#and then i just. didn't even have anyone around me to celebrate with

[chaosartic]

Throw away the caution! | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warnings: overprotective brother Max Fewtrell, mutual pinning (a bit), Oscar is confused most of the time, bad writing (yes it requires a warning)

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I’m turning this into a mini series. They’re probably going to be three parts. Please note that english is not my first language, I’m sorry for any mistakes in advance.

Lando and Max have been through a lot together as long as both of them can remember. And for just as long Lando has known y/n, Max slightly younger sister. What started as a harmless friendship slowly turned into something more, at least in Landos eyes.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he admitted his feelings to himself. He kept them hidden and a secret from everyone. At first he thought that they’re just temporary. The girl he used to climb trees with and joke around for hours grew into a beautiful young lady after all. But the feelings only grew stronger.

Lando was well into his twenties when he talked to someone about his crush, it was no other than his friend and ex teammate, Carlos Sainz. At first he tried to talk Lando into admitting his feelings to you but that was without success. Carlos tried to figure out if the feelings are both sided but he simply didn’t see the Fewtrell siblings enough for that.

He was the silent emotional support through everything after that, trying to get them together alone as much as possible without Max noticing. After all, Carlos didn't know how he would react to the news of his childhood friend loving his younger sister. There were a few close calls in the past but as far as anyone was concerned neither Max nor y/n knew about Landos feelings.

If anyone would ask him why he doesn’t confess his answer would probably be along the lines of wanting to concentrate on his career first. In truth he was scared of your rejection and your brother's disappointment. He and Max are friends after all and it might feel like some sort of betrayal to the older Brit.

Lando was currently in London since he had to be back at the MTC for his pre-season training and meetings. He loved being in his home country even if that meant that winter break was over. It means that he gets to spend time with his friends. Like this evening for example.

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You hate being late. It wasn't even your fault that a meeting with your boss ran over the scheduled time or that traffic today was worse than the past few days. You were meeting up with your brother, childhood friend and his teammate. And while Max assured you that your late arrival wouldn’t be a problem, anxiety and guilt still washed over you. You navigate your car without a problem down the familiar street to your brother's appartement. The night was cold but with a clear sky, a rare occurrence.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything when you come around.” Max greets you at the door as soon as he sees the flowers clutched in your hand. “Yeah yeah” you wave him off. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for the normal chaos that erupts when Lando and Max are together.

Max notices your confusion. “They got caught up with work stuff too. That’s why I told you not to worry.” He grabs the flowers ready to put them into an improvised vase while adding, “they should be here any minute though.”

“You could’ve added that little detail in your sentence,” you sternly joke with him. He pulls you into his arms mumbling something about next time he will. You missed this, the familiar feeling of being in your brother's arms. Work has been hell for you recently and you didn't get to spend much time with your family or friends. That’s why you didn't think twice about coming around tonight to spend a relaxing evening with your brother and an old friend of yours, Lando.

Before you could do anything else the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the McLaren drivers. “I’ve got it,” you said to Max before walking towards the door. When you opened it, you were a bit surprised when you saw only Oscar standing there. “Hey Oscar. Where is Lando?” you ask him after you let him into the flat. “Oh, he’s still parking the car or something,” Oscar said, “he’ll be here shortly.” You nodded your head at his explanation, softly closing the door behind him. You didn’t lock it though so Lando could get in easier.

Max came out of the kitchen to greet Oscar. While the two aren’t that close they still get along well, spending their evenings occasionally in bigger groups together. The Aussi was quickly accepted into the little group of you three after he joined Lando as his new teammate two years ago. You went back into the kitchen grabbing drinks for everyone while the boys already chatted about racing. The table was set, the ordered food waiting on the counter. There is only one thing missing now.

You still had a slightly anxious feeling that you couldn't shake off. Maybe it was because you would spend the evening in such close proximity to Lando. You haven’t said it to anyone out loud but you knew what the butterflies in your stomach meant. While you didn’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you couldn’t hide it anymore. You were crushing hard and of course that person has to be your brother’s best friend.

“Hey mate”, Landos voice rans out through the apartment. He came into the kitchen with a wide smile, dimples showing on full display. He quickly pulled each of you into his arms as a greeting. His arms lingered around you for a bit longer, both of you silently enjoying the feeling. “Come on guys, the food is still warm.” Max called out while putting the boxes in the middle of the table. His voice was a bit rougher than usual, almost like he was hiding his emotions. You didn't notice it nor did Lando. Oscar however did notice it and for a millisecond a confused look crossed his face. It was gone before anyone could really notice it.

The four of you sat down at the table, a comfortable silence washing over the room. You sit next to your brother across from Lando. You noticed him looking at you a few times out of the corner of your eye. The butterflies in your stomach were running wild, but you hoped that it didn’t show. As much as you like the idea of being together with the Brit, you knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only because of his career but also because of your brother. You and Max were close and you know his overprotective sides when it comes to the topic of boys being around you. He was always a bit worried about them, maybe given the fact that he raced professionally. It didn't help that you know most of the formula one grid. He was scared of someone using you for your connections, he would not mention this fear though.

You aren't sure how Max would react to the news of you crushing on his best friend nor did you want to find out anytime soon. You talked about everything over dinner; racing, the upcoming season, video games and just what everybody did during the break. You remembered about a year ago when you were all sitting at the same table. Oscar was still new to the group and quite shy, but he opened up which was good to see.

“All right, how about we talk about something different than just racing,” you said. “Not everybody’s life depends on it.” You jokingly added, knowing that the boys love nothing more than to talk about it, especially when they were off for a few weeks. At some point the conversation shifts, now the talk was all about. testing and the upcoming season. “I have a question guys,” Lando suddenly said. His cheeks are a bit pink, unusually so. Your eyes looked over to Oscar slightly, he looked just as confused as you felt. It almost seems like Lando was shy about something perhaps not knowing what to do with the situation. “Do you have anything planned during the weekend when the season starts?” He finally blurted out after a longer pause.

“Not that I could think of,” you replied, looking at your brother. He also shook his head no. “Why do you ask?” “How about you come to watch it?” It was actually Oscar who voiced the question, his eyes always flickering up to you. It was almost like he was saving Lando from something, maybe embarrassment. “For sure,” Max answered quickly, not having to really think about it. The three men turn their heads to you waiting for your answer. “I’m not sure if I can get time off,” you said. “And also don’t exactly have the money for this trip.” You said shyly.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have to pay?” Lando asked. You look at him shocked, did he really just say that? “I got it covered. Don’t worry about that.” He added quickly. Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked a bit embarrassed about saying it. Max looked at his best friend, confusion all over his features, shaking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.

“Please y/n, it would mean the world for both of us,” Lando added, pointing at him and Oscar. He was almost begging at this point. You didn’t know why it was so important for him to have you there. A small part if you wanted to believe that it is because he also had a crush on you. But honestly those were unrealistic expectations. No, Lando could never have a crush on you. That’s for sure.

“Okay okay,” you gave in with a small smile. “I’ll see if I can get a few days off so I can join you in Australia,”you said. You see from the corner of your eyes that your brother has a sour look on his face again. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. ”Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done.“ You try to ignore the look on Maxs face by changing the topic.You took both plates and put them into the dishwasher. You miss the way Oscar looks at both Max and Lando. Ever since this conversation started he has had a slightly confused look on his face, not that you noticed.

It was only a few days after that night when your request for the time off was accepted. That night you spend an hour or maybe two on FaceTime with Lando. He was back in Monaco preparing for the testing in Bahrain. It may have been a few days since that call but you can still see the way he smiled when you shared the news. It was one of the best things ever.

You already talked with Max about when you were leaving to Down Under. While you were more than excited to be in the paddock, see the race and talk to some of the drivers that you know, you couldn’t shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It felt like this little trip would change everything but you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because recently you and Lando have talked almost every night, intensifying your crush on the curly haired man. And even though you were nervous you couldn’t wait to see him in person again in Australia.

part 2 (coming soon)

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I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Requests are open! Want to be added to the taglist? Feel free to reach out.

[moonydustx]

Hiiii!! I love your writing and was wondering if you’re still accepting requests? If so could I have one where reader is dressed in a similar outfit to Nami’s purple Zou outfit and there’s a big party happening and reader gets self conscious bc no ones talking to her during said party so she leaves to go back to her room that has a balcony and as she’s staring down at the party Law comes in to see why she left so she like tells him she feels ridiculous in her outfit and it turns out that Law was jealous that other people got to see her in such an outfit because he likes her so much that he was staring people down so no one would take her attention and he confesses how he feels under the stars on the balcony? and maybe there’s smut🤭🤭🤭 You can skip this request if you want!! I know i wrote a lot 😅

hello, anyone there?

Sorry for the delay in responding to your request and sort of answering your question, yes, I still accept requests, but I've been working kind of 10 hour days + responsibilities at home, which hasn't given me much time to write.

I made some small adjustments to your suggestion, I honestly hope you don't hate me.

•••

my reach

info: what sensations can a pirate life bring? After a victory, a celebration can mean many things.

warnings: text not proofread, will possibly have some errors as English isn't my first language. a kittle bit angst, F!reader have some insecurities, smut, doing in open skies, a little dirty talk.

For those who haven't reached Zou, this is the reference dress.

You didn't know what was echoing louder at that moment: the drunken voices, the singing or your thoughts. It was a party, you should have been happy or at least a little confident.

After so many fights and disputes, the alliance between the pirates had finally worked out and apparently you would finally have some time of peace. What didn't need many more reasons than this for Luffy, captain of one of the allied crews, to suggest a huge banquet, a party that would probably last for days and no one would question it. The good thing about having other crews together was that the reduced number of women - in the heart pirates it was the large number of two, you and Ikkaku - increased, even if not so radically, just enough to fill the fingers of one hand.

"You really didn't like it?" Nami turned you in front of a mirror, forcing you to look at yourself once more. "It suits you so much."

"I think it looks amazing." Robin added with a simple smile. "And it's a banquet between friends, there's nothing to worry about."

"I agree, but after being so stressed with so many events, I think we deserve a more dressed-up day." Nami added, adjusting one of the straps on your dress. "And also a little alcohol, a little flirting, seriously, being a pirate can't be just that and besides there are so many different people here."

"But don't you think it's a bit much?" Your voice wavered a little and you had to dodge the pillow Ikkaku threw in your direction.

"Don't listen to her. We've been underwater for so long and in our uniforms that I think she's lost her common sense."

"Don't talk nonsense." You shot back, laughing. "Okay, a little alcohol won't hurt." About the flirting part, you don't know how safe you would feel with that.

The main deck of the ship was something almost impossible to cross. Some people walked around each other, singing songs that were almost impossible to decipher, others toasted and competed over how many mugs they could down at once. You just went with the flow, keeping up with the others' hurried steps.

It wasn't long before a drink occupied your hand and you got lost in some almost frivolous conversations. The stress you had recently experienced seemed to prevent everyone from thinking about anything more serious and, to be honest, not even you wanted to get caught up in problems at that moment.

"Ladies." Sanji's voice came across the entire space, in his hand some appetizers and you tried hard to ignore the fact that he was almost drooling. "You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen, I would write poems about you..."

In a somewhat strange juggling act, you saw him try to balance the tray in one hand and, with the other, twist to alternate between your colleague's hands, placing a kiss on each of them. Except for you, to whom he just smiled in your direction and headed in the opposite direction. Even staring at the other women present, that seemed like a common situation so you allowed yourself to ignore it.

With an almost lame excuse, your feet took you to the other side of the ship, where you could see your captain's sullen face while being disturbed by other crewmates.

"A good victory." You raised your glass, toasting first to Shachi, then Penguin and finally Law, who seemed to be immersed in something inside his own mind.

"Look, I don't think we've ever seen you so..." Shachi couldn't finish speaking before getting elbowed by his crewmate.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Law asked as soon as the two left with some excuse that you didn't try to understand what it was about.

"Yes, as much as possible."

You even thought about commenting on how you had become an outcast, even though in the hours before you had been trying hard to achieve the exact opposite result. However, for a flash, you were sure that Law was analyzing you. From top to bottom, inch by inch.

"Is there a problem, Captain?" A smile filled your lips as you saw him startled as he was pulled out of his own mind.

"Dresses. You don't usually wear them." He seemed lost in his own words. "It looks..."

Beautiful? Interesting? God, the milliseconds of waiting before Law finished speaking seemed like a small infinity of possibilities in your mind. A place where he had a certain captive vacancy, but he wouldn't even dream of it.

"It looks different." He pointed out and you could only nod.

Different. Okay, it's not the worst answer but it's far from a good one. The relationship between the captain and the subordinate of the two of you was intrinsically... different. Strangely comfortable, uncomfortably distant. He would always prefer to discuss some decisions with you and to the jealousy filled with tantrums and laughter of some, he would insist that you were the best cook of the crew. On your side, you loved ask him for tips, from books to medicines, and whenever possible, you would insist on having him stitch you up after some battles. You hated scars and he was the only one who could prevent them. It was a different relationship, he occupied a somewhat different place in you, but that didn't need to be exposed.

Apparently, if the efforts to look even minimally pretty that night didn't affect him, it wouldn't make any difference anymore. With an almost invisible smile on your lips, you just nodded and left him there. You started talking to some, laughed with others, but it didn't seem to work. From the idea of ​​alcohol and flirting, apparently only the first part was working. Heavens, Brook hadn't even asked about the color of your panties.

Luckily, keeping the ships close to each other meant that it wasn't difficult for you to reach the empty deck of the Polar Tang. The sound of the party was getting a little more distant. The full moon illuminated the entire night and, in addition to reflecting on the sea, created an almost distorted shadow of your body. Was that what you were then? You let your hand run over your dress, analyzing every stitch. Nothing was out of place, nothing seemed wrong with the outfit. The problem must be you.

"I would invest a good amount of berries for your thoughts." Law's voice startled you, which made him laugh. "Did you need some time to breathe?"

"Yeah, I guess so." You leaned against the edge of the deck, drowning in your own frustrations.

"I still have some berries to invest." He tried to lighten the mood, leaning against your side. "I know my crew too well. What happened?"

"It's just... is that all there is to a pirate's life?" You turned around, frustrated. "Tonight I wanted to feel something different from all the stress we have. Something more interesting than the smell of gunpowder, than the sting of a blade."

"I think there's enough booze there for you to feel much more than that."

"It's not that, Law. Geez, I dressed in a way I've never dressed before. Makeup, heels, perfume and still, I'm an outcast." you said frustrated and saw a smirk escape his lips. "Man, this isn't funny. I mean, not even Brook cared about my panties?"

"About that..." he began, his fingers adjusting his hat that wasn't out of place, just like a nervous tic. "Maybe someone threatened to throw him into the sea before he could even speak."

"What do you mean?"

"And maybe I told Sanji that if he got close to you his balls would sink to the bottom of the sea too. And maybe I said something similar to Killer, but he's more rational so he didn't need that much of a threat. And I definitely punched Kid."

"You punched Kid?"

"He said some really disgusting things." Law spoke with a frighteningly ordinary naturalness.

However, for you none of that was ordinary. You just stood there, still, watching the little confessions that came out of Law's lips. So he had pushed you away from everyone? That wouldn't make any sense. Unless...

"Apparently I was brave enough to do all that, but I've been a coward in hiding what I feel. You don't look any different, you look beautiful and I can guarantee that I wasn't the only one who thought that."

"You just made sure I didn't know that, right?"

"Sorry." he commented still in a frustrated tone, but taking a few steps enough to stop in front of you. "I like you, I really do. It got to a point where I found myself reading more books just to know what to recommend to you, I found myself hating being a doctor because I have to stitch you up every time you get into a fight at the same time I wouldn't let anyone touch you for that." He sighed deeply. The short distance between the two of you made your fingers itch to hug him. "What you said makes sense, we're pirates, we shouldn't only feel war inside us."

"What else can we feel then?"

Your lips touched before his hands even reached your waist. It was hard to know what had given you goosebumps more: the cold wind against your bare skin, the way your body was leaning against the edge of the deck, making you imminent of falling, or the way he had advanced on you. Definitely the third option.

His tongue began to invade your space, tracing delicious routes through your mouth, a fight for space that you had no interest in winning. His hands traced your curves until they rested on your waist. Whoever invented the theory that two bodies occupied the same place would probably be a good spectator for the way the two of you snuggled together.

Law seemed to have no shortage of air since, when he gave you space to breathe, his lips simply slid to the hollow of your neck. Wet kisses mixed with small grunts that would be marked on your skin, drawn like a map just for him, just for Law.

His eyes met yours as his kisses continued towards the neckline of your dress. A loud request - but still silent - to explore you beyond where his lips could reach at that moment.

"We could go somewhere else." You suggested breathlessly and saw him bury his face in your breasts, sighing deeply. "I really don't plan on being naked here."

"Naked? Nah." Without even hesitating, he supported you on the edge of the deck, preventing you from falling towards the sea by slipping into the gap between your legs. "I've been looking at you in that dress for too long to want to see you without it now."

"You've been looking?"

"Tell me, wasn't that exactly why you put it on?" An involuntary sigh escaped your lips when one of his hands slid down the inside of your thigh. "You drive me insane normally, but this... do you want to know what I thought?"

The question was rhetorical since beyond the moonlight, lust illuminated the eyes of the man tied to you. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers trailed over the damp fabric between your legs.

"Shh, we need to be discreet, okay? Can you be a good girl and stay quiet?" His fingers intensified the pressure, small circles under the damp fabric sending your mind into a spiral. "I promise to take you inside, let you make all the noise you want. And then I'll leave you naked, have all my time just for you."

"What if I want to stay here?" The question sounded like a challenge and you could have sworn that behind the fabric of his pants something had pulsed. "You still haven't told me what you thought, about the dress."

"What I thought..." he gently pulled you down from the support and turned you back to him. Your body automatically leaned forward, seeking contact. "The first idea that came to mind was you like this, on my table. All beautiful ready for me."

His hands adjusted the fabric of your dress so that it was to the side. His nimble fingers traced an indecipherable pattern on the skin of your ass, outlining the thin fabric of your panties.

"May I..." He asked, still circling the piece and saw you nod. With a delicacy unfamiliar to you, you felt him pull the fabric aside.

"Fuck." The word came out of his lips involuntarily. The sight made him hungrier than any dish he had seen at the banquet.

"What else did you think?" You asked, hearing the sound of his zipper.

"You're smart, I believe you know very well what I thought."

Silent kisses ran down your exposed back. The cold night breeze made contact with your damp skin, causing shivers. The first touch of his cock against your pussy elicited a shy moan from you as his teeth scraped your skin, whispering a shh once more, even though thrusting inside you had forced him to press his face against the back of your neck. The almost inaudible sounds that escaped your lips were enough for Law to almost explode right there.

He should have stopped being a coward before. It was only the first time and he didn't know how he could consider staying without feeling you.

"I'm sorry." He said, moving slowly. "You deserved better than the deck of a submarine."

"We're under the stars. Do you want something even better?" You said breathlessly, stretching your hand to reach his dark strands of hair. Law practically put his head under your hand, sinking into your neck. "Law!"

"I told you princess, no noise." He thrust harder, watching you press your lips together and hold back another moan. "Such a good girl, my good girl."

"A p-princess, huh?"

"My princess, yes. All dressed up like that I couldn't think of anything better." You barely understood how he could form a coherent thought while he was thrusting torturously and deliciously inside you. "I could call it an angel too. The way this beautiful pussy is squeezing me is definitely divine." His laugh at your moan sounded almost devilish, however.

The thrusts began to intensify and you pulled his hand that was holding your torso to cover your mouth, vainly containing the moans that escaped. You could already be clawing at the stars when you felt him pulling out of you. An almost drastic fall from the sky you were in.

"I want to look at you, beautiful thing." He turned you around to face him, lifting you up again. "I want to see that beautiful face when you cum."

"Then come back here now." You locked your legs around him, feeling his delicious invasion of you.

His lips once again took yours, just as voracious - if not even more so - than the first time. His coming and going grew louder and louder as he felt your voice vibrate against his. Moans being censored by each other.

"Hold on to me." He pulled away just enough to ask and you readily complied.

The abyss was getting closer and closer, the knot in your belly getting tighter and tighter. You stuck your body to his at first for fear of falling, but each time it became even more of a need to merge. Your screams hid in the small gap between the two of you, your skin would surely be sore at the slightest since his teeth dug in there as he filled you with his seed.

"I think..." he supported you back, still holding your waist with one hand. With the other, he lifted the shirt he was wearing. Both your eyes and his were guided to where your bodies joined. "We made a bit of a mess."

"A bit?" Your finger caught some of your mixed cum, bringing it to your own lips. "Delicious mess."

"Keep it up and you won't be coming back to the party." A light laugh escaped him as he heard you grunt as he pulled out of you. "On second thought, we don't need to go back."

"Law, you're the captain of one of the crews that was more than essential to the conquest."

"Well, that's a good idea." He said as he adjusted his own clothes and then repeated the gesture with yours. "Some clueless people will be able to know that you are out of their reach."

"Am I?"

"If your captain says so, I believe you should agree." He pointed out.

Your hands comforted his cheeks, smoothing every inch you could touch. A calm, almost chaste kiss escaped you. Anyone who saw from afar would imagine it was just a simple kiss and would not even be able to consider what you were doing a short time ago.

"I - I mean, I really want to keep you out of their reach. Only within my reach." That was it, in so much time as captain and subordinate, you had never seen Law look so nervous.

"Sounds like a good plan to me, captain. However, I hope it is reciprocal." He nodded, stealing another kiss from you.

Going back to the party seemed different. As soon as Law led you back to the ship, you let go of each other's hands, a small agreement of secrecy silently negotiated between you. However, you could feel him in you, in unconventional - and delicious - ways. Occasionally, you could feel his gaze burning in your direction, with distant care.

"Can I talk to you?" Zoro's voice startled you before you even noticed his hand on your waist. "Would you like to have a drink somewhere more private?"

"I'm drinking..." You pointed to the mug in your hand, but it took you a few seconds to fully understand what he was saying. "Oh, no. I mean, thank you, but no. I'm accompanied."

"Accompanied? So your captain finally stopped being a wimp?" Zoro saw and glanced sideways, not surprised to see that whatever Robin was talking to Law about seemed like a distant subject. "Nami asked me to do this, to see if he would do something."

"Hey, swordsman." You could hear the irritation in Law's voice from afar and it was clear how unhappy he was at that moment. "Is there a problem with her?"

"No, Captain, everything's fine here." You smiled in his direction and waved at Zoro, who just ignored what Law had said and left.

"So..." You started, trying to give your best mischievous smile. Which was much easier after remembering everything. "My drink is gone and I think I'm tired. I'm thinking about going back to Polar Tang."

"Sure, I can accompany you." Law said in false modesty.

You could count on your fingers how many steps you took towards a more empty place before the starry night turned into a room you didn't usually visit. Your body soon found his bed, your dress turned into a pile of fabric on the floor. His kisses finally freed to explore every inch of your nudity.

"I think I need to make it even clearer that you're out of their reach."

[girlivealwaysbean]

can someone tell me how to keep going if your hardwork does pay off but you don't feel anything when you achieve your goal just relief and numb again

[aeolianblues]

I'm not an extrovert. At all. In everyday life, I'm a yapper, sure, but I need someone to first assure me I am okay to yap, so I don't start conversations, even when I really want to join in sometimes! It's just the social anxiety acting up. God knows where from and why I lose a lot of my inhibitions when it comes to talking to people about music. I don't know where the confidence has suddenly sprung from. I've made a crazy amount of friends in musical circles, either just talking to people about common music or (since it is after all in music circles) talking to bands about their own music. I let out a sigh of relief any time an interaction goes well, because in truth it's going against my every instinct. I wish I could do that in everyday life

[fumiliar]

self-restraint is one thing kento prides on. he is a good man, or at least he tries to be. his eyes landed on your flailing figure, pinching his nose bridge to prepare himself. you, gojo, kento and shoko went out for drinks to celebrate the fact you 4 were still alive.

your mind was blank, you had no self-control, it was like the shame centre in your brain got turned off.

"oh my god!" you squealed in excitement. "my favourite song!" you stumbled off your bar stool, going to stand up on the table, gojo supporting your brave act.

kento acted quick. right when your foot landed on the table, you were pulled back by an immeasurable amount of strength, your back landing on someone's muscular chest.

"how drunk are you?" a gruff voice spoke right beside your ear, sending shivers through your whole body. your senses were already heightened, but at this moment, you could feel everything. you could hear the fastening rhythm of your heart, along with the steady rhythm of another's.

"earth to y/n~," satoru's singsong voice echoed through your empty head.

"yea, sorry," you shook your head, turning around to see kento's disapproving look. his hand keeping a deathly grip on your wrist, ensuring you were always close to him, in case you'd do something embarrassing, or at least that's what he tells himself.

"y/n, i'll bring you ho-"

"don'tt, you're such a party pooper nanamin! we were just getting started," the blue eyed man whined, he looked like he was about to start a tantrum.

"yeah, let's just wrap it up, i wanna go home," shoko agreed with kento, getting ready to leave. "i'll leave y/n to you, gojo, come." satoru following shoko like a sad puppy.

"let's go home," kento used his free hand to pack up your stuff, double checking if you took anything out of your purse.

"you're so hot when you take care of me," you freely complimented kento, his ears slowly turning beet red.

"i like you kento, you know that right?" you kept talking, kento's face slowly turning a darker shade of red. "why are you so red? are you having a fever?" you used your free hand to feel his forehead, even in your drunken state, you still worried about his health.

"no...y/n. i'm fine," he put your bag on your shoulder as he led you out of the establishment.

"ow....my feet hurt ken," you pouted looking down at your heels.

restrain yourself kento. restrain. was the only thing he could think off as he looked back at you. he didn't want to take advantage of your drunken self. he knelt down as he took of your heels, you bracing yourself on his back. he slowly took your hand of his back, putting down your heels on the ground to take off his blazer.

"up," his back facing you as he knelt down. you weren't going to waste a chance getting piggy backed. instantly, your arms slid around his neck as your legs trapped his torso. kento stood up, picking up your heels and adjusting his hold on you.

"comfy?" you nodded against his neck. "take this, and wrap it around your waist," he handed you his blazer. you instantly listened, wrapping the blazer around your waist, making sure you don't flash anyone along your way home.

"ken, you're so good to me," you mumbled, nibbling on his neck, eliciting a groan out of the man.

"you're such a tease," kento chuckled, smiling to himself at his current predicament.

"we're not even dating....hft," you sighed. kento let out a hearty laugh at your dissatisfaction.

"why do you want us to date?" kento asked making you even more disappointed.

"what woman doesn't want stability!" this time you were annoyed. you straightening your back, not leaning on kento's anymore. kento was still joyful, instead of responding to your annoyance, he loosened his grip on your legs, your instincts kicked in, quickly wrapping your hands around his neck once more to ensure your safety.

"were you about to drop me??" panic was evident in your tone, but kento was still amused. "answer me!" your hand hitting on his chest.

"y/n," kento sternly called out your name, abruptly stopping your abuse on his chest. "we're married love, isn't that the epitome of stability? why would i regress our relationship to just boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"huh?..." you were confused for a second, quickly looking at your hand. and there it was, glistening in the moonlight, your wedding ring. "oh.."

kento couldn't help but tease your drunken self, his self-restraint always wavering when it came to you. the prim and proper man turning playful in your presence, he just couldn't help it. he continued his walk home, occasionally giggling at your forgetful nature.

"i hope you don't forget this moment," kento muttered under his breath, knowing full well you would have no memory of this event, only a pounding headache to remind you of yesterday's events.

[multific]

Soulmates

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: In which your soulmate is the perfect opposite of you. 

Before he was the Emperor, Geta was much the same. 

He loved violence. He enjoyed the games even as a young child. 

He and his brother grew up to be Emperors. 

Ruthless and fierce Emperors. 

You were born as the daughter of a Senator. 

Your father believed you were a disappointment. He wished for a son. 

But your mother loved you so. 

She made you the woman you are today. 

Calm. Collected. Kind. 

After your mother’s passing, your father was desperate to get rid of you. 

He wanted to find you a husband. 

Even if you told him that you were not ready for marriage. Your father was stubborn. 

Your presence was not required but you insisted on going with your father. 

While he was with the other senators, you looked at the art in the hallway. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see a man approaching you. 

You turned and bowed even without seeing him properly. 

“Who are you?” His voice is like honey you felt it run down your spine. 

“I’m a senator’s daughter, My Lord.”

“Lord? I’m your Emperor.” You squeezed your eyes but refused to look at him. 

“I apologize. My father told me to not look at anyone in here.” 

“What is your name?” He asked. 

“Y/N. My Emperor.” your eyes fixed on the floor. 

”Look at me.” You sensed his impatience and your eyes snapped at him. 

As your eyes locked you sensed something deep inside you. You didn’t know what it was. But it felt so right. It washed over you like a warm bath on a cold day.

You noticed the look in his eyes. You could tell he felt the same force as you. 

Perhaps it was the Gods. 

Dooming you right in that moment for looking at the Emperor. 

But it felt so right. If Doom truly felt like this, you would be happy to accept it. 

He was about to say something when your father’s voice stopped him. 

“Daughter! Do not bother the Emperor. What did I tell you? I apologize for my stupid daughter, Emperor Geta.”

Your father grabbed your arm rather harshly, making you let out a yelp. 

“DO NOT.” The emperor yelled causing your father to stop, let go of you and you both looked at him. “Touch her again and you are dead.” His eyes twitched with anger. 

“Emperor Geta?” Your father asked. You looked between the two men. 

“You touch her like that again and I will feed you to the tigers. No one can touch her.” 

“She is my daughter.” Your father said with a puzzled expression. 

“Not anymore. From this day, she is your Empress.”

Now that made you almost choke on your own saliva. 

“I’m sorry?” You asked and Geta finally looked at you. 

“This way.” He stretched his hand out to you. You grabbed his hand, his skin felt so perfect against yours. 

What just happened? You had no clue. 

But he guided you to the gardens. You followed him closely as he dismissed his guards but never let go of your hand. 

“Emperor Geta?” 

The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine. You felt him shiver.

"I apologise for not recognising you."

"It is-" he stopped himself as he turned to look at you, his hand let go of yours. "That is not why I-" he let out a loud groan. You could only watch him as he avoided your eyes.

You wondered if he had ever been this flustered and confused. 

You decided to look around and take in the beauty of the garden.

"This is very beautiful," you said as you looked at a statue surrounded by flowers.

"You are," he said and your head once again snapped towards him. When he didn't correct himself, you knew you heard him correctly the first time.

You smiled at him and watched as his lips turned to a smile as well.

---

When Geta said you would be the Empress, he didn't lie, not even a week passed and you were already married.

Your wedding was grand as everyone celebrated the Emperor and you. Geta's brother, Caracalla was having probably the most fun. Poking fun at his brother for getting married, constantly laughing and joking about it. 

You have never seen your father after that day. 

It was strange, you barely knew Geta and yet, you felt so happy with him.

You didn't understand how it was possible to fall in love so quickly. 

But it happened. And you were happy.

Geta proved to be a kind and attentive husband despite his reputation as a ruler. 

He brought you to the Gladiator games, while you didn't enjoy the blood and killing as much as your husband did, you did very much enjoy spending time with Geta and his brother.

Geta walked around with you by his side and he was the proudest. He called you by so many kind names. He always made sure to let you know just how beautiful you were. 

With everyone else, he was still a ruthless Emperor.

"My Wife?" he entered the room and looked around confused. You should have been in there, waiting for him, but you weren't. He was about to go ask the guards but he decided to check and look out the balcony.

And there you were.

Walking in the garden, enjoying the sun with a smile on your face. 

He decided to just watch you.

Observe you when you thought no one was watching. You were walking around, enjoying the flowers, occasionally stopping to smell the roses. 

You looked so ethereal. So beautiful.

Geta couldn't help himself, so he headed down to meet you.

When he reached you, he pulled you in for a kiss without a single word. 

This is what it feels like to find your soulmate.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[rindreamery]

two hands on me.

you had agreed to keep your relationship with itoshi rin a secret. but after an important win, he decides he doesn't want to keep you a secret any longer. f1!itoshi rin x reader ─ fluff, angst if you squint, w.c. 1.6k+ ─ content: kissing/making out

note. watched that one f1 wag edit of nicole scherzinger and the helmet kiss, and i had to write about this IMMEDIATELY. just with a twist cuz i didn't know how to make a helmet kiss romantic LMAO

it’s late, but the roar of the crowd is lively and deafening around you. it's echoing in your ears.

you stand there in the midst of it, hands clasped together, behind the divider that separates you from the track. but you’re ignoring the noise as you focus on itoshi rin, the man of the hour. there’s tears of overwhelming joy and pride brimming in your eyes, and your heart is racing with excitement from the buzz of watching such a victory.

he’s just finished the race; he’s barely stepping out of his race car before he’s being bombarded by the people around him. you’re not surprised by this. this victory, it’s big. so big. one of the most important in his career, and the entire world is watching him, cheering for him. there’s people who have traveled from all over the world, just to be able to watch him. their phones are pointed at him, immortalizing this moment, and other people are fighting for a sliver of his time.

he deserves every second of this.

you’d been a witness to his hard work; you were there every step of the way. from the long training periods, to the excruciating workout regiment he had to endure to make sure his body was ready for this circuit, and the long hours spent doubting if he could really do it all. you (and him) know better than anyone else that he was meant to win.

you want him to shine. 

but the selfish part of you wants him to know that you’re also watching him, that you’re cheering for him too. that part of you that wants to run onto the track and join him, to hold his face in your hands and tell him how absolutely proud you are. to keep all his attention to yourself, to kiss him until neither of you can breathe. but you stay in your spot— you know you can’t.

all you can do is watch from afar.

your relationship is a secret, after all. a mutual, and carefully hidden truth between the two of you. it was agreed on, after a deep conversation, that it was probably within your best interest to keep it that way. he didn’t want you to get bombarded by his fans. he knew better than anyone else how it felt like to have random people poke their noses into his business, and he didn't want that for you. and you didn’t want to put a damper on his career, knowing that it could ultimately result in the loss of support for him. this is for the best, so you stay hidden.

(but, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck to not be able to publicly support him the way he deserves.)

it’s a given that you’re not expecting him to look your way— not here, not now. not when he’s basking in the glory of his victory in a crowd of thousands. his crew was crowding him, equally as thrilled as the audience, and paparazzis were swarming around with flashing cameras all asking for his attention.

right now, you weren’t itoshi rin’s girlfriend. you were just another fan in the crowd, standing there, heart filled with pride and joy.

you’re just about ready to leave, uninterested in going onto the track to watch the podium celebrations, ready to escape the crowd and go back to your shared home. you’ve set your mind on the fact that you’re content on congratulating him when he gets back, surprising him with his favorite meal.

but you don’t get far before the crowd erupts again, and this time, everyone’s pushing past one another to get into your section. you don’t even think about it. you just act on instinct, stepping closer to the barrier once again, curiosity getting the best of you.

and then you see him.

he’s breaking free from the chaos, his eyes scanning the crowd with an urgency you’ve never seen before. and there, in the middle of it all, his eyes land on you. your gazes connect, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. he stumbles for a second, momentarily shoved back by the crowd. and then, the next second— there’s no hesitation in his movements as he pushes past the people, ignoring the gasps of offense.

alarms go off in your head; he’s jogging straight towards you.

he still hasn’t stripped himself of his driving kit, not caring enough about that in that moment. he’s still wearing his helmet, face covered and unreadable, and his hands are still wrapped in his gloves.

but then he’s ripping his gloves off, haphazardly throwing them on the ground behind him as he makes a beeline for you. he’s undoing the clasp of his helmet with clumsy hands, and he doesn’t bother to push it fully off, awkwardly laying on top of his head. once his face is no longer blocked by the tinted plastic, you see that his eyes are staring straight at you. there’s a look of set determination on his face, and you can’t deny the feeling of nervousness that washes over you.

for once, it feels like you don't know what he's thinking of doing.

and then rin’s standing in front of you within seconds, and his breath is ragged and uneven from the jog. but he doesn’t wait to catch his breath. not when all he can think of this one thing: his second win of the night. he doesn’t wait for a word from you— no, he doesn’t have the patience. he doesn’t ask for permission. he’s jumping over the barrier, and his hands are gripping at your hips in a heartbeat, pulling you to him.

"tell me," he’s giving you an out before he does something he can’t take back. “tell me if you don’t want me, this, right now.”

you’re not sure what he means, but you answer anyway. “i want this.”

then everything becomes a blur; it all happens so fast. your mind is still reeling from the shock. from how rin’s acting. and you’re overwhelmed by thoughts of the cameras, now all pointed towards you, and rin standing right in front of you. real, and very much not a hallucination. you’re barely able to register anything before one of his hands is traveling up, pushing at the back of your head to pull you into a kiss.

you freeze, unsure of what to do.

you can't help but make a noise of surprise when you make contact with him. it’s soft at first. his lips are moving with yours in a shallow, but hungry, kiss. as if the words he couldn't say were being poured into it, into you. and then his hand is traveling to the nape of your neck, pressing gently against it, and he’s tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

one of your hands instinctively fly up to cradle his jaw, palm cupping his cheeks, gently. the other hand clings onto the collar of his tracksuit, knuckles turning white from your grip.

his hold on you is firm, grounding you, constantly pulling and clutching at you to keep you close to his body. you can feel the desperation, the way his lips stay locked on yours even as you both run out of breath. even when your mind starts to grow fuzzy, and your brain starts to signal for air. as if, in his mind, you would run away from this.

but you don’t. you would never.

in that moment, the world falls into silence around you. the noise from the crowd fades into the background, and it's just you and him. no cameras, no flashing lights. even the plastic of his helmet, digging into the skin of your head, doesn’t bother you. you know nothing but the feeling of his lips against yours, his two hands on you, and the way his heart is beating in sync with yours.

“rin–” you gasp, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. you're coming to your senses, and your palms are weakly pushing at his chest to pull away from him momentarily. but his hands keep you in place, not wanting to let go. “hold on— i thought we were keeping this a secret? so many people are watching us right now.”

you hate this feeling of being pulled back into the present. the fact that you can feel the overbearing presence of the cameras, and how you can practically feel the stares burning holes into the back of your head. but he’s quick to pull your attention back on him, one hand squeezing at your hip reassuringly, the other tilting your chin to face him. his face softens at your words, almost looking guilty, and his eyes filled with tenderness and vulnerability.

focus on me, you can almost hear him say. it's just me.

you're looking at him expectantly, and he can see the worry in your eyes. this is sudden, he's aware, and he knows you both made an agreement. but rin’s never cared much for the approval of the media— he'd only ever cared about you. it’s his, and your, life and no one else’s business.

he'd made up his mind already. he's willing to fight anyone who insults you, and he doesn't care if he loses the support of some fans. (he knows he'll gain more anyway.) he wants to show everyone who’s been truly supporting him.

his number one fan. the one who's behind all his successes.

rin doesn’t want to hide you any longer— he doesn’t want you to hide any longer. he wants the world to know what’s his.

“i don’t care if they're watching,” he breathes against your lips, forehead resting against yours. your breaths are still shallow, chests heaving against each others, but he’s leaning in again for another. “i want to show off my biggest win.”

and his lips are on yours once again.

© rindreamery, 2024

[gurugirl]

DILF [2] | older!harry

→ MAIN MASTERLIST ←

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again months later on Valentine's Day. It's unexpected, but very much welcome.

A/N: First part here! This isn't really super focused on Valentine's Day, it just happens to takes place on Valentine's Day.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warning: age gap, smut, alcohol consumption (light), spanking, a touch of jealousrry

. .

Y/n wasn't big on Valentine's Day. She'd never dated anyone long enough for it to be of much importance. Though she did fondly remember the little heart-shaped candies and tiny Valentine's cards that would get shared in school when she was little, things were different as an adult.

So, instead of celebrating the holiday (if it could be called a holiday), she'd be going out with her single girlfriends and celebrating being a single girl instead. A single girl with a few drinks in her belly and a little dancing to get the blood flowing. Tara tried to do some kind of seductive dip to the beat of the song while Warren and Y/n laughed.

"This is how you do it!" Warren shouted over the loud club music and grooved her way down with the beat. She was the one with all the rhythm. Y/n and Tara were fighting for their lives to keep rhythm, but they were having fun, nonetheless.

"Priya commented on the post. Look…" Tara held her phone out to Y/n to look at the comment on her Instagram account.

"J said Y/n's looking yummy tonight!"

Y/n laughed and looked at Tara. "J? Oh my god, I haven't talked to him in ages. Let me respond!"

She took Tara's phone and typed a comment.

"You both should come out with us!"

After another round of drinks and dancing, Priya and J had joined the group at the club. Y/n wasn't necessarily interested in J. In fact, she hadn't really been interested in anyone since Harry. It'd been a couple of months since she'd seen him. Their night together was engraved under her skin and in her brain. She thought that with some time she'd forget about the older man, but her fingertips tingled and her chest grew tight whenever she thought about him, which was daily.

She didn't know why she had never called him. Maybe she was just stubborn, hoping he'd find her somehow and reach out himself. She had his number, but he didn't have hers. When he dropped her off at her place the morning after, he gave it to her and told her to call him.

And the more time that had passed, the more awkward it felt to randomly reach out to him. Now the window was surely closed, and she'd blown it. Which she regretted. She regretted that she was stubborn and wanted him to chase her that time. Wanted him to work to find her—which wouldn't have been all that hard. She had every social media account known to man, and everything was public. All he had to do was type her name into a Google search bar, and he'd find a dozen ways to contact her.

But she didn't call, and he didn't search her up, and that felt like the end of that. Unfortunately. It was unfortunate because he'd been so good. So exceptional compared to every other man she'd been with (if she could even call anyone who came before Harry a man). She was way more into him than she realized. Of course, by the time she realized it was too late, and now she was kicking herself.

"Hey, you here with us?" Tara took Y/n's hand and moved her away from the dance floor.

"Yeah. What do you mean?"

"You were zoned out there for a sec. Staring off toward the exit. You okay?"

Blinking her eyes and looking around, she nodded. "I'm good. Just started thinking. Sorry. Maybe I need a water. Probably should slow down a little anyway."

"Of course. Yeah, go get water. And stop thinking. I know who you're thinking about. He's in the past now. Okay?"

Tara knew that Y/n was kind of stuck on Harry. She'd confided in her a couple of weeks later. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was eating away at her.

"You're right. I'll be right back."

No sooner had she stepped away from Tara than J was on her heels. "I'll come with you!"

The oak bar was cast in reds and pinks for Valentine's Day. A sappy, upbeat song played loudly as she waved toward the bartender to order a water. J stood next to her, leaned into the veneered wood. "Just water?"

Yn nodded. "Need to cool off a little. Not interested in getting sloppy, ya know?"

She tried to ignore the way he was looking at her, turning her head to peer around the space and pretend she wasn't aware of where his eyes were wandering. She could deal with J. He was nice enough, and she knew he wouldn't push or anything. He was a bit too mild for that.

When her water was handed to her, the pink straw inside was tucked next to a stirrer with a heart at the top. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she took a drink as J slid in a little closer. "Do you wanna dance?"

She really didn't want to, not with him. It wasn't that he was ugly or unlikable or anything… she just didn't want to give him the wrong impression. Leading men on wasn't her style.

But before she even had the chance to tell him no, she saw a familiar hand attached to a familiar arm placed down on the bar next to her. She slowly turned, looking upward at the man whom she'd just been thinking about. He wasn't smiling as he leaned closer to speak. "You never called."

Turning so she could face him, she placed her elbows behind her on the bar top and lifted her brows in an attempt to feign complete control and calm. "Correct."

She watched as Harry looked past her to J and then back down at her. "Who's this?"

"A friend. Why? Jealous?"

She didn't know what angle she was going for with her hard-to-get act, but that's all it was—an act. Deep down, under her cool facade, she wanted to finish unbuttoning his shirt, the top three buttons already free, so anyone could see what he was working with underneath.

"Jealous of a boy? No."

Y/n reached for his button and pressed at it, her eyes on his. "Now, Harry. Honestly… He's my age. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to find someone my age. Thought you'd be happy for me."

"Thought you said he was just a friend."

She laughed and looked back at J, who was just standing by silently, looking between Harry and Y/n. Far too mild. She turned back to Harry. "See? You are jealous."

"Why didn't you call?"

Clearing her throat, she shifted her footing to get a little closer. "Because I wanted you to find me. I worked so hard to get you to crack that night we met and thought maybe you could put in a little effort if you were interested."

"That's not how it works," he spoke as he dipped his head closer, placing his other palm down on the edge of the bar to cage her in. "I gave you my number. You didn't give me any of your contact info. Didn't want to overstep. Ball was in your court."

"I'm easy to find, Harry. All you had to do was Google my name."

"I know. That's why I'm here. Saw your post on Instagram."

She lifted her brows, and a smile pulled at her mouth. "Is that so? And did you select this outfit just for me?" She reached again for his shirt, letting her pointer finger trail down the cotton edge along the button slits before she ran the pad of her finger on his warm skin.

Harry looked down at her hand and then back into her eyes. "Was gonna go on a date tonight. That's why I'm dressed like this."

She blinked, moving her hand away.

"Hey, uh… should we like… go back? Or, uh…" J spoke tentatively as he stepped closer.

"She's with me. You're welcome to go wherever you please, though," Harry responded, his gaze locked on Y/n's.

"I think—actually, um…" J stumbled on his words.

Y/n lifted her hand and looked over at J. "It's fine. Harry and I have a lot to discuss. You can go back to our table."

J opened his mouth and searched Harry's face, then looking back at Y/n and nodding, he scuttled away like a dog with his tail between his legs. She felt a little bad. Clearly, he thought he might have had a chance even though he never did.

"See? A boy. Couldn't even form a sentence. What are you doing with him anyway?"

"We were having fun is what we were doing. Hanging out with people my age. Why do you care anyway? You said you were gonna go on a date. Where is she?"

"I don't know where she is. Maybe at home. I didn't want to go out with her, so I cancelled."

"Then why did you plan a date?"

"So I could try and move on from you."

She hadn't expected that level of honesty from him, but his confession had her heart thumping hard in her chest.

"Coming here to find me doesn't make it seem like you want to move on."

He shook his head, his eyes shifting downward over her dress before pinning them back on hers. "I didn't think we were done yet. Really expected you to call."

"And I really expected you to figure out how to find me. Should have been easy."

"You like the chase, then. Is that what you want? For me to chase you? Follow you around like a puppy dog?"

She laughed softly. "I don't think being a puppy is quite your style. But I do like that you came all this way just to see me."

He edged his hand toward her arm, running a thumb over her skin. "I'm too old to play games, Y/n. If you expect me to run after you, jump through hoops just to see you, and beg you for your time, then I'm not your guy."

"But you came here to see me."

"Yes, I did. Consider this your freebie cause I won't do something like this again. Ball's in your court now. What do you want? To go back and play with that little boy I sent away? Or to stop fucking around and come back home with me tonight again?"

Her lips parted as heat rose up her spine. A wanton need wrapped itself around her throat as she swallowed thickly. She enjoyed being the one with all the power and feeling like she was in charge. But it was different with Harry. Despite everything, he was the one calling the shots. And she wanted him so bad she could taste it. After all, he'd ditched a date so he could come find her.

"You like me." She grinned.

The tension outlining his posture softened as he rolled his eyes, and she watched as the edge of his lips turned upward. "What gave it away?"

"I like you, too. But my place is closer this time."

Y/n's friends were already watching the whole thing go down before she returned and told them she was heading out. Tara smiled. "We'll talk tomorrow."

Her apartment was only a few minutes' drive away. The small talk they'd been making before they stepped inside her place all but vanished the moment Harry pushed her to the wall and placed his knee between her thighs with a desperate kiss.

She even gasped in surprise when he moved her and she felt the plaster of her wall behind her back. He ran a rough palm up her bare thigh, the skirt of her dress shifting upward until the stretchy material was at her hips and he groped her ass.

"Wanted to do this the second I saw you standing at the bar. Show everyone who's taking you home…" he spoke against her mouth as his thumb caught on the slinky elastic string of her thong. She felt his thigh inching up between her legs as he moved in closer.

She was pinned to the wall as he worked his mouth down her neck and continued kneading at her ass. But then she felt the material of his pants against the crotch of her panties as his thigh pressed solidly into her.

A small, weak-sounding whimper fell from her mouth when he nudged against her, signaling for her to move her hips. The spot where his mouth kissed and sucked over her throat had her head spinning and it was almost involuntary as she began to rub herself on his thigh. She gripped onto his shoulders when he began to guide her hips.

It was kind of pathetic, the way they hadn't even made it into her bedroom. Barely'd made it past her door before they were all over one another. And now, there she was, grinding her pussy against his thigh like she was in some kind of dire need, a pitiful girl so wrapped up in desperation that she was reduced to humping his thigh like a pup in heat.

The most embarrassing thing was how good it felt. His lips on her skin, his thick thigh pressed against her, his hands on her ass. "Oh god…"

Harry moved his face and looked down at her with a smirk. "Making a mess, Y/n. Guess your tough girl act was all fake. Now look at you…"

Slowing her hips, she reached up to his face. "You started it."

A boyish dimple scored into his cheek as he lifted his brows. "Did I now? Clearly, you like it. Soaking right through my pants."

"Mmm… You like it too, though. Love how wet I get, don't you?"

He licked his lips and shook his head like he couldn't believe how tenacious she was, even when pinned against her wall. "So sure of yourself, Y/n. When my day started, I imagined I'd be doing this with someone else by the end of it. Bet she'd get just as wet for me."

Y/n let out a serrated breath, though she never stopped grinding over his thigh. "Doubtful. You wanted me. Practically dragged me out of the club 'cause you knew that other chick wouldn't do it for you like I can."

"Do what for me? Huh? Hump my thigh like a desperate, horny little girl?" He teased as she moaned at the way he nudged his leg up harder.

"You wanted me a little desperate, and that's what you got. You knew nothing was gonna feel as good as me. You missed it."

"Maybe. Maybe I kept imagining you every time I got off for the past two months. Maybe the only reason I agreed to a date with that other woman was because she kind of resembled you. Wanted to pretend I was fucking you again."

Y/n let out a moan. "I want you to fuck me."

"Do you deserve that, Y/n? After that little stunt you pulled? Huh? Leaving me high and dry like that? Wasn't nice."

"I wanted to call you. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Hmm… but you wanted to play games. Not sure sorry cuts it."

He moved his leg away, and Y/n stumbled forward, her hands on his shoulders as he pulled her dress back down over her thighs.

"What can I do to make you believe me?" She looked at him with rounded eyes, hoping that he wasn't changing his mind as he pushed away and took a step back.

"Not sure. Maybe that's something you're gonna have to have to figure out. This is a lot of work, you know? Telling you what to do and how to do it. Might be nice for you to try and use that brain of yours for once."

She scoffed as he grinned at her. She knew he was mocking her, and it was meant to be playful, but still. "For once? You don't think I use my brain?"

He shrugged as he paced into her living room, and she watched him look around like he was assessing. Following behind him, she kept her eyes on his strong build and turned a light on. It was clear he was sporting a thick erection under his pants at that point. She smiled when she stepped toward him.

Taking his belt, she gripped at the leather and pulled it through the buckle before she opened his pants and cupped around his length. "You can fuck my mouth. I won't even complain. I'll let you use me however you want."

She got onto her knees and kept her eyes on his as she peeled his underwear down. His big cock had been straining against the material of his boxers and it nearly hit her in the face when it was released. She cooed and gripped around the base of him to lift it upward and began kissing gently along the underside and down to his sac.

Harry stitched his brows together, and his lips parted as he watched her. He placed a hand at the back of her head and moaned. He didn't really care about an apology, but he was going to make damn sure she understood he wasn't into the little games. He'd had plenty of that kind of thing when he was younger. When he was closer to her age, and he'd never been a fan of it.

If she really did want to be with him, or at least date a while, she'd need to learn that he wanted things clear and well communicated. "That's a good girl. Keep going."

She stroked from root to tip as she tongued along his skin, making a wet path as she went. But suddenly, he grasped her chin and tilted her head back before he shoved his thick head past her lips and slid it down her tongue, bumping against the roof of her mouth as he went. She steadied herself, quickly, gripping his muscled thighs as he held the back of her head and worked himself in and out.

He was going easy on her, not pressing his full length down her throat. Not yet. "Let's put that pretty mouth to good use. Show me you can work for it, yeah?"

Harry thrust in, his mushroomed crown glided over her tongue and back out to her soft lips before he did it again, a little deeper that time, the slit of his cock kissing the back of her mouth just before it curved into her throat. He kept his eyes on her face and the way her lips wrapped around him just right.

"Fuck you're so pretty, Y/n." He thumbed at the edge of her lip as he drove into her, feeling the saliva from her mouth coating his cock. He moaned when she blinked her eyes up at him. "Didn't want anyone else to suck my cock but you. Didn't want to even touch anyone else. Know that?"

She hummed over him in answer as he pushed deeper, making her gag lightly as the metal on his buckle clanked with his movements. "I know you know that. Proved it to you by making a fool of myself, stalking your Instagram so I knew where you were gonna be. Got me all wrapped up in you after just one goddamn night."

Y/n felt her eyes blur as tears roll down her cheeks when he nuzzled his dick in deeper and she swallowed around his tip with an embarrassing wet spluttering sound. She'd let him choke her with his cock if that's what it took. After hearing his confession, she only wanted to show him how much she had missed him and how sorry she was for not calling.

So, she leaned into him further, squeezing her eyes closed as she tried to force the rest of him into her throat. The gagging and gargling noises she made were loud. It sounded like someone was being waterboarded.

"Fuck…" he gasped as she sputtered around him. He bent his knees the slightest as he let her suck and swallow around him. She was treating his cock so good he didn't know if he should just let her continue milking him like that until he was nutting down her throat or if he should reward her by returning the favor.

But damn did she feel good on his dick. She was giving it her all, and he'd decided she was forgiven.

Pulling her back, his wet dick slid past her lips and hung heavy in front of her face as he helped her stand up. She inhaled sharp breaths between little coughs as she wiped her face. "Was it okay?"

"Better than okay. You're a fuckin' star, Y/n. I need you in your bed, though. Got a condom?"

Knocking her head up and down affirmatively, she blinked her bleary eyes. Harry followed her to her bedroom and watched as she pulled a small box of condoms from her underwear drawer, and he took it from it before he pointed at her dress. "Clothes off. Then get your ass on the bed."

The thrill of having him there made her shaky. She yanked at her dress and removed the fabric before shedding the rest of her underthings.

Harry kicked his pants and his boxers off before his shirt joined the pile of clothes on the floor. He watched her climb onto her bed and sit at the middle in wait. He tossed the box of condoms onto her mattress (secretly pleased it was unopened, unused) and crawled after her on the bed, adjusting her legs and pushing her thighs apart before he thumbed her clit smoothly.

"Do you deserve to come? Think you deserve my cock?"

Y/n blinked at him as she nodded. "Yes. I just want to be good. Make you come too. Please…"

He grinned as he let his eyes coast down her denuded body. She rolled into his thumb before he took his other hand and pressed his middle finger inside. Everything that touched her pussy was glistening wet. The gushy sound his finger made as he fucked into her was lewd. She spread her legs apart further for him and dropped her mouth open as she kept her eyes on his.

She was so pretty like that. Naked and spread apart for him, lusting for him, wanting him. He added another finger and pumped into her harder. Her tits swayed as her pussy swallowed his fingers whole. She was so confident and bold it had his insides pulsing with need.

With his eyes pinned to hers he dipped down to replace his thumb on her clit with his lips and his tongue. Y/n fell backward to her mattress and moaned from the pleasure. His tongue stroked her clit and pressed flat over it before he pulled at it and repeated all while he fucked her as deep as his fingers could reach.

He held her down as she arched her back. His chin and his nose were wet, slurping and groaning into her as he worked her so close to the edge she was already seeing stars. "Yes… right there… right there…"

But he suddenly moved away. His fingers, his mouth, his body. She sat up to look at him and watched in satisfaction as she saw him digging into the box of condoms. His face was flushed and matched the shade of heat on his heaving chest.

He rolled the tight rubber down his shaft and then looked at her with dark eyes. "Turn over. Hands and knees."

With a smirk, she got to her knees and made sure to let her eyes linger on his cock before she turned and placed her palms flat onto the mattress. "Like this?" She wiggled her ass at him.

Harry moaned deeply and placed his hands on the curve of her hips, smoothing his palms over every inch slowly. "Exactly like this."

She felt him lean over her back, his mouth at her ear as he palmed at her tit. "How do you feel about me spanking you a little?" His dick was warm between her thighs as she pushed back against him.

"Whatever you do, I'm gonna love." She reared back again and turned her face to look at him as he sat back. She watched him raise his arm before his palm struck her bum with a sting.

She keened sharply and jolted forward. He did it again in the same spot as he locked his irises with hers. "Other side now."

As promised, he landed his hand over the globe of her ass again, once and then twice, a burning sensation left behind making her inhale sharply.

Then he kneed in closer and she felt him line up his dick with her entrance, fitting himself into her slowly before he plowed in with one thick, harsh thud that had her bending forward face down.

She yelped into the soft comforter when he issued her another spanking, one to each side, as he began to thrust in and out of her, long and languid with heavy palms burning into her skin.

The bite of pain blossomed with heat and curled outward, spreading along her flesh until she could almost feel the detail of his fingerprints searing into her, marking her. He groaned as he drove in deep, glutes flexing as he forced his cock through her sensitive insides.

Her bottom was stinging, aching, burning with every smack of his hand… until it wasn't. Until the gooey, pleasurable warmth of her walls that stretched around his cock deliciously melded with the sharp barbed pain of his swats… That was—it felt like her body was thrumming with a lusty, satisfying ecstasy that sent liquid fire through her veins.

"Fuck, oh god, fuck…" she mumbled into the blankets as her body was spanked and fucked and swatted and pounded. She loved it.

Harry halted, planting his palms down on the mattress to catch his breath, cock buried whole into her. They were both panting, reeling… Y/n's muffled moans pulled a smile onto his lips.

"Apology accepted," he spoke quietly as he kissed the center of her back between her shoulder blades and then reached forward to gently wrap his big hand around the front of her neck to lift her head.

"Hear me?" His deep voice sounded in her ear.

She nodded, the column of her throat bobbing into his palm, eyes still closed as she let out a feminine grunt that was probably meant to mean yes.

"You okay?"

Again, she nodded slowly, this time her eyes fluttered open. "Mmhmm. Yes."

"Hurt?" He punctuated his question with a rock of his hips forward, nudging into the end of her sharply.

She hissed, and her spine bowed. "Yes."

Slowly, he began to thrust, sliding out and in when he felt her swallow thickly before her moans vibrated into his palm. She was dripping. Every time his hips met her skin, it wetted his lap and the front of his thighs.

She had been all he wanted. Ever since the morning he dropped her off. Thought for sure he'd hear from her by the way she was acting around him. All flustered and soft and dreamy-eyed as she looked at him. Pouted when he said he couldn't come in but gave her his number. And then she just never called.

That was a hit to his ego. That he thought he somehow had the upper hand with her. But now he had her drooling, moaning, and sobbing his name as he railed her deep. He would see to it that she didn't leave him hanging like that again. He'd give it to her so good she wouldn't be able to even think about another man. At least for a little while.

But Y/n was feeling the same kind of way about him. And now he was at her place, in her bed, fucking her with his big cock like he had something to prove.

"Mmm… Harry…"

"Yeah?" He pushed in firmly, swiveling his hips to let her feel all of him. "Is that good?"

"Fuck… it's deep—sh…shit!"

Letting go of her neck, Harry used both hands to guide her rhythm as he fucked into her, tilting her into an angle that had the big crown of his cock hitting a tender spot inside her. She tensed and clawed at the blankets in response to how he commanded her movements.

He loved watching her pussy slickly spread apart on his cock, how tight it wrapped around him, how wet she made everything, the way her ass wobbled. He was tempted to give her another swat but thought better of it, knowing that he'd already done a number on her backside. Her skin was raised just enough that he could feel the small welts from his hands. He didn't want to break the skin.

His abs clenched as he plowed his dick through her, their bodies clapping together, her bed wrenching under them from the force of his thrusts. She was mumbling nonsense, straining to keep herself steady as he worked her over him with his hands gripping the meat of her hips tight.

But he slowed his motions, loosening his hold on her as he pushed in deep and stilled. He stared down at the space where they were connected as he thumbed softly at the flesh of her ass. When he was buried in like that, he couldn't see the end of the condom at the base of his shaft, so it looked like he wasn't wearing one. The dirty thought trickled warm down his chest and made his cock throb before he pulled himself out.

He pulled her up and helped her turn before he positioned her flat on her back, her tits spreading softly as she looked up at him with a dazed expression. He sat back on his haunches. "Still okay?"

She nodded, a smile slowly turned her lips upward. "I'm fantastic."

"Good. Gonna pull you up like this…" He took her thighs and dragged her up so her hips were off the bed and the backs of her thighs were draped over the tops of his. "Fuck you nice and deep, work your clit til you come. How's that sound?"

"Mmm…" Y/n nodded and squeezed her tits as she bucked her hips upward. "Yes."

He grinned down at her. He loved how confident she was. How unashamed of her body she seemed to be. Liked the way she carried herself. It was sexy to see a woman happy in her own skin.

He reached down and slowly stroked her clit, eyes connected to hers to watch her expression soften and then her brows arch as she parted her lips and moaned. "Yeah?" He murmured with a grin.

"Yes… You're so good. Fuck…" she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, a soft gasp fell from her lips as he slid his fingers in circles on her clit and mushed into her swollen hood. She pushed her breasts together and arched her back before shifting her head to look back up at him. "Fuck me. Please."

"Want my cock, Y/n?" He nudged his hips forward, poking his condom-covered tip to the tight ring of muscle that would stretch nicely around him once he pushed his way back in.

"I need it," she pleaded in a breath, canting her hip toward him.

The harsh line of his brow as he took all of her in, spread out for him, was that of a man ready to devour. Y/n watched as he wrapped his long fingers around his base and shifted his pelvis, dipping his thick cock head just inside of her.

"Fffuck…" she stretched her neck and moaned as she took every inch he fed into her.

He slid deeper, taking his time as if he hadn't just been pounding into her and pushing her to her limit moments before. He moved his thumb over her bud as he went, her arousal smeared filthy on his fingers and all over her pussy lips.

Y/n shifted her sight to Harry's face, admiring his handsome features and the way his lips parted, how his muscles tensed as he rolled into her. He was enjoying her body, reveling in the way he felt inside of her. "Does it feel good? My pussy's good for you?"

"Your pussy feels incredible. Even with this fucking condom…" he laughed softly. "The kind of pussy I'd chase after and make a fool of myself for."

With their eyes connected, Y/n felt her heart ravaging behind her ribcage. She understood what he meant. Because, while she didn't think he'd made a fool of himself, he had chased after her to find her at the club. And he said that wasn't something he normally did. She was grateful he had, though.

His rough palm pushed her hand to the side so he could grope her tit. He continued working at her clit as he stuffed himself in to the brim and they both panted hot breaths as their connected bodies throbbed in unison.

He pressed down as he circled her wet bud, and the extra friction had her skin buzzing, pulsing with desire. Heat stretched over her thighs and curled viciously through her insides.

Harry slowly inched back and then pushed in deeper, his thighs flexing as he plunged wetly, gently smacking into her. A breathless sob fell from her mouth as she took him to his root over and over again.

His slow thrusts were deliberate, calculated. Every stroke of his rigid cock through her soft walls, every press of his thumb on her sensitive clit, every brush of his fingertips on her nipple had her rippling around him, trembling. The luscious stretch of her pussy around him as he drove in and dragged out made his tip leak into his condom.

Y/n began circling her hips to press harder into his thumb, using her leverage to get him deeper, to feel the biting pressure of his thumbprint. The soft, wet spread of her pussy around his shaft ached and squeezed and slushed.

His moan vibrated deep from his chest as he felt his balls tighten when he buried in and pressed himself flush to her. The shadows in her bedroom cast a moody expression over his features. He tilted his neck back, angling his face toward her ceiling as if he were in ecstasy.

And the languid thrusting suddenly turned into a heated pace. Harry's eyes darkened on hers when he looked back down at the girl he was fucking. He stroked her clit and released her breast, yanking her hip to meet his powerful thrusts. He battered her tender insides with his brutally thick column of rigid flesh. The sounds of plapping skin, her mattress springs bouncing, Harry's rhythmic grunts and groans as he drove in faded to a white noise as Y/n realized she was going to come from that, just from the expert thrust of him inside her.

She cried his name and her body shivered with every harsh plunge of his cock, the orgasm dotting white stars behind her eyes. Harry's own desperate moans were a giveaway that he was about to come just as hard.

"Fuck!"

Her body bounced and gushed as he drove in and in. The deep, ragged sounds he made were erotic, and a convulsive shudder wracked his powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. His cock jerked inside her and then he was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into her clutching cunt.

Somehow, she'd found herself lying on top of him. He'd brought them to lie back together, and her chest was pressed to his. She felt his hand on her naked back, slowly caressing her skin as their hearts began to slow and calm.

"Mmm…" Y/n smiled as she nuzzled into his chest.

His hand drew down over her ass gently. "How's this feel?"

Lifting her head to press her chin into his pec, she raised her brows. "Sore. But that's what you wanted. To show me I was a bad girl. I deserved it."

Harry pushed a breath through his nose. "You're not a bad girl. Just stubborn. But now you know better than to play games."

Y/n shifted her gaze toward the edge of the room and pushed herself up from him as Harry watched her get off her bed and traipse to her dresser. "What are you doing?"

She turned to him and lifted her phone before pressing a few buttons, and then Harry's phone rang from his pants.

"There. Now you have my number, too. We've got no excuses anymore."

He reached his hand out toward her as she walked back to her bed and curled up next to him. "You shouldn't need an excuse. If you want to see me, then that should be enough."

She placed her palm on his chest and angled her head back to look at him. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I mean it when I say that. I regretted not reaching out. I promise no more games."

"Mmm…" He ran his hand down the back of her head. "Sounds like I finally fucked some sense into you then."

Y/n laughed. "Guess I needed that, too."

"I think you did. So did I, to be honest."

"You needed some sense fucked into you?"

Harry chuckled, his handsome smile making her heart flutter as he shook his head. "No. I meant I needed to fuck some sense into you. I'm already chock full of good sense. Don't need any more."

"Can't argue with that. So what now? You gonna stay the night with me?"

"Yep. Then, tomorrow, we'll make plans for a date. A real one."

"Why not make plans now?"

"Because we're gonna do it tomorrow. Cause I said."

"What if I'm busy tomorrow?" Y/n teased and bit her lip.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" He grinned.

"Hmm… It looks like all my plans have suddenly been canceled. Guess I'm all yours."

. .

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[burytheruby]

I N A P P R O P I A T E

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which Captain Price is your father, and your eyes are set on his lieutenant.

OR: you're down bad for Ghost, and your father isn't too keen on that.

you’re in Part 1; Part 2

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: age gap, fem! reader, ooc, canon divergent tbh, little to no british slang bc i barely know american LOL. written from my phone please bear with me. also, do not get groomed, this is just fiction. WC: 1501

English is my second language, very self indulgent.

"m'gonna marry him, daddy!" Captain Price used to laugh about that, when your eight-year-old self would cling onto his arm while pointing at the twenty-one-year-old man who had just been recruited. it used to be an inside joke between the unit task, your father was oh so confident that you'd get over your childhood crush.

oh boy was he wrong.

every time without fail, when the squad would gather at your home during their leave, you'd take peeks to the living room, kitchen, or wherever they settled to talk. this ritual continued well into your pre-teenage years, right before you turned moody and too shy to even come out of your room. that's when Price thought it was over, what he didn't expect however was how you'd be so damn adamant on having Simon come over almost daily as soon as you turned eighteen. he was a seasoned captain, he wasn't oblivious to the way you'd eye his lieutenant, how you'd give him the coldest beer when it used to be reserved for him, the way you'd come every now and then and sit right across from The Ghost to "join in the conversation and catch up." nothing escaped his sharp eye, not even the way Ghost would sometimes stare your way for a little too long.

"he's emotionally unavailable, princess." he'd tell you, dropping you off for orientation day at your dream university. "he's a good lad, but he's got his own demons to fight." and he'd sigh as you slammed the car door on him. he could never deny your wishes, though, as he created a woman who was too determined—too set on her track who did not know the word defeat. but you were also just a kid—or at least that's the mental image of you in his head, a little girl with innocent thoughts who simply found his comrade to be cute.

"yer young and beautiful, m'sure those college boys are dying for ye." your father would tell you, almost begging for you to enjoy these years and experiment.

"but i don't want a boy." you would roll your eyes, having started your second year of university certainly made you into a character. you were confident—rightfully so, your beauty outshined anyone else. "i want Simon." you'd repeat like a broken record, and if it didn't make him want to strangle his lieutenant. how has time truly passed, he remembered when you'd call Simon by the name of Ghost, the name everyone used instead of his given name. but you weren't a part of the task force, there wasn't really a reason for you to call him Ghost for reason other than his signature balaclava and stitched-in mask.

you soon turned twenty, you were not a little girl anymore. his team had joined later in the evening to celebrate you, bringing you gifts and sneaked in alcohol for later when your friends would leave. it wasn't until Simon's arrival that you suddenly disappeared, but Price isn't a fool. he clutched the now empty can of beer, stopping immediately as he felt Gaz's reassuring touch on his shoulder. you were not a little girl anymore, you were a woman. he repeated in his head, no longer glancing over at the backyard door as he focused on the conversation between his comrades.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

"thank you, Simon." you smiled as he helped you put the piece of jewelry around your neck. a beautiful necklace of the metal of your liking—the one you always used when you dressed up so pretty, so dolled up. he looked at your face, his mouth in a straight line yet his eyes full of unspoken softness for you. he hummed in response, his gaze falling back down to your neck, where the necklace laid so neatly right under your collarbone, before it touched your cleavage. Simon tore his gaze away, he refused to look at you that way—not to his captain's daughter.

your smile faded as you noticed his lack of eye contact, your hand grazing his calloused one with gentleness. his eyes landed on yours once more, one hand moving the stray hair out of your face as he admired you, how you had grown to be a gorgeous woman. "we can't, love, m'way too old for ye." is what he said to you—to himself, to stop the pounding of his heart and the ache of having you so close to him. you shook your head in rebuttal, the frown of your brows making you more enticing to the man who towered over you with ease. you were determined, and he liked that about you—among the many other things that piqued his interest.

"don't care, Simon, i said i'd marry you." too determined, maybe. he scoffed at your words yet couldn't help it as the ghost of a smile appeared on his usually stoic face. "and i don't care about what old man has to say about it, i'm an adult for christ's sake." you held onto his hand, the one that laid so gently on the curve of your neck, feeling your pulse on his rough fingers. your eyes roamed from his eyes to his cheekbones, the scars on his face that added to his charm, and his slightly chapped lips that seemed to beg to close the gap between you. Simon noticed your lingering eyes, and he cursed under his breath as his fingers squeezed your neck softly.

"eyes up 'ere, love." his voice took you out of trance, eyes quickly darting back up to his as you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment at being caught. you smiled in response, your own eyes getting lost on his gaze. a deep shade of chestnut, one that conveyed a turmoil of emotions. surely, he couldn't just court his captain's daughter, it's just wrong. no matter what her sweet eyes silently pleaded for, he couldn't just give in—hell, temptation is too strong. rough digits let go of your neck, reaching down to your waist so tenderly that anyone who looked your way would know.

you couldn't help it, not when he always tried to make you happy, to give you everything you deserved, for treating you the way he just did. with a pull of his jacket, your lips clashed passionately, desperately, as if you were to disappear, like a prayer that had been heard, you clung to him with your arms around his shoulders as he held you impossibly close. you sighed between the kiss, pulling at his bottom lip playfully before you returned to the steamy friction of your lips. a want, one Simon hadn't realized how much he needed, how much he craved. you were a woman, one so, so perfect. "so gorgeous," he hummed lowly against you, letting go of reddened, puffy lips. his words sent a shiver down your spine, relishing on his words, the ones that were only for you, always you.

Simon has never been rough with you– he couldn't even imagine being so, not when you're holding onto him like a lifeline, like he's everything you've ever wanted. he doesn't complain when you bring him up to your face again, breaths mixing in the silence of the yard, so silent you have both forgotten of the people inside your home. "Simon," you gasp in a plead, a withheld plea as the backdoor opened. he pulled away from you in an instant, his hand still on your waist protectively.

"everything alright?" Price asked, and you could hear Simon curse under his breath. you just knew your father did it on purpose, he had that mischievous look on his face you had inherited, one you both used when you planned something. his eyes bore on the point of contact between you and his lieutenant, and Simon found himself forced to let go of you with a grumble. Price's eyes fell on the pendant hanging off your neck, letting out a sigh as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you.

"gorgeous pendant, hun." his eyes found their way to his lieutenant on your side, a look on his face that was no longer a warning– but rather a petition (demand, more like) to keep his treasure safe. do not break her heart. you could almost hear his thoughts, shifting under his gaze as you observed the interaction. Simon gave a curt nod, a wordless promise of affection and protection. "you should hurry, s'getting cold." Price said after a moment, giving you a smile before walking back inside.

Simon found your smile endearing, the way it reached your eyes and made your face bright. his hand returned to your side, giving a playful squeeze before making its way to the small of your back once more. "let's go inside, yeah?" he murmured against your ear, and you couldn't help but think of how neatly wrapped you had him around your finger, always getting what you want.

an unforgettable birthday.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

made an entire account just to write this. i will be doing more, trust.

[purinfelix]

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

[punkshort]

First Impressions

Thanks anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: When your heater breaks in the dead of winter, you get more than you bargained for when Joel Miller arrives to fix it.

Warnings: language, some fluff, the stress and fear that comes with living in the wilderness during a zombie apocalypse, competency kink (a little), smut (18+ MDNI), dirty talk

WC: 4.2K

Adjusting to life in Jackson was tough. You had been on your own for so long, you found it nearly impossible to ever fully relax. You were grateful Tommy and Maria took you in after one of their patrols stumbled across you freezing in the thick Wyoming wilderness, but to be yanked from the brink of death and dropped into some thriving community that seemingly even managed to still celebrate the holidays was too jarring.

So, you kept to yourself for a while. You pitched in around the stables. It was where you felt most comfortable: less people, more animals. You didn't go to the dining hall to eat and you didn't visit the bar for a drink. You had a clear cut path from your house to the stables and back, and you rarely ever strayed.

Unfortunately, while Jackson had a lot to offer and did incredibly well at reviving civilization, things still did break. Like your space heater.

You piled on extra blankets for a week, and then you moved to the living room to sleep on the tiny sofa in front of the fireplace, but eventually your back was screaming at you for it and the cold weather wouldn't let up for at least another two months, so you had no choice but to ask for help.

Tommy was shocked you hadn't said something sooner and apologized for making you feel like you couldn't ask for help, even though it wasn't at all his fault or anyone else's except your own, and promised to have his brother stop by that afternoon to take a look at it.

While you kept to yourself and hardly socialized at all, that didn't stop you from overhearing things at the stables. You knew of Tommy's brother. How people whispered rumors behind his back and fell silent whenever he stepped foot inside the building.

Did you know he slit a raider's throat and made the guy's girlfriend watch?

He beat the shit out of Seth the other night just for looking at him wrong.

Back in Boston, I heard he knocked some guy's teeth down his throat for taking the last of the beef jerky.

Someone told me he only sleeps two hours a night.

He fixed Greg's shower and told him not to fuck it up again or else he'll be taking baths in the kitchen sink.

Were you intimidated? Maybe a little. But you had been on your own for so long, fighting and scratching and clawing to stay alive. Some asshole wasn't going to shake you up.

Then you saw him.

Well, you'd seen him before, sure. But just glimpses in the barn or passing by him on the street. Never up close.

When you opened your front door later that afternoon, you were a little taken aback. He was so much more handsome than you had thought. He was built like a refrigerator; broad and strong. His cheeks and chin were dusted in a patchy, greying beard, growing right below a hooked nose and deep, velvety brown eyes. There were a few scars littering his bronzed skin but what drew your attention more was his hair. His fucking hair. Loose, mostly grey curls that fell past his ear and down the back of his neck. Not long enough to pull into a ponytail, like Tommy, but give it a few more months and he might. He had them pushed back from his face, making the silken locks look like a cascading river so enticing, you had to hold yourself back from touching them.

He said your name and readjusted the toolbox in his hand and you blinked yourself back to life before stepping aside to let him in. When he passed you, you were hit with the strong scent of wood shavings and coffee, an intoxicating combination that had your brain buffering once again.

"Tommy said you needed your heater looked at?"

You nodded and pointed up the stairs. "It's in my bedroom. Can I, uh, get you something to drink? Coffee?"

He perked up at that once he slid off his jacket and shoes. "You got coffee?"

You nodded and walked toward the kitchen, rummaging through your meager belongings until you found the precious tin can. "That's the one thing I always made sure I grabbed if I ever saw it out there. If we have to live like this, at least I'm still having my coffee."

Joel grinned and set the toolbox down on your counter, watching as you filled up a kettle with water. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was that your stupid heater broke, giving him the perfect excuse to finally meet you so he could stop pining from afar. "You don't like it much here, then?"

You startled at that, giving him a look of surprise before lighting your stove.

"No, I didn't mean here, I just meant... you know... the world in general."

"I know, I'm just teasin' you," he said a little awkwardly with a soft chuckle. You turned around, leaning against your counter and crossing your arms over your chest. You had just spoken a few words but so far, nothing about this man screamed scary. In fact, he seemed rather... sweet.

"How long have you been here?" you asked while you waited for the water to boil.

"'Bout five years," he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "You're new, though."

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting underneath your bicep. "Yeah. I think it's been almost a month. I'm not really sure, never bothered keeping track of the days out there."

Joel studied you up for a moment, picking up on your eyes shifting over your surroundings, your foot tapping anxiously on the floor, and the way you kept your back protected when you spoke to him.

"I remember when we first got here," Joel said. Your fidgeting paused and you looked at him again. "It was tough. Acclimatin' to this kind of life. Hard to sleep. Hard to trust anyone. It took time but eventually, you start sleepin' soundly again and that guard comes down. You'll see."

A slow smile spread across your face and you looked down shyly at your feet. "Am I that obvious?"

Joel laughed and strolled over to the two mugs and can of instant coffee you had sitting out. "Wouldn't say it's obvious but I haven't seen you at the dining hall one time. In fact, pretty sure this is the first time I've heard your voice." Your cheeks warmed up behind his back and you bit your lower lip. So he's noticed you enough to realize you never went to the dining hall.

"It's a pretty one," he said over his shoulder, focusing on scooping the correct amount of coffee into each mug. "Your voice, I mean. Shame you been keepin' it hidden all this time."

"O-oh," you stuttered, completely flustered by his compliments. This was not at all the man everyone made him out to be. "Thank you."

Joel carefully poured the boiling water into each mug before giving them each a stir, then handed you one. "You're welcome, darlin'. Now why don't you show me to your bedroom?"

Your eyes must have bugged out of your head because at first, he frowned, then after he realized what he said, turned a shade of pink you didn't know he was capable of.

"I mean, for the heater."

"Yeah, oh Christ, I know," you said, waving him off and heading for the stairs, your mug clutched so tightly in one hand you thought it might break. You lead Joel to the first door on the left and stepped back so he had room to swing his toolbox through the narrow door with him.

"I don't know what happened," you said, trailing in after him while he began to set out some tools on the ground. When he knelt down, he groaned at the creak in his knees and you quickly grabbed a spare pillow. "Here, kneel on this," you offered. He looked up at the pillow, then at you, and shook his head.

"I ain't kneelin' on your pillow."

"It's a spare. I only use the one. And honestly, even that seems too much sometimes."

He sighed and hesitated for only a moment longer before taking the pillow from your hand. "Thank you," he said softly. You smiled and sat down on the edge of your bed after putting your coffee on the end table with his.

"Anyway. As I was saying, I don't know what happened. It was working fine and then one day it just wouldn't turn on. I tried other outlets and I didn't see any issues with the cord, so I just gave up."

Joel began to unscrew the back of the heater while he listened. "So you gave up and slept in the cold for two weeks?"

"Nothing I wasn't used to."

He couldn't argue with that.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while he worked until he began to hum some old country song under his breath, making you smile again. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled so much.

"What're you smilin' for?" he asked with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"You aren't at all the way people say you are," you said boldly.

He quirked an eyebrow and turned his attention back to his work. "And what have you heard?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Threatened a man after breaking his shower. Knocked out some guy named Seth. That you only sleep two hours a night," you chuckled at the last one when you heard how silly it sounded.

"Well," Joel said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't threaten anyone about their shower. Just reminded him he's gotta take care of the pipes or else the whole place'll rot."

You grinned to yourself as he continued to explain the rumors.

"I did punch Seth but he said somethin' real nasty 'bout my girl and, well, that just don't sit right with me."

Your grin slid right off your face. "Your girl?"

He stopped what he was doing and swiveled around to face you. "My - Ellie. Her name's Ellie. She's, uh, well... she ain't my daughter, but..."

Relief flooded your veins. "Oh. I thought you meant -"

"No, no," Joel said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "No, not like that." He twirled a wrench around in between his fingers as he nervously bit the inside of his cheek before adding, "Don't got anyone like that."

Your mouth formed a silent oh. Message received.

Joel cleared his throat again and turned back to the heater. "And the sleep thing, well, they got me there," he chuckled with a shake of his head. "Although some nights are better than others."

"I know what you mean," you said with a nod. After a moment of silence, Joel smiled to himself.

"Imagine y'do if you ain't got any heat at night."

You giggled and he smiled again, this time his chest swelling when he heard you laugh.

Joel continued to work on the heater while you studied him quietly. He took you by complete surprise. The last thing you expected was to make a friend out of the fearsome Joel Miller. It didn't hurt that he was so easy on the eyes, either. How old was he? Your gaze roamed over his greying hair and the crinkles next to his eyes. Older than you, definitely, but it was hard to tell by how much.

You couldn't even remember the last time you were interested in anyone. It must have been when you were in the Atlanta QZ, and that was years ago.

"Alright, let's give her a run," Joel suddenly said. When you refocused on him, you saw he had put the heater back together and was fixing it upright. He plugged it into the wall and hovered his finger over the power button before glancing back at you. "Ready?"

You nodded and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of your bed, then he winked at you, sending warmth all over your body. Jesus, if Joel kept giving you little looks like that, you wouldn't have much need for a heater anymore.

He pressed the button and sure enough, the coils inside the heater began to glow orange and heat started to fill the room.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, jumping off the bed in excitement. "Thank you!" you added, kneeling on the floor as well so you could warm your hands in front of the heater.

"Anytime," Joel murmured, and it wasn't until you heard the deep timber of his voice next to you that you realized he was so close. You tilted your face, smiling shyly at him next to you. Up close, you could see the fine lines in his face in much more detail, each one calling out to you to trace with your fingertip. When you met his gaze, you found he had been examining you, as well. Quickly, you looked away and stood up.

"Is there anythin' else?" Joel asked as he began to pack up his toolbox. You shook your head.

"No, I think that'll do it."

"You sure? Thought I saw that faucet drippin' in the kitchen."

You frowned. "No, I didn't notice that," you said slowly.

"What 'bout those windows?" he asked, standing up with a grunt and gesturing to the two bedroom windows on the other side of the room. "Need help hangin' curtains?"

You looked where he was pointing. "No, never really bothered me. Besides, it faces the backyard. No one can see in."

He laughed softly and rubbed his chin before shooting you a sheepish look. "I'm tryin' to find a reason to stay, sweetheart."

Your eyes widened and once again, you felt your cheeks heat up.

"Oh," you said, shyly dropping your gaze to the floor to hide your smile. "I would like that."

"Yeah?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah. You're, um," you shifted your weight nervously, "you're sweet. And nice."

Joel huffed and set his toolbox back down. "I ain't nice all the time," he warned. "But you ain't gotta worry 'bout that."

"No?" you questioned, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he began to close the distance between you.

He sighed and cupped your face with both hands. Your body instantly melted at his touch, your knees practically giving out when he dragged his thumb across your lip, saving it from your teeth. "Am I readin' this wrong?" he asked, his eyes darting all over your face. You quickly shook your head and stepped even closer.

"Thank Christ," he breathed before capturing your lips in a deep kiss. It had been several years and you were a little rusty, but you quickly found it was like riding a bike.

Joel's kiss lit a fire in you, one that had gone dormant for so long. Your fingers curled around the lapels of his flannel, the material warm and soft, just like him, and with the confidence boost that came from his hands dropping to grab excitedly at your hips, you walked him backwards until he bumped against the edge of your mattress.

He sat down on your bed with an oomph and you crawled into his lap, not once breaking the kiss.

"Wish I got to know you sooner," he whispered, tipping his head back when your lips traveled down his neck. Fuck, even his neck was sexy. "Always so skittish and shy," he continued, his palms gliding up and down your back.

You laughed softly against his skin and leaned back. "You still don't really know me."

He grinned and shrugged. "I'd like to, if you're willin'," he said, his vulnerability making your chest ache. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip again and nodded.

"Good," he said, his hands roaming further past your waist to cup your ass. "'Cause I like what I know so far."

"You're full of surprises," you told him, giggling when he gave your ass a firm squeeze. "You're so much more... you're more gentle and sweet than I expected."

Joel smirked and tugged you closer so you felt his erection trapped within his jeans. "I can be gentle," he told you, nipping at your jaw. "Or I can be rough. Whatever you like."

You swallowed when you caught the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm," he said, and before you could blink he had spun you around so your back was pressed into the mattress while he hovered above you. You had to admit, he was adorable. He had to be pushing sixty but he was talking like a man half his age. After you heard the way his knees creaked when he was fixing your heater, you figured he was all talk, or maybe he just needed the ego boost to hype himself up.

But the speed in which he removed your clothes should have been the first sign that your impression of him was wrong. When he buried himself inside you, his surprisingly thick length stretching you open and nudging the furthest depths of you, you got the message.

When you gasped and tipped your head back, his big hand immediately rose to cup the side of your face and tilt it back down so he could watch your face as you unraveled beneath him. Each little noise and moan seemed to egg him on, like he fed off your sounds and the way your face twisted in pleasure when his coarse hair rubbed against your clit with each roll of his hips.

"Wanna see you," he explained, eyes scanning all over your face. "Wanna watch you take it. You'll keep your eyes on me, won't you? Hm? You'll be good for me, yeah?"

You nodded, your mind a muddled mess. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the slow and deliberate drag of his heavy cock in and out of you. Joel pressed your knees back against your chest as far as you could handle and pushed inside you further with a rough grunt. He managed to get so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach and the sensation left you breathless.

"So fuckin' pretty, y'know that?" he groaned, gazing down at you without breaking rhythm. His long locks loosened and hung past his eyes, tempting you to smooth them back. "Wanted to get to know you f'so long but I couldn't ever catch your eye," he admitted with a little smirk. You moaned when his hips began to swirl, switching the angle ever so slightly and setting your nerves alight.

"I-I... oh, god," you whined, already struggling to keep your eyes on him like he asked. "I didn't know."

He lunged forward and crashed his mouth against yours hungrily, his exhale fanning over your cheek. Then just as suddenly as he kissed you, he leaned back and pulled out.

"Turn over," he instructed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he dragged in air. You did as you were told and shakily held yourself up on your hands and knees.

"Fuck," he muttered behind you. Your face went hot and you tucked your chin into your shoulder as you waited for him to enter you again, but he chose to take an extra minute to glide his hand over the curves of your hips and ass. If you had been able to see him, you would have seen a look of awe and appreciation on his face.

"Always wondered what you had hidden under all those clothes," he said as he lined himself up at your entrance. You cried out his name when he finally slid back inside, the angle already too intense and he hadn't even begun to move. "Goddamn, wanna run my tongue over every fuckin' inch of you, baby," he growled, fingers gripping your sides as he tried to ground himself.

He gave you a few gentle thrusts to get used to it before he couldn't hold back any longer. He pounded into you, his eyes fixed on your ass and the way it bounced with every snap of his hips. One hand slowly reached down to trace your spine, marveling at the way your body welcomed him. Then you arched your back and you both moaned at the slight change and he could feel his stomach begin to tense in anticipation of his release.

"So fuckin' tight," he said through clenched teeth. You could hear him breathing heavily as his thrusts grew sloppy and you began to panic, sensing he was about to come before you were ready. But then as if he read your mind, one of his hands snaked around your front to draw fast circles over your clit.

"C'mon, give it t'me," he said with a grunt. "Wanna feel this perfect pussy squeeze me, want you to be feelin' me for fuckin' days, sweetheart."

"Oh, shit," you gasped, mouth hanging open in a mixture of ecstasy and surprise. You wondered how on earth everyone in town had so much to say about Joel's reputation but somehow managed to leave out how mind-blowing he happened to be in bed.

"Christ, honey. Ain't gonna last much longer," he groaned, his fingers working even faster between your legs. He pounded into you harder, punching the air from your lungs and pushing you closer and closer to your peak. Your breaths were coming in shallow pants and you could feel the swell building deep inside you, threatening to unleash at any second. You reached behind you frantically, searching for some part of him to hold onto when you found his hand pressed firmly onto your hip. Your fingers clasped over his as you felt the pressure build up quickly and you knew in that moment this one encounter was going to single-handedly ruin you.

The moment you fell apart while practically screaming his name, your cunt pulsing around him and your body shaking, he almost made a huge mistake. Finally getting to witness what you looked like when you came was more than enough, but hearing his name over and over while your body shook with pleasure? It was too much and he was only just a man who was holding on by his goddamn fingernails as it was. But fortunately, he managed to pull out just in time to paint your lower back with his cum. He knew he was making some ungodly sounds as relief flooded his veins, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He had been daydreaming about taking you apart like that for weeks and now that he finally had you, there was no turning back.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped, lifting his chin towards the ceiling while dragging in deep lungfuls of air. You collapsed flat onto your stomach with a grunt and he tilted his face back down to grin as how spent you looked.

Still got it.

"I'll be right back, darlin'," he told you. You mumbled something tiredly in response before he slipped out of your room to get a washcloth from your bathroom and returned quickly to clean you up.

"Thank you," you said, turning your face so you could watch him gently wipe up his mess. His eyes flickered to yours and he smirked.

"You thankin' me for fixin' the heater, for fuckin' you, or for cleanin' you up?"

You giggled, your voice a little hoarse when you replied, "All of the above."

You flipped over onto your back and his eyes immediately drifted down your naked body, his breath catching in the back of his throat at how perfect you were. Even better than he ever imagined.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, letting the rag fall to the floor so he could glide his hand up your thigh, over your hips and stomach to one of your breasts which, he realized far too late, had gone neglected. Next time.

"So are you," you whispered back, bringing a hand up to play with the long curls resting on the back of his neck. He shook his head shyly and looked away.

"I need a haircut."

"I like it just the way it is," you told him, twisting a lock of hair around one finger and watching as it loosely bounced back when you let it go. "Gives me something to grab onto," you joked. A wide smile stretched across his face and his eyes looked like he was staring at the tree on Christmas morning.

"So, uh," Joel began when the silence stretched on for too long. "I meant it earlier. 'Bout gettin' to know you better." He couldn't remember the last time he felt so nervous. He could feel his face heating up and he prayed you didn't notice. "I know you don't like goin' to the dining hall but I'd really like to have dinner with you. I can't make much but I can make stew, if y'wanna-"

"I would go to the dining hall with you," you said, cutting him off. His eyes snapped back up to yours and he shot you a nervous smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you said with a little shrug before sitting up and draping your arms around his shoulders. "As long as you're there, I'll go."

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss you, still in complete disbelief his wildest fantasy actually came true.

"How 'bout tomorrow, then?" he asked a little breathlessly when he broke the kiss.

Your eyes lit up and you nodded. "It's a date."

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[chuluoyi]

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre/warnings: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

[ssa-dado]

I could totally see Aaron being jealous. Maybe a oneshot of her meeting Sean Hotchner for the first time.

Covering Up - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff Summary: You’re late, and while Gideon’s passive-aggressive remarks are expected, it’s Hotch who really has you on edge. But it’s not just his authority; it’s the way you inadvertently caught the attention of Hotch’s brother, Sean. Warnings: None, just wanted to clarify the story is set around late 1998 or early 1999, before Hotch became Unit Chief (Gideon was in charge instead). Word Count: 3k Dado's Corner: You didn't see this coming, did you? Something cute to celebrate the end of the year. Sorry it took so much to respond, I totally forgot about this ask... hope you like itttttt. Again, HOTCH IN LOOOOOOOVE but doesn't want to admit hahaha what a fool.

masterlist

You were late today. Remarkably late.

For the first time ever in your life.

And while the idea of Gideon giving you one of his passive-aggressive “I’m not mad, just disappointed” speeches wasn’t exactly fun, there was one person who truly terrified you in this situation.

Hotch.

How ironic: it wasn’t your boss you were afraid of - it was your fussy coworker. The same coworker whose desk, unfortunately, happened to sit right in front of yours.

Perfect.

You were still trying to salvage your dignity in the elevator, jabbing at the elevator button, fumbling with your hair as the doors closed. Maybe an updo would make you look less… late. But by the time you reached your floor, the mess you’d made felt more “distressed damsel” than “competent federal agent.”

So, naturally, you made the split-second decision to undo the whole thing, pulling your hair loose halfway to your desk.

You winced.

Not because anyone was watching - everyone seemed too absorbed in their own work - but because if someone had been looking, you’d have perfectly executed that clichéd, overly dramatic hair flip straight out of a low-budget action movie.

The kind made by men, for men.

The ones where the femme fatale struts into the room, stiletto heels clicking, hair whipping in slow motion, cleavage doing all the talking, her entire existence engineered for the male gaze.

And here you were. No stilettos. No slow motion. Just… the hair flip.

Fantastic.

You shook it off, hoping to slink to your desk unnoticed, now more focused to brace yourself for the silent judgement of-

A man.

Not the man you expected - Hotch.

An actual man, a somehow handsome man.

Oh God. He’d definitely seen you do the dramatic hair flip.

His smirk confirmed it - no need for a profiler to figure that one out.

A man, sitting comfortably in Hotch’s chair. And, notably, no Hotch in sight.

“Are you here for a consultation with Agent Hotchner?” you asked, doing your best to sound at least professional as you set your bag down.

He chuckled – like you were the punchline of some inside joke you weren’t in on. “Actually, yes.”

Though you couldn’t help but study him... it was in your nature afterall.

He was about Hotch’s height, blond, blue-eyed, and generically good-looking in a way that probably gave him the nerve to sit at an agent’s desk without any kind of second thought.

But what really stood out? He looked about your age.

Very early twenties - which, mathematically speaking, made him way too young to be here asking for a consultation.

Not that you were one to talk. You were constantly reminded you were “too young” to be working for the FBI. So, at least you had that in common.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he read from your badge, dragging out the syllables for some of his twisted reasons you chose to ignore. Then he smirked. “You’re young.”

“She is.” Hotch’s voice cut through the air before you could form a response, making you startle slightly. He was suddenly there, right behind you, like he’d materialized out of thin air.

“Sean,” he said, his tone clipped in that uniquely Hotch way that made you feel guilty even if you’d done nothing wrong, “I told you to wait for me outside.”

“And why are you so late?” Hotch added, his focus snapping to you with laser precision, his brows drawing together in that way that made your stomach twist in both irritation and… something else.

Classic Aaron Hotchner.

Two seconds on the scene, already cataloging what annoyed him. Efficiency at its finest.

“Damn, Aaron, relax. It’s barely been a minute,” Sean said, standing up finally, though not without flinching slightly under the weight of Hotch’s glare.

He stepped closer to you, extending a hand like he wasn’t about to be vaporized by the man’s disapproval. “I’m Sean, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

Before you could decide whether to shake his hand or politely tell him to run for cover, Hotch’s voice sliced through the air, as sharp and unyielding as ever. “No, you haven’t. Y/N, this is Sean, my brother. Sean, this is Agent Y/L/N, my partner.”

It took approximately two seconds after those words left his mouth for Hotch to realize he’d made not one but two rookie mistakes.

The first? The fact that, for some reason, you got to be “Y/N” while Sean - his brother - was firmly stuck with Agent Y/L/N.

A seemingly innocuous choice, but an interesting one.

Almost as if Hotch didn’t want Sean to forget who you were. Or worse, as if he wanted to keep that small, intimate privilege - using your first name - exclusively for himself.

And why?

Perhaps because, whether he admitted it or not, you’d managed to take up residence in his overworked brain. You weren’t just his colleague - you were his very own walking, talking paradox.

Equal parts intellect and quick wit, you could quote anything from your beloved dead philosophers as easily as you could dismantle someone’s argument with a single sarcastic comment.

You lingered, persistently, in his thoughts - too vividly, too often - so much so that you’d even started showing up in his dreams.

That might explain why his tongue betrayed him now - a slip you would undoubtedly label as ‘textbook Freudian.’

Somehow, through the cracks in the armor of the man who prided himself on control and precision, a truth he had no business acknowledging had leaked out.

Because, inexplicably and irreversibly, he’d just let his younger brother - of all people - catch the faintest glimpse of something he refused to admit even to himself: that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you.

Not that Sean picked up on it - yet.

No, Sean’s focus was already drifting toward his second mistake, the one Hotch really hoped would keep Sean too distracted to notice the first. And, to Hotch’s silent horror, it worked like a charm.

“Partner?” Sean repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are the two of you…?” He let the insinuation hang, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

Because here’s the thing - thanks to the way Hotch had worded it, Sean wasn’t just thinking that his big brother was casually sleeping with you. Oh no, this was way bigger.

This was Sean, standing here wide-eyed and completely convinced that his older, emotionally constipated, miserably single brother - who’d spent years brooding after his breakup Haley - had somehow not only managed to get a girlfriend but had kept it a secret.

And worse? That this whole scenario meant Hotch was maybe, just maybe, a little happy these days.

That alone was enough to blow Sean’s mind.

But before his imagination could run too far, you stepped in, your voice sharp and immediate. “God, no,” you blurted, practically recoiling from the suggestion.

“No,” Hotch said at the same time, though in stark contrast to your reaction, his was flat and unbothered.

Sean chuckled at your synchronized denial, which only prompted Hotch to fix you with one of his looks - the kind that felt like it could peel layers off your soul. Judgy, silent, but impossibly loud at the same time.

The kind of look that made you curious.

“Was he like this as a kid,” you asked Sean, “or was he ever actually a normal person?”

Sean’s smirk widened. “The only difference between then and now is that now they pay him to act like this.”

You laughed, loud and genuine, and Sean joined in - a perfect snapshot of solidarity between two survivors of Hotch’s relentless Hotch-ness. “Though I have to wonder… maybe he misunderstood the government’s contributions as a green light to act this way. It’s kind of like when you teach a dog to stand on two legs for a treat, and then he just keeps doing it.” You commented.

You and Sean burst into laughter, your voices echoing through the bullpen, while Hotch just stood there.

Watching. Seething.

But not entirely for the reasons he’d expect.

Sure, he was irritated that you had the audacity to make fun of him within perfect earshot - a clear, deliberate payback for all the grief and micromanagement he’d put you through.

But there was something deeper beneath his discomfort, something far more unsettling.

It wasn’t just that you were laughing at him - it was that you were laughing with Sean.

That easy, effortless kind of laughter, the kind he so rarely managed to coax out of you. Sean, his little brother, was already pulling it out of you like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like he’d cracked some code Hotch didn’t even know existed.

And that stung. More than it should’ve.

Because as much as he told himself it was ridiculous - childish, even - he couldn’t shake the flicker of jealousy curling in his chest.

A low, unwelcome burn.

It wasn’t just about the laughter. It was the way you looked at Sean. The way you seemed curious, intrigued by him in a way that made Hotch feel like an outsider in his own space. Like he was standing just outside the circle, close enough to see but not close enough to touch.

And he hated that.

He hated how much it bothered him.

Hated that he cared at all.

Hated the fact that, for all his discipline and carefully crafted walls, you always managed to slip through the cracks.

Unnoticed until it was too late.

Though you weren’t quite as unnoticed by everyone else.

Standing on the mezzanine, there was Gideon, watching you with that unshakeable calm of his. His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could even catch your breath, he called you over to his office.

It was probably for showing up two full hours late, but who could say?

Panic was all over you, though you were certain you kept it well-hidden - at least, you hoped so.

But before you could second-guess yourself, Hotch, who had been silently observing everything, grabbed a file from his desk and walked toward you at a precise angle that turned his back to Gideon.

Then, in a blur of words, he started speaking faster than you thought possible.

“I covered for you,” he said, voice low and hurried. “Tell him you went to see your mom yesterday. You took the 5:07 a.m. train. It broke down in Baltimore - stuck for an hour and forty-two minutes. That’s why you’re late. It’s all fact checked. If he asks - and he probably won’t - you don’t have the ticket because after a 90-minute delay, the company offers a full reimbursement if you send in the original.”

Before you could process what he was saying, he thrust the file into your hands.

“I filled out all the interrogatory statements for the Arlington case. If he asks why I had them, say I’m an idiot and that you cracked the unsub before I did, so the paperwork fell to me.” His dark eyes bore into yours, and for the first time since you’d met him, he sounded almost…desperate. “Don’t panic.”

Your brain short-circuited. The only thing you managed was a breathless, “Thanks.”

He watched you go, tracking every step you took until you disappeared into Gideon’s office. His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his side like he was bracing himself to pull you out of trouble if it came to that.

Though Sean, ever the opportunist, broke the silence. “Since when do you cover for people?” he asked.

Hotch didn’t bother looking at him, his focus firmly fixed on the files in his hands, though his grip had tightened ever so slightly. “Since her boss called her in for something unfair. She’s the first - well, second - person to arrive every day and the last to leave. She works harder than anyone here, including me, and she never complains about it. It’s not fair to punish her for being late once when she’s the one who picks up everyone else’s slack. This is a one-time thing, and frankly, it’s probably for the best - at least she got some sleep for once.”

Was that an over-articulated answer to what was likely more of an exclamation than an actual question? Yes. But better to be thorough than shallow - or at least, that’s what Hotch told himself.

Sean, on the other hand, had no qualms about being a bit shallow.

“You’re sure that’s the reason she was late?” Sean asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Not because she, you know…” He trailed off, tilting his head, the mischievous grin practically begging Hotch to take the bait.

No. Of course not.

Not that there would’ve been anything wrong with it. Not because he wanted to come off as paternalistic or prudish about it.

Hell, if you really did, he hoped it was… fine.

Great, even.

But then, there was that annoying, traitorous part of him whispering - shouting, really - that he hoped it wasn’t too good.

Or serious.

Or anything worth bringing up more than once.

Damn it, Hotchner, could he not just be a normal, well-adjusted adult and be happy for someone else’s happiness without making it weird? Apparently not.

Still, he needed to give an actual response. Out of the 600,000 words available in the English language, what did he choose? The most original, expressive, and earth-shattering one of all: “No.”

Of course, it probably came out sounding way too sharp, betraying every tightly-coiled emotion he was trying to keep hidden.

Luckily - or unluckily - Sean was too busy zeroing in on something else to even notice.

“So,” Sean began, dragging out the word, “she’s single.”

…it wasn’t even a question.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, his patience already wearing thin. “Yes.” He admitted. “But don’t think about it.” He stopped him, already knowing where this conversation would eventually go.

“Why not?” Sean asked, his smirk practically carved into his face now. “You like her?” The teasing lilt in his voice was impossible to miss, but beneath it, there was a flicker of genuine curiosity.

Yes. Absolutely.

More than liked.

Liked in a way that he thought about you far too often, in places he shouldn’t, and at times he didn’t have the luxury of indulging.

Liked in a way that made him occasionally catch himself smiling in the middle of a meeting because some stray thought of you had slipped past his defenses.

Liked in a way that he imagined you during his early-morning runs, wondering if you’d find the sunrise as breathtaking as he did - or if you’d roll your eyes at his choice of music.

You probably would, because it was either the original cast recording of whatever Broadway musical he’d recently become obsessed with, or something from The Beatles.

Not just their classics, but the deeper cuts - the kind his mom had played on repeat during her own Beatlemania phase back in the ’60s, which was, admittedly, a phenomenon he’d inherited in his own way.

He liked you in a way that felt ridiculous, really.

Like the time he caught himself wondering if you’d like the tie he was wearing, not that he’d ever admit he chose it with you in mind.

Or when he stayed up too late re-reading one of your old case reports, pretending it was for work when it was really just to admire how sharp and thoughtful your insights were.

But admitting that? Out loud?

To Sean, of all people?

He’d rather reorganize the mountain of case files sitting on your desk alphabetically and chronologically - twice.

“No,” Hotch said instead, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. “I work with her, Sean.”

Sean wasn’t one to let things go easily - especially when he sensed he was onto something. “Okay, so you work with her,” he said, dragging out the words like they were some kind of weak excuse. “But that doesn’t explain why I can’t take a shot. What’s stopping me?”

Hotch’s jaw clenched as he shifted his attention back to the windows of Gideon’s office. He didn’t want to say it, but he also didn’t trust his brother to let the subject drop without some kind of deflection. “You’re not her type,” he said flatly.

Sean blinked, caught off guard for a moment before recovering with an incredulous laugh. “Not her type? How do you know what her type is?”

Hotch didn’t respond right away.

He didn’t need to.

The deadpan look he shot Sean over his shoulder was enough to say ‘I know her type because I know her’.

Sean, however, wasn’t deterred. “Okay, genius, enlighten me. What exactly is her type, then? Because I’m charming, good-looking, and - let’s not forget - single.” He motioned to himself like he was presenting the world’s greatest catch.

Hotch sighed. “Her type,” he began almost whispering, now suddenly afraid that someone would hear him, “is someone more serious. Someone who knows how to respect her work ethic, her intelligence, and the fact that she’s earned her place here. Someone who doesn’t think he can waltz in and-” He cut himself off, realizing he was veering dangerously close to sounding personal.

Too personal.

Too bad he stopped talking before he could drop the one crucial piece of information Sean probably needed to know: as far as Hotch knew, you only dated older... much older.

And him being the same age as you? Yeah, that definitely didn’t work in his favor.

Sean tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So… basically, someone who isn’t me. But someone who is… maybe a little more like you?” He watched the way Hotch’s shoulders stiffened at the suggestion.

Hotch turned fully to face his brother, his expression dark. “Sean,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.

But Sean wasn’t fazed. “I’m just saying, Aaron. You’re standing here, going on about how she deserves someone serious and respectful and all that, but you’re practically describing yourself. So maybe the reason you don’t want me going after her is because-”

“That’s enough,” Hotch interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut through any further teasing. “It’s not appropriate, and it’s not happening. End of discussion.”

Sean held up his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk stayed firmly in place. “Alright, alright. But for the record, you didn’t deny it.”

Hotch didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he turned back toward the windows of Gideon’s office, his gaze locking on your profile once more.

Sean followed his brother’s line of sight, leaning closer “She really does have you all twisted up, doesn’t she?”

Hotch ignored him.

But as much as he wanted to pretend Sean was wrong, the burn in his chest told him otherwise.

Because 'twisted up' was probably an understatement for what you were doing to him.

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[renren-006]

Familiar Eyes | Lucius Verus x fem reader

plot: eyes will look familiar when they belong to your best friend.

a/n: ahhh im obsesed!! I can't stop watching edits of Paul Mescal!!! I just had to write something for him. I also have another story idea I'm playing with for him as well! Let me know if you have any ideas for more Lucius stories!!

Word count: 2136

You sat in the emperor's box, watching the gladiators in the pits with curious eyes. Geta and Callicalla both sat in front of you, turning to see your expression every once in a while. They were both playing the game of waiting for you to grow yourself at them. You were playing the game of waiting till their deaths to celebrate. You wanted nothing to do with either emperor. You only wanted to sit and watch till it was time for you to take your leave. Lucille cast you a look of subtle remorse for the role you were thrown into, and you returned it with a small smile. You had known the woman for so many years, when you were younger you were her son's favorite friend. Lucius’s disappearance cast a hole in your heart and soul that could never be filled by anyone; your love for him lasted all these years and forever will. 

Your eyes again focused on the arena, already cleared of bodies and resetting for the next fight. The announcer's loud voice boomed through the Coliseum, causing an uproar from the spectators. Awaiting the next game was always torture, anticipating who or what would fight. 

When those doors opened and out came the group of gladiators, but one, in particular, fought your eye. A man with brown hair and the bluest eyes caught your attention. When he made eye contact, a sense of familiarity warmed your heart. He looked away almost as fast, leaning down to grab at the sandy gravel. You remember from your youth a particular gladiator used to do the same.

 It couldn’t be him, could it? 

The question swarmed your mind as you watched the man before you fight. It was mesmerizing watching him move around the arena; it was an art. How he moved around the arena reminded you of the boy you used to watch play “gladiator” with his guards. He would always have you watch and clap when he had won, always smiling brightly when you sang him praise. As you watched him, the realization shone through your eyes; Lucius was the gladiator. You wanted to scream, to run into that pit and throw your arms over that boy you loved and thought lost. You looked to Lucilla whose face was unreadable and calculating, she too was watching Lucius. When the game was over, and he and a few of his men won, you knew you had to wait and be careful before you ran to see him. 

It wasn't until late in the evening when you rode our horse over with one of your guards and snuck inside the gladiator's cells and training grounds. You watched some of the men in the late hours training, and a few stopped and stared as you passed through the halls through the cell you were told Lucius was in. As the door opened, you saw the man sitting facing away from you. 

“To go from the boy who played gladiator with his guards to being one in the Collosiem is quite a jump,” you said, causing Lucius to slowly turn, “or have I mistaken you for my best friend?”

“You have the wrong person,” he said; the hurt look in his eyes told you enough. The man in front of you was not him, not anymore. Lucius was a diffrent person. 

“Ah. Seems I am wrong,” you said, stepping back and slowly turning to be able to tell the guards to let you out. A hand came up and took your wrist lightly. You jumped slightly. 

“Your best friend…the one you thought I was…why did you think I was him?” he asked. 

“When I looked in your eyes, you made me feel like I was looking at him. My heart felt whole again.” you told him, “Sorry to have bothered you, gladiator.” His hold on you loosened, and your hand slipped out when you left his cell. You didn't turn to see if he was still watching, but the feeling you got told you he was.

The next time you saw Lucius was the next round of gladiator fights he was to partake in. Another group battle was to commence. Watching Lucius, you could see there was a fire in him today. He glanced at at the box to see you, you tried your best to hide your gaze but it failed. Lucius gritted his teeth and looked back to fight. 

“Seems that Gladiator has an attitude today,” spoke Geta, “I hope it foils his game”

“I hope he proves you wrong,” you said. Geta's eyes met yours, and fury was in them. His face folded into anger. 

“How dare you speak to me that way. We have done you favors, making you a woman of high status,” Geta said, “Would you like that to be changed?” “It seems I spoke without thinking; truly, I am at your mercy,” you spoke, bowing your head toward the emperor. You knew your mouth would get you in trouble one day. These emperors tested you constantly, and the game you played was tiresome. Geta and Callicalla expected things from you, but you never gave in. Their feelings of annoyance were always made clear to you about this affair. 

“Sit,” he spoke. “We shall not rid you of your status today,” Calicalla said from his chair. The man was relaxed in his chair with that pet monkey he loved. Geta sat down, letting the words of his brother flow over him. You bowed your head again before looking back towards the fight. Lucius caught your eye. He had seen the spectacle. A small smirk appeared on his face, one matching that same boy from the courtyard. You smiled slightly, this boy has a history untold to you making him difficult to understand. You were desperate to understand. 

You revisited him a few nights after his battle. He was waiting for you this time. Lucius sat on his bed, watching the door with intensity. When you entered, it was clear he wanted you there. 

“I was waiting for you to come,” he told you. 

“I can see that. I tried to come sooner, but…had to play the role I am stuck in,” you told him. He scooted over in his bed. You took that as an invitation to sit next to him. Your blue dress flowed around you as you did. 

“I see,” he said. You both sat in silence. Lucius nervously played with his hands, something he never grew out of. 

“I have to know; you are Lucius, right?” You asked him, eyeing him hopefully. Lucius nodded. 

“I am”

“Why lie to me?”

“I am not the same boy you knew, y/n,” He told you. You laughed a bit and smiled at him.

“You think I would care if you were? You were gone for almost 20 years, Lucius. I should not expect you to be the same. I know I am not”

“You are a woman of status now,” he said. You nodded your head.

“Underneath, I am still the same,” you told him. “I hate this role I was shoved into”

“What happened when I left?” he asked you. 

“Rome was in disarray for so long, they still are. No one truly likes the emperors, and they are too blind to see the hate people have for them.” You told him, “I was still working in the palace when they came into power. For some reason, they wanted me, so they gave me a higher status, a ploy for me to…marry one of them,” you spoke slowly, looking up a few times. Lucious had his hands in his lap, fiddling. It was enough for Lucious to understand that there was a game at play with the gladiators and in Rome.

“Have you?”

“No” you spoke fast, meeting Lucius eyes. 

“The emperors are not happy about that.” The open-endedness of his statement answered itself. Lucius had always been a smart boy. Even when his uncle played emperor in his palace, he could see through it all. Rome had always been home to a game, not the gladiatorial games, which was worse. 

Lucius started calling on you throughout the week. You would enter the gladiator's home and walk with him, watch him train, or even sit with him and talk. You knew these meetings would get to the emperors sooner or later, and with what was conspiring behind closed doors, you knew it was sooner. Lucius was informed by his mother of the plan she and Acacius were planning. He didn't particularly like the man, but seeing how happy her mother was with him, he let his hatred die. He never would tell you that a part of him was also less hateful because he had found you again. 

It became apparent the word of your meetings had spread to the emperor's ears. The tretory of your betrayal to the emperor's hearts while the tretory of two others came to light the same night. You stood in their halls in your evening gown, feeling as though you wore nothing. Acacius and Lucilla stood in the halls, too. 

“You have betrayed your emperors,” Geta yelled, “You have betrayed our hearts,” He yelled at you as he grabbed your hair. A shrill cry left your mouth. “Do you love this gladiator? Hm? Should I make a show of his death for you”

“No! Please!” you spoke. Geta sparked a plan brewing.

“When I make a show of your treasuries, I shall put this…whore…on display as well. Show these gladiators never to mess with what is mine” 

You stood on the balcony with the emperors, your hands bound, and a giant bruise was forming on your cheek. They had not done too much, but the show of your night clothes, a bruise, and unkept hair was enough for the people of Rome to know something had happened. Next to you stood Lucilla, a similar unkept state about her. 

“Today! We have some traitors in our mist!” In the pits was Acacius. You watched as he fought and as Lucius entered the pits. He saw his mother, and he saw you. When you made eye contact, Geta grabbed your face.

 “In horror of the betrayal of Acacius and the lover to my betrothed. Fight to the death.” Lucius was furious and wanted revenge on Acacius for his actions in Numdia. You watched as they fought; he was angry.

“Do you see now why you should have kept your promise” Calliclla spoke. You looked at him with hatred in your eyes.

“I will never be with you or your brother,” You told him. The slap rang in your ears and turned the heads of others. Lucius and Acacius both stopped and looked at the emperor's box. Lucius stepped twords the box.

“No,” you said to him; Callicalla didn't like this. He took your face in his hands and made you look at him. You wished your life at come to this moment. 

“Let her go” Lucius yelled twords the box. 

“Back to your game, gladiator. Kill the general, and all will end for today,” Geta told him. When Lucius refused to end the general's life, his was taken anyway. You watched as the crowd took uproar at the action. A small smirk played on your lips.

“You think my hate for you is small,” you told Callicalla. “Try Romes hate.” You were let go when the mob started their terror in the stands. The Romans disrupted so much that you managed to be forgotten about and were released. You ran down to the gladiators, many letting you pass so you could get to Lucius. He turned in the hallway as he heard your footsteps. When you saw him face you, he started walking towards you, picking you up in his arms and holding you tight. 

“I will never let you go again” He spoke softly to you.

When all was done in Rome, you could finally rest. Sleep came easy to you next to Lucius in his mother's home. A new room and bed to accommodate the older prince. You were brought to his home and welcomed warmly by the others. You were no longer the mistress of the emperors but the wife of the Prince of Rome, your true love. You lay next to him, watching the stars through the window. 

“Awake are we?” Lucius asked. 

“How am I to sleep when you are here, home, next to me,” you spoke to him, smiling. Lucus met the smile with a kiss.

“Sleep my love,” he told you, “I will be here when you wake”

[bluetimeombre]

: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to

You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.

[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others

yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!

809k likes. 304k comments

user: wait, you're in wonka?!

user: I LOVE YOU!!

user: mother giving us content, as always

tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me

yourusername: no

tchalamet: pls!!!

user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?

user: slayyyy

user: isn't wonka supposed to suck

tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see

yourusername: girls got to earn a living

tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow

user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!

user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us

wonkamovie: 😍😍

balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'

'I need your help.'

'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.

'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'

you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.

'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.

'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'

you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.

'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.

you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.

you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.

timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.

'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'

'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.

'you killed it,' you assure, casually.

'thank you,' he smiled.

'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.

'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'

you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.

'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'

you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'

'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'

ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.

'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.

he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'

'thanks man.'

'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.

timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.

'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'

'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.

'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.

you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'

'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.

'i do love london,' you agreed.

'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.

they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others

tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes, 609k comments

user: he posted! he posted!

user: we are getting FED

user: i just know this is all yourusername influence

user: not kylie liking...

user: statistics! statistics!

liked by yourusername

yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!

yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one

user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close

user: like fr she stealin my man

user: i love them!!!

user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth

user: she's just like us!

user: LOVE!!!!!

user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie

user: plssss, i love kylie

user: is wonka a musical

user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!

user: fave bob dylan song?

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others

yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!

tagged: tomblyth

1m likes 477k comments

tomblyth: lots of love my dear !

user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it

user: MOTHER

user: parents are parenting

user: I LOVED THIS FILM

user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf

rachelzeglar: my luv &lt;3

yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!

joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me

yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you

joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??

tomblyth: she's the boss

user: how is she so amazing in everything

user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank

user: hi!

user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed

user: i need this film injected into my veins

user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!

tchalamet: very proud

yourusername liked tchalamet's comment

user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating

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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!

user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her

user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?

user: no because i thought the exact same thing

user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute

user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?

user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?

user: they haven't confirmed it

user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him

user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him

user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet

[aangelinakii]

BIRTHDAY WISHES.

— happy birthday, you better enjoy your present.

summary : it's your birthday and a crushing damian decides to gift you something. let's just hope he's not ratting himself out here.

requested !

breathe, damian, it's just a day; they're just a person.

he'd been saying it in the bathroom mirror this morning whilst splashing some water on his face and attempting to style his hair a little better today.

at one point, tim had attempted to come inside as he was staring at himself, knuckles white as he gripped the basin, and damian was quick to slam the door on his forehead, and attempt to ignore the shrieks of pain coming from the hallway.

damian had been crushing deep for you, which he'd realised one ap physics lesson as he sketched the profile of your face in his notebook. you were just friends, and of course he knew that, but there was something about you that made his heart pound, and, evidently, draw you on his pages.

he didn't want to risk spending any money on you, since he didn't carry cash and people would raise some eyebrows if he went around the manor asking for money; if he used his card, his father would see and ask what he's doing buying from that flowershop downtown.

and there was no chance he'd just skip over it and not get you anything — it wasn't that he was trying to impress you, a little bit but not really, it was more so just expressing himself. express, not impress.

the reason he was so nervous about giving to you what he'd made was definitely your reaction.

"what the hell is this? you're a weirdo, you're crazy, you're this, you're that."

despite knowing you weren't that type of person, damian was anxious to be shamed; but at least he'd be showing you his art, instead of hiding it away in his drawers for not another soul to see.

at lunch, the two of you sat at your usual bench in the courtyard, soaking up what sun gotham was offering today — not too mild, not too cold.

whilst you spoke about how your day had gone so far, damian found himself zoning out, your voice becoming a drone in the back of his mind. it wasn't personal — well, maybe it was, considering it was you he was so nervous about.

since realising that his feelings for you were more than platonic, each moment spent with you was like spent back with his mother; he was holding something back, but also doing everything he could. the only difference between here at gotham academy and the league of assassins was that he wasn't learning to kill anyone, just trying to muster up courage to reply to your question.

"what, sorry?" damian asked, finally looking away from his hands to you, where you seemed to be looking at him expectantly.

a light chuckle passed your lips, and a round of chills run up his forearms. "i asked how your day has been, though? since mine clearly can't get any worse."

"any worse? how? it's your birthday."

but damian had definitely had his fair share of horrid birthdays, even going to far to forbid his own one from being celebrated at the manor; the most he lets anyone do is give him a present if they have one and walk off immediately, he doesn't want any singing or stupid sayings.

you hesitated, and damian realised quickly that you had already done all the talking about your day, and stammered on his words to respond to your first question. "uh— yes, no, my day's been alright. i have criminology after lunch, which is quite good." he was trailing off task. "anyway! it's your birthday, right? i mean, of course it is, i just said that... i got you something."

he immediately dove into his backpack, intent in avoiding the stare he could feel boring into the side of his head.

when he found it, it was exactly where he'd carefully slotted it in that morning, tucked in his hardback criminology textbook so it wouldn't crease.

the moment he pulled it from his bag, he could sense your polite confusion from here. "aww, how cute, dames, you got me a crim textbook," he could imagine you thinking, but then when he found the page, your entire demeanor changed.

carefully, damian plucked the piece of paper from where it sat and passed it gingerly to you, closing back up the textbook.

"damian, it's..." the words brushed past your lips in a whisper, sending another wave of chills prickling along his skin. thank god for the navy blazer gotham academy forced them all to wear, or else the jig would be up.

silent, he waited in aching anticipation for your response, his knuckles aching now from cracking them so much in the gap of silence. it was something he did to soothe himself — this time it seemed not to be working as well.

fragile in your fingers, you stared down at your graphite features, wondering where he'd got this angle from; there wasn't any pictures of yourself that you knew of, facing you so head-on, so close and raw, yet so filled with love. in fact, you didn't even know your face could be shown so happy. and then the moment flashed like a billboard in your mind.

after school the other day, you and damian had made a stop-off at the library on the way home, where you'd been hoping to grab a book to aid you in one of your classes, but, inevitably, you'd been distracted by the children's section. how come their area got to be all colourful and filled with fun activities? how come the rest of the library was so drab and dull? well, it did its job, anyhow.

but, laughing away with one another, you'd tucked yourselves into the kiddie-sized reading nook, knees pulled up to chests, shoes mushed against one another, no doubt scuffing them, grins ever-green in the presence of the other.

well... if that was the case, you must've looked really good that day.

before he could have time to brace for impact, you leapt up and engulfed damian in a hug so tender he could feel his heart begin to hammer from behind the cage of his ribs.

"thank you, thank you, thank you!" you grinned into his ear, giving him one final squeeze, pulling away by the time damian could even think around raising an arm to reciprocate.

hot, hot fire ran up the back of his neck, and he brought warm fingertips to brush along it — hopefully it wasn't as red as it felt like it would be.

"this is... better than anything i could ever ask for." your voice went from excited to quiet, more real, and damian felt something swell in his chest.

it only caused damian to smile something soft, and wedge his hands beneath his bottom to hide their tremor from your eyes. "so you like it?"

"like it?" you repeated with a laugh. "damian, i love it."