#and i noticed this last year but she started to brush my shoulder or back when she walks past me and says hi

[sunshinehaze1]

Too Sexy for This

Pairing: Javi P x wife!reader

Summary: You’ve been encouraging Javi to refresh his 70s wardrobe. He decides 1994 will be the year he finally makes the change, but is this a resolution he can keep?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. post-s3 Javi. established relationship, smut, oral (m), unprotected PiV, creampie, reader has hair that can be pulled into a messy bun

a/n: this was written for @beefrobeefcal New Year, Same Peña Challenge. I’m so sorry I’m late to post, but I wanted to throw it into the void anyways. obvs “posting on time for fic challenges” was NOT one of my NY resolutions.🫣 Thank you @80ssong for the beta! ❤️ I hope you enjoy! Fun Fact (maybe?): the runner-up for my fic title was “JCPena” 😏

word count: 2,889

ao3 | ml

Javi watches as the mirrored ball descends in Times Square, the cheers of the crowd echo on TV, and Dick Clark officially proclaims the start of 1994—a year brimming with opportunity and fresh beginnings. You and Javi chose to enjoy a relaxed evening at home to ring in the new year. Work has been particularly taxing for both of you and late nights navigating rowdy drunk crowds lost their charm long ago. 

You've already passed out, sleeping for the last hour or so with your head resting in Javi's lap. He gently brushes your hair away from your face and whispers sweetly in your ear, "It's time for bed, baby." 

Javi helps you settle into bed, and you quickly fall back asleep. He isn't as fortunate. Thoughts race through his mind about his intentions and resolutions for the new year ahead. Reflecting on conversations you've had with him regarding his "dated" wardrobe and the need to "refresh" it to be more "on-trend," Javi scoffed, dismissing the idea that his current style of tight bootcut jeans, collared shirts, yellow aviators, corduroy blazers, and Members Only bomber jackets wasn't still fashionable. 

He feels confident in his clothes; they worked for him in Colombia and in attracting you. When you first met Javi, you always commented on how tight his jeans were and how sexy he looked. Why does he need to change how he dresses now? Just because we're in a new decade, and fashion magazines dictate what's in and what's out? Nevertheless, your encouragement was persistent. Your stubbornness was something he loved about you; you challenged him. 

With six years to go until the new millennium, Javi decides to take the plunge and revamp his wardrobe. What matters most is that It will make you happy. Happy wife, happy life. 

The next day, Javi finds himself at the mall, navigating the JCPenney clothes racks. As he sifts through silk button-ups adorned with abstract patterns in rich jewel tones and coordinating pleated baggy pants, he pulls a few outfits from the rack and heads to the fitting rooms. 

One by one, he tries on each outfit. They all conceal his slim frame. The flow of the shirts cascades over his broad shoulders, billowing at the waist with the excess fabric tucked into his pants. A shiny leather belt highlights his waist. He examines himself in the mirror, turning left and right to inspect the outfit from every angle. The pants make his lower half appear like a balloon. Javi shakes his head. How is this fashionable?

He tries on the last few outfits, still unsure whether this style suits him. However, he'll give it a try for your sake. Hesitantly, Javi gathers the outfits. As he heads to the cashier, he pauses at a rack of sunglasses and selects a pair of wire-framed glasses with oval lenses. He figures he might as well go all in.

As he approaches the register, the young woman's eyes scan Javi's body. His shirt buttons strain at their limits, and his jeans cling to his hips, revealing a prominent outline of what lies hidden beneath the coarse fabric. Somehow, in 1994, this '70s style suits him. She wonders why he's buying all these loose-fitting clothes. Then she notices the gold band on his left hand; it all makes sense now. You assume his wife must have encouraged him to update his wardrobe. With a friendly smile, she greets Javi, "Did you find everything you needed today?" 

"Yes, thank you. I just hope my wife approves," he jokes.

You greet Javi as he walks through the door with his hands full. You finished your errands an hour ago and were surprised to find the house empty. Reading the store branding on the bags, "Sooo," you tease, "What were you up to today?" 

"I thought I'd finally get with the times." He lifts the bags up with a shrug.

You chuckle and lean in for a soft peck on the lips, "Alright then, show me what you got!"

You follow Javi into the bedroom, where he sets the bags down on the bed. He takes out each item, holding them against himself. You nod in approval for every piece. Anticipation builds as you look forward to seeing how the clothes will fit him, thrilled that he has finally embraced contemporary styles. 

Just a couple of weeks into the new year, Javi still isn't sold on this change. He's been working at a private firm since retiring from the DEA and his co-workers have been giving him shit, surprised that he's made such a drastic shift. He's starting to sense that you aren't as thrilled with his new wardrobe, either. 

Usually, you can't keep your hands off each other. You practically jump on him the moment he walks in the door; you rarely go more than two days without being intimate. But it's been nearly two weeks since he's had you, and he's beginning to think you no longer find him as attractive.

He sighs and contemplates whether this resolution is a good idea; he's trying so hard to stick to it. "I am NOT a quitter!" he thinks to himself. He steels himself with the same grit and determination that helped him take down the Cali Cartel, and he's sure he can see this through. 

Another week and a half passes, and Javi isn't sure how much more he can handle. His confidence is shattered. His coworkers aren't taking him seriously. He isn't receiving the attention he craves from you. When he asks you if everything is okay, you brush him off with the cliché excuse that you're "just tired." 

You feel guilty; after all, this was your idea. However, you know Javi is stubborn and doesn't give in easily, but these baggy clothes just don't work for you or him. They look great on the models in fashion magazines, so you thought they'd suit Javi as well. But his build is better suited for 70s fashion. His lean frame, broad shoulders, and tapered waist deserve denim that hugs his hips and thighs so tightly that he has to forego underwear. 

You can tell his confidence is at an all-time low—something you've never seen in your man before. You miss your cool and confident Javi. It's time to talk to him so he knows he no longer has to keep up the charade and decide to bring it up over dinner. 

"Baby, I know you're not into this new wardrobe." 

Javi doesn't want to let you down. "No, no, it's fine. I'm just still getting used to it." 

"Javi, it really isn't your style. I appreciate you making the effort, and I'm sorry I pushed you so hard to change."

Your admission relieves Javi, who wasn't sure how much longer he could tolerate this ridiculous wardrobe. Not only did it shake his confidence, it impacted his swagger. He felt as if he walked more slowly, the resistance of the billowy pants and tops hindering him. 

The following day, Javi returns to his old wardrobe, thankful that he did not get rid of anything. He packs the new clothes and drops them off at the donation center on his way to work, hopeful they'll find a new home. 

You're lying on the couch reading the latest issue of Cosmo when Javi walks through the door. You've been busy reading up on the latest ways to satisfy your lover in bed—storing away ideas to try with Javi. When he enters the room, you peek over the couch and see that your old Javi is back. Since you left the house before him this morning, you hadn't seen what he wore to work today.

Your gaze travels up and down his body, landing on his bulge, visible and on display for you in his tight jeans. Oh, how you've missed it. Your mouth starts to water, and Javi catches you staring, "My eyes are up here, honey." He winks.

Lifting your gaze to meet his eyes, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and admire your handsome husband. How you ever thought he'd look better in anything other than the clothes he feels the most comfortable in is something you could kick yourself for. 

The hunger in your eyes sends warmth up his body, and his cock twitches in his jeans. He walks over to the front of the couch to get a better look at you. You're wearing his DEA t-shirt, which has been washed and worn so often that it's practically tissue-thin. Your perked nipples protrude through the fabric. You may as well not have bothered with the soft shorts you have on, which barely cover your shapely thighs. You are a vision with your hair in a messy bun, tendrils falling along your temples. 

You sit upright to take him in, placing your hands on his hips as he stands between your legs. With an eager smile, you slip your fingers into his belt loops and pull him down toward you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. You let out a muffled whimper when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. The kiss is so intense that it knocks Javi off balance, causing his knees to buckle and him to collapse on top of you. You both burst into laughter as he shifts his weight onto his palms, sinking into the couch cushion to avoid crushing you. 

In a fervor, you pull him closer to you, comforted by his weight. He begins to grind his hips into you, your slick arousal sticking to your shorts as his cock grinds into your core. His length strains against the front of his jeans. Beads of precum coat the zipper's teeth without the barrier of underwear. You move your hands down his body to unfasten his jeans and release his cock from the rough confines. Swiping the precum that leaks from his tip, you coat his thick head and slowly slide the foreskin up and down. With his eyes fluttered shut, his head lolls back, emitting a heavy groan. The ministrations of your delicate fingers along his most sensitive area overwhelm him, especially after weeks of not experiencing your touch.

He peppers your cheek and nose with kisses while one hand travels underneath your shirt, lifting it enough to expose your gorgeous tits. He cups the soft mounds in his palm and captures your hardened buds between his fingers, tweaking them gently, making you squirm at the sensation as it roils through your body down to your core. "I need to see you, baby," you moan. 

You're desperate to see all of him. In your haste, you pull apart his shirt, causing the buttons to fly across the room and bounce around the living room floor. You press your palms flat against his tanned chest, smooth and strong, and lift your head up to trace along his collarbone and down his sternum with your tongue. Flicking the tip of your tongue around his nipple and then attending to the other with the same care. 

You coax Javi to sit back against the couch and relax. Bending over to kiss him, you make your way down his body, leaving gentle kisses, slowing down as you approach the patch of hair that is neatly trimmed above his cock. You take a deep breath, inhaling his heady musk, which is uniquely Javi. He emits an exasperated sigh while you gaze up at him through hooded eyes, palming his cock. He's getting antsy, desperate for you to take him in your mouth.

His large palm cradles the back of your head. With his fingers tangled through your hair, he gently encourages you to move your attention lower. Your soft hand wraps around his length as you take languid strokes along his shaft before wrapping your lips around the tip, teasing the seam with kitten licks. 

"Oh, fuck. I've missed your mouth.." Javi tilts your face up to look at him, his dick still between your lips. "Go on, take all of him."

You nod and take his entire length into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Your eyes watering, you take breaths through your nose so you can hold him there. Savoring the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. Javi's breathing increases with heavy pants as he watches you take him, all of him. He gently swipes away at a tendril that has fallen over your face, obstructing his view of your eyes. 

You pull off of him to catch your breath, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth. Javi thumbs away at the stray tear falling down your cheek. You thank him with a wink and begin to lap kitten licks over his tip before running your tongue down his length and then taking him again in your mouth. Bobbing up and down, hollowing your cheeks at a steady pace. Javi pulls you off of him abruptly, "You keep that up, baby; I'm not going to be able to fill up that pretty pussy of yours."

Smugly, you smirk and move to your feet, grasping Javi's face between your hands and leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, "Fucking fill me up then!"

Javi whips you around, one of his hands wrapped around both of your wrists. He rips off your sleep shorts with his other hand and swiftly bends you over the couch arm. Pleased to see your pussy on full display, as you weren't wearing any panties. He strokes his cock while his other hand palms over your lush cheeks. His fingers make their way to your weeping center and swipe through your folds. You buck forward as his fingertip brushes over your clit, already so sensitive to his touch. 

"You're always so fucking wet for me."

"Always, Javi."

Javi pulls your hips high in the air, balancing on your tip toes, and presses your chest down into the cushions. He runs his cock through your seam to coat it with your arousal, eliciting a moan when the tip catches your clit. 

"Are you going to keep teasing, or are you going to fuck me, Javi?"

With that, he notches at your hole and thrusts into you until his pelvis slams into your ass. "Is this what you want?"

The pleasurable sting of his cock plunging through your walls has left you speechless, and all you can do is nod into the couch. "hmm? I couldn't hear that."

You muffle a "yes" into the downy cushion. 

"That's my girl!"

He begins a relentless pace, pounding into you. "You're so fucking tight. Fuck!" 

His balls slap against your clit with each thrust. The combination of Javi's cock and the brush of your nipples against the soft faded fabric of your t-shirt sends immense pleasure throughout your body. You feel warmth roil in your core, your arousal increasing with every pass of his cock through your walls. His hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, as he pulls you back into his hips with each thrust, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. 

Javi feels your walls tightening around him; he bends forward over you, the weight of his body pushing you further into the cushion. His hot breath against your ear, "I can feel you, baby." he reaches around your front and begins to thumb your clit, "You going to cum for me?"

"Fuck…" you gasp, "Yes, Javi! Yes! Yes! Yes!" 

Wailing as your body shudders through your orgasm. Your pussy grips his cock so tightly it only takes a few more thrusts before Javi's cum floods your pussy. 

He leaves soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, gentle nibbles along your earlobe before a husky whisper, "Your pussy hugs my cock as tight as my jeans." 

You chortle and playfully smack his shoulder with the back of your hand, "Javi!"

He chuckles, smacking more kisses along your cheek before he pulls himself off of you. Begrudgingly, he removes his softening cock from your warmth. He'd stay inside you forever if he could.

As his thick head exits your hole, he admires your combined arousal leaking out of you and onto your thighs. You are his, and he is yours. 

Stlll in your fucked out haze, you hear the faucet turn on in the bathroom and then Javi's heavy footfalls, followed by a gentle wet warmth of a washcloth. He moves slowly, careful not to arouse your oversensitive clit. After he wipes his cock, he discards the washcloth on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. 

You shift to your side, and Javi squeezes in behind you. Both of you bare; he wraps his arm around your stomach, warm skin pressed against each other. You tilt your head to face him with a sly smirk stretching across your lips, "Mmm, I'm so glad you didn't get rid of your old clothes." 

"There was no way I was going to get rid of those. Not when my ass looks THAT good!" Laughing, he snuggles his nose into your neck, inhaling your post-sex scent, mixing with your perfume. 

Your breaths begin to steady in tandem as you drift off to sleep, and Javi thinks to himself, "Better luck next year." 

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

tagging a few folks who may be interested in reading: @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @ak-vintage @peepawispunk @half-moon16 (let me know if you'd prefer I not clog your notifs)

[sillyengineerperson]

Some people still need to learn to ask about BOUNDARIES before you potentially cross them!

[pucksandpower]

Come Undone

Day 26 → Cum Marking 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, and somnophilia

Kinktober Masterlist

Charles can’t remember the last time he’s been this agitated. The tension has been building for days, coiling around his chest like a tight wire, and it all seems to be connected to one thing — or rather, one person.

You.

He stands in the Ferrari garage, arms crossed, leaning against a wall with his eyes trained on you. You're talking with Lewis again. That familiar laugh escapes your lips, the one Charles loves, but now it grates against his nerves.

Lewis is close, too close, and Charles can’t help but notice the way Lewis’ hand brushes your arm as he talks. It’s subtle, probably innocent, but it still sends a spark of irritation through him.

“Everything alright?” Joris asks, coming to stand beside him. His tone is casual, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes.

Charles doesn’t answer immediately, jaw tight as he watches you laugh again at something Lewis says. “Yeah,” he replies, but his voice is strained, even to his own ears.

Joris raises an eyebrow, following his gaze. “You sure about that? You’ve been glaring at Lewis like he’s the second coming of 14-year-old Max.”

Charles lets out a huff of air, half-laugh, half-sigh. “I’m fine,” he insists, though he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of him.

Joris just smirks, nudging him with his shoulder. “You know, if you stare any harder, you might just set him on fire.”

Charles finally looks at Joris, who is grinning like he’s thoroughly entertained by this. “I’m not-” he starts, but Joris cuts him off.

“You’re not what? Jealous? Possessive? Both?” Joris teases, but there’s no malice in it.

Charles sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just … he’s always around her.”

“Maybe because she’s your girlfriend and he’s trying to be friendly?” Joris suggests, but Charles shakes his head.

“There’s something about the way he looks at her. It’s not just friendly.”

Joris considers this, then shrugs. “Maybe. But you know, she’s with you. Not him. And she doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual, does she?”

Charles glances back at you, still deep in conversation with Lewis, completely unaware of the turmoil in his mind. “No,” he admits reluctantly. “She doesn’t.”

“Then maybe you’re overthinking it.” Joris claps a hand on his shoulder. “But if it’s bothering you this much, maybe you should talk to her.”

Charles frowns. “And say what? ‘Hey, I think my new teammate is flirting with you, can you please stop talking to him?’ That sounds ridiculous.”

Joris laughs. “It does when you say it like that. Just … I don’t know, make sure she knows how you feel about her. So there’s no room for doubt.”

Charles nods, but his eyes drift back to you. The way Lewis leans in slightly as he talks, the easy smile on his face … it’s driving him crazy. Joris is right — you’re with him, not Lewis, but that doesn’t stop the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

“Thanks,” he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

“Anytime,” Joris replies, patting his shoulder before walking away, leaving Charles to stew in his thoughts.

He knows he should focus on the race tomorrow, but all he can think about is how Lewis seems to find every excuse to be near you. At first, he thought he was imagining it, reading too much into friendly interactions. But as the days went on, it became harder to ignore. The casual touches, the lingering looks, the way Lewis always seems to find you when Charles isn’t around … it’s all too much.

Charles doesn’t want to be that boyfriend — the one who’s insecure, who reads into things that aren’t there — but every instinct he has is screaming that Lewis is interested in you. And the worst part? You don’t even seem to notice.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Charles?”

He blinks, realizing you’re standing in front of him now, a concerned look on your face. Lewis is nowhere to be seen, and Charles feels a small surge of relief at that.

“Yeah?” He replies, trying to shake off the tension.

“You okay?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study his face. “You seem … off.”

He forces a smile, but it feels tight. “I’m fine.”

You don’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting weird for the past few days.”

He hesitates, wondering how much to tell you. Part of him wants to just brush it off, to avoid any potential conflict, but another part of him — the part that’s been simmering with jealousy and frustration — wants to tell you everything. Maybe Joris is right; maybe it’s better to be honest with you, to clear the air before this eats him alive.

“I’ve just … I’ve noticed how much time you’ve been spending with Lewis,” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

You blink, clearly surprised by the direction the conversation has taken. “Lewis? What do you mean?”

Charles rubs a hand over his face, feeling a little foolish now that he’s actually saying it out loud. “It’s just … he’s always around you, and it feels like he’s flirting with you. And I don’t like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, then you frown. “Lewis isn’t flirting with me. He’s just being friendly.”

“Maybe,” Charles concedes, “but it doesn’t feel that way to me. He’s always touching you, always finding excuses to talk to you …”

You stare at him for a moment, then shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re being ridiculous. Lewis is just … Lewis. He’s like that with everyone.”

Charles feels a flicker of irritation at how easily you dismiss his concerns. “Not like this,” he insists. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “And how does he look at me?”

“Like he wants something more,” Charles says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you laugh — a short, incredulous sound. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” Charles snaps, more frustrated by your reaction than anything else. “I know what I’m seeing, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of confusion and something else — hurt, maybe? “Charles, I’m with you. I love you. Why would you think for a second that I would be interested in someone else?”

“It’s not that,” he says quickly, regretting his tone. “It’s not about you. It’s about him. I just … I don’t trust his intentions.”

You stare at him, and he can see the gears turning in your mind. “So you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

“No,” he replies, but the word comes out too quickly, too defensive. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

You sigh again, rubbing your temples. “Charles, I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t control how other people act. And if Lewis really is flirting with me — which I don’t think he is — then he’s wasting his time because I’m with you. You’re the only one I want.”

He wants to believe you, and deep down, he does. But the jealousy is still there, a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate. “I just … I don’t like it,” he repeats, feeling like a broken record.

You step closer to him, reaching out to take his hand. “Then talk to me about it, okay? Don’t keep it bottled up until you’re this upset. We can work through it together.”

Charles squeezes your hand, grateful for the gesture even if the tension hasn’t fully left him. “I will. I promise.”

You smile softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Good. Now, can we stop worrying about Lewis and focus on the race tomorrow?”

He nods, but his mind is already racing, thinking about what he can do to make sure Lewis knows you’re off-limits. It’s not enough to just talk to you about it, he needs to take action, to show both you and Lewis that you’re his and his alone.

After the race, he tells himself. After the race, he’ll do something to make it clear to everyone — including Lewis — that you belong to him.

And this time, he won’t hold back.

***

The hotel suite is quiet, save for the soft rustling of the pages as you flip through your book. Charles can hear it from where he stands near the window, staring out into the darkened city. The lights outside blur together, a sea of neon and streetlights that fail to hold his attention. All he can think about is you — lying in bed, lost in whatever story you're reading, completely unaware of the turmoil still swirling in his mind.

He turns away from the window, glancing over at you. The lamp on your nightstand casts a warm glow, illuminating the relaxed curve of your body under the sheets. Your face is serene, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you read, and Charles feels a wave of affection that is quickly followed by a surge of something more primal, something that has been simmering under the surface all day.

He walks over to the dresser, where the hotel has placed a few empty glasses, neat and pristine in a row. He picks one up, the cool glass smooth against his fingertips, and his mind is already racing with thoughts of what he’s about to do. It feels a little crazy, maybe even a little wrong, but the idea has taken root, and he knows he won’t be able to shake it.

You don’t notice when he slips into the bathroom, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The light is harsh, and it jolts him slightly, making him take a deep breath as he stares at himself in the mirror. His reflection looks back at him, eyes dark with the need he’s been trying to suppress all day.

He sets the glass on the counter, steadying himself with another deep breath. His thoughts are consumed by you — by the way you laughed with Lewis, by how oblivious you seemed to the effect it had on him, by how badly he wants to remind you that you’re his.

Slowly, he reaches down, undoing the button on his pants. His hands are shaking slightly as he lowers them, along with his boxers, the cool air of the bathroom hitting his skin. He closes his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he wraps his hand around himself.

It doesn’t take much to get him going. He’s been half-hard all day, the tension of jealousy and desire building up inside him. His mind drifts back to the way you looked at him earlier, the concern in your eyes when you asked if he was okay. He thinks about how soft your skin is under his touch, how you feel when he’s inside you, how you moan his name in the dark.

His strokes are slow at first, deliberate, as he imagines you on the bed, waiting for him, completely unaware of what he’s doing. The thought only heightens his arousal, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan as his hand moves faster. He can picture it so clearly — coming back into the room, seeing you lying there, trusting him completely.

The pressure builds quickly, and he has to brace himself against the counter with his free hand, his breathing ragged as he nears the edge. He forces himself to keep quiet, to not alert you to what he’s doing, but it’s difficult when the pleasure is so intense, so all-consuming.

Finally, with a choked gasp, he spills into the glass, his body trembling as he comes down from the high. He stands there for a moment, catching his breath, before he carefully sets the glass down on the counter. The sight of his release, warm and viscous, in the clear glass sends a thrill through him, a reminder of what he’s about to do.

He cleans himself up quickly, adjusting his clothes and wiping the outside of the glass clean. Then, with one last look in the mirror, he picks up the glass and exits the bathroom.

You’re still in bed when he comes back, your book now closed and resting on your chest as you lie with your eyes shut. You look so peaceful, so relaxed, and he feels a rush of tenderness mixed with the lingering heat of his arousal.

He sets the glass on his nightstand, careful not to draw your attention to it. “You still awake?” He asks softly, moving closer to the bed.

“Mm-hmm,” you murmur, not opening your eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, then sits down on the edge of the bed. “You look tired,” he comments, reaching out to gently stroke your arm. “You should get some rest.”

You smile slightly, eyes still closed. “Just winding down. It’s been a long day.”

He nods, even though you can’t see it, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin. “I was thinking …” he starts, his voice low and careful. “Maybe I could give you a massage? Help you relax.”

You hum in response, a pleased sound that makes his heart skip a beat. “That sounds nice,” you reply, shifting slightly under the covers to give him better access to your back.

Perfect, he thinks. His plan is falling into place.

He reaches for the glass on the nightstand, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to alarm you. You’re still lying with your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s about to do, and the thought of it sends a fresh wave of excitement through him.

“Just relax,” he whispers, leaning over you as he carefully pulls the sheets down to expose your back. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You nod slightly, your trust in him evident, and it only fuels his determination. He dips his fingers into the glass, coating them in the warm cum before setting it back down. His heart races as he leans over you, his hand hovering above your skin for a moment before he finally makes contact.

The feeling of his release on your skin is electric, sending a jolt of arousal through him. He starts at the base of your spine, his fingers gliding smoothly over your skin, spreading the liquid across your back. You sigh softly, completely unaware of what he’s using, just enjoying the sensation of his touch.

He takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate as he works his way up your back, his fingers kneading the tension out of your muscles. The room is filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the occasional murmur of contentment escaping your lips, and it drives him wild.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “How does that feel?” He asks, his voice rough with need.

“Good,” you reply, your voice sleepy and content. “Really good.”

He smiles, a mix of pride and possessiveness swelling in his chest. “Good,” he echoes, his hands still moving over your skin, spreading his mark across every inch of you.

His touch becomes firmer, more insistent, as he moves higher up your back. You shiver slightly under his hands, but still, you don’t open your eyes, completely trusting him. It’s intoxicating, the power he feels in this moment, knowing that he’s marking you as his in a way that no one else ever could.

He dips his fingers back into the glass, gathering more of the cum, and starts working on your shoulders. The thought of his release mingling with the natural scent of your skin is almost too much for him to handle, and he has to take a steadying breath to keep from losing control.

You let out a small moan as his fingers dig into a particularly tight spot, and he can’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re mine,” he whispers against your skin, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

You don’t respond, and for a moment, he worries that he’s gone too far, that you’ve realized what he’s doing. But then you sigh contentedly, shifting slightly under his hands, and he realizes that you’re still half-asleep, blissfully unaware of what’s really happening.

The realization sends a thrill through him, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor, his hands moving over your skin with purpose. He wants to cover every inch of you, to make sure that there’s no part of you that hasn’t been touched by him, that hasn’t been marked as his.

He’s lost in the sensation, in the feeling of your skin under his hands, in the thought of what he’s doing. The rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, and he knows that he’s never wanted you more than he does right now.

Finally, when he’s satisfied that he’s covered every inch of your back, he pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. He’s breathing heavily, his heart racing, and it takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts, to come back to reality.

You’re still lying there, your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s done. He feels a rush of possessiveness, a fierce need to protect you, to keep you all to himself. He knows that what he’s done is risky, that it could backfire if you ever found out, but in this moment, he doesn’t care.

You’re his, and now there’s no doubt about it.

He leans down to press another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls back. “You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his voice low and rough.

You murmur something in response, too tired to form coherent words, and he smiles, pulling the sheets back up over you. He watches as you settle into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping your lips, and he feels a surge of satisfaction.

He moves to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. You instinctively curl into his side, your head resting on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. The warmth of your body against his is soothing, grounding him after everything that’s happened tonight.

As you nestle closer, you mumble, “Whatever lotion you used feels amazing.”

He swallows hard, his heart racing all over again, but he manages to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad you liked it,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You sigh contentedly, already drifting off to sleep, completely unaware of the truth. And as Charles holds you in his arms, he can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight, he’s left a mark on you that only the two of you will ever know.

***

The sun has barely begun to rise, casting a soft, golden light over the Monaco skyline as Charles stands in the kitchen of your shared apartment. The place is quiet, the kind of peaceful that only comes in the early hours of the morning. He’s dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts, barefoot on the cool tile floor as he busies himself with breakfast.

There’s a calmness to this routine, a tranquility that he cherishes. It’s just the two of you here, no prying eyes, no tension — just the comfort of home. But even in this serene setting, a part of him is buzzing with anticipation, a subtle undercurrent of the possessiveness that he’s been feeling more and more of lately.

On the counter, among the fresh fruit and yogurt, sits a small glass, nearly identical to the one he used just a few nights ago. It’s filled with the same substance, warm and opaque, waiting for the moment when he can mix it into something that you’ll consume. The thought of it sends a thrill through him, a reminder of the secret he’s been keeping, the private bond he’s been nurturing in ways only he knows.

He’s almost lost in thought when he hears the soft pad of your footsteps approaching from the hallway. You enter the kitchen, still sleepy-eyed and wrapped in the comfort of an oversized sweatshirt, your hair slightly tousled from sleep. There’s something about seeing you like this, so natural and unguarded, that makes his chest tighten with affection — and with that familiar, possessive need.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice still soft with sleep as you come up behind him.

He turns to greet you, a smile already playing on his lips. “Morning, mon amour,” he replies, pulling you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, your head resting against his chest, and he holds you there for a moment, savoring the feeling of you in his arms, so close, so his.

You’re warm against him, the scent of your skin mingling with the fresh coffee he’s brewed, and it’s all he can do to keep from letting his hands wander, to keep from pulling you even closer. But he knows he has a plan to stick to, so he leans down to kiss the top of your head instead, a soft, lingering gesture that makes you hum contentedly.

“I was thinking about making smoothies,” he says, his voice casual as he pulls back just enough to look down at you. “You want one?”

You nod, eyes still half-closed as you lean into him, not fully awake yet. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” you murmur, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, fingers idly tracing the fabric of his shirt.

He gives you a reassuring squeeze before gently disentangling himself from you, turning back to the counter. “Sit tight. I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.”

You wander over to the kitchen island, pulling up a stool and resting your head on your folded arms, watching him with sleepy eyes. He glances over his shoulder at you as he starts gathering ingredients — the yogurt, the fresh berries, a banana — carefully setting each one on the counter in front of him.

“You sure you’re awake enough for this?” He teases, his tone light, though his mind is already on the next step, on the glass sitting just within reach.

“Barely,” you admit with a small laugh, your eyes closing as you rest your chin on your arms. “But I’ll manage. I could use something refreshing.”

He grins, a soft chuckle escaping him as he reaches for the blender. “This should do the trick, then.” He starts adding the ingredients, layer by layer, taking his time to make sure everything is just right. The kitchen fills with the sound of fruit hitting the blender, the soft clink of the yogurt spoon against the glass, the low hum of the machine as he blends it all together.

And then, with a practiced ease, he reaches for the glass, the one that holds his release, and adds its contents to the mix. The thick liquid disappears into the smoothie, blending seamlessly with the other ingredients, leaving no trace of what he’s done. It’s the perfect secret, hidden in plain sight, and the knowledge of it sends a shiver of excitement through him.

He caps the blender, turning it on once more to make sure everything is thoroughly mixed, and then pours the smoothie into a tall glass. It’s a vibrant, inviting shade of pink from the berries, the kind of drink that promises sweetness and freshness, and he can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction as he walks it over to you.

“Here you go,” he says, setting the glass in front of you with a smile.

You sit up, blinking your eyes open as you reach for the glass. “Thank you,” you say, your voice still soft with sleep, but there’s a warmth in your tone that makes his heart swell.

He watches, his breath catching slightly, as you take a sip. Your lips wrap around the straw, and for a moment, he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you drinking, the subtle curve of your mouth, the way your throat moves as you swallow. It’s such a simple thing, but knowing what’s in that glass, what you’re consuming, makes it feel like so much more.

“Mmm,” you murmur after a moment, pulling back with a pleased smile. “This is really good.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice a touch huskier than he intended.

You nod, taking another sip, completely unaware of the deeper meaning behind the drink. “Yeah, really good. You always make the best smoothies.”

His heart swells with pride, even as the possessiveness lingers, wrapping itself around his thoughts like a vice. You’re his, in every way that matters, and this smoothie is just another reminder of that fact — a reminder that only he knows about.

“Glad you like it,” he says, leaning against the counter as he watches you take another drink. “I put a little extra care into this one.”

You laugh softly, setting the glass down as you meet his gaze. “I can tell.”

For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a quiet connection passing between you that feels almost electric. There’s a warmth in your eyes, a softness that makes him want to reach out and pull you into his arms again, to hold you close and never let go.

But instead, he pushes off the counter, walking back over to where you’re sitting. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a slow, deliberate motion that makes your breath hitch just a little.

“Do you have any plans today?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

You shake your head, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him. “No, not really. Just thought I’d relax, maybe read a bit.”

He nods, his hand sliding down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Good. You deserve to relax.” He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering against your skin.

You smile, a soft, contented smile that makes his chest tighten with emotion. “What about you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve got some training later, but nothing too crazy,” he replies, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I was thinking we could spend some time together before that, though. Just the two of us.”

You nod, your smile widening as you squeeze his hand. “I’d like that.”

He feels a warmth spread through him, a deep, satisfying contentment that comes from knowing you’re his, that you’re here with him, that you trust him completely. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever, to keep close to his heart.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Finish your smoothie,” he says, his tone gentle but insistent. “I want you to be well-fed before we start our day.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you pick up the glass again. “Okay, okay,” you say, taking another sip. “Bossy.”

He grins, his heart swelling with affection as he watches you drink, knowing that with every sip, you’re taking in a part of him, a part that only he can give you.

And as he watches you move around the apartment, smiling and laughing, completely unaware of the deeper connection you now share, he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, a certainty that no one else could ever have what you have with him.

You’re his, in every way that matters. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

***

The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden light across the Monaco apartment, bathing everything in a soft glow. The air is filled with the distant hum of the city below, but inside, all is calm, quiet — a perfect oasis for the two of you.

Charles moves around the spacious bathroom with purpose, the sound of running water filling the air as he prepares a bath for you. It’s been a long few weeks, with races and travel and the endless demands of his career, but now, finally, there’s a moment to breathe, to relax. And Charles is determined to make sure you do exactly that.

He watches the water fill the tub, swirling with bubbles from the bath salts he added, filling the room with the soothing scent of eucalyptus. But even as he sets the scene for a moment of peace, his mind is elsewhere, focused on the next step of his plan, the one that’s been playing out in quiet, secret moments ever since that night in the hotel.

He glances at the door to the bathroom, half-closed, knowing you’re just in the other room, curled up on the bed with a book, completely unaware of what he’s about to do. His heart beats a little faster at the thought, that same possessive thrill coursing through him, mixing with the tenderness he feels every time he looks at you.

The water’s almost ready now, the tub nearly full, and he knows it’s time. With a practiced ease, he reaches for the waistband of his shorts, slipping them off and setting them aside. He’s already half-hard, the anticipation of what he’s about to do sending a rush of heat through his body.

He moves to the edge of the tub, positioning himself just right, and with a deep breath, he lets his hand drift lower, closing around his length. The sensation is immediate, a familiar pleasure that he’s come to associate with these moments, these secret acts of intimacy that only he knows about.

His thoughts are filled with you, with the image of you sinking into the bath, the water wrapping around your body, warm and soothing. He strokes himself slowly, his eyes fixed on the water, imagining how it will mix with his release, how it will touch every inch of your skin, marking you as his in a way that no one else will ever know.

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the water, his cum clouding the surface, disappearing into the bubbles. The sight of it sends a shiver of satisfaction through him, a sense of completion that’s as much emotional as it is physical.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, to let the last remnants of pleasure fade before he straightens, pulling his shorts back on. The water is ready now, the bath perfect, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips as he turns to leave the bathroom, ready to call you in.

“Mon cœur,” he calls softly, stepping out into the bedroom. “Your bath is ready.”

You look up from your book, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. There’s a softness in your expression, a trust that makes his heart ache with affection, and he crosses the room to you, holding out a hand to help you up.

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thank you,” you say, your voice warm and full of gratitude as you follow him back into the bathroom. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He leads you to the tub, the water steaming gently, the scent of eucalyptus wrapping around you both. “Just relax,” he murmurs, his hands finding the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod, your eyes closing as he helps you undress, his touch gentle, reverent. There’s something almost ritualistic about the way he moves, his hands sliding over your skin as he removes each piece of clothing, until you’re standing naked before him, your body bathed in the soft light of the setting sun.

He guides you to the edge of the tub, helping you step in, and you sink into the water with a contented sigh, the warmth enveloping you, easing the tension from your muscles. Charles watches you, his gaze fixed on you as you settle back against the tub, your eyes closing in bliss.

“How’s the water?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

“It’s perfect,” you murmur, your lips curving into a soft smile as you lean your head back. “So warm … feels amazing.”

He smiles, a wave of satisfaction washing over him at your words. “Good,” he says, kneeling beside the tub, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You deserve to be pampered.”

You open your eyes, looking up at him with a gaze so full of trust, so full of love, that it nearly takes his breath away. “I’m lucky to have you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a tender caress.

His heart swells at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. “I’m the lucky one,” he replies, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to memorize the feel of you, the scent of you.

He pulls back slightly, his hand moving to the edge of the tub where a bottle of shampoo waits, carefully placed within reach. “Let me wash your hair,” he offers, his voice gentle, almost a whisper.

You nod, your eyes closing again as you relax back into the water. “That sounds nice,” you say, your voice soft, almost drowsy.

He reaches for the shampoo, pouring some into his palm, the familiar scent filling the air. But as he moves to work it into your hair, he pauses, his eyes flicking to the small cup he’d placed on the floor behind him earlier, hidden just out of sight.

With a quick glance at you to make sure your eyes are still closed, he reaches back, his fingers closing around the cup. He moves carefully, mixing its contents with the shampoo in his hand, watching as the two substances blend together, the color and texture indistinguishable from the original.

His heart beats a little faster as he begins to work the mixture into your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with a practiced ease. The scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam rising from the water, filling the room with a heady aroma that makes everything feel even more intimate, more connected.

You sigh softly as he works, the tension melting from your body with each gentle stroke of his fingers. “That feels amazing,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions — love, possessiveness, satisfaction. “I’m glad,” he replies, his voice low, soothing. “I want you to feel good, to feel relaxed.”

You hum in response, a sound that’s almost a purr, and he can’t help the way his chest tightens at the sound, at the sight of you so vulnerable, so trusting under his care.

As he continues to wash your hair, his fingers moving through the strands with gentle precision, he feels that same familiar thrill, the knowledge that he’s marking you in a way only he knows about. It’s a secret bond, a connection that runs deeper than words, deeper than anything else.

He finishes rinsing the shampoo from your hair, his hands cradling your head as he pours the water over you, careful to keep it from getting in your eyes. You let out another contented sigh, your body sinking deeper into the water, your skin glowing in the soft light.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes still closed, a smile playing on your lips. “You always take such good care of me.”

His heart skips a beat at your words, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. “I’ll always take care of you,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

You reach up, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining with his in a gesture that feels as natural as breathing. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice filled with a depth of feeling that takes his breath away.

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender caress. “I love you too,” he replies, his voice steady, but there’s an intensity in his gaze, a fierceness that speaks to the depth of his feelings, to the possessiveness that’s only grown stronger over time.

As you relax back into the water, your eyes drifting closed once more, Charles watches you, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

And as he sits there beside you, his hand still holding yours, he can’t help but feel a sense of completion, a certainty that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his, in ways that no one else could ever understand.

***

The room is quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the rhythmic hum of the city outside. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bedroom, creating long shadows that stretch across the floor. The air is cool, a gentle breeze slipping through the cracked window, stirring the fabric of the curtains ever so slightly.

Charles lies beside you, his body still as he watches you sleep. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft flutter of your eyelashes as you dream, the way your lips part slightly with each breath — it’s all mesmerizing to him, a sight he never tires of. There’s a peace in this moment, in the quiet intimacy of sharing a bed with you, knowing you’re safe, warm, comfortable, that you trust him completely.

But there’s also something else — a restlessness, a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger with each passing day. He’s been patient, careful, methodical in the way he’s been marking you as his, but tonight, that need has reached a peak, a point where he can’t ignore it any longer.

His gaze drifts down to your lips, the soft curve of them, the way they part slightly with each exhale. An idea takes root in his mind, one that’s as thrilling as it is intimate, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s already moving, slipping out from under the covers with a practiced ease that keeps the bed from shifting too much.

The room is still cool as he stands, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor as he walks to the foot of the bed. He pauses there for a moment, his heart beating a little faster as he considers what he’s about to do. There’s a thrill in the secrecy of it, in the knowledge that you have no idea what’s coming, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

With a quiet breath, he moves to the other side of the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his shorts. He slips them off, the fabric pooling at his feet, leaving him bare in the dim light of the room. His body responds immediately, the anticipation sending a rush of heat through him, his desire hardening almost instantly.

He looks down at you, your face still peaceful, unaware, and he knows he has to be careful, gentle, if this is going to work. He lowers himself onto the bed, positioning himself over you with practiced care, his body hovering just above yours. He leans in close, his breath warm against your skin as he brings himself closer to your lips.

Your eyelashes flutter, a soft murmur escaping your lips as you start to stir, but before you can fully wake, he moves, pressing the tip of his length against your mouth, the contact so light, so delicate, it’s almost like a dream.

Your lips part instinctively, a reflexive action born of years of being together, of knowing each other so intimately. Charles’ breath hitches as he feels the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your lips as they brush against him. He’s careful not to move too quickly, not to startle you awake, but even this small touch sends a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice low, soothing. “Just relax. It’s okay.”

You murmur something unintelligible, your head shifting slightly on the pillow, but you don’t wake. Your body is still relaxed, still trusting, and that trust sends a wave of possessive satisfaction through him, a reminder that you’re his in every way that matters.

He presses forward slightly, just enough to let the tip of himself slip between your lips, careful to keep his movements slow, deliberate. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow slightly in your sleep, the way your lips instinctively close around him, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes his breath catch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just like that.”

He moves carefully, slowly, guiding more of himself into your mouth, each inch sending a thrill of pleasure through him. The sensation is almost too much, the combination of your warmth, your softness, and the knowledge that you have no idea what’s happening, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

But he’s not doing this just for his pleasure. There’s a purpose to this, a plan that’s been forming in his mind ever since he started marking you, ever since he realized how much he needed you to be his in every way. He wants you to associate this with feeling good, to connect the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction, even if you don’t fully understand why.

His free hand moves to your thigh, gently caressing the soft skin there, his touch light, reassuring. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers, his voice soothing, even as his heart races with the intensity of the moment.

You stir again, your lips tightening slightly around him as your body responds to his touch. He can feel the tension in your muscles, the way your breathing changes as you start to wake, but he doesn’t stop. He’s careful, precise, his movements designed to keep you on the edge of consciousness, just aware enough to feel the pleasure, but not enough to fully wake.

“Just let go,” he murmurs, his hand trailing up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing quickens, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body responds to him, even in sleep. He can feel the way your muscles tense, the way your hips shift slightly, as if seeking more contact, more pleasure.

He keeps his movements slow, controlled, his own pleasure building with each careful thrust, each soft sound that escapes your lips. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow, the way your lips part around him, and he knows he’s close, so close to the edge.

But he doesn’t want to finish yet, not until he’s certain you’ve felt it too, that you’ve connected the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction. He moves his hand higher, his fingers brushing against the warmth between your legs, finding you already wet, already ready for him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of affection and possessiveness. “That’s my good girl.”

He strokes you gently, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, his touch just enough to push you closer to the edge, but not enough to wake you fully. He watches as your breathing quickens, your body responding to his touch, to the combination of sensations he’s giving you.

It doesn’t take long before he feels you start to tense, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming more erratic. He can see the pleasure building in you, can feel the way your body is reacting, and it’s almost too much for him to handle, the intensity of it sending him right to the brink.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watches you, as he feels you. “Just let go, mon cœur. I’ve got you.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last stroke, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The sight of you, the feel of you, sends him over the edge too, his own release spilling into your mouth, the pleasure almost overwhelming in its intensity.

He stays there for a moment, his breath ragged, his heart racing, as he watches you slowly relax, your body sinking back into the bed, your breathing evening out as you slip back into a deeper sleep. He’s careful as he pulls away, as he adjusts the covers around you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re warm.

He watches you for a moment longer, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as he whispers, “Je t’aime,” into the darkness.

And then he slips back under the covers, his body curling around yours as he holds you close, his heart still racing with the intensity of what just happened, of what he’s just done. But there’s no regret, no second thoughts, only a deep, abiding satisfaction, a certainty that you’re his, in every way that matters.

As he drifts off to sleep, his hand resting possessively on your hip, he knows that he’ll continue to mark you, to claim you, in all the ways that matter, in all the ways that only he can. Because you’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way, forever.

***

The night air is thick with celebration. Monaco is alive with the sounds of revelry — cheers and laughter drifting up from the streets below. It’s late, but the adrenaline from Charles’ latest victory keeps you both buzzing. You’re in your shared apartment, the lights dimmed low, the atmosphere electric with the thrill of his win. Champagne flutes sit abandoned on the table, half-full and forgotten in the wake of more pressing desires.

Charles can’t take his eyes off you. You’re draped in his suit jacket, the oversized fabric slipping off one shoulder, revealing the curve of your collarbone, the delicate line of your neck. There’s a flush to your cheeks, the result of both the champagne and the heady excitement of the night. You’re beautiful, radiant in the aftermath of his success, and he feels a swell of pride, of possessiveness, as he watches you.

The victory tonight was sweet, but what’s even sweeter is knowing you’re his. Completely his. He’s trained you well — his perfect, responsive lover — and tonight, he’s going to show you just how well that training has paid off.

“You’re happy,” he says, his voice low, tinged with satisfaction as he watches you lean back against the sofa, your eyes bright with joy.

“Of course I am,” you reply, your smile wide, genuine. “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing out there.”

He steps closer, his gaze intense as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers itching to touch, to claim. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m pretty sure your skill had something to do with it.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “But I’m serious. You’re my good luck charm.”

You tilt your head, leaning into his touch, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he replies, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt.

He moves closer, his body pressing against yours as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s slow, deliberate, his mouth moving against yours with practiced ease. He knows exactly how to kiss you, how to make you melt beneath him, and he feels that familiar thrill of satisfaction as you respond, your lips parting to let him in.

But tonight, he’s not just interested in kissing you. Tonight, he has something else in mind, something he’s been working towards for weeks.

He pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your lips as he murmurs, “I have something for you.”

Your brows furrow in curiosity, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he takes your hand, guiding it down between your bodies, letting you feel the hard evidence of his arousal. Your eyes widen slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you realize what he’s implying, what he’s about to do.

“Charles …” your voice trails off, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty coloring your tone.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice soothing as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Trust me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, positioning you just right. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he guides himself to your lips, the tip of his length brushing against your mouth, warm and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, a flicker of surprise in your eyes, but then your body remembers the way he’s been with you, the way he’s trained you, conditioned you, and that hesitation melts away. You part your lips slightly, allowing him to slip into your mouth, your breath catching as you taste him, as you feel him.

It’s a taste you’re familiar with by now, a taste that’s been ingrained in your subconscious over weeks of careful, methodical training. But this time, it’s different. This time, you’re awake, fully aware, and the intensity of it hits you like a tidal wave.

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping your lips as he presses deeper, the familiar warmth and saltiness of him filling your senses. There’s something about it, something intoxicating, and you can’t help but respond, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the pleasure that’s become so closely associated with this taste.

Charles watches you, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and satisfaction as he sees your reaction, sees the way your body tenses, the way your breath quickens. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect, and the knowledge that he’s the one who made you this way, who trained you to respond like this, sends a rush of possessive pride through him.

He moves carefully, his hips shifting slightly, allowing him to press deeper into your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you in place. He’s careful not to go too fast, not to overwhelm you, but there’s a thrill in knowing that you’re so close, that he’s about to push you over the edge.

You whimper softly, your lips tightening around him as the pleasure builds, as the taste of him floods your senses. It’s almost too much, the intensity of it, the way your body responds so instinctively, so powerfully to this simple act. You’re teetering on the edge, so close to falling, and you can feel it, the tension building in your core, the overwhelming need for release.

Charles watches you, his own breath ragged as he feels your body’s response, as he sees the way you’re teetering on the brink. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, with desire. “My perfect girl.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last push, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all too much, and you can’t hold back, can’t stop the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you gasping, shaking, lost in the sensation.

He holds you there for a moment, letting you ride out the wave, his hand stroking your hair gently, soothingly. He can feel the way your body shudders, the way your breath hitches as you come down from the high, and it fills him with a deep, satisfying sense of accomplishment.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with affection as he gently pulls away, his hand still cradling the back of your head, holding you close. “You did so well.”

You’re still breathing heavily, your body trembling slightly as you look up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and wonder. “Charles … I …”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

You nod slightly, your breath still shaky, but there’s a look of understanding in your eyes, a recognition of what just happened, of how far you’ve come, of how much you’ve changed. And Charles knows, without a doubt, that you’re his, completely his.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both settle back onto the sofa, the aftermath of the moment settling over you like a warm, comforting blanket. There’s a sense of peace, of contentment, as you rest your head against his chest, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure.

Charles strokes your hair, his fingers gentle as they move through the soft strands, his heart filled with an overwhelming ove for you. He’s proud of you, of how perfect you are, of how well you’ve responded to his training. And as he holds you, he knows that this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, so much more to experience together.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, his voice filled with a quiet, possessive satisfaction. “And you always will be.”

You don’t respond, not with words, but the way you snuggle closer to him, the way your body relaxes in his arms, says it all. You’re his, in every way that matters, and there’s no place you’d rather be.

[starfruitii]

cws & notes. fluff. post-timeskip. iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader, + special guest appearances from the seijoh 4 because i love them. 800+ words.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Oikawa squints at you, then at Iwaizumi, then back at you again. “Something's different.”

“First time we see you in almost a year, and you're already acting weird.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, pulling out two chairs for you both to sit down. “Nothing's different.”

“Glad to see leaving Japan hasn't changed you, Oikawa.” You chime in, sliding into your seat. It was a nice little cafe, not too crowded, but not empty either. The table Oikawa had chosen was tucked away in the back, right by a window overlooking the street, giving you a perfect opportunity to watch the people walking by.

“No.... no, something is definitely off.” Oikawa looks over to the other two occupied seats, searching for some sort of agreement from his companions. “You two see it, don't you? Something has definitely changed since our last meet-up.”

“Our last meet-up was last September. I think it would be weirder if we hadn't changed a little since then,” Matsukawa laughs, waving him off. “I mean, look at Makki's haircut.”

Hanamaki looks thoughtful for a moment, nodding at Oikawa. “Nah, I think he's got a point. You two seem a little—Wait, what do you mean? What's wrong with my hair, asshole?”

“Hey, I didn't say it was bad! Just... different.”

“So, different in a good way?”

“Uh... sure, if that's what you want to go with.”

“You—”

“This isn't about Makki's hair!” Oikawa interrupts, pointing an accusing finger towards Iwaizumi. He looks up from the menu in his hands, glaring back at Oikawa. “It's about them. Something happened between you two, didn't it?”

“Maybe they got engaged.” Hanamaki suggests.

“They have to be dating before they get engaged.” Matsukawa pauses, realization on his face. “Wait, is that it? Did you guys actually start dating? Do I owe Makki ¥2000?”

“You're all imagining things.” Iwaizumi says bluntly. “Now, are we going to order or not?”

Oikawa's suspicion doesn't waver, but the mention of food distracts him enough to begrudgingly let the topic go. He waves over a waitress, ordering drinks and snacks for the whole table. Once she is gone, the conversation shifts to Matsukawa's work, then Hanamaki's lack of work, then everything Oikawa has been up to in Argentina.

Throughout the visit, you sit back and relax, chiming in with your own anecdotes and comments every now and then. For the most part, you keep quiet, content with listening to your friends as they catch up. Ever since graduation, when you all went your separate ways, reunions with all five of you were few and far between, so you were just happy to be together once again.

You barely notice the time passing at all, until Oikawa is five-minutes deep into a rant about his new team. Iwaizumi looks at his watch and balks, standing up from his seat.

“It's already five.” He says, cutting off Oikawa's voice. “I gotta get going soon.”

“Me too,” You sigh.

“Already?” Matsukawa groans.

“Both of you?” Hanamaki asks, raising an eyebrow. “You have plans you'd like to share?”

“He's my ride home.” You shrug, gathering up your things. “It was great seeing you guys though. We'll have to hang out again when you're all free.”

After your goodbyes, the two of you leave the cafe and walk the short distance to Iwaizumi's car. Once you're alone, you settle into a comfortable silence, accompanied by the quiet sounds of the city in the background. Without your friends' scrutinizing gaze, Iwaizumi walks a little closer to you, until your shoulders lightly brush. The slight touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you make no effort to move away.

“So, Oikawa seems to think something is up.” You say casually, watching Iwaizumi frown at the mention of his friend.

“He can think whatever he wants to think.” He rolls his eyes, holding open the side door of his car. “We don't owe him anything.”

“We do have to tell them at some point, don't we?” You continue, as you climbed into the passenger seat. “You of all people should know he's not going to shut up about it until we do.”

“Of course I know that.” Iwaizumi grumbled, as soon as he was sat in his own seat.

“So...?”

“So what?” He adjusts his mirrors, glancing over at you.

“Is he right?” There's a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's clear you find it much more amusing than he does. You lean closer, whispering the words like they're a grand secret. “Is something different, Hajime?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head a little, but can't hide the small smirk on his face. His hand reaches out to grasp your chin, tilting your face upwards so he can press a slow, sweet kiss to your lips. As he leans back, there's a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I don't know. Has something changed?”

You laugh lightly, savouring the taste of his lips on your own. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai. reblogs are appreciated <3

[jarofstyles]

Lights Out, Keep Warm

Hi lovelies! I’ve been waiting to give this one shot to you. Snowed in at the cabin is something I’ve always loved the idea of, and I hope this can make it something you dream of too.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 230+ exclusive writings and series.

WC- 4.6k

Warnings- loss of power, unprotected sex, creampie, slight size kink

It had seemed like a good idea, heading to the cabin for the weekend. It was supposed to snow a little, Harry had a stressful week at work and Y/N had no plans. The cabin in the mountains was one of their favorite weekend getaways, but it wasn’t lost on Harry that he needed to make some adjustments. They’d only gotten it 2 years prior and he knew he’d needed to do some work on it, but every time they went it was inevitable that they got distracted enough that he’d push it off to the ‘next time’. This time, however; he knew that he was not going to be able to do that. 

They’d noticed the first flicker when the winds started to pick up. He’d resolved himself to know they’d be snowed in this weekend, but he was starting to regret not getting the generator from their house the more gusts of wind started to make the lights flicker. It was only a matter of time. 

As they sat on the sofa waiting for the cookies to bake, he heard a snap from outside and it was over. The power at the cabin flickered one last time and died, plunging them into darkness. 

It was pointless to go out there and check. He could see from the windows how hard the snow was coming down. It was a tomorrow sort of problem… but he couldn’t deny that it was going to mean a far less comfortable night. Harry cursed under his breath, not liking the cold that was quickly settling in. He wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close as he sat down on the couch from his observation outside the window. "Fuck, it's cold." he grumbled, his teeth chattering slightly.

"Come ‘ere," he mumbled, burrowing his face into her neck and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "You're like a human heater." he complained, his breath warm against her skin. He nuzzled closer, trying to absorb her warmth like a cat. "Think we should jus’ stay like this until the power comes back on."

Y/N giggled softly, curling into his embrace as she felt his body pressing against hers in the darkness. "Well, aren't you resourceful?" she teased, running her fingers through his hair to soothe him. "Using me as your personal space heater now." His playful groan against her neck made her smile widen. "You were the genius who thought baking cookies in a cabin with questionable wiring was a good idea," she quipped, pulling the blanket over them.

"Sure, of course. Blame my brilliant mind for underestimating the cabin's electrical system and the winds it can withstand." he mumbled into her neck. "At least we can at least attempt to keep warm now," he purred, letting his lips brush over her collarbone. "And you smell like vanilla and whatever else you put in the cookies, which is making the this whole thing much more bearable." He shifted slightly, his leg throwing over hers to entwine them together. That wasn’t enough, though. 

As they huddled together on the couch, the room grew noticeably colder by the minute. His large hands splayed out on her stomach, his fingers splaying out to cover as much of her warmth as possible. "Damn it, why is it getting colder?" he complained, his breath washing over her throat. "I need more of your heat." he grumbled, his body shifting until she was practically sitting on top of his lap.

"Come on, closer," he insisted playfully, adjusting his position to make her more comfortable atop his lap, splaying the blanket over her shoulders to make a little cocoon for them, leaving their head and neck out. "This is like... the best worst situation ever.” He muttered against her skin, pressing small kisses along her neck to distract himself. "Being forced to hold you this close in the dark." His hands moved slowly up and down her back in comforting strokes. "Though I'm definitely not complaining about the cuddles." He nipped softly at her earlobe, making her shiver.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, squirming slightly in his lap as she felt his teeth on her. "You're such a flirt, even when you're cold and grumpy." she accused, tilting her head to give him better access. "And for the record, I'm not complaining either." Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. "This is kind of cozy, isn't it? Being stuck in here with you."

"Cozy is an understatement." he agreed, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her up against him. "I'm starting t’think the power going out was a blessing in disguise," he joked, his fingers splaying out on her lower back. "Who needs lights when I have you glowing like a little human heater in my arms?" He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her.

"You're...warm. Warmer than the fireplace I was counting on." Her laughter was soft, breathy as she sunk into the body head they shared. "You think our cookies are okay?" she asked, pressing a gentle kiss just below his jawline, making him shiver. "Or have they gone completely hard in the cold?" 

Her voice held a playful innuendo that made him smirk in the darkness. "Not as hard as I am right now..."

“Oh trust me, I can feel how hard you are.” It had taken her by surprise to feel him against her but she couldn’t say she didn’t like it. “Though I will say I much prefer your type of hard.”

Harry's breath hitched at her playful words, his body reacting instantly to the innuendo. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me." he grumbled. "Let's just say the cookies aren't the only thing getting hard in this cold, but at least mine can be useful.." He leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up desire and affection into it.

"I swear, if the power doesn't come back on soon, I might just have to warm you up in other ways," he murmured against her lips, his voice husky. His hands slid down to grip her thighs, squeezing gently as he pulled her core flush against him. "Though I have to admit, I'm kind of enjoying this forced intimacy too much." He nipped at her bottom lip, grinning in the darkness as she pouted against his mouth.

"Oh?" She questioned softly against his lips, her heart picking up. "And what exactly are these... other ways?" Her voice was breathy with anticipation, one hand sliding up his chest while the other remained wrapped around his neck. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch, matching her own rapid rhythm. The darkness seemed to fuel her courage, and she shifted slightly in his lap, making his breath hitch audibly. "Maybe I'd like to find out.” 

"Jesus Christ, you little minx." Harry whispered, his grip on her thighs tightening as he pulled her even closer. His lips moved to her neck, trailing hot kisses as he breathed against her skin, "You're playing with fire, love." The irony of that sentence was not lost on him. One hand moved up to cup her face while the other stayed firmly on her thigh, his thumb tracing small circles. "Are you sure you want me to show you?" His voice was hoarse with desire, his control hanging by a thread in the dark intensity of the moment. "Because once I start… m’not sure I'll be able to stop." he finished, his words a low rumble against her throat. He dragged his lips along her collarbone, the scrape of his stubble leaving tingling trails on her skin. His hand on her thigh inched upward, fingers slipping teasingly beneath the hem of her shirt. "S’that what you want, sweet girl?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "For me to touch you in the dark?"

Y/N arched into his touch, a breathless moan escaping her lips at the feel of his fingers slipping beneath her shirt. "Yes," She breathed out, the word barely audible in the charged air between them. "I want all of you, Harry. Every inch." Her nails raked lightly down his back as she clung to him, her body trembling not just from the cold, but from the overwhelming need coursing through her veins. "Show me, baby.” She challenged, her voice trembling ever so slightly with need. "Touch me."

He groaned, the sound vibrating against her as his hands finally pushed her shirt up to bunch around her waist. His fingers splayed out on her bare stomach, inching upward slowly. "You're asking for trouble." The man warned, her breath hitching as his hands reached the underside of her breasts before going down, fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her belly.

Y/N's back arched as his fingers slipped inside to brush against her lace underwear, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel herself growing wet, her cunt aching as she realized just how much she actually needed this. "I want it. Don’t care if it’s trouble." she whispered back, hands fisting in his hair as she pulled his mouth back to hers in a desperate, hungry kiss.

He swallowed her whimpers as his fingers finally hooked into the waistband of her leggings and slowly, slowly pulled them down. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses along her jaw as his hands worked to remove it. "Lift f’me." he whispered, his anticipation growing. "Please, baby." She took the direction well- just like she always did. His fingers curled around her thighs, helping to lift her legs as he slowly peeled her leggings and underwear off, leaving her bottom half bare in his arms. Pulling the blanket back over them, he placed another delicate kiss to her lips, letting them stick for a moment. “Need t’keep the shirt on. it’s too cold for you to be fully naked… what a shame.”

One hand cupped her over her pussy, his middle finger slowly sliding through her wet folds making her gasp loudly. "Fuck you're wet." he whispered in awe, his voice thick with desire as he began to stroke her gently. "Soaked through just from my touch... my girl wants it bad, doesn't she?" The cool air of the cabin contrasted sharply with the heat between her legs as his fingers explored her. “God, you're gorgeous like this, all hot n’ready for me, even in the freezing cold." He licked a his lips before capturing hers in another searing kiss, swallowing her moan as his fingers circled her clit deliberately. "I could keep you warm all night long, couldn't I?"

Y/N nodded, clutching onto his shoulders as her hips moved slightly. He could touch her the whole night and she’d happily preen and melt into him. Harry had the handbook to how to make her feel good, and she wasn’t going to deny him. She didn’t want to.

"Mmm, that's what you needed. Go ahead n’make yourself feel good.” he praised, his fingers moving in teasing circles over her clit as she rocked against him. "Use me, take what you need." His other hand slid under her shirt, cupping her breast as he took her mouth in deep kisses. He could feel her body trembling with need, her hips moving more urgently against his fingers.

Just being touched like this was making her hot. No power and snowstorm be damned, she knew at the end of this she was going to be a sweaty mess. She always was.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy, baby. Jus’ like you always do." He sighed against her lips, his fingers picking up speed over her clit. Her wetness coated his digits, making the motion slick and addictive. "I can feel how badly you need me." He pinched her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her cunt. His cock throbbed insistently against her thigh, reminding her of his own desperate arousal. "Tell me what you want, Y/N."

"Want you inside me, Harry," the girl breathed out, her voice shaking slightly as he slipped a finger inside of her. "I need your cock, please. I need you to fuck me, fill me up, make me forget about the cold and the darkness." Her hips rocked against his hand again, seeking friction. She gasped as he pulled his finger out, her pussy clenching desperately around nothing.

"This what you want, Y/N?" He teased, his tip brushing against her through the thin sweatpants. "My thick, hard cock stretching you out, filling you up completely?" He paused, his voice a dark hum that warmed her bones. "Ask me again.”

"Please, baby…" she whimpered as she felt him pressing against her. "Fuck me. I need your cock to warm me up. Please just put it in me." Her hips rolled, trying to push herself onto his length. "M’so cold.”

He crooned, a low rumble in his chest. "Cold, huh? Let me see if I can heat you up." With a swift motion, he pulled his throbbing cock out of his sweats, letting it spring free. The head was already slick with precum, pulsing with need for her as he positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip teasingly through her wet folds. "This better, sweetheart?" His voice was playful, but there was a desperate edge to it, mirroring his arousal.

"Mhm…" She sighed in relief, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she needed him. She was needy, cold and horny now, her pussy clenching around nothing. He always managed to work her up from 0 to 100. "Just fuck me, Harry. I can take it." Her teeth grazed against his ear as she spoke, her body seeming him out. "Please?" She rocked her hips against him, trying to push his cock inside her aching cunt on her own.

He let out a hiss in pleasure as the tip of his cock caught on her entrance, the warmth and wetness enveloping just the head. "Fuck, tiny little cunt. Shouldn’t be able t’fit, but we’ll make it. Won’t we?" He cooed, his hips jerking forward slightly, pushing the tip inside her. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he began to slowly slide deeper. "So fucking tight and wet for me." He bottomed out with a satisfied grunt, his balls pressing against her ass.

"God, you’re always so incredible," he breathed out, his hands sliding around to grip her ass as they both adjusted to her pussy being fully sheathed inside her. "Taking me so deep like this... fuck, you're perfect." His voice was ragged with desire as he slowly pulled back before thrusting in again, establishing a steady rhythm. The darkness enhanced every sensation - the tightness of her pussy around his cock, the scent of her arousal, the way she clung to him for warmth.

He began to move inside her with slow, deep thrusts, his large hands holding her in place as he kept his cock buried inside her warm, wet cunt. Dripping just for him. It amazed him each and every time, how she was tailor made just for him. "Gonna keep you warm, baby," he muttered against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Gonna keep you wrapped up in my arms and my cock all night long." He picked up the pace slightly, his hips hitching forward to bury himself inside her with a soft grunt each time. "Fuck, you're so warm... so fucking warm. This is how you’re gonna keep me warm. With this perfect pussy.”

She whimpered and clung to him, her nails digging into his back as she felt every twitch of his cock as he kept himself deep inside her for a moment after every thrust. "Fuck I... Harry.” She bleated, her breath hitching as he filled her up completely. "You fuck me so good. More... more." she begged, her body starting to shake less from cold and more from the building heat between them. "S’working... you're warming me up." She nuzzled into his neck, the labored breaths washing over his skin.

"Mmm, that's right m’love." he groaned, feeling her tighten around him. "I'll keep you warm up all night long." His thrusts grew stronger, more urgent, his hips slapping against hers in the darkness. "God, I love how you squeeze me, baby..." He nipped at her earlobe, tongue tracing the shell. "Think I need t’keep my cock in you all night. What do you think?”

"Yes." she gasped, as he fucked up into her. "Keep it in me all night, please. Don't ever take it out." Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him close as she rocked her hips to meet his thrusts. "I need it, Harry. I need your cock inside me all the time." She moaned loudly, her voice echoing in the silent cabin as he continued to fuck her hard and fast, his thick length stretching her open with every push.

As they moved together, the blanket gradually slipped lower, revealing her little sleep tee and the swells of her breasts beneath it. He could feel the cool air kissing their skin, making him groan. There was something about the contrasts of hot skin and cool air that drove him mad. "Blanket's falling," he murmured, his fingers curling around her shoulder to keep it in place. "Should I let it drop?" He punctuated his question with a deep, rolling thrust that made her whimper and cling to him tighter.

"Okay, my sweet girl. Let me see you then." he purred as she nodded eagerly beneath him. The blanket fell away completely, pooled around their waists as he continued to thrust into her. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. "Keep grinding on me. Make sure t’keep my cock nice and warm for me, sweetheart." His breath was hot against the damp material, lips curling into a smirk as he felt a shudder run through her at the tease.

He latched onto one stiff peak through the cotton of her shirt, sucking hard as he continued to feel his cock sink her. She let out a high-pitched whine, her body bouncing shallowly on his lap as he ravished her sensitive nipples. The wet fabric clung to her skin,  going almost transparent to show the circles of her areolas. "So fucking hot," he mumbled against her breast, popping off to pay equal attention to its twin. His large hands gripped her hips, lifting her slightly to meet his thrusts.

She could feel his thick shaft throbbing inside her as she bounced on his lap, the sensation making her slightly dizzy. Her pussy clenched around him rhythmically, dripping onto his cock and balls with each movement. The wet, obscene sounds of their fucking filled the cabin, driving them both insane. It was filthy, it always was, but that’s what she liked about it. "Fuck, can you feel that?" He groaned, feeling her slick walls engulfing him. "Your pussy's leaking all over me, Y/N. So goddamn wet and messy."

His cock pulsed inside her dripping cunt, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He loved how her cream coated him, making his thrusts slick and effortless. "That's it, baby, squeeze my cock." He encouraged through gritted teeth, his hips snapping up to meet her bounces. "Gonna fuck this perfect pussy all night long until you're soaked in cum and sweat." He leaned in, capturing her lips in a sloppy kiss, swallowing her moans as he pounded into her relentlessly.

She was a mess on his lap, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked face, her shirt riding up to bunch up with its wet patches on her nipples, and her bare thighs trembling as she bounced on his fat cock. "Harry... Harry," she panted, her voice hoarse and broken as he continued to slam into her. "I can’t.”

He knew her well enough to hear the tone of her voice, notice her legs quaking and her bounces growing less enthusiastic. With a soft coo, he wrapped his arms around her and stood up, his cock still buried deep inside her. "Oh, my sweet baby. Legs giving out on me?" That was something he could easily take care of, laying her down on her back and settling between her spread thighs. "Don't worry, I'll do the work now. You just lay there n’let me keep you warm." 

Laying half on top of her, his arm wrapped around her to keep her tucked beneath him as he continued to fuck her. His chest pressed against her tits, his lips against her temple as he buried his face in her hair. The warmth of his body enveloped her, making her shiver with relief as he kept her covered and protected from the cold. His hips never slowed, his thick cock pounding into her relentlessly as he fucked her into the couch.

"There we are. That’s what m’girl needed, hm? Just needed me close, all the way inside you." he murmured against her temple as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. The new angle let him hit her perfectly, making her gasp and claw at his back. "Let me get that spot. Know just what you need." His weight pressed down on her, trapping her beneath him as he fucked her. One hand slid under her ass, tilting her hips to change the angle and make each thrust maximize her pleasure.

She was lost in a haze of warmth and pleasure, her legs locked around Harry's hips as he fucked her into the couch. Her arms wrapped around his back, clinging to him as he pressed her into the cushions with each thrust. "Oh my god." she whimpered, her voice muffled against his shoulder as she buried her face in his neck. "You’re keeping me so warm... don't stop, please don't stop..." Her body was jostled with each impact, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick length.

She was close to the edge. He knew it so well. It was in everything he could feel her walls fluttering around his cock, her breath hitching in her throat, and her fingers digging into his back. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged. "You're so close, I can feel it. Cum f’me, let me feel you fall apart on my cock." His hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased her orgasm. "Squeeze me, Y/N. Milk my cock with that tight little cunt."

Her entire body tensed, her back arching off the couch as she teetered on the edge. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears as she fought to hold back the impending orgasm. Her pussy was a vice around his cock, clenching and unclenching rhythmically as she struggled to contain the building pressure. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and her legs tightened around his hips, trying to keep him buried inside her as the climax threatened to consume her. It was too good- Y/N didn’t want it to end.

Harry knew all about it. "Let go for me, love... let go and feel me fill you up," he whispered urgent against her lips. "I wanna feel your sweet cunt milk every drop from my cock," he growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful. One hand slid between them to firmly press on her clit, pushing her over the edge. "Come on, baby... cum all over my cock," he encouraged hoarsely, his own release building in his balls. "Want to feel you dripping with my cum.” 

Her body never disobeyed him. He owned her in ways no one else ever had, and it was exactly why his permission had her falling over the edge, her vision blurring as the orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, clamping down as she came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her, each contraction milking his dick and forcing him deeper. Harry grunted, his hips jerking as he struggled to hold back his own climax. He rubbed her clit firmly, prolonging her orgasm as he fucked her through it, getting every drop of her pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Harry... please fill me up." she begged, her voice cracking with desperation. High off her orgasm and the need to make sure he was pleasured to, she needed it to feel complete. The feel of him throbbing inside of her was all the confirmation he needed. "I need your cum inside me... I need to feel you leaking out of me all night." She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, using her heels to push him deeper. "Cum. Cum in me. I need to feel it."

"Fuck!" He hissed, finally losing control. She was pleasured, she was comfortable, and he knew he could give in to his need. His cock swelled and he began to cum, pumping his hot seed deep into her. Right where it belonged. "Take it all, baby... take every fucking drop- fuck, I love you." He grunted, his hips jerking as he filled her completely. Harry could feel his cum leaking out around his still-pulsating shaft, creating an sticky, wet mess between them- his favorite. "God, you look so gorgeous like this... full of me."

She lay there, her eyes closed in bliss, a soft smile on her lips as she basked in the satisfaction of being filled with him. Her body felt heavy and relaxed, her mind drifting in a haze of contentment. She felt a little dribble of his cum escaping her full pussy, trailing down her thigh as she lay there, surrounded by him but it didn’t bother her. Harry was everywhere. Inside her, around her, on top of her… everywhere she always wanted him to be.

He gently kissed over her face, his lips brushing against her forehead, cheeks, and mouth in a tender, loving caress. This was what she deserved. Everything he could offer.. Once he was satisfied she was calm and comfortable, he tugged the blanket back over them, wrapping her up in his arms and his warmth.

He gazed down at her with a playful smirk, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Perhaps he’d gone overboard considering how she was now covered in a light sheen of sweat, but he loved the view. The feeling. Everything about her. "So, think I managed t’keep you warm enough?" His voice was soft, tinged with amusement. The blanket cocooned them, trapping their combined heat, wanting to ensure she wouldn't feel even the slightest chill. "Warmer than the cabin fire, surely?" He quirked an eyebrow, awaiting her response with an expectant grin.

He really could be a little shit sometimes.

She rolled her eyes playfully, snuggling deeper into his arms with a contented sigh. "Much warmer, you idiot. Almost too warm now.” She teased, fanning herself dramatically. "Guess we'll just have to endure being wrapped up in our sexy little blanket for the rest of the night." Her eyes tinged with trouble as she gazed up at him, her swollen lips curving into a sultry smirk. "Think you can handle keeping me this warm all night?" "Oh, I think I'm more than up for the challenge, gorgeous girl." he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth. “Think the storm isn’t going to end until the morning. We’ve got plenty of time to spend.”

[hellobykittys]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 ✦ 𝐋𝐇⁴⁴

SUMMARY: Upon discovering you’re pregnant with your boyfriend’s child, you find yourself spiraling into a wave of insecurities, fearing his potential negative reaction and the impact it could have on your relationship. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. PAIRING: Lewis Hamilton x Reader! Girlfriend. WARNING: Established relationship; mild angst; unplanned pregnancy. WC: 2.8k

MASTERLIST | THE (IM)PERFECT PLAN SERIE

It was the second time that day you found yourself leaning over the toilet, your stomach churning relentlessly. Breakfast and the light snack you’d had earlier—both meant to be simple—had already made their way there, and with each passing moment, your suspicions grew harder to ignore. Yet, you stubbornly refused to acknowledge what was right in front of you.

Two weeks had passed since your period was supposed to start, something completely out of the ordinary for you. Your cycle was always regular. In its place came the nausea and constant vomiting.

You didn’t know what to do. The thought of taking a test was too terrifying. It felt easier to pretend this was just a passing illness. After all, how could you possibly be pregnant? You and Lewis were always careful, taking every precaution.

“You need to take a test,” your friend Anne said as she held your hair back, preventing the mess from worsening.

“Anne, I don’t know if I want to know the answer.” You spoke between breaths, rising to rinse your mouth at the sink.

“Eventually, you’ll have to face it,” she said gently, her hand brushing over your back in a gesture of comfort. “If it’s true, you’re going to have to tell him.”

“I don’t even know if he wants to be with me, let alone a child. He’s going to hate this news.” Your tired, worried eyes stared back at you in the mirror. “I don’t know what to do.”

“He won’t hate it. He loves you, and I’m sure he’ll love having a child with you,” Anne said, trying to ease your anxiety. “Y/N, don’t believe what people say online. They just want to bring you down.”

“You don’t understand.” You turned to her, your eyes full of doubt. “We’ve never talked about it—about starting a family. Whenever the subject comes up, he changes it. At first, I thought it was because we’d only been together a short while, but now… I think he genuinely doesn’t want anything more serious.”

“But you’ve been together for two years! How could he not want something more serious?”

“He was with Nicole for seven years, and that wasn’t enough for him to marry her.” You lowered your head, your chest tightening. “Deep down, I think the media’s right. He probably just wants to stay free until the last day of his life. His whole world revolves around Formula 1. Family isn’t part of his plans. Only the eighth title matters.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. The weight of your words felt unbearable, but you couldn’t stop thinking them. The fear that this was all a mistake, that Lewis simply wasn’t ready for more, consumed you.

Anne noticed your distress and stepped closer, her hand resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I know it seems hard right now, but you can’t make these decisions on your own. You have to talk to him. He deserves to know, and you deserve to hear what he has to say.”

You turned to face her, your expression reflecting the emotional storm you were caught in. “And if he doesn’t want it? If he tells me he’s not ready, that what we have isn’t enough? What am I supposed to do with this baby? With this… life?”

“Then you’ll deal with it in your own way. This isn’t about what he wants—it’s about what you want, what you need. He may be the person you love, but don’t forget who you are and what you deserve.”

Anne’s words echoed in your mind, but the truth still felt distant, shrouded in uncertainty. It felt like you were standing at a crossroads with your life taking a direction you’d never planned for. Lewis, with his fast-paced existence of racing, titles, and adrenaline, seemed worlds apart from your quiet longing for stability—perhaps even a family. Something you weren’t even sure he shared.

In the end, you knew you couldn’t avoid reality any longer. The test needed to be done. Procrastination wasn’t an option anymore. The fear was overwhelming, but the uncertainty hurt worse. And, above all, the result would only be the beginning. The real challenge would be telling Lewis.

“Will you do this with me?” Your voice came out softer than expected, almost a whisper filled with vulnerability. You looked at Anne, searching her expression for a strength you felt you’d lost. “I mean, will you buy the test and wait for the result with me?”

Anne smiled reassuringly, taking your hand in hers with a firm grip. “Of course. And if you prefer, we can do this at my apartment. No rush, no pressure.”

You shook your head in refusal. “I think it’s better to do it here. He’s not coming back today… probably not until tomorrow night. Maybe even later.” The emptiness of the house felt less oppressive when you spoke aloud, but the apprehension was still palpable. “I just need the courage to go to the pharmacy.”

Anne squeezed your hand, her eyes full of understanding. “You don’t have to do this alone. Let’s go together. Let’s get this over with.”

The trip to the pharmacy was quick, but each step felt like a monumental challenge. The way back home seemed even longer, with the weight of the small package in your bag growing heavier by the second. Back at the apartment, you locked yourself in the bathroom while Anne waited outside, offering encouraging words that barely penetrated the storm in your mind.

You held the test in trembling hands, your eyes scanning the instructions like they were an impossible puzzle. Time seemed to freeze as you waited for the result, the silence broken only by the relentless pounding of your heart.

When you finally looked at the small display, reality crashed over you like a tidal wave. Positive.

Your breath caught in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at the lines that confirmed what you already suspected. Silent tears began to stream down your face as a flood of emotions—fear, anguish, and an inexplicable love for the new life now connected to you—washed over you.

“Well?” Anne’s soft, hesitant voice called from the other side.

You opened the door, holding the test in your trembling hand. Anne’s expression softened at the sight of your tears. She said nothing, simply pulling you into a tight embrace.

“What now?” you asked quietly, your voice laden with uncertainty.

Anne pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression calm but firm. “Now you take a deep breath, Y/N. Then, you tell him. No matter the fear, no matter the doubts. He deserves to know, and you deserve to be heard.”

You nodded slowly, but the lump in your throat remained. Her words were logical, exactly what you needed to hear, but the fear still loomed, beating loudly in your chest. How would you tell Lewis? How would you find the words that would change both your lives forever?

“Anne…” Your voice came out shaky, barely a whisper, as you wrapped your arms around her tightly, searching for any fragment of comfort. “I’m so scared. What if he… what if he doesn’t want this baby?”

Anne sighed, her hand gently rubbing your back with patience. “Y/N, even if he doesn’t, which I honestly find hard to believe, you’ll move forward. You’re stronger than you think.” She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her gaze full of conviction. “If you want to have this baby, that’s all that matters. We’ll take care of it. I won’t leave you alone, ever.”

You closed your eyes, trying to absorb her words, but the weight of the situation still felt unbearable. “But what if he leaves me, Anne? What if he thinks this was a mistake? That I was careless?”

Anne cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at her. “He loves you. And even if the idea scares him at first, he’s a good man, Y/N. But more than anything, you need to remember that his love isn’t the only thing that matters here. What do you feel? What do you want? That matters, too.”

Her question hung in the air, echoing in your mind as you tried to find an answer. Deep down, you knew what you wanted. You loved Lewis with all your heart, and despite the fear consuming you, you already felt an inexplicable love for the life growing inside you. But bridging those two feelings felt impossible.

As you stared at the positive test sitting on the bedside table, your heart pounded relentlessly, racing with uncertainty. That tiny object seemed to carry the weight of all your doubts and fears. You knew you couldn’t put off talking to Lewis forever, but the thought of confronting him was paralyzing. Each passing second only tightened the knot in your throat.

He was supposed to return the following morning, giving you one night to organize your thoughts, find the right words, and somehow gather the courage that felt so far away. But now, as the reality began to settle in, you decided to push it aside for a while. You needed to distract yourself, to focus on taking care of yourself—and the baby you now carried.

In the kitchen, you started preparing something simple to eat. The thought of being responsible for another life made every small action feel significant. You couldn’t ignore your health or choices anymore. Everything you did was for two now. And though the anxiety still throbbed in your mind, there was a small, strange comfort in that realization.

You were slicing fruit when the sound of the front door opening suddenly broke the silence of the house. Your heart nearly stopped for a moment. He wasn’t supposed to be back until the next morning.

“Y/N?” Lewis’s voice echoed from the living room, heavy with exhaustion and surprise.

You turned to see him standing in the hallway, still holding his travel bag. He was dressed casually in a black jacket and his signature travel cap. His eyes locked on you, then shifted to the plate of fruit on the counter before softening into a smile.

“I decided to come back early. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He approached, leaving the bag by the wall to pull you into a warm hug. The heat of his body against yours brought immediate comfort—but also a new weight.

You weren’t ready. Not yet. But the moment seemed to have chosen him—or fate had.

“Are you okay?” Lewis asked, pulling back just enough to study your face. His expression was laced with concern.

“I’m… I’m fine. Just tired.” Your voice came out low, but you knew he would sense something was off. Lewis always did.

His brows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head, his gaze probing. “You sure? You seem a little distant.”

With him standing there, just a few steps away, the idea of telling him felt even more daunting. Fear wrapped itself around your chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. Fear that the news could change everything between you, fear that the love you shared wouldn’t be enough to face what was coming. So, for at least one more night, you decided to delay. Tomorrow would be the right time. Tonight, you just wanted to savor your last moment of peace with him—if everything changed afterward.

But the memory of the test sitting on the bedside table sent a fresh wave of panic through you. If Lewis went into the bedroom now, he’d see it. There was no way to hide it in time.

“Nothing’s wrong, love.” You forced a smile, leaning up to kiss him, his lips still warm from the chill outside. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll take your bag and be right back, okay?”

Before you could grab his bag, Lewis held onto it firmly, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to do that. I can carry my own bag.” He smiled, the kind of smile that always made your heart flutter, and slung the strap back over his shoulder. “I’ll shower and then we can pick a movie, yeah?”

“No, seriously, let me.” You insisted, your voice slightly too quick. “You must be exhausted. Just relax, I’ll handle it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing your unease, but didn’t argue further. “Y/N, I’m not made of glass. I can carry my own luggage.”

Without another word, you followed him to the bedroom, your heart racing with every step. Lewis placed his bag by the wardrobe but lingered, his gaze drifting back to you.

“You’re acting weird,” he commented with a small smile, though he didn’t press further. “I’ll take a quick shower and be back. Pick us a good movie.”

As soon as he entered the bathroom and the door closed, you let out the breath you had been holding and quickly made your way to the bedside table. With swift movements, you grabbed the test and hid it in the deepest drawer, pushing it down beneath a few papers. When you finished, the relief was immediate, but brief.

You left the room and returned to the kitchen, trying to distract yourself with anything else. You prepared a bowl of fruit and placed it on the counter, but your mind couldn’t help but drift back to the inevitable moment that was coming.

Minutes later, sensing something was off with Lewis’s delay, you decided to return to the bedroom. When you opened the door, your heart nearly stopped at the sight before you. Lewis was sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on the pregnancy test he was holding in his hand.

“Lewis…” your voice came out weak, barely a whisper.

He looked up, and for a moment, you couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t relief either. It was something in between—confusion, perhaps.

“How long have you known?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

The question hit you like a punch. “What? Lewis, I—”

“Were you hiding this from me?” He stood up, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and hurt. “Did you think you could handle this alone?”

“I didn’t… I just found out!” you retorted, feeling your eyes well up. “I didn’t even have time to think, to process. I was going to tell you, Lewis!”

But he didn’t seem to hear you. He ran his hands through his hair, clearly trying to organize his thoughts.

“I thought we were a couple, Y/N. That we trusted each other.”

Those words hit you cruelly, a blow to your vulnerability. “Lewis, I wasn’t hiding anything! I just… I didn’t have the courage to take the test until today. I needed a moment. A second to process what was happening to me.”

He paused, studying your face, his dark eyes softening as his anger dissolved into understanding. Finally, he shook his head, the weight of the tension lifting from his shoulders.

“When were you planning on telling me?” he asked, his voice quieter, but still firm.

“I was going to tell you tomorrow,” you rushed to explain, almost pleading for him to believe you. “I just… I didn’t know how to do it. Lewis, please, believe me.”

His expression changed completely. Without saying another word, he walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. The warmth of his body was comforting, but what struck you the most was the soft sound of a sob. He was crying.

“You should’ve told me as soon as you suspected,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to be here with you when you took the test.”

“Are… are you happy?” you asked hesitantly, the words coming out in a whisper full of doubt.

He pulled back slightly, cradling your face in his big, warm hands. A smile broke through the tears streaming down his face.

“Of course I’m happy, my love.” His voice was low, but full of conviction. “This baby is a piece of our love. How could I not be happy?”

You collapsed into his arms, your head resting on his strong chest as tears flowed freely down your face. The relief and love you felt in that moment were overwhelming.

“You have no idea how scared I was,” you confessed through sobs. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want this baby… that you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

He held you even tighter, impossibly so, and kissed the top of your head, lingering in the gesture.

“I would never do that, Y/N. Never.” He sighed, his voice thick with emotion. “You mean everything to me. And now, we’re going to be a family. I just wish I’d been there with you from the start.”

His words were a balm, soothing the storms that had built in your heart over the past few weeks.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, still hidden against his chest.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he replied, gently stroking your hair. “We’re both learning. But now that I know… I promise you’ll never face any of this alone again.”

You stayed like that for long minutes, not needing any more words. The moment was just for the two of you, and nothing seemed more important than the future you were beginning to build together.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 14

Word Count- 5.3k

Warnings- Sexual innuendos (if you’re dirty-minded), swearing, violence, death, blood, Klaus is a dick🙃

“Wait so the students get together and just trash the school,” Alastair questions as he pulls his Porsche into the school parking lot. 

I roll my eyes and sigh at yet another question from him about tonight as we both step out of the car. 

“Like the one-hundred other times you’ve asked, no we are not trashing the school, we’re setting up pranks,” I frown at the thought, “Ok. Maybe it is slightly trashing the school.”

“Ok, that’s great. I guess,” He mutters as he puts his arm around my shoulders as we walk towards the front door. 

“What I don’t get though, is why I have to come?”

I brush his hand off my shoulder and move to open the door before he can do it. He rolls his eyes at my antics and I smile as I motion for him to enter first.

“Age before beauty,” I smirk, “And you have to go because Elena and Caroline are making me go. And you said you’ve never been to a public school and this’ll be your first and last year of it. So we’re putting out all the stops. Besides you’re my side piece, I have to bring you.”

Alastair begins to say something but the sound of his phone dinging stops him. I watch in silence as he picks it up to read what text he just got. But I frown when his usually happy face shifts. His jaw clenches and his right eye twitches as he reads the message. 

“Is everything ok?”

Alastair eyes shift to me for a moment as if forgetting I was here. He quickly writes off a message, puts the phone back into his pocket, and then nods at me.

“Ya,” His tone cold, “I’m fine. Let’s just get this night over with.”

At his harsh and cold tone, I frown.

“If something is wrong you can tell me, y’know. That’s what friends do,” I quietly tell him as I try to keep up with his long strides. 

“I’m fine,” He says back without sparing me a glance.

“Really, if somethings the-”

“I said I’m fine,” I flinch back slightly as Alastair bites back at me and I feel my hands start to shake.

“I’m sorry. I um..,” I bite down hard on my lower lip, “I’m sorry.”

I can see Alastair finally face me out of my peripheral but I just focus on the door ahead as I open it.

“Y/N. I didn’t-”

A high-pitched squealing cuts out Alastair's voice. 

“You guys are finally here,” Caroline’s high-pitched voice assaults my ears as I’m being grabbed by two strong arms and wrapped into a hug.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!”

I laugh slightly at Caroline’s comment, “Caroline, it’s only been like a week?”

Caroline leans back to give me a roll of her eyes, “Well you’ve missed a lot,” She shoots a glance at Alastair who has made his way over to Tyler, “I’ll tell you about it later. But right now we have a lot of work to do!”

Caroline practically skips away as she gestures to what I now see are mouse traps that litter the left side of the classroom.

“We need to get all these,” She gestures to the traps on the desks, “Everywhere!”

I look around at the classroom and then at Bonnie and Elena who are both laughing at Caroline's enthusiasm. As soon as I see Bonnie I begin to walk over to her since I haven’t seen her all summer but a flash of blonde fills my vision.

“You guys can catch up later. We are on a tight schedule right now. So get moving!”

Caroline thrusts a bag of mouse traps into my arms and then walks over to Alastair and does the same. I watch my friend look at the traps and then take a deep breath.

“She’s been like this all night,” Elena whispers as she makes her way over to me.

I kneel to the floor and start placing the traps as I talk with her, “She’s always like this.”

Elena mutters out a “true” as she starts placing traps down as well. I glance up and make eye contact with my witch friend who gives me a smile and a friendly wave. I replicated that as I glanced at Caroline to ensure she didn’t notice. Thankfully she’s complaining to Tyler about not going fast enough. 

—-

I’m just about to place my last trap when I hear the door to the classroom open. I go to yell at the person to stop, but sadly it’s too late. I watch in defeat as all the mouse traps ignite and snaps are heard across the room. 

“Oh, come on,” Caroline exclaims, “Seriously? Do you know how long it took for us to set all this up?”

I glare at Matt Donovan as he stands there looking at all of us sheepishly.

“Forgot about senior prank night, huh,” Tyler questions his friend.

“Clearly.”

Caroline is repulsed by this answer, “How could you forget? We’ve only been waiting for this since like freshman year.”

“Yeah, Matt. If I’m doing this, you’re doing this,” Elena chimes in and I nod along with her because I would much rather be home. Especially since I had another one of my little heart attacks today. Luckily this one lasted only a few minutes unlike others this summer that lasted much longer. 

Damon caught me a month ago having one and made me make a doctor’s appointment to get it checked out. To which I accused him of actually liking me and having a heart. He denied that of course and said it was because he didn’t want me dying in his house and getting my dead person stench everywhere. 

Two weeks later he drove me to some fancy heart doctor in the city and of course, with my luck, the doctor was stumped. Saying he doesn’t see anything wrong on any of the tests he’s done. When I left he said he’d ask around to some of his doctor friends and let me know if they know anything. But, that was over a month ago and I haven’t heard back from him. 

“I’m kind of surprised any of you are doing this,” Matt says.

“Caroline’s making us,” Bonnie says.

“Y/n’s making me,” Alastair smirks at me but I turn away from him.

“We’re about to be seniors. These are the memories that’ll stay with us forever, and if…”

“And if we don’t create these memories now,” Elena interjects, “Then what’s the point of it all?”

“Go ahead and make fun, I don’t care,” I laugh as Caroline shrugs everyone’s teasing off.

“You’re all lame,” Tyler walks by us with bags in his hands, “I’ve got ten more classrooms to prank.”

I frown as I feel I tugging on my hand and I realize I’m being pulled up by Elena. 

“Excuse me?”

“Hey! Where are you going,” Bonnie asks and I have the same question as Elena leads me to the door. I see Alastair start to follow us but Caroline stops him by shoving a bag into his hands. 

“We’re going to go superglue Alaric’s desk shut. We’re making memories,” Elena smiles at them and then squeezes my hand as she leads me out into the hall. I hear Caroline yell out to us and Elena giggles back. 

“I feel like this could’ve been a one-woman job,” I raise my eyebrow at Elena who shrugs.

“I haven’t seen you all week, I missed you,” She sheepishly says the last part and I smile at my friend.

“Well our manager has been making Alastair and I take practically all the shifts,” I explain and then squeeze her hand, “But I missed you too.”

Elena smiles at me as she pushes a door open for me. As we turn the corner she stops to an abrupt halt though and grips my hand so hard I think she might break it. I go to question what's wrong but as soon as I look up I realize what’s scared her. Actually, not a what. A who, Klaus. 

“There’s my girl,” Klaus’ accent fills my ears for the first time in months and a wave of nausea and something else washes over me. 

“Klaus,” Elena exhales quickly and then begins to pull me back with her but as we turn around Klaus speeds in front of us. I feel my hands start to shake and Elena must feel this too because she uses our connected hands to push me behind her protectively. 

“You’re supposed to be dead. What are we going to do about that,” Klaus asks and within a moment he’s grabbing her roughly making our hands fall away from each other. I go to help her but Klaus glares at me.

“Don’t,” The way he bites out the word makes me halt and I have no idea what to do.

As I’m looking at Klaus I don’t think he has any idea what to do with me either as he seems to be thinking over something in his mind. I hear him growl something under his breath and then whip around.

“Follow,” Klaus’ bark instantly has me slightly jogging to catch up with my friend and him as he leads us down the hall.

“You put a rather large kink in my plans, sweetheart. The whole point of breaking the curse and becoming a hybrid was to make more hybrids. I haven't been able to do that. Now my bet is, it has something to do with the fact that you’re still breathing.”

My breathing comes out shallow as I’m literally jogging now to keep up with them through all the halls and doors he’s leading us through. I want nothing more than to get my friend away from him but pissing Klaus off would only result in someone’s death.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it!”

“Not until I know I’m right. But I do have ways of making you suffer.”

—

Klaus thrusts open one last door and we’re entering the currently packed gym where students are placing cups and other pranks around. 

“Attention, seniors. You have officially been busted. Prank night is over,” Klaus yells to the students in what I think is some kind of American accent. One that makes me want to put thumbtacks into my ears, “Head on home.”

“You two,” He stops Dana and Chad, “I remember you.”

Dana looks at him confused, “I’m sorry. Who are you?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t in my right mind last time we met. Lift your foot up, please, Dana,” Klaus compels the girl and I frown as she does.

“If she drops her foot, Chad, I want you to beat her to death. Understood?”

My eyes widen and a shocked gasp escapes my mouth as I watch in fear as Chad nods.

“Don’t, Klaus. You don’t have to hurt anybody.”

“Oh, come on, love. Of course, I do.”

“Why? To show everyone just how scary you are by killing teenagers? Why not pick on someone your own size, or age, for once,” I angrily say to the man whose spine seems to straighten out as he hears my voice. 

Klaus turns to me and his playful smirk morphs into a dark look as he makes eye contact with me, “When did I say you could speak?”

I try not to let his dark tone and look sway my confidence but this guy really freaks me the fuck out, “I didn’t know I needed your permission,” My voice shakes and I’m hoping he doesn't notice, but by the way his mouth turns into a snarl I think he heard it.

Klaus drops Elena’s arm and slowly stalks towards me like a predator stalking its prey. I think I hear Elena try to get him to stop but all I can focus on is Klaus’ blue eyes that seem to darken as he stalks closer to me. I wait for the worst to happen as he gets a foot away from me but he halts when something diverts his eye. I follow his line of vision to see him staring at my neck. I take a deep breath and wait for him to sink his teeth into me and probably kill me as he reaches his hand up, but I frown when his fingers graze my necklace. The wolf one I had gotten for my birthday. The one Alastair swears didn’t come from him. 

Klaus’ snarl turns into a slight frown as he rubs the wolf one last time and then looks me in the eyes. 

“Go sit down,” He doesn’t give me time to argue with him as he goes back over to Elena who gestures for me to go and sit down on the bleachers. I only do because of the pleading look on my best friend’s face.

—

I watch silently in fear as Dana struggles to keep her foot raised. Elena questions Klaus about Stefan’s whereabouts but Klaus shrugs her off. The sound of a door opening turns all of our attention. Fear washes over me as Bonnie and Matt enter. 

“No!”

“Bonnie get out of here,” Elena and I both yell to them but it’s too late.

Klaus speeds over to Bonnie, “Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up. Now we can get started. Ah, Dana, why don’t you relax? You and Chad sit tight,” He yells to the two innocent teens and I feel tears fall down my cheeks as Dana falls into her boyfriend's arms in pain.

I stand up to go help them.

“SIT,” Klaus’ booming voice makes me shake as I helplessly sit back down on the bleachers. 

“I assume you’re the reason Elena is still walking around alive? That’s right. If you want to blame someone, blame me,” Bonnie tells the man.

“Oh, there’s no need for blame, love. Just your witchy interference seems to have caused some undesirable side effects. And since you caused the problem I’m going to have you find the fix.”

Right when Klaus is done explaining to Bonnie his plan the door is pushed open and a pretty blond walks in with Tyler in her grasp. 

“Get off me!”

“Hush now,” The blonde shushes him in an accent like Klaus’.

“I’d like you all to meet my sister…Rebekah,” At the mention of yet another Original I grab my already shaking hands in comfort, “Word of warning, she can be quite mean.”

“Don’t be an arse,” Rebekah says as she pushes Tyler into Klaus’ arms. 

“Leave him alone!”

“I’m going to make this very simple,” Klaus drags an injured Tyler, “Every time I attempt to turn a werewolf into a vampire hybrid they die during the transition. It’s quite horrible, actually,” We all freeze as Klaus bites into his wrist and shoves it into Tyler’s mouth.

“I need you to find a way to save my hybrids, Bonnie. And for Tyler’s sake…you better hurry.”

Gasps are heard around the room as we watch Klaus snap Tyler’s neck and throw his body onto the floor next to him.

I watch petrified with tears streaming down my face as Klaus smiles happily at Elena, Bonnie, and Matt. 

“He killed him,” Matt says as he sits next to his friend’s dead body.

“He’s not dead. Klaus’ blood will turn him into a vampire.”

“And if Bonnie’s successful he’ll live through his transition,” He turns to Bonnie, “Go on then. Go and fetch your grimoires and enchantments and whatnot. I’ll hold onto Elena for safekeeping.”

Bonnie gives Elena one last glance and then runs out of the room with Matt. 

“So this is the latest doppelganger,” Girl-Klaus taunts Elena, “The original one was much prettier.”

“They look the same,” I say out loud, “That’s like the whole point of doppelgangers. I’m sure the library has dictionaries if you need to look it up.”

My voice draws the woman’s attention and she growls at me. I realize being bitchy to an original vampire wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I try to look tough as she comes over to me but with the dried tears on my face, I guess I look pretty pathetic. 

“And who the hell are you,” Rebekah starts stalking towards me and I stand up from my seat. 

“Y/N, Elena’s friend,” I lift my chin and try to sound confident.

Rebekah smiles at me but it is the farthest thing from friendly, within a second she reaches her hand up and I close my eyes fearing for the worst but nothing happens.

“Don’t,” Klaus’ voice fills my ears and I open my eyes to see his back in front of me blocking me from his sister’s view. 

“She’s nothing! Come on brother let me have a little fun! She insulted me,” Rebekah's annoyed voice sounds as she tries to reason with her brother.

“And you insulted her friend,” Klaus says and then leans down slightly to be face to face with his sister, “Now back up,” The last sentence comes out so low I can barely hear it. But the anger in Klaus’ voice is evident enough to have his sister taking several steps back. 

Klaus turns around for a moment and if I’m not mistaken it would appear that he’s looking me over. His blue eyes make their way over my tear-covered face and the movement of his hand catches my eye. I watch as he clenches and unclenches his right hand before it’s shoved into the pocket of his jeans. 

A growl escapes Klaus’ mouth catching my attention. He doesn’t spare me another glance as he marches back over to Elena. 

Rebekah who stands maybe 5 feet away from me looks at me with a deep frown on her face. One mixed with what I think to be confusion. 

“What did you say your name was,” She questions. This time less hostile and more inquisitive.

“Y/n…”

Rebekah keeps staring at me as if she can’t figure out something.

“Sister, take the wolf-boy elsewhere,” Klaus beckons his sister and Rebekah shoots me one last look before grabbing Tyler’s arm and dragging him out of the room.

—-

I sit silently on the bleachers as Elena comforts Dana and Chad. Klaus sits comfortably on the ground as if this is an everyday experience for him. Which it probably is. My ass starts to hurt from the hard bleachers and let out a low groan. 

“Excuse me,” I try to get Klaus’ attention but realize he’s already looking at me. 

Klaus’ eyes narrow as he looks at me, “What?”

“Can I get up,” I gesture to the bleachers, “My ass hurts.”

For a split second, I could swear Klaus’ upper lip twitches but in a moment his cold look is back. He seems to think for a moment then smirks, “Either keep sitting on those bleachers and bruise your ass, or…,” He narrows his eyes at me and glances at a crying Dana, “You can switch spots with Little Dana here.”

Klaus seems to be proud of himself or something believing that I’m going to shut up and stay seated but without a second thought, I stand up from my spot on the bleachers and walk towards Dana.

“Y/N, no,” I hear Elena whisper to me as I grab Dana’s arm and push her to go sit on the bleachers. She sends me a teary-eyed smile and I turn to look at Klaus, who once again is already looking at me, and balance myself as I lift my left foot. 

Klaus glares at me and I hold eye contact with him for so long that my foot starts to shake. He looks down at my wobbly leg and a shit-eating grin makes its way onto his face. I watch as he stands from his seated position and makes his way over to me. He stops in front of me and turns his head mockingly to the side. 

“How long do you think it’ll take before you fall onto your knees before me,” Klaus says and my knees shake involuntarily.

“I’ve got great calves so I could do this all night wolf-boy,” I say and Klaus raises his eyebrows in slight surprise before slowly dragging his eyes down my body towards my calves.

“You’re not wrong,” He says under his breath before looking back up to me. 

The sound of a door opening alerts us all and a relieved sigh leaves me as I see Stefan enter the gym. 

“Stefan,” Elena exhales. 

“Klaus,” Stefan calls out to the man in front of me who rolls his eyes.

“Come to save your damsel, mate?”

“I came to ask for your forgiveness. And pledge my loyalty.”

Stefan’s words have me frowning, “Excuse me? Pledge your loyalty to this dictator,” I throw up a finger to Klaus who rolls his eyes at me. 

“Well, you broke that pledge once already,” Klaus says like a hurt little boy.

“Elena means nothing to me anymore,” Ya ok, “And whatever you ask of me… I will do.”

Klaus thinks for a moment before turning around, “Fair enough. Let’s drink on it. Kill them.”

I gasp as Klaus points to Dana and Chad who are sitting together on the bleachers. 

“What are you waiting for? Kill them.”

“No! Stefan, don’t. He’s not going to hurt me. He already said,” Elena tries to reason with her boyfriend but is stopped as Klaus hits her across the face. 

I loud gasp escapes me and I drop my foot not even caring if it gets me killed as I rush towards my best friend. 

I grab Elena and check her over for any wounds as she watches Stefan and Klaus fight behind us. 

“She means nothing to you? Your lies just keep piling up,” Klaus says as he holds Stefan by the throat.

“Let her and Y/n go! I’ll do whatever you want, you have my word!”

“Your word doesn’t mean much. I lived by your word all summer during which time I never had to resort to this. Stop fighting.”

“Don’t do this, don’t do this.”

“I didn’t want to. All I wanted was your allegiance. Now I’m going to have to take it. You will do exactly as I say when I say it. You will not run, you will not hide you will simply just obey.”

I watch in horror as I realize that Klaus is compelling away Stefan’s free will. Elena and I both watch horrified as Stefan stands there like a zombie. 

“Now kill them…Ripper.”

Before I can see anything Elena grabs me into her arms and pushes my head into her neck. I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear Dana and Chad’s terrified screams and then the drop of their bodies. Tears fall from my cheeks and from the dampness on my shoulder I can tell Elena is crying as well. 

Klaus leans down towards Elena and me and shoves Elena away from me. My butt falls onto the ground and I watch as Klaus starts taunting my friend.

“It’s always nice to see a vampire in his true element. The species has become such a broody lot.”

“No. You did this to him,” Elena growls out. I look over to Stefan as he shamefully wipes Dana and Chad’s blood off his chin and I have to swallow the bile rising up my throat. 

“I invited him to the party, love. He’s the one dancing on the table.”

“You’re a monster,” I bite out at the man.

Klaus stands up and walks over to me. He looks down at me and smirks, “I’m the monster, princess,” Klaus leans down slightly and his smirk deepens. He raises a finger and mockingly wipes a stray tear off my face, “And you, are on your knees in front of this monster.”

I look down at my kneeled position and can’t seem to care what me not keeping one fucking foot up means. All I know is that I hate this man in front of me.

“Go fuck yourself,” I bite out at him and his smirk deepens.

He leans down further so our faces are almost touching and whispers out, “Such nasty words from such a pretty mouth.”

“Where is it? Where’s my necklace?”

Rebekah running into the room and towards Elena diverts Klaus’ attention from me. 

“What are you talking about?”

“She has my necklace. Look,” Rebekah accuses Elena as she hands her brother a phone.

Klaus inspects something on the device before looking over to Elena, “Well, well. More lies.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t have it anymore,” Elena responds.

“You’re lying,” Rebekah yells and flashes towards Elena and rips into her neck. 

I jump up in surprise and run to help my friend but Klaus has already pushed his sister away. 

“Knock it off!”

“Make her tell me, Nik!”

Klaus places his hands to his lips and kneels down next to Elena as I hold her shoulders, “Where’s the necklace, sweetheart? Be honest.”

I quickly grab the sweater I’m wearing and drag it over my head, leaving me only in my white tank top, and quickly press it to Elena’s neck. I look to Klaus who keeps eye contact with me until Elena speaks up.

“I’m telling the truth. Katherine stole it.”

Klaus sighs, “Katerina. Of course. Well, that’s unfortunate. If we had the necklace it would make things a whole lot easier for your witch, but since we’re doing this the hard way,” Klaus stands up and walks over to the control pad for the scoreboard, “Let’s put a clock on it. Shall we?”

A loud buzzer sounds, “Twenty minutes. If Bonnie hasn’t found a solution by then I want you to feed again, only this time,” He walks over to face Stefan, “I want you to feed on Elena. You know you want to.”

“No, Klaus. Don’t do this to him,” Elena begs.

“No one leaves. If she tries to run, fracture her spine,” Klaus walks by me grabbing my upper arm and pulling me, “You’re with me.”

—

As soon as we’re out of the gym Klaus drops my arm and rubs his hand on his jeans. 

“If anyone here has cooties it’s you,” I whisper out but he must’ve heard it as he rolls his eyes. 

“You sit,” Klaus motions towards the wall and I sigh.

I sit and watch silently as Rebekah and Klaus converse with one another a few feet away from me. 

“You’re not going to let him kill her,” I say out loud from my spot. Klaus and Rebekah both look my way and Klaus narrows his eyes at me.

“Is that so?”

“I mean I would think so. Unless you’re an idiot.”

This comment seems to ruffle some of Klaus’ feathers as he narrows his eyes at me and stalks toward me. Rebekah watches silently from her spot.

“I am not an idiot,” Klaus says and I raise an eyebrow staring up at him.

“I never said you were. I said you would be an idiot. That’s two different things.”

Klaus stares at me and once again it looks like he’s fighting an internal battle, “Do you always talk this much?”

“No. At least not usually. Alastair says…” 

I stop my sentence when I remember my friend is still somewhere in this school. At least I think he is. I hope to god he left when all the other students did. 

“Alastair?”

Klaus turns his head to the side questionably.

“You look like a puppy when you do that, y’know,” I snarkily chime out and am almost as surprised with my confidence as Klaus seems to be. 

A snort is heard from behind him and I look to see Rebekah covering her laugh with a cough. Her brother sends her a deadly glare and she instantly sobers up.

Klaus turns back towards me and leans down to face me again, “Just because I didn’t kill you back there. That doesn’t mean I won’t do it now. Watch your tongue, princess. Before I rip it out.”

I hold my breath as Klaus stands back up and he seems to hear something as he turns his head. Without a second glance at me or his sister Klaus speeds away. 

—

“Are you suicidal,” Rebekah’s voice catches my attention. I look over at her and see her watching me with an almost amazed look.

“Not currently,” I bite out.

“How long have you known my brother,” She questions.

I shake my head in annoyance, “Why?”

Just like her brother, she narrows her eyes at me, “Answer the question.”

I close my eyes and lean my head against the lockers I’m seated against, “I’ve had like two conversations with the guy.”

“That’s impossible,” She responds and I groan as I open my eyes.

“Well, it’s the truth.”

We both sit in silence for a moment staring at each other. After a moment Rebekah takes a step forward and I tense up against the lockers.

“Calm down. I’m not going to touch you. I just want to get a closer look at you,” She says.

“Why?”

Rebekah kneels in front of me and I watch wide-eyed and silently unnerved as she marks every spot of my face with her eyes. 

“Is there-”

“Shhh.”

Okay.

Rebekah leans in a little closer and for a second I’m wondering if this girl is going to kiss me or bite into my neck but a gasp escapes her lips and she leans back on his hands.

“It’s you,” She whispers in awe.

“Excuse me?”

“Your eyes…”

“What about my eyes?”

“REBEKAH,” Klaus’ loud voice is heard through the halls and Rebekah quickly moves away from me. 

Klaus storms down the hall and glares at his sister. I watch in confusion as they have a silent conversation with their eyes before Klaus begins walking down the hall.

“Follow.”

—

I follow Klaus and Rebekah into a classroom. The latter keeps making me feel uneasy with her staring. 

“Well, the verdicts in. The original witch says the doppelganger should be dead.” Klaus says to who I can now see is Caroline and Tyler.

“Does that mean we can kill her,” Rebekah asks excitedly and I shoot her a nasty look. 

“No, I’m fairly certain it means the opposite,” Within a second Rebekah is grabbing onto Caroline holding her back as Klaus gives Tyler a vial of Elena’s blood. The latter drinks it. And in a split second, he’s convulsing on the floor and groaning in pain. I flinch back when Tyler screams in pain as he grabs his head. But when he stops and opens his eyes I gasp as I see his once brown eyes have illuminated to gold and dark veins make their way up his face. 

“Well, that’s a good sign.”

—

“Where are you taking me,” I ask Klaus as he leads me out of the school doors and into the parking lot. 

“Stop talking,” He bites out.

I roll my eyes and continue walking but freeze in horror as I see Alastair leaning against his car. He notices me and Klaus and stands to his full height.

“Alastair go!”

I run and try to warn him but as I get to him he doesn’t even look me in the eye. He’s staring behind me. At Klaus. 

“I’ll be leaving to find more wolves, mate,” I frown as Klaus speaks to my friend. 

“Shall I come,” My vision goes blurry as I watch in shock as Alastair responds to Klaus.

“Alastair…”

“No,” Klaus looks over to me with a smirk, “You’re still needed here.”

“What… Alastair what is he talking about, how do you-”

“Get in the car, Y/N,” Alastair’s cold voice says to me as he moves past me and opens the passenger door to his car. He doesn’t move his gaze away from Klaus who watches the interaction with a delighted smirk. 

“No! No! Not until you tell me what’s happening. You know him,” I yell and point in confusion and anger to Klaus. 

Alastair doesn’t look at me but he clenches his jaw.

“Get her home safe,” Klaus smirks at me, “Old friend.”

[cupcakeeees]

“She exists now only in my memory..”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a glimpse into an F1 racer’s guarded heart.

word count: 1k

Dear Diary,

Year 1: The Beginning

The first time I met her, it was late summer in Monaco. I was standing by the marina, pretending not to be as lost as I felt. The sun was setting behind the yachts, and the air smelled like salt and fresh starts.

That’s when I saw her. She wasn’t like anyone else. She had this way of existing - like the world bent toward her without her even realizing it.

She’d dropped her book while passing and I’d instinctively bent down to grab it.

Our hands brushed for a split second.

“Thanks,” she’d said, her voice soft but certain. I couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so I just blurted out, “What’s the book?”

That question turned into an hour-long conversation, sitting on the edge of the dock, our legs dangling over the water. She teased me for not having read her favorite author; I challenged her to name three F1 drivers.

“Bet you can’t even name me,” I’d joked.

She’d tilted her head, her smile mischievous. “I know who you are, Norris!”

Year 3: A Year Apart

I didn’t see her again for over a year.

Monaco wasn’t home anymore - it was just a place I passed through. Racing had taken me everywhere but where I wanted to be.

When I spotted her at a party, it felt like déjà vu. She stood across the room, glass in hand, laughing at some joke I hadn’t told.

I thought about walking up to her right away, but something held me back.

She looked .. different.

Like the pieces of her had rearranged in ways I didn’t recognize.

Finally, she noticed me. Her smile was the same, but her hug felt hesitant, like she wasn’t sure where I fit in her life anymore.

“You’ve been busy,” she’d said, her tone light but her eyes heavy.

“Yeah,” I replied, though I didn’t know if she meant the races or the distance I’d put between us.

We exchanged numbers again, promising to “catch up soon.” But soon turned into months, then silence.

Year 5: Everything and Nothing

That summer in London was everything I’d ever wanted - and nothing like I thought it would be.

We’d spent weeks wrapped in each other’s lives, her laughter filling the quiet moments I didn’t know I’d needed. She made me feel human again.

One night, as we sat on her balcony, a bottle of wine between us she leaned her head on my shoulder.

“What’s next for you?” she asked.

“Another race,” I said with a shrug. “And after that, another one.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time, just traced the rim of her glass with her finger. Finally, she asked, “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to stop?”

“Stop?” I repeated, as if the word itself didn’t make sense. “I don’t know how to.”

She sighed, pulling away slightly. “I know.”

That was the beginning of the end. By August, she was packing up her life, and I was leaving for yet another circuit.

She didn’t ask me to stay, and I didn’t ask her to come with me.

I think we both knew how it would go.

Year 8: The Last Goodbye

It was an accident- running into her in Amsterdam. I was at a café, waiting for my coffee, when I heard her voice behind me. I knew it was her before I even turned around.

She looked radiant, her happiness lighting up the room in a way that made my chest ache.

“Lando!” she exclaimed, her surprise genuine. “It’s been ages.”

I laughed nervously, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. You look good.”

“So do you.”

We talked for a while - small talk that felt too big and too small all at once. She mentioned her partner casually, as if it wouldn’t crush me to hear it.

“He’s great,” she said, her smile soft. “He makes me really happy.”

“That’s good,” I replied, though my voice cracked slightly.

When she stood to leave, she hesitated, her hand brushing my arm. “See you around, Lando.”

“Yeah, you too!”

And then she was gone, walking out into the rainy street, leaving me staring after her like I’d lost her all over again.

The Present:

Years later, I found out she was gone. A friend told me, so casually it felt cruel. An accident, they said.

It didn’t feel real - it still doesn’t.

Sometimes I think about the little things that linger: the messages I can’t delete, the book she left on my shelf in Monaco, the songs she used to hum when she thought no one was listening.

Sometimes, I dream about her.

In the dreams, she’s always laughing but always walking away from me.

I wake up reaching for something I’ll never hold again.

She’s gone. But she lives now, only in my memory.

So yes, dear diary.. I often go and sit by the marina in Monaco, the same spot where we first met.

The sunset dips below the horizon, and for a moment, I swear I can hear her laugh again.

[hjvi]

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑼𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅

Pairing: Bsf!Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: After burying your feelings for Chris for years, you're caught off guard when jealousy resurfaces, watching him with another girl. requested

Word Count: 2k

You’ve known Chris for as long as you can remember. His laugh is unmistakable—the kind that echoes, rich and deep, bouncing off walls and filling every corner of the room with warmth. He’s always been loud, full of life, and incredibly magnetic, effortlessly drawing people in with his charm. But for you, it was always more than that.

You knew him long before you started feeling this way—long before his tousled brown hair, with the hints of sun-kissed highlights, started looking a little too perfect in the way it fell over his forehead. Before his blue eyes started making your stomach twist in a way you could no longer ignore. Before you started noticing the little things, like the warmth of his hand when it brushed against yours, the way he’d throw his arm around your shoulders during movie nights with the group, the way he’d pause mid-sentence, just to smile at you like he couldn’t help himself.

For so long, you’d been his best friend—the quiet one, the one who had always been there for him, laughing at his jokes, listening to his stories, offering support. But recently, it started to feel different. You started noticing things—small things—that never bothered you before. His smile. How it lingered just a little longer when he looked at you, how his eyes would soften when you spoke about something that mattered to you. The way he would rest his hand on your shoulder casually when you were hanging out, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

But you couldn’t admit it—not even to yourself. Because how could you? He was Chris, your best friend. Your partner in crime, the one you could tell everything to, the one who made you laugh when you felt like crying. If you told him how you felt, you were terrified it would ruin everything. You couldn’t lose him, not like that. Not over something as silly as a crush.

Ever since Chris and I were kids, he had the biggest crush on me. His brothers would tease him relentlessly, making exaggerated kissing noises every time he so much as looked at me for too long. Everyone knew. It was an unspoken truth, something that just existed between us, a constant presence I never had to question.

It lasted for years. And I never thought much of it—Chris always asking me dumb questions just to talk to me, always finding excuses to sit beside me, always looking at me like I hung the stars in the sky. It was just Chris being Chris.

Until he stopped.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but one day I realized he didn’t ask me those corny things anymore. He didn’t try to sit closer. He didn’t stare at me like I was his entire world. And I should’ve been relieved, should’ve been grateful that the teasing from his brothers had finally died down.

But I wasn’t.

I missed his attention. I missed knowing I was the center of his focus..

I remember the first time we formally talked about our crushes. It was in middle school, sprawled out on his bedroom floor, tossing a stress ball back and forth.

"I kinda like Sophia," he had admitted, his voice casual, like he wasn’t saying something that made my stomach twist.

Sophia. The blonde that every guy liked. The one with the kind of effortless beauty that made people gravitate toward her. Of course, he liked her.

I had forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah? She’s cool."

Chris studied me for a second before tossing the ball again. "Who do you like?"

I froze. My heart stuttered, my mind scrambling for a name that wasn’t his.

Because for the first time, I realized—I liked Chris.

And it terrified me.

"I don’t know," I lied, shrugging. "Haven’t really thought about it."

He smirked. "Liar."

I laughed it off, quickly changing the subject, but the truth sat heavy in my chest.

The weight of unspoken words had never felt heavier than it did now. For as long as I could remember, Chris had been my person. My best friend. The one I could always count on to make me laugh when the world felt unbearable. The one whose presence alone made everything feel lighter. But somewhere along the way, things had shifted. My laughter lingered a little too long when he cracked a joke. My heart raced a little too fast when his hand brushed against mine. My eyes searched for him in every crowded room, drawn to him in a way I knew wasn’t just friendly.

I had fallen in love with him.

And I never told him.

I buried those feelings so deep inside me, convinced that if I ignored them long enough, they would disappear. Because why would someone like Chris ever look at me that way? He deserved someone beautiful, effortless—someone who didn’t trip over their own words when he smiled at them. And if I ever told him, it would ruin everything. So I stayed quiet. I convinced myself that being his best friend was enough.

But then, Leah came into the picture.

At first, it was just a passing thought. You knew about her, of course. She was friends with the group, always hanging out with them, just like you. But over the past couple of weeks, things had changed. You’d noticed the way Chris started talking about her more—how he’d smile a little brighter when her name came up, how he’d mention things they’d done together, and how his eyes would light up when he talked about her, in a way that he’d never looked at you.

It was a gradual shift, but one you couldn’t ignore.

It started small at first. The way he talked about her. A girl whose name I had never needed to remember before, but suddenly, it was everywhere. Her laugh, her texts lighting up his phone, the way his eyes sparkled when he mentioned her. And then I saw it—the way he looked at her, and it shattered me.

I had spent so long pretending that I was okay just being his friend, but now, I couldn’t pretend anymore. Every time he smiled at her, it felt like a knife to the heart. Every time I saw her name flash on his screen, I wanted to disappear. Because it wasn’t me. It would never be me. And the thought of that—of watching him fall in love with someone who wasn’t me—was unbearable.

So I started pulling away.

At first, Chris didn’t notice. He’d text me, and I’d reply hours later, blaming school or sleep. When he called, I let it ring until it stopped, my fingers hovering over the answer button, aching to hear his voice but knowing it would only hurt. I started making excuses, avoiding plans, choosing solitude over his company.

But Chris wasn’t stupid.

It was a Thursday when everything came to a head. The weather was unusually warm for an early spring evening, the sunlight streaming through the window in Chris’s room as you sat next to him, legs stretched out on the floor. Chris had his headphones on, scrolling through his phone while you were lost in thought. The space between you both felt wider than ever, like something had shifted and you couldn’t put it back.

He was talking, his voice full of energy, but you weren’t really listening. You were too focused on the way his laugh sounded when he mentioned Leah’s name—how much joy seemed to be wrapped in that one syllable.

“Yeah, Leah and I were talking about going to that concert next month,” Chris said, not even noticing the way your heart dropped at the mention of her.

You forced a smile, trying to keep the sadness from showing. “That sounds fun,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. You bit your lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over. It was becoming harder and harder to control them.

Chris pulled his headphones off and turned to you, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice softening. He reached out to touch your arm, and his touch made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your throat tight. You didn’t know how to explain it to him—not without feeling like a fool. How could you tell him that you were in love with him, that every moment with him was a reminder of what you could never have?

This was just the beginning of the interrogations

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” he asked one evening, barging into my room without warning, his blue eyes sharp with concern.

I sat frozen on my bed, my laptop open in front of me, though I hadn’t typed a single word in the past hour. My heart slammed against my ribs. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb, dude. You’ve been weird. Distant. You barely talk to me anymore.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Did I do something?”

Yes, I wanted to scream. You fell for someone else. And you didn’t even notice it was breaking me.

But instead, I shook my head. “I’m just busy, Chris.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back immediately, crossing his arms. “You’re avoiding me.”

I swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “I’m not.”

He sighed, stepping closer, his voice softer this time. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I clenched my fists, willing myself to keep it together, but it was useless. The pain, the jealousy, the heartbreak—it was all bubbling to the surface too fast for me to stop it.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please just drop it.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t. Because you’re hurting, and I don’t know why.” He hesitated, searching my face. “Is it something I did?”

The lump in my throat grew, and before I could stop myself, a single tear slipped down my cheek. “You didn’t do anything.”

Chris’s face fell, his expression crumbling as he reached for me instinctively. “Then why are you crying?”

He leaned in closer, his warm blue eyes locking with yours, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He froze, and you felt his hand gently tug at your chin, pulling your face back toward him. His eyes were wide with concern, his usual teasing expression replaced by one of deep, genuine worry.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and the vulnerability you’d been hiding for so long threatened to break free. You looked at him, his face so close to yours, his genuine concern written all over his features, and it hit you like a wave.

And just like that, the dam broke.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my entire body trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t kill me to see you with her. I can’t keep acting like I don’t care when you talk about her, when you smile at her, when you—” I broke off, covering my face with my hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

Chris stood frozen, his breath catching. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping at my tears. “I’m saying I love you, Chris. I have for a long time. And I never told you because I was terrified of ruining this—ruining us. But now, it doesn’t even matter, does it?” My voice cracked on the last words, my heart breaking all over again. “Because you’ve already found someone else.”

Chris’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing deeply. “Wait—what?” His voice cracked slightly, the shock evident on his face. He pulled you closer, his hands gently cradling your face. “You... you’re in love with me?”

The words felt like a breath of fresh air—like a confession you had kept locked away in the deepest part of your heart. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure what would happen next. Would he push you away? Would he laugh? Or would he... understand?

Silence.

My chest heaved, the room spinning around me. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe for him to let me down gently, to tell me he was flattered but his heart was elsewhere. Maybe even for him to walk away. But I didn’t expect what happened next.

Chris stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumbs brushed away my tears, his touch so unbearably gentle it made my breath hitch.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes, trying to suppress the tears. “I never wanted to say it. I didn’t want to ruin things between us.”

Chris was silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he stood up slowly. He walked over to you and gently took your phone from your hand, placing it on the coffee table. His touch was light, his hand brushing against your fingers in a way that sent warmth rushing through you.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you so you were eye-level. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings. It’s okay to feel what you feel.”

But you couldn’t stop the tears. They came in waves now, the floodgates opening. “I just thought… I thought I was fine,” you whispered through the sobs. “I thought I could handle it. But seeing you with her, seeing you get so close to her, it just—it hurts so much. I… I don’t know how to be around you anymore.”

Chris’s expression shifted from concern to something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place. He gently cupped your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His eyes were intense, a mix of confusion and something else—something you couldn’t decipher.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” he murmured, his voice rough. He gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his warmth enveloping you. “I’ve been trying to figure this out, too, you know.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain how I had felt so invisible, so forgotten. But his next words stopped me.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, I’m pretty sure it’s written all over my face,” he said, his voice raw, unguarded. “But I never said anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want to mess everything up. But the truth is... I can’t stand seeing you hurt. I can’t stand the idea of losing you. I need you, and I always have.” Chris’s hands gently ran up and down your back, the touch comforting yet charged with emotion.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering against my chest as his words sank in. I blinked rapidly, trying to process them, to keep my composure, but it was like everything inside me finally cracked open. All the years of pretending, of burying my feelings beneath layers of friendship and doubt, had been in vain. Chris—Chris felt the same way.

“You... love me?” I whispered, still not quite believing it, my voice trembling as I searched his face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. His gaze was steady, unwavering.

“I love you,” he said, more firmly this time. “Always have. Always will.”

The realization hit you then, like a weight lifting from your chest. He had been feeling the same way all along, hiding his feelings just as much as you had.

Without thinking, you pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes, and that was when everything seemed to come together. The pain, the confusion, the years of silence... it all fell away. The only thing that mattered now was the connection between you two.

“Chris... I’m scared,” you whispered, your hands shaking slightly as you cupped his face.

He smiled softly, that familiar, reassuring grin that made your heart race. “I know,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

My chest swelled with something I couldn’t quite name—relief, hope, joy—until it all broke free in a rush of emotion. Without thinking, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. My hands found his chest, pressing against the solid warmth of him, and before I could stop myself, I was kissing him—softly, tentatively at first, as though testing the waters after a lifetime of waiting.

The moment our lips met, everything else faded into the background. At first, it was slow—tentative. His lips were soft against mine, his breath warm and steady. I could feel the tension in his body, like he was testing the waters, unsure if this was real. And then, just like that, it deepened. Chris’s hand slid to my waist, pulling me in closer, until there was no space left between us. His touch was gentle but firm, like he needed me, like he was afraid to let go. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my heart flutter, each kiss a promise, each one a reassurance that this moment was more than just a fleeting desire.

I melted into him, my fingers finding their way to his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. His heart was racing beneath my touch, mirroring mine. The kiss grew more urgent, but there was still a sweetness to it, a softness that made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion, like we had all the time in the world. His lips were warm and sure, coaxing mine to respond, to give in, and I did, losing myself in the sensation of him, in the feeling of finally being close to the one person I had secretly longed for.

But eventually, I had to pull away, gasping for air. The intensity of the kiss left me breathless, my body trembling from the closeness of it. I couldn’t think, couldn’t process anything beyond the overwhelming feeling of his lips on mine, of the warmth of his touch.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my chest heaving as I looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, as if he were trying to hold onto the moment just a little longer. But when he opened them, he locked his gaze with mine, and in that moment, I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t expected—something so tender, so vulnerable.

He reached for me almost immediately, his hands gentle as he cupped my face, pulling me back toward him. His lips found mine again, but this time, it was softer—gentler. He kissed me with a tenderness that spoke volumes, as if he needed me as much as I needed him, and as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as I had. His touch was no longer desperate, but filled with a quiet longing, a reassurance that we were in this together, that we had both found something we couldn’t bear to let go of.

His breath mingled with mine, warm and slow, as his forehead rested gently against mine. His hands moved to my back, holding me close, as if he never wanted to let me go. I could feel the warmth of his chest against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my fingertips, and it was like everything in the world had finally fallen into place.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Chris whispered, his voice soft, almost a little shaky. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

I nodded, my heart swelling with emotions I couldn’t quite put into words. The love in his voice, the way he held me like I was fragile, like I was something precious—it was everything I’d ever wanted. He gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was memorizing the feel of me, like he never wanted to forget this moment.

“Don’t pull away,” he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes searched mine, the intensity in them soft but unwavering. “I need you here. With me. Always.”

I looked into his eyes, feeling the sincerity in his words, the depth of his feelings for me. His hands were still on my waist, holding me close but with a softness that made me feel safe, cherished.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered back, my voice a little shaky as I cupped his cheek, running my thumb across the stubble that had started to form there. “I’m right here.”

And with that, he kissed me again, slowly this time—more like a promise than a question. His lips were gentle against mine, like he was savoring the moment, making sure we were both fully present in it. There was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet certainty that we were exactly where we were meant to be. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me even closer, and I let myself get lost in him, in the feeling of finally being with the person I had loved for so long.

When we finally pulled away again, I could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips, and I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together. His hands gently cradled my face, and I could feel the tenderness in every touch, every look. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was showing me that he needed me, that he loved me, in a way that words couldn’t fully express.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry if this feels a bit rushed – it's because, well, it kind of is. This was a requested piece, and I apologize it's not a full-length fic, but I really hope you still enjoy it! Things have been pretty busy on my end, but I'm hoping to dive into future requests with more plot and depth. Thanks again for your patience and support!

tags - @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35 @courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @yourfavoritefangirl @slutformatt17 @watercolorskyy @mylifeisevenstranger @suyqa @junnniiieee07 @thecrawlys

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[isak-dot-gov]

Christmas Arguments

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader

Word count: 1082

Summary: After an argument on Christmas Eve, Nika and her wife wake up to a tense Christmas morning, skipping their usual gift-opening tradition.

My Masterlist :)

..........................................................

The argument had started over something small, as arguments often do. A joking suggestion to skip visiting your parents for Christmas dinner from Nika spiraled into a clash of stubbornness and miscommunication. By the time you both went to bed, the festive mood was replaced by silence and turned backs. It was the first time in years that you and Nika hadn’t said “I love you” before falling asleep.

Christmas morning was usually your favorite—a tradition of unwrapping gifts together, snuggling in pajamas, and enjoying the quiet intimacy of your little family before the whirlwind of visiting relatives. But this morning was different. The weight of last night lingered, an unspoken tension filling the air as you woke up and began your day.

Nika stirred beside you, her hand reaching out instinctively, but you had already slipped out of bed. Her touch might have softened you if you’d let it, but your pride held you back. Instead, you busied yourself getting ready, skipping the matching holiday PJs you’d picked out weeks ago and opting for something simple and practical. If she wanted to avoid fixing things, so would you.

As you applied a quick swipe of makeup in the bathroom, Nika appeared in the doorway. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and the usual twinkle in her eye was dim.

“Are we... not doing presents this morning?” she asked hesitantly.

You paused but didn’t turn around. “We’ll be late to my parents’ house if we stop to do all that.”

Her lips parted as though to say more, but she stopped herself. With a small nod, she left you alone, and a pang of guilt threatened to crack your resolve. But you pushed it aside, determined to hold onto your frustration.

The car ride to your parents’ house was painfully quiet. Normally, you’d be laughing and singing along to Christmas music, stealing glances at each other and sneaking kisses at stoplights. Today, Nika’s hands were tight on the wheel, and her jaw was set as she focused on the road. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window at the snow-dusted landscape.

When you arrived, the warmth of your family’s welcome felt like stepping into another world. Hugs were exchanged, compliments about the decorations were made, and the cheerful chaos of Christmas unfolded around you. You and Nika played your parts well, smiling and laughing when needed. But beneath the surface, the tension between you was a palpable undercurrent.

Nika stayed close to you, as she always did, her hand occasionally brushing against yours. But instead of making your heart flutter as it usually would, it only reminded you of the gap between you. Still, your family didn’t seem to notice. The two of you had always been good at keeping disagreements private.

The day dragged on, each stolen glance and awkward silence adding to the emotional weight. When it was finally time to leave, you both sighed in unison, though for different reasons. You were exhausted from pretending everything was fine; Nika seemed simply exhausted.

The drive home was darker, quieter. The festive lights along the streets seemed muted, the twinkling reds and greens mocking the mood in the car. Nika’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and her occasional sighs filled the silence. You stared out the window, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this fight had gone too far.

When you pulled into the garage, you reached for the door handle, ready to escape into the house and avoid another tense exchange. But before you could open the door, Nika’s voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

It was soft, almost broken, and it froze you in place. You turned slowly to find her still in her seat, her head bowed and shoulders trembling. Her hands gripped her knees, and when she looked up, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Please don’t go,” she said, her voice cracking.

Your breath hitched at the sight of her vulnerability. “Nika—”

“I can’t do this,” she interrupted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I feel like I’m losing you, and it’s killing me. You’ve been so distant all day, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can.” Her voice broke on the last word, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Your heart shattered. “What? Nika, no,” you said, reaching out to touch her arm. “You’re not losing me. Why would you think that?”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands covering her face. “Because I messed up last night, and instead of talking to me, you shut me out. You didn’t even look at me this morning. I thought maybe… maybe you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest. You hadn’t meant for your actions to hurt her this deeply. The anger you’d clung to felt trivial now, and all you could see was the woman you loved breaking down in front of you.

“Oh, Nika,” you whispered, moving closer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just hurt and being petty. I thought if I ignored you, you’d understand how upset I was. But I never—never—want you to think I don’t want to be with you. You’re my everything.”

She sniffled, looking up at you with tear-filled eyes. “I’m so sorry for last night. I hate fighting with you, especially at Christmas. I just… I love you so much, and I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears with your thumbs. “You’re never going to lose me, Nika. I love you too much for that. We’re going to fight sometimes, but we’ll always come back to each other. I promise.”

She nodded, her hands coming up to cover yours. “I promise, too.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, and the tension that had built up over the past 24 hours melted away. When you pulled back, her small smile warmed your heart.

The rest of the evening was spent curled up on the couch, finally opening your gifts to each other. The weight of the day lifted with each laugh and whispered “I love you,” and by the time you went to bed that night, you were both at peace, knowing that your love was strong enough to weather any storm—even Christmas arguments.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Christmas Shift | Bucky 🎄

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Prompt : We're doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event. 

Part 1 : Holly Jolly Charade

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It’s two days before Christmas, and you decided to go back home.

Your hand moved slowly to close the apartment door. It felt like you were forgetting something. Last year, he would always double-check the door before locking it.

This Christmas could be the last one, you thought, sighing.

You were headed to your parent's home for Christmas this time—mainly because your annoying aunt Teresa wouldn’t be there. On the ride, it was usually just you and Bucky, who started as a fake couple but ended up in a real marriage.

But it seemed like the honeymoon phase was over. You and Bucky had just had a big argument, which led him to stay at a hotel for a few days. That’s why you were here alone.

Your mom, Robin, greeted you with a hug. “Did the company lock you up?” she asked with a smile. “I’m glad you’re here before the storm.” She helped you take off your coat. “Bucky’s already here.”

You widened your eyes in surprise. He’s here?

“He’s got a much more relaxed schedule than you,” she added casually.

After Bucky resigned from the company, he invested in drone cameras and outdoor equipment. Since his hobby was photography, it seemed like the perfect fit. He made a good decision and gained a lot of profit. His work was successful, but his schedule was much more laid-back than yours.

As you walked into the living room, you saw Bucky talking to your dad and your cousins. He noticed you and made his way over to you, offering a side hug.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d rather be here than with my dad, who’s with his third wife, and my mom, who’s with her new boyfriend,” he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead.

You and Bucky were in the room, sitting on opposite sides of the bed. The distance between you both felt greater than it ever had before. The usual closeness you shared during Christmas wasn’t there. Both of you acted like everything was fine, but your parents noticed.

Robin, sensing the tension, quietly led you to the master bedroom. “What’s going on? It feels like there’s a wall between you two.”

You sighed, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. “It’s…,” you hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “We…” You usually had the confidence to speak up at the company, but talking about your relationship with Bucky made your stomach knot.

On the other side of the house, your father was talking to Bucky in the living room. “Did you make a mistake with my daughter?”

Bucky looked at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Son, I’ve been married for 35 years. I would know. So, you did something,” your father said firmly, though not unkindly.

Bucky sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “She wants a baby. I’m not ready.”

Your father’s brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

Bucky’s voice softened, and his eyes looked distant. “Because I’m afraid. I don’t think I’ll be a good father. Look at my parents. You saw them at the wedding.”

Your father nodded, understanding the depth of his concerns. “Well… it’s complicated. But you’re you, not your father.” He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder. “You're a good man for acknowledging your doubts. It's not a shame, son. Everyone feels nervous about being a parent.”

Meanwhile, in the master bedroom, Robin sat across from you, her hand resting gently on yours. “Listen, I know things aren’t easy right now, but you and Bucky can make it. There will be challenges ahead, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. You’ve built something real together, and that counts for a lot.”

You looked at her, searching for the reassurance you needed. Robin gave you a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve both come this far. You’ll find a way through this too. Just remember, love isn’t perfect—it’s about sticking together, even when it’s hard.”

Later that evening, you finally found the courage to talk to Bucky. He was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. You walked up to him, and without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I’m ready,” Bucky whispered into your hair, his voice low but steady. “I’m in it. If you’re in it.”

You held him tighter, your heart feeling lighter. “We’re doing a poor job hiding our relationship troubles at this family event.” You chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Yeah, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And the next Christmas, both of you came home—this time, with a beautiful, giggling baby girl in your arms. Bucky and you became the best parents this baby girl ever had.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@mostlymarvelgirl

@scott-loki-barnes

@kjah97

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

[bbokarimenu]

Proud Dad, Happy Heart

pairing: idoldadbangchan!x fem reader!

genre: fluff

warnings: none

an: last one for today ☺️

Masterlist

The studio was electric with anticipation. Stray Kids were scheduled to perform on Music Bank, and I was seated front row with our five-year-old daughter, Hana, perched on my lap. The cheers of the audience vibrated through the walls, the energy infectious as the lights dimmed and the crew prepared the stage for the performance.

Beside me, Hana clutched my hand, her blue eyes wide as she watched the team of stylists and crew members bustling around, getting everything ready for the boys. Chan, her dad, would be performing in just a few minutes. It would be the first time since Hana’s fifth birthday that she would watch him on stage. She had always been a proud little girl, but today, her excitement seemed to overflow with every beat of the music coming from the rehearsals behind the stage curtains.

“Are you ready to see Daddy, Hana?” I asked, brushing a stray lock of her hair back.

She nodded eagerly, her ponytail bouncing with her enthusiasm. “I’m so ready, Mum!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying through the low hum of the crowd.

As the crew finished setting up, I noticed Hana’s fingers nervously twisting around the edge of her dress. It was a cute, little floral number I had picked out for her, one that she insisted on wearing for the occasion. “He’s going to be amazing, Hana. Just like always.”

Hana nodded again, but I could see the worry in her eyes. “What if I mess up? I don’t want Daddy to get worried.”

I squeezed her hand gently. “You won’t mess up. Daddy is going to be so proud of you, just like we’re proud of him.”

The audience grew louder as the clock ticked closer to showtime. Hana’s eyes scanned the stage, looking for any sign of Chan. “Where is he, Mum?”

“He’s getting ready in his dressing room. He’ll be out soon,” I reassured her, glancing at the monitor where the boys were making final adjustments before heading on stage. I could spot Chan, fussing with his hair and adjusting his outfit. Even from a distance, I could see the familiar lines of concentration on his face, the way his shoulders slightly hunched with the weight of anticipation.

“Look, Mum!” Hana tugged at my sleeve, pointing toward the stage. “They’re coming out!”

I followed her gaze, and sure enough, Stray Kids lined up, ready to make their entrance. The cheers from the audience grew louder, a sea of light sticks waving in the darkened studio. The boys took their positions, and the music began to play.

As the beat started, I could see Chan step forward. His eyes scanned the audience, landing on us briefly before he focused back on the performance. His movements were smooth, confident, his voice hitting every note with precision. It was clear he had poured every bit of himself into this performance, and I couldn’t have been more proud.

Hana’s face lit up with excitement as she watched her dad. “Mum, is that Daddy?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

“Yep, that’s him,” I replied, brushing a tear from my cheek. “Isn’t he amazing?”

She nodded, her eyes wide and bright as she continued to watch him. “I want to dance just like him when I grow up.”

“Well, maybe not just like him,” I teased gently, squeezing her hand. “But it’s good to have big dreams.”

As Stray Kids launched into their first song, Hana was completely captivated. She watched intently, mimicking their dance moves and singing along under her breath. Each time Chan came forward, she would clap louder, shouting encouragement to him as if he could hear her through the crowd.

I laughed softly, marveling at the sight of my little girl cheering for her dad. The bond they shared was unmistakable, even from a distance. It was the kind of connection that defied logic, rooted deeply in love and shared experiences.

Mid-performance, as Chan took the microphone for his solo, he caught my eye briefly. There was a soft, reassuring smile on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of his presence in our lives. It was as if he were silently saying, I’m here, and I love you. My heart swelled with emotion.

As the music transitioned into the next track, the energy on stage shifted. The boys were in their element, their chemistry evident as they moved seamlessly from one song to the next. Chan’s confidence was unmistakable, his gaze occasionally straying toward us in the audience. I could see him mouthing the words I love you whenever the spotlight hit him.

“Is Daddy tired?” Hana asked softly, leaning into me. “He’s been singing a lot.”

“He’s not tired, sweetheart. He’s just really into the performance,” I assured her, stroking her hair. “And remember, he loves doing this. It’s his dream.”

Hana nodded, still watching intently. “He loves us too, right?”

I smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Of course, he does. More than anything.”

As the last song drew to a close, Stray Kids took their final bows, sweat glistening on their skin under the studio lights. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, and I could see Chan searching the audience until his eyes found ours. A small, appreciative wave went in our direction, and Hana’s face broke into a radiant smile, her hands waving furiously.

“Good job, Daddy!” she shouted over the noise, her voice full of pride.

Chan’s smile widened as he spotted us. He gestured toward Hana, making a heart with his hands, then blew her a kiss. The sight made my heart swell with pride and love.

The boys exited the stage, but Chan lingered for a moment longer. He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling with effort. Then, he made his way toward us, weaving through the crew and past security.

When he finally reached us, Hana launched herself into his arms. “Daddy!” she squealed, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck. “You were amazing!”

Chan chuckled, his eyes crinkling with joy. “Thank you, baby. Did you have fun watching me?”

Hana nodded, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “It was the best!”

I stepped forward, my heart full. “You were fantastic, Chan. As always.”

Chan gave me a grateful smile, his gaze softening. “Thank you, love. And thank you for bringing Hana here today. It means the world to me.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, stepping closer to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

As we started to make our way out of the studio, Chan reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “That was a good show,” he said, his voice warm with satisfaction. “But you know what’s the best part?”

“What’s that?” I asked, glancing up at him.

“Having you two here to share it with me,” Chan replied, his eyes flicking to Hana who was chattering animatedly about the performance. “It makes everything better. Seeing you both in the audience is what keeps me going.”

Hana skipped ahead, her little legs carrying her with ease. “I want to be on stage like Daddy one day,” she declared.

Chan looked down at her, his expression tender. “You can be whatever you want, baby. Just remember to dream big.”

I watched them, my heart full of love and gratitude. There was no denying the deep bond between them. As they walked ahead, talking about the show and life in general, I couldn’t help but feel blessed. Hana was growing up in a world where her dad was a star, but more importantly, she was growing up surrounded by love—love from a father who was always present, always proud, and always there to catch her when she fell.

As we exited the building and stepped into the quiet of the parking lot, I wrapped my arms around them both, pulling them close. “We’re so proud of you, Chan,” I whispered, feeling the weight of his sacrifices and the depth of his commitment to both family and career.

Chan smiled, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Thank you, love. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

And as we drove away from the studio, Hana’s voice rang out from the backseat. “Daddy, I’m so glad I got to see you today.”

I smiled, looking back at her in the rearview mirror. “We’re glad too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

[bybobbysbeard]

First Rise

Day 2 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: cooking together. read on ao3

God, what a long day.

It’s shifts like these that make Tommy feel every one of his 45 years. None of the calls were particularly brutal, but they were long. He should have been home hours ago. He definitely put in enough flight time to warrant every second of the 48 off he’s about to share with Evan. The nylon strap of his overnight duffle digs into his shoulder. His feet hurt. He’s got a headache. All he wants to do is crash on Evan’s couch, snuggle, and watch some trash TV. 

He opens the door to the loft and catches the tail end of a frantic sentence. Maddie’s face is tiny on Evan’s phone, propped up against a pile of cookbooks. Even from here, Tommy can see her cheeks are flushed, and she's gesturing wildly with a free hand. Evan has his hands up too, but he’s making soothing movements, trying to bring her energy down.

Tommy’s frazzled brain tunes back into the conversation. 

“It’s fine Maddie, we didn’t have plans to go out tonight, I promise. And you know I’d do anything for Jee. Oh! Tommy just got here. Let me get some food into him, and then I’ll get started right away. Will Chim be able to pick them up tomorrow morning? If I set it to run overnight, I can probably squeeze out an extra loaf. Maybe… four in total.” Evan waves a distracted hand at Tommy, already turning to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. A few sticks of butter, a block of bright orange cheddar, and a glass tupperware of last night's chicken stir-fry are gently placed on the counter. 

“Oh Buck, are you sure? I am so sorry for the late notice, I swear, pregnancy brain has me forgetting my own name.”

“I am one-hundred percent sure. In fact, I have a bag of flour that’s been hanging around that I should really finish off, so honestly, you’re doing me a favor.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I have to run, but I’ll make sure Chim knows. I’m sure he’ll text you in the morning.”

“Anytime Mads. Have fun tonight!” Buck waves, adorably, at the phone before Maddie pokes at something on her end and it goes back to Evan’s lockscreen. It’s a snapshot of him and Tommy, all smiles and sunglasses, bare shoulders in the summer sunshine. They had hiked for hours, up and down Mount Wilson. Tommy had gotten such a sunburn. It gives him a strange feeling in his gut when he looks at it; guilty, but heavy with relief. 

It’s from months ago. Before he ran. Before he got his head out of his ass and realized he was sabotaging the only chance at real happiness he would ever have. Before they came back together, had an honest conversation full of shouting and tears, and decided to try again. 

Tommy steps into the kitchen, brushing a kiss over Evan’s cheek and wrapping an arm around his waist in a quick hug. Evan leans into him, humming softly and releasing a blustery sigh.

“Let me drop my bag upstairs, and you can tell me what all that was about.” Tommy murmurs into a stubbly cheek. Evan nods.

He drags his tired body up the loft stairs, and leaves his duffle at the foot of the bed. A quick trip into the ensuite to wash his face and grab some aspirin has him feeling moderately more human.

When he makes it back downstairs, Evan is still getting ingredients out, but he’s moved onto the pantry. Bread flour, salt, sugar, and yeast are spread over the counter. In the next second he’s bent at the waist, digging under the counter and sending pots and pans clanging. He straightens up, biceps bulging in the sleeves of his t-shirt, before setting a chrome monstrosity of an appliance on the counter. Evan flips the lid, pulling out a squarish pan with a handle.

“I didn’t realize you had a breadmaker.”

“Yeah, I bought it a while ago.” His gaze stays focused on the appliance, but his shoulders are creeping up towards his ears. He’s defensive. Probably bought it when they were on their break. When they got back together, Tommy heard plenty from Howie and Hen about Evan’s baking escapades. He’s still weirdly embarrassed by it, but Tommy thinks it's sweet. His boyfriend missed him enough to nearly start a side business. Meanwhile, Tommy just wallowed. Evan is still talking. “It’s surprisingly useful, and super easy. I guess Jee’s daycare is having a bake sale, and Jee was telling her group about the cheese bread I made over the holidays, so Maddie said I would bake a few loaves for them to sell, but then forgot to tell me.”

“And the bake sale is tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Evan pops the p, plugging in the breadmaker. “And she promised Sue from Dispatch a visit with Jee tonight. So, Uncle Buck to the rescue. Alright, let’s see. It’s two o’clock. I could probably make two loaves in the machine before bed, including cooling time, and then it can do another overnight. And I could make one by hand too, I guess.” 

An electric thermometer joins a pyrex measuring cup next to the sink. “Is there anything I can do?”

Evan scoffs, “Tommy, come on. I can see how exhausted you are. Why don’t you sit down, I’ll heat up these leftovers for you, and then you can nap while I make bread. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t offer to help if I didn’t want to. At least let me help get the machine going. You said it yourself, it’s super easy.”

Evan stares, visibly weighing his fatigue against his honesty.

“Okay.” He slides a paper index card across the counter. “Make sure you layer everything according to this. It can change how the yeast activates.”

Evan’s chicken scratch is messy, but legible. The instructions are detailed, nearly overly so, but Tommy’s tired enough to appreciate it. He doesn’t want to have to do any improvising tonight. Evan’s got his mixer out, and is carefully measuring out warm water and yeast into the bowl. Tommy grabs the thermometer. A cup of water, warmed to eighty degrees, goes into the baking pan, followed by butter, chopped into cubes, and salt and sugar.  Evan hands him the cheese grater before he can ask for it. Tommy yawns his way through grating a cup full. They trade ingredients. Evan needs the sugar, and it's time to spread the flour in the baking pan.

Soon the kitchen smells like blooming yeast and melted butter. It’s domestic; takes him back to slow Sunday mornings with his mom. If Tommy wasn’t so tired, he would enjoy it more. They dance around each other, Tommy stumbling more than once when Evan moves unexpectedly and his slowed reflexes make him lag a half step behind. Nonetheless, they pass off tablespoons and cup measurers until Evan carefully tips his dough into a greased bowl and lays a tea towel over it. He sets a timer on his phone. Tommy taps out the last of the yeast grains into the little divot he made in the final layer of shredded cheese. He caps the jar, and yawns so widely his jaw cracks. Evan’s watching him and wincing.

“Okay, thank you for helping, but you are done.”

“Baby, I’m–” another jaw-cracking yawn, “--fine. I can keep going.”

“I know you can. But this pan is ready to go in the machine, my dough needs its first rise, and you need to eat.” 

A steaming plate of chicken stir-fry is set in front of him. Maybe he is more tired than he thought, he didn't even notice Evan putting it in the microwave. He makes his way through most of the meal while Evan tidies up and loads the breadmaker. He leaves the last few mouthfuls, totally distracted with watching his boyfriend. He’s so at home in the kitchen. At ease. He has everything he needs within reach, and he’s done all of the motions so many times, they seem like muscle memory. It’s a privilege to see him so comfortable. 

Soon, Tommy’s resting his chin on a palm and his eyes are closing without his permission. It's toasty in the kitchen, and the breadmaker makes a soothing rumble as it kneads. It lulls him into a doze. Eventually, a heavy palm lands on his back and makes him blink. Then there’s a muscled shoulder sliding under his arm and leveraging him to his feet. He leans heavily against the warm body keeping him upright.

Soft lips press against his temple and the arm around his back jostles him to wakefulness. “You want the couch or the bed for your nap?”

“Hmm. Couch. Wanna be close. And the bed's too far.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll wake you in a few hours.” A few uncoordinated steps before they find their rhythm, and then Tommy is being lowered. Well-worn leather meets his back. A fuzzy blanket is shaken out and smoothed over his legs and a calloused hand strokes over his hair. Tommy’s never felt this cared for in his life. Evan smells like flour, like fresh bread. Like a warm kitchen, and handmade food for a loved one. 

He smells like home.

[arosesstorm]

wreathe ; sebastian sallow

words count: long read

fem reader! x Sebastian Sallow

warning: jealous Sebastian

summary: Sebastian looks like her bestfriend under the sunlight, but as soon as the night comes the lines get blurry and everyone's obvious to it.

part one, I guess?

English is not my first language, trying my best, enjoy :)

Sebastian was known for being a charmer and a good learner; people whispered about his ability in dueling and his look was praised by many. 

He had a habit of breaking the rules and he was stubborn, as much as it was allowed. 

What most people didn’t know about him though was that the boy had in fact scares so deep, every once in a while they started to bleed. 

And god was Sebastian Sallow hot headed. 

"Ominis!" You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around the boy’s neck as soon as you saw him. 

"I missed you" you whispered into the boy’s chest, his arms slowly holding you closer. 

"Well well, isn’t this our very own savior" the boy muttered smiling. 

After everything that had happened the year prior, Ominis had been a constant in your life; exchanging letters almost every day over summer, the two of you had met up to hang out a few times too. 

He used to tell you about his family issues while you confessed yours. 

Your bond became so strong you felt he was the brother you never had. 

"Y/n!" You turned your head just in time to see Anne sprint your way and wrap her arms around your torso. 

"Anne" you smiled, embracing her, "it’s good to see you". 

She looked good, you couldn’t help but notice, her cheeks were pink, and she seemed to have gained a few pounds too; she was surely looking much better than the last time you had saw her. 

"I can’t tell you how excited I am to be back, even if I have a load of work to catch up to", a breath and then a whisper: "uncle Solomon won’t admit it but he’s happy he is finally alone". 

Anne left your side then to crush into Ominis. 

That’s when your eyes had met his. 

"No hugs for me?" The boy had asked, with that same playful tone you’ve grown to love. 

If possible, your smile grew bigger.

"Sebastian" you mumbled, letting the brunette cage you in a hug. 

Sebastian had always been your light in your time at Hogwarts: with all the fights, the heartbreak and the laughters he had somehow guided you through your first year in the magical world. 

Sticking by his side at first felt natural, like you two were somehow tied together; that was, until you grew attached and your new best friend felt more like a man to you. 

Everyone knew: you, Sebastian and Ominis were a solid trio, when you were looking for one you always found the other two nearby. 

But this year, with the newfound health of Anne since the death of Lockwood, your trio was about to become a quartet and you were somehow excited. 

"How have you been?" You whispered in Sebastian’s ear, his nose brushing against your hair as he muttered back: "Good, kinda missed you". 

"Come on guys! We’re gonna be late!" Anne was excitedly pushing you towards the great hall before you could protest. 

Back in your seats, with Sebastian’s shoulder brushing against yours, you realized how affected you actually were by his presence. 

This year was going to be a long one… 

The morning after, you woke up to an excited Anne walking around the room putting on her robes as she was chased by Imelda’s harsh insults. 

"Please shut up" the brunette pleaded as the Sallow girl kept on rumbling how exciting this whole journey was going to be. 

"It’s first day, can you guys believe it?" She squitted, disappearing into the Common room, leaving you two behind. 

"I swear if she doesn’t calm down".

When you saw the girl again you couldn’t help but notice her bright eyes as she was laughing with Ominis at the Breakfast table. 

"Goodmorning" you spoke, approaching your friends, sliding swiftly beside Sebastian. 

"Good morning to you" the boy spoke, gently brushing your shoulder once you were seated. 

"What were you guys talking about?" 

"Ah! They were vexing me" Sebastian spoke "it is fortunate you came to rescue me". 

"Oh Sallow, how many times will I have to save your ass?" 

Anne chuckled out loud as Sebastian let out a scoff "nevermind, you’re even worse than them" 

Before heading to your first lesson of the day, Charms, you passed by the Gryffindor table, hoping to see the friends you still haven’t had the opportunity to meet. 

"Natty!" 

The girl turned around with a smile, "y/n! How have you been? Did you receive my owl?" 

"I very much did, thank your granny for those cookies, they were amazing". 

"Which cookies? And why didn’t I get any?" Garreth’s voice rose from beside natty as you aknolowged the boy. 

His red hair were longer and his shoulders broader, it was hard to tell since he was seated, but you could definetly say he had grown up. 

"Shut up, Garreth" Natty had dismissed the boy as you left the table. 

Ominis was waiting for you at the entrance as you both left to class. 

That night, seated by the fire in your common room, you were reading a book while Anne was making small conversation with Imelda. 

You didn’t know how the conversation led to it, but Grreth’s name was brought up, Imelda noticing how much the ginger had grown over summer, pointing out he would have made a fine beater. 

"You were talking to him this morning, weren’t you y/n?" 

Your attention was suddenly brought back to the present. 

"Yes", "could there be something tender?" Imelda smirked as your nose left the pages to focus on the conversation. 

"Obviously not" you had replied, to which Anne softly smiled, "Imelda, quiet down, people are gonna hear us". 

"You’re no fun" she had replied, changing topic. 

That night, as you lied in bed, you kept on asking yourself if in fact you were somehow charmed by Weasley, or any boy for that matter and the answer came like a whisper, so soft you couldn’t hear it either. 

"Who do you think is gonna make team this year?" Anne had asked, walking with you, Omins and Sebastian to Hogsmade. 

"Why do you suddenly care about Quidditch?" Sebastian had asked. 

"I haven’t seen a game in ages!" She replied stern.

The bickering between twins bringing a smile to your face as you locked your arm with Ominis, "hey you".

While the twins bickering fell into the background, Ominis turned to you "what about this thing with Weasley?" 

"Ominis!" You scolded suddenly, taken aback by his comment, "how do you know?" 

Ominis scrolled his shoulders "so it is true? You fancy him?" 

"Who fancies whom?" Sebastian had token a step forward, suddenly intrigued by your discussion with Omins as you held the blond boy’s arm tighter, that was enough of an answer for him. 

"Oh nobody, just stupid chatters" the boy dismissed before Sebastian could investigate further. 

The thought of you fancying someone hunted the boy for the rest of the day, even when the night had quieted the chatter down and everyone went to sleep. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, so he left the warmth of his bedsheets, putting on a green and silver jumper and disappearing into the corridors. 

Making his way to the common room Sebastian was surprised to see someone else there. 

Their head was stuck in a book and their legs curled up onto the couch. 

He had recognized right away the silhouette and he felt like smiling. 

You had escaped your room that night, determined to finish the book you had been reading. 

It didn’t startle you when you felt a weight pop beside you on the couch, instead you couldn’t help but smile when Sebastian lowered the book from your hands, meeting your gaze. 

"Come back to me, will you?" He had whispered chuckling. 

"I was just about to find out where the main character had disappeared to" you answered, your smile betraying your fake annoyance. 

Sebastian chuckled again, his gaze shifting towards the fire. 

"Couldn’t sleep?" You asked then, your gaze worried. 

The boy hummed. 

This scene had happened so many times already: the boy sadly confessing the pain of his sister’s illness to you, in the dark of the common room, only allowing himself to be vulnerable in your presence. 

But this time, this time his sister was better, sleeping peacefully upstairs and you were there, with your eyes sleepy and your skin warm. 

So Sebastian found himself smiling as he looked your way. 

Your arm was resting on the back of the couch as it held your heavy head up, you were facing him, your breathing softly pleasant. 

"Do you really fancy someone?" The boy found himself ask, suddenly. 

You chuckled, looking at him playfully. 

"Why?" You had asked. 

"Just curious, you never told me you liked someone". 

"It’s not- it’s Imelda starting stupid rumors to see me flustered, that’s all" you reassure. 

He could finally relax, his back meeting the cushions as his fingers traveled to your leg. 

"You want to finish the book, don’t you?" 

"It’s fine" you laughed, but Sebastian didn’t buy it. 

"Come on, finish it, I’ll keep you company". 

It was hard to focus back on the story, with his hand tracing small circles above your bare leg, but it became quickly a gentle caress as you kept on reading. 

It was ten minutes later when you started to get sleepier. 

"Seb" you muttered closing the book, the boy humming while looking at you. 

"We should get some sleep". 

"Maybe we should" 

Neither of you making the move to leave. 

"I’m comfy" you admit laughing softly.

"Let’s not leave yet, then" he spoke. 

The fire was cracking in the background when you shifted, moving closer to the boy, your head now resting on his shoulder as you fell into the warmth of his body. 

Sebastian held his hand firmer on your leg now, helping you get closer, as he rested his head on top of yours. 

"Would you tell me?" He asked then. 

"Tell you what?" 

"If you fancied someone, would you tell me?" 

"Yes Sebastian, if I’ll ever find someone pleasant enough, I promise I will tell you first". 

Four weeks had passed since the start of term and with October approaching the air had got chillier and the days shorter. 

You had spent the last three hours in the library, making a research for a new species of mimbulus mimbletonia, something professor Sharp believed to be absolutely essential and you were ready to hide into the comfort of your room and fall asleep. 

"Y/n!" 

Your eyes travelled the room till they settled on the young man dressed in red and gold making his way towards you. 

"Hey, Garreth" 

"Hey" he smiled softly, "were you headed to your common room?" 

"Yes"

"Mind if I accompany you?"

"Hu? Ah no, you can come". 

You and the boy left the library, heading for the dungeons. 

"I was wondering if you had a spere hour tomorrow morning? If I can be honest with you I’m not keeping up well with Onai’s crap about tea leaves". 

You couldn’t help but slip a laugh.

"So now you’re laughing at me?" a playful smile plastered on his lips.

"No, no, I’m sorry."

You turned to your right, Garrett following behind as you started to walk down the stairs. 

"I have a free hour right after breakfast, sounds good?". 

Garreth’s smile widened "sound lovely to me". 

"What is it that you fail to get about the art of predicting catastrophes?" You teased as the boy stroke his neck. 

"I seem to prefer to see only the bright side" 

Letting out a stern chuckle you jumped the last step, the sliver snake appearing on the wall as you turned around to face the ginger. 

"First lesson: there are no bright sings in divination". 

You herd someone caugh as you turned around, Sebastian was lying by the door, his eyes locked onto you. 

"Goodnight, Garreth" you spoke as you made your way into the Slytherin common room. 

Garreth looking at you disappear before Sebastian followed inside and the door turned to be a wall again. 

"Escorted by Weasley, huh?" 

The sound of the water fountain running in your ears as you made your way downstairs with Sebastian. 

"It seems so" you had replied distracted, something that sent Sebastian’s soul on fire. 

As soon as you stepped into the common room, Imelda’s voice rose up. 

"So I was right? Weasley boy for the win?" 

You scoffed and Sebastian felt his body go still. 

Were you really going out with that loser? 

He didn’t know how much it bothered him, until the following day, at breakfast as he was talking about something funny that happened in his class you excused yourself, mumbling you had to meet up with someone. 

Of course, that someone was Weasley and of course, as impulsive as he was, he was tempted to follow you. 

"Sebastian" Ominis had called, sensing the shifting of his robes, "please don’t do it". 

Sebastian had scoffed then, returning to his place, violently eating was was left in his plate. 

He had time to calm down until he saw you again: your shoulders were moving up and down softly as you rested your head on a potion’s book, peacefully swimming into sleep. 

It felt like his anger disappeared for a second as he pulled a chair close to yours, his own head resting on the table as he looked at you. 

He stole a few glances at your harmless form, before squeezing your shoulder softly. 

He felt like choking when you softly smiled at him as soon as you your eyes opened. 

"Sebastian" you spoke, a voice so soft he thought he had never heard something more adorable in his life. 

"Why are you resting your head on the table?" You had asked then, to which Sebastian smiled. 

"I heard this is were we take naps" the boy teased as you shifted softly, a strand of hair falling into your eyes. 

Sebastian’s finger brushed it off softly, moving a strand behind your ear, discovering your face once again. 

That gesture might have woken you up suddenly because you jumped on your seat, quickly collecting your things.

"Oh god, I really fell asleep!" 

"Hey, hey, calm down there, will you?" 

But your panic only increased as you saw what time it was. 

"I was supposed to meet Garrett half an hour ago!" 

"Garret? Again?" 

"Yes, we didn’t get to finish this morning"

If he had known that waking you up would have resulted in you leaving him behind for Weasley, he would have much preferred watching you sleep. 

Sebastian got up at the same time as you, his anger coming back to him in waves, "does Weasley really need your help?". 

You looked taken aback "yes, he has told me himself he needs help in divination". 

Sebastian chuckled darkly, "and he asked you?" 

"Are you saying I’m not competent enough?" Your demeanour suddenly changed and Sebastian witnessed as your soft aura started to tint black. 

He knew this side of you, he had seen it one to many times and it didn’t scare him, in fact, it fascinated him. 

The fire in your eyes was matched now, as Sebastian grew taller. 

"I’m saying you wouldn’t be the first person that pops into my mind". 

You scoffed then, holding the books closer to your chest, pride filling your lungs. 

"How about you leave the adults to study and mind your business?"

"The adults?"

"Yes you child" 

You tried to turn away from him then, but the boy wouldn’t let you go far. 

"Hey! Don’t turn your back on me while I’m talking!"

"You’re not talking Sebastian, you’re behaving like a five years old"

"Said the one who can’t finish a conversation like two mannered people!"

Your eyes got bigger "are you saying I’m not well mannered either?" 

A sigh escaped your lips "listen Sallow-"

"Sallow?"

"That’s still your name isn’t it?" 

"Thought you preferred to call me something else". 

That unusual use of words didn’t go unheard from you, as you stared deep into the boy’s orbits. 

"Careful there, Sallow, you sound almost-"

"Almost what?" The brunette challenged you. 

You felt your blood boil as a voice raised from the students around"get a room!" Someone yelled out. 

"Shut it!" You both replied, parting ways, boiling inside, holding hands with pride. 

"She’s so stubborn!" Sebastian huffed.

"Mh what a news" Omins mumbled. 

"It’s just, do you even think she’s good in divination?" 

Ominis did seem startled by the question, but he answered nonetheless. 

"I mean, is there a thing y/n is not good at?" 

Sebastian couldn’t answer as he sighed flustered. 

"He’s a nightmare Anne!" Y/n complained pacing back and forward into their room. 

The twin of her best friend, who was at the moment an annoying prick, was resting on her bed, trying to take care of a strange purple plant. 

The Sallow girl hummed, listening to her friend rumble. 

"He practically attacked me! Saying I’m incompetent? After everything I did?" 

"You know he doesn’t think that about you" Anne scolded. 

"But he said it! The way he was looking at me Anne, I felt like jinxing him on the spot!"

The twin left a chuckle, "you know he’s protective of you y/n". 

Y/n fell into the bed, her hands tight knots as she sighed flustered, "the way that boy riles me up!"

© 2024 of Mia (arosesstorm). All Rights Reserved.

[klausysworld]

This request might be too much and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. So pls ignore if it does.

My idea is Klaus x human reader. Klaus and her become close and form a friendship. She’s dating someone for 4 years now and it starts to get abusive (mentally/physically or both). She finally confides and confesses to Klaus after he notices something is off. He basically helps her get out of it when one day said boyfriend follows her into the mikaleson house and tries to get reader out of there aggressively. The mikaelson’s hear the commotion and Klaus does something.

Flash forward to Klaus and reader in an established relationship, though reader is scared to be intimate as she’s still struggling from last relationship. One day Klaus and reader are getting into it and Klaus pulls her by her ankles to bring her towards him and it triggers her fight or flight (as Klaus doesn’t know last bf used to do that when hurting reader) and so instantly she hits him in self defence and then profusely apologizes. But Klaus is just understanding and holds her and tells her he loves her and if all he gets is holding her. Then he can live with that. The way it ends can be however you want.

Just been going through some things and needed to feel and I absolutely love your style of writing.

Again pls ignore if this makes you uncomfortable, that’s not my intent! Thank you!

(Triggering content, please don't read this if it might trigger you and know that both myself and so many people are there for you to talk to)

Her protector

Klaus had been concerned for a few weeks now.

Y/n was a sweet human, she was kind even to the Mikaelsons and had become close friends Rebekah after helping her choose a necklace for a party she was hosting. Rebekah proceeded to insist that Y/n come and that she would love to make some friends here in New Orleans.

If Rebekah was honest, she was surprised when Y/n actually showed up, with a vampire boyfriend no less. Either way she showed the girl around and they got talking, drinking and dancing. Y/n's boyfriend had seemed sweet, loving and on top of that he was friends with Marcel, one of his few day-walkers.

At that point everything was still okay. Mostly.

Until Klaus had come over and attempted to flirt with Y/n. Her soft cheeks had started to turn pink when a man, a vampire, slung his arm over her shoulders from behind her and gave Klaus a threatening glare. Rebekah let out a tipsy giggle and smacked Klaus's arm

"Leave her alone Nik, she's taken and my friend" she grinned but Klaus only stared back at the other guy. Y/n glanced between the two for a second and Bex rolled her eyes. "Come on Y/n, let them gaze at one another" she laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her away.

Klaus didn't like that anybody thought they could challenge him, he didn't care if the girl was married if he wanted to flirt with her then he would. There was no harm done but the man before him was acting as though he had slaughtered his family.

However Marcel had seen the two in a silent stare down and threw his arms over both of them "My two best guys" he grinned "Lets go get a drink"

And so somehow Klaus found himself some-what drunk and laughing with this man, it was only the next morning when after he woke did he realise the way the guy spoke about his lover was a little off. He talked like he owned her, like she was a toy.

Klaus brushed it off though, it's not like he hadn't done similar things. Besides it's not like her knew her.

Until he did. And she was so lovely that it confused him.

Often Rebekah would have her over, painting each others nails, one of those time Klaus had stumbled in covered in cuts and scrapes. Rebekah offered a tut and a shake of her head but Y/n was already at his side, her hand on his arm while she asked if he was okay.

"He's fine, it's his own fault anyway. Always starting fights" she mumbled while watching her new friend help her brother sit down. She asked Rebekah to go get him some blood which she reluctantly did, handing it to Y/n and watching in interest as she lifted it to his lips. Klaus's eyes watched her with interest as his lips wrapped around the top and he began to gulp down the red substance. She checked his wounds were healing as he drained the bag of every last drop.

She had offered to help him clean up but he shook his head and told her to enjoy her day with his sister.

After that she was always nice to him, making him a drink if she was already getting one, bringing him back to eat when her and Bex had been at a cafe or something. She would tell him his hair looked nice or that she liked certain colours on him. One way or another she always made him smile.

Y/n knew that Klaus was lonely, often sad or grumpy. She had seen it and been told it so she made an effort to brighten his days. Rebekah always said it was nice seeing her brother a little happier and she was glad that them being originals didn't put Y/n off.

Their friendship grew strong and so did Klaus and Y/n's. Until one day when Y/n's boyfriend had seen her fixing Klaus's hair, using her fingers to curl the top pieces. He didn't say anything to her then but once she came home accusations were thrown at her. She was called a cheater and a slut, desperate for attention and fucking stupid if she thought either of the Mikaelsons thought of her as anything more than a toy.

She slept on the couch, crying her eyes out and cancelling her plans with Rebekah for the next day.

She tried to spend less time with her but Bex only got upset and ended up at Y/n's house instead. Y/n thought that he wouldn't get mad if it was just Bekah and no Klaus. So she and Rebekah went to hers more often than not and the few times she went back to the abattoir she would try avoid Klaus.

She was always polite of course, smiled at him and said hello but she didn't get too close if she didn't feel that she had to. Nor did she say anything about how he looked, even when he wore her favourite henley and grew his curls a little longer.

The only times she gave him some extra attention was when he was physically injured. She couldn't help herself. She couldn't let him struggle alone and in pain. So she would be there with a warm, wet cloth wiping away any blood while she held him a blood-bag to his mouth.

"Have I upset you recently sweetheart?" he asked quietly as she cleaned the stains off his neck

"No?" she whispered and he lowered her head to look up at her and catch her eyes

"Then why won't you look at me?" he questioned and she shrugged, looking into his eyes

"I am" she stated and he hummed

"You haven't been very nice to me lately, love" he told her and she nibbled her lip nervously

"I didn't mean to upset you" she murmured but he just stared at her for a moment

"I haven't seen you around much" he muttered

"I've been at home more, Bekah comes to me instead" she mumbled, and he nodded, leaving the conversation at that.

But he didn't know that when she got home her boyfriend had her by the hair, telling her that he had seen her talking with Klaus. Seen her caressing his face and going into his room. She tried to explain that he was hurt and that she was helping him but he couldn't care less.

"Bet you were fucking helping him" he seethed "Bet he gets all pent up after starting wars. Needs to get his frustration out hm?" he laughed cruelly and she shook her head

"No, no- I would never! You know I would never-" she cried but he refused to believe her.

"You were always such a whore, can't go ten fucking minutes without begging for it" he growled, dragging her to their room. She was useless at fighting back, he was a vampire and significantly bigger than her. So when she was thrown onto the bed and grabbed tightly by the ankles, she couldn't kick at him without him snapping her legs.

She hid away after that night, telling Rebekah that she was sick and didn't want to see anyone for a few days.

But once a week had passed and her boyfriend was still angry at her no matter what she did, she knew she needed to get out and see someone or she would go mad.

Rebekah and her had gone to a coffee shop, Y/n wanted to be somewhere public and without the risk of Klaus or her boyfriend showing up.

Rebekah could tell something was wrong though, Y/n was never that quiet or skittish. She was walking a little funny and did't eat much at all. And at any mention of Klaus, Y/n shut down the conversation in seconds. It made Bex think that her brother had hurt her or scared her so when they both returned home, she began to accuse Klaus, questioning and demanding.

It only made both Mikaelsons to become worried. They didn't realise how their whispering about Y/n caught her so called lovers attention and made him go back to her furious.

He always seemed to be flooded with anger recently. He hadn't ever been so horrid for so long in the past. Accusing her of cheating was something that always had happened, his jealousy had always been an issue but never this bad. Maybe it was because he knew that Klaus wouldn’t back down if he wanted her. Maybe it was because of whatever drunken conversation the two had on the first night they met.

Either way there was no excuse.

All there was, was fear and pain. And she knew that she needed to get out. The only people who could save her from a psychotic vampire was an even worse one.

So she climbed out her own bathroom window and ran, caught a cab and then climbed in through one of the Mikaelson's windows. It was late, dark but it was the best time for her to escape. What wasn't helpful was the amount of night-walkers that were downstairs. Most of which, were close with her boyfriend so she was screwed.

However, whether it was luck or fate, Rebekah and Marcel came down the stairs, arguing which made the others scatter off. It gave her the opportunity she needed.

She darted up the stairs, as quietly as she could and to Klaus's room. Trying to open the door but it was locked making her knock quietly "Klaus?" she whispered desperately "Klaus please" she begged, her eyes leaking with tears. She banged her fist agains the wood of the door making her wince from how her wrists had been held just hours before.

A tired grunt sounded from the other side before the door was ripped open, a very annoyed hybrid on the other side though his demeanour dropped when he felt a body latch onto his, arms around his mid-section and face in his chest.

He looked down, his eyes fully open now. "Y/n?" he mumbled, his hand cupping the back of her head.

"Please help" she whispered and he gently scooped her up, flicking the lamp on and putting her in his bed. She was in. sweatpants and one of her boyfriends shirts so he assumed she must've been in bed before she came. He quickly grabbed some sleep pants to cover himself up as he was in only his boxers.

He then sat beside her, letting her pull herself closer to her with a soft cry leaving her lips. He held her close in his lap and shushed her gently "What's happened?" he asked gently but she shook her head.

It was only another minute before Rebekah was at the door, she had heard the crying and recognised it as Y/n. Her face dropped and she came rushing in. She got onto the bed as well and stroked her hair "Y/n..." she breathed, holding her hand. Klaus and her exchanged a look as they listened to her try and hiccup her tears away.

"Sweetheart it's alright" he whispered, rubbing her back under the shirt before he noticed her face scrunch in pain and he frowned. "She's hurt" he mumbled and Rebekah quickly sat up straight, lifting her top slightly despite her protests to see the bite marks in her flesh.

"Christ" Bekah gasped and Klaus's expression darkened. He lifted her up to straddle his lap sp he could have a better look at her but she began to cry out hysterically at the position and he quickly lay her back down, guilt and worry consuming him when she crawled to Rebekah instead. Bex wrapped her arms around her and whispered quietly for only Y/n to hear. "Who did this?" she uttered, her fingers gently running through her soft hair. "Was it..." she trailed, but the look on Y/n's face was enough.

"I didn't know where else to go- he knows so many people" she sobbed and Rebekah nodded

"He won't touch you now" She whispered, looking to Klaus who was halfway out the door to find Marcel. "Nik's gonna take care of it all okay?"

"What's he gonna do?"

"You don't need to know that honey" she murmured softly.

They waited for a little while, Y/n stayed in Rebekah's arms and started telling her everything that had happened. By the time she was finished they were both crying and wrapped up in Klaus's duvet

"The worst part is that...I do think that I have feelings for Klaus" she whispered "he was right-"

"It wouldn't matter if you were actually sleeping with another man, under no circumstances does he have the right to lay a hand on you. You're not any of those things he called you, you're an angel" Rebekah told her, stroking her hair gently. Bekah glanced up to see Klaus stood in the doorway, eyes soft as he made his way back over.

He had heard Y/n admit to her feelings but knew that now was not the time to tell her he reciprocated them, he knew she would need time. So instead he just came back to his bed and shifted in beside her so she was between him and Rebekah.

"He ran as soon as he saw me but I promise I'll find him and I'll kill him" he whispered, gently brushing his hand over her back. "It'll be okay, just close your eyes sweetheart, I'll protect you" he promised, sharing a look with Rebekah as they all laid down and he flicked the lamp off.

After that night, Y/n slept in Klaus's bed every night. He kept her close to him during the days too, pressed to his chest with his arm around her. She was much quieter after everything, he could sense her embarrassment but he didn’t understand it. It wasn't her fault this had happened to her. He tried to talk to her about it but she wouldn't look him in the eye and he was only making her uncomfortable so he tried not to bring it up. Instead things seemed to go back to somewhat normal, they complimented each other and had their usual conversations which were mostly about random things to keep their minds off any supernatural drama.

Klaus hadn't been going out much recently which meant she didn't have to clean him up but sometimes when they lay in bed to go sleep she would trace his face.

Everything appeared to be going well for a little while before Y/n's boyfriend showed up out of the blue. It was one of those unfortunate times that Klaus was out.

He sped behind Y/n while she was in the kitchen, slapping his hand over her mouth to silence her screaming as he lifted and dragged her toward the exit. Growling in her ear and called her a filthy whore, saying she would never escape him.

What he didn't know was that one of the other vampires saw him and were under direct orders to call Klaus if he was spotted.

Klaus came rushing in, his teeth straight in the man’s neck causing him to drop Y/n to the floor and cry out in agony as the werewolf venom too quick affect.

Klaus had Y/n in his arms within a second, vamp-speeding them to his their room. Her face was held against the crook of his neck, encouraging her to breath in his scent and calm her breathing.

“He’s gone” klaus whispers “He’ll be dead by tomorrow” he told her gently “And a werewolf bite is a slow and painful death for a vampire” he reminded. “He deserves to suffer” he muttered and she nodded slowly.

“I hate him” she uttered.

“I know you do sweetheart” he mumbled as he pressed soft kisses to the side of her head.

Everything was a little better after his body was found. She felt safe in the house without the risk of him grabbing her. She was able to sit with Klaus and Rebekah without the worry of someone watching her.

But it didn’t stop the night terrors. She would wake up screaming thinking that he had come back to life and had taken her, tortured her. Instead, however, she would find Klaus. Out of breath with a healing bruise on his face from where she hand fought back in her sleep. The apologies would start tumbling amongst her sobs but he would just pull her close and kiss her better. Promising it didn’t hurt and that he understood.

Often he would go into her mind, with her permission, and give her better things to think about. Give her peace.

That helped her a lot, between Klaus’s affection and Rebekah’s constant company, she began to feel happy.

She and Bekah went shopping a lot, went out for lunch again or just sat in Bex’s room talking and giggling. They both felt as though they had gained a sister of sorts. Rebekah was so glad to have Y/n and to be able to help her, she also really hoped that Y/n and Klaus would get married so that they were sister-in-laws.

Rebekah was their biggest supporter, always telling Y/n that Klaus wouldn’t ever hurt her and that he already loved her so she didn’t have to worry about the rejection. But Y/n was still nervous, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for another relationship.

But eventually, months down the line, kisses on the head became kisses on the lips. Their hugs became cuddle sessions and instead of eating in the same room they cooked together and ate together. Klaus planned extravagant dates while Y/n arranged much simpler but just as intimate ones. Klaus would beg Y/n to let him paint her and she begrudge dress up for him and pose.

The only issue in Y/n’s mind was that she didn’t feel comfortable enough when Klaus would touch her more sexually. As soon as the gentle touches became more frustrated, more needy, she couldn’t handle it.

But over time she got a little better, heavy make-out sessions became more and more common and part of her thought that maybe sex was on the table until something triggered her.

Klaus had his hands all over her, his tongue in her mouth as she moaned softly. Her hands were curled into his soft curls as she tugged gently. His hands slid up her top and her back arched slightly. Everything was going well, her legs were round his waist and soft little pleas left her lips for him to give her more.

He pulled away slowly, his nose just brushing hers as he sat up. He smiled down at her as she followed suit and sat up with him, her legs dropping down.

“You ready sweetheart?” He whispered and she nodded, his smile widened and he took ahold of her ankles. Just as he went to pull her closer, a panicked cry left her and her foot kicked him in the chest, hard.

His hands let go of her and he held his chest in confusion before looking up and seeing the fear in her face. His expression softened and he raised his hands in surrender “Y/n, love, it’s just me” he told her gently. “It’s okay” he whispered, cautiously he shifted closer.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears “I’m so sorry” she repeated, pulling her knees to her chest.

Gently he brought his hands out and picked her up, pulling her onto his lap “it’s okay, it was my fault” he mumbled, kissing her lips gently

“It’s not your fault- it’s mine, I’m broken” she cried but she shook her head.

“It’s his fault” he whispered and she let out a soft sob. “He hurt you, but you’ve never been broken. You’re just still hurting”

She sniffled and nuzzled close “I just…I wish could-“

“I know…I know but we can wait. We can wait for as long as you need” he murmured softly.

“But…what if I can’t…like ever?” She whispers but still he smiled

“Then I’ll just hold you and kiss you and take you to dinner like usual. I believe I owe you a bouquet of flowers, no?” He hummed and she wiped her eyes with a sniff

“You do?”

“I do, come on, we’ll go pick a bunch” he held her close and lifted her as he stood, carrying her down the stairs listening to her little laugh as she pressed her face to his chest. She knew not many men would be as loving and understanding as he was, she knew Klaus wouldn’t hurt her nor would he ever leave her.

[wlntrsldler]

how to disappear | luke castellan

warnings: betrayal, fluff, mean!luke for like five lines, extremely long, not canon, drug use and language, probably got some things wrong but it's for the plot; i sobbed writing this. (this might be my favorite piece i've ever written)

part 2: shades of cool

pairing: aphrodite!reader x luke

description: based on how to disappear by lana del rey

i. all of the guys tell me lies, but you don't. just crack another beer and pretend that you're still here.

"hey, angel," a voice startled you out of your thoughts. your feet were dangling over the pier as you stared out into the lake. you twisted your head to see luke approaching. a soft smile was on his face. "been looking for you everywhere."

"needed a breather," you said, scooting over so he could join you. "sometimes i forget how overwhelming being back here is."

he rolled his cargo pants up to his knees, letting the cool water touch his bare skin. "i get it. sometimes i wish i could take a break."

"you can, you know," you nudged his shoulder, "you're old enough to leave camp during the year. nobody would fault you for wanting to go away for a while."

he dug into his front pocket, pulling out a messily rolled joint and the pink lighter you gave him last summer. the heart you drew on the plastic with sharpie was starting to fade. he placed the joint between your eager lips and lit the end. he tried to ignore the sparks that shot up his arm when your fingertips brushed against his.

luke shrugged, "i know, but then who would take care of the kids? mr. d isn't really the model citizen."

you quirked an eyebrow, passing him the joint, "and you are?"

"better than mr. d," he let out a chuckle before taking a drag. luke closed his eyes as the smoke escaped his lips. he could taste your lipgloss. "maybe when you get your own place, i'll take some time off and visit you."

"i'm off to college soon," you said. "going to california. i got a scholarship."

"of course you did," he grinned. the weed didn't take effect yet. usually, when you smoked with luke, his brown eyes are hazed over by the effects, but while he was speaking, his eyes twinkled in pride. "didn't doubt it for a second."

"you'd leave camp and visit california for me?"

luke had a knowing smile on his face now, as if you were ridiculous for even asking that question. "'course. only problem would be that i'm broke as shit right now. being camp counselor doesn't really pay the big bucks, y'know."

you hummed. it was weird really, how camp was just a fraction of your life. your dad made sure that you could have a semi-normal life, or at least as normal as a half-blood's life could be, but not all demi-gods had the luxury, luke included. his dad made sure of it.

at first, luke despised you for it. why was it fair that you were your mom's favorite child while his dad barely cared enough to make sure he survived his failed quest? if aphrodite was his godly parent, he was sure that he wouldn't have this ugly scar on his face to remind him that he was nothing but a failure. she would stitch him up and make sure that he was okay.

this is not to say that luke liked any of the gods; he just preferred aphrodite above all of them. she gave you to the world, after all.

"what else is new?" he prodded, passing you the joint again after his third drag. "anything else exciting happen in your life since last summer?"

"nothing much," you coughed slightly. you didn't smoke unless you were at camp with luke. "just the usual senior year things, i guess. graduation, prom, you know."

"no, i don't know, actually," he laughed, "well, i know the idea of it. did you decorate your graduation cap? did your senior year live up to your expectations? did you have a date to prom?"

"yes, yes, and no." you pretended not to notice how luke's shoulders relaxed at your answer. "i did decorate my grad cap. my dad has it framed with my diploma. the design was my college's logo. i didn't have a date to prom because i didn't really like anyone at school. i would rather take a date i actually enjoyed the company of."

"that's fair," luke said. he took another hit from the joint. you watched the smoke evaporate into the air, the smell of weed surely sticking to your clothes. "tell me about your senior year."

"it was fun," you said, longing on your face. "it's weird to think that i'm kind of on my own now. after camp, i'll be shipped off across the country to take classes for some bullshit degree that i probably won't need because i won't make it long enough to see the workforce."

luke chuckled at that. it was morbid, sure, but he would be lying if he said that that reality wouldn't be a possibility. he didn't like to think about it much, the idea of you dying, but the life of a demi-god was unpredictable. he's surprised he even made it to eighteen.

you continued, "but i got to be a kid and i'm thankful for that. i just can't stop thinking about how this is my last summer here. i'm eighteen now. i've aged out."

"you can come back, you know," luke said. these summers with you were the only thing he looked forward to each year ever since you first arrived. "i'm still here."

"that's because if you step a toe out of this camp, they'll find you," you said, although you knew luke knew this already. he was powerful. he would attract monsters left and right and he'd be putting himself in jeopardy if he left. your suggestions for him to visit you were more wishful thinking than anything. in those moments, you let yourself pretend that you and luke were normal, that nobody would be trying to kill you if you tried to watch a movie at a theater or something.

"fair," he offered you the last hit, but you shook your head. you already felt your head spinning. "beth wants to go to college, too."

"does she?"

"yeah," he put out the joint on the wooden pier. neither of you spoke as the flame was extinguished with a sizzling sound. "told her to talk to you. you know more about it than i do."

"i'd love to talk to her. i think she'd do great in college."

"she would," he smiled, sadly. his eyebrows furrowed in thought. his mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to find the right way to frame his words. you sat in silence patiently. he gulped, "i feel like everyone is moving on without me."

luke propped his elbows on his knees. he looked across the lake, watching the sunset turn into a pink horizon. he couldn't look at you while he spoke. "don't get me wrong, i'm so proud of you for leaving this place. and i'll be proud of annabeth when her time comes, but i think i just hate the fact that at the end of it all, i'll be alone. everyone in my life has a life outside of this, but i don't. this is it for me. i don't know what it is about this place, about this life, that keeps me stuck here, but i am."

you weren't stupid enough to correct him. you both knew the gods had a plan for luke. it was something bigger than the both of you, though neither of you truly knew what it was; but it was always this looming dark cloud above him, a second shoe waiting to drop. luke tried to ignore the feeling most days, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel himself get pulled into the darkness; like in these moments, when reality hits him a little harder. you probably won't be back after this summer.

"well," you placed a hand over his own. he flipped his hand over to hold yours properly. he still wasn't looking at you. "let's just make the most out of this summer, yeah? think about everything else when we get there."

he squeezed your hand, "yeah."

ii. met me down at the training yard, cuts on his face cause he fought too hard.

"castellan."

luke winced, not because of the pain of the open cuts on his face, but because of the tone of your voice. that voice meant that he was in trouble.

he mustered up the courage to smile weakly at you, trying to ignore the droplets of blood that spilled from his open wound. "hey, angel."

"don't angel me," you hissed, marching to him. you grabbed his face gently, inspecting the damage. "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking the kid was a bitch."

"castellan."

he cringed, "sorry."

"what happened?"

"i haven't been getting much sleep," luke whispered, "nightmares are back."

you sighed, picking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. the apollo kid who was tending to luke earlier was smart enough to leave the room when you walked in. you muttered half-hearted apologies as he hissed in pain. "i'm sorry to hear that, but that's not the answer i was looking for."

"he was just talking shit," luke said through gritted teeth. whatever the ares kid was saying must've been really bad because you could feel luke's anger rising again. you rubbed his back slowly until he calmed down. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay," you resigned, finally wiping away the final remnants of blood off his face. you stared at him; even with an open lip, red bruises, and flecks of blood on his face, luke was still beautiful. he plopped his forehead against your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer.

this was common with luke. he acted all big and bad around all the other campers, but in your presence, he turned into this; always looking for comfort, always touching you somehow, like he was finally allowed to breathe. you cradled the back of his neck as he let out shallow breaths, leaving feather-light kisses on his crown when you thought he wouldn't notice them. he always felt them, but he never let you know that he did. he was afraid you'd stop doing it if you found out.

"how bad are they?"

"bad," he sighed, eyes closing. he tugged on you to bring you even closer, though you didn't know how that was possible at this point. "haven't slept in days."

"why didn't you come find me?"

"your sisters don't like it when i interrupt their beauty sleep."

"why didn't you tell me sooner? i could've stayed in the hermes cabin."

"it's gross in there," he laughed. "you deserve to sleep on your soft bed in a cabin that smells like fucking roses, not on my cardboard thin cot in a room that smells like sweaty socks."

you lifted his head up to look at you, "yeah, it's pretty bad in there."

luke snorted, finally letting you go, but a hand stayed connected to your hip. he played with the loose thread on the hem of your shirt. "i still won, by the way."

you cocked your head, "huh?"

"the fight," luke's cocky smirk was back on his face. "you should see the other kid. if i'd been well-rested, he wouldn't have been able to land a blow."

you smacked his shoulder, laughing as you fell onto the bed beside him, "shut up, castellan."

"there it is," he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he was so close to you.

"what?"

"castellan," he mimicked your voice, but there was no mockery there. he said it like he treasured it, like he was trying to memorize the way you spoke. "you're not mad at me anymore."

it was hard to stay mad at luke. the longest you'd gotten mad at him was when he didn't choose you for his quest. he stood outside the aphrodite cabin the entire day before he was set to leave, begging for you to let him explain. you were too stubborn, too hard-headed, to listen to him. when you were sure that he was gone, you finally left the aphrodite cabin to find a letter from him tucked away under the welcome mat.

you kept the letter, but you never opened it. it wasn't until he returned from his quest, on the brink of death, that you opened it. you were sitting beside his bed, eyebags darker than ever that even your mother couldn't salvage you. your eyes were stained red from crying so much.

in his letter, he explained how he didn't want to put you in danger, how he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him. your insecurities just got the better of you. you always feared that people saw you as shallow, like you didn't actually have the skills to fend for yourself. many people had misconceptions about the aphrodite kids, but not luke. luke knew that you were incredible. you just didn't resort to violence as quickly as he did.

you felt stupid then, even now, you regret how you treated him before his quest. you hated yourself for how you acted. he never gave you a reason to doubt him, to not trust him; you should've known that he had his reasons. you hated yourself for even questioning him for a second.

luke pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle into his neck. the beads of his camp necklace rested beside your temple. you reached over to play with them, letting the beads thump against his collarbone when you let go. you felt luke twirling strands of your hair around his finger, gently undoing the knots that formed at the ends of your hair because of his antics. you lay there in silence, just enjoying the presence of one another. you felt luke's breathing even out, a sign that he was drifting off.

luke's words from the pier bounced in your head then. did he think that you'd forget about him after you left camp? as if you'd forget about this, about him. a life without luke castellan became unimaginable when you met him when you were fifteen. there was no version of your life that didn't have luke in it.

it was foolish to think that way, you knew that. it was stupid to let someone have a hold on you like this, demi-god or not. even your friends from home warned you about being so attached to luke, though in the version of events you told them, the stakes were much lower. to them, he was just a boy you see at summer camp a few months out of the year; he was just another hometown boy that they urged you to forget when you moved away to college so you could live your life unrestricted.

but luke wasn't just that to you and you knew you weren't just that to him either. there was something between the two of you that was hard to explain, but didn't need an explanation at the same time. even your mom noticed it. she let you know once to tell luke to stop praying to her to give you a sign whenever he missed you.

"i can't keep making flowers bloom whenever he misses you," she wrote, "it wouldn't make much sense for flowers to bloom in the winter, my child, or for flowers to bloom every second of the day."

sometimes, though, on particularly hard days when you'd miss luke, your mom made exceptions. you'd find bunches of hibiscus growing within the cracks of the sidewalk of new york city on your way home from school.

you knew luke was thinking about you then. just the thought of it made your day better.

iii. i know he's in over his head, but i love that man, like nobody can. he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again.

luke didn't know what you'd say if you found out. well, he did know, but he deluded himself into thinking that you'd listen to his reasons, that you'd actually understand why he did what he had to do. maybe you'd even join him.

percy had left camp with annabeth and grover for his quest yesterday. the air at camp felt different since percy was revealed to be a forbidden child. luke, as much as he tried to keep his resentment for the gods at bay because percy was hard to dislike, the poor kid just wanted to save his mom, felt his blood boil when poseidon claimed percy.

he hated the gods, this wasn't new, but luke struggled to understand how he was supposed to feel. he saw so much of himself in percy. he thought of his mother; her hugs that he hadn't felt since he was nine, the taste of her burnt cookies that he hated at the time, but now he just wished he could taste the burnt crisps on his tongue one last time. he even missed her frantic mumbling in the middle of the night.

luke saw a version of himself in percy, the version that had a chance at happiness. luke hated it.

it was too late, anyway. the plan was already in motion. his allegiance to kronos was set. kronos visited him in his dreams often. luke stopped calling them nightmares because nightmares are only nightmares if they happen once in a while. what made them bad dreams was when they were compared to good ones. he didn't have those anymore.

luke hadn't slept much since he stole the bolt. it was easier to think about you, about the happy times, when he was awake. he smoked more now. it helped sometimes. he would pretend your lipgloss was still on the tip of the joint and that you were beside him on the pier, trying to get away from all the noise of camp.

as he walked toward the hermes cabin, smiling cordially at the younger campers who beamed at him, he saw the corner of a pink bag against his bed. his face dropped. luke stopped in his tracks, clutching the beads of his necklace.

you weren't facing the door. your back was turned while you folded the sheets on his bed. he saw you spray perfume on his blankets. he could almost smell the sweet fragrance from where he stood. it took all his might not to run to you and hold you in his arms. it's been months since he last saw you, since last summer. luke's hands fell to his sides before he twisted his body to turn the other way.

he went to the one place that gave him comfort. with his cargo pants rolled up to his knees, he watched the sun fade into the dark sky. there was no pretty sunset tonight. luke didn't think too much of omens, but he figured that was a bad sign. and when your soft footsteps thumped against the boards of the pier, he was certain that it was.

"you damn near running away from me when you saw me was not the reaction i was hoping for."

luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. out of habit, he moved a bit to let you take your usual spot beside him. when he opened his eyes, he was met with the face he'd thought about for months. a kind smile adorned your lips. you looked different. your skin was a deeper shade, no doubt due to the california sun; your lips were pink and torn apart, like you'd been chewing on them; but your smile was the same.

"what are you doing here?"

"sorry i was late," you said, sheepishly. you played with the small braid in your hair, "i had to move out of my dorm so i had to take a later flight."

"i thought you weren't coming back," luke replied.

"heard there's a war coming," your voice sounded small. luke knew why. he'd listened to you talk about the dreams you had for yourself for hours over the past summers. the idea of an impending war meant that those dreams would take the backseat and you'd have to fight before any of them could come true. "is it true?"

"percy, a forbidden kid, poseidon's, is trying to make sure it doesn't happen."

"do you trust him?"

luke felt his heart crumble in his chest. how cruel is he to keep you in the dark like this? when the only thing you needed to feel okay was to hear that he trusted the kid meant to stop the war?

luke's voice was hoarse, "yeah, i do. beth does too."

"okay," you placed a hand on his thigh. luke stiffened at your touch. you pulled away, embarrassed. "sorry."

"don't apologize," he placed his hand next to yours. he could feel the warmth of your skin. "i've just been on edge."

"it's just me, luke."

he didn't know how to tell you that that's exactly why he was on edge. it was you. the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. the girl he told everything to. the girl who knew him so well that if you were to touch him for longer than a second, you'd know everything.

this summer, for the first time since he met you, he was glad you didn't show up to camp. he knew that the minute you were in front of him, he'd tell you everything and there was a chance you'd want nothing to do with him after it. that was something luke couldn't handle. but now you're here, looking at him like this like his actions just hurt you.

"'m sorry, angel."

"you're acting different, luke."

"'m sorry."

"i don't need an apology," you said. "i want to know why."

luke rubbed his face with his hands, "i don't know, okay?"

"you're lying to me," you were frowning now. luke was angry. he wasn't angry at you, he was angry at the whole situation, but it didn't matter. he was taking it out on you.

"gods, angel, can you just-- not right now," he groaned. you got a good look at him. his eyes were tired, shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders with no reprieve. "i don't really feel like talking."

"you don't have to be mean about it."

he didn't feel like himself anymore. he would never talk to you like this, but there was something in him that made him snap. luke scoffed, "i'm not being mean, you're just being so pushy right now."

you blinked, pulling your hand away from his. shivers ran down your spine, "luke, what the fuck?"

"what?" he stood up. you followed suit. under the moonlight, you saw how dull his brown eyes were. they no longer carried the same glow when he looked at you. luke's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, "i just can't handle this right now, okay? can you just drop it?"

"i'm just trying to talk to you!" you raised your voice, disbelief on your features. you walked towards him. holding his face in your hands. he was crying. you wiped away his tears. "i just missed you, okay? i just wanna talk to you because i haven't gotten to in months and i'm miserable."

he let out a shaky breath, your touch grounding him. he felt himself coming back to him. he nuzzled his cheek in your palm, kissing the flesh there as he mumbled apologies into the night.

"i missed you so much," a sob escaped your lips. luke didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, continuing his train of apologies into your ear. you continued, "i-i thought that you'd be happy to see me because i've been counting down the days until i saw you again and i just thought that even though the world was falling apart, we'd be the same. it's always been us, you know?"

"i know."

"and then you avoid me and run away from me and i just needed to see you, luke. i needed to talk to you."

"i missed you, too," he confessed. "so much, you have no idea."

"you have a funny way of showing it," you joked through your tears.

luke laughed. it shocked him. it was like he had forgotten how to. he hiccuped, removing one hand from around you to rub the tears away from his eyes, "come on."

selfishly, he ignored the pit in his stomach. he allowed himself just one more day to have you like this. as he lay on his bed, he held you close to him. he was overwhelmed with how much you filled his senses; the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your lips ghosting on his chest as you told him nonsense stories from college, the sound of your quiet giggles when he made some stupid joke, the look on your face in the dark, staring at him.

an unfamiliar feeling took over his body, rest, he realized it was, a while into lying in the darkness with you.

"i love you, you know that, right?"

luke didn't trust his voice anymore. he pulled you closer, hoping that that was enough for now.

iv. think about those years as i whisper in your ear. i'm always going to be right here.

"i love you."

you turned your head at the sound of luke's voice. camp was in disarray. percy was badly hurt and annabeth was frantic, sobbing about how luke was behind it all. you ran away after hearing it.

you didn't want to believe it, but it was annabeth. she wouldn't say that about luke unless it was true. you knew it killed her just the same to accept it.

"what are you doing here, castellan?"

it felt like a dagger was plunged into luke's heart. he'd heard his name leave your lips in different ways over the years; jokingly, angrily, but never like this. disappointment.

"i couldn't leave without telling you," luke licked his lips, keeping his distance. he was pressing his shirt on the spot percy broke skin. he looked down at his feet, "couldn't leave without letting you know that i love you."

"why did you do it?"

"i don't know."

"okay," you walked towards him. "when did you get so comfortable with lying to me?"

"angel," he sounded broken. "please, don't do this."

"you were wrong, by the way," you said. "you're not stuck here anymore, but i don't think the place you'll end up in is any better than this."

luke was silent.

"go, luke," you whispered. "don't make it any worse than it already is."

he nodded. this was it. you watched as he disappeared into the dark.

you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice it then; your mind was plagued with worry, but in the gaps of the wooden pier, a single hibiscus flower bloomed under your feet.