendship stands. When you don’t even know if the love that your best friend feels for you is actually genuine, or if it’s just a thing that’s been forced forward solely because of the mating bond that eternally connects him to you.

You can’t help but wonder: would he still love you the same way he loves you now even if you weren’t his mate? If he were nothing more but a simple human, unable to connect with someone on such a deep biological level. Would he still fall for you — his best friend?

Or would he still be with his now ex-girlfriend, surely renting an apartment with her and exchanging doting glances and smiles during breakfast every morning, mind completely free from you the second you’d leave for college after every summer?

Would he even be your friend?

What if you’re just a burden to him?

“Hey.”

The sudden pinch that you receive to your left cheek tugs you out of your inner turmoil that has come to plague you all of a sudden.

Kiba’s eyebrows are cinched tight when you blink up at him. A small wrinkle of worry etches into his forehead and continues to deepen with the heavy silence to surround you. Even his jaw seems to be set firmly in place. 

Instead of hot and bothered, he just looks plain worried now despite the gleam of sweat on his brow and the almost sex hair.

“Mm?” is all you decide to let out whilst rubbing your wrists that he’s since let go of.

“You okay?” he asks, choosing to stroke your cheek instead of pinching it this time around. The pads of his fingers are rough, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. “You’ve completely zoned out on me just now.”

“I’m fine,” you say, despite that your chest remains feeling unbearably tight. The urge to touch it as a means to console yourself is hard to suppress, however you’re well aware that it’d just cause him to worry even further. “Sorry.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you smell kind of sad all of a sudden,” he mumbles, wolf eyes still zeroing in on you. He’s following every minuscule movement you make and it’s unnerving. “And I don’t know about you, but that definitely ain’t a thing a dude would want his girl to feel when he’s planning on sinking balls deep into her.”

“Sad?” you repeat, ignoring the lewd comment even if it makes you feel tingly between your legs. His cock, albeit not as hard anymore, is still persistently pressing against your pussy.

“Yeah,” he says. “Kind of like rain.”

This fascinates you. Your expression lightens as a result. “You mean like petrichor?”

He gives you somewhat of a dumb look, biting the inside of his cheek. “What?”

“Never mind, it’s just something dorky we learned in school,” you say, chuckling faintly at the confused puzzlement that now sits on his face. “Forget I said anything.”

He doesn’t respond, so you sigh, running your palm over the side of your neck he’d just been kissing a moment prior. The skin there is still warm. Tender. It makes you shiver when your fingers graze it.

“C’mon, what’s wrong?” he mutters, still eyeing you just as intensely as before. “I can tell whenever something’s bothering you… Spit it out.”

“Nothing is bothering me, okay? Gosh,” you try to reassure him, but still turn your head to the side to stare at the television. 

The movie he’d put on earlier is already halfway through and you doubt he has the option to rewind it. Oh, well.

Watching you dismiss the entire thing, Kiba looks like he’s about to fight you on it, surely getting ready to accuse you of being a liar like he’s had a habit of playfully doing in the past. However, just when his mouth pops open to say the words, you prevent him from doing so by pressing both of your palms on his front and gathering up his T-shirt between your fingers.

He stills only for a second before he starts to push out his chest at your touch, puffing up with male-like bravado as he goes. His shoulders square up. His eyes flash with that sublime yellow colour. And you might be imagining the whole thing at this point, but you swear that even his scent grows stronger in intensity. 

The entire room is engulfed by that signature amber scent now. You peer up at him once more, mind slightly hazy and astounded.

But besides the astonishment, you also feel… soothed. Kind of.

Burden or no burden, he’s down bad for you all the same, isn’t he? 

“What is it now?” he grumbles in answer to the wide look in your eyes. “You’re starin’ at me all weird-like again.”

You swallow the saliva that’s gathered in your mouth for what must be the millionth time tonight. It’s runny and thin, laced with adrenaline. “Are you courting me right now?”

“Huh?” His face twists into a look of pure confusion for a second time in a row.

“You’re pushing your chest out like a bird during one of those mating dances that you see on TV,” you explain, tugging on his T-shirt as if it’ll help you prove your point. “Are you trying to impress me or something?”

“Tsch… What? No... It’s just, ah… The fuck?” He blinks, shaking his head as if he’s trying to get his thoughts in order. His back hunches slightly with the action. You’ve caught him completely off guard.

You smile. “What is it, then?”

“It’s just my body reacting to a mate’s touch, damn… I told you about it in the woods last week, didn’t I? What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth once more, apparently unaffected by what you have to say, but also immediately draws back; causing distance until he’s lying between you and the backrest of the couch instead of on top of you. 

You’re not aware of it, but he’s beginning to blush like a sucker after he realizes how that treacherously primal part of his brain had made him react just now — fully without his knowledge.

Trying to appear bigger and wooing you with his scent? What are you, animals? Besides, you aren’t even capable of distinguishing pheromones like he can, for fuck’s sake! What’s he doing all of this weird shit for?!

This time, heat continues to climb up Kiba’s neck instead of yours, and overtakes his entire face with such speed that it makes his cheeks itchy. Even the tips of his ears have turned hot to the touch. He feels like he’s on the verge of melting into a puddle of despair any second now.

Gosh, you must think he’s such a loser.

He doesn’t say anything else as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer until your back is pressed against his chest, feeling slightly relieved to not hear any protests from your side. 

But to some extent, he’s not all that surprised. While you might be taking this entire thing slow, spooning is nothing new. You’ve done it even whilst you were both desperately trying to keep your friendship as something purely platonic instead of whatever it is now. So when you compare it to all the grinding that you did just now, this is angel city.

His voice is barely above a sheepish murmur as he says, “Whatever… Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

You don’t mention that the film is nearing its end and that you’ve already seen it in theaters a couple months ago with your friends from college. Nor the fact that you found his little portrayal of desire — as well as the feeling of embarrassment that followed it afterwards — outright adorable and that it helped ease your worries a little bit.

No, all you do is snuggle up closer to him and nod your head yes.

———

Summer passes by quickly when you’re reunited with your best friend again.

If you had to describe the last couple of months with one word, it’d be nostalgic. During the days when he’s off work and you’re not busy with your family, Kiba makes sure to take you on a trip down memory lane one way or another. 

On some evenings, you drop by the small convenience store that you used to constantly occupy as kids, so that you can buy popsicles and then sit on a bench in the nearby park; taking turns licking the different flavours and talking late into the night, or at least until the artificial colouring has been wiped away from your tongues. 

On particularly hot days, you drive to the lake where you’ve both been taught how to swim by your parents in order to cool off, and compete to see who's able to hold their breath the longest. He ends up being the winner almost every time, of course, and never misses the chance to rub it in your face.

You even still do shitty movie marathons, however this time they’re occasionally accompanied by Kiba’s roommate, Kankuro, who you’ve since learned is a pretty cool guy, despite his slightly odd obsession with purple face paint. He’s also the one who’d helped you bake Kiba’s birthday cake back in July.

All in all, things concerning your best friend have remained quite the same as they’ve always been. Well, most of them did.

There may have been a couple of changes here and there ever since you’ve learned you were his mate. 

Some are pretty tame. For example, you can’t brush over the look of pure longing that appears in his eyes as he watches you lick a rogue droplet of sugar whenever you’re sucking on the popsicle he’d just handed you. Or the way his touch lingers on your shoulders and traces down your spine and hips when you ask him to help you apply sunscreen on your back after your swim.

But then there are some of the more twisted kind. Sometimes, whenever Kankuro can’t make it to your movie marathons, you also can’t ignore the way your best friend sighs and grunts and whispers the nastiest of profanities into the side of your neck as you sit on his lap and rub your clothed pussy against the hard-on in his pants.

It’s always done the same way. On his couch, in the dark, and never talked about afterwards since it tends to make you both agitated with even more lust. Your skirt is bunched up in his too-big hands — you’re always making sure they don’t go any farther than that because they try, oh boy, do they try — and there are zero kisses exchanged between you in order to keep things moving slow but still giving him the fix he needs so that he doesn’t slip into another unannounced rut, as he likes to call it.

So far, your compromise shows promise. Over the span of the last couple of weeks, there had only been one single occasion of actual skin on skin contact; when he’d somehow managed to distract you for long enough to pull your panties to the side and pull out his cock from the confines of his clothes without you being quick enough to stop him. 

However, much to his — and secretly your own — misfortune, you’d been mewling his name and rubbing your pussy against him for a long while back then, consequently overstimulating him to great, almost unfair lengths in the process. The second his cockhead had gotten the chance to bump against your soaked entrance, he was not bound to last. 

So he’d spilled everything he had with a sharp hiss and a frustrated “fuuuck” and just like that, you were safe from being pounded into oblivion once again — if you exclude the sticky, cloudy white mess splattering between your thighs, that is.

And that was that.

But now, with summer coming to a swift end and a new school year waiting right around the corner, the time has come for you to say goodbye to your best friend once again.

Kiba accompanies you to the airport and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug when it’s time for you to board your flight, his features unusually impassive during the entirety of it. He leans down to kiss your cheek, surely receiving curious glances from your parents with the act, and mumbles something about texting him when you land so that he knows you’re safe.

You do as he asks of you when you arrive to campus that day, even going as far as to send him a picture of your little student apartment that you share with two other roommates, jokingly calling it a dump. He reads your text message almost instantly, but his reply is curt. When you call him to say good night after you’ve finished unpacking your stuff and settling in, you barely recognize the sound of his voice.

“G’night,” he mutters. “Try not to be a dumbass on your first day.”

The jab is meant to be playful, but instead it comes across as void of any kind of emotion whatsoever. Flat and unlively. You can tell even if he desperately tries to cover it up with more teasing remarks and lame jokes. 

It gets better over time, though. You’re well aware that he’s handling the distance way worse than any other regular human would, especially since he’s a semi-mated wolf now, so you try to keep him in the loop as often as you can. He, on the other hand, tries to give you space and keeps his more possessive side on a tight leash. His main priority is to make your friendship — or should you say situationship — work.

Speaking of his more possessive side, you’ve both made precautions to lessen the chance of the beast within him from going haywire. He makes sure to go completely off the grid during a full moon, and every so often, you mail him a T-shirt or two so that he still has a way of inhaling your scent and thus satisfying the urge to come seek you out. After the scent fades out, he sends your clothes back washed, but not ironed; typical for a man like him, before the cycle repeats itself again.

He’d once, jokingly, not so jokingly, texted you about sending him a pair of your panties instead, however all he got in response to that was an angry wall of text and a series of pissed off-looking emojis. He’d abandoned the idea soon after.

You do indulge him with phone sex from time to time, though. And while you do keep telling yourself that it’s done solely to keep him in-check, deep down, you know that that simply isn’t the case. 

Because when the hour is late, Kiba likes to remind you just how badly he misses you in that warm, rich, confident voice that makes your back want to straight up arch from the bed. Likes to talk about all the things that he wants to do to you with zero hesitance — hesitance you wish you, yourself didn’t have — while he strokes his cock; all until you find yourself reaching into the drawer of your nightstand so that you can hurriedly press your trusty pink vibrator to your clit. 

But it’s not just you who finds him hot — your roommates do, too. They’ve peered over your shoulder once or twice while you were FaceTiming him in the kitchen, fully clothed, of course, and have since been asking for regular updates on your so-called ‘boyfriend’, wondering when they’ll get to meet the guy who’s actually managed to swipe the rug from underneath your feet, in person.

And the answer is: on Halloween. They’ll meet him on Halloween.

———

Oddly enough, Kiba seems to fit right into the college party scene, despite never pursuing a degree of his own.

After successfully planning out his visit together, you realize that the frat house that you’ve dragged him to in order to celebrate this year’s Halloween in, is packed with people; some of them in costumes, while the rest have decided to go for a more casual approach. 

Dressed in jeans, the same faded baseball cap that you saw him wearing back when you’d bumped into him in the grocery store at the beginning of summer, and a simple T-shirt and flannel combo, your best friend doesn’t particularly stand out amongst the latter. 

He’d landed this morning, grinning tiredly and with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. You nearly started bursting at the seams with joy the second you caught sight of him halfway across the airport. He wasn’t much better.

Hugging out all your emotions first, you then spent the entire day catching up, as well as healing the phantom wounds that the distance had caused. It was nice. So nice, in fact, that you’d almost forgotten how easy and complicated it was at the same time with him.

And now here you are. Together again.

Eyes glimmering with fondness, you watch as he leisurely chats with your friends who he’d already gotten to meet back at the apartment. As is expected for an extrovert like Kiba, he has no problem keeping up with the conversation. 

His body language is relaxed even when he has to lie about wearing yellow contacts; swiftly feigning that it’s because he wants to keep the spirit of Halloween alive and because he, of course, couldn’t possibly have brought a full costume with him to the airport. 

Meanwhile, you’re well aware that his reasoning couldn’t be farther from the truth. His eyes had shifted from their regular brown shade the second he’d caught you emerging from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and with a bunny ears headband sitting atop your head — a rather mediocre choice of a costume, but one that you knew he’d dig nonetheless.

“What, no heels?”

“Have you seen the floor of a frat house before?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re going to now, and then you’re going to understand why I chose normal girl shoes.”

While riddled with mischief at your answer, his eyes haven’t gone back to normal since.

And neither has he. No, instead he had spent a good twenty minutes scenting you in the privacy of your little bedroom; embracing you and running his rough hands up and down your arms and sides, touching your neck and face all over until you were almost late to the party and glittery highlighter coated every last one of his fingers.

“You do realize that normal people don’t have a heightened sense of smell like you do, right?” you’d grumbled by the fourth repetitive stroke, making a face when he even went as far as to lean in and start rubbing his cheek against your own. “Nobody is going to be like, ‘Woah, watch out! This one smells like werewolf property!’ if I get kidnapped or something.”

The laughter-like sound he’d let out had come across as terribly jeering. “You say that like anyone would even have a chance of forcibly taking you away from me.” 

With a soft incline of your head, you had asked, “Wouldn’t they?”

“‘Course not, you silly bunny.” He’d looked you right in the eyes then, his pupils briefly thinning into feline-like slits, allowing the apex predator within to shine on through. “I’d rip out their throats with my teeth before they’d even get a chance to blink. Easy as pie.” 

His gaze had been shiver-inducing. The words even more so. “But what if there would be like… ten of them?”

“I can take on ten people.”

“You can barely handle me whenever I’m in a lousy mood.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you don’t count, then.” The grin he’d given you in return had been sharp. Too sharp, despite the cutesy dimple digging into his cheek. Especially as he held your face between his palms and purred, “Also, you’re not my property, you’re my mate. It’s supposed to make us equals, so please try to act like one for my sake, yeah?”

And they said romance was dead.

“Yeah.” Attempting to not pay attention to the butterflies that were wildly fluttering in your stomach again, all you managed was, “Equals who are going to be late.”

“Shit.” His eyes got wide as saucers at that. He’d given one last stroke, one last squeeze, and had pressed a hasty kiss onto your forehead before saying, “Okay, I think I’m done... Ready when you are.”

You’re unsure if it’s placebo, but you think his scent still clings to you even two hours later, when the party is in full swing and you’re chatting away with one of your guy friends in the kitchen.

Besides said friend, there are only two other people in the room — none of which you can recognize, from the way they’re too busy eating face only a few meters away from you. Kiba, reluctant to leave your side despite your many reassurances, had somehow gotten dragged into a round of beer pong by a group of rowdy jocks.

Every so often, you can hear cheering coming from one of the rooms nearby. You don’t doubt that he’s acquired quite a crowd for himself already. His dream and your worst nightmare.

“So, what’s the deal with you and the dunce?”

Blinking at the sudden question that whisks away your brain fog, you look up from your plastic cup of cranberry juice that others have been using to mix their cheap vodka with. Not feeling like taking the risk of being hungover because of particularly shitty booze the next morning, you’d decided to stay sober tonight, hence the juice.

“Sorry, what?” you ask. “I wasn’t listening.”

Your friend, Shikamaru Nara is his name, looks at you with signature exasperation at having to repeat himself again. 

“I was asking about your… friend,” he mutters after a brief pause, using the second chance of you not hearing the initial jab. 

“Oh, you mean Kiba?” you say, bringing the cup up to your lips. “Yeah, what about him?”

“Are you hooking up with him?”

The sip of cranberry juice you’d just taken lodges itself into the back of your throat at the question. It hurts like a bitch as you fight to swallow it down, unable to resist squeezing your eyes shut at the sensation, however you manage to avoid sputtering and coughing yourself into embarrassment by the end of it.

Clearing your throat as discreetly as you can, your voice sounds slightly hoarse when you ask, “Why do you ask that?”

Shikamaru, without missing a beat, says, “I dunno, he just looks at you like he’s planning on eating you or something. It’s odd.”

You glance up at the man that’s leaning against the kitchen counter next to you, noticing how the whites of his eyes are red instead of as the name suggests. His pupils are so big and round and hazy that they remind you of a cat looking around in the dark. He seems to be so high that he doesn’t have a problem with saying whatever is on his mind.

Either that, or he simply doesn’t give a shit. Both are valid reasonings whenever it comes to him.

“Kiba’s just… protective,” you manage to say after a brief moment of thought, shoulders shrugging. “He’s been like that ever since I can remember.”

Shikamaru’s eyebrow raises at this piece of information. “Even when you were kids?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod vehemently. “Back then, it was even more intense than it is now, I think. You should have seen him playing a friendly game of dodgeball when we were in high school.”

‘HEY! AIM THAT BALL AT HER HEAD AGAIN, AND I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL SMASH YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN NEXT, YOU LOUSY FUCK!’

The memory makes the corners of your lips curl upwards. You’re quick to hide the smile behind the rim of the cup.

“Hm.” Shikamaru hums, puffing out a tired sigh that you’ve had the pleasure of hearing countless of times ever since meeting him during your first year of college.

“What is it?” you inquire.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Just thinking.”

“You’re always doing that,” you say. “Thinking.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he answers, giving you a lazy grin that doesn’t seem to reach his dark brown eyes.

You huff a laugh at the tease. “And what is it that you’re thinking about with that brilliant brain of yours, Megamind?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to look at him, using the chance to drag your gaze over his side profile. Over his high cheekbones, as well as the sharp outline of his nose. The cigarette that’s tucked behind his ear. The slight wrinkle between his eyebrows that tells you he’s thinking very hard about something.

A couple of loose strands of dark brown hair have escaped his ponytail, framing his face in a way that flatters him greatly. Being so dark, they’re a perfect contrast to his creamy skin that’s so unlike Kiba’s sun-kissed one.

Come to think of it, they’re nothing alike. Shikamaru is lean in build despite being awfully lazy by nature, whereas Kiba packs muscle with hard work. He’s smart, rational, not at all prone to anger, and can sometimes come across as borderline aloof. 

Besides a couple of other things, all he seems to care about is putting in the minimal amount of effort when it comes to getting by in school, so that he can achieve mediocre — but passable — grades, and thus has nothing left to worry about by the time the weekend rolls around and the bong comes out to play.

His tendency to be overly laid-back was the exact reason why you had decided to go out of your comfort zone and fool around with him last spring. With no strings attached, you’d fucked while still managing to remain friends afterwards. Besides that, he was such a perfect opposite to the man you’d left behind in your hometown, that it had almost been a, dare you say, refreshing experience.

But Kiba never did go fully away, now did he? Not even after you’d completely ghosted him and finally ceased stalking him on Instagram; trying to rid yourself of the sinking feeling in your chest that appeared whenever he posted a picture with his girlfriend at the time. Not even after you’d deleted the chat logs you shared with him on just about every app you could find, knowing you’d regret it afterwards. Not even when you’d left the pictures and other memories back at home, sealed away in a box underneath your bed.

You’d been sleeping with the deer while silently yearning for the wolf.

It’s why you broke the entire thing off with Shikamaru sometime after the New Year, aiming to rather try and move on solely by your own efforts — fresh start and everything. All whilst not knowing that you’d become a mate to your childhood best friend by the end of summer.

“Shika,” you utter, your gaze as soft as your voice. “I–”

“It’s okay. I think I got the gist of it,” he cuts in, staring at his shoes. “Whatever it is that you two have going on between you; it’s older than what we had. So, it’s more… fleshed out? From being best friends since kindergarten and stuff.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, angling your cup so that you can take the last sip of your drink. “I guess it is, when you say it like that.”

Shikamaru reaches out to wipe away the rogue droplet of cranberry juice that comes sliding down from the corner of your mouth, then. However, before his thumb can even make contact with your bottom lip, you’re quick to do it yourself.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” a voice calls out from your left.

Kiba’s jaw is set and his eyes are hard when you turn to look at him. He stands in the middle of the doorway that leads into the hall; the light that’s shining behind his back obscuring most of his face from view, however you can still see that he forces his expression to remain fairly neutral as he begins to approach you. 

Every step he takes towards you makes you feel like it could make the ground shake. It doesn’t of course, at least not in a physical kind of sense, but his anger is becoming so palpable the closer he gets that it very much could. For some reason, it’s even worse that he’s trying to hide how pissed he is.

After all, Kiba is prone to anger that resembles a wildfire — the kind that spreads quickly and consumes everything in its path. Once it’s started, it’s hard to make it fizzle out before it does too much damage. You just have to let it do its thing and pretend like everything is normal.

Burn, baby, burn!

“No,” you say when he reaches you, pretending like the entire ordeal doesn’t faze you at all, despite the fact that your heart is now pulsating wildly in your chest. “You aren’t.”

You’re well aware that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that doesn’t mean the others are safe.

He stands before you like a wall of muscle, emitting white-hot rage with every exhale. With how tense his shoulders have gotten, as well as the bulging vein in the side of his neck that’s surely there because of how harshly he’s gritting his teeth, he looks like he could crush someone to death. 

However, his touch ends up being surprisingly tender when you allow him to grip you by the chin. You repress a relieved chuckle as he angles your head back slightly, making you realize that he’s touching the exact same spot Shikamaru would have if you’d let him. So possessive.

His brow furrows as he inspects you and his voice is rough as gravel as he says, “Why are your lips so red?”

“Cranberry juice,” you explain, pointing to the empty cup you’re still holding in your hand. “How did beer pong go?”

“It sucked ass,” he drawls, tugging on the brim of his hat with impatient fingers. The fireball of anger keeps on sizzling in the pit of his stomach. It makes his blood run hot. “The two dudes I went against were both so shit-faced that they could barely stand, much less score... I regret being sober.”

“Weren’t you drinking before, though?” Shikamaru asks all of a sudden.

Uh-oh. At the sound of the Nara’s voice, you watch as he slowly turns his head to the side in the same uncanny way a robot would have done.

Kiba looks the other man right in the eye, making a quick mental note to keep both of his arms glued to his sides in order to refrain himself from swinging just because he even had the balls to speak up while he was talking to you.

Jesus fucking Christ, since when did his temper get this short? He needs to work on it in the future or else it’s going to become a problem.

“Beer doesn’t do much for a guy like me,” he grits out after a brief moment of recollecting himself.

His tone is completely flat. Icy. 

You stare at the muscle that keeps on fluttering in his cheek even if he’s trying his hardest to tame it. At how yellow his eyes have gotten, nearly glowing in the dimly-lit kitchen, threatening to ruin the ruse of being contacts. At the way his chest heaves; rising up and down in such a manner that it makes you fear he’s seconds away from pouncing.

Shikamaru, being the intelligent man that he is, must have come to the same conclusion, because now he pushes from the counter with an awkward bounce in his step as he says, “Well, I guess it’s time for my smoke break… If you’ll excuse me.”

Either that, or the more primal part of his brain is telling him to get the fuck out before it’s too late. It’s so bad that even the make out enthusiasts proceed to follow his example.

“Bye, Shika,” you utter quickly, giving your fellow classmate a small wave when he passes by. Meanwhile, Kiba only stares, probably drilling warning holes into the poor guy’s back all the way to the very end of the hall.

Alone in the kitchen at long last, your best friend allows himself to sigh as a means to relieve some tension. The muscles in his arms relax as he rests them on either side of you, successfully trapping you against the counter.

You don’t feel caged, though. That’s the important part.

Led by that comforting feeling, you place the cup onto the counter before reaching out to carefully stroke him over the chest. “You okay?”

“No,” he grumbles, trying not to preen right in front of you at the touch. 

Your eyebrows draw together. “What’s wrong?”

His do, too. “You know damn well what’s wrong.”

“Enlighten me, please.”

“Not that it’s a you problem or anything…” He sighs again and this time the sound is way longer than earlier. “But I can’t leave ya alone for two seconds without someone immediately trying to sneak their way into your pants.”

“What?” The laugh you let out is a slightly incredulous one. “I know that you’re forced to see me in some kind of holy light because of the mating bond, but you’re seriously flattering me way too much with this one, Kiba.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” he says, his lips thinning into a firm line. “What do you think that the douchebag with the cig and the big-ass forehead was tryin’ to do just now? Ask you to join his debate club?”

You push aside the insult for now, making a note to prohibit him from saying it aloud whenever you’re in the company of others. “His name is Shikamaru.”

“I don’t care what his name is,” Kiba says, bristling. “All I know is that I could smell how hard his dick was getting around you from a mile away, and it made me-”

“Jealous?” you cut in.

He frowns. “I was gonna say grossed out, but sure.”

You giggle before biting your lip to stop the sound. “Come to think of it, that does sound pretty gross, you’re right.”

“Whatever.” He huffs, lowering his gaze. It’s not long before there’s an even deeper frown gracing his mouth.

“What is it now?” you ask.

“Nothing. Well… I just- Ugh.” He groans in frustration, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I know I said that I’d always respect your decision when it came down to choosin’ between me or someone else, but I didn’t think it’d be this… hard.”

“What are you going on about?” You pry his hand away so that you can look him in the eyes. His pupils are nothing but slits. “I haven't made any kind of decision yet. Nothing happened.”

“Okay, but still… Seeing someone else trying to touch you like that, scenting it…” he says. “I thought I could handle it for your sake, but clearly that ain’t the case. I should’ve cooled off before trying to start shit, and yet I actively chose to behave like a dick instead.”

“Actually, I thought you did a pretty decent job at controlling your awfully jealous self. Give or take,” you console, giving him a playful wink. It only causes his brow to furrow further.

“That’s not the point. Jealousy might be all fun and games to regular people, but it’s different with me. I felt like I was seconds away from skinning the dude alive… And maybe eating him afterwards, I dunno,” he says, his expression turning even more troubled than before. “Bet he’d taste like shit, though.”

“Well… What matters is that you didn’t do that.” You pat his shoulders as a form of encouragement and quickly decide on not telling him about your history with Shikamaru just yet since you’re not particularly fond of the idea of having a body on your hands. “One step at a time, yeah?”

“I guess,” he mutters. Disappointment still continues to bubble in Kiba’s stomach. It brings forth a slightly bitter taste on his tongue.

You stare at him, raking your gaze over the great expanse of his shoulders, down to his forearms, which he’s got revealed due to the sleeves being rolled up to his elbows. Now that the initial anger has diminished from his face, he just looks plain miserable. Like a puppy that’s been soaked to the bone, despite that he’s far bigger than that.

“You wanna go home and cuddle it out?” you blurt out all of a sudden, tracing the tattoos on his left forearm with your index finger.

He peers up at you from underneath his lashes. Not wanting to come across as even more clingy or suffocating, all he utters is, “If that’s what you want.” 

“I’m asking you.”

He looks down again, bright yellow eyes zeroing in on his shoes. If it weren’t so dark in this godforsaken kitchen, perhaps you would’ve noticed the subtle blush tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I mean… If you really don’t wanna stay here,” he trails off, swallowing thickly. “Then, yeah. I suppose we could go back to yours and cuddle a little.”

You grin. “Look at you getting all mushy on me.”

Kiba gives you an eye roll. “Oh, shut up before I change my mind and just catch the first flight home.”

———

Despite initially not wanting to seem clingy, Kiba becomes exactly that after you both rinse off and clamber into bed that night.

In the dark, surrounded fully by your scent that lingers everywhere in your room, he feels safe enough to let his guard down; allowing himself to really dote on you properly — like he’s wanted to do for the last two months. 

As a result, his arm is protectively slung over your waist, and his legs are entangled with yours as he spoons you. His hand is beneath your shirt, tracing soft, lazy circles over your stomach. There are no claws in sight.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he grumbles at some point, sighing with contentment and squeezing you even closer to him. 

“Me too,” you admit, enjoying the close proximity. “Especially our dumb late night convos.”

You’ve been talking about everything and nothing in particular for the last hour or so; giggling and snickering like children and continuing on catching up, simply enjoying each other’s company. Just like old times.

Kiba clicks his tongue against his teeth in disagreement. “What d’you mean? They’re always dumb.”

“Well yeah, but that’s because they include you,” you tease, suppressing a tiny squeal when he pokes you in the side.

“As far as I know, it takes two to hold a conversation,” he fires back, squeezing your hip. “Unless you’re a nutcase, that is.”

“Hey, now… I talk to myself sometimes,” you say, turning your head to the side just enough to face him. “When I’m, like, thinking out loud and stuff.”

He quirks a brow at this. “Weirdo.”

“Pfsh.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “If anyone’s the weirdo here, then it’d be you, Mr. On all levels except physical, I am a wolf.”

“See, that doesn’t make any sense because I am a wolf on a physical level.” He drums his fingers against your skin playfully, hinting that he’ll maybe poke you in the side again. “Therefore, your joke sucks.”

“It’s still funny, though,” you protest. “And look at you, using your big boy words. Therefore. What’s gonna be next? Begging for a shilling?”

You watch as he smiles that wretched grin that shows off his dimple. His laugh is quiet, but it kindles a flame of affection inside your heart.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?” he says, still laughing.

“So I’ve been told, yeah,” you reply with a beaming smile of your own. His mood is contagious. “Multiple times.”

“Mm. I like it, though. This more confident, outgoing version of you.” After a brief moment of silence, he adds, “It makes me less worried.”

You ask, “Less worried about what?”

“If you’ll be able to stick up for yourself in case I’m not around,” he explains, not offering much more.

You blink as slight confusion begins to settle in. “And why wouldn’t you be around?”

“Well, you know,” he says, shrugging as a means to appear indifferent, but failing. “If you decide on being with someone other than me, then I guess there’d be no reason for me to stay in your life.” 

“What do you mean there’d be no reason?” you say, frowning deeply now. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware that the thing you say next is selfish, but you just can’t help it, “You’d still be my best friend… Wouldn’t that be enough?”

He smiles again, but this time it’s a little less beaming and a little more painful. “Bunny, of course it’d be enough. I’d spend my whole life trying to give ya the love that I think you deserve, even as just a friend. But let’s be real here… If I did that, it’d just cause… problems.”

“Problems?” you repeat, your voice hurt. “What kind of problems?”

“You’ve seen for yourself what happened tonight,” he says.

“Nothing happened tonight.” Quick frustration makes you groan. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that already, so why are we going over the same conversation again?”

“Exactly, nothing happened, but look at the way I still reacted to it,” he says, sighing out of exasperation instead of contentment this time around. “I was ready to go batshit crazy over nothing… How do you think I’m gonna react if we meet up and you’ve got your boyfriend’s scent all over ya? Who says I’m not gonna go and try to bite the guy’s head off?”

You stare at each other. The knot in your belly tightens at the way he looks at you; his eyes still burning with that striking yellow shade, despite the inner conflict that subdues it ever so slightly now.

“Do you think we were destined to be together?” you ask out of the blue.

Kiba gives you a look that tells you he’s starting to worry if you’ve gone a bit nuts. “What?”

“I mean, like, do you think that we had no say in this entire thing,” you attempt to explain lamely. “Or, well… that you had no say in it?”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” he says finally.

“Well, what would you call this thing between us, then?” you mumble. “I mean, isn’t a mating bond supposed to be just some kind of a wolfy version of it?”

“I- No, I don’t think so,” he says, slowly shaking his head. “I already told you that I approached you because of the bond at first, yeah… But over the years, I’m pretty sure that I’ve come to love you on purpose. Like, on my own terms.”

Your heart skips a beat. The world feels like it’s spinning all of a sudden.

“How can you tell the difference, though?” you croak out. “Between genuine love and the forced one that the bond is pushing on you?”

“Um… Because I’m willing to spend the rest of my life alone, fighting against the red string of fate or whatever the fuck you want to call it, if it means that you’ll be happy, I guess,” he whispers quietly, his expression suddenly thoughtful. “Come to think of it, it’d be like my own personal fuck you towards destiny, hah.”

There’s no one else beside you and him in the house right now — your roommates are still out partying and doing god knows what — but he says it like it’s a secret that he’s been keeping for years.

And you, well, you feel like crying. Like curling yourself into a little ball underneath the covers that you’re sharing with him at the moment, and simply sobbing your heart out until it’s leaking out of your chest.

But instead of that, you look at him. You reel the tears in as you really look at him, and you say, “All right.”

You’ve always been so cautious. So hesitant and unsure — nothing like him. Ever since he’d revealed the truth during that godforsaken camping trip, Kiba speaks of the love that he feels for you so openly. 

Goddammit, he loves you. He actually loves you. Not because of the bond, not because you’re his perfect biological match, not because his instinct is telling him to do so. 

No, he loves you because of the memories that you’ve made together. Because of the laughter that you’ve shared. Because of all the good and the bad and everything else that’s in-between.

He loves you because he wants to, not because he needs to.

“All right?” he repeats, studying your face. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“It means that I’m done taking it slow. I think,” you say, trying to stop your upper lip from twitching. Your body feels tense all over once again; you feel like you’ll start bursting at the seams because of the storm of emotions that’s brewing inside you. “For once in my life, I think that I’m choosing to go all in.”

Kiba’s heart begins to pound so hard that he can hear it ringing in his ears.

“You… You mean…?” he trails off, not even daring to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” you say as your breathing slightly quickens. “We can give this thing a try; properly this time. I-I mean, fuck it, right? We haven’t been just friends for a long while now, so what’s there to lose anyway?”

He smiles at that, and for a second it’s like you can see him again — your childhood best friend. Short and scrawny, but equipped with that brazen assurance that used to get him into all sorts of trouble.

“Yeah,” he says. His smile nearly grows from ear to ear. He feels like he could touch the sky at that very moment; unbridled joy is beginning to overcome him completely. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I, umm… I guess it’s time to admit that I’ve been crushing on you for years, then. Well, I think! I’m pretty sure I was always head over heels for you, even back in high school, but I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it too much because of… well, you know,” you trail off, still riding that high of confidence that allows every bit of truth to spill out of you now. 

“So when we almost kissed before I left for college, I… I got scared. You were with Tamaki at the time, and I was leaving, and I thought you’d end up regretting it from the way it would surely mess up your whole relationship and our friendship.” You look at him, eyes apologetic. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like I did, but god… The entire thing was so messy, just chaos waiting to happen, and I was too big of a coward to deal with all that, especially after moving across the country and turning a new chapter in my life. And I’m well aware that it’s no excuse for what I did, but I just wanted you to know… the real reason behind it. And that I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have regretted it, though,” he says, his gaze softening. “If you’d kissed me back at mine that night, I would never have regretted it. My relationship with Tam was a fuckin’ bust either way.”

“I know that now, you dumbass!” You huff, eyebrows cinching with frustration and stress. “But what’s the use if I didn’t know it back then.”

“Bunny,” he coos, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Breathe.”

“Oh, shut up,” you fuss, pushing him in the chest. “I’m over here, pouring my heart out to you, and you’re basically telling me to calm down. Idiot.”

He snickers at your anger, thinking it’s so cute that it’s to die for. “Well, what do you want me to do, then?”

“I want-” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, chewing on it as shyness manages to creep up on you at long last. You don’t feel as confident as before when it comes to admitting to your desires out loud, so the only time you stop your incisor from digging deeper, is when you mumble, “I want you to kiss me.”

If Kiba’s gaze had been soft before, now it’s gone utterly sweet and gooey. It makes his lids drop very, very, very low on his eyes.

“Yeah?” is all he says.

“Yeah. But not like you did back at home,” you say, remembering the urgency and the forceful clash of teeth that he’d given you because of the rut that had been cooking his brain into mush at the time. “I want it done properly this time.”

“I can do that,” he says, chuckling quietly. “But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy our first kiss. I could smell how excited you got over it, remember?”

“Whatever,” you hiss, bunching up the front of his T-shirt into your fists. “Either you behave and kiss me like a gentleman, or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.”

“Hah, all right, all right! No need to threaten me, jeez,” he says. He’s still laughing as he caresses your cheek with one hand and angles your head so that he can do what you’re asking him for. “C’mere, you grouch… Let’s get smoochin’.”

“I hate you.”

“I thought you said you loved me.”

“I said I liked you, not-”

The rest of your sentence is broken off by a kiss.

Unlike the first time, it’s gentle. Perhaps you could even call it romantic. He cups your cheek instead of gripping it, and doesn’t become pushy; rather allowing you to take charge of the pace. There’s no tongue, only lip brushing against lip. Your breaths intermingle, to the point that you both start quietly panting in-between the short little pauses that you use for air. 

Your stomach is doing backflips by the time he slowly pulls back to look at you. His eyes are not only yellow, they’re also ravenous, and they get even more intense when you reach out to comb your fingers through his hair.

The sudden yearning that swoops down upon him makes Kiba’s throat feel so dry that it’s like it’s burning from the inside out. It’s not quite the same as it was back during his rut, but he’s getting there. Oh, he’s getting there, all right.

“More?” he asks after the longest time of silence. His voice has turned completely hoarse. 

“Mhmm, yeah,” you hum your approval, turning around to lay on your back. He instantly uses the chance to prop himself up with one elbow and drapes his upper half over you.

With his face only a couple of centimeters away from your own now, you end up nearly nose to nose. His golden chain dangles from his neck, the sleek metal occasionally cooling your skin in places that it comes in contact with. It causes you to giggle. He smiles when he leans in to kiss you again.

“Wait. I’ve got a question,” you mumble against his lips.

“Mhmm, spill,” he replies in-between kisses.

“I was thinking… Would it be… too much, if I maybe bought a golden initial of my name for you to wear?” you ask, gliding your finger along the piece of jewelry. “Like, as a not-so-secret birthday present for you next year?”

“Nah, I’d wear it,” he says simply. “Only if you wear mine, too, though.”

“Sure.” Your smile grows, little by little. “I’m in need of a new necklace anyway… Just nothing too flashy, okay?”

He snickers. “We’ll get you one of those big-ass golden dollar signs with the diamonds on top, all right?”

“Okay, yeah, that way I can always resell it.”

“Meanie.”

Your hands run through his hair for a second time as you proceed to explore each other’s mouths after months of nothing. They tug at the roots once or twice, making him grunt, before travelling down the nape of his neck and settling on his strong back. Nails grazing the soft cotton of his T-shirt, you nearly start to claw at it when his tongue touches your bottom lip.

Eventually, the kissing gets needier. More desperate. You part your lips for him and he takes his time dragging his tongue across the roof of your mouth, the flat of your teeth, tasting you fully and savouring the minty flavour of the toothpaste that you used earlier. So much saliva gets exchanged.

Besides that, there’s also phantom electricity sizzling across your skin when he carefully sinks one fang into your bottom lip and tugs on it. His caution is endearing and hot to die for, but it also feels like he’s edging you kind of. It takes you all the effort you can muster to not let a moan slip out. 

What you do end up doing, however, is taking his hand and pushing it between your legs. Just like that, all by yourself.

And it’s warm there, between your legs — perhaps even a bit too much, Kiba thinks. He stiffens at your actions, hesitating only for a second before he cups your pussy right over the comfortable shorts that you wear to bed. Watches with semi-focused vision as your hips buck without any sort of doubt that would otherwise be common for you, searching for more friction despite the seam that is now pressing against your clit.

As you continue to rub yourself against the heel of his palm, more and more sweat begins to ooze out of your pores. You’re getting hot, so your hands work seemingly on their own to try and subdue the sudden rise in temperature as you curl your fingers around the hem of your T-shirt and hike it up — all until it’s touching the collar.

With your front now almost fully exposed, Kiba curses under his breath when the sweet, musky aroma of your arousal steadily begins to fill the room that you’re in. The door is closed and the windows are shut, so it hits him like a truck. His mind is getting foggier by the millisecond because of it.

“Something the matter?” you utter sweetly, honey dripping from every word. At this point, your chest has begun to heave with some untamed form of anticipation. You sound nothing like yourself.

“No, everything’s fine,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly. Once again, he’s beginning to borderline drool, this time at the sight of your tits. It makes it hard to talk. “Just enjoyin’ the view.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that so?” You fondle your breasts, running your thumbs across the sensitive nipples, making a show for him just to rile him up further. Who knew you had it in you? “Wanna tell me just how much you’re enjoying it?”

Spit threatens to drip down the corner of his mouth. He sucks it back in the last second. “Bunny… What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing’s gotten into me? Well, not yet at least… But come on, tell me.” You continue your ministrations, testing his patience. “You love to talk, don’t you?”

“I love to show off more,” he says before he moves his hand from its spot between your legs just so that he can grab you by the wrist and make you touch him below his waistline. “Here... This is all ‘cause of you. Happy?”

You blink as he curls your fingers around the bulge that’s pressing against his boxers, wanting out. Let out a breathless, almost patronizing kind of laugh. “Fuck, you’re so hard… I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt.”

“It does hurt,” he says, voice incredibly strained now. His lips quiver slightly when you give him a stroke all on your own, without him having to ask or beg for it. It makes his mind shift to other things than whatever it is that’s making you behave this way. “I want you so bad; like, so fucking bad… You’re drivin’ me completely nuts.”

You smile at how honest he is. “Touch me and we’ll get there, okay?”

And he smirks, even if his teeth are getting bigger again from the way he’s slowly losing control, gradually affecting his speech. “Don’t hafta tell me twice.”

He kisses you again, but this time it’s harder than before and done in a way that mashes your lips against your teeth. When you open your mouth wider to ease the pressure, all he does is fill it with his tongue. He gets so pushy that you have to resort to tugging on his hair to make him relent.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly, rather moving his hot mouth to your jawline and neck.

“It’s fine,” is all you manage to say before the grazing of sharp canines immediately shuts you up.

He moves fast after that, almost urgently, from how exhilarated he is to have you like this underneath him; only taking the time to get your T-shirt out of the way so that he can lick your collarbone next. You don’t even get a proper chance to react to it before he’s already dipping even lower to suck on your nipple instead.

“Ha-ah.” Your breathing stutters as you watch his nose smush against the fat of your breast. He’s swirling his tongue around the nipple, nipping it ever so gently from time to time and tugging on it with his lips.

Meanwhile, his hand has slid between your legs again. He’s running his knuckle up and down your slit the same exact way he’d done back at his place during the summer, making the seam of your pyjama shorts rub against your clit. The sensation makes your legs want to close up from the sensitivity that’s sparking there, but he makes sure you’re spread wide open for him at all times.

Eventually, he pops his mouth off your nipple only to begin paving a path of kisses down your stomach. And they’re audible, the kisses. He’s leaving little remnants of glimmering saliva on your skin as he goes, making your middle covered in it.

It’s almost fascinating how smoothly he moves for such a big guy. Before you know it, your shorts are tossed onto the floor right along with your panties, and your legs are propped on his shoulders, the heels of your feet digging into his back.

“Fuck, your pussy smells so good,” he rasps when there’s no barrier separating him from you anymore. He swallows hard at the scent of arousal that’s as strong as ever now, Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. “It’s makin’ me drool… I can’t stop it, m’sorry. I know it’s gross.”

You want to hide your face into the pillow because of how timid his words are making you somewhere deep down inside, but instead all you do is arch your back when he noses his way between your thighs and presses a sloppy kiss there.

His tongue follows suit immediately afterwards and he wastes no time with licking your slit, nudging between your folds, groaning with satisfaction at the taste. Your hands dig into his hair in an instant, grabbing fistfuls when he suckles on your clit.

It’s all happening so fast but at the same time it doesn’t seem fast enough. Heat intensifies inside the pit of your stomach, spreading throughout your thighs, your legs, right to the very tips of your toes. You dig your heels deeper into his back, pull him closer by the hair so that you can receive more.

“Shit, fuck, oh, fuuuck,” you half-moan, half-whisper, borderline gasping for air when you feel his tongue push inside you. It’s longer than a normal human’s, slightly coarser too. It makes you wiggle your hips as you try to fuck yourself against his goddamn face in response.

You have no clue if there’s some secret chemical component in his saliva that’s making you act this feral, but you simply can’t stop writhing and moaning like a slut. What’s even worse is that he tongue-fucks you like his life depends on it. In and out, in and out, the occasional swipe up and down. It’s getting messier and messier, so sloppy that there’s surely a puddle forming on the bed sheet that you’re lying on currently.

And just when you thought you had it all, his tongue gets replaced by his fingers. You tense up, an alarming thought about his claws rushing through your dazed mind, however you’re quickly relieved to find out that they’re nowhere in sight.

They’re just normal, human fingernails on normal, human fingers. Reaching deep inside you. Fuck, reaching so deep inside you. Making you see stars behind closed eyelids. Stretching you and filling you at the same time, making you nearly jump out of your skin when they curl upwards and touch that especially tender spot.

The heat that’s swirling in your tummy worsens as a result — if that is even humanly possible. You feel it rising, feel your face scrunching up, feel your teeth gritting, feel your hips picking up pace, feel your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair again, tugging way more harshly than you otherwise would as your climax starts to approach fast.

“Gonna- I’m gonna-...!”

“Nuh-uh,” he says all of a sudden, turning his pace to something painfully laggard, to something that isn’t nearly as quick and fulfilling enough to make you cum. “You’re not gonna… Not yet, at least.”

It hurts, it physically hurts; that unsatisfied feeling that resides in the place where your pleasure should be by now. Especially when he purses his lips and allows a glob of spit to land directly onto your pussy, turning you practically slippery between your legs.

He pushes the spit in with the help of his fingers.

“Wha-?” Your eyes grow big as saucers, stinging with upcoming tears at his denial. He’s gotten you so worked up that you just can’t help but behave like a spoiled pillow princess now. Like a proper crybaby.

“What, hm? You gonna cry?” He sneers — surprisingly meanly — at the lost look that appears on your face now. Wiping his mouth against your thigh, he kisses it before he says, “Relax, you’re gonna cum… I just want your bunny cunt squeezin’ around my dick, not my fingers.”

“Then lemme sit on it…! C’mon, lemme ride you or something,” you cry out, voice cracking with urgency and desperation that even you, yourself, don’t recognize. 

You push up from the bed with the help of your elbows so that you can clamber on top of him and ride him like the best cowgirl to ever live under the fucking sun, but all he does is press his hand into the middle of your chest and shoves you right back down onto the mattress.

For fuck’s sake, was this how he felt back when he’d begged you to help him find relief during his rut? Your body feels like it’ll drop dead any second now if you don’t get dicked down soon.

“No, you’ll hurt yourself if you do that ‘cause you ain’t stretched out enough yet. Besides, I’ve got a different idea anyway,” he says, reaching for the back of his T-shirt’s collar so that he can tug it off. “Turn onto your side.”

You stare at the rippling muscle, as well as at all the tattoos that run up his left arm to his shoulder. His hair is messy and his eyes almost glow in the dark. He’s buff, hairy, with sharp teeth and equally as keen-edged facial features. 

In that exact moment, he looks like the embodiment of animalistic hunger. Either that, or it’s just straight up carnage if it were a person.

“Are you going to mount me?” you ask, guts squeezing with anticipation at the mere thought of it. “Like you did back in the woods? ‘Cause I really… enjoyed that last time.”

His brows rise, short-lived surprise crossing his face before he chuckles. “Hah… Later, okay? Gonna fuck you sideways first and stretch you out a lil’ so my cock can fit.”

While Kiba tugs down his underwear, you busy yourself with doing as you’re told. You lie onto your side, clenching and rubbing your thighs together with lewd suspense and bated breath. By the time he spoons you, finally completely naked himself, you’re already bending your legs at the knee, pushing your ass out for him.

“Somebody needs it bad, huh?” he taunts as he pulls you closer to his chest. 

You’re in the same exact position as you were before all of this had started, the only difference is that you’re both naked now.

And, well, you’ve also got his cock sliding up and down your sticky pussy now. Got it smearing pre-cum and arousal and spit together, making you both groan out quiet noises of pleasure whenever the fat cockhead catches against your entrance, which feels like it’s fucking throbbing at this point.

He did something to you, didn’t he? He stuck his tongue fully inside your cunt for the first time instead of only licking and prodding it, and all of a sudden you’re forced to behave like a cat in heat.

“Kiba,” you whisper, breathing so fast that it’s almost frantic. You’re clawing at the sheets and rubbing your cheek against the pillow as you say, “Put it in... Fuck… Mmph, for the love of god, just put it in already…! I need your dick inside me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m trying,” he mumbles, frustration making him bite the inside of his cheek. “But I gotta go slowly first so that I don’t rip ya to shreds, bunny... And you beggin’ me for it is not helping ‘cause it’s only making me want to do just that.”

“I don’t care about any of that, just… just put the tip in at least,” you mewl out between words, wiggling your hips, curling your toes. Turning your head to the side to look at him, you instead kiss him with the same forceful shove forward the second your eyes land on him. “Just the tip, yeah? Okay? Like we did it back in the tent.”

He stares at you, jaw clenched and teeth grinding together from how intensely he’s trying to keep himself in-check while also having to do the same exact thing for you as well now. He can smell your need, the sweat that coats your skin, the arousal. Can hear the heavy beating of your heart.

You’re both going to devour each other if one of you doesn’t have some self-control. So Kiba tries to be the one to have it, taking another long moment to grind against you before he finally lets his gaze slip from your nearly bewildered expression, and rather focuses it on guiding his cock straight into your cunt.

You arch against him when his cockhead spreads your folds apart and slowly makes its way inside. Jaw relaxing at the sensation of finally having something to ease all that painful throbbing that’s going on, you gasp for air almost in relief despite the pesky feeling of your pussy squeezing around the girth of his dick.

It’s already demanding more.

“Fuck, bunny,” he grunts, thrusting slowly, easing himself in. “What’s wrong with you…? You’re suckin’ me right in… Shit… Makin’ it real hard f’me to not push in all the way.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, just-... j-just keep going,” you whimper out, face turning hot when you feel slick dribbling down his length. He’s so big, perhaps even too big, but your cunt just keeps on taking more and more. It never seems to be enough.

Minutes pass and you’re gradually losing your sense of self right along with them. All you care about is having him inside you. So you fuck the tip first, then half of his cock, and afterwards — fucking finally — you start taking the whole thing.

And it feels good, relieving almost. He’s got his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling and drooling over the spot where your scent is the strongest as he holds your leg up for you and just slowly pounds away. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Meanwhile, you’re drooling all over the pillow as well, blindly reaching behind you to stroke his hair with twitching fingertips as your hips help him in meeting yours over and over again. Every time his fingers dig into the soft spot that’s underneath your knee, it makes you tighten up.

His cock twitches inside you when he buries it in to the hilt, really allowing himself to sink balls deep and making you do that cute little wince that wants to make him go batshit crazy. But instead of doing that, he steadies himself. Reels it back in. Tries to listen to your quick-paced heartbeat and even quicker breaths, despite that he’s paying attention to other things.

Because even if the sounds of skin slapping against skin aren’t that loud from how slowly he’s pushing into you, that doesn’t mean that they aren’t present. He can still hear them all. As well as the occasional gushy little noises that your pussy makes.

They make his balls tighten.

You don’t know how long you do this entire thing, but you orgasm three, three fucking times during it. To some it may be like a dream come true, however to you it’s exhausting. The overstimulation is wiping you out, and yet you keep pushing, keep asking for more, keep turning around to kiss him and whine out little pleas of ‘don’t stop, please don’t stop’.

The stretch stings, as does the spot on your neck where he sank his fangs earlier, but you welcome the overwhelming sensations with open arms. In fact, you’re so feral that you feel like you won’t survive the night if he doesn’t fuck and bite and squeeze this craving for pleasure out of you.

He does a pretty good job with it, though. With how wet you are, it’s fairly easy for Kiba to turn rougher; to turn more bestial and wild and relentless with every push and shove of his hips that he drills into yours. He even uses the vibe he’s had to listen to you pleasure yourself with over the phone these last couple of weeks, in order to help you with your little problem.

But you’re not just wet, you’re also insatiable — yes, that’s what you are! Constantly making noise and clawing at him like a little slut, looking at him with tearful eyes as the fever keeps on kicking you into the goddamn ground. So it’s only when he mounts you, aiming to fuck you like an animal, that you start feeling any sort of satisfaction that actually manages to stick. 

He uses his weight to roll you onto your tummy, and pins you down by placing you in a headlock that has you gasping for air, but also has you cumming on the spot again. You’re pretty sure that it’s the sheer, utter strength and the size difference between your head and his arm that has you behaving this way now instead of the daze, but who knows?

“Already? Christ,” he pants out, his hot exhales tickling your naked shoulder. His entire body is slick with sweat — you’re pretty sure you saw it dripping down his temples earlier. It’s no wonder that the last couple of kisses you’ve exchanged tasted salty. “Who would’ve thought that a good girl like you likes to be fucked this nasty, huh?”

Your lips try to part so that you can answer his jab with one of your own, however your face is squished against his tattooed bicep, rendering that task nearly impossible. Besides that, he’s growling into your ear, crushing you with his weight, getting bigger and bigger, until he’s throbbing inside your cunt, making your voice useless either way.

“My lil’ mate,” he continues, seemingly in a daze himself. He’s whipped at this point, completely pussy drunk. “You are, right? Mine?”

You still can’t say anything other than choked up gibberish from how firmly he’s holding you, however you do make an effort to nod.

But it’s not like he waits for you to actually answer. No, all he does is start picking up speed; starts pounding away for real, eventually making you feel like he’s in your fucking guts each time he draws back and slams right back in.

“Nngh… I’m close, real fuckin’ close... Gimme one more and then I’m… I’m knotting ya, okay, sweetheart? Yeah?” he rasps between quick breaths, voice so hoarse and hot that it ignites a fire straight up inside your soul. “Jus’ one more and then we’re makin’ pups, ‘kay?”

That last sentence alone is enough to get you reaching your finish real fucking fast. Your eyes roll back, your ass pushes up so that he can reach even deeper inside you. His balls slap against your clit with every harsh, unforgiving thrust, and it’s like you’ve gone to heaven.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s got you trapped in a headlock. Besides it being the hottest thing that a guy has ever done to you in bed so far, it also ensures that you stay nice and quiet. 

So it only takes you a minute or two to become undone underneath him because of all that’s happening. And the second you tighten around him — the strongest you’ve ever squeezed him tonight — his thrusting turns irregular and almost kind of jerky, picking up in speed more and more until he eventually reaches his climax and comes to a full stop.

Kiba grits his too-big teeth when he cums, spilling every last drop of his warm release inside you and closing his eyes during it. Every muscle in his body hurts from how overly tense he’d forced them to be whilst trying not to go too far since you’re so fragile. But as he wills himself to finally loosen up a little bit, he realizes that that hurts even more. The groan he lets out as a result can barely be registered as human.

But it’s not over just yet. You feel the now familiar, but equally as strange, sensation as his knot begins to swell inside you. The stretch builds up while it fills more and more space, pressing against your tender walls and causing your pussy to protest as it tries to accommodate all of him.

You’re stuck together once again, panting, sweating, trying to piece yourselves back into what you once were while also feeling completely, utterly fucked out.

His breathing is still heavy as he releases the headlock to ask, “What the fuck happened just now?”

“Oh, gosh.” You let out a small, muffled groan underneath him, fussing into the pillow, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“You acted like you were in heat,” he continues, concern shining in his yellow eyes. “Went all feral on me and shit.”

“I feel like I still am,” you say, whining when you feel his knot throbbing inside you in answer. “We’re probably gonna have to go for round two.”

“Fine by me.” He muses before a breathless snicker escapes him. “I’ll fuck you until sunrise if that’s what you want, baby.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t almost die from a heart attack just now.”

He grins from ear to ear. “Pussy so good it kills.”

You roll your eyes. “I wish it did.”

“All right, that’s it. You’re getting squished as punishment.”

“No, wait-”

Ignoring your protests, Kiba succumbs to the tiredness and drops his weight upon you exactly like he’d done the first time when he’d mounted you during the summer. However, before he can kiss you and shower you in praise for doing so well yet again, a small, sudden growl resonates from deep within his chest.

His sensitive wolf hearing picks up on the sound of keys jingling from the other side of the front door, as well as the drunken giggles and wheezing.

Your roommates are back. Great timing.

Looks like you’ll have to play it quiet.

———

Dating a werewolf is easier than expected, when said werewolf is also your best friend.

But even after being in a relationship with him for almost five years now — the last two of those spent living in an adorable little apartment together — you still can’t help but be fazed by how rough he ends up looking after every transformation.

Kiba’s shirt is torn in some places when he comes home the morning after he’d ventured out into the woods to cross off yet another full moon off his calendar. Besides the shirt, you also notice that his shoes are muddy and that his jeans are covered in dirt. Oh, and you’re pretty sure that there’s a twig poking out of his hair. 

All in all, he looks absolutely dead-beat; so exhausted that he can’t even give you a proper smile as he kicks his sneakers off and drags his feet across the kitchen floor. When he finally plops down onto the chair he favours, it’s accompanied by a sigh.

You stand up from your own seat so that you can walk over and give him a kiss on the forehead. When you do, you catch a whiff of his scent. He smells earthy; like rich soil and wet moss. Like a rainy forest.

“Hungry?” you mumble against his tan skin, combing your fingers through his hair to get rid of the twig that’s definitely stuck in there. After a bit of effort, you succeed in pulling it out and make sure to toss it in the trash as you head for the fridge.

“Starvin’,” he answers behind you, his voice completely worn out. “My stomach hurts like a motherfucker from how empty it is.”

“Well, that’s your own fault, now isn’t it? If you’d transformed here like you did last time, I would’ve made sure you were fed throughout the night,” you chide, rummaging through the fridge to pick up the carton of eggs you’d bought the day before. “I even took a day off work because of it, and yet you still decided to go out there into the woods.”

“I gotta keep that dawg in me somehow, don’t I?” he says, laughing like a kid.

“You can keep that dawg in you while you’re lying on a warm couch instead of the cold, wet ground,” you reply, grabbing the eggs. “Bacon?”

“Yes, please,” he says, propping his cheek against one hand.

With his eyes back to their normal brown, Kiba watches you move across the kitchen that you’d built together over the course of an entire week after moving in. He’d boasted that he was entirely capable of doing it himself and had cancelled on the assembly guys without even as much as offering you the chance to argue back. 

Nowadays, whenever he gets another similarly dumb idea, you use the kitchen as a firm example of the consequences that it may bring.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that you were trying to domesticate me,” he muses, feeling his stomach clench at the smell of food that’s beginning to sizzle on the pan now. “Or you just want to sit on my face when I’m in my monster form again. That’s also an option.”

God, he’s so hungry that it hurts.

“You’re lucky I don’t put you up for adoption just for saying that,” you say, tossing the egg shells away. With how fast embarrassment swoops in, twisting your expression into a flustered one, you’re happy that you’ve got your back turned towards him.

“What? You gonna tell me you didn't enjoy the stuff we did last month?” he asks, smirking at the memory. “‘Cause I seem to recall someone whining like a lil’ bitch in heat from only a couple flicks of tongue.”

He’s not wrong. Ever since he’d finally allowed you to see him in his other form a couple years ago, you’d been excited to experiment a little after the initial shock had worn off. So far, there’s been a lot of licking, plenty of dry humping and zero penetration whatsoever; if you exclude that one time when you tried to take him into your mouth but had ended up slobbering all over his dick instead.

He’s simply too big, and you’ve learned to accept it by now. Rubbing your pussy over the enormous length of his werewolf cock is all you can do, but it’s still satisfying either way. Especially when he cums because of how turned you are at the sight of him even when he’s fucking huge and equipped with sharp claws and teeth that could kill just as easily as they could protect. During those times, his release ends up covering your entire tummy and makes a mess out of his fur.

Nevertheless, Kiba feels so lucky that you’re willing to accept all of him. Feels like the luckiest man — or should he rather say wolf — to ever walk the face of the planet. It’s easier when he’s got a partner to lean on.

“Hey. Language,” you say, your voice stern.

“Sorry.” He lets out a soft little hum in apology that’s meant to appease you further. “I’ll stay home next month, okay? I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, definitely wishing he did.

“I want to,” he says back.

When you go to place the plate before him, he pulls you down so that you can sit on his lap instead. After a little bit of squirming and whining about how he’s going to get your pyjama shorts dirty, you eventually settle down when he places his hand on your thigh and pats it affectionately. 

“You sure you want to stay here next month?” you mumble. Watching your bare feet dangle freely in the air now, you stroke him over the back of his head with an absent-minded look in your eyes. “I don’t want you to feel cooped up just because of me.”

“Yes, because I can’t take another month of seeing you be so worried about me,” he says sweetly, grabbing the fork that you’d placed on the table earlier.

Your expression turns blank. “Who said I was worried about you?”

He gives you a look that spells bullshit.

“…Oh fine, maybe I did worry just the tiniest bit,” you huff, pursing your lips. “But can you blame me? I mean, look at the shape you’re in whenever you come back!”

“Yeah, I look cool as fuck,” he mumbles before swallowing, already munching on the eggs. You just know he’ll wolf them down the second you get off his lap. “Like Bear Grylls.”

You blink, slowly. “Bear Grylls drank his own piss on live television.”

“I mean, if I-”

“No,” you cut in, sighing. “Whatever you were about to say just now, the answer is no.”

“Meh,” he says, taking another bite. “You’re no fun.”

You stare at his side profile, at the way his jaw works as he chews, at how the sun filters through the window that’s across the room and paints his tan skin golden. It’s not long before your hand is reaching out towards him, cupping his cheek so that you can press a warm kiss on his temple.

“Sucks to be you then, I guess,” you say, smiling cheekily. “Since you’re stuck with a lame mate and all that.”

“Nah, you’re cool as a mate,” he says, angling his head more into your touch on pure instinct. “You’re just a lame best friend. Still love ya, though!”

But despite the teasing remark that he’s just thrown your way, the truth is that Kiba loves you as his best friend just as much as he loves you as his mate. 

And judging by the little box that he’s hidden in the back of his closet recently, it seems like he’s going to love you as his wife very soon, too.

[verstappen-cult]

# USING YOUR SAFEWORD

INTRODUCING THE BOYS. lando norris. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. max verstappen. alex albon. daniel ricciardo. mick schumacher.

GWEN’S MESSAGE. hi besties! this is based on this request: ‘a headcanon type blurb thing with the drivers reacting to you using your safeword?’ sorry it took me so long!

★ — LANDO NORRIS

Lando’s sitting at the foot of the bed, watching you as you try to regulate your rapid breathing. He wants nothing more than to hold you and let you know that everything is okay, but when he tried to touch you, after you whispered your safeword in between sobs, you pushed him away. Lando knows you need a little space to feel safe again, so he stands up very carefully to grab one of his shirts to give to you. His heart breaks when you avoid making eye contact, just whispering a simple ‘thank you’.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he hears your voice. “I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing that leaves your mouth, followed by: “I just – I was too in my head and I couldn’t keep going. I’m so–” Lando climbs on the bed but doesn’t move closer to you, he waits until you’re the one reaching for his hand. He spends most of the night reassuring you that he’s not mad and everything is okay.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC

Charles stops immediately, reaching for the glass of water waiting on the nightstand. Your face is flushed and there are tears in the corner of your eyes, one falls down your cheek when you make eye contact with him; when you open your mouth to speak, Charles stops you with a hand on your shoulder and a shy smile. “What have we talked about. You don’t need to apologize for anything.” It doesn’t matter how many times he says those words, you have a hard time believing them.

He knows you need to feel him closer, that’s why he lies down next to you, letting you rest your head on his chest so you can feel his heartbeat to relax. You stop crying and shaking eventually, thanks to your boyfriend taking such good care of you. Charles makes sure you feel comfortable.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI

Oscar is a bit shocked when he hears the words, not knowing exactly what to do more than stop and pull away. You’re the one reassuring him that things are okay, even if you feel a little too lost in your head. It’s only when he sees you trying to cover your body with the sheets that Oscar snaps out of it. He asks if you need anything and makes sure you feel comfortable and safe with him around. It’s cute how he doesn’t know what to do but tries to do anything just for you.

You reassure him that it has nothing to do with him, so he doesn’t need to worry or overthink anything. Oscar listens attentively to what you have to say and makes sure you know that he doesn’t care about anything more than you and your safety. You two fall asleep hugging each other.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max makes sure you’re cuddled and warm in the bed, feeling safe before sprinting out of the room to get you a cup of tea. He comes back with a frown which makes you want to cry even more, but he’s immediately climbing on the bed and wrapping his arms around your body. Feeling his warmth and affection is exactly what you need, Max also knows you need to hear him say that, “I’m here with you, okay? Nothing is going to happen.”

You really don’t know what you did to deserve such a gentle and caring person, but you’re so thankful for Max. He knows you better than you know yourself, and never judges you. Not even when you’re in the middle of it, and you blurt your safeword. No matter how many times it happens.

★ — ALEX ALBON

Alex apologises like his life depends on it, panicking to the brink of crying because, “I didn’t want to hurt you, love. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” And you need to stop for a second and reassure him that it’s okay, that he didn’t actually hurt you. But Alex just keeps rambling and waving his hands and you find it somewhat funny.

He peppers your face with gentle kisses, making you both laugh. Alex ends up helping you to change into some of his clothes and you order something greasy to eat in bed. He doesn’t leave your side the whole night, still whispering little sorrys.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO

Daniel holds you close against his chest as you try to get out of your head, his voice soothing, enough to calm you down. When you open your mouth to apologise, he beats you to it. “Do not apologise. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” You hum weakly and just let him hold you for as long as you need.

But he also thanks you for being honest which makes you feel a little better after ruining the night. You don’t say that out loud because you know what he is going to say, and you really don’t want things to get awkward. Daniel massages your arms and back, with some kisses in between, helping you relax and release the tension.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER

Mick holds your face and wipes your tears, a frown adorning his handsome features because you don’t stop apologising and, “It’s all good, sweetheart. You did so good, I’m proud of you.” You stop rambling and crying eventually, and it’s then that Mick leaves you on the bed to go prepare you a hot bath.

He picks you up very carefully and helps you get in the bathtub filled with your favorite bathbomb and perfumes. Mick doesn’t pressure you at any moment and just stays there, helping you bathe.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[nonranghaes]

"do you want to kiss me?"

hyunjin's voice is soft now, and his face is inches away from your own. the stars are twinkling overhead, and, with your back against the wall, you can feel the music thumping from inside the house. no one can see either of you now, standing secluded in the shadows. you can't smell alcohol on him at all, and you... well, you're the designated driver tonight for your little circle of friends. something about that put you more at ease: this wasn't a drunk conquest, a mistake he'll roll back when you're in your art class tomorrow morning. he isn't even touching you, but that only makes the fact that your heart is racing worse.

you nod, voice caught in your throat. "i've never actually..." the confession dies on your lips. is he going to think you're weird? that you're both in your twenties, and you haven't even taken the baby step that most teenagers boast about? it's something that haunts you the older you get.

his gaze flickers down to your lips for a split second, and he reaches up. yet before he can touch your face, to guide you however he needs to, he stops. "can i...?"

another nod. hyunjin's fingers graze your jaw, lifting your face ever-so-slightly so that he can close the distance between the two of you. his lips are soft against your own, gentle as can be as he kisses you for the first time. your nose bumps against his own, teeth clashing when you turn your head, and he draws back enough to meet your gaze. for a moment, neither of you says anything... and then you laugh.

"god, i'm bad at this."

he smiles at you this timid smile that warms your heart. "you are," he chuckles. "but it's okay." one of his hands finds your own. "it just takes practice."

"with you?" you're hopeful that this wasn't for nothing. maybe it's wrong to pin so much hope onto something as silly as a first kiss, but you always held back because you didn't want it to mean nothing. you wanted it to be with someone you actually trusted. someone you liked, even if it wasn't forever.

his hand squeezes yours gently. "after i buy you dinner. is that okay?"

it's more than okay. you nod, and interlace your fingers with his. "it's a date."

[herstoryheaven]

Lando Norris x Reader: Driven By A Promise

Prompt: You make a promise with Lando, if he wins the Zandvoort Grand Prix you’ll go on a date with him.

Reader: Female

Word count: 2643

Average reading time: 9 min 35 sec

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The roar of the engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the festive atmosphere of Zandvoort filled the air. It was race day, and the stakes had never been higher for Lando Norris. The young driver stood by his McLaren, helmet in hand, glancing over the bustling pit lane with a determined look in his eyes. But today, his focus wasn’t just on the race, it was on something or rather someone else entirely.

That someone was you, Y/n. Over the past few weeks, Lando had made it no secret that he was into you. His flirty remarks, cheeky smiles, and lingering glances were all aimed your way. You had played along, keeping him on his toes, but deep down, you were starting to feel the effect of his undeniable charm.

“Y/n.” Lando’s voice drew you from your thoughts, smooth as the rumble of his car’s engine. He walked up to you, that boyish grin tugging at his lips, the one you were getting far too accustomed to. His eyes, usually so focused on the track, now held yours with an intensity that made your heart race more than any Formula 1 car could. "How about you finally let me take you out?" He asked, his tone teasing yet laced with sincerity. "You know I’ve been asking nicely for a while now."

You rolled your eyes, feigning nonchalance, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Lando, you know the deal.” you replied, the words almost playful but with a hint of challenge. “You win this Grand Prix, and I’ll let you take me wherever you want.”

His eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and mischief, the green flecks in them shimmering like the track under the sunlight. “Anywhere?” he asked, stepping just a little closer, his hand brushing against yours ever so slightly, a touch so brief yet so planned it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Anywhere.” you confirmed, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your composure, giving him a look that dared him to take you up on the challenge. “But only if you win.”

Lando’s grin widened, his expression softening as he leaned in, closing the gap between you until the scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering traces of fuel and rubber. He reached out, his fingers lightly grazing the back of your hand, tracing an invisible line that left your skin tingling. “Well then.” he murmured, his voice dropping to a tone so low it was almost a whisper, his breath warm against your ear, “I guess I’ll just have to win, won’t I?”

You felt your breath hitch as his words hung in the air, charged with promise and anticipation. His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, a touch so intimate yet tender that it felt like a silent vow, a promise of more to come. 

And then, in a gesture so simple yet so filled with meaning, Lando lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, his lips lingering against your skin just a moment longer than necessary. When he finally pulled away, his eyes found yours again, filled with a confidence that made your pulse quicken.

“Wish me luck, Y/n.” he said, his voice playful again, but the intensity in his gaze told you that this race, this moment, meant more than just a possible victory on the track.

As he turned to leave, helmet in hand, you couldn’t help but watch him go, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the upcoming race.

-----

The race started with Lando on pole position, and as the lights went out, the chaos of the Grand Prix began. Your heart raced as you watched from the paddock, your eyes glued to the screen. The roar of the engines, the squeal of tires, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, it all melded into a symphony of speed and skill that held you captive. Almost immediately, Max Verstappen surged ahead, taking first place and leaving Lando not far behind him.

But Lando wasn’t one to give up so easily. With a determination that left you breathless, he pursued Max, lap after lap, his McLaren a blur of orange streaking across the track. Every turn, every maneuver was executed with a precision that bordered on artistry. You could feel the determination through the whole paddock, as he fought not just for the win, but for something far more personal.

By lap 18, he reclaimed the lead. It was a moment of triumph so intense, it sent a thrill down your spine. Your heart leapt as you saw him take the lead, the car responding to his every command, moving with a grace and aggression that left no doubt, Lando Norris was in control. Once he had the lead, there was no looking back. He widened the gap, pushing his car to its absolute limits, knowing full well what was on the line, what promise lingered on the edge of victory.

As the race reached its final lap, the tension was noticeable. The checkered flag waved, and in a moment that felt almost surreal, Lando crossed the finish line with a significant margin of over 20 seconds, victorious. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices rising in a symphony of celebration. But amidst all the noise, your own emotions drowned out the world around you. Your heart soared with pride and excitement, not just because he’d won his second Grand Prix, but because you knew what was coming next.

And then, over the radio, despite the buzz of the pit lane and the celebration of the team, Lando’s voice cut through. But it wasn’t his usual, happy tone, this time, it was demanding, almost urgent. “Get Y/n on the radio. I want to speak to her, now.” The intensity in his voice sent a jolt through you, his need to share this moment with you clear as day.

The engineer, slightly taken aback, quickly patched you through. “Y/n, are you there?” Lando’s voice came through the static, and suddenly, the entire world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, connected by the invisible thread of his victory and the promise that had led him here.

“I’m here, Lando.” you replied, your voice shaky with emotion. You could hear the roar of the crowd in the background, but it all seemed distant compared to the closeness of his voice in your ear.

“I did it.” he said, his voice breaking into a breathless laugh, half disbelieving, half euphoric. “I won. And do you know what that means?”

A smile spread across your face, your eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy. “I do.” you whispered, feeling the warmth of his victory wrap around you like a physical embrace.

“Good.” he replied, his tone softening, becoming almost tender through the crackle of the radio. “Because as soon as I get out of this car, I’m coming for you, Y/n. And I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The weight of his words, the raw emotion in his voice, left you breathless. As the team surrounded his car, celebrating his win, you knew that this wasn’t just about the race anymore. It was about the promise you had made, the connection that had grown between you both, and the future that now lay wide open before you.

The moment he climbed out of the car, victorious, sweat-drenched but utterly triumphant, his eyes immediately sought you out in the crowd. And when he found you, standing there with your heart in your throat and your emotions worn openly on your face, he smiled, a smile that held all the promises of the night ahead.

-----

Lando didn’t waste any time. After the podium celebrations, where he couldn’t stop grinning, he quickly showered and changed into a crisp white button-down and black trousers that fit him perfectly. The way the fabric clung to his frame, still slightly damp from the shower, gave him an effortlessly handsome look that made your heart skip a beat.

Meanwhile, you slipped into the short orange dress you’d brought with you just in case Lando actually pulled off the win. The color was a reference to his McLaren, a playful homage to the vibrant energy of the race. The way it hugged your curves made you feel confident and beautiful, each glance in the mirror reminding you that tonight was going to be unforgettable. You knew Lando would appreciate the effort, but when you finally walked out to meet him, the look on his face made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

Lando’s eyes widened, his breath catching as he took you in. His admiration was evident, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. “Wow, Y/n, you look… incredible.” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine awe as his gaze lingered on you, drinking in every detail.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” you replied, your voice soft, your smile widening as you took in the sight of him, so dashing, so charming. It was a side of him you didn’t see to often, and it made your heart flutter.

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. Offering you his arm like a true gentleman, he asked, “Ready for our date?” His tone was playful, but his eyes held a sincerity that made the simple question feel weighted with unspoken promises.

“I am.” you replied, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm, the contact sending a spark of electricity through you. The warmth of his body so close to yours made the world around you fade, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of anticipation. “So, where are we going?”

Lando’s smile turned secretive, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “It’s a surprise.” he said, his voice a low murmur that made your pulse quicken. “But trust me, I think you’ll love it.”

He had planned everything in advance, confident not only in his victory on the track but in winning your heart as well. He led you to a secluded, charming restaurant overlooking the beach, where the waves gently lapped against the shore under the golden glow of the setting sun. The scene before you was breathtaking, the table was set for two, with candlelight flickering softly, casting a warm, intimate glow over everything. The entire evening felt like something out of a dream, carefully crafted to sweep you off your feet.

“This is perfect.” you whispered, your voice filled with awe as you looked around, touched by the thoughtfulness he’d put into the evening. It was more than you had expected, more than anyone had ever done for you.

Lando smiled, his gaze tender as he pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he took his place besides you. “Only the best for you, love.” he said softly, his hand immediately reaching over the table to take yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, the connection between you clear as day, his touch gentle yet firm. “I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his words, your cheeks flushing with warmth. “And I’m glad you did.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This… this is really special, Lando.”

His smile deepened, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re special, Y/n. And I’m going to spend every day making sure you know that.”

The evening unfolded like a beautiful, slow dance. As you talked and laughed, sharing stories and dreams, the chemistry between you grew, an undeniable force that pulled you closer with every passing moment. Lando was attentive, his gaze never straying far from yours, his hand never letting go of yours for long. He was a perfect mix of charm and respect, his every word, every glance making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

As the night wore on, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. Lando’s hand slipped from yours, tracing a slow, steady path along your arm, his touch sending a thrill through you. When he reached under the table, his fingers lightly brushing against your leg, the sensation was electric. His hand lingered there, resting on your thigh, his touch warm, possessive, yet tender.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Y/n," he began, his voice a soft whisper, "I don't think you realize just how much you mean to me. Every time I see you, it's like everything else fades away, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to have you in my life."

His words were raw, filled with a sincerity that made your breath catch. "You're not just beautiful," he continued, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're the person I look for in every room, the one who makes everything feel right even when it's all falling apart."

Lando's voice trembled slightly, the vulnerability in his tone tugging at your heart. "I’ve been wanting to tell you this for so long… You’re everything to me, Y/n. My best friend, my anchor, and… the person I can’t stop thinking about."

He paused, his lips brushing against your cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. "I don’t know where this is all going," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, "but I know that I don’t want to face it without you. I need you by my side, now and always." His words hung in the air, filled with a quiet desperation that left you breathless, your skin tingling where his lips had touched, as if the world had shifted and everything finally made sense.

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his, the air between you charged with a tension that had been building all night. The world around you seemed to slow, the gentle sound of the waves fading into the background as Lando’s hand tightened slightly on your thigh, his touch grounding you, pulling you into the moment.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I first got the honor of laying my eyes on you.” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, before leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft yet full of the passion that had been simmering between you. His hand on your thigh tightened, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, the kiss deepening as the night and the ocean whispered their approval.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, the moment suspended in time. “So, love.” he said, his voice still a little breathless, his eyes soft as they searched yours. “Was this date worth the wait?”

You smiled up at him, your heart full, knowing that this was only the beginning of something truly special. “It was worth every second.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press another tender kiss to your forehead. “Good.” he whispered against your skin, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. “Because I’m already planning the next one.”

As he walked you back to your hotel, the stars twinkling above, his arm around your waist, you couldn’t help but feel that you were on the verge of something extraordinary. The warmth of his hand on your side, the way he held you close as if he never wanted to let go, it was a promise of more, a future filled with moments like this.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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[mysouleaten]

DOC AND BOSS pt.one

mafia boss! izana x doctor! reader

summary ... finding an injured member of the tenjiku yakuza hiding in an alleyway beside your apartment you decide to help... not knowing he's the one in charge..

warnings ... blood, and bullets??

an ... sooo this was inspired by DEAD GIRL'S BEACH by @kokoch4n3l but this fic is a lot more fluff... lol and inspired by an undertake fic I read a long time ago Bedside Manners and Guns by @absurdmageart .... :)

tenjiku was one of the biggest yakuza's that ran tokyo they were second compared to toman

but still one of the biggest when it came to land and property and one of their properties was your apartment-- your home

most who lived in this apartment building paid their bill to tenjiku, as they were the ones who kept this building from being destroyed by the government and leading to you being homeless

you were very grateful for the fact they protected this apartment building... it was the cheapest and the closest to your job and university

around 8:45pm you finally were able to leave your job and drive back in the rainy night, ready to get in your comfort outfit and watch crime moves for the rest of the night and maybe order some yellow rice and soup to eat while you watch....

finally parked in front of your building and looking outside the window to see the harsh rain pouring down

you can only imagine how cold it is outside your warm car...

looking behind your driver's seat and reaching for your umbrella to fight back the pouring rain from soaking you

"alright.. let's just hope I don't get completely soaked through.."

quickly opening the car door and rushing to open the umbrella over you, shutting the door and pressing onto your car key to hear the 'beep!' of the car locking

blowing a breath you start to carefully walk towards the stairs that lead to your apartment, careful not to slip and bust your ass on the pavement

hearing a loud groan made you freeze in place and hearing another over the rushing rain made you tense again before you quickly walked up the stairs and ran into your apartment... you weren't risking any horror movie shenanigans..

putting your bag down onto the bench under your coat hanger

turning your head toward the door and the guilty conscience starts to eat you up

what if someone was in need of help? you're not a doctor for nothing..

you groan in annoyance and throw your white coat on the floor before taking the raincoat hanging on the coat hanger and quickly putting it on

slamming the door behind yourself and cussing out: "I hate being a damn doctor..!"

hugging your wait to fight the cold rain and carefully walking down the stairs

"hopefully it's just the fucking wind and no one is actually here so I can go take my ass upstairs and--" cutting your rant short when turning the corner and seeing someone laying on the muddy ground

drenched and shivering the person was also groaning in pain

"crap.." you whisper and slowly begin to walk toward the person still being cautious and mindful of who this person you were going to help was

crouching down, careful to not touch the muddy water below

examing the man who was shakily breathing through his mouth and scrunching his eyes shut

his white long hair was muddied up and drenched

you looked down to see him holding his abdomen--blood was soaking his uniform, he was wearing the uniform of a tenjiku leader... craaaaaap...

pulling your phone out of your pocket and covering it from the rain you dial the number but a hand quickly grabs your wrist and tries to shake the phone out of your hand "ACK!!"

quickly standing up and backing away, letting your phone drop near the man

his eyes were a beautiful shade of lavender and they were staring daggers right into your own eyes.. but they softened quickly

you swallow the built-up saliva in your mouth "you've been shot.. you need to go to the hospital" your voice a soft whisper

he shakes his head "no..." no? this man really wants a painful death?

"you-" "you..help me" the man cuts you off

"what!? wait- no! I can't! I don't have the-" your rambling gets cut off with a soft "try" from the man

were you really going to drag a muddy wet mafia man up the stairs and into your apartment?..

you sigh as the man has been staring at you for the past couple of minutes after his 'removing bullets' procedure

he was lying on his back with towels beneath him soaking up the dirty water that dripped off of him, bandages wrapped around his entire abdomen and he was facing his head toward you

he would shiver from the cold and you weren't sure if you wanted to get him a blanket.. and get it soaked.. maybe you should towel him off properly before getting him a blanket

you stood up and began to walk away from the white-haired man that occupied your other couch..

"[name]?... where are you going?.."

you froze, how the hell does he know your name?..

ughhhh i'm not sure how i like this... AHH I WISH I KNEW HOW TO WRITE MY THOUGHTS BETTER....

>:(

[1nephthys]

Okay, First, I love your writing. Second, could you please make and imagine base on grey's anatomy? Like, I'm rewatching grey's anatomy, you know when Derek loses that pregnant patient, and then he goes into exile in the forest, and when Meredith goes to the forest saying that she knows about the wedding ring and she wants it, and then he throws the ring in the woods, and afterwards he laments that he lost her. I love that scene, I need an angst similar to this for Charles, I don't know, it might be inspired by last year when he flies to Monaco and binotto had to pick him up. With fluff in the end pleaaaaaase

The ring.

Thank you so so much, also thank you for the request! It took a second and I changed it a little bit but I hope you still enjoy it!!

Part 2!!:)

Word count:~4.9k

Warning: my English and as requested - angst; little, tiny suggestion of smut.

Four years ago.

Charles' mom stood up with a smile on her face announcing that it was time for her to do the dishes. She prepared the biggest dinner she ever had done before when her son finally decided that he want to introduce his girlfriend he was talking about for so long. She had always seen those sparks in his eyes when he was bragging about her.

"Let me help you." Y/n stopped herself from adding "Mrs. Leclerc" as the older woman told her not to do it because she felt old.

She also stood up but Pascale touched her arm and said "You stay there sweetheart, you are our guest tonight" She said to the girl with warm tone "Charles will help me." She looked at her son right beside y/n and he stood up and pick up both of their plates without any protest.

Y/n got herself in conversation with his brother, Lorenzo about something while her boyfriend was washing the plates in his mom's kitchen. "And? What do you think about her, mama?" He asked quietly, afraid that his girlfriend might hear from the other room.

"I don't know. I just met her but she seems really lovely. And with the way you look at each other, I feel like I will have to like her" She answered his son and it made him so happy. He might had a few girlfriends before and he always asked his mom for her opinion about them but never once her answer was this satisfying.

"I think I'm going to give her the ring dad gave me." He told her. They were dating only for a few months so his mom was actually terrified, even though her son looked like he was really in love. The ring he was talking about was really important to Charles because his father brought it for when his boys find the right girl. He noticed every thought on his mother's face, so he added quickly "Relax. I'm not planning to propose now... But when it's the right time, I really love her mama. I just feel it's her"

His mother could just smile at his statement because she - as well - felt like this is the one for her son.

---

Back to the present.

"...and Charles Leclerc finish his home grand-prix right behind the podium, at 4th place!" Everybody could hear through the speakers. Everybody in the Ferrari garage cheered, not for Charles but for Carlos who manage to finish second in this race. Y/n on the other hand knew, that her boyfriend wanted more. She was there before race, when all he could talk about finally starting from the pole position and having the win within his reach but his team failed him.

He got out of the car, mad to the point that he didn't even want to scream and yell at anyone, just stay quiet. He didn't even go for a hug with y/n like he ALWAYS does after race. He just wanted to finish his interviews and go home.

And that was exactly what he did. He told the interviewer about his disappointment, trying to control himself with the rest of the faith he had in his team.

He took a quick shower as y/n waited in his driver' room. The drive home was quiet. Y/n didn't forget to congratulate her boyfriend but when all she got in response was quiet "thanks" and glossy eyes she knew that he didn't really want to speak now. She decided to wait 'till he was ready to talk to her.

"I'm going to take a shower again" Charles said. Both of them knew that this shower was just an excuse to spend time alone and cool down. Before he had gone to the bathroom, he checked his phone, which was on the dnd since his warm-up back before the race.

Hey mate, congrats on P4!

We have to celebrate!

There's an afterparty in *name of the club* you have to come with y/n!

He read all three messages from his best friend, Pierre and he really, really wanted to throw his phone out of the window at the first one.

"Pierre asks if we want to go to the afterparty" Charles asked y/n looking at her with his phone in his hands.

"We can, only if you want" She answered, still worried about her boyfriend mood.

"I will tell him we will be there." He said while putting his phone down and heading straight to the bathroom, before y/n had any chance to say something.

She decided it was best if she also took a quick shower in the guest bathroom of their house and started getting ready. She put on some makeup and a comfortable, yet pretty outfit and she was ready to leave. She was ready but the shower was taking Charles longer time than usual so she decided to knock gently on the door.

"Charles, sweetheart? It's already 8 p.m. Just letting you know" She said through the dark wood. What she did not expect was her lover opening the door with an angry face.

"Jesus, will you at least let me shower in peace? Or I can't do that too?" He asked her angrily, passing her on his way to the bedroom to put on some clothes and leave. She didn't even answer him because he didn't give her time for that and she wouldn't had know what to say anyways. "We can go" He told her, grabbing his keys and walking to the car, without turning around.

She let out a long breath and stopped herself from saying anything, as she knew it was already a rough day for him. Even though his cold tone hurt her a bit. She already knew that she wasn't drinking tonight because he was going to get wasted. She closed their apartment and sit in the passenger seat.

Charles got to the club pretty fast but all the drivers were already there most of them on their third drink. As always, he passed his car keys to y/n and she put them in her purse. They entered the club and Charles went straight to buy drinks.

"I'm not going to drink tonight. You feel free though. I will be with the girls." She told him. She for sure will keep an eye on him but she had mixed feelings and was afraid of him attacking her again. So, she kissed his cheek and was off towards Lily and Kika that were dancing together on the dancefloor.

She greeted both of them and she was glad that it was just like every time they were at a party because she really didn't feel like explaining that her boyfriend was mad at her for a bad race result.

It was already some time at the party and Y/n's mood was actually better now, she had a great time with the girls. Charles also seemed like he was having fun, he definitely did not want to save any money on drinks.

It was around 1 a.m. that y/n noticed that he was leaving the club so she quickly grabbed her purse and said her goodbyes to go after him.

"Charles! Charles!" She yelled after him as he was walking in the opposite direction of their house and totally ignored her. "Charles, wait! I can't catch up!" She yelled which made him stop in his track.

"Maybe I want you to not catch up, huh? I just want you all to leave me fucking alone! Today was shit and I don't really need more of your shit on top of it!" He yelled back.

"Charles, you are drunk, let me take you home, and then you can be alone all you want. Please, c'mon." She said quietly. She was actually glad that he tried to run away from her because at least they were far enough from the club that people outside can't hear them over loud music. Now he might not care about it but he would when he sober up and read headlines and messages from his PR management.

"No. I'm not going with you anywhere. You can go back to having fun with the girls" He said with a mocking tone. He never seemed to mind her dancing with others when they were at the party together so she was surprised at this. "At least you will leave fucking alone. You know what all of this go fucking nowhere. I thought you would be there for me but I feel like I can't count on you, too" He said.

Oh.

"Charles, you can always count on me, I'm here whenever you want to talk to me. I thought that wasn't what you want. And I'm so, so sorry for misunderstanding you. Please, let's go home and talk." She tried again. She actually felt like shit but there wasn't much she could do now, when he was this drunk.

"No. I'm not going anywhere with you." He said and reached into his pocket taking out a beautiful ring, the one his dad gave him. "You know what, I was so fucking sure you were the one to get it..." She knew it, she knew it for years, she just waited. "But fuck this stupid ring, because I can't imagine someone else wearing it and for sure not you now." He finished his sentence by throwing the ring in whatever direction.

Both of their eyes were on it for a second but they both lost it before it hit the ground. She stood there. Stunned by his words and stunned by him throwing the ring that was so important to him.

"Go away." He added, as if what he just did and said wasn't enough. She didn't know what to say or do. So she did actually turn around and started walking in the opposite direction, to their shared apartment, holding her tears for dear life.

The walk home took her longer than usual, on her way she was repeating everything in her head. When she looked through her small purse she noticed his car keys which suddenly made her feel guilty, she just hoped that someone would help Charles get home safe, even after he hurt her.

What she didn't know, was that Pierre was already there. He also was bloody worried about Charles, so he get out of the club not far behind her. When he noticed she started walking in her direction and Charles in totally opposite, right after he threw away the ring he told him so much about, he knew he needed to run after his best friend. He had a few drinks too, but he definitely felt better now.

"Charles!" He yelled. And this time, Charles actually stopped and break out in tears.

"I lost her mate, I'm so fucking stupid" He put his palms on his eyes, to stop the tears from running down his face but there was no use in it. "And I lost it too!"

"Charles, you know she won't give up that easily. And you still have a chance in the championship. You did not lose it yet." Pierre tried to cheer up his friend, he put his hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not talking about championship, mate. The ring. Why did I even do it? I will never fucking find it, I was just so angry and-" His cries were getting worst and worst so Pierre decided to call for a taxi before somebody take a picture that would be all over internet by tomorrow morning.

'Charles Leclerc crying outside the club! There's no more alcohol for him!'

'Charles Leclerc lost the chance for the championship and his long-term girlfriend in one day! That man must had f**k up in his previous life'

Yeah, that was not something he should be dealing with in one week.

He texted Kika too, explained the whole situation, and told her she could stay and he would ask Alex and Lily to get her home later but she said she want to go home too.

All three of them get into a taxi, Charles still sobbing, now also telling the couple about all his happy moments with his love. "I told her I can't count on her. While all I fucking did this whole day was throw mean comments at her. Or comment. I didn't talk to her the whole day. And she still tried to get me home. Because she was worried about me. I'm the worst boyfriend ever. Now probably ex-boyfriend actually. I lost the girl of my dreams mate, I waited so long to ask her to marry me and now I fuck all of this up. Four years mate, four years. And I never once regretted any second of it. But now she probably thinks I am." The car stopped. "I will never forgive myself, so how can she forgive me?"

"We are here." The taxi driver said.

Pierre and Kika thanked the heavens for that, because the drive never felt this long. Pierre paid the driver, with an apologizing, small smile hoping that the old man will not told the media about what just happened in his car.

Both he and Kika get him to the lift and then to their apartment and laid him on the bed in their guest bedroom.

"No, mate. I have to go to y/n. I have to apologize. And I have to find her ring before someone else does it." Charles argue but he gave up quickly when Pierre hold his shoulders down with Kika and that was enough for Charles to not be able to stand up.

"You will do that tomorrow, mate. It will be better if you catch some sleep now." Pierre said but Charles already had his eyes closed. He looked at Kika with understanding eyes and she returned the look. They both quietly exited the room to get to sleep themselves.

---

First thing Charles felt the next morning was his head. The pain was terrible, but as he looked around and noticed he isn't in his bedroom with his sweet girlfriend, he remembered the events of last night, and suddenly the headache wasn't so bad.

He want to the kitchen, where Pierre was already standing looking for something in the fridge. He turned around when he heard footsteps.

"Charles." He looked at his best friend. He didn't look any better than last night. His eyes were red and puffy his shirt was stained, probably with alcohol. "You should take a shower."

"Did you hear from y/n?" He asked straight away. He might be hella drunk, but he wasn't the type to forget the whole night because of it.

"Go take a shower first. We will eat breakfast and I will drive you home." Pierre told his best friend. He actually did hear from y/n last night, way later than both of them left the club she texted him, asking if he knew if Charles was okay. The next thing she asked after she was told that Charles was with her was not to tell him that she asked. And Pierre was actually on her side in this.

Charles had enough of arguments, so he did as his best friend said and closed himself behind the door. He noticed a clean set of clothes on the counter and he knew it was meant for him to borrow.

After his quick shower, he put on Pierre's shirt and pants and left the bathroom to join his best friend and Kika at the table. He sat at the chair that had a plate ready in front and he noticed the small piece of metal right next to it.

His eyes instantly became teary as he grabbed it with his right hand. "But- how?" that was all he managed to get out of his mouth as he lifted his gaze from the ring to his best friend's face.

"Yesterday after we left I told some guys about the ring. We left and they were looking for it. Carlos bring it earlier this morning. He said it took them over an hour to find it but at least it is here." Pierre explained.

He couldn't even explain in words how grateful he was for his friends, he made a mental note to thank his teammate and friend for it.

"I- I don't know what to say. Thank you, Pierre. Thank you, guys." He looked at Kika, too. "It would be even worst without you"

"I accept thanks in the form of wedding invitations." Pierre commented which got him a kick under the table from Kika. Was it too soon for that kind of joke? "Sorry, but you really have to apologize to her, mate. What you did yesterday was shitty."

"Okay, less talking, more eating. The faster you eat, the faster you will get to explain yourself." Kika reminded both of them. That left them without any comment as they both looked at each other, Pierre with a little smirk while Charles - still not in the mood for jokes.

"I think I will take a taxi" Charles said after they ate. Pierre just nodded his head, as much as he wanted to hear his best friend and his other half makeup, he knew that it should be done just between them.

Charles grabbed the ring, put it in his pocket, and left the apartment when he read the text that the taxi was already there. He felt like the drive took hours, when in fact it was only ten minutes. But it was enough time to overthink what was waiting for him at home. He even considered that all of his things were already packed and waiting for him at the door.

He, finally, got out of the car and made his way towards the lift to get to their apartment. He didn't even have his keys so he really hoped she would open the door for him.

It took him one knock at the piece of wood and only a few seconds for her to open it. As if she was already waiting for him.

"Charles." She said quietly, trying to control her voice so bad so it won't break, like she had any chance fighting the tears in her eyes.

"Y/n," He said, not doing any better. He considered so many options what would happen when he get there, yet he had no idea what to say now, that she actually opened the door. "Can I come in?" He asked her, realizing they still standing in the hall.

"It's your house as well" She answered and moved a little aside.

They both walked to the living room and Charles looked around. Their pictures together were still all around. Not a single one was moved. As if nothing had happened, as if he didn't throw away her propose ring right in front of her before she even get it.

"Y/n I- I don't know what I was thinking. I want to say sorry to you, but that's not enough for what I did. Never ever did I want you to leave me alone, I was frustrated by the race and the team but I had no rights to take it out on you. I'm sorry for blaming you for not being there when actually I'm the one that can't communicate. I know I can count on you and you can count on me, I will spend my whole lifetime proofing that to you if it is what it takes for you to forgive me." They both had tears streaming down their faces but that didn't matter now as Charles grabbed both Y/n's hands and squeezed them to tell her that what he was saying was meant from deep of his heart. "I'm not sure if you can do that but if you are, please take all the time that you need. I just really need you to know that I would go with you anywhere, just tell me where and I promise you I will be right by your side."

"Charles, I can't tell you that I'm alright- that we're alright because I am hurt" She said which had him in another wave of tears "But I will not throw away all those years together. But I really need time."

"Cherie, please take as much time as you need, just never leave me, please." Charles begged her but she didn't trust her voice enough this time, so all she did was pull him close for a hug.

So Charles was willing to give her time. As much as she needed. Even when the ring in his pocket were more and more heavy.

---

One year later, Monaco Grand-Prix.

"And finally, after many years Charles Leclerc finish his home grand-prix first! Ladies and gentlemen, Charles Leclerc is the winner of this year's Monaco grand-prix!" The commentator's voice could be heard anywhere.

Y/n hugged Arthur, her boyfriend's brother who was standing right beside her in euphoria. Everyone around them was screaming, throwing their hands in the air and clapping for her boyfriend. He got out of the car and run to her first like he always did. She hugged him so tight and he returned it.

"I'm so, so proud of you! You are the winner!" She screamed and his smile grew even bigger now if it was even possible. She kissed his helmet, in the place where his lips should be right before the couple was torn apart when Charles was pulled for other hugs and then interviews.

He returned to y/n as soon as he could and before he hoped to take a shower he told her "I'm glad you're here with me, I wouldn't have done it without you."

"You are an amazing driver, you are driving this car, not me." She answered. It's safe to say that their relationship had never been this good before.

"Take a shower with me?" He asked with a little smirk as he wrapped his arms around her waist, hers went around his torso in a matter of seconds.

And how she could say no when he was standing in front of her with his little smirk, fireproofs and his race suit hanging low on his hips?

She kissed his lips and they made their way to the shower and what happened there, was a whole different story.

---

Everything will be ready at 8 p.m.

You better not chicken out this time.

Charles read two messages from his best friend answering quickly.

I didn't chicken out, I just wanted it to be more special and keep it a surprise.

"Pierre asks if we want to go to the afterparty" Charles asked as he was sitting at the kitchen table, watching y/n making some food for both of them.

"We can, only if you want" She answered him, quickly returning to cutting vegetables.

"He said that this will be smaller, on a yacht so we can celebrate P1 with closest ones, not whole club" Charles explained, hoping he didn't sound susceptions.

"Yeah okay, dinner will be ready in 10, then we can start getting ready, okay?" She asked.

"Yeah. I love you." Charles said casually, with his heart-shaped eyes which sent off millions of butterflies in y/n stomach. She answered him with the same.

---

All dressed up Y/n and Charles finally get on the yacht, that seemed to be totally empty, no party in sign.

"Are we first? That unusual." Y/n commented as it usually them both to make an appearance when everybody is already drunk.

"Yeah, c'mon" Charles answered all uptight as he took a few steps and hopped on the yacht. He held his hand out for y/n to grab it and step there too.

It was already past 8 p.m. so it was quite surprising that no one was there, but what was even more surprising what that the lights were turned on. Turned her back to Charles to look if somebody was coming from port but when she didn't see anyone, she turned back around.

Only to be met with Charles on one knee.

No fucking way.

"Y/n, you've been there for me for the past five years. And for all those five years, I knew I wanted to marry you one day. I knew it damn well when I almost ruined our relationship a year ago. You took me back and I promised you to give you time. And I'm still willing to give it to you. I want to give you all the time I have. I want to give and share with you every second of my life for the rest of it. I want to be anywhere you are. I want to be able to count on you and make sure you can count on me. Y/n, my cherie, my best friend, my partner in crime, will you marry me?" He may or may not have tears in his eyes, his hands may or may not be shaking as he anxiously waited for an answer.

"Charles- I- of course, I will marry you!" She answered, fighting with the tears in her eyes. She went for a hug as well, noticing how beautiful the ring he was now putting on her finger. "It's perfect" She said, kissing his lips.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea how glad I'm you like it." Charles answered her after their kiss. It wasn't really needed because all he had to say was already in this kiss.

"Time to drink for our soon-to-be bride and groom!!!" Pierre yelled getting out of his hidden spot in the cabin. After he went Arthur, their mum, and actually too many people looking at how small this cabin was. Charles and y/n were too busy to think how all of them squeezed in here but surely five more minutes and they all would pass out due to lack of oxygen.

"Congratulations sweethearts! I knew since Charles introduced you to us that one day you were going to be Leclerc." Pascale said, as she was the first one to come to them when the music started playing.

"Congrats, mate!" Pierre hugged Charles while Kika by is side hugged y/n.

"I hope I will be your bridesmaid! I promise I will organize you the best bachelorette party ever!" Kika said to y/n which had her giggling. She just got proposed to and now she already had to think about bridesmaids!

"Hey, if she's bridesmaid I have to be best man!" Pierre answered.

"Ey, ey, not that fast amigo!" Carlos appeared out of nowhere behind Pierre, putting his hand on French driver shoulder "He said I will be best man after I found the ring last year! You didn't forget right?" Carlos asked.

"What?! You told him he can be best man? C'mon..." Two drivers started arguing over who was going to be best man at the weeding while Charles attention catch y/n voice.

"Wait, so this is actually the ring, like the one from your dad? I thought it was lost" His now fiancée asked.

"Yeah, it is. But wait, how do you know that my dad got it with me? I wanted to tell you that later tonight" Charles asked shocked, maybe he wasn't good at keeping secrets, especially not from her, but he would remember if he slipped this.

"Uhh.. that actually might be my fault." If it wasn't enough people appearing out of nowhere that night, Arthur was now standing right next to Charles with guilt in his eyes.

"What?" He asked his brother what did he mean it's his fault.

"Five years ago. You were helping mom in the kitchen after you introduced y/n to us. She was talking with Lorenzo so I decided to help too but I overheard you talking about the ring so I came back" He explained.

"Okay, but that still..." Charles tried to say that did not told him anything, but Arthur started talking again.

"Your secret was safe with me, I swear. For a whole ass year, I kept my mouth shut but then there was that party. I drunk a bit and she just-"

"Hey, don't put it on me!" Y/n laughed, as much as she liked Arthur alive, she wanted to hear really story.

"Okay, I came up to her and told her that I can't wait for her to be Leclerc and for you to give her the ring you choose with dad. I told her it was meaningful and everything. I'm sorry" Arthur got to the end of the story and looked up at his brother.

"So you telling me, I kept my mouth shut, bite my tongue like hundred times but all this time you knew about it? Unbelievable!" Charles said with a look of betrayal on his face. "And you, you little shit? You couldn't tell me sooner? Like every time I was panicking that I almost spilled the surprise?!" He asked his brother this time.

"I said I'm sorry!" Arthur argue back.

"Kids, please calm down. It's time to celebrate. My son is a double winner tonight!" Pascale said. And Charles couldn't agree more. Even though for a second he had forgotten that he actually won the race today, because now he had much more important win.

"You are right, Mrs. Leclerc! It's time to drink for them!" Max yelled, with a beer in his hand.

It definitely wasn't his first tonight.

a/n. It took me a second to write and it was also longer than I expected but I still hope you enjoy it! Especially the person who requested it because it was fun to write! I changed a few things but defo strong inspo from this grey's anatomy ep. Love you:))

[julianalvarez9]

CHANGE YOUR MIND / MASON MOUNT

SUMMARY: You never really liked Mason Mount, even before he came to your club. Turns out, he's a very persuasive man, who will do everything he can to change your mind.

PAIRING: mason mount x ten hag!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mason is a lovesick fool, use of ten hag as a plot device i'm so sorry

AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's been agesssss since i've posted something, so here's this! (something's that's been sitting in my drafts and i didn't dare finish for almost a month!). would reallyyyy love some feedback!

Your eyes go wide at the sight of him, resting calmly over the cap of his car, hands hiding inside his pockets. Mason looks straight out of a movie; one where the protagonist is waiting for his lover outside of their home. You try to not think about that, or about the warm feeling in your chest, as you angrily make your way towards him.

Once you reach him, you're ready to voice your concerns about his presence in your parents' home. "What are you doing here?".

The urgency in your voice only made the Englishman grin harder, if that was even possible.

He shrugs, clearly not preoccupied about the matter. "Came to see a friend, offer her a ride to work". You roll your eyes, annoyed, because obviously, this is Mason. This is the same insufferable guy you've got to know for months now, ever since he signed for Manchester United.

By looking at the watch on your wrist, and knowing your dad's entire routine, you know you two are running out of time.  "C'mon, Mount, you need to leave!", you urge, and he tilts his head in confusion. "What? Why?," as if his entire life, at least, sport related, wasn't threatened by the man about to walk out the door.

"Did you hit yourself on the way here? Did you happen to forget who I live with?".

He shrugs, again, claiming "I don't mind". A second after, "he actually likes me. More than you do, at least". It's not the first snarky remark he throws your way, but it's still too early for you to pretend he hasn't got a special capacity for getting under your skin.

"I'd like to see if he continues to like you when he sees you talking to his daughter in his front yard".

You're right about that.

Yeah, Mason is your dad's new shiny toy, awarding him with being a constant feature in the starting eleven in every United game, but you doubt he'd be alright with whatever he's trying to do. After all, he never liked any of your past boyfriends, or friends who he -somehow- recognized as undeserving of his little girl, his only daughter. "I think he will," Mason says confidently, "I'm actually a great son-in-law, you know?".

You swear it is too early in the morning to have rolled your eyes the number of times you have in his presence, during the past three minutes. You ask, hopeful that the sly remark works to get him off your back. "Has being this cocky actually helped you, in some way?".

When his smile falters, you grin. It's probably the first time he doesn't have something, anything, to hit back, and you consider it a win for your side. "It did," he answers truthfully a beat after, and now his smile is bigger than ever. "Look, you're smiling at me".

You try, hard, to stop your cheeks from going red, but the way you can't really hold his stare any longer is a win for him. He basks in this feeling, knowing himself to be able to make you nervous must be a good sign, right?

At least, he hopes so.

"Okay, stop fucking around or you'll be late," you warn, coming close enough to him to push him off the hood of his car, and towards the driver's door. You try to ignore the way your fingers burn after touching him, deciding not to acknowledge the warning signs that something had changed in the past few weeks. You don’t despise him nearly as much, but you’re not keen on the idea of him knowing about it. Yet.

Mason opens the door of his car, and gets in. You nervously watch back, to the entrance door, after seeing what time it is. 9:13 AM. Your father will be out the door, any second now.

You hope that, the next time you look to the street, the car will be gone, and any trace of the Englishman vanished, like a dream. But instead, when you turn again, the tinted window of his car is down, and he's looking mischievously at you. "Already caring for me? that's new, Ten Hag".

"Go away, Mount".

Hearing the door open, just a few seconds after seeing Mason's car disappear from your street, makes your blood turn cold. The piercing question from your father doesn't make things better. "What are you doing over there?". There’s nothing you could possibly say that will convince your father, and saying the truth isn’t a possibility right now; so, instead, you defuse the question. "Nothing, nothing. Are you ready to leave now?".

The way to Trafford Training Centre is quiet. Your father isn't one to talk much normally, but the silence squishes you until you feel like you're holding your breath. He knows, you're sure, and you’re gonna make Mason pay for it. 

That’s it, if you reach the training ground alive.

"You know, I think Mason is a good kid".

The affirmation is nowhere what you had expected your father to say, so you can’t hide the furrowed brows and defensive tone that comes along with it. "We're in first name base already? Wow, that's new".

The car stops in the red light, and your dad takes the time to turn his head in your direction. He sees your fixed gaze ahead, brows still furrowed, and his head tilts in confusion. "And he's trying really hard to get in your good graces".

"That's not true".

A beat.

"I saw him this morning".

After that, you're left waiting; either, for the disapproving voice in his tone, the yelling, or the pointing out reasons why you shouldn’t be this close to a player, much less someone like him. But instead, he’s silent. And somehow, the silence is scarier.

The air feels thick, and it’s scarily similar to how it feels when a storm is brewing. Hot, too heavy, and like the entire sky is about to fall apart. And a few minutes after, with the car finally parked, and the training center standing tall just a few meters ahead, Erik begins to talk.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Whatever it is”. In other circumstances, you’d laugh at the way he signaled with his hand when saying it, almost like dismissing the entire ordeal, as if he still, so many years after introducing other boyfriends in the past few years -not one that’s worth mentioning, though-, refused to acknowledge that his little girl is not so little anymore.

“I know I always said it’s not a good idea. And I still don’t think it is,” he remarks, but holds a finger up before you can’t argue against what he’s saying, “but, as I said, he’s a good kid. And, most importantly, he’s aware that if he breaks your heart, he won’t play anymore, so-”.

The horror in your eyes must be evident, because he starts laughing before you can tell him off because of his antics. “Dad!”.

“So, you can go out with him. Just don't break his heart, yeah?” You can’t even respond because he gets off the car then, taking his things with him before closing the car door. Yes, you come in together, but since you insist on keeping family business out of the club, Erik begins making his way in alone.  “Could really use my star player having a great season".

In the distance, you can see Mason; he’s smiling widely, with a coffee cup in his hand, and standing just by the door. He opens it, to let your dad in, and you shake your head in feign disapproval.  “Right, Mount?,” Erik calls, alluding to his previous statement; the one he can’t possibly have heard, given how far he was when he said the words. Between the three of you, you’re not the only one that knows that it’s a test, so Mason answers accordingly.

“Yes, sir, of course”.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six

TW: violence, choking, mentions of bdsm, abuse of authority, cops, unfair power dynamics, harassment, body fluids and drug use mentions, mentions of harm/accidents

For California, it’s a bit chilly out this morning. The sun is getting a lazy late start, just beginning to yawn golden orange and fiery yellow over the horizon. Julian’s hair in that light is the high shine of fashion magazine model locs, and you’re, as usual, opening your mouth before you think. “What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”

He seems thoroughly amused. “Honestly? You’re going to be mad about it.” 

“Try me,” you prod, slipping inside his little sports car that smells like lemon air freshener and coffee. 

He seems a little cramped in the seat, knees bent up and head almost touching the ceiling, and you wonder if he actually even tried to get into this thing before buying it. 

“It’s a rental,” he explains.

“Did you get into an accident?”

“A truck hit mine while it was parked.” 

“How are you so calm about that? I’d punch someone.” 

He looks over at you with a sculpted, raised brow. “I just cannot imagine you hurting a fly, y/n.” 

“Flies are innocent, truck drivers are free game.” 

He gives you a big laugh that strokes the flame of your ego. “You’re hilarious. I use men’s body wash.” 

“What?” Okay, he’s right, you are a little mad. You use shampoo and conditioner that are specifically supposed to soften your hair, but the poof on your head absolutely pales in comparison to his soft, beautiful mane that gets the luxury of … what? Old spice? Axe body wash? 

“I told you,” he sings, turning on the engine. 

Genetics is a bitch. 

He takes you to a fancy little French inspired coffee shop cuddled into the center of an outlet mall with salt lamps and big ferns and comfy chairs. You settle into a nook closests to the sunned windows so Julian can keep an eye on his rental, which is understandable. No part of LA is good to have a Porsche in, but especially not the inner city. 

“This is delicious,” you tell him through a mouthful of warm croissant, covering your lips in embarrassment when you realize that your table manners are less than adequately prepared for a date with a doctor. 

“They have the best coffee,” he agrees, taking a sip of his steaming latte. 

You don’t have time to stop your brain from comparing Julian to a certain cop you know who prefers his coffee black and bitter, or at least that’s what he told you when he saw you drinking your vanilla cream cold foam at the nurse’s station. 

Julian is talking, you think, and you’re only half listening while you remember how Tom had snatched that drink right out of your hands and held it up in the air. 

“Give it back!” You hissed, reaching up on tiptoes while he laughed at the pathetic rescue attempt. 

“Careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself for this pathetic excuse of caffeine. What is it anyway? Is there even coffee in here?” 

After he walked away with his discharge paperwork, your coworkers were understandably curious about the tall, puckish cop who fucked with you any chance he got. 

Miguel watched his ass move the whole way down the hallway and out the glass exit doors while literally clutching the rosary under his scrub shirt as if a devil had just walked by, then looked over at you. “What a man.”

“Are you alright?” Julian asks, bringing you back to the present conversation with a hand over your forearm. He does seem concerned, and it makes you feel like a piece of shit. This guy is a gentleman and here you are on a date with him fantasizing about the brute that is Tom Ludlow. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You wave away his concern. “Tell me about you, Julian. What do you do for fun? Doctor-by-night, Violin-player-by-morning? 

He chuckles. “Nothing that cultured. I like riding motorcycles.”

“Really?” You ask, genuinely surprised and trying to imagine Julian in a gang of bikers with cracked leather skull and snake jackets. 

“I love them.” He nods. “I have three that I take for long rides along the coast. You get lost in it, the wind and salt and sand. The rumble of the engine under you.”

“I’ve never been on one,” you tell him, “and I’m honestly surprised you ride them after what we see in the ER. Don’t you remember that guy that had his calf hanging on by a tendon? Or that woman who had half her face missing?” 

“Yes, I do. But I go the speed limit and wear the proper gear. And I like the thrill.” 

It’s not just the casual t-shirt and worn jeans or the way the light halos his thick silk nest of hair or the roguish grin that makes you see Julian in an entirely new way, now. “You’re wild, Dr. Mercer.”

He licks spilled cream at the ridge of his coffee cup, rubs at the skin of your forearm with his fingers, and winks. You wonder what he would look like between your legs doing the same thing, except with your fingers gripping that luscious hair. 

“You should let me take you for a ride, sometime,” he suggests, and for a minute you forget you’re talking about motorcycles. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Julian.”

“C’mon.” He nudges your knee under the table and relaxes back into his seat, now reminding you too much of someone else you know. Same height, same hair color, same facial structure. 

Fuck. Really? 

“Good boyfriends take their girlfriends on long, romantic motorcycle rides.” 

“But you’re not my boyfriend.”

His smile droops a little bit and it makes you feel bad for being so illiterately ignorant. Well, you feel bad until he opens his mouth. “I am, though.”

He paints it playful, but it sounds a little bit pushy-bossy, even. “I don’t know about that, either, Julian.”

He tries a different angle. “You know, believe it or not, most women would consider me quite the catch.” 

You hope your face doesn’t betray the little bit of ick you get from him saying something so egotistical. “I don’t doubt it, and you deserve someone that can give you what you’re looking for.” 

“You think you can’t give me what I’m looking for?” He leans across the table in sudden intensity, and you balk at the notion. 

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“Why?”

You start to say something, but he cuts you off. “And, I really mean why? Why can’t you give me what I’m looking for? Enlighten me.” 

“I’m not-I have too much baggage.” You unconsciously lean away from his swelling intensity. 

“That’s a little vague.” He frowns. 

“I’m not normal, Julian. You seem like you would like normal women.” You cringe at the childish sentiment, but truly have no idea how to get the point across except for basically telling him that you’re a freak with a bad past and worse coping mechanisms. You eat slices of bread for dinner and drink out of the milk carton. Julian probably irons his shirts. This will not work. 

“You’re assuming I’m normal?”

“Yes. I guess I am.” You lean back and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Well, I’m not. In fact, I’ll prove it to you.” He takes out his wallet, pulls a laminated card from it, and slides it over the table to you. 

“What..” It’s a little red card framed in black with big bold letters on the front advertising a BDSM club in the heart of downtown Venice. “What is this?” 

“BDSM is bondage, domination-“

“I know what that is,” you interrupt. “I just meant.. You go here?”

“I do.” He nods and takes a drink. “I occasionally engage in scenes.”

You decide that you should coat your suddenly very dry mouth and drink a big gulp of your coffee. “Like with a dominatrix?”

He laughs at you, puts his head in his hand and shakes his head. “No. I prefer to be the dominant one.” 

You look at-really, really look at this man for the first time and honestly cannot imagine him taking that role. 

He must see the confusion on your face, because his laughter grows. “That’s the usual reaction I get.”

Curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity killed the-you know what, fuck it. 

“So, what do you do at the club?” 

“A typical play scene, you mean?” How in the hell he can be so casual and relaxed about this you’re not sure. Because you can already feel the cold sweat breaking along your shoulders and neck. 

“I guess? Yeah.”

“Well, ideally the woman is tied up in some fashion, and of course there’s a safe word, negotiated limits. Perhaps a punishment scenario with pain play. Are you okay?” 

He looks at your table-clutching, white knuckled hands, searches your face, giving you a genuine concerned expression that makes you wonder what actually is going on with you right now. You feel like you're on a tightrope over a ravine of crocodiles and Julian’s on the other end lazily sawing at the rope with dull scissors.

“I’m fine,” you say breathily, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about all that.”

His gentle smile is nothing less than kind, though maybe also, a little disappointed. “I get that a lot too.”

“Is that…the only way you enjoy sex?” you ask quietly, leery of the blue-haired old lady just two tables away.

“No,” he seems happy to tell you. “Though it is…the way I enjoy sex most.”

You blink, digesting this with understandable trepidation. He’s basically telling you that it would be impossible to be in a relationship with him without dipping into this eventually. And you…? 

Are definitely intrigued, and you’re not really sure why.

“You said you have baggage,” Julien probes cautiously. You can feel him looking at you, but you’re not quite up to eye contact with him yet. You fix your gaze out the window. “Well, I do too. I haven’t had a perfect life. No one does, and I’m not interested in a perfect girlfriend. I like you, y/n.”

You feel your breath go out in an audible whoosh. It actually makes him smile-you feel it like rays of the sun. How can this man be so warm, and yet have such a dark side?

Well, maybe it’s not a dark side, you reason. Maybe it’s just…a thing he likes, and between consenting adults, what’s the harm?

“So…” You can’t help but think about how odd this is, discussing this in this coffee shop filled with mild-mannered caffeine addicts. What you really want to ask, is what happened to him that makes him like this kind of sexual play, but you know it would be too far, and you damn well don’t feel like talking about your own fucked up past. But there is something you do feel you have a right to know. “Is this something you want to do to me?” 

Again, he fixes you with that bad boy smirk that gives you chills and utterly ruins your panties. “Since the moment you stood up to me over that patient,” he admits. And maybe that should alarm you, that he wants to tie you up and hurt you for being defiant about something that deserved defiance. It does alarm you, but… It also… It sounds a little thrilling. “In fact-“

Julian and the rest of the world and even your own thoughts disappear when you meet a pair of familiar, sun tinted eyes out the window of the coffee shop. He’s grinning-when is he not grinning at you like he knows what it does to your helpless insides?-and licking his fingers, tearing off a yellow parking ticket to slap it under the windshield of Julian’s rental.

“Uh, Julian-“ 

“Just let me finish,” Julian insists. His bossy tone irritates you, but Tom brightens the mood by making a jerking off motion towards the doctor, and then winking at you. 

You can’t help but laugh. It’s honestly involuntary, the loud wheeze that tears from your chest and makes Julian look outside to see the yellow ticket shining under his wiper as Ludlow’s ass saunters away. 

You’re not sure what Julian’s plan is when he storms outside to catch Ludlow by the arm, but you’re definitely following ten strides behind to prevent his untimely death. 

“I’m parked legally.” His voice is a menacing growl instead of the smooth honey you’re used to, and yeah, maybe now you can see a little bit of that Dominant Persona he was talking about. 

“Not after 9AM,” Tom says, unbothered by Julian’s anger, still grinning like an idiot. 

“It’s eight-thirty,” Julian argues, tugging on Tom’s sleeve-that earns him a bent back arm and even the appearance of handcuffs. 

“Tom, stop it, fucking really?” 

“Sorry, honey, your boyfriend’s going to jail.” 

“For what?!” You and Julian both demand at once. 

“Putting his pristine fucking hands on what’s mine.” Tom tugs Julian up on his toes and clicks one handcuff into place. 

You hope he means his uniform, but you have a feeling he doesn’t. 

“That’s way too tight and you know it,” Julian grunts. 

“What, someone likes to dish it out but can’t take it? Don’t be a bitch,” Tom muses, grabbing Julian’s other arm and twisting it-not gently-behind his back. 

“Tom, you fucking dickhead.” 

He looks at you as he’s putting the other cuff on your date. “Oh, I’ll deal with you later.” His grin looks more like a snarl at this point, and you think that Julian could probably take some pretty good Dom pointers from Tom, because your heart is galloping and your clit is pulsing despite the absolute absurdity of the situation. Also-it's a miracle-your sassing mouth has snapped shut. 

After Officer Ludlow practically throws Dr. Mercer into the back of his Charger, slamming the door, he turns to you with a smirk and his thumb in his belt. Goddammit, if that fucking look doesn’t go straight to your lady parts.

“Tom…you cannot do this.” 

A tow truck has pulled up, and is in process of impounding the sweet little Porsche.

He steps up to you in those big black boots that make him a mile tall.

“You’d be surprised what I can and cannot do, sweetheart.”

“Please.” You hate how desperate you know you sound. 

He taps his chin. “Well, I do like the sound of that. But it would be a lot more convincing if you got on your knees and said it.”

“You asshole,” you seethe, even as you can feel the moisture pooling between your legs.

“That kinda language definitely isn’t going to get Doctor Bitch Boy out of my car.”

“What the fuck do you want then?” You know it was a stupid question the moment it flies from your mouth. He’s going to reply with something filthy, and demeaning, and-

“Have dinner with me.”

You’re going to need another tow truck just to get your jaw up off the ground. 

“You’re going to get in trouble for this,” you say. “This isn’t harassing a lowly broke-ass nurse. He is going to sue the shit out of you.”

Tom just snorts at that, unimpressed. “Did you know your friend likes to hang out at a BDSM club in Venice Beach? Whips and chains and shit? Bet this asshole has mommy issues from here to Pasadena. Come on, y/n, you don’t need that in your life.”

It almost sounds like he’s…worried about you?

Officer Ludlow has no idea how badly he’s misjudged you, now that he’s pissed you off. “Maybe I like it,” you snipe back, stretching up so you’re almost in his face. “Fact is, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Ludlow just narrows his eyes down at you, those dark orbs glinting like sharp obsidian. “Well, sorry, guess he’s not tying you up tonight, baby. He’s gotta cool down in the tank.”

He makes to go, but you reach out, not grabbing him, per se, but just touching his chest. He freezes, and you can practically feel him vibrating beneath your hand. With excitement, because he fucking lives for being an asshole, or…you hate to think you know the real answer.

His mitt of a hand covers yours, holding it just above his heart.

“Tom….” Caught up in this tension between you, you’re not even sure what you’re asking now. 

You expect him to say something dirty, or snide, but instead you swear that just for a moment, his gaze softens as he looks down at you. “Dinner?” he asks again, with a note of hope in his voice that is almost endearing, if he wasn’t being such a class A jerk.

“I can’t.”

His demeanor changes in less than a second, drawing up to his full height, his shoulders squared. He flicks down his sunglasses that were on his head, so you can no longer even see his eyes. His voice changes, drops an octave, something. The authority in it makes you shudder inside. “Wave to Dr. Bitch Boy, y/n, we’re going for a little ride.”

Before you can grab him, or do anything, really, Tom is behind the wheel, speeding off with a very pissed off Julian in the back seat.

Your heart drops to your feet as you are left standing there alone on the sidewalk without a ride, and completely at a loss as to what to do.

***

“I’m going to fucking sue you,” Julian grits, kicking the back of Tom’s seat for good measure. 

“Yeah, yeah, with your doctor money,” Tom grumbles, taking a big swig of coffee with one hand and steering recklessly with the other because it’s fun to watch that skinny fuck bounce around helplessly in the seat. 

“I’m not getting booked tonight, Officer Ludlow. I’m calling my fucking lawyer.”

“Sorry, Doctor Bitch, your Lawyer’s busy until tomorrow afternoon, didn’t you hear?”

“You son of a-“

Tom gasses the car over a big pothole and it sends Julian flying into the opposite door. It’s a sight he could almost get off to.

Julian, big goose egg swelling up on his temple, gets yanked out of the squad car and tossed on the shit smeared, needle peppered streets of South Central. “They probably need you here more than the hospital, Doctor. Have fun–”

“Wait! Fuck. I’m still cuffed for fuck’s sake!” Tom gives the little guy credit for being able to get up on his feet so fast with his hands behind his back and a probable minor concussion. “You can’t leave me here.”

Tom pauses with his hand on the lip of the hot car door, but only to memorize the sight of a sweat-stained, wild eyed, trembling distinguished doctor about to get his shit wrecked on the mean LA Streets. He’s guessing Julian’s never visited much outside of Hollywood, Venice, and Santa Monica, and the cute little horrified expression on his face is testament to that. 

Tom taps the hood of his car. “See ya, Doc.” 

“You know,” Julian says, “this isn’t going to stop me from seeing her, Tom.” 

Well, if he wants a fight. 

Tom slams the charger door, whips off his belt, backs Julian up until he falls on his ass into a steaming puddle of unknown origin, and loops the leather around his neck. 

He tugs him up by the belt, onto his toes, eliminating that fraction of height difference just so he can see the whites of this prick’s eyes. 

He doubles the wrap of the belt in his fist, and Julian sputters something unintelligible through a thick choke. 

“What’s wrong? Thought you liked this shit?” Tom pretends to wait for an answer that he prevents. “Oh, that’s right, you like being the one doing the choking. That gets your dick wet, huh? Beating on women?” 

He wants nothing more than to choke this fucker unconscious and leave him on the streets for the hepatitis rats to chew on his toes, and, fuck it, if he ends up passing out by the time Tom’s done saying his peace, then so be it. 

“You can see her all you want, asshole. Take her on as many dates as you like. But if I see one fuckin’ bruise on her-one red mark on that pretty skin-I’m gonna make the rest of your short life very fucking unpleasant. Comprende?” 

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 8

Eddie and Steve threw a few more axes, Eddie getting unnecessarily close to fix Steve's form many times. There was a point where Eddie didn't even need to fix anything but if Steve was letting him touch, he would. After about half an hour more, Robin took Steve into the bathroom again. Eddie knew he was the subject of the conversation. He just didn't know in what regard.

He skipped over to Jeff. "Ain't he a peach?"

"Got an ass like one", Jeff offered.

"Just utter perfection. Don't go oglin' him too much though. I might get the wrong idea."

"He's all yours Eddie. I don't even think a crowbar could get between you two right now", Jeff said.

Steve came out of the bathroom with Robin and it was decided that Robin would head on back to the apartment, taking Steve's car.

"You're letting Robin drive?", Eddie asked with a raised brow. He remembered Steve remarking quite a bit how his little birdie had two left wings, so to speak and how it took her about five tries to get her driver's license because she'd been so nervous behind the wheel.

"She can make it", Steve said confidently. "And it'll give us some time to ourselves. And I'll need someone to drive me when the night's done." He stepped closer to Eddie and Eddie closed the distance even more. It was like they were magnetic.

"Drive you home?"

Steve smiled, hearing the hopeful tone in his voice. "I was thinking your place, actually."

They were nearly nose to nose now and Steve barely even noticed Robin taking the keys from his pocket. Eddie couldn't stand being that close and not kissing him so he did just that. The only thing that made them stop was Jeff shooing them out just as a kid's birthday party came in. Couldn't have them doing all that in front of children, after all.

Eddie led Steve to his van. "Your chariot, your highness", he said as he opened the door for him.

Steve got in and looked around, taking in everything that was Eddie. Eddie practically ran to get in on the other side and turn it on.

"So, where to?"

"I could eat", Steve said. His stomach was still fluttering with how new everything was, so he didn't think he'd be eating much, but he could put something in his stomach.

Eddie took them to a little restaurant and Eddie admitted to being nervous to and not wanting to eat much, so they agreed on just some appetizers.

"I feel like I'm about two seconds from vomiting. In a good way!", he added quickly.

"A little worrying that you've been letting me kiss you all night with that knowledge", Steve grinned. He reached out across the table and held Eddie's hand. "I can't believe I can just touch you."

"You can do more than touch", Eddie said, kissing his fingertips.

"Is this...are we...?" Steve's gaze turned down.

"What?"

"Are we going too fast? We just met today but-I mean normally when I meet a guy, I'm not all over him like this but with you-"

"Sweet thing", Eddie beamed. "I've been courtin' you since you sent that first text."

Steve chuckled. "The very first one?"

"Well maybe not when you thought I was still Misty. But I don't consider this a first meeting. How can I when we already know so much about each other?" Eddie knew how Steve was before bed and right when we woke up. Steve knew which tattoos had meaning and which didn't.

"So I'm not...you don't think I'm being too much?", Steve asked.

Eddie shook his head. "Baby you could crawl in my ribs and it wouldn't be close enough. I've been trying to drink you in all night, haven't you noticed?"

"I might've noticed a few sips here and there", Steve got warm as Eddie kissed up his wrist. Only the table standing between them got in the way of going further. But it was very easy to imagine Eddie's lips having nothing in their way.

Eddie's eyes had been closed while savoring Steve's skin but when he opened them they were dark with desire. "What do you say we-"

"Yes."

They had time for dinner dates (which they'd already done) and eventful outings. Right now the things they wanted to do required privacy. Eddie was on his best behavior, trying to take the quickest route back to his place. Steve was doing every naughty thing imaginable, short of unzipping Eddie's pants and giving him road head. He stroked Eddie's thigh, kissed his neck, licked in his ear, played with his hair.

And even when Eddie gave him a soft reprimand, lest they crash, Steve found ways to torture him.

"So mean, not letting me touch you", he said, squirming in his seat. He started rolling his hips like he was grinding the air and Eddie thought he was going to lose his mind.

He pretty much screeched to a stop and tore both their doors open. Once Steve was out, Eddie pinned him to the side of the van, devouring his mouth and pressing their hips together. He was already fully tented in his jeans.

"You knowmmm", Steve broke off in a moan as Eddie released his lips to start on his neck. "You have a van. You could've just pulled o-oohhh-off and had me back there."

"A pretty thing like you?", Eddie smirked. "You deserve a bed, princess."

With that clear goal in mind, Eddie took Steve up to his apartment. Steve had just enough time to take in sights familiar from past video calls: the guitar, one of the many band posters, and various mugs hanging in the kitchen before Eddie was pulling him into the bedroom. Eddie sat on the bed and Steve slid easily into his lap.

Eddie groaned at the weight on him. "Got a present for me, big boy?", he asked, hands going behind Steve to squeeze his cheeks.

"Sounds like you already know."

He did. Touching Steve so much gave him a little preview. But it was still fun to unwrap it later. He did just that, unbuttoning and then unzipping Steve's pants to see the flash of purple lace.

"You like?", Steve asked. He didn't need to though, Eddie's face was easy to read.

"Oh baby, I like. I like very much." Eddie helped Steve out of his shirt, kissing the skin that was revealed to him and then helped him out of his pants.

Steve stood before Eddie who was still sitting on the bed and put his hands on his shoulders. Eddie's hands went to his hips, touching the lavender material almost reverently. He showed restraint, not immediately diving in, but just for a second. He tried going in for a taste but Steve put a finger to his forehead, stopping him.

"Your turn."

He went around Eddie and laid across the bed, waiting for him to get on with it. Eddie was a whirlwind of clothes being torn off his body and Steve laughed as he hopped into bed with him.

"You moved like the Tasmanian Devil", Steve smiled.

Eddie put an arm around Steve's waist and pulled him in close. "Well you make me go-", then he made a bunch of incomprehensible babbling noises. "Please don't kick me out of bed", he said once he realized what he did.

But Steve had been smiling the whole time. Then laughing. Then petting Eddie's hair and bringing him in for a kiss.

"Sooo, you're not turned off?", Eddie ventured. Steve was kissing his jaw now, but he had to ask to be sure.

"I always thought Taz was kinda cute."

"I'm more of a Bugs Bunny guy myself", Eddie said.

Steve smirked as he reached down to grasp Eddie's cock that had been sitting between them, weeping and neglected until now. He leaned in, whispering hotly as Eddie's curls tickled his cheek.

"What's up, doc?"

"Holy shit", Eddie gasped out as Steve started to stroke him. "That shouldn't be so hot."

"Life's full of surprises, isn't it?", Steve winked.

Only about two years later, before all of their friends and family in their best formal wear, would Steve admit that he knew Eddie was the one from the first time they made love. Because he made him laugh the entire time.

"It wasn't only because I made you laugh, right?", Eddie would ask during their third dance of the night.

"I was only laughing so much because of how funny, brilliant, romantic, and sexy you were that night", Steve said.

Steve was wearing a golden yellow tuxedo with black accents, while Eddie was wearing the reverse. It was fitting, given that of all the pet names Eddie gave him, 'honey' probably came up the most. Honey, sweet thing, sweetheart, and even one time sugar tits. Eddie was obsessed with telling Steve how sweet he was.

"And to think, this wouldn't've happened if that girl gave you her real number", Eddie mused out loud. "Her loss. Her incredibly, massively huge loss."

"No", Steve smiled, bringing his hands to Eddie's face to give him a sweet kiss. "I think I got the right number."

1 year ago...

[10:33 am] If these kids ask about boba one more time I'm gonna turn myself into wild garlic and find a field to disappear in.

(11:17 am) 💍? tonite? (11:18 am) We could order from that new Taiwanese place too (11:18 am) I promise no boba (11:37 am) cmon Steve i've never had food from taiwannn i wanna try it

(12:52 pm) Honey?

[12:53 pm] There is NO way that you're proposing to me through a text right now

(1:01 pm) What? Shit no! Wait not no but no I was asking if you wanted to watch The Ring tonight? The one about the cursed video? (1:03 pm) Stevie? (1:03 pm) Baby? (1:04 pm) Shit you're working now. (1:04 pm) Pls dont be mad? And pls come home after work

Steve did come home to their now shared apartment and Eddie had been waiting on his knees, one of his own wings on a tiny pillow that Steve didn't even know they had. Eddie had babbled about wanting to plan for it more and talk about it more and getting an actual ring and making the proposal special but how he'd known for a while now that he wanted to marry Steve and it was in such an anxious rush that Steve's ears only got part of it.

His heart got all of it.

"On your feet, Taz. Yes, I'll marry you."

Eddie shot up and gathered Steve in his arms, spinning them around in a whirl. Eddie definitely tried to get them to fall on the couch when they started to lose their balance but he miscalculated and they hit the floor instead, one of Eddie's legs catching on the coffee table.

Despite the pain, Steve was giggling. "I knew we should've taken that left turn at Alburquerque."

Eddie groaned at how his leg smarted. "That's all folks."

END

Yaaay! Thank you for another one! If you liked the lil tidbits of Steve's job here I'm planning a teacher au soon so be on the lookout for that :)

Tag Team

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

[charlewiss-writes]

call it what you want / charles leclerc

masterlist

day 13: necklace (one-word november prompts!)

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: after a awful night at qatar gp 2021, you were looking for a way out and charles was right there. how did your relationship evolve when you didn't want anything to do with anyone, but he was, well, him?

t you're constantly attracting eachother?

warnings: abusive behaviour. max being an asshole but only for the fic (I don't believe he is actually like that, I just needed someone to play the villain)

author's note: I know that it's late but i really liked how this turned out 🥹 hope you like it too!

inspired by:

I recall late November, holdin' my breath

sunday, november 21, 2021.

after coming second place, you knew max would be furious. he was still in the lead of the 2021 world championship, but with lewis just a few points behind him, the pressure was too high. you saw his faked smile on the podium, and even though your cheers for your boyfriend were genuine, the smile on your lips didn't quite reach your eyes.

max wasn't aggressive, but sometimes, when he was really mad about something that happened on the track, he would raise his voice a bit too high for your liking, and close the doors a bit too hard for you to avoid flinching. and that's what happened when the dutchman entered his driver's room after he had finished all his duties.

"what are you doing here?" he said, after closing the door a bit too hard. you winced at the venom that distilled from his voice. you quickly began to apologize, even though there was no real reason for you to do. "I'm sorry, I thought you might need-"

"I don't need anything from you. leave." he said, not giving you a second look. "what?"

"i said leave!"

too stunned to actually talk back at him for taking his anger out on you, you simply stood up and left, careful not to make too big of a fuss and trying to go unnoticed. when you got out the door of the hospitality, walking as fast as you could, you accidentally bumped into someone.

Slowly I said, "You don't need to save me

But would you run away with me?"

Yes (would you run away?)

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"y/n, right?" you nodded, still looking at your feet to avoid looking straight into the man's eyes. "are you okay?". you mumbled a quick "i need to go" before yanking your wrist out of his touch. still, he went after you. "I know you maybe don't know me, but please" he ran a little, just enough to put his body in front of you again, impending your way. "how can i help you?".

with how freaked out you were about the whole situation that had occurred in the last 5 minutes, you hadn't realised that the man that was in front of you was charles leclerc.

you didn't actually know him personally, just by the little gentle nods when you were accompanying your boyfriend to the races. still, he had always been friendly towards you, but that didn't mean you two were close. but he was your only way out of there, and there wasn't anything you wanted more than to get away from max, as quickly as possible, in whatever way you could.

"can you get me out of here?"

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

he nodded enthusiastically, looking intentionally at your eyes. it was like he was seeing right through you, like he knew about everything that went downhill inside the building behind you. and with that sympathetic look that could light up the whole night, he grabbed your hand and you two made your way out of the track, thankfully avoiding prying eyes.

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

the first few days where hard.

you didn't know charles that well, and he understood why you didn't feel comfortable talking about what happened that sunday night. after all, max was his friend first, and you thought that he wouldn't believe whatever you had to tell him if that meant going behind his friend's back.

but he proved you wrong.

day after day he called you, visited the place where you were staying, making sure you were okay, that you had everything you would need without actually having to leave, avoiding running into your now ex boyfriend. charles was doing everything in his power to help you through this time, but still giving you the space you desperately needed, wanting to get away from the racing world.

thankfully, max hadn't called you after everything that happened. it seemed like he understood the message quite clearly after you went back to your shared place and took everything with you.

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressin' up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

monday, december 13, 2022.

the speculations about your breakup had started quickly due to your disappearance when the next weekend rolled around. it was weird, especially after being by max's side through the whole season. and even though the dutchman didn't actually confirm or deny the breakup rumors, when he won the 2021 world driver championship and had another girl cheering for him, it became quite clear that you two were over.

charles and you had grown closer since that night in qatar, and after abu dhabi, he flew as quickly as he could back to monaco. not only because he desperately wanted the season to be over after finishing seventh in the standings, but because he wanted to see you as soon as possible, to assure that you were doing okay after max's little show the day before.

"what are you doing here?" you were a little surprised to see charles back at your place, in monaco, after watching him on tv a few hours before, racing on the other side of the world. "wanted it all to end as soon as possible. took the first flight back home" he hugged you and rubbed your back while doing so. you moved aside, so he could step into your apartment.

"i know you saw the little stunt he pulled yesterday" he mumbled, seated in your couch with his arms resting on his knees, looking at the floor. he never referred to max by his name when he was talking about him with you, not that it happened often. being a harry potter die-hard fan, he preferred to call him by voldemort's nickname in the series, he who must not be named. it was a silly thing to do, but it always made you smile. you sat next to him and put your palm on his knee, reassuringly. "i'm just glad you got tenth place" you smiled, and now he turned his head, connecting his blue eyes with yours. "i'm sure you'll do better next season".

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right

monday, february 14, 2022.

"can we go out tonight?" charles looked at you with pleading eyes, while laying on your stomach. "you're sure?" you said, clear doubt in your voice. being valentine's day, you knew that if anyone saw you, they would put two and two together and figure that between charles and you there was something bigger than a friendship.

not that you really cared about what anyone would say, but it would be like throwing a match to a gasoline tank, inevitably exploding, and you were afraid that it would break you two apart. charles would be called a bad friend, a traitor, like anyone apart from you three knew what truly happened between you. and you would be called every name on the book. so you wanted to avoid going public for however long you could, keep your situationship in the dark.

"yes, are you?"

after everything that happened with your ex, you had almost promised to yourself that you wouldn't date another driver on the grid. and it wasn't intentional, but how could you not fall for charles when he was an angel sent from heaven?

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

saturday, march 20, 2022.

going against your friend's advice, you decided to join charles on the first race weekend of the season. it was your first race back since everything went downhill in qatar, so you were nervous about running into max or any redbull's employees, knowing that your presence would eventually be disclosed to the dutchman. so, you remained at all times on charles' trailer, where usually no one came close, and no one apart from his pr manager and carlos knew about you turning up to bahrain.

not even charles, as you didn't want to distract him from qualifying.

only after getting pole, for the first time of the season, carlos was the one responsible to tell his monegasque friend that you were actually there. he almost was as quickly as his car when running through the paddock, trying to get to you as quickly as possible. once he made it through the door, closing it fast to avoid any spying eyes, he reached for you, already standing on the middle of the room, prepared to congratulate him on his achievement. "I knew you could do it, love!"

"everything for you".

I want to wear his initial

On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck

Not because he owns me

But 'cause he really knows me

thursday, august 12, 2022.

even though you were acting like a couple for a bit now, and everyone that knew you thought that you were, in fact, together, you two weren't official yet. not because you didn't want to, but you wanted to avoid moving too fast, and charles understood your decision. you were seen at the track a couple of times now since the season started, always by the monegasque side, but walking behind him, careful to keep your distance.

but now, since the summer break had started, you had spent every waking moment together in your apartment, almost attached to the hip. considering that he would be going with his family on a trip soon, you didn't want to lose any moment you two could enjoy, not wanting to miss him later, even though it would be inevitable.

"why don't you come with me then, ma belle?" charles said, while packing the things he kept at your house on a suitcase. you laughed a bit, thinking that he was joking. when you saw his serious face, you got up from the couch and went to hug him from behind. "maybe another time, love. now you have to rest, spend some time with your loved ones".

"then you should be there too" charles turned his head a bit so he could kiss your temple. he whispered in your ear "wait, i have something I've been waiting to give you."

you weren't good with surprises, so you stood up quickly after charles had gone to grab whatever he had on his jacket. pouting, you said "what is it, charles?"

"don't be inpatient and close your eyes for me, love" he called with a tone full of mischief. you laughed a bit and put your hands covering your eyes, to avoid the urge to spy. "put your hands out" charles commanded and you obliged, extending your palms face up towards where you assumed he was standing.

he deposited a small box that, once he told you it was okay to open your eyes, you could see that was white. opening it you saw a beautiful necklace with a little c letter on it, small but still visible enough. "i know this could be too soon for you, but i need to do this. you can call it what you want, but please, will you be officially mine?"

smiling, you answered softly. "nothing i would want more, charles".

[musings-of-a-rose]

Safe With Me

Pairing: Robbie Reyes x f!reader

Word Count: 10,700+ (you voted and wanted a longer one shot!)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen, I have it bad for Gabriel Luna. Bad. As in no coming back. And I saw some gifs of him as Robbie (the first role I saw him in), I've been rewatching his episodes of Agents of Shield, and I had to write something. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for giving me an idea that, in typical me fashion, went completely off the rail and became an actual story and not just smut. 

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Robbie Reyes Masterlist

Bold Italics are the Rider internally speaking to Robbie

Robbie never thought he’d be here, a driver to some rich guy’s daughter. He could feel the Rider, how beneath him the Rider felt that playing chauffeur was. But it was because of the Rider that Robbie was here, trying to get solid information on her dad, to prove he was the secret bad guy…and to bring vengeance.

When he agreed to be a driver for the family, he thought he’d be driving around the man himself, but when his daughter stepped out of the house, Robbie’s eyes went wide and he was momentarily speechless. He hadn’t seen anyone this gorgeous in…well, ever. She walked with confidence to the car and when he tried to open the door for her, she gave him a small smile and stepped around him, eyes roaming over the car. 

“1969 Dodge Charger…you’ve made some modifications?” 

She knows about cars? 

When he doesn’t answer right away, she stops, hand hovering over the hood and looks up at him, her eyebrows raised as she waits for an answer.

“Yeah, uh..yes.”

She nods, glancing back down at the flawless finish. “May I?”

Robbie never lets anyone touch his car. No one. 

“Don’t scratch her.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Her fingers lightly brush against the black paint, the car seemingly humming under her touch. Robbie shifts where he stands, like he can almost feel her fingers brush against his own skin. 

“She’s remarkable. And you’re sure you’re fine with driving me around in her?” Her eyes meet his again and he swallows hard. He'd thought the request to be driven in a car like his was odd, but he assumed Mr. Rich Asshole was a car guy. He never anticipated that it was his daughter. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shifts a little, smiling as she glances back down at the car before moving around it to get inside the door Robbie had opened. She pauses before sitting and looks at him, so close he swears he can feel her breath on his face.

“If you change your mind, let me know. I’d hate to put this car in any danger.”

Robbie chuckles to himself as he closes the door behind her. If only she knew how much danger his car got into on a weekly basis.

Over the next few weeks, he takes her various places on a pretty consistent schedule, mostly shopping, occasionally meeting up with some friends, a random night club or two. Robbie finds her fascinating. He assumed that she would be pompous, like most rich people, that she would look down on others and treat them like shit. But she doesn’t. And the more he watches her, the more he sees how her smiles to her friends don’t reach her eyes, how she never wears the clothes she buys, the little sigh that escapes her lips before she steps out and into the club, her dress just barely covering her.  

One day, Robbie was elbow deep in a broken engine when his phone rang, the one that he used only for his chauffeur job. He wipes his hands on his coveralls and pulls the phone out, surprised to see her name lighting up the screen. She never needs him on Mondays.

“This is Robbie.”

“Hi, Mr. Reyes. I’m sorry to call you on your day off, but..would you be willing to take me into town?”

He looks back at the engine, disassembled, pieces scattered all around, and she takes his hesitance as a no.

“You know what? I’m sorry, Mr. Reyes. I shouldn’t ask you on your day off. I..I’ll just-”

“No, no. It’s ok. I can come get you. Are you at home?”

“Yeah. When can you get here?”

Robbie glances up at the clock on the wall. “45 minutes?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Ok. I’ll see you then.”

Robbie stares at the phone for a moment before cleaning up and changing, wiping the grease from his face and hands. Why had she called? She seemed a little off. 

He got there in 20 minutes with a little help from the Rider.

When he pulls up, she’s there, walking quickly to his car. Robbie jumps out and starts to walk around to get her door but she waves him off. “It’s ok. I got it.” He nods, watching her walk to the car, hunched in on herself, arms crossed and hiding behind sunglasses. She gets in and closes the door, buckling her seat belt. 

“Where to?”

“I don’t care, just drive.”

Robbie starts up the car, revving the engine a little because he knew she liked that. The corner of her mouth ticks up slightly into the beginning of a smile and he relaxes slightly, still worried about her. 

“My dad hates that sound.”

It’s the first time she’s mentioned her dad, has said anything to him outside of polite conversation and chats about the car. 

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

She reaches out and touches his arm, lightly squeezing him. “No, please don’t stop.” Robbie stops the car as the gates open slowly and he turns to look at her, trying to see through her sunglasses. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Neva.”

Robbie’s eyebrows pinch together. “Neva?”

She nods, taking a breath. “It’s what my nanny called me. She was Russian. She said it meant snowy, or something like that. I was born during a bad snowstorm,” She clarifies and Robbie nods. Neva removes her hand from his arm and starts to pick at her nails, placing them in her lap. “She was the only one who really cared for me. No one else calls me that name. Probably because nobody cares.”

Robbie is speechless. He has no idea what to say, but he wants her to know that she can open up to him. Maybe she’ll tell him more about her dad, but it’s more than that now. It’s…wait, does he care about her?

“I’m sorry you have shitty parents.”

She laughs then, her head tilting back with the force of it, and Robbie vows to make her laugh as often as he can. As her laughter fades, she takes off her glasses and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“You’re a riot, Mr. Reyes. Thanks for making me laugh.”

He smiles at her. “Is…is there anything I can do for you?”

She stares at him a long time and he hopes she can’t see the warmth in his cheeks that was definitely not from the Rider. 

“I doubt you can help, but thank you.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty resourceful.”

She smiles sadly. “I doubt any of your resources could change who my father is.” Robbie opens his mouth to respond when she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t want to hear about my problems… so, do you have a sister or brother or girlfriend or…or someone?”

He studies her for a moment, amazed at how she instantly schooled her demeanor into a completely different emotion, as if whatever the shit was with her dad never happened. 

“I have a brother.”

“Just a brother? No girlfriend? Sister! I meant sister.”

He glances away from her, hiding his smirk at her slip up by pretending to look out the window before he turns. “Nah, just Gabe.”

“Gabe. How old is he?”

“High school.”

“Ah. The fun years, or whatever everyone says.”

“What, you didn’t like high school?”

She shakes her head. “Hated it. Everyone was so fake and I just didn’t fit in. Ok, well I mean I made friends but not anyone I’d actually consider a real friend. Just kids of people my dad has connections with or wants connections with.”

“Your dad would use you for that?”

She grows quiet, staring out of the window. “He does.”

Robbie stops at the red light and angles his body towards her. “Hey, you sure you’re ok-”

“Does Gabe need anything for school?”

Robbie stares at her, her eyes pleading for him to take the change of subject. He’d follow her lead this time, but he tucks that information about her dad in the back of his mind. Something wasn’t sitting right with him about it. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’re good.”

“That’s not what I asked. Is there something he’s into?”

“He used to be really into soccer before…”

“Before?”

Robbie took a deep breath. “Before the accident…Now he’s in a wheelchair.”

She squeezes his arm again and it makes his whole body feel like a livewire. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr. Reyes. Do you guys need anything? What about any medical bills?”

“We’re fine, thanks.”

She takes her hand away like he had slapped her. “I’m just trying to help.”

He stops at another red light, putting on his turn signal. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…everyone always wants to pity us. But we’re doing fine.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just..have the means to help. If you’ll let me?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Good thing you didn’t then. Now, what sorts of clothes does he like?”

Robbie could tell she was being genuine, not like most people with money who fake it just to use it as a tax write off or a photo op. So they spend the next several minutes talking about Gabe, Robbie telling her some fun stories from their youth as she directs him to a shopping district. He pulls up to an empty spot and parks, getting out of the car and opening Neva’s door. She gets out and smoothes down her pants as Robbie starts to head back to the driver’s seat. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to wait for you like I always do.”

“Oh no. You’re coming with me.” She links her arm through his and Robbie tries to slow down his beating heart, certain that she can hear it through his chest. “I need you, Mr. Reyes.”

“Yeah?” Shit, he shouldn’t have let that slip out. She didn’t mean she needed him, but she needed his opinion. 

She squeezes his arm with hers in response, turning her head to look at him, her face inches from his. He swallows hard as his eyes switch between hers, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. Her eyes flick down to his lips, his breath catching in his throat as she leans towards him ever so slightly.

“Ah, mademoiselle!” The store owner had come outside, no doubt spotting Neva, who frequents his shop. Robbie’s blood boils at the interruption but perhaps it was for the best. He’d almost forgotten that the reason he’s even driving her around is to get more information on her dad. 

“Alexandre. How nice to see you.”

Alexandre leans in to kiss her cheek and Robbie feels her grip on his arm tighten slightly. 

“What brings you in today?”

“I need some gifts for a friend of mine.” Neva launches into a description of Gabe that is so spot on for not ever meeting him or seeing a picture of him that Robbie is taken aback. Once inside, Robbie tries to extricate himself from her but she holds on tight, pulling him to some racks of clothes that Alexandre was pointing out, pulling things from the racks and tossing them at another clerk, who was frantically trying to hold everything. Once they had it all laid out, Neva turns to Robbie, gesturing at the clothes all nicely folded. 

“How’s this? Is there anything he wouldn’t like?”

He can feel Alexandre’s eyes on him, like he knows he doesn’t belong in her world, like Robbie doesn’t already know that. He shakes his head. “I can’t take this.”

“Oh. Is it the wrong size? Or color?”

“No, it’s just…it’s too much.”

“Oh. Does he need another dresser?”

“No that’s not-”

“Mr. Reyes, you told me it was his birthday and I’m insisting on buying him some things. He’s been working hard in school and deserves a reward for all of his hard work. Now, is there anything else he needs?”

Her eyebrows are raised in question: why did she say it was Gabe's birthday? He doesn’t have time to think about that and he knows she won’t accept him declining her offer. “No. No this is more than enough.”

She smiles at him, one that reaches her eyes. “Good. Alexandre?” He’s there in an instant. “Ring me up. Charge my father’s card.”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

She takes him to lunch next, insisting that she pays as this was supposed to be his day off. They go to some fancy restaurant with food that Robbie can’t pronounce, with portions that are way too small for the price, but they tasted great. Not homemade meals from his abuela great, but not bad. 

He pulls up to the front of the house, putting the car in park before grabbing the handle, when Neva touches his arm again. 

“Thank you for today, Mr. Reyes.”

He hesitates a moment before placing his gloved hand over hers, meeting her gaze. “You can call me anytime, Neva.” She smiles at him, squeezing his arm before turning, allowing Robbie time to open her door just in case her dad was watching. He can still feel her hand on his arm, how it felt to link her arm in his, how her laugh sounded, the way he made her smile, like it was only for him. 

Damn, Robbie. You got it bad.

—----

“How did you find this?” Robbie stares at the car part in the box he’s holding in disbelief. “I’ve been looking for this for years!”

Neva smiles and waves her hand nonchalantly. “I know a guy.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is impossible to find.”

“Obvioulsy not as you’re holding it.”

Robbie looks up at her, a smile sliding into place. “I don’t..this is too much, I..”

Neva pretends to gasp, placing her hand on her chest. “Was I just graced a smile from Mr. Reyes?” Robbie can almost feel his ears turning pink, a little extra heat in his cheeks and looks back down into the box. Neva leans in a little closer to him. “I’ll have to do this more often if it means I get to see that smile.”

Robbie looks up, his eyes meeting hers. She’s close to him now. If he just leaned in a little further, he could press his lips to hers, feel how soft they -

“Do you want to put it in now?” Her eyebrows raise, but not before she glances down at his lips again. 

“What?”

Neva nods her head towards the box. “The part.”

Robbie shakes his head, pushing aside the images of pressing her against the side of the car, her leg wrapping around him as they embrace. “Uh…yeah. But after work-”

“I have nothing to do today. Can we go now? I’d love to watch you install it. If that’s ok with you?”

I’d let you do whatever you want.

Robbie tries to hold back the smile he feels coming on, but he can’t. “Hell yeah. Oh, I mean-”

Neva waves her hand. “I don’t give a fuck about bad language. Also, that’s two smiles I got from you. I’m definitely spoiling you more often.”

Robbie pulls into Canelo’s Auto and Body, driving up to one of the empty bays. He hops out and starts looking for tools, gathering what he needs. 

“Are you allowed to do that?” 

Robbie turns to see Neva standing outside of the car, watching him open and close toolboxes. He realizes then that he’s never mentioned also being a mechanic.

“Yeah. I work here too.”

Her eyes go wide and she nods. “That actually makes so much sense now!”

“What does?”

She gestures around. “The cars. How you’re able to keep her-” she points to the Charger “-so pristine.”

“Yeah. It’s a good place. Owned by good people. I don’t know where we’d be without them,” Robbie returns to the drawers, finding the last tool he needed and closes the drawer. When he turns back around, he freezes, watching Neva remove her outershirt, standing there in a skin tight camisole that hugs her in all the right ways, framing her chest perfectly as she pulls her hair back off of her face. Once her hair is secured, she pats her head a little, making sure she didn’t forget any loose strands. She jumps a little when she sees Robbie staring.

“Sorry! It’s just hot out and-am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What? Uh no. No, you’re, uh..fine.”

Her smile makes his body tingle and he has a short, internal conversation with the Rider, telling him to calm his shit. Robbie sets up his tools, putting the car up on jacks. When he finally lifts the hood, he hears a soft moan from Neva as she steps around, her eyes fixed on the engine. 

“Did you do all this work yourself?” She asks, standing so close to him that their arms lightly brush against each other and Robbie desperately wishes he wasn’t wearing sleeves.

“Y-yeah. I had to rebuild her, basically. The car was my uncle’s but he doesn’t need it now.”

She glances up at him. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Robbie chuckles. "Don't be. He's in prison."

"Oh,” She looks down, nervous, at a loss for words. “…well I'm not sure how to respond to that. I'm sorry?" She lifts her head and he can feel her eyes on him. 

Robbie turns his head slightly to look at her. "It is what it is." He wasn't about to go into his personal business with her. Not when she's standing so close, smelling like her shampoo of strawberries and coconut. He can’t help it, his eyes flicking down to her soft lips, dragging back up her face to see hers tracing a similar path on his own. He brings a hand to her face, gently cradling her cheek as he slowly leans towards her, feeling her fingers lightly tug at his shirt to pull him closer. Her eyes close-

“Robbie! I didn’t expect to see yo- oh.”

Robbie and Neva spring apart as a man in coveralls walks in, rubbing a dirty oil rag across his matching hands. 

“Hey Canelo. I just came in to install this piece.” Robbie gestures towards the box and Canelo glances inside, whistling in awe.

“Holy shit. Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t. She did.” Robbie nods his head towards Neva, who shrugs.

Canelo looks between them both, a smile tugging at his lips. “Robbie, do you really think your date wants to see you work on a car?”

“Oh we’re not-”

“We aren’t-”, they both speak at the same time and Canelo chuckles. 

“Actually, I asked him to bring me. I love this car.” Canelo looks at Neva in surprise.

“Oh yeah?” He proceeds to give her a mini quiz, which she aces. 

“Robbie, don’t let this one go. She’s a keeper.”

“No, we’re not-”

Canelo waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” He leaves, tossing you a wink before heading back into the office. Neva steps back from the car, giving Robbie space to work. He sighs, internally cursing his boss for interrupting that kiss. It would’ve been a kiss, right?

When he drops her off later, after taking the car for a much enjoyed ride, she touches his arm to stop him from getting out and opening her door. 

“I think we should talk about what happened. Or, almost happened.”

She regrets the kiss doesn’t she? Almost kiss? We are from different worlds. 

Robbie waves his hand, determined to get in front of this so he doesn’t show how her letting him down hurts. “It’s ok. Nothing happened so…”

Her face changes, a flash of disappointment before she expertly schools it. “Very well then. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Reyes.” And she opens the door, closing it a little harder than normal behind her. Robbie watches her walk away, feeling like he fucked up big time.

That’s because you did fuck up.

—----

For the next few weeks, Neva is polite, a coolness settling over their interactions after his rejection. He didn’t want to reject her, he wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, begging him for more. But she was the one who was going to stop things so why should he feel guilty?

She didn’t tell you that, you idiot. You made it up.

She asks him to drive her to a party one night, offering to pay him extra since it was after his regular hours. He agreed, of course he agreed. He felt guilty and kept trying to talk to her, but couldn’t find the words.

Don’t forget why you’re really here.

When he pulls up she’s walking out of the house, a snug, black dress that rouches on the sides, a slit going up nearly to her hip, and a neckline that plunges, perfectly framing her chest. She has on black heels and clutches a small black purse that is more for looks than practicality. Suddenly, Robbie couldn’t breathe, watching her walk towards the car, the dress sliding across her skin but never revealing more than it should. She makes it halfway before the Rider snaps him out of it and he jumps out, walking quickly to the other side to open the door. She gets in the car without really looking at him, smoothing down her hair as he closes the door. When they start to drive off, she sighs, setting the small clutch in her lap and leaning her face against her fist as her elbow rests on the door. When the gate is opening, Robbie chances a look at her. She looks phenomenal, but her expression doesn’t match. Her color is a little off, the sparkle in her eyes not really there. 

“Are you ok?”

“Mmm?” Neva turns her head to look at him. 

“You don’t look good. I mean, y-you-you look..just…but I mean, your face doesn’t…” What the fuck dude?

Luckily for him, she smiles slightly, a small chuckle escaping her. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

His cheeks warm, his ears tinging a slight shade of pink as he stammers on. “I just… I meant that you don’t look into this.”

“This?”

“The party.”

She leans back on her fist. “Oh. Yeah. I’m not really.”

“Then why go?”

She sighs. “Because my dad commands I make an appearance.”

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

She doesn’t look at him, her eyes gazing off at a point in the distance. “I’ve been through worse. I can survive a party.”

He’s quiet for a moment. What did she mean she’s been through worse? “Well if you change your mind, you know how to find me.”

He drops her off, watching her walk into the building that’s crammed with people, loud music blaring and lights flashing everywhere. He drives around the corner, parking just off property so as not to interfere with the valet and waits. He had a feeling. And sure enough, about an hour later she texts him to come get her. They pull out of the drive up and he puts on his blinker at the next light. 

“How was the party?”

“Ugh. I couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone in this world is so damn fake. And they all seem to want my attention,” she huffs.

“Home then?”

“No way. Are you hungry, Mr. Reyes?”

“I could eat.”

She perks up, sitting a little straighter in her seat. “Great! Take me to your favorite place.”

Robbie chuckles. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Well I like you so I’m sure I will.”

His stomach leaps into his throat. So he didn’t fuck everything up then. “It’s…not your type of place.”

She turns her head, her eyes studying him as he keeps his on the road. “Have you learned nothing about me, Mr. Reyes? Now drive.”

He smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

He drives across town to his neighborhood, pulling up to park in front of a diner. Neva looks around. “This is it?”

“Told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised your favorite is diner food.”

“And what would you know about diner food?”

“Oh ha-ha. I have eaten at a diner before.”

“Uh huh. How much did a burger cost?”

She punches his arm, fighting the smile that wants to come out. “Shut up.”

He opens the door for her, offering his arm when she goes to get out and she takes it, linking them together. 

“Ok so, this isn’t my favorite place. But that one is closed and this is my number 2.”

“You know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Hey, I don’t take just anyone to Bertha’s. They have the best burger in town.” He feels her hold him closer and at first he thinks it’s for the neighborhood, but one mental smack from the Rider and he sees that she’s cold. Taking off his formal jacket, he settles it across her shoulders and she cuddles into it. Robbie swears he sees her smelling it out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything. 

As they eat, she opens up more, their flow settling back into how things were. Little flirtations, her hand brushing his, her foot accidentally bumping into his leg over and over, her moaning when she tries the burger. Ok, that last one was just the way Robbie heard it but it counted. In his head, anyway. On their way out, she notices the graffiti on the side of the building next door. She stops, pulling him back by their linked arms to look at it. 

“That’s the Ghost Rider,” Robbie explains.

“Who?”

He launches into a generic explanation about the local legend of The Ghost Rider, how he has a flaming skull for a head and seeks vengeance on those who have done wrong. 

“And by vengeance you mean he kills them?”

He stiffens slightly. “Yeah.”

“Hhmm…”

“Most people think he’s a murderer.”

“No. I like him. We need justice where there is none.”

Robbie is speechless. No one has ever looked at the Rider like that, at him like that. And she doesn’t even know they’re connected. 

I like her, Robbie. Hold onto this one.

You just like her because she said she liked you.

They finish making their way around the back of the diner to the car, and Robbie leans over to open the door for Neva when she pulls him, facing her back to the car. 

“Thank you so much for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had since…well, probably ever.”

“Nah, it was my pleasure.”

She smiles at him, her eyes bright and inviting, making his skin prickle like a live wire. His body is growing warmer, and not from the Rider. She’s so close, her scent of strawberries and coconut filling his nose as she leans closer, her eyes darting down to his lips. He leans too and their foreheads meet, both of them breathing heavily as they stand there, the air around them crackling with tension. 

“Robbie,” she says it quietly, but it’s all he needs. 

Robbie’s hands come up to cup her cheeks, turning her head up to him as he presses his lips to hers, feeling her sigh, her body relaxing into him. He glides his tongue across her lips and she parts them instantly, silently begging him for more. His lips never leave hers as he puts a hand out, walking her backwards into the side of the car. Her fingers twist in his shirt, pulling him closer before she slides them around his broad back, trying to grip him anywhere she can. He drops his hand to the back of her knee and lifts it on his hip, her gasp breaking their kiss. He takes advantage of this, turning her head to the side and kissing the side of her neck, sucking on a spot just below her ear. She moans and Robbie gasps against her neck, feeling her skin pimple under his lips. 

But then she’s pushing him back and Robbie stumbles, his eyebrows furrowing together. Did he misread the situation? No, she wanted this as much as him… His brain goes fuzzy as he watches her walk around the car, gently setting her ass against the hood as she looks at him, her eyes wide and dark with want, her eyebrow arched, begging him to come closer. 

He’s there in less than 2 steps, hands cupping her face again as he brings his lips to hers, feeling warmth fan out from where they touch. His hands slide down her, taking in every curve of her body before he grips her ass, moaning slightly into her mouth before lifting her to set her on the hood of the car, her legs automatically opening and wrapping around him, trying to bring him closer. He leans her down, her back against the hood of the car as he continues to kiss her, lips soft and needy. Her fingers fumble at his belt line and he finally snaps out of it. Robbie pulls back and grips her wrist, looking down at her. 

“I…this is not…I don’t want our first time to be like this.” 

A smile crinkles up her eyes and Robbie feels it in his bones. “You’ve thought about us before? Our first time?”

“Oh, I think about you all the time, chica. I want the space and time to take you apart.”

She whimpers, his pants feeling a little tighter at the sound. “Fuck, Robbie. I want that too but right now, I don’t care about where we are. I want you. I need you.” Her eyebrows pinch up in question, fully leaving it up to him.

He smiles. “I can’t say no to you.”

He lays his body against hers, sliding his hand up her bare thigh while propping himself up with the other, his elbow leaning against the hood. He doesn’t kiss her, choosing to watch her expressions as his hand ghosts across her cool skin, disappearing under her mini dress. He ghosts his fingers across her underwear, chuckling when she jolts at his touch. Her fingers grip his forearms, nails trying to dig through the sleeve of his shirt as he draws light circles over her clothed cunt, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps. 

“Please,” she begs, voice barely above a whisper. Gently, he dips his finger under her pantyline, sliding it down her wet pussy, tracing light circles at her clit. “Oh!” She gasps, trying to hold back her sounds because they are in a parking lot. Robbie had completely forgotten their pretty public display. His hand stills and she huffs, her lip coming out in a pout. 

“Are you sure, chica? We’re pretty out here.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I need to feel you inside me, Robbbie,” She blinks up at him with a fire, not too different from the one he feels blazing behind his own gaze. “I won’t break.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Neva.”

Robbie sits back, fingers deftly opening his belt and pants just enough to pull himself out, groaning as his hard cock springs free. His skin is warm and he swallows hard, trying to get himself to cool down a bit. But then he sees her, moving her panties aside for him and, while he can’t see too clearly due to the lack of proper light, he can see that she’s fucking gorgeous, somewhere he will have to explore when he has the space to. Lining himself up, he looks down at her and pushes in, clamping a hand over her mouth when she lets out a high pitched, loud, moan, and it’s all he can do to not join her as she envelopes him, her heat wrapping around him perfectly, like she had been waiting just for him. When he bottoms out he waits, hips joined close together as she catches her breath. She looks up at him, pleasure radiating out from just her gaze alone, a gives him a nod. He pulls his hips back and slowly slides in again, groaning at the feel of her as he slots his hips against hers. He adds in an extra deep thrust and she cries out, trying to swallow her own moans as Robbie hones in on that spot, thrusting deep and hard against her. Neva starts to slide up the hood of the car, her dress doing nothing to hold her in place. Her fingers grip his sleeves, trying desperately to find something to hold her in place as Robbie continues to thrust into her. 

He’s about to stop, give her a moment to grab something when her hand shoots out, gripping the raised engine of his Charger. Instantly his skin heats, feeling like he’s about to catch fire at the sight of her digging her fingers into the metal, her other hand gripping his as he pushes it to the side of her head, knuckles clanking against the dark metal. His body is tingling and he shakes his head to clear it when he feels her raise her legs higher, digging her heels into his ass and lower back, trying to get him deeper. 

He growls, pressing a hard kiss to her lips before pulling out, grabbing her ankles and sliding her down the hood, her gasp turning to whimpers as he grabs her hips and flips her, pushing her chest down against the cool metal of the Charger. He pushes into her quickly, feeling himself warm instantly as he speeds his hips up, thrusting extra hard when he’s fully inside of her. Neva’s hands scramble across the car, looking for something to hold onto and she finds the engine again, using it to help her push back against him, bringing him slightly deeper than before. His skin is ablaze, his thoughts racing, mixing with the Riders as he fucks her, warning him mentally to back off, unsure how long he’d be able to keep him at bay when he’s worked up like this. 

Then she pulses around him, his name tumbling from her lips over and over as she cums, squeezing him tightly, trying to keep him inside of her. He feels his balls tighten, his skin starting to lightly glow and he grunts, cumming hard as his hips jut into her soft ass, his hands squeezing her hips to keep her in place. He keeps his eyes closed, feeling his release wash over him as he simultaneously tries to fight back the Rider, who does eventually back down. Robbie looks down at Neva, her back heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Still seated snuggly inside, he leans over and pushes the hair from her cheek, moving in to kiss her there. Instead, she turns her head more, finding his lips with her own, as if she were trying to keep him there a little longer. The kiss breaks and Robbie pulls out with a grunt, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I don’t know if I have anything to clean you up-”

She chuckles, cutting off his sentence. Sitting up, she sways and Robbie catches her, pulling her close. 

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind feeling you between my thighs.”

His ears are hot, silently begging the Rider to stay put. “I plan on spending a lot of time between your thighs.”

“Ugh how are you so fucking hot?” She pulls him down to her, her nails scraping against the back of his head, his arms wrapping around her. 

“You’re so warm,” she sighs, cuddling into him. 

“I run hot.”

“Yeah you do.”

Robbie drives her back home, but not before she tells him to pull over, hopping into his lap and riding him until they’re both screaming the others name. 

—----

The next few weeks are spent tucking themselves away from prying eyes, Robbie practically living between her legs, pulling every sound he can from her. It becomes a little easier to keep the Rider at bay while he’s buried inside of her, but he’s not sure if he can always hold him back, which terrifies him. Neva doesn’t know about the Rider, about his secret. Would she even accept him?

It’s his night off, Neva having some sort of engagement to go to, a car sent to pick her up. Robbie slides a bowl of mac and cheese across the table to Gabe, who picks at it with his fork. 

“What?” Robbie asks, a mouthful of mac and cheese.

“It’s nothing.”

“You too good for mac and cheese now?” He smirks, but drops it once he sees Gabe not smiling.

“Gabe?”

“It’s just…you always put hot dogs in it before.”

Robbie smiles softly, schooling his face as he stands up, grabbing his brother’s bowl. “Alright, your majesty. Would you like them cut in cubes or circles?”

Gabe punches him in the arm. “You’re an ass.”

—-

Robbie jolts awake, his phone ringing loudly as is vibrates on his nightstand. Rubbing his eyes, he quickly glances at the time - 1am. No good calls come this late. He feels the color drain from his face when he realizes it’s his work phone, the one that Neva calls. He picks up, hoping that it was just her letting him know she made it home ok. She had promised to do that.

“Hey, chica.”

She takes a moment to answer and Robbie straightens up, sensing something is wrong.

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” her voice is barely above a whisper, harsh and rough, not sounding at all like the whispers she presses into his ear when he’s buried inside of her. His phone pings but he ignores it.

“Where are-”

The phone clicks off, but not before he heard a yell from her, a terrified yell, a pleading yell. He glances down at the phone and sees she had dropped her location, a red dot pulsing up at him from the map. He grabs his jacket, jumping into the Charger, feeling the fire blaze in him.

If anything has happened to her, we will get justice.

“You got that right,” His eyebrows furrow together in anger, his foot pressing into the gas as he makes his way across town in record time. He pulls up to the gate of a large estate, the guard taking his time coming over to him. Robbie tells him he’s here for Neva and the guard lets him in, the gate sliding shut behind him. He pulls right up to the front door, his car angled for a quick getaway if needed. His skin is on fire as he opens the door, striding over to the front door, raising his fist to knock when he hears her scream, pleading with someone to stop. Without thinking he kicks open the door, taking several large steps inside towards her voice and the sound of something hard making contact with her skin, a scream coming out every time it slaps against her. When he enters the room he sees her on the floor, blood smeared across her as her body curls in on itself, shielding her face with one hand, the other outstretched towards the man towering above her, riding crop raised above him, begging him to stop. Robbie’s skin lights up, eyes turning to fire as his skin melts away, the Rider pushing his way out.

—-

Neva, Earlier That Night:

“You will attend the gala with Mr. Fortier and attend his party after.”

I nod, familiar with this game having been forced to play it my entire life. My dad says me attending these things with these men, powerful men as he says, helps his business endeavors, which in turn helps the family. That I need to do what I have to for the good of the family. 

Of course, he’s not the one to have to endure them.

Showing up, being glorified arm candy clutching to the sleeve of some powerful man or his son, having to discreetly slap away their unwanted touches without upsetting them, having people ogle you like you were just another pretty face, like you were just a piece of furniture, really wears on you. But what else can I do?

I never liked going to these events, showing up with these people, but especially now that I have Robbie, albeit secretly because there’s no way my father would approve of me being with “the help”. I despise them. I begged my father not to go but he wouldn’t hear of it, slapping me across the face when I initially said no. I dabbed on a little extra concealer to hide the redness from his palm and painted on a smile for Mr. Fortier. 

The evening progressed as they usually do. A gala meant a beautiful gown, one that was worth more than most people make in a year, hand holding onto the arm of the man of the evening, Mr. Fortier, as he smirks, loving the attention he gets showing up with me on his arm. His hand rests on my thigh under the table at dinner and it turns my stomach. He starts to squeeze, his nails digging into my skin slightly, so I discreetly place my hand over his, squeezing it back like I wanted to hold hands, choking back the bile that threatens to spew from my mouth as he gives me a smile. 

We dance, his hand sliding a little too low for my comfort so I ask him to spin me, just to get away from his touch for a moment. The money for whatever charity this gala was sponsoring was made, everyone cheering like they made their donations to actually help the charity and not just for the tax write-off. I scan the room, seeing many faces that I know my father has done business with behind closed doors, illegal things that I’m not supposed to know about but I’m too smart to not realize that my dad is not a good man. 

Mr. Fortier asks me into his house after the gala for drinks and I initially decline, wanting to get home and scrub this night from my body, but when he persists, I remember my father telling me I will attend his after party. So I accept, a fake smile on my lips as he takes my hand, leading me inside. Once he has me in the living room I sit at his request, watching him walk to to his drink cart, offering to make me a drink. I decline the offer, saying I had too much already and he shrugs, raising the glass to his lips. It’s when he’s drinking that it starts to sink in - the silence of the house, the lack of movement even from staff, nothing to indicate an after party. I don’t even remember him telling other people there’s one at his house. 

I feel the color start to drain from my face as I realize what might happen next. It’s happened before, my father delighted with the extra money he earned from me. I didn’t realize it at the time, certain that the men had actually cared for me as I did them, so it hurt even more when I realized they’d done it for money or whatever deal my father promised them. They were my age and we were young, I was naive, believing in love and falling for slick words and touches I’d never had before. When I found out, I confronted my dad, who initially denied everything. I wanted to believe he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t putting on a show by telling these men to fuck off. But several months later, I would see them leaving the house, shaking hands with my father. 

I’d confided in my nanny, who held me close and told me that something similar had happened to her, except it hadn’t been her choice like it was mine. But then she told me about a secret herb to put in their drink, basically to knock them out, and then I could set the narrative. I graciously took the herb and it had been successful. Whenever anyone got too handsy, I’d offer to make them a drink, lacing the liquid with a dash of the tasteless herb, feeling a little too triumphant when they slumped over just a minute later. 

But this time, it’s too late. He’s already had a drink, placing the glass back down on his cart as he makes his way back around the couch to me. If he senses that I’m on to him he doesn’t let on, and he may not. Oscar winning actors have nothing on me. He sits next to me on the couch, leaning back and putting his arm along the backside of the couch. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks, his eyebrows raised. 

I nod. “Of course. It’s always nice to have a fun time and raise money for charity.”

“That’s what I like about this particular gala. The money actually goes to the cause and not someone’s pocket.” 

An asshole with a conscience? That’s a first.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Fortier.” I glance at the clock on the wall, ornate filigray design set into the darkened wood. “Oh - it’s actually getting late. I need to be getting home.” I go to stand but he puts a hand out in front of me, preventing me from standing.

“You don’t have to go so soon, do you?”

I swallow down the scream that’s been echoing around my head and try to put on my best apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fortier, but I do.” I go to stand, but his hand doesn’t move. 

“How will you get home?”

“I’ll call a car.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll have one of mine drive you home. Give me a moment to call them.”

I nod, not comforted by his words. It’s the way he’s looking at me that’s making me feel icky, like I want to run from the house and not stop until I’m home. Or at Robbie’s. Do I even know where he lives?

“Please have a car ready for our guest…Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and I throw him a hopefully convincing smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fortier, for a fun night. I’m glad the fundraiser met its goal.” I move to stand when his hand tightens around my wrist, his ring digging into my skin. 

“Your father promised me your time after the gala. To do what I want.”

I look at him, trying to swallow down my fear and channel all of my confidence into my gaze. “Please let me go, Mr. Fortier.”

“I will get what I want.”

“Mr-”

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes across the quiet room, my cheek stinging with the contact as my head whips to the side. My hand instinctively comes up to my cheek, cupping it as I turn to look at him, his grip somehow tighter. 

“Please, Mr. Fortier, I don’t want-”

He shakes his head. “No, you stupid girl. I don’t want to have sex with you. I have other…desires that I need to release.”

I swallow hard, not really sure what he means, but trying to take solace in the fact that he’s not wanting to take me. 

“What -” My whole body is wrenched forward, face slamming against the hardwood floors as he throws me to the ground. He kicks me once, hard, and I nearly vomit, his dark chuckling getting louder as he squats next to me.

“Like I said, I have no interest in having sex with you. But putting marks on something so beautiful?” His finger graises my cheek and I flinch. “Well, that’s the fun we’re going to have tonight.” 

Pain. That’s all I know for what feels like forever, my skin splitting open open over and over, bones never quite breaking but on the verge of, hair being pulled from my scalp. He meant what he said. He never touches me sexually, never makes any indication of wanting that. I can feel myself in danger of blacking out, desperately trying to cling to consciousness despite my body wanting to shut down to ease the pain. After he throws me to the floor again, my body sliding across the floor, I hear him leave the room, telling me stay put. I lay there, feeling the cold floor slick with some of my blood, my brain screaming at me to run while I have the moment, but I know I wouldn’t make it far, and that it would be worse for me if I attempted it. Something digs into my side and I realize it’s my clutch, having fallen from the couch when I was initially thrown. Wincing at the pain, I grab it, sliding it across the floor to my head. I fish out my phone, keeping one eye on the open door as I blink at the screen, unable to make out any numbers. Luckily, I only need one. Pressing the speed dial slot 1, I wait, praying to whomever is listening that Robbie is awake. 

“Hey, chica.” 

I nearly break down at his voice, a light shining through the darkness I’ve been pulled in. 

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” I choke out, trying to be quiet but clear. I drop my location to him when I hear Mr. Fortier’s footsteps coming back into the room. 

“Where are-”

He grabs my ankle and I scream, eyes going wide as I see the riding crop held in his other hand, pleading with him to just let me go. I’m not sure how much time passes but in the back of my mind I hear him, the Charger, unmistakeable in its sound, pulling up to the house. Mr. Fortier doesn’t seem to notice, too involved in whatever sick pleasure he’s gaining from this as he raises the crop to me again and again. I cover my face, raising my arm out weakly to try and stop him, begging him to stop. 

And I feel him, Robbie, barging into the room, the last thing I see before passing out is his eyes, full of fire, blazing orange as he shifts, heat enveloping the room, somehow comforting me as I black out. 

—----

Neva:

I remember waking once since that night, very briefly, bright lights shining down into my face while gloved hands and a person in a white coat moves around me, poking and touching my skin where Mr. Fortier had left his mark. I remember my pulse speeding up and then he’s there, Robbie, holding my hand and pushing hair back from my face, telling me he’s got me, that I’m safe. Then I black out again. 

My eyelids flutter open and at first, I’m certain I’ve gone blind. But then my eyes adjust and I realize that I’m in a room, a bedroom, and that it must be night because the room is nearly pitch black, a quiet nightlight plugged in on the other side of the room, making just enough light to see the floor. As my brain catches up to me, I start to make out shadowy shapes from around the room, a taller one that must be a dresser, a smaller one that most likely held books or a tv. I’m in a bedroom, not a hospital room, and certainly not my own room. 

I slowly flex my fingers, making a fist and opening them back up against the sheets and I notice the weight next to me. Slowly, my head pounding slightly, I turn to look and see Robbie next to me, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, a quiet snore emanating from him. God, he’s beautiful. The man I trust most in this world. Actually, the person I trust most-

Wait. Did his head turn into a flaming skull? Was he Ghost Rider? That had to be a pain hallucination. Right?

He jolts awake, his eyes finding mine and, seeing that I’m awake, he sits up, shaking his head quickly to rid it of sleep.

“Hey, chica. How are you feeling?”

“Ok, I think.” My throat is raw and then he’s holding up a glass of water, a bendy straw sticking out of the top and holding it to my lips. 

“Small sips, ok?” I do as he says, the water helping to abate the raw feeling.

“How long?”

“Just a couple of days. I took you to a guy I know to get you checked out after you begged me not to bring you to a hospital.”

That explains the bright lights and white coat. 

“He said you’ll be fine, that nothing was broken but you’re severely bruised, several cuts needing stitches, and that you’ll be sore for a bit. I do have some pain meds here if you need them.”

“Did…did anyone look for me?” I say this already knowing the answer.

“I…no. Well, you got a text a day or so ago, but I didn’t look.” He leans back and grabs my phone off the nightstand, handing it to me. I unlock it, navigating to the text app and, sure enough, there’s the text from my dad.

Dad: You earned us an extra 7%. A job well done.

I roll my eyes, trying to swallow back the anger and bile in my throat as I hand Robbie back the phone. His eyes glance down at the screen where I’ve left the text up, his eyes almost glowing orange as his brow furrows together in anger. 

“What the fuck?” He asks, looking up at me. 

I try to sit up but my body screams at me, forcing me to stay put. He takes my hand, rubbing little circles into the back of it with his thumb. “It’s ok, Neva. Just stay put.”

I nod, taking a deep breath. And then I tell him everything, how my father treated me my entire life, how I was forced to wine and dine these men or their sons, how I was able to fight most of them off with herbs given to me by my nanny, how twice it had come to more than business and how stupid I was for believing those men, even though they claimed to love me still after I found out, but the trust had been broken. How I missed the chance tonight to give the herb to Mr. Fortier, how I’ve been hurt before but never like this. I don’t look at him when I tell him, but his hand never moves from mine, squeezing it harder with every detail I give him. By the end, I’m surprised to find tears on my face, Robbie reaching up to swipe them away for me. 

“So I’m not surprised no one is looking for me. My dad always sends an update text like this, that what I’ve done for the family was worth it. 7% though? If my dad saw me, he’d negotiate for at least 8%.” It was meant to be funny, trying to lighten the tension, but Robbie didn’t laugh. Or smile.

“Your dad is a bad man.”

I nod. “I’ve known that for quite a while, Robbie.”

“Why didn’t you leave the family then?”

That’s a loaded question. “I guess it was easier to stay. I was raised to do this, Robbie. By the time I’d realized how fucked up it was, my dad’s reach was far. I had no one, aside from my nanny whom he sent back to Russia. I trusted no one, resigned to my fate. And then…you. From day one you made me, no make me feel safe. Like someone cares about me, that I won’t just fade into nothing. You’re my hero, Robbie.” I finally chance a glance up at him, expecting a smile or something, but instead, I’m met with a guilty look, an undeserving expression on his face and he doesn’t look at me. 

“Robbie?”

“I’m not a hero.”

I squeeze his hand. “You are. You literally saved my life that night.”

He shakes his head. “That wasn’t me.”

I scoff. “It was you who walked through the door, saw me, and it was you who pulled me from that…wait was the house on fire?”

He’s quiet for a few minutes and I give him the space he needs. He shifts next to me, making sure I can see his eyes. 

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Not even my brother, ok?”

I try to move again, but my body retaliates, pain radiating out from where I moved. “I promise. You can tell me anything.”

“Just…know that I feel safe with you, that it’s you who saved me. I don’t deserve it. Don’t argue, just listen, ok?” He takes a deep breath. “I’m Ghost Rider. Well, he is in me.”

“...the guy with the flaming skull head, right?”

“That’s him.”

I let out a small laugh of relief and his eyebrows pinch together. “Why are you laughing?”

“No, it’s just…I saw you...well him? Right before I passed out and I thought for sure I was going crazy, that maybe I’d hit my head too hard. God, this is a relief!”

He studies me for several long moments. “I wasn’t expecting this reaction, you sure you’re ok?”

“I feel much better now that I know my brain isn’t severely addled.”

“I tell you that I turn into a murderous being with a flaming skull for a head and your reaction is ‘oh thank God I’m not crazy’?” The corners of his mouth tick up and then he’s full on smiling. “You’re loca, Neva.”

“Maybe. But you said he’s in you? I don’t understand. Are you not an inhuman then?”

Robbie watches me for a moment and then shakes his head. He launches into an explanation, about how he was out car racing when the Fifth Street Locos attacked his car, on a hit for his uncle, how Gabe, who had simply caught him leaving the house late at night and Robbie convinced him to come along, had a bullet lodged in his spine which means he’d never walk again. How he himself was flung from the Charger, body riddled with bullets, when a voice offered him revenge and he accepted, his body reanimating and healing. How he did seek vengeance, taking out not just that gang but other people too, the Rider coming out to burn them alive, that he only took out those who deserved it. That he did burn down Mr. Fortier’s house, after taking care of him himself, to make it look like an accident. 

“When I walked in and I saw him standing over you, I just lost it. The Rider too. That’s what you saw.”

I squeeze his hand harder, placing his palm on my chest. “Is that why you’re always warm?”

“Pretty much.”

“I stand by what I said before. You’re not a murderer, Robbie. You don’t kill innocent people. They deserve what they’ve gotten, I’m sure…Is it… could I talk to him?”

Robbie raises his eyebrows. “You wanna talk to him?”

“I just want to thank him personally for his part in saving me? If that’s ok.”

He watches me for a long time, like he’s having an internal conversation with himself and it dawns on me, he probably is. Just with the Rider.

“Ok.”

Robbie stands up, taking a step back from the bed, his bed, his eyes on mine. And then they’re blazing orange, like fire itself, his skin peeling back as the skull emerges, embers and flames raising from that face that holds my heart. The Rider stands there, lighting up the room as he turns his face down to me, flames licking out from where his eyes should be. 

“Thank you.”

He nods, a single nod before the flames were being extinguished, skin growing back piece by piece and then Robbie’s back, immediately coming to my side, hesitating in taking my hand.

“You ok, Neva?”

I nod. “Better, now that I get to see your face.” I grunt through a little pain to bring my hand to his cheek, fingers touching the spots where I know his freckles lay. Those freckles that are the death of me. 

“You’re after my dad, aren’t you?” It slips out, this thought I’d had once he told me about the Rider. And honestly, it all makes sense. He never seemed the chauffeur type. I just thought I had been lucky to find the one random, hot man driving one of my dream cars that actually wanted to drive people around in it. 

“Nev-”

“It’s ok. I know he’s my father, technically, but he’s never been my dad.”

“Will we be ok?” Even though the room is dark, I can see his eyes, wide and worried, eyebrows pinched together. I manage to slide my hand up to that spot, trying to smooth away that pinch with my fingers. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He visibly relaxes, sliding himself next to me and gently wrapping himself around me, his nose nuzzling in my hair as he inhales, all while I’m inhaling him where my face is against his broad chest. 

“Can you just…wait until I’m better?”

“Did you want to see him?”

“What? Oh no. I just want Nurse Robbie to take care of me.”

He chuckles and my head bounces slightly with it, the rumbling there lulling me back to sleep.

“Nurse Robbie is on duty.”

—----

3 months later…

Her dad was gone, the Rider had left his mark that day. Her mom had fled the country, taking every asset she could, seemingly leaving Neva with nothing. But of course, Neva was smarter than that, tucking money away for literally years, always using her dad’s credit when she needed something. She had more than enough to live comfortably the rest of her life, not filthy rich like before, but more than comfortable, eventually wearing down Robbie with her pleas of “just let me spoil you and your brother”. She’d gotten them a new place in a good part of town, pulling strings to get Gabe into a really nice school that would look great on his college applications. 

When Robbie insisted he stay at Canelo’s in order to stay in the know about what was happening, in case the Rider needed to come out, she followed him, surprising Canelo himself with her extensive knowledge of cars. Her presence attracted new customers, much to the delight of Canelo. 

But today was a slow day and her target was Robbie. 

“Would you just hand me the wrench already?” Robbie smiles, his hand outstretched as Neva clutches the wrench to her chest, an impish smirk on her face as she shakes her head.

“Come and get it.”

He chuckles, standing with a slight grunt as his muscles stretch. “Oh you wanna play, chica?” Robbie

He lunges towards her, hands outstretched, smile on his face and she squeals, trying to run with the wrench but it’s shape making it awkward. She drops it and slows momentarily, thinking Robbie would stop but then he’s there, covering her mouth as she squeals again, smiling into his gloved hand as he pushes her into the office, locking the door behind him before giving her his own version of teasing, her fingers twisting through his hair, his name a quiet chant on her lips, and Robbie knows there is nowhere he’d rather be. 

—----

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[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Ten

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Curse words, if that’s still a thing

Notes: Sorry this one is a little short, but I’ve got big ideas for upcoming chapters. Thank you guys for all the love so far, it means so much to me to hear your thoughts and see the notifications!

Word Count: 1900

Series Masterlist

• March 13th, 2005 • Cullen’s Garage •

Reader

Ever since Jasper and I left my house in a hurry, I felt like I’ve been stuck in a haze. Like none of this is real. And even though I snapped at him on the ride over, he’s respected my decision and kept me either within arm’s reach or a hand touching me in some form. It’s the only thing keeping me here in the moment while controlled chaos continues to explode in his family’s garage.

I feel deft fingers unzipping my, or rather Jasper’s, jacket and sliding it from my shoulders. I grab at the hands to stop them, but it’s Jasper himself.

“I need to give it to Esme, for her to lure him with your scent. I also need your hat, sweetheart.” He explains gently.

I release his hands and nod, allowing him to take the articles from me. I shiver without his jacket to keep me warm and he immediately replaces it with a different hoodie, this time slipping it over my head.

“Another one of mine that I don’t mind letting you borrow.” He winks at me and it draws out a smile from me. I feel at home cocooned in his scent.

On the other side of Carlisle’s car I hear Edward arguing with Rose about carrying Bella’s scent. Emmett squeezes past us to throw some supplies in the backseat of his Jeep and turns to me.

“Be safe, Y/n/n?” I nod and he turns to his brother, “Take care of her and watch your back, alright tough guy?”

“Likewise, big guy.” Jasper replies, pulling him in for a quick hug with a smile before parting and opening the passenger door for me. Bella and Alice already waiting in the rear as I climb in and buckle up.

• March 14th, 2005 • Outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona •

Reader

The entire trip south was a blur, what I assume normally is a two to three day trip, took us one day with minimal time for bathroom breaks and gas stops. Me being the designated one to refuel the car during the day since our protectors couldn’t exit the vehicle and Bella spent the majority of the ride in and out of sleep. I was grateful for the temporary duty, it felt like I was actually being helpful instead of sitting and waiting for something to happen, which I know might very well be my fate once we make it to Phoenix.

“All done, darlin’?” I shake myself from my day-dream, Jasper had cracked his driver’s side window and I meet his eyes in the side-view mirror.

“Oh shit-sorry.” I quickly put away the pump and screw the gas cap back on before hurrying back to the passenger side.

“You alright?” He asks quietly, giving me a sidelong glance as he directs the car back to the interstate.

“Mhmm.” I answer him, looking out of the window at the passing cars.

I feel a small hand slide onto my shoulder and give it a squeeze before it retreats to the back seat, Alice. I’m not really sure how to feel at this point, I mean - I am happy that Jasper is with me, lord knows I’d be a nervous mess worrying about him. But I can’t help it thinking of the others, Esme wearing my scent and Rose wearing Bella’s. Edward is the fastest and with his ability to read minds, he’s formidable. Carlisle is an extremely smart man and I know Emmett is strong for a normal vampire, but is he stronger than vampires that drink human blood? I shiver, human blood. The vampires after Bella and I want our blood. Just as I’m about to spiral down a path of panic for fear of not being able to protect myself, a large hand slides over my left thigh.

Raising his eyebrows in concern, Jasper gently smooths his gift over my panic to calm me down and combined with the distraction of his hand, it works. I don’t know what I would do without him, it’s like fate knew I couldn’t digest his world without his ability to control emotions. So I give him a sad smile and slide my hand on top of his, with him I can do this - we could do this.

• March 15th, 2005 • Hotel - Phoenix, Arizona •

Jasper

Alice and I picked a hotel for the four of us close to the international airport in Phoenix so that we might have an additional means of escape. That also puts us in the middle of a metropolitan area. Nowhere near a forest.

Nowhere near our food source.

And I’m confined to a room for who knows how long with my singer after having spent 24 hours with her in a car.

Yet another test of my precarious control.

Thankfully I fed myself before the baseball game and under normal circumstances I could go a little over a week until I needed another meal… but I exerted myself trying to mask the energy signatures surrounding the women in our group to the nomads to make them uninteresting. And staying in this room watching over the girls doesn’t help either.

“You won’t hurt them.” Alice tells me from her watchful position at the window, early morning light peaking in the crack in the curtains held open by her slender hand.

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” Taking calming breaths is a human technique, one that would increase the inferno in my throat. Meditation is all that can offer a modicum of peace, a skill I wish came easily.

I can feel her eyes assess me, even though my own are closed in concentration. “I can get us an adjoining room-”

I cut her off and crack an eye open, “And be further away? Absolutely not, I’d much rather suffer through hunger than adding a barrier from protecting you three for my comfort.”

“I’m not incapable of defending myself or the girls.” Her sharp tone makes me wince, so I give her my attention fully.

“I meant no disrespect… I know you are fully capable, but she is mine, Alice.” Surprise colors her emotions.

“She is your singer?” My sister questions in a gasp.

“You didn’t see that coming?” I joke with her, leaning back on the couch to stare at the ceiling.

She smacks my shoulder, “You know I’ve been preoccupied with Edward’s predicament with Isabella. The guy is as paranoid as they come!”

“I only figured it out Saturday, so it’s not like I’ve been sitting on the news for very long.” A sigh deflates my chest, “I haven’t told her.”

“You’ll find the right time when this is all over.” Her smile would be reassuring if I didn’t have the ability to sense the uncertainty in her emotions.

Reader

I spent all day yesterday sleeping while occasionally texting my mom to check in. I passed off another lie that we were just waiting on her mom to get here from Florida and that I’d be staying with Bella for a few days until then. I hope the others catch the nomads soon, I hate lying to my mom and I’m running out of material that’s legitimate enough to keep her placated.

The worry drags me from my shared bed with my friend, Alice got us a suite but with only one bed so our locations wouldn’t be spread thin. Fine by me, I wouldn’t be able to stand a room to myself just waiting.

Exiting the bedroom into the sitting room, I spot only Jasper with no Alice in sight.

“She’s acquiring food for you two, the lobby has free breakfast and the sun has barely risen.” He explains, lowering the newspaper in his hands.

I sit sideways on the couch facing him with my legs tucked in close, far enough away that I’m not touching him. Our confined situation mustn’t be easy on him and I don’t want to add to the difficulty, but I’m like a moth to his flame.

“Did you get enough sleep? I heard you tossing and turning.” A strong hand reaches up to gently run along the indentions my pillow made on my cheek, not the most attractive thing to wake up with in the morning.

“I’m fine, just restless and worried.” I caress the hand on my cheek and lean into it.

His brows furrow slightly, “You’re safe here with Alice and I-”

“No-no, I’m worried about Esme, Rose, your whole family, mom…” I glanced down at my lap and pick at the seam of my shirt, well actually Jasper’s shirt-I did a pretty shit job of packing and he let me borrow one of his to sleep in - I’m trying to not think about that too hard.

“My family can handle themselves, we’ve survived this long for a reason.” Jasper reassures me calmly.

“Yes, but protecting Bella and I has pulled you and Alice away from them-“

“And they’ll be alright. Besides, I have what they want and we’re across the country.”

“If they get angry and-and hurt one of them…” I can’t finish my sentence, anything happening to any one of them for my sake is too much to consider.

Jasper pulls me in for a hug, turning me so that I’m sitting in his lap with my face pressed to his neck and his hands rubbing my back soothingly. “Sweetheart, there’s more of us than them and we have more gifts, the odds are stacked in our favor. Especially with Alice-“

Just then the aforementioned vampire sweeps gracefully into our hotel room with a stack of to-go containers. “My ears were burning, do continue.” She teases us with a sweet smile as she sets the food before us on the coffee table.

“Jasper was just telling me there’s no point in worrying when we have a badass like you on our team.” I wink at her before opening a container with a waffle and bacon, cooked exactly like I prefer.

“You seemed like a soft bacon kinda girl,” I chuckle at her, amazed at her predictive skills. “I’ll go wake Bella.”

As she dances through the bedroom door, I slide out of Jasper’s lap and to the floor next to him, leaning against the couch I dig into my food. “It really is a shame you can’t eat, I’d miss bacon entirely too much if I were a vampire.”

“Something you’ll never have to find out, darlin’.” He chuckles as he goes back to reading the paper, but his words don’t quite sit right in my stomach.

Never have to find out? I suppose I hadn’t really thought of that. One day I’ll be old and wrinkly, meanwhile he will always be this, always be young. My appetite begins to shrink at the thought. Fuck - one day he won’t want me, I’ll be old and-

The newspaper rustles, “What-”

But Alice and Bella walk through the door and cut him off before he could ask what was bothering me.

I don’t even know what I’d say.

That I don’t like the idea that we’re on opposite ends of the mortality spectrum? That I won’t have forever with him? That I might be falling in love with him and I’ll just have to get over it at some point and let him go?

Wait-falling in love with Jasper Hale?

Shit.

Next

[kaiyunsim]

HEARTS IN THE MARGINS — chapter 9 : jay’s jacket

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written : (~700 words)

Seeing jake’s message gave you a sense of urgency, now rushing to pack things you would need for the performance. As you finish up, zipping your small pouch, you run out the door to make it to your nearest bus stop. Not knowing what's wrong you feel that the bus would be too slow so you decide to call a taxi. You just text your friends to pick you up at jake’s place and sends the address.

When the taxi arrives you check again, wondering how much time has passed. 10 minutes. sweat starts to bead onto your forehead, he doesn’t usually text like this.

You arrive at jake’s place, running up the stairwell, and down to his door. You take a moment to gather yourself together after running for what feels like a mile. Once you are presentable, you knock on the door.

Quickly, you get a response. The door swings open and a boy with the smile that could never leave your head, “y/n! perfect,” jake says with his iconic aussie accent. He gently grabs your wrist and pulls you in and you start to tumble but regain your balance.

“hey jake, what did you need?” you ask, wanting to cut it to the chase.

He looked confused and then remembers, “oh yeah, do you remember where you put jay’s jacket?” he asks, trying to sound normal to mask his worry.

That’s right. you were the last one to touch it. You just thought it looked good and wanted to try it on even though jake said it wasn’t his. You look down slightly, trying to recall where you last put it. Fuck. if you weren’t so into that conversation earlier with jake you probably wouldn't have forgotten. Then again, he did call you cute when you wore it so you guess it was worth it. After what feels like forever, and after circling around the place, you finally remember where it is. You look up to jake who now has a small pout and slight dog eyes hoping you actually know where it is. “holy shit, you’re so cute” you mumble, but it ends up being loud enough for jake to hear.

His eyes widen, and a small blush appears on his face. Trying to clean up the awkward silence you caused, you bring up your response to his question, “so i remembered it was in your car,” you say, averting his eye contact. You accidentally kept it on that one time and when you was driving you home you forgot to take it off at his place so you took it off in his car.

jake goes outside and into the driver's seat. seeing him search desperately, you want to help as well so you head into the passenger’s seat. You look at his for a second, looking like a dog searching for his lost ball. he was so fucking cute. You guys clear out the front side of the car when you feel something under the seat. after dragging it out it was the cute, expensive jacket that belonged to the friend of jake’s. jake looked at you with a huge smile, one that made you feel warm inside.

“oh. my. god. thank you y/n,” jake says, reaching out to grab it. after he reaches out, his face got really close to yours. his beautiful immaculate face. You blush as he reaches for it, how could you not? but not only did you blush though, you also freeze up, keeping your grip on the jacket as he tugs on the jacket. He looks at you, laughing as you realize and actually let go of the jacket. That was fucking embarassing.

“sorry” you apologize timidly, once again avoiding his gaze. you take a peak at jakes reaction for a second to which you see him giggling and laughing at the absurd situation that happened.

“god you’re so cute,” jake says nonchalantly.

“i like you y/n”

Suddenly, headlights start appearing, with music blasting. it was your friends, and before you could respond to what jake said, you check the time and realize you will both be late. “shit, meet you there, y/n”.

“yeah, i’ll see you there,” you respond in a rush, getting out of his car and into minji’s.

Now you are left with your thoughts, thoughts of a cute aussie boy.

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a/n : HEY GUYS i hope this chapter is fun ! I LOVE JAKE SIM ! anyways i made this all in like one sitting so i hope it’s good. like all the motivation cane in after that ask (ty for enjoying everyone!)

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[mysouleaten]

' DOC AND BOSS ' [part one] [REMASTERED]

mafia boss! izana x doctor! reader

summary ... finding an injured member of the tenjiku yakuza hiding in an alleyway beside your apartment.. you decide to help!... not knowing he's the one in charge..

warnings ... bullet wound, izana is a bit snappy right now, fluff?, author trying to put their somewhat good writing skills to use..

an ... THIS IS AN EDITED VERSION OF CHAPTER ONE!!... sooo this was inspired by DEAD GIRL'S BEACH by @kokoch4n3l but this fic is a lot more fluffy... lol

[DOC AND BOSS masterlist]

tenjiku was one of the biggest yakuza's that ran tokyo--they were second compared to toman

but still one of the biggest when it came to land and property.. and one of their properties was your apartment complex-- your home

most who lived in this apartment building paid their bills to tenjiku, as they were the ones who kept this building from being destroyed by the government and replaced by some fancy work company.. and also leading you to being homeless..

you were very grateful for the fact they protected this apartment building... it was the cheapest and the closest to your job and university

around 8:45pm you finally were able to leave your job and drive back in the rainy night, ready to get in your comfy pj's and watch crime moves for the rest of the night and maybe order some yellow rice and soup to eat while you watch....! yeah that sounds nice

finally parking in front of your building and having a look outside the car window to see the harsh rain pouring down

you can only imagine how cold it is outside your warm car... and how wet too..

looking behind your driver's seat and reaching for your umbrella to fight back against the pouring rain from soaking you to your very core

"alright.. let's just hope I don't get completely soaked through.."

quickly opening the car door and rushing to open the umbrella over your head, shutting the door and pressing onto your car key to hear the 'beep!' of the car locking

blowing a warm breath you start to carefully walk towards the stairs that lead to your apartment, careful not to slip and bust your ass on the pavement in the process..

but hearing a loud groan made you freeze in place and hearing another louder groan over the rushing rain made you tense again but you quickly walked up the stairs and ran into your apartment... you weren't risking any crime movie shenanigans..

putting your bag down onto the bench under the coat hanger and turning your head towards the door as the.. guilty conscience starts to eat you up from the inside

what if someone was in need of help? you're not taking classes to be a doctor for nothing..!

you groan in annoyance and throw your white coat on the floor before taking the raincoat hanging on the coat hanger and quickly putting it on

slamming the door behind yourself and cussing out: "I hate being a damn doctor..! hate having a good heart..to help others! damn!"

hugging your waist to fight the cold that the rain is giving off and carefully walk down the stairs to your doom

"hopefully it's just the fucking wind and no one is actually here so I can go take my ass upstairs and--" cutting your rant short when turning the corner and seeing someone laying on the muddy ground

drenched and shivering the person was also groaning in pain

"crap.." you whisper and slowly begin to walk toward the person still being cautious and mindful of who this person you were going to help was

crouching down, careful to not touch the muddy water below

examing the man who was shakily breathing through his mouth and scrunching his eyes shut

his white long hair was muddied up and drenched

you looked down to see him holding his abdomen--blood was soaking his uniform, he was wearing the uniform of a tenjiku member!!... craaaaaap...

quickly pulling your phone out of your pocket and covering it from the rain you dial the number for an ambulance but a rough hand grabs your wrist and tries to yank the phone out of your hand "ACK!!" letting out a loud yelp

you stood up--yanking your wrist out of his grasp, and letting your phone drop near the man

you glared down at the man but quickly your breath was taken away by his eyes --which were a beautiful shade of lavender and they were staring daggers right into your own.. but they softened? when his gaze met yours

swallowing the built-up saliva in your mouth "you've been shot.. you need to go to the hospital" voice a soft whisper

he shakes his head against the wet concreate "..no..."

no? this man really wants to suffer with a bullet then..

"you-" "you..help me" the man cuts you off

"what!? wait- no! I can't! I don't have the-" your rambling gets cut off with a soft but desperate cry from the man

were you really going to drag a muddy wet mafia man up the stairs and into your apartment?..

you nervously look off to the side again as the white-haired man has been staring at you consecutively for the past couple of minutes after his 'removing bullets' procedure, you'er even surprised he's still awake after that

he's lying on his back with towels beneath him soaking up the dirty water that dripped off of him, bandages wrapped around his entire abdomen and he was facing towards you with a soft but blank? expression, like he was trying to hide everything behind his face and not give you a clue of what he's thinking..

he would shiver once in a while from the cold and you weren't so sure if you wanted to get him a blanket.. and get it soaked muddied up.. maybe you should towel him off properly before getting him a blanket? that sounded like a plan!

"im going to go and get another towel to pat you dry so I can put a blanket over you, please- please don't get up or move around, ok?" you stated

he slowly moved his head in agreement "alright- uh- I'll make you some warm food too- any preferences?" you ask

"no, anything will be alright, just get me out of the cold" he growled

you stood up briskly and rushed to find a towel and bedcover for him before he decided to stop playing nice

coming back minutes later and thankfully he didn't try to move anywhere, wandering to him and crouched down on your knees

"ok, I'll towel you off quickly!.. then you can have the bedcover and I'll get some pain medicine for you, also to try to get some rest, your body needs it...badly" you rambled to him

he didn't say anything back but the look on his face told you to 'get on with it'

jeez...what did you get yourself into...?

an ... OK! i edited some parts in and out and extended the ending! boom!! now I have to edit the masterlist and everything should be good! yaaaaaaaay!!

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[SORRY FOR TAGGING YOU SO MUCH, IM TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHY SOME ARE NOT BEING TAGGED :( ]

[strayshornystuff]

An encounter with… slime?

(Warning: this short story is a fetish story, that makes use of transformation and other, strange kinks that idk if they’re named. You have been warned!!)

I got to the door, breathless, ready to have a go at whatever kid had been ding-dong-ditching me for the past hour. But to my surprise, there was a delivery driver, with a small, unmarked cardboard box in his hands. He looked at me funnily until I caught my breath, but once I’d explained, and he’d had a small laugh, package was signed, driver thanked, and box placed on the nearest bench I could find. Which happened to be my coffee table in the living area (hardly a room; a mix of the kitchen, the living room, and the entryway). I plop down, taking my first, proper look at the parcel. The only problem is, the only label on it being my address, no sender, no logo, not even my name as the receiver of the parcel. ‘Oh well,’ I think out loud, sharing with the ghost of the room, ‘if I open it, maybe I can figure out who sent it? Or maybe see if it was a mistake?’

Obviously, no response sounds. I had more than once gone about screaming in the room, talking about my latest break up, or just ranting about something ridiculous, in my thinking out loud process, so part of me was glad there wasn’t actually any ghosts that could hear me. But nonetheless, I grabbed the shears from the kitchen and precisely slid the blade through the tape, allowing the box to present what it had been holding… a… erm… ‘what is this?’ I caught myself muttering. There was what looked to be a corked vial with a silvery block of… something…inside. Reaching for the vial, feeling the cool glass quickly warming at my touch, something strange happened. The solid block inside the vial had become liquid, and was moving around inside the glass, leaving nothing behind on the surface.

‘Oh, it’s gallium!’ I realised. My friend who majored in chemistry had pulled a trick on me one night, asking if I could hold a rare coin for him. Fuck, the stress I felt seeing it melt in my hands… clever bastard, nonetheless. Seeing as it was harmless, I immediately uncorked the vial, and poured it out onto my hand.

It wasn’t gallium.

The moment it had touched my hand, I could tell that something was wrong. First, it felt quite heavy, like slime, or honey, but it wasn’t sticky. Second, it instantly started expanding, spreading, coating my hand in a thick layer of whatever it was, and started sliding up my arm. Clawing at the substance with my spare hand, I felt most of it slip right through the gaps between my fingers, before the slime started to move along that arm too, creeping under my clothes. The goo was fast, alive, and… warm, and… soothing. I could feel my muscles relaxing, a pleasant sensation prickling the skin where it touched, as it started to crawl onto my shoulders, connecting across my back, pulling over my… ‘ooooouuuuhhhhh~’ I hear myself moan as the slime found my chest, and the pleasure it had been providing me was now coupled with making my skin so much… more fucking… sensitive…

The silvery menace wasn’t done with me yet. The creature started to embrace the lower half of me, creeping down along my tummy. ‘Oh~!’ Gently sliding over my thighs… ‘Mmmm~’ Creeping over my soles… ‘G-hhaaa…’ And as if it had been saving it for last, swiftly closing the gap it had left along my legs, and coiling into a long, tentacle-like appendage, wriggling slightly, hovering just above my… Fuck. ‘Oooaaahhhh~~!’ I couldn’t help but cry out in pleasure as the slime stuck itself inside of me, and started to move around, in and out, twisting inside of me, gently seeking its way deeper inside…

I couldn't help but lay there, whining and squeaking as the slime kept slowly thrusting in, and out, of me, making everything it touched more sensitive, pleasuring me more and more, and occasionally, it would throb slightly, the pulse gently expanding my hole, moving inside of me, and adding to the growing, writhing, sensual party the slime was having in my tummy. My legs and arms would have been squeezed together, flexing, in a reflexive attempt to take a break from the pleasure. That is, if it weren't for the fact that the slime would resist any movement of my own will, and even gently kept forcing my legs to open, my arms to lock above my head, forcing me to present myself to the empty room.

My whole body was now coated with the slippery, firmly attached goo, except for my head. But the slime must have wanted me to be completely submissive, because not even 5 seconds after the monster, creature, whatever it was had penetrated me, I felt it creeping over my head, and another tentacle gently slid into my open, moaning throat. The slime’s ability to heighten my senses in some must have dulled it in others, because my gag reflex was gone, and the tentacle slid further in, feeling places inside me I had never felt before. The ultimate deepthroat experience, being fucked at my other end by the same slime, a gooey spit roast that I was powerless to stop. The goo that had crawled over my mouth had one final area to cover, and with my mouth and nose sealed off, it slowly crept over my eyes, absorbing the tears it had fucked out of me already, and I watched as the last glimmer of light closed off, leaving me in darkness with nothing but pleasure to hold on to. I lay there, in the darkness, cumming over and over, feeling the slime on every outside part of me, and most of my insides too. Despite the slime filling my throat and lungs, I never felt like I was suffocating, nor hungry, nor thirsty. I lost track of time, with my limbs helpless to do anything against the slime, unable to feel anything but it continuing to fuck me, filling me more and more, my tummy expanding slightly to try and accommodate, my gut flexing with every orgasm, my brain slowly forgetting anything but this feeling.....

After some, indescribable amount of time, however, something changed. I saw light. I woke up slowly, surprised I had even fallen asleep with how badly I was cumming, and looked around. I was in the same clothes I hand been when the whole ordeal had started, the box and vial were in the spots where they had been forgotten, but something was different. A thin, layer of dust lay on top of them, and everything else, as I would quickly notice. How long had I been under the spell of that creature? Conveniently, my phone buzzed, reminding me of the existence of the world beyond my room’s walls, and sure enough, when I checked, I had about 8 missed calls, mostly from my job. The date was three days further ahead than it should have been. That slime had made the days worthwhile though, that couldn’t be denied… shit, where is it? I look about, unable to locate it initially, until I see a shine out of the corner of my eye. I look down at my wrist, and sure enough, there was a small silver band that looked like a tattoo, stuck to my skin. I rubbed it gently, and sure enough, it latched gently for a moment, but let my hand go when I pulled back slightly. That’s when I heard it in my head. ‘I mean, I guess I had fun…’ ‘When can we again? So soon? I don’t know…’ ‘Well that’s all well and good, but I don’t fully know who you are yet!’ And so, began an interesting relationship, with a parasitic slime that had technically raped me, apologised, and was now being respectful… I had died in a house fire in the building a few years before this weirdo moved in, and had heard them rant about some strange things, like ‘Light contraction’ and ‘Respect being all out of whack.’ But I had just borne witness to them getting swallowed by a tiny piece of slime that wasn’t so tiny, lie there making lewd sounds for three days, and suddenly get up and start talking to their wrist. Fuck this ghost shit, I’m out of here…

If you’ve gotten this far, you probably read all that! If you liked it, I’m glad! If there was something I could have done better though, please let me know, I’m trying to improve my creative writing. Sorry for the weird kinks, except not bc we don’t kinkshame, and see y’all next time.