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ramp-it-up · 11 hours ago

Text

Boss

Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au

A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. Here it is. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, a tinge of lonliness, no work/life balance, jerk Henry, slightly insecure, but smart reader. Jealous Henry, references to male masturbation, wild thoughts on both of your parts, references to oral sex (f receiving), whoo boy, the kiss. And the challenge.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You never meant for this to happen.

You were just practicing self care in the season of love.

The flowers weren’t for anyone but you, a way to remind yourself that you were worth it, even if no one else thought that.

You knew the office would be flooded with bouquets today, desks overflowing with flowers, cards, and candies. It was the one happenstance of your first whirlwind month on the job that stuck with you.

You vowed that your desk wouldn’t be empty this year, and no one would look at you with pity while asking you what you were doing that night.

So you sent flowers to yourself.

They were nothing dramatic, just some pretty little pink peonies and roses with a card that you’d written to yourself.

But Henry, your boss, your gruff, frustrating, inspiring, six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, dark haired, storm-eyed asshole of a boss, apparently, didn’t see it that way.

—--

You’d worked for Henry for a little over 14 months, and there had been a tension between you since your interview when he just sat there and stared at you as if you were some alien sent from a distant world.

Despite that, he grilled you about your personal vision, told you he admired your qualifications and you were hired.

What ensued was a year of hard, but gratifying work with a company that valued diversity and helping the planet. Henry Cavil was the CEO of that company, and as his assistant, you weren’t just a glorified secretary.

You were right-hand to changing the world.

Henry seemed to care for nothing but work, and was professional to the point of extreme with you, even when you two worked late and long hours side by side.

Holidays were unimportant to him, weekends were just another day, and he didn’t seem to notice that you might feel differently.

You didn’t, but it would have been nice to have been asked.

It would have been nice if he noticed you as a human, if he asked about your family, what you liked to do in your free time....Whatever that was.

And sometimes, you looked up to see him looking at you as if he were going to ask about one of those things, but in each instance, he just looked back down to what he was working on, continuing with the discussion at hand.

You let it slide, because being by his side was all that you wanted. Even if he just tolerated you.

Because you were in love with him. Since the moment before he offered you the job at the end of your interview.

You could help millions of people around the world, but you couldn’t help yourself from falling in love with Henry, a man at least ten years your senior who was emotionally unavailable.

You were a sad case.

Your boss was your secret obsession, the man who’d starred in your most delicious fantasies for far too long.

But Henry would never take a second look at you romantically.

You were doll-sized next to him, you’re too nerdy, too curvy, and too headstrong to be the kind of compliant arm candy that you heard he went for. You were destined to pine for your boss with the superhero looks, destined to be the sidekick in the romance of his life.

—---

Henry had been in torment for 14 months 12 days, and 7 hours, the moment you walked into his office for your interview. And he’d been in love with you for 14 months, 12 days, 6 hours and 45 minutes.

But he vowed that you should never know how he felt while sentencing himself to the daily torture of working side by side with you every day.

He tried to put you out of his head, but his favorite thing was to send you ahead of him to meetings and to fall in behind you on the long walk to the boardroom, your sumptuous ass giving him lots of spank bank material.

Every night he went home to shower, fuck his hand, and paint the tiled wall with copious amounts of spend as he thought of the way you looked that day and your adorable little quirks:

The faint smiles you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

How you nibbled on that fucking sexy bottom lip when you were deep in thought and gazing at him, or hunched over your laptop and typing away.

The way that you walked, those tempting curves of yours that made him ache to throw you over his shoulder and have his way with you.

Henry had ordered you the finest oak desk that he could find during your first week on the job. The glass one in the office was fine, but would be a bit flimsy in the off chance that he should throw you over it and eat you out until his jaw was sore and until your voice grew hoarse from screaming his name.

You’d been the fire in his blood for the entire time he’d known you, and he couldn’t help himself from being irretrievably under your spell.

But instead of telling you that, for the last 14 months, he'd settled for every minute that he could wring from you for work, because there could never be anything more than that.

—---

This evening, Henry had stopped in your office doorway with menus for dinner, when he saw the flowers and crossed his arms over his huge chest.

Your eyes slid down his form, noticing how the sleeves of his crisp white button down strained around his biceps, the vest he was wearing highlighted the thick inverted triangle of his body, and his dark slacks hugged his muscular thighs.

It should be illegal for him to look that fucking good, especially at this hour in the evening, on this night of love. You looked up at him, at his dark eyebrows drawn together over those piercing blue eyes, looking at the bouquet like it personally insulted him.

Then he looked at you.

There was heat in his gaze, something that made your toes curl in your heels, and for a moment you were frozen. Damn, he was hot, especially when he was perturbed.

"Who sent them?"

His deep voice was low and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to his sexy ass British accent. Goosebumps raised on your skin.

You were caught between confusion and a being flustered from direct attention from him. He usually avoided eye contact and more than a few grunts at a time, so this was new.

Henry was always intimidating, but tonight, he was also extra attractive, with his tie loosened, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark curls slightly messy as if he'd been running his hands through it.

Oh, and it didn’t help that his jaw was clenching and his blue eyes seemed to be burning.

"Excuse me?" you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible.

You were tired, but there was a deadline to meet, despite the fact that this was a night for lovers.

You two were the perfect pair to still be at work, because you were the furthest thing from romantics. You and Henry were workaholics, dedicated to your job, with no time for love.

Henry’s gaze flicked to the small card nestled between the flowers.

You knew exactly what it said.

You are desirable. You are unforgettable. You deserve to be loved the way you love others.

A self-affirmation just for you. Something no one else was supposed to see.

But when Henry read it, he mistook the meaning.

"So who is he?"

His look was dark and his eyes were stormy, causing your stomach to drop.

"What?"

Henry’s fists clenched at his sides.

"The person who sent these. The one who wrote you that."

His voice dropped lower, like he was trying to hold back something.

"Who. Is. He?"

You realized that he thought you had someone. And he sounded jealous. But that would be…

No. It was impossible.

Your pulse became erratic with the thought

Henry was always particular: demanding, impatient, exacting. But he was also never unfair and never once let you fail. He always pushed you to be better and gave you glowing performance reviews, even when his actions conveyed that you were the most frustrating person on the planet to him.

You always assumed that he just tolerated you. That you annoyed him. But at the moment, he looked like a man barely holding himself together because he thought someone else had sent you flowers.

This was a development.

Before you could respond, Henry stepped closer to you. You tilted your head back to gaze up at him towering over you, broad and built like a damn brick wall. One that you wanted and needed to climb.

"You didn’t answer me," he murmured, voice rough. Boy, those eyes could chill you to the bone.

"Why do you care?"

You were perturbed now, and it was clear in your response.

Henry’s jaw ticked and something flashed in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for you to analyze.

“Careful, Little One.”

He’d never called you that, so you cocked your head with curiosity and watched as he sat on the edge of your desk, hiking his pants up on his legs, showcasing his massive thighs, and yes, the long, thick rod between them.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes went wide, too surprised at his words and actions to pull the well-practiced mask over your features.

Henry caught you looking, but you didn’t catch the way his mouth hooked up in a half smile at your reaction.

You licked your lips and watched as his hand moved slowly upward, until he was brushing his fingers over the petals of one of the roses. The act felt intimate, like he was imagining something else beneath his fingertips.

Or maybe you were the one imagining.

“You deserve to be loved the way you love others," he repeated, more softly.

He gazed at you, eyes blazing.

"And you think this guy, whoever he is, can give you that?"

Your throat went dry. You should’ve just told him the truth. But you didn’t.

Because you knew he was jealous. And he was about to lose it. And you wanted to see what happened when he did.

You chucked your chin up at him, a challenge.

"And what if he can?"

Henry knew he was pathetic because you were his employee, and he had no claim to you, no right to feel possessive at the thought of you with another man.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track down the mutherfucker that sent you those flowers and beat him to a bloody pulp. And that didn't stop him from wanting to grab you and kiss you until you realized that you were fucking his.

That you’d always been his, from the moment you first looked him in the eye.

The air between you crackled with energy as his entire body tensed as he stood up again, those massive hands curling into fists like he was restraining himself from something. His jaw flexed, his breath deepened, and he reached out for you, hand on your waist, drawing you in to press you against his very solid body.

And then Henry’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding and so fucking perfect that you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.

You grunted in surprise as his full lips pressed on yours and his delicious tongue slid inside your mouth. All of your senses came alive in a cacophony of sight, taste, smell, and sound. And of course, touch.

You let yourself melt into his kiss, reaching up and tugging at the soft curls rioting over his collar, and then he pulled back, panting. His hand came up to wipe the moisture from your lips with his thumb, which he then inserted into his mouth and kept eye contact with you as he suckled his digit.

You imagined those lips doing the same to various points on your body and you nearly swooned, especially when he pulled his thumb out with a plop and then released you.

Henry stepped back, baring his teeth in a dangerous smile.

Your mind was scrambled, but you knew one thing for certain: Henry was attracted to you. Just as much as you were attracted to him.

Who would have thunk?

Henry adjusted his cuffs, highlighting those distracting veins on the back of his hands. He nodded at the flowers, then at you, a dangerous smile on his lips.

"Hope he’s ready to compete," he murmured, leaving you stunned.

“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

And then he walked back into his office, leaving you staring after him, heart slamming against your ribs, lips feeling swollen and bruised from the kiss.

You had no idea what those flowers just unleashed in him.

But you were about to find out.

#ask dj #dj will answer #ceo!henry cavill #Henry Cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill au #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine #valentinemas #x reader

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notiddygothgf · 1 day ago

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ii.

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ You're drunk. ❞ ❝ Not that drunk. ❞

★ c.w.: tension. drinking. reader embarrassing the hell out of herself omg. not beta'd

★ a/n: oh my god i was so excited after the amount of love i got on the last chapter that i absolutely had to rush this one out!!! i was literally ripping my shirt off bc of the tension i just want them to fuck omg. (Jk... not rlly tho stay tuned). anyway if you couldnt tell im super aki hungry lately. this chapter is the result of that. we get to see a different side to the cold blooded captain.... i think yall r gonna like it just trust me ;)

again i apologize for the fast pacing, pls remember that this is a short story! (though shameless was supposed to be short too so who knows i may rewrite it into a longfic teehee). you know the drill! leave lots and lots of comments for me to read and ill make that next chapter come out stat! get ready... its a long one lol xx

★ w.c: .5.2k

pornstar ; chapter index

THE NIGHT – for the most part – had just started. Your drinks, on the other hand, hadn't waited up. You were three beers deep, head perched on your hand, peering at Himeno, who was telling some wild recount of the mission you had just had. Everyone else was listening, too, heads turned, eyes wide while she described the way you had "swooped in and saved the day" (something Hayakawa had chewed you out for).

"She blew a hole straight through the building," She was saying. "But there were no casualties. Talk about precision, am I right?"

And, eyelids droopy as all hell, you laughed, swirling the piss yellow liquid around in your beer mug. The pleasant buzz from the few drinks you'd had were beginning to seep into your skin, warmth washing over you in slow, comforting waves. You basked in it for a moment, tuning out of the conversation being had only a few feet away.

You tuned out and, instead, your attention shifted. You see, it was hard to stay focused when a certain someone you hadn't expected to show up actually wound up pulling through, now seated at the other end of the table looking far too uptight to be at a friendly gathering. He was wearing his Public Safety uniform – the one you had never seen him out of... not that you were thinking about what he looked like out of uniform, or anything like that �� and he looked good enough to have you questioning your own sanity.

You swore it was the alcohol – you swore it was. Nothing else could explain the way your pulse thrummed a little harder in your veins when he looked up and caught your gaze, cobalt eyes tearing you apart at the seams. Hair pulled back perfectly into his signature ponytail, not a strand out of place. He hadn't taken off his suit, but you were suddenly rather conscious of how much larger than you he was – of the way he seemed that much taller than you, even when he was sitting down, of the way his suit accentuated his broad shoulders. His jawline was sharp and angular, just like the rest of him, and his eyes... fuck, his eyes...

Were staring right at you.

Biting back a shriek, you averted your gaze, glaring into your lap like that would make the situation any better. You had to take the situation at face value – you had invited your superior out to drinks and were now making a complete and utter fool out of yourself by spending the evening making goo-goo eyes at him.

Oh, and not to mention the fact that you were supposed to hate his fucking guts.

Shaking yourself out of it, you tuned back into Himeno's conversation, trying to latch onto her words like a lifeline.

"So then, this asshole pops out of nowhere—like, I swear to God, he came out of thin air—and he goes for her throat. But!—" She punctuated her words with an exaggerated hand motion, nearly knocking over her beer in the process. "She dodges like it's nothing. I mean, I've never seen reflexes like that. It was unreal."

You managed a laugh, though it came out a little delayed, like your body had to remember how to react. The alcohol had made you sluggish, slow, and the warmth in your chest had turned sticky, clinging to your ribs. You weren't even sure what you were feeling anymore, but something about it didn't sit right.

Your gaze slid back to him—because of course it did. And this time, when you looked, he wasn't looking back.

Instead, Aki's attention was on something else entirely—on someone else. He was speaking to one of the girls from another division. Kobeni, you realized. She was nodding, awkward and stiff, while he spoke, his expression the same measured, unreadable one he always wore.

You let your head drop onto Himeno's shoulder, exhaling through your nose. What the hell is going on between us?

It wasn't like you. You weren't the type to get hung up on things like this. But tonight, the drinks had loosened something in you, and you could feel it unraveling, thread by thread. Aki was a pain in your ass. He was the one constantly calling you reckless, the one always tightening the reins when you stepped even a little out of line. You weren't supposed to care. You weren't supposed to notice how sharp his jaw looked under the dim bar lights or the way his hands moved when he spoke.

And yet.

Himeno, drunker than you were, said nothing about the way you leaned against her, only let her head tilt slightly against yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You shut your eyes for a moment. Maybe if you pretended you weren't watching him, pretended you weren't thinking about this at all, it would stop feeling like something.

But it didn't work.

No, once more, your gaze drifted back to the damn captain. This time, when he spoke to Kobeni, she smiled – wide enough to crease the skin at the corners of her eyes. She was a pretty, young thing. She had pretty eyes and pretty, chestnut brown hair. She was shy and timid and took orders very well – everything you were not.

I wonder if he likes her, You couldn't help but wonder, smile dropping from your face while you observed the two of them in conversation.

A strange feeling clawed its way over your chest. Something you couldn't name. It was a horrible, rotten feeling. One you hadn't felt since you were a highschooler. It sat in your stomach like a brick, burning its way through your arteries, prying at your lips for escape.

It was jealousy.

Oh, what the fuck?

She definitely likes him, you thought. That much was evident by the way she leaned into her superior's space, eagerly taking in every word that left his mouth. Her eyes glimmered with something that made your stomach churn.

It was jealousy, you knew that, but... why? Why him? Why now?

Why the fuck did you even care?

Why did you feel jealous over a man you hated?

Himeno's hand on your shoulder shook you out of your drunken gaze. You perked up, lifting your head from the crook in her shoulder, turning your attention away from the scene in front of you so you could dedicate all of your attention to someone more deserving of it.

"You know, kohai," She giggled, face flushed with a drunken shade. "You're really pretty."

Am I in the twilight zone?

You smiled at her, "That's coming from you."

"Oh, shut up," The woman replied, batting you away with your hands, laughing up a storm. "I wanna ask you... ask you 'sumthin."

You knit your brows together, pursing your lips. "What's up?"

She looked at you, then, lashes fluttering over her one good eye, mischief written all over her face. You knew you shouldn't have asked, but you were even more shocked by her answer, "Would you kiss me?"

You laughed at that – you couldn't help it, truly. Himeno had kissed just about every person in the division (though you weren't sure if that excluded a certain stuck-up bastard, and you were even less sure that you wanted to ask). Still, it was because of that fact that you knew her request was harmless. It was... just her way of showing love while drunk. She couldn't help it.

"I didn't know you could swing that way, Himeno," You laughed.

"I've never tried– hic– tried," She shrugged, as if she was asking the easiest question in the entire world. "'M jussst... curious, aren't you?"

You answered back, "Not really."

And she pouted at that – like she was a child and not a drunk-ass, grown-ass woman, "Why not? Am I not your type?"

No, but apparently someone else is.

Peering down at the table, vision a little hazy, you polished off the rest of your beer. Then, you added, "You could say that."

Why do I feel drunker than I did a few minutes ago?

"Who's your type, then?" She asked, leaning forward, all up into your personal space, and it would have bothered you if it was anyone else, "Do you like girls? Guys?"

"Never really explored, but..." You hummed. The beer made its way down the back of your throat, warming your vocal chords, your stomach, your chest. "Guys, I guess."

Then that devilish little grin of hers was back on her face. "If you could fuck anyone here, then, who would it be?"

"Sober or drunk?" You laughed, setting your empty mug down with a soft clink.

Himeno cackled, tipping forward slightly in her seat. The alcohol had turned her loose, made her limbs sluggish and her voice louder than she probably realized. "A few shots, maybe. Not drunk."

You hummed, drumming your fingers against the table, pretending to give it some thought. But the answer was already there, sitting heavy in the back of your mind, waiting for a moment of weakness to slip through the cracks.

Captain Hayakawa.

The name surfaced so quickly, so naturally, that it startled you. And before you could stop yourself, before you could even pretend to fight it, your gaze flickered back to him.

Big mistake.

Because Himeno caught it immediately.

She gasped, sharp and dramatic, smacking a hand over her mouth like she had just witnessed a crime scene. It was so loud, so cartoonish, that a few people turned to look, and you had to resist the urge to sink into your seat.

"No fucking way," she whispered, but there was nothing subtle about the gleam in her eye. She practically vibrated with excitement, like she'd just stumbled upon the juiciest piece of gossip imaginable. Then, with a grin, she leaned in, voice hushed but not nearly hushed enough. "You're hot for captain?"

You snapped your head toward her so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. "No—no, no," you hissed, gripping her forearm in a weak attempt to physically shut her up. "Shut up, Himeno."

She wasn't having it. She wiggled her brows at you, eyes twinkling with amusement. "No fucking way," she repeated, drawing out every syllable like she was savoring them. "I thought you hated his guts."

"I do," you shot back, a little too fast, a little too forceful. It was immediate. Instinctive. A reflex.

And she noticed.

The look on her face turned downright smug.

"I don't have the hots for him," you corrected, shaking your head, willing your face to cool down even as it burned. "Now would you keep it down?"

Himeno held up her hands in surrender, but there was something devious in the way she did it, like she was still holding onto the truth of the situation, just waiting for the right moment to pry it back open.

She sat back slightly, but then, after a beat—because of course she couldn't just leave it at that—she leaned in again, voice dipping lower, eyes gleaming. "If you were a little drunker, though..."

You groaned, slapping a hand over your face. "Enough," you hissed, dragging out the word, but your voice lacked bite.

She was full-on giggling now, shoulders shaking, thoroughly enjoying your suffering.

Then, her laughter faded—just a little—and she tilted her head, giving you a look that was too knowing, too amused. "Not even a kiss?"

"No," you said, firm. But somehow, it didn't feel quite as firm as it should have.

The night went smoothly after that. Drinks and conversation were flowing, you were sufficiently drunk, and the lot of you were laughing loud enough to disturb any of the other patrons who came to this poor izakaya to get moderately tipsy.

The drinks kept coming, conversation swelling louder with each round, the izakaya thick with smoke and the scent of grilled meat. You were properly drunk, the kind where your limbs felt loose, where laughter came too easily, where everything should've been fun, should've been easy.

Except it wasn't.

Because across the table, Aki was still talking to Kobeni.

And you didn't care. You didn't.

You had no reason to. You weren't friends. You weren't anything. If anything, you hated his guts—his quiet, know-it-all demeanor, his stupid pretty face, the way he always acted so fucking above it all. Like he was better than the rest of you just because he didn't get sloppy drunk, didn't fuck around, didn't let things get to him.

And yet—

Your drink was empty again. When had that happened? You barely remembered drinking it. You reached for the bottle to pour yourself more, but your hand wasn't as steady as you wanted it to be. Himeno laughed beside you, grabbing the bottle before you could knock it over.

"Take it easy," she teased, topping off your glass anyway.

You snorted. "I'm fine."

Himeno grinned, and for a moment, you let yourself focus on her instead. It was easier. She was warm, easy to be around, all teasing smiles and the kind of confidence that made everything feel simple.

But then—

Another laugh from across the table. Aki's.

You hadn't even known he could laugh like that, low and quiet, the kind that didn't come often. Your stomach twisted before you could stop it, your head snapping toward him on instinct.

Kobeni was leaning in, her hands curled in her lap, nodding at whatever he'd said. And Aki—he wasn't even looking at her anymore, just staring down at his drink, lips twitching like he wasn't sure if he should be amused or annoyed.

You clenched your jaw.

It wasn't like they were doing anything.

Aki wasn't flirting—he wasn't the type. You knew that. He wasn't the kind of guy to lean in too close, to lower his voice just enough to make someone's breath hitch, to toy with people the way Himeno did. He was the exact opposite—quiet, serious, all sharp edges and self-control.

And yet, there was something unbearable about the way he was sitting there, across the table, listening to Kobeni like she was worth listening to.

She was talking—some pointless, forgettable thing, probably about work—but her body language spoke louder than her words. The way she fidgeted with her glass, how she kept sneaking glances at him, how her voice wavered slightly before picking up again, like she was hesitating before every sentence. She was nervous. And that alone made you feel like something was pressing against your ribs, like a slow, smoldering ember was settling somewhere beneath your skin.

She was trying.

Trying to impress him. Trying to be seen by him.

And Aki—Aki, idiot that he was—just sat there, unreadable as ever, nodding along, responding just enough to keep the conversation going but not enough to give anything away. Not pushing her away. Not shutting her down.

Letting her talk. Letting her have his attention.

Your fingers tightened around your drink.

It was stupid.

You didn't even like him.

You weren't sure if you even respected him. Half the time, you couldn't stand him—his rules, his orders, the way he always acted so damn above it all. You'd seen him roll his eyes at you more times than you could count, seen the way he sighed when you got under his skin. You weren't his type, and he sure as hell wasn't yours.

So you had no reason—none at all—to feel that awful, simmering thing curling in your stomach.

Maybe it was just the alcohol.

Or maybe it was something uglier.

Maybe it was the fact that if Aki ever looked at you the way Kobeni looked at him, you wouldn't know what the fuck to do with it. Maybe it was the idea that he could like someone like her—quiet, nervous, too polite for her own good—when all he ever did with you was act like you were a fucking nuisance.

Maybe it was that, deep down, you had always assumed Aki didn't have the capacity to like anyone at all.

And now, watching him sit there, watching Kobeni work up the nerve to inch closer, to brush her fingers against the edge of his sleeve like she was testing the waters—you weren't so sure anymore.

You downed your drink, jaw tightening.

Himeno nudged you, her voice playful but perceptive. "You're awfully quiet," she mused, lips quirking.

You exhaled sharply, barely processing the words before your own were spilling out.

"I changed my mind."

Himeno blinked. "Huh?"

You didn't think.Didn't hesitate. Didn't second-guess yourself.

Your hand curled into the fabric of Himeno's collar, tugging her forward with more force than necessary. There was barely a beat of surprise before your lips crashed against hers, the alcohol burning hot in your veins, your pulse hammering in your ears.

The izakaya erupted around you. A chair scraping against the floor, a loud whistle, the sharp intake of breath from someone—Kobeni, probably. Laughter. Someone shouting something half-coherent in encouragement. The kind of scene that would normally make you self-conscious, make you want to shrink away from the attention.

But you didn't shrink away.

Because Himeno kissed you back.

And she kissed you like she meant it.

Her lips tasted like warm sake, sweet and sharp, the scent of cigarette smoke clinging faintly to her. Her fingers slid up your neck, slow and deliberate, curling at the base of your skull. She deepened the kiss, tilting her head just enough to press closer, her breath mingling with yours.

For a second, it was grounding.

For a second, the heat of it, the weight of her hands, the press of her body against yours—it was enough to drown out the gnawing, ugly feeling twisting in your stomach.

You could feel her smirk against your mouth. Himeno had always been good at this—at teasing, at making things feel light, easy. Like none of it had to mean anything.

When she pulled back, her grin was lazy, her eyes lidded and amused. Her fingers stayed in your hair, playing absently with the strands.

"Damn," she murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear, "You kiss like a man. I like it."

The words should've embarrassed you.

Should've made you regret it.

But you just laughed, breathless. It felt a little hollow.

Because when you glanced toward Aki's seat—

He was gone.

Your stomach dropped, the lightness of the moment collapsing in on itself.

And just like that, the heat you'd felt seconds ago twisted into something unbearable.

The room was too loud. Too warm. The laughter too sharp, the smell of alcohol suddenly cloying. Himeno was still watching you, her teasing smile lingering, but you couldn't focus on any of it.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

It shouldn't have mattered. It didn't matter. But your heart was pounding anyway, and suddenly the room felt too loud, the heat of it unbearable. Himeno was still looking at you, a teasing remark likely on the tip of her tongue, but you couldn't focus on any of it.

That asshole, you thought – ideas ruminating in your mind. I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind, leaving with no excuse like that.

You pushed your chair back, barely hearing the legs scrape against the floor.

"Where are you—?" Himeno started, but you were already moving, shoving past the press of bodies, stepping outside.

The night air hit you immediately, a sharp contrast to the stifling warmth of the izakaya. The street was damp from earlier rain, neon lights from nearby signs reflecting off the slick pavement. The noise from inside was muffled now, like it belonged to a different world.

You didn't stop until you came face-to-face with an intimidating figure. You exhaled slowly, breath curling in the cold. And then—

Aki.

He stood a few steps away, his back against the wall, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He wasn't smoking it, not yet—just twirling it absently, gaze fixed on some distant point down the street. His expression was unreadable, the way it always was.

And he was devastatingly handsome, even now – fucking asshole.

Biting back a drunk little grin – and realizing that you knew damn well you would never, ever have done this sober – you approached him, hips swaying from side to side. Whether the motion was due to your trying to come off as enticing or due to the copious amounts of sake and beer you had ingested, you weren't sure. Hell, you weren't sure about anything anymore.

And, the moment those baby blues of his flicked up to meet your gaze, you immediately regretted coming out to find him. The fact that he was perceiving you now in such a drunken state was enough to have your heart beating against your ribs like an animal at the zoo (but not enough to make you back down now that you had him alone). You knew it was stupid, fuck, you should have turned back on your heel and gone back the way you had come, but you couldn't stop yourself.

No, I have to give him a piece of my mind.

His eyes dropped down to your outfit – the little black dress you definitely hadn't picked out with him in mind, making sure that it revealed just the right amount of cleavage, hugged you in all of the right places – and then back up to your face. The movement was small, almost perceptible, but in your wasted state, you were hyperconscious of his every move, of the way his eyes widened when they saw you, the way you could smell the scent of him from where you were standing, masculine, woody, ambery cologne mingled in with the faintest hint of smoke.

You were so drunk that you were practically seeing two of him until you refocused your eyes. So drunk that, for a moment, you couldn't say anything – realizing that you had forgotten to come up with an excuse to see him at that moment – and neither could he.

You were the first one to break the silence. "You're such an asshole."

He didn't look the slightest bit phased by your words. Instead, he reached into his pocket and searched for his lighter, holding it up to the end of the cigarette and striking the wheel until the flame took.

"You just... left," You swallowed, throat suddenly very dry.

He held the cigarette up to his lips, popping it between them like it was the most natural thing in the world, taking a deep breath. You watched the tension melt away from his shoulders, smelled the nicotine as it wafted up into the air around you.

Then, finally, he glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah."

Your pulse jumped at the sound of his voice for no reason whatsoever. Pouting, you crossed your arms, damn near stumbling as you did so, "You didn't even say anything. No goodbye, no nothing."

"I was stepping out for a smoke," He breathed smoke out into the air. "Didn't think I needed to."

God, he pissed you off. Him and... his... his beautiful, blue eyes, and... fuck.

"You could at least pretend to be fun sometimes," You muttered – you thought it was beneath your breath, but when you caught the way his head tilted at your words, you knew that wasn't the case. So, instead of apologizing for insubordination like you probably should have done, you decided to dig your grave a little deeper. "You just sit in there– hic– all stiff, barely... barely drinkin', actin' like– like you're... too good for the rest of us."

"I'm tipsy enough," He hummed. "Not that that's any of your business, and I wasn't acting like anything."

Now, this was the point where any sane person would have dropped to their knees and apologized to him.

Not you, though.

No, the liquid courage coursing through your veins deluded you into thinking that you could talk some sense into him.

Actually, what came out was something entirely different.

"You were all over Kobeni," You narrowed your eyes. The words left your lips before you could even stop them. Immediately, regret settled in your chest, washing over you in waves – making your face burn.

There's no way I just said that to him, you chastised yourself internally, Fuck, I'm gonna be fired.

Aki didn't react at first. Just stared at you. Then, after a beat, he let out a short, dry sigh.

"You're drunk."

You pouted, "Not that drunk." (Which was a total lie. You were practically smelling colors).

He studied you again with those fucking... hawk eyes of his, gaze sharp in a way that made your skin crawl with anxiety. He wasn't looking at you the way Kobeni had looked at him – wasn't waiting for something, hoping for something. But he was looking at you.

Finally looking at you. And somehow, that was worse.

"She was asking me about an upcoming assignment," He commented, voice flat. You should have been grateful that he had even decided to humor you and your drunk interrogation, realistically. "That's it."

He's... surprisingly patient today.

I wonder how far I can push him until he snaps, you thought, not really knowing why – or, for that matter, what the hell had crawled into your brain to control you and make all of these stupid decisions.

You huffed, "Oh."

"Yeah," He pulled another hit from his cigarette, and this time, you observed him – the sinful way his lips wrapped around the end of it, cherry glowing orange while he took another deep breath. Then, you watched him breathe the smoke out through his nose. "You're a real pain in my ass. You know that?"

You didn't know why – the same way you didn't know why everything was happening, but you laughed. It was more like a giggle, really, a bubbly, drunken noise that you practically choked out. Either way, it was enough to have him looking at you like you had two heads.

You stumbled a little closer to him and, to your surprise, he didn't inch away. Instead, his gaze followed your sluggish movements, different, this time – like a cat eyeing up a naive little mouse. Like you were prey.

"What the hell's gotten into you tonight?" He asked.

Stumbling over your feet, you braced your hands on the wall in front of you, dropping your head and laughing a little harder. Truthfully, you didn't know why you were laughing. Nothing was funny. None of this was funny.

Even more truthfully – as you peeled your gaze up from the ground, from Aki's shoes, you realized that you weren't leaning on a wall at all.

You were leaning on him.

I'm fucking dead, you thought. If I wake up tomorrow, I'll be handed a letter of termination.

You met his gaze head-on, half-lidded eyes peering up at him through your lashes. He didn't break eye-contact this time. No, he was looking at you the same way you were looking at him – like neither of you knew why any of this was happening, like you weren't quite sure if you wanted it to stop, either, even though you knew it should.

You could see it again – the faint shift in his expression, in the way he looked at you. Something had definitely changed. There was an unreadable glint in his eyes. Maybe if you were sober, you would have been able to tell what it was.

Then again, if you were sober, you would have done the right thing tonight and stayed inside. You certainly wouldn't have been there, leaning on his shoulder, looking up at him and realizing that everything was different.

It wasn't just the alcohol. No, he was different.

"I hope you're not driving home," He commented, though his voice lacked its usual tenor, its usual confidence. "Not like this."

Why's he actin' so weird?

"Since when did you care?" You pouted. When he said nothing, you answered. "Okay, I walked here."

"Good," He sighed.

"You wanna walk me home?"

The words slurred out before you could even process them, and you immediately regretted asking. Aki, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching you from the corner of his eye, but his gaze didn't soften.

"No."

His response was quick, firm, and just a little too cold. But the way his gaze flickered over you, almost a little too long, made you wonder if he wasn't as unaffected as he wanted you to think.

You blinked, not entirely sure what you were expecting but not that. "Why not?" you asked, and your voice came out more whiny than you'd intended.

Aki didn't immediately answer, flicking the cigarette ash onto the ground, the ember glowing brighter for a brief second. He looked at you, expression unreadable for a moment. Then, his voice was low and tired. "Because I don't feel like it."

You frowned, feeling the weight of his words tug at your chest, though you couldn't fully explain why. "Lame," you muttered. You weren't sure what you were even getting at anymore, but the thought of being alone tonight felt worse than anything else.

He eyed you for a second, but there was something softer in his expression now. Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in for him, too. "You're drunk," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you weren't sure was out of discomfort or something else.

You smiled—more like a crooked grin, but you couldn't help it. "I'm not that drunk," you protested, but you swayed on your feet as you said it, and he didn't look convinced.

Aki's lips curled into something between a smirk and a sigh, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh. Sure, you're not." His eyes flicked to yours again, a little too keen for someone who was supposed to be this dismissive.

"I just... don't wanna be alone," you muttered, the words coming out before you even realized you were saying them.

Aki stared at you for a long moment, and you swore there was a flicker of something in his gaze—annoyance? Amusement? But it passed just as quickly. "Well, that's your problem," he said with a dry chuckle, his tone flat, as though he were trying to make it clear he didn't want to hear it. "Not mine."

You stumbled slightly, both from the alcohol and the sting of his words. "Right," you muttered, trying to steady yourself, feeling the warm rush of liquid courage running through you. But as you stood there, looking up at him, something started to sink in. This was Aki. You knew him. Knew his moods. His indifference. But this, tonight—something was different.

"I... just," you began, trying to find the right words, but they came out jumbled. "Just... help me, okay?" The desperation was there, but you weren't sure if he saw it.

His eyes softened slightly, the sharpness in them dulling just a little as his cigarette burned down to a stub. "Help you? What, do you expect me to just babysit you?"

You winced at the word, the thought stinging more than it should have. "No," you murmured, taking a step closer to him. "I just..." You trailed off, biting your lip. The alcohol was starting to cloud your thoughts even more, but you couldn't shake the feeling that if you didn't convince him now, you'd really be on your own. And you couldn't handle that tonight.

Aki raised an eyebrow at you, clearly unsure of what you were getting at. "What?" he asked, a little too bluntly for your liking.

You stared up at him, breath a little shaky. "Please," you repeated, but this time, there was something more vulnerable in your tone. "Pleeeeeeeasee."

The words felt like a weight that had to be lifted, but they also made you feel foolish. You weren't that drunk. You weren't. But the world felt like it was spinning out of control, and you didn't know where to place your feet anymore.

Aki took a deep breath, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to process everything you'd just said. There was no edge in his voice anymore, just a weariness that made you wonder if you weren't the only one who'd had too much to drink.

"You're really something," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't even know why I'm putting up with this."

"I'll cry," you said, half-laughing, half-serious. The words felt ridiculous, but they slipped out anyway, desperate in their simplicity.

Aki's gaze softened a little, though the smirk that tugged at his lips was almost imperceptible. "Go ahead," he said, voice flat, but his eyes held something deeper.

The silence stretched between you as you waited for him to backpedal, to somehow take back that easy dismissal. But instead, his shoulders sagged, and he sighed, long and loud. He took a last drag from his cigarette, flicked it to the ground, and ground it out beneath his heel.

"Fine," he muttered, and the words caught you off guard. "I'll walk you home."

For a moment, you didn't believe him, like the weight of what he was agreeing to was still sinking in. You blinked, slightly stunned. "Wait, really?"

He shot you an incredulous look, though his eyes softened just a little, like he was too tired to argue anymore. "Yeah, really. Can we go now, before you start actually crying?"

You blinked, a small, unsteady laugh slipping from your lips. You hadn't expected him to cave so easily, and it made you feel like you'd gotten away with something. But then, the weight of what you'd just gotten him to agree to settled in. You didn't want to push your luck any further.

Aki took a step back and gestured toward the door of the izakaya, his voice dropping lower. "We can't leave together. Not like this. If people see us leaving at the same time, it'll look weird."

The realization hit you. Of course. Everyone had been watching you all night, and there was no way you could just stroll out of there with him without someone noticing. "Right," you mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed at how quickly you'd forgotten about that. "Okay. You go first."

He nodded, his expression softening just a touch. "I'll wait a few minutes, make it look like I'm staying." He gave you a dry look, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. "Try not to make a scene on your way out. Himeno's gonna wonder what's going on."

You winced, the reminder of Himeno's playful teasing still fresh in your mind. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine," you muttered, more to yourself than to him. You were still trying to process the fact that Aki—Aki—had actually agreed to walk you home.

He gave you a brief nod before turning to head toward the back of the bar, disappearing behind a row of drunken patrons and laughter, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the noise inside.

You took a deep breath and steadied yourself, trying to ignore the swirl of thoughts that followed you like a second layer of fog. You'd barely had enough time to process everything that had happened between you two tonight, let alone now have to pretend like nothing was different.

You swayed a little as you turned back toward the group, feeling that odd combination of exhilaration and dread settling in your chest. When you reached Himeno's side, she was already watching you with that sly little grin of hers. She could probably read you like a book, even if you were still half-drunk.

You straightened your shoulders, trying to force a smile. "I'm heading out," you told her, your voice still a little shaky. "Long day tomorrow."

Himeno raised an eyebrow but said nothing for a moment, like she was trying to make sense of something you weren't telling her. "Uh-huh. Sure," she replied, her voice a little too casual for your liking. "Alright. Be careful. You arewalking home, right?"

You nodded quickly, swallowing down a lump in your throat. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I'll be fine."

Himeno eyed you for a beat longer before shrugging. "Okay. Have a good night," she said, her smile unreadable.

With that, you gave her a brief wave and turned to walk out of the izakaya. The door swung open, the chilly night air rushing in and hitting you like a bucket of cold water. You paused just outside, feeling the weight of the night settle around you.

Aki had said he'd wait a few minutes, and you weren't sure whether to be nervous or relieved.

Your feet shifted restlessly, the cold air biting at your skin as you leaned against the brick of the building, trying to look casual—like you weren't waiting for him at all.

You glanced around. The street was quieter now, with fewer people out and about, but still, the idea of walking home with Aki felt... strange. The thought of him so close to you, especially after everything that had happened, was almost more than you could handle.

Just when you thought maybe it'd be better to leave and get it over with, you heard footsteps behind you. Aki's figure appeared through the dim light, moving with the usual purposeful strides that somehow felt different tonight.

Without saying anything, he walked past you, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly as he headed down the street. He didn't stop, didn't turn around, and you could feel the shift in the air. The tension between you was undeniable now.

For a moment, you just stood there, your feet feeling rooted to the spot. You weren't sure what to do. You didn't want to make it obvious that you were waiting for him, but at the same time, you couldn't shake the odd sense of unease creeping over you. What was happening? What wasn't happening?

Finally, you exhaled, pushing yourself off the wall and walking slowly toward him. You didn't call out; it wasn't like you had to. It was clear that he wasn't planning on walking that far away from you.

Aki moved at a steady pace, hands shoved into his pockets as he walked ahead, the cool breeze tugging at the collar of his jacket. You felt a weird, unfamiliar pressure building in your chest as you matched his steps, not sure if you were keeping your distance on purpose or if it was because you didn't know where to start.

When you reached his side, you glanced at him briefly. He didn't acknowledge you, not really. It was like you were walking side-by-side by accident, like this was just some strange, unspoken part of the night that neither of you could quite comprehend.

You couldn't help yourself. "So," you started, your voice a little wobbly. "I didn't think you'd actually do it."

Aki turned his head, those sharp eyes of his flicking over you. "What? Walk you home?" he asked, voice rough around the edges. He didn't look at you like he normally did. There was something more distant about it, almost like the alcohol had drawn a line between you.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. "Yeah. Didn't think you were... I don't know, the type."

He snorted softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm not," he muttered, as if it was obvious. "But you were whining enough to make me reconsider."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of how easily he gave in to you tonight, like it was no big deal. But then again, you weren't sure if that was comforting or more uncomfortable.

You walked a little further before speaking again, your voice barely above a whisper. "So, what now?" You were almost afraid to ask, but at the same time, you had to know. Was this just a one-off thing? Was he going to pretend none of this had happened?

Aki didn't answer right away. Instead, he kicked a small rock out of the way, his eyes focused straight ahead. "We're going to your place," he said, his tone back to its usual flatness. "Wherever that is."

You didn't know why, but you couldn't shake the knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

Before you could process it, Aki's voice broke through your thoughts again, low and dry.

"You good, or you gonna keep asking me questions?"

You swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of your drunken haze. "I'm good."

A moment passed. You paid close attention to the sound of your heels on the pavement, the sound of his sneakers touching the same surface.

"I just realized I don't even know your address," He added, almost like he felt bad about shutting you up.

"I live at the– uh... you know where the post office is?" You rattled off the top of your head. He seemed like a man with a good sense of direction.

He nodded.

"Okay, well, I live right across from it. At the apartment complex," You finished.

His eyes narrowed, "That's only three blocks away."

"Yup," You nodded.

"You really couldn't walk that on your own?" He reiterated.

"Nope."

The cold air against your skin had sobered you just enough to think more clearly, but you still couldn't shake the feeling that something was... off. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol still buzzing through your system or the strange tension between the two of you, but the air felt heavy.

Aki was walking beside you, as stoic as ever, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He hadn't said much since you left the izakaya, and you weren't sure if that was his usual silence or if something else was bothering him. Either way, it had you on edge, and you couldn't resist breaking the silence.

"So... tonight's been pretty weird, huh?" you said, glancing sideways at him as you tried to read his expression. You needed something from him, but you weren't sure what.

Aki didn't respond right away. He just gave you a quick glance, his sharp eyes flickering over you before he answered. "Weird how?"

You shrugged, feeling the alcohol's effects still lingering on your tongue. "I don't know. You've been quieter than usual."

Aki didn't seem particularly moved by that observation. "I'm not in the mood for small talk."

You exhaled in frustration, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve. "I guess not. But it's just... I've been acting weird tonight. Doing things I wouldn't normally do."

"Like what?" Aki asked, his voice flat but with a slight hint of curiosity.

"I kissed Himeno," you blurted, half-smiling to yourself at how ridiculous it sounded coming out of your mouth. You almost regretted saying it. But it had to be said, right?

Aki's head turned just slightly, but his face didn't change. "Yeah, and?"

You blinked, a little caught off guard by how quickly he dismissed it. "You know... it was a kiss. Just... fun, I guess."

"Fun," Aki repeated, though his voice was laced with a certain dryness. "Right."

You kept walking, feeling an odd twist in your stomach at how unbothered he was. You'd expected more of a reaction—something. Maybe you were wrong about trying to make him jealous. Maybe he didn't care at all.

But you didn't want to admit that. Instead, you pressed on. "She's a good kisser, though. Didn't think she had it in her."

Aki shot you another glance, his lips pressed together in a thin line. You could see the faintest shift in his expression, but it was gone so quickly you weren't sure if you imagined it. "Himeno, huh? You really go for the easy ones, don't you?"

It was a subtle jab, but it still managed to hit something inside of you. "I wouldn't say 'easy,'" you muttered, trying to shrug it off. "But yeah, I guess I've got a thing for—what?—fun, spontaneous stuff. You know, the kind of thing you wouldn't normally do."

Aki didn't answer right away, and the silence stretched between you. You could feel his eyes on you, but it wasn't the usual detached kind of look. No, this time, it felt like something more. Something that tugged at you, made your chest tighten in a way that was impossible to ignore.

"I've heard she's kissed just about everyone in the division. Wanted to see what the hype is all about," You tried again, "Have you tried it?"

Finally, Aki spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't kiss my coworkers. If it was just fun, then why are you still talking about it?"

You stumbled in your step, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice a little unsteady. "Maybe I just wanted to see if it would get a rise out of you."

What the fuck.

Why did I just say that?

Aki didn't look at you, but you could feel the slight shift in his posture. His shoulders tensed, just a little, as if he were trying to suppress something. "And what would you do if it did?"

"I don't know," you said, a little too quickly. "I just wanted to see if I could get you to show some... something. You know? Anything. You're always so cold towards me."

Aki was quiet for a moment, his jaw tightening as if he were holding something back. "You're a pain in the ass."

You almost laughed at that, a little breathless. "Yeah, I know."

But there was still something there. Something in the way he'd said it—something just beneath the surface. You weren't sure if it was jealousy, but it was definitely something. Aki wasn't being completely himself, and it was enough to make your heart beat just a little faster. But you weren't sure if it was what you thought it was.

"Did it work?"

Aki suddenly stopped walking, and you nearly collided with him. He turned to face you, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch. "Don't start up again. You're drunk."

You smiled, a little too wide, too tipsy to care. "I'm not that drunk," you said, though the slur in your words gave you away.

Aki's eyes narrowed just slightly, his expression unreadable. "You're still making me walk you home."

You shrugged, too giddy to care. "Yeah, guess so. I'm... not really in any shape to walk by myself."

He muttered something under his breath, a faint exhale through his nose that could have been a laugh, but it wasn't. It was something else. "You're lucky I'm not putting you in a cab."

You grinned at that, though you felt a twinge of something you couldn't quite explain. "You're just saying that 'cause you're being nice tonight."

Aki shot you a quick glance. For a moment, the playful banter fell away, and there was an unexpected quiet between you. You both kept walking, the sound of your footsteps the only thing filling the space between you. It was hard to tell if anything had changed, but it felt different somehow. The weight of the night was still there, but there was something new, too—a strange kind of closeness.

You turned to look at him again, but this time, the words caught in your throat. You didn't want to ask him, not now, not when you didn't know if it was a mistake.

But then, in a flash, you tripped.

Your heel caught on the uneven pavement, and you felt your body lurch forward. Before you could even react, Aki was there, his hand gripping your waist with surprising gentleness, steadying you before you could fall.

"Careful," he muttered, though his tone was almost... softer than usual.

He's so hot.

He's so hot and I'm tired of hiding it, you thought. Why do I want him?

Fuck! He's such an asshole.

"I'm fine," you said, shaking it off with a breathless laugh. "I'm just a mess tonight."

Aki didn't respond, but you felt his hand tighten around you just a little. The next thing you knew, he had shifted, his arm going around your waist and lifting you effortlessly over his shoulder.

"Hey!" you protested, half-laughing, half-protesting. "Put me down, asshat!"

Aki didn't even glance at you as he started walking again, his tone dry but with a hint of something else beneath it. "You can barely walk straight."

You grinned, a little more giddy than you should have been. "You're gonna hurt yourself!"

"Relax," He sighed. Still, he handled you with a dizzying ease. Like you didn't weigh anything at all.

I knew he was strong, but...

"Do you work out?" You spat out.

He didn't respond, his steps measured and steady, though there was something... different.

"Of course I do," He answered, like that should have been obvious. "Never know when I'll have to carry a drunk idiot back to their apartment."

His posture was firmer than usual, and for a split second, you could have sworn there was a small, satisfied edge to his voice. Maybe you weren't imagining it.

The night was still strange, but as Aki carried you through the darkened streets, you couldn't help but wonder just how much of this was real—and how much was a game you both were playing without even realizing it.

Aki carried you up the three blocks with the same steady pace, his grip around your waist unwavering as the night air nipped at your skin. Each step he took was deliberate, his posture firm, almost casual as though carrying you wasn't the slightest bit out of the ordinary. But you could feel his muscles shift under the weight of you, his body solid against yours, and it was hard to ignore how easy he made it look.

For a moment, it felt like the entire world had faded out—just you, him, and the soft thud of his footsteps on the pavement.

The dark streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the sidewalk as you glanced at the city around you. Aki's pace didn't falter as he walked, but you were still aware of how close you were to him, how warm the space between you had become. It was like there was an invisible tension that grew the further you got to your building, one that neither of you could shake, no matter how casual the night seemed.

You shifted on his shoulder, trying to adjust, but the dizzying sway made you a little unsteady. "You really don't have to carry me, you know," you muttered, half-laughing at the absurdity of it all. "I'm not a child."

Aki didn't respond immediately. His fingers tightened just a little, a firm grip that told you he wasn't letting go until you were safely where you needed to be. Finally, he let out a quiet breath and murmured, "You're acting like one."

You rolled your eyes, but it wasn't like you could do anything about it. You were too comfortable in his hold, too grateful for how effortlessly he was handling the situation. "Okay, Dad, fff-fuck you."

You really needed to learn how to hold your own liquor.

"Not my fault you need someone to take care of you when you drink," Aki muttered, but the words held a different meaning. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or just your imagination, but there was something softer, almost protective in his tone. The walls he usually kept up were still there, but they were cracked just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something else.

Before you knew it, the three blocks had passed, and Aki had stopped right in front of your apartment building. He gently set you down on your feet, but you wobbled as soon as your heels hit the ground.

"Careful," Aki said, his voice low but with an undercurrent of concern.

You gave a half-hearted attempt at standing straight, but it was futile. "I'm fine," you muttered, your fingers fumbling for your keys in your purse. The alcohol was still buzzing in your head, making it hard to concentrate, but you finally felt the familiar cool metal of the key between your fingers. "Just—just give me a second."

Then, you dropped the damn thing. It fell to the floor with a frustrating clatter. With a groan, you bent over, plucking them off the ground and–

For a moment, you could have sworn you saw his eyes lingering on your backside.

No, it's just a trick of the light, you thought, I'm fucking plastered.

Still, it made you straighten up a little faster than you probably should have, locking eyes with him as you regained your balance. His expression was unreadable, but you didn't miss the way his lips tightened slightly, like he was keeping himself in check. Or maybe it was just his usual lack of interest. Either way, the tension between you two wasn't lost on you.

"Thanks for walking me, Captain," you said, trying to brush it off and make light of the moment. You threw in a sloppy salute, the gesture clumsy and half-hearted. You weren't even sure why you'd done it. Maybe to break the silence. Maybe because you needed to be something other than nervous.

Aki raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You really trying to salute me now?"

You just grinned, more out of awkwardness than anything else, and straightened yourself up again. "It's the least I can do. I'm lucky I didn't trip over my own feet the whole way."

He rolled his eyes at your antics, but there was something softer in his gaze as it met yours. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the way the moment had lingered, but something felt a little different, like the usual distance between you both was starting to shrink.

Neither of you spoke for a beat, the silence hanging heavy in the air. You couldn't help but feel the weight of it. You knew you were both trying to act like this was just another night—nothing special, just a little drunk and out of place—but there was something in the quiet. Maybe it was the way Aki was standing a little closer, or how his usual guarded expression had softened, just a little, in a way you weren't used to.

You finally broke the stillness, desperate to fill the void. "You know," you started, your voice just a little slurred, "You're not as bad as you act."

Aki's eyes flicked over to you, his gaze narrowing in that familiar, assessing way. But you could've sworn there was a slight glimmer in his eye, something you couldn't quite read. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You grinned, not entirely sure what you were saying, but the words felt right. "You're actually kind of... cool, under all that grumpy, 'I hate everyone' thing you have going on."

Aki didn't respond right away. Instead, he just stared at you for a moment, like he was weighing the meaning of your words. You weren't sure if you meant it or not, but there was a certain honesty in the moment that you couldn't ignore.

"You don't know what you're saying," he finally muttered, his voice lower than usual, but not in the usual sarcastic way. He was almost... mellow, in a way you hadn't expected.

For a split second, you considered what he said—how he didn't shrug it off immediately, how his expression hadn't closed back up. It wasn't a compliment, not really, but it was something that almost felt like one.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet. "No, really. You're really cute when you're not being an asshole."

Why did I say that? Why did I say that? Why did I say that?

Oh, my god, You winced the moment the words left your lips. You were astronomically fumbling tonight – a feeling that made your whole face flush when you realized what you had said.

Aki said nothing at first. Instead, he just stared at you, his gaze a little too intense, like he was trying to read you, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in your head. You could feel the weight of his silence, his eyes on you, steady but unreadable.

Your heart was pounding, and all you could think about was how stupid you must have looked. You needed to get away from this, away from him, before you embarrassed yourself even more.

But before you could come up with an excuse to leave, Aki spoke again, voice slow and calculated, the usual bite of sarcasm absent. "Fuck you."

It didn't sound like a harsh retort. It didn't even sound annoyed. It sounded almost... amused. Like he wasn't angry, just a little perplexed by you. And you hated how that single, simple phrase made your heart race. You wanted to get away from the tension building between you two, but the magnetic pull only seemed to draw you closer.

"You'd be a hell of a lot cuter if you just... shut the hell up once in a while," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no filter, no hesitation this time, just the raw honesty that came from being tipsy and irritated by how much you'd been holding in all night.

Aki didn't respond at first. His lips barely moved, but you noticed the subtle shift in his expression. Something in his eyes changed, a flicker of something almost... warm? Maybe it was just the alcohol messing with your mind, but you swore you saw it—his usual guardedness faltering, just a little.

You were standing there, staring at him, feeling that rush of warmth in your chest. There was something in the air, something electric and charged. The proximity between you two felt suddenly so close—and it wasn't just the alcohol making your head spin anymore. It was something else, something real.

You wanted to say something else, something to break the silence, but the words got caught in your throat. You could smell him now, that subtle, comforting scent of him that had always been there, but tonight it felt sharper, more intoxicating. His cologne mixed with the warmth of his skin, and it made your thoughts scatter, dizzy and disoriented.

Before you could stop yourself, your body was moving. You weren't sure why, but it was like something inside of you had completely snapped. You wanted him closer, wanted that distance between you erased.

You didn't think. You just acted.

You stumbled toward him, your hand reaching up without hesitation. In one swift movement, you grabbed him by the tie, yanking him down toward you. He was caught off guard for just a second, but his eyes never left yours. You could feel the tension radiating between you as you pulled him closer, your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to break free.

His breath hitched just barely, his body stiffening for the slightest moment, before he relaxed. The shift was subtle, but it was enough for you to notice. The air around you both thickened, the silence stretching between you until it felt suffocating.

Aki didn't speak. He didn't even try to stop you. He just stood there, still and silent, waiting for whatever you were about to do next.

And then, before you could talk yourself out of it, before you could think of all the reasons why this was a bad idea, you kissed him.

a/n: muaaahahaha.... MUAUAAAAAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!! OH MY GODDD AGRHJDSBG i fucking loved writing that last part. i know, hate me all u want for blue balling you. yall know i wont keep u waiting too long tho xx. (jk its a slow burn so i will). (at least the romance aspect is. the smutty aspect? maybe not). please please please let me know what yall thought in the comments, i love love love reading everything you guys have to say. seriously. yall have made my whole entire week LMFAOAOAO. im so glad u love this story as much as i do!! new update should be out soon (not as soon as this one was but who knows we'll see bc im an attention whore and u guys fw this story). ily all xx

credits: einruji__ on twitter . I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | pornstar ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #csm x reader #aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki x reader #chainsaw man x reader #aki smut #aki fluff

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evolnoomym · 9 hours ago

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Valentine, Texas 💌🌹

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: The first date with your neighbor falls on Valentine’s Day.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 1.2k

Authors note: Hello MoonSlut’s, this little treat is for the wonderful writing challenge hosted by @msjarvis @i-own-loki @happypedrohours 🩷 It’s also a follow up to “Good Neighbor 🚚” so if you haven’t read that, check it out as well <3

Also biggggg thanks to both @joelmillerisapunk & @sunshineispunk for beta reading. 🫂❤️

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, Moon as always, food, a sprinkle of OC backstory (based off of real events), let’s pretend it’s warm in February in Texas, teasing, hinting to previous smut, Joel is a perv but also a gentleman, age-gap, Mama Mia is mentioned once and then never again, fluff. If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics for the dividers ❤️

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🫶🏻

You are in the middle of unpacking yet another box filled with more clothes, when there is a knock at your front door. You look through the peephole, it’s Joel, so of course you open.

“Hello Neighbor,” you smile cheekily remembering the events from the previous day, whilst leaning against the door.

“Good Mornin’, hope ya slept well,” now he’s matching your expression, probably thinking of the same thing.

“Wanted to know if ya would like to have breakfast at mine, since, you know, you don’t really have a kitchen.” Suddenly he seemed all shy and nervous, looking at the ground and rubbing his neck.

“It would be an honor to have breakfast with you, Joel.” you step closer to him, touching his arm gently.

“Can I kiss ya?” He asks.

“Please,” you give him the green light and he presses his lips to yours in an instant.

He leads you over to his place and you settle into the seat at his dining table. Joel served you a delicious omelette with Feta cheese, onions, and topped with Parma ham. To your delight, the food is accompanied by a freshly brewed coffee and a herb peach tea infused with chamomile. 100% princess treatment.

When both of your plates are cleared, you and Joel easily fall into conversation.

“So, tell me darlin’, what brought you here?” He sips his Black coffee. “I assume s’ your first apartment by yourself?”

“Yes it is,” you bob your head “It’s difficult to explain everything but I guess I can try to summarize.”

Joel can tell by the way you get quiet that this is hard. “Baby, you don’t have to tell me.” He knows that reassurance is what you need right now.

“No, it’s okay, I think maybe speaking about it can help.” You nod to yourself.

“I was in a deep depression for 2 years, in that time my…” You sigh. “Mother went insane.”

“She started believing in all sorts of wild conspiracy theories and lost herself in that world. I don’t know this person anymore, whoever she was is gone. Apparently she stopped paying rent, without my knowledge, and one day I was awoken by loud banging on the door and that was it.”

“They kicked ya out?”

“Yes, I was in shock. I could only laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.” And you laugh now too while recalling those traumatic moments.

“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been.”

“I try to see good in it, I would have probably never gotten out of there.”

“Moon, ya are incredibly strong for surviving all of this.” He grasps your hands.

“Thank you Joel,” you whisper and wipe away some stray tears.

Luckily, he stirs the conversation to more pleasant topics.

“Okayyyy, let’s talk about somethin’ else, what d’ya like to do in your free time?”

“I love photography.”

“You do?”

“Mhm, I love capturing the beauty in simplicity,”

“Would ya ever show me those pictures?”

“Of course I would.”

He smiles giddily before it’s replaced by a frown.

“You know, we did it all wrong,” he suddenly says and you look at him curiously.

“I mean, I should’ve taken ya out before…” Joel Miller blushing might be the cutest thing ever, “you know.”

You laugh. „Oh, yes, I know,”

“But then, wasn’t this our first date?”

“Excuse me,” he scoffs, “this was not our first date, I’ll be damned if breakfast goes down as our first date.”

“Well, I think the breakfast was already pretty good,” you shrug.

“No, pretty girl, I’m gonna make it more special.”

“Okay and when?”

Joel takes a moment, to deter the best time.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is…”

Joel finishes the sentence for you, “Valentine’s Day, yeah, I know.” He gives you a cheeky smile.

“Mooni, would ya want to be my Valentine?”

No one had ever asked you to be their Valentine, yet here is this stunning man and he wants you. You’re overwhelmed with happiness, having found something good after all these years.

“Ahh, yes, I’d like to your Valentine, Mr.Miller.”

You lean over the table and kiss him with urgency.

The next day, you get ready for whatever surprise Joel has planned for you.

You put on minimal makeup, wine-red lingerie, a black blouse and a simple plaid skirt.

After you spritz a bit of your vanilla perfume on your neck, there’s a knock at your door. It’s Joel in all his glory. When you whip open the door, his jaw drops open at your beautiful appearance. He went with a plain simple outfit but not any less enticing. You think he looks super sexy in his black T-shirt and those dark washed jeans.

You kiss him. “Hi! Happy Valentine’s Day, Texas.”

“Ya ready, pretty girl?” He asks as he holds out his hand.

“Lead the way Joel,” as you put your hand in his.

He opens every door for you up until you are seated in his truck. His hand on your thigh. You could get used to this.

After 30 minutes, you arrive at the destination and find out that what Joel had planned was watching a movie at the local Drive-In Theater.

Joel parks, tells you to stay put, and gets out to prepare the bed of his truck. After 5 minutes, he opens your side of the car, leading you by the hand. There’s a bunch of soft blankets, pillows, some snacks he must’ve brought and 2 cans of Vanilla Coke.

“Oh my god, Joel, this looks amazing. Thank you, this is the best Valentine’s Day and first date I’ve ever experienced.” You turn to him and lean up to kiss him.

“Baby, any good man should’ve treated ya like this.” He momentarily gets mad at those other guys for not treating you with the respect you deserve.

“Okay, come on let’s lay down. Get comfy.” He helps you onto the bed and then snuggles in beside you. Mama Mia starts playing, in the beginning you really try to pay attention but that turns into a make out session with Joel. The kisses are sloppy, his tongue exploring your mouth, teeth clacking together and the air only leads you two in short huffs. Your hands are all over him, however now paying certainly more attention to his swelling length.

You know he probably wants to fuck but you have a little surprise to make it more interesting.

You pull away, Joel begrudgingly parts ways with your pillowy lips.

“Listen, since we are doing this the old-fashioned way, it would be scandalous to have sex on the first date.” You have to fight laughing at how Joel’s face falls, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“But, you know, I still have a gift for you, since it’s Valentine’s Day and all.” You smile at him sweetly.

“Go on,” words he regrets immediately when you start unbuttoning some buttons of your blouse. Until the wine-red lacy lingerie hugging your chest beautifully comes into view. He’s fucked, you play dirty games.

You make it worse when you grab his hand, slide it under your skirt till he feels the matching lacy thong. He closes his eyes as if in pain and grunts. He pulls his hand away though.

“Ugh, baby, s’ gonna be hard, but if ya wanna wait that’s fine with me.”

Then he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“The way I see it, bein’ patient, makes the reward jus’ so much better,” a dark chuckle tickles your ear, “and I promise ya I will wreck you for bein’ such a tease, naughty girl.”

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

💌: @thundermartini @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @toxicanonymity @penvisions @604to647 @pinkypromisepascal @mountainsandmayhem @msjarvis @syd-djarin @burntheedges @i-own-loki @happypedrohours

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x oc #joel miller Valentine’s Day #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fandom #happypedrohours #bouquetsofpedrochallenge #My writing #Mina’s Writing

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mistymoth · 1 month ago

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Me: “I shouldn’t read comments anymore 😮‍💨”

*reads a few more chapters… scrolls to the comment section*

#why do people want characters to die if they have a flaw?#why is it ‘have a redemption arc or perish?’#why can characters have depth?#if every character was perfect i would scream for all eternity #but that’s what the comments want and it’s wild that they seem to think only 2 or 3 characters don’t deserve any sort of sympathy ever #how do these people leave there house?? do they hear someone say a swear irl and think ‘jail for a thousand years!!’???#*their 😑#siiiigh…#characters don’t have to be great to be great #i need to stop reading commeeents 😭😅#vent post #i am once again talking about manhwas

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match-your-steps · 4 months ago

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just read a review of the lego movie from 2014 and it is genuinely a horrible piece of literature and through perusing the comments underneath the review, I have gained an intense dislike of the reviewer. it's not even that I liked the lego movie and he didn't it's just that a lot of the stuff he says is factually incorrect, really stupid-sounding, or he doesn't provide any real reason, and in the comments, he reacts to even the friendliest and politest constructive criticism as if it's a personal attack on him.

#listen I DON'T CARE THAT YOU DIDN'T LIKE THE MOVIE #I mean I'm slightly saddened because I did like it #but he straight-up says it's fully actual physical stop-motion animation at the beginning (factually incorrect)#then later says you won't appreciate the movie unless you like lego a lot and know all about it #specifically saying 'if you can tell the Lego Wild West town from its pirate ship from its spaceman set' (direct quote)#like um idk bro... are you saying you can't???#also this does insinuate that there is one specific set for each of these #which is also factually incorrect but I'm not really mad about that #and then in the comments he kept trying to defend himself by saying stuff about how the movie has a 90%ish rating on rotten tomatoes #and therefore 10% of people didn't like the movie #which is actually. an insane oversimplification of statistics. that's like saying if there are 10 children with an average of 4.5 apples #per child and each child can have a maximum of 5 apples #then 9 of the children must have 5 apples and the other 1 must have none #the 90% in fact includes a large number of people who rated it at 3.5-4.5 stars which is means a lot of them really actually did like it #and just didn't think it was the best movie ever ever in existence or maybe they just had some small qualm with it #the final straw was that someone left a very nice very kindly written piece of constructive criticism asking if maybe the reviewer would #consider saying what about the humor he didn't like (or what kind of humor it was) next time so that the viewer would know whether they #would like it or not as well and I read this and thought 'surely he will respond courteously to at least this one' and he said.#basically 'it's not that the kind of humor didn't suit my tastes. it just wasn't funny'#WHAT THE FREAK #WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT #ALL THIS GOING ON AND ON ABOUT WRITING A NEGATIVE REVIEW BECAUSE IT'S YOUR ACTUAL OPINION AND NOT BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO BE CONTRARY #BUT I THINK YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT AN OPINION IS??????#it's MY opinion that it was funny #it's YOUR opinion that it wasn't #you don't get to arbitrarily say that the only reason you disliked the humor was because it was 'bad'#even ethics aren't this black and white #there was another thread where a commenter pointed out that the reviewer seemed to assume there was such a thing as a universal definition #of a good movie and he repeatedly refused to explain himself. like in an 'are you stupid. this isn't worth my time' way #but I won't get into that

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yoru-exe · 1 month ago

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PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . call my name

as overly formal and unnecessary as it sounds, the amphoreus' hero has always been lord phainon to you. while it comes with great honour and respect, much like how it applies to your master; lady aglaea, it feels like there's a barrier between you and him, and he doesn't really like that, considering that he'd like to know you better, closer.

so naturally, he revels in making you drop the honourary title, and the best way to make you do so (based on his countless personal experiments of trial-and-error, which he very much enjoyed) is to catch you off guard. shock you enough to make you forget all about the formality, enough to make you see him not as just amphoreus' hero, but as phainon himself.

one of the times that happened was when you found a lost little girl in the wood. so you asked around the village nearby if she's familiar. you were starting to get some leads when you stumbled upon an elderly man who commented, "my, what lovely family you three look".

"no, we're not-".

"well, thank you so much, good sir. unfortunately, they're not family members. we're actually looking for this child's parents. although i'd like to note that i do look forward to starting a family with this woman".

"phainon!".

of course, that's just one method of making you fall into his plan. there's trill in guessing how you'll react. the blush that never fail to paint your face rosy red always manage to make him fall deeper for you. but nothing made him completely weak than you calling his name consciously out of your own choice.

not even mydei's hardest punch to his gut could do as much damage as you do in this situation.

he was looking at the moon one night all alone when you appeared beside him. "someone seems busy with his thought. would he be so generous to share?", a teasing tone laced your words, making him chuckled. you always seem to know how to calm his nerve when it's going wild.

"just.. thinking about the battle to come. do you think we'll make it this time?". from the hill you're standing on, the ruins around the perimeter glowed under the moonlight. the destruction they faced was unmistakable. from the way he sympathetically shifted his gaze upon them, you guessed that perhaps it's from his previous battle, one that you didn't embark together with, one that he failed.

without warning, you took his hand in yours, caressing circles on the scars on it, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "of course we will, because you have me by your side", you announced pridefully, so full of confidence that it felt contagious on him. "and you by mine, phainon".

you voice was so low, as if a whisper of a mother soothing her crying child, or a girl confessing to her lover of her affection. but he heard you loud and clear.

although, he felt like he needed you to repeat that again because his system was in a mess from you saying his name that he didn't get to savour it to its fullest.

"no, that only come once".

safe to say that he spent the rest of the night begging that you call his name like you just did. but where's the fun in a challenge if you just give him what he wants?

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

this is kinda silly, but someone implied that phainon isn't as innocent as what we originally thought he would be did something to my brain chemistry. and you know what? good for him. this man needs some fun before he d***

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #phainon #phainon x reader

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cheer-nympho · 3 months ago

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Steve was always being brushed off when he asked people to read things aloud for him,

In middle school his assigned partner for their ‘Frankenstein’ project gave him a scornful glare and ignored him when he had asked them to read the passages aloud.

In his sophomore year, he’d turned to ask Robin Buckley to read a old newspaper article about the ‘Wild West’ to him, because he couldn’t make it out through the fonts and weird words. She had fixed him with a cold look but before she could respond, Tammy was tapping his shoulder offering her help.

Then, while studying with Nancy and Barb at lunch, Steve had asked for help reading study cards. His own study cards. The paper was too bright and the squiggles too squiggly. Both of them had looked at him, them each other, clearly trying to decide if it was a joke.

Barb had scoffed under Nancys pointed look and gone back to her own notes. And while Nancy hadn’t read them out for him, she had handed him her own notes on some nice blue and yellow cards. It took him a while, but he could read them. Maybe she thought he hadn’t wrote any.

After that, he went a long time without asking anyone to read him things. Turns out that once you graduate, reading isn’t much of an issue. He’d gotten by just fine by looking at his Archie comics and ignoring the swirling lines of articles surrounding them.

He didn’t need to ask again until Scoops Ahoy. For a cheap, overly themed ice cream parlour there sure was a whole lot of memorising and reading to be done. He couldn’t see the charts properly, couldn’t really make out the dates on the tubs in the freezer. But every time he asked Robin for help, her frown would deepen and deepen until she just snapped. It hadn’t been that mean, really. Just an annoyed yell followed by accusations of being lazy, her not understanding how he managed to graduate, one last comment of him being a ‘bumbling idiot’.

After the Russians, she never said anything like that to him again. And she always did the inventory and lists for him.

It takes until summer, 1987, for anyone to read aloud to Steve. They were laying across Eddie’s new bed in comfortable silence.

Steve had his legs dangling off the edges as Eddie leant back against him, legs pointing up against the wall in a way he swore was actually comfortable. He had been reading a new book called “Spellfire” and he couldn’t seem to put it down.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your book about?”

“This? Well I…Not sure it’s really your thing, man.”

“Maybe.” He goes back to reading. “I could see if it’s my thing?”

Eddie twists his head sideways to look up at Steve with a slightly confused face. “You wanna borrow it?”

“Was thinking you could read it.” He fiddled with the pocket of his jeans in a hopefully casual and not freaking out way. He didn’t look at Eddie as he waited, but after a few moments he responded.

“Sure. That’s fine, yeah. Want me to start over or go from here?”

“From there is good.”

And it was good, it was really really good. Steve hadn’t been able to read a book since middle school, hadn’t really tried again after that. But as he lay back and let Eddie’s voice wash over him he couldn’t help feeling that he’d been missing out.

Sure, it actually wasn’t really his thing, but the way Eddie read aloud painted such a clear picture that Steve enjoyed it anyway. The other would change his voice slightly for different characters and added emotions into his speaking. If it was a tense moment, he’d go slow and add gaps in just the right places. If it was fast paced he’d speed up and get more and more manic until the action cut off. He felt like he was reading along. Felt like he could see the pages in the book, but also the characters and the dungeon they were combining through.

So, for the first time Steve hadn’t been brushed off. He had probably found the only person he knew who could turn reading a book into a performance. One he would happily be seated for every night.

From then on, new books turned up at the trailer every week, Steve not far behind.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #stobin #dyslexia #dyslexic steve harrington #fic #mini fic #writing #hcs #my writing

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carbonfiction · 3 months ago

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Irrevocably mine

Worst!Wolverine x reader

summary: Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. somedays, it just gets too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. it makes him nothing short of desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading, unsatisfied and unhappy until he has you closer than close.

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI- Needy worst!Logan, f! Receiving oral, oral on couch?fingering, mentions of bodily fluids (cum and spit) cum eating?(Technically?? S' just suckin on fingers), not sure if this classes as free use?? teeny tiny bit of face slapping, swearing.. he's a little pussy drunk here i cant lie.. But uhh think thats it??

Masterlist words: little over 1.8k

Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. The mingled scent of your perfume and shampoo on the bedsheets, on his clothing, a sweet fragrance that seems to follow him around the house even in your absence.

Somedays he can quell the feelings down in his gut until its nothing more than a dull ache, like a muscle overstrained. other times it'll grow, festering in his bloodstream until his body thrums with need.

And Somedays.. Well. Somedays get too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. It boils over until he's nothing but desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading as he follows you around, unsatisfied and unhappy until he's inside you- has you closer than close.

Today had been one of those boiling over days. He'd felt it stir from the moment he'd awoken with you snuggled into him, head pushed so far into the crook of his neck it was a wonder you could breathe as you planted gentle kisses across his skin.

Logan pushed the feeling down as you showered together, trying his best to ignore your soapy nakedness and wandering hands, a casual intimacy, as you gently washed him and his hair the same way he always did for you.

He continued his restraint as he'd spent the majority of his day with Wade and his incessant jabbering mouth. But Logan could still feel the ache inside grow, his clothes sitting uncomfortable on his skin, even with half a mind on helping his begrudged friend "fix up a shelf"

*in other words, it was one of Wade's horrible excuse to get logan in his house holding power tools. Making lewd; only-things-wade-would-come-up-with level comments until logan would threaten to shove his claws so far down Wade's throat that he'd be classified as a kebab*

But what really pushed Logan over the edge was when he'd gotten home to the sight of you laid out on the couch reading a book while only wearing one of his flannel shirts with some panties. A usual outfit for you around the house really, but it never stopped driving him wild. The way the of the fabric framed your skin in the soft setting sunlight stirred away at him until his clothes really became uncomfortably constricting.

He needed you, needed to be beside you, above and below you. To finally let your scent consume him whole. He wanted to beg, to plead for you to use him for your pleasure. It was like witchcraft the way you rendered him so pent up by merely existing in his life, like an angel of pure sin had fallen from the sky right into his arms.

His steps were swift as he came to a stop in front of the sofa, jacket thrown haphazardly somewhere in the hall. Your eyes break from the book in your hands as yours meet his, your legs now the only barrier to taking a seat. Within seconds, Logans hands gently lift the soft expanses of your lower legs, a smile appearing on both your faces as he sits.

At first he makes no moves, tells you to keep reading while his hands just simply trace and massage patterns into your limbs, enjoying a comfortable silence. You don't seem to notice how his eyes roam hungry against your dressed form or the chubby bulge that sits heavy in his jeans.

His rough hands slowly walk higher until they find their way under the fabric of your- his- shirt, your thighs soft; doughy and warm in his large palms. And yet his moves don't alarm you, don't break your trance to the page your so taken by in that damn book.

He thinks you don't feel the way his broad body shifts you with him, subtly lowering himself to the carpet until he's practically between your legs. He thinks you don't see the look in his eyes, shining with hunger and need.

Truthfully you see it all, practically felt the growing heat of the fire inside him from the moment he walked in, but you know what he needs from you so you continue to read, letting him believe you don't know.

You make no move when his head dips down, scuffed cheeks moving up from your ankles as he plants gentle kisses. Your stillness burns the flames inside higher, craving acknowledgement, wanting to devour you, but he knows no matter how engrossed in something you are you'd stop him if you didn't want it to happen.

Logan takes his time until he's just above your knees, then, he shifts again, now fully kneeling on the carpet. Your legs placed over broad shoulders. his hands roaming, pushing up the fabric until it rests just above your pubic bone.

His thumb finds your clit over delicate cotton and lace, a teasing pressure that makes you suppress a shudder. Its calculated, barely there and absolutely not enough but it still manages to spark pleasure.

And pleasure given by Logan was like ecstasy.

But, to your surprise, itstays like that for a while; him doing nothing more than planting little nips and kisses to your thighs and lavishing his tongue along the steadily drenching gusset of fabric. Spit aiding the wetness until they press translucent against your slit.

There's a heat in your own gut that builds from his movements, one that has you relenting the little strength you had to ignore him. the exchange so far wordless. But the moment the book hits the couch and your fingers finally entangle in his hair, finding his signature tufts and tugging gently, things shift. The brown strands are soft between your fingers as he lets out a quiet groan, finally speaking up in an intoxicating rumble "gonna let me taste you properly princess? Please.. I need it, been waiting all day to taste you"

For a moment you consider denying him, tease him a little longer, but the embers that burn in his gaze stop you in your tracks. A softly murmured 'yeah' fills the air and as quick as it leaves your lips his own dip, finding the dampening fabric of your underwear and inhaling.

One heavy adamantium arm lies dormant over you, palm splayed on your lower stomach, doing little more than pressing down your hips whenever you even attempt to wriggle for more. The other switches between pawing against your covered tits and holding one of your hands tight.

You squirm under him, sticky and wet as you allow him to choose his pace. Letting him take what he needs so desperately from you, allowing him his time to conduct his main goal; to taste your cum soaked cunt on his tongue like a spoonful of the finest honey.

"Got the sweetest little pussy.. could die happy down here" his eyes make contact with yours as he speaks making you whine. Something in the way they darken when talking about your cunt sending a shooting jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Logan slips his hand from yours until it sits right on the side of your inner thigh. Fingers coming up the middle of the soggy material before he hooks them, pulling them aside and baring you fully unrestricted to him.

"There she is.." he mumbles, lips immediately finding your puffy clit and sucking softly. His tongue flicking against the pulsing bud and paired with the constant suction of his mouth it draws the littlest mewls from your lips; quiet gasps of obscenity.

He spits then, lust blown eyes locked to your puffy cunt, his thumb a steady pressure on your bud as he rubs the saliva in tight circles. A groan as he observes how your empty hole clenches around air, slick arousal mixed with spit drooling down to your ass. "Lookacha fuckin' drooling all over me already.. What a needy princess"

You don't get the chance to respond- to tease him for his own need- what with how his mouth latches back over your pussy. A jumble of sounds filling the room, half sloppy and wet from the way logan laps at you, the other mewls, moans and whimpers as the feeling of your orgasm builds in your gut.

"F-feels so good.... Don't stop, please don't"

If anyone knows how to eat pussy, its Logan. His ability to eat pussy- to eat your pussy- is beyond any man you'd ever been with. You suppose its all in the years, experience built in his time, but its not like you have the capacity to really ponder its origins right now; not with the gusto he's sucking and savoring you with.

"L-Lo.. Fuck- s-so close" you breathe, whiney moans bubbling from your chest as your back arches on the cushion. They grow in volume with each flick and lap of his tongue. Broad strokes to precise flits, all uniquely drawing you closer, winding up the tension higher.

But what really shatters you is Logans fingers. Long and thick, enough to offer a pleasurable stretch, as his index slips just below his working mouth- sliding inside with zero resistance. He crooks it back and forth once, twice, three times before the middle slips inside as well.

You moan louder, hips thrusting down; fucking yourself on his digits as you chase the ecstasy tingling through your fingertips. The grip on his hair tight, making logan grunt and grumble as you guide his face along your dripping pussy.

"C'mon princess. Do it, cum f'me. Need it" he murmurs and the way it wetly vibrates across your clit shatters the tension in your gut, making you cum with a broken gasp. Logans mouth and fingers never stopping their delicious rhythm until tears well in your eyes, fingers desperately tugging at his hair. Your thighs beginning to close around his ears before he pulls away, a deep satisfied grin spread across his face. His beard visibly wet, cum and spit soaked.

"Fuck lo.." you giggle breathless, tugging him up from the floor practically by his hair. "Always make me feel s'good baby" the words are breathy, pressed against his lips in a wet kiss, the taste of you on his tongue.

"I like making you feel good.. Do so well for me everytime" he smirks and you feel it pressed to your lips; a blush spreading from the combination of your taste and his praise.

You kiss him lewdly, sloppy and passionate as you carefully grab his hand from your pussy and tug it up, large fingers still slick and coated in a thin creamy layer of your release. You pull back then, with a soft sinful giggle, making full eye contact with him as you open your mouth, placing those fingers on your tongue, lips closing around them like they would his cock.

The sight makes logan groan, his eyes darkened so much they are almost black. His chubbed cock leaking desperately in his now far to tight jeans. You smile, His free hand lifting to tap roughly on your cheek as they hollow around the digits teasingly. "My pretty girl and her flithy mouth.. Think we should get you something else to suck on hm?"

Save me needy logan.. Save me.. Writers block is easing up a lil so i figured I'd write something I'd enjoy as a reader?? Lemme know whatcha think! <333

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader smut #carbonsfics #worst wolverine #worst logan #logan x reader #logan wolverine

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mostly-imagines · 6 months ago

Text

I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities.

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual.

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still.

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that.

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part.

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people.

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to.

“How old were you?”

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go.

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.”

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up.

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.”

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose.

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family.

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.”

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.”

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮

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pyrodolls · 7 months ago

Note

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

OBSESSED (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER)

WARNINGS: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

A/N: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

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jaylalolz · 5 months ago

Text

,,BEST PART’’ nicholas chavez

a/n : since none of yall wanted to make a fic about this lovely man.. imma do it myself

warnings : none

summary : in an interview, actress Madelyn Kennedy reveals her celebrity crush on actor Nicholas Chavez, sparking excitement among her fans. It quickly gets attention on social media, with fans buzzing about the potential chemistry between the two.

Madelyn Kennedy adjusted her microphone and smiled brightly at the camera. The vibrant buzzed with energy as the host, Jake Harrington, settled into his chair across from her. The air was thick with anticipation, not just for Madelyn's upcoming projects, but for what might unfold during the interview.

“Welcome back to Hollywood Spotlight! Today, we have the incredibly talented Madelyn Kennedy with us,” Jake announced, his enthusiasm infectious. “Madelyn, it’s great to have you here!”

“Thanks for having me, Jake! I’m so excited to be here,” Madelyn replied, her heart racing slightly. She loved these moments, sharing her passion with fans who tuned in from all over the world.

“So, let’s dive right in! Fans are eagerly awaiting Outer Banks Season 4, which is set to premiere on October 10th. What can you tell us about it?” Jake leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Madelyn took a breath, her excitement bubbling over. “I can’t wait for everyone to see it! This season is going to be the biggest yet. We’ve really upped the stakes with the storylines. There’s more adventure, more twists, and a deeper exploration of our characters. I think fans are going to be on the edge of their seats!”

“Sounds thrilling! Any hints you can drop about what to expect?” Jake pressed, a grin spreading across his face.

“Well, without giving too much away,” she said, playfully biting her lip, “let’s just say the Pogues face some serious challenges that test their friendships and loyalty. It’s a wild ride!”

“Now that sounds like something to look forward to! But let’s switch gears a bit. On a more personal note, do you have any celebrity crushes?” Jake’s tone turned lighter, inviting her to share something more intimate.

Madelyn paused for a moment, a playful smirk creeping onto her face. “Actually, I do!” she said, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “I have a crush on Nicholas Chavez. He’s just incredible!”

The studio erupted with a mix of gasps and excited chatter, and Madelyn’s cheeks flushed slightly. She could feel the buzz of energy in the air as Jake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.“Nicholas Chavez! That’s a popular choice! What is it about him that draws you in?” Jake asked, clearly enjoying the moment.

Madelyn laughed, her confidence returning. “I mean, he’s such a talented actor. I loved his work on General Hospital and recently Monsters, and he just has this amazing energy. Plus, he seems like a genuinely nice person. What’s not to like?”

liked by madelynkennedy and 356,789 others

nicholasalexanderchavez muah

view all comments !

madelynkennedy just fainted

⤷ nicholasalexanderchavez need any help?

user the crossover we didn’t knew we needed

user wait bc they would be such a hot couple…

user madelyn forgetting that she’s on her main instead of spam LMAOO

user oh i’m living for this

user i ship

user white boy of the month

user no bc that one scene in monsters when he only had a towel on… DROP IT😫

user need him in a romcom w mads

user nicholas just pulled the baddest bitch

#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader

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rex-rambles · 1 month ago

Text

➤ COPYCAT (SMAU + FIC)

pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader

summary: Lando tries to get your attention the only way he knows how: by copying your Instagram.

wc: 5k

warnings: none :) photos from pinterest

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by lando, yourbestfriend and others

yourusername Ever considered going and touching some grass?

↳ yourbestfriend when I told you you could borrow my sandals I didn't think you'd CLIMB A TREE IN THEM

↳yourusername 😘😘😘

↳ y/nfan23 bringing a whole new meaning to tree hugger

↳ 4_the_win Lando Norris we see you lurking

Liked by oscarpiastri, quadrant, and others

lando was told to go touch grass

↳ quadrant could've tagged us??

↳ lando @/quadrant

↳ mclar_win the little car 🥺 i can't

↳ ln444 father nature

↳ brocedes 👀

Was Lando being a little on the nose? Maybe.

But he had a hypothesis, and despite the fact he hadn't been in a science class in years, he wanted to test it. You were some travel influencer, your feed filled with the kind of content that made it seem effortless, from the smiles to the outfits to your friends. It was the kind of care free that Lando couldn't help but fall for, but there was no way he would message you.

What would he say? That he thought you were pretty? That he thought you were interesting? That he was an F1 driver and obviously should get the girl in the end? There was nothing he could think to say to get this to work, so rather than approaching you, he was going to get you to approach him.

Flawless plan, obviously, and the first step was to follow you, and then make a post with similar interests. Your latest post was out in the wild with pottery to match, so Lando found some photos from the latest Quadrant shoot out in nature, and then, because he needed it to be authentic, he dragged his friends out to some play-with-clay place and made his own little clay car, like a normal, sane man.

"Can you not think so loud?" Oscar asks up at him from his position on the floor at the airport. "It's making my brain hurt."

"Do you think I'd do pottery?" Oscar blinks up at him, though Lando ignores him to refresh his likes and comments, thinking maybe, that first lure would work.

"Do I think you'd do pottery?" Oscar repeats in disbelief. "Like, as a hobby?"

"Is it believable?" The only thing, however, is he needed no one else to notice he was posting strangely. Everything had to seem like a regular, Lando Norris post to not raise suspicion. He doubted your audiences overlapped, but one could never be sure.

Oscar groans, tossing a balled-up receipt at him. "Is that about your Instagram post?" He says and Lando flips him off. Oscar returns the gesture. "I mean, sure, it's believable. People will believe anything these days."

"But am I pottery guy?"

"I've had enough of this." With that, Oscar rises and says something about finding a snack, and Lando watches him go in disbelief.

"Oscar? Am I a pottery guy?" The Australian doesn't turn around, and Lando doesn't care about causing a scene. "Oscar!"

Liked by lando, yourbestfriend, and others

yourusername out of the woods and into the mountains 😌 ↕️

↳ yourbestfriend quit being cute and come keep me warm

↳ y/nfan23 me too??

↳ user510 the prettiest!! now go get real winter boots

Liked by maxfewtrell, 4_the_win, and others

lando 🏔 🏔 🏔

↳ ln444 didn't you already post this trip??

↳ maxfewtrell ❄️ 🎯

↳ 4_the_win @/yourusername you've got a copycat

↳ user510 literally their last two posts match

You used emojis. It was a stupid detail to focus on, but Lando could totally use emojis and make it seem normal. He'd used emojis before. And, it wasn't really creepy, because you had posted a ski trip: you already actually had that in common. Wasn't anything Lando needed to fake, just posting more of his last trip, but then he had spotted the emoji, and rather than stewing over the caption, he'd posted some of a mountain.

And then that first comment rolled in. Sure, he was a copycat, but how could anyone notice that after two posts? Fans were fantastic and terrifying at the same time, somehow knowing all his personal information far before he was comfortable with it being out there. But, hopefully, you'd feel the same. Two similar posts are just a coincidence, really. He might be a copycat, but nothing out of the blue.

Then, terrifyingly, you follow him back, and Lando's heart stops.

So. You weren't exactly well-versed in the world of motorsports, so a Formula One driver following you had taken you by surprise. Plenty of famous people followed you, much to your confusion, but this just added to it. Lando was some big racer, his photos and content (not that you had found his Youtube channel and watched the last ten videos to catch yourself up with whatever it is he did) were so relaxed and yet hyper, luxuries mixed into everyday living. You had little in common, even as you scroll through all his photos. His latest is of some ski trip, similar to your own, even if you were terrible at skiing. With his athleticism, he probably fared much better than you did.

His next is some merch shoot, intermixed with a little clay car, and you can't help but smile at it, having made enough of your own little clay creations over the years to appreciate the attention to detail, right down to the little driver's helmet.

So you followed back, even if there was nothing you had in common, really. He was a new kind of adventure, and if something came of it, great, and if you just remained on the sidelines of each other's accounts, then so be it.

Liked by lando, ln444, and others

yourusername finally got some photos developed

↳ yourbestfriend those photos are so old???

↳ yourusername so are my texts you haven't answered??

↳ ln444 if Lando posts film pics...

↳ 4_the_win 👀 👀 👀

Liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, and others

lando finally got some photos developed

↳ danielricciardo if the whole racing thing doesn't work out, want to be my photographer?

↳ 4_the_win THE FILM PHOTOS!!

↳ user510 @/yourusername

↳ ln444 they're lurking too!

↳ y/nfan23 not everything is connected 🙄

↳ ln444 the captions are the exact same

He liked taking photos! So what if they were film? So what if you had just posted film photos? So what if he used the same caption? So what if you liked the post and made Lando stare at his phone for about an hour, willing you to message him? That was normal behaviour. He was just a photographer, really, with a massive crush on someone who did not know he existed and probably thinks he's creepy for posting all the same photos as them. He needed to get a grip, but he didn't really have time for that.

Actually, he had all the time in the world right now, but he wanted to pretend that he didn't. To film an advertisement for them, Hilton was giving him and his friends a free week in Bora Bora, which so far had been an incredibly serene experience, giving him ample time to stew over whether or not he was wasting his time, whether he should just ask you out, or whether he was being crazy.

Currently, he leans on the balcony, taking in the soft waves below him, wondering if meditating on them would take away the chaos in his brain. He was so lucky to have experiences like this, to have the job that he did, but he was only human. He could only avoid his thoughts for so long, be grateful for so much. He wanted to enjoy all that he was given, but he was finding it hard when his phone was burning a hole into his pocket.

It buzzes, and he wrenches his phone out to stare at a text from Max.

Max 🎮 🤢

get outside, now

ur going to regret it if u don't

With a sigh, Lando makes his way through their shared villa, over the clothes tossed across their little lounge floor, and he steps out onto the walkway that connects all the villas over the water, and he almost walks directly into you, and in the seconds it takes to understand that you are stood in front of him, and not hidden behind a phone secret, he thinks he might shit himself.

"This is Lando Norris!" The Hilton representative explains from your side, and the smile you send his way does something strange to his stomach. "He's also here to film an advertisement."

"You're here to film?" The words leave Lando's mouth before he can even introduce himself, and you offer a surprised look.

"Just some content, nothing major." Then, making his heart flutter more than he thought it could, "We follow each other on Instagram, right? You're a driver."

"Yeah!" He responds enthusiastically, before thinking it might seem weird. "You post travel stuff, right?" You nod, shifting the bag on your shoulder. He should probably not be distracting you, considering you just got in, and are probably jet lagged or tired or your bag is heavy, but his brain can't quite figure out how to make you interested in him while also letting you go. "Makes sense for you to work with Hilton."

Makes sense for you to work with Hilton? He could hit himself in the face with a brick, he really could. "A free place to stay never hurts! Plus they've got some great locations." You say with a laugh, and it sounds so rich in person, rather than through his phone's speakers.

"They've got a ski resort, in the States." You like skiing. He likes skiing. He's not a copycat. "It's next on my list to stay at."

"Oh yeah, I saw you went skiing. Where were you?" Oh god no.

You saw his post. That's exactly what he wanted to happen. But that also means you might've seen the comments about him copying you, and you might be bringing it up to show that you know. Or, you're just being nice and making conversation, or you're actually interested in him, and despite being fast on the track, Lando can't quite handle the speed at which his brain is working. "The, uh, Swiss Alps. Fantastic time. You...also ski."

"I do," You answer somewhat awkwardly. Of course you ski! "Not always the best at it, but I try."

"I'm not either, but I'm be more than happy to lend you some tips if you ever need." That's more charismatic, he thinks as he flashes a smile. He's salvaging what he can in a very short amount of time.

"I might take you up on that." You begin to walk away before turning back and rendering his heart still. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, I'll see you."

Lando Norris being on your first big sponsored trip was not exactly the outcome you had expected, but you weren't complaining. You may or may not had try to find him every where you went, enjoying the view of him suntanning with friends, the way his curls ran wild with both the water and humidity.

Maybe you were forming a crush on a man who you only really knew over Instagram, but none of your friends were here to judge you for it, so you allowed it. "You here with anyone?" One of Lando's friends ask, leaning beside you at the bar of the little restaurant on the resort. Lando either wasn't interested or was too awkward or shy to approach, choosing rather to bury his face in his hands. It wasn't the kind of question you wanted to answer a random man, and luckily, he seems to pick up on it. "Let me rephrase that. If you're not here with anyone, and are interested in the company, you're more than welcome to join us for dinner."

"That would be..." Lovely, really, but it seems weird to accept a stranger's invitation out of the blue, but maybe this was Lando's way of getting you to come over, and maybe this was your way of stepping out of your comfort zone. "Great, thanks."

Lando's friend leads you over to their table, where everyone shifts seats to leave the only open spot in the booth beside Lando, who even in the dimly lit restaurant light, you can tell is blushing profusely. "I'm sorry about him," He whispers as you sit. "Did he do anything?"

"Just invited me to join you for dinner, which is too kind of you. I typically solo travel, so it can get a bit lonely." All eyes at the table land on you, taking in the words you had really meant for just Lando to hear.

"You've been meaning to do some solo travelling, haven't you Lando?" His friend beside him says, playfully jabbing him in the side. Lando shoves him back with an infectious smile, and you try to ignore the implications of such a comment.

You were just some random person he followed. Wasn't anything out of the ordinary. They were just making conversation, being nice, but you can't help but dig deeper. "Oh?"

"I'd just love to travel anywhere," Lando fills in, his blush now spread to the tips of his ears. "But I'd prefer it with company."

"I get that. Friends make things better, to an extent." He shifts next to you, shoulder grazing yours, and you try not to immediately offer him company whenever he's travelling next. You were the one out of your depths here, so you focus on a fun anecdote rather than offering your time up to him. "Some trips end with us wanting to kill each other."

"I know the feeling!" Lando's friend offers over the table with a shit-eating grin. "The amount of random shit this guy pulls us along to? What was it last time, pottery?"

Pottery? Lando pulls a face and you remember the little clay car, and you slowly begin to pick up on whatever strange atmosphere his friends have created. Travel, pottery, your interests. Not his. "You do pottery?"

"I wanted to try, yeah. Made a little car." Then, he awkwardly fiddles with a fork, before asking, "Do you...do pottery?"

It's a bit too on the nose. You've showed off your pottery enough on your account that it'd be obvious, unless he wasn't interested, which was certainly an option. The other was that he didn't want you to know that he knew you liked pottery, which was a strange little mindfuck that didn't quite make sense. "I love it, it's just a great artistic outlet, though it's messy and expensive." You say slowly, taking in everyone's ravenous gazes. "I have a friend with a studio that I go visit."

"I've only ever done the cheap places." Lando says, eyes glued to the fork in hand.

"You should go visit their studio, Lando!" Another of his friends says, and Lando's head shoots up to offer an expression you don't catch. You are most certainly caught in the middle of something, and you're not sure if you like being stuck by Lando's side yet. "Make your own trophy."

"I bet you have plenty of trophies already." You interject with, and Lando turns to look at you with a raised brow. "Don't you?"

There's a pause as a waiter arrives with menus, and without much thought, Lando hands you one without any prices listed on it, before he continues. "Yeah, a good couple. I don't like to brag." It's a humble thing for a famous person to admit, though you know his social media presence says otherwise.

"Tell that to the photos you post." You say as you peer over at his menu to try and take in the prices. You were working on a travelling budget, as while the hotel might've been free, the food most certainly isn't.

"Hey!" Lando almost shouts as he smacks his menu over yours, offering a soft scowl as his friends laugh around him. You try to check one of the prices for the drinks, fingers grazing over his paper, and he folds it away. "Don't worry about paying," He says quietly, needing to lean in to be heard. "It'll make up for whatever these idiots say-"

"Lando's a good photographer, even does film and shit." The words cut through Lando's sentence, but it doesn't stop you from being one to blush now. He was paying for your dinner, which you suppose is a nice enough gesture from a millionaire. Well, you think he must be a millionaire, at least, considering the expensive clothes and the cars.

"You also use film, right?" Lando asks, still not quite authentic in his tone. It's like the whole conversation had been rehearsed, and your brain trips over the thought that Lando is trying to find things in common with you, especially considering his last posts.

"Yeah." You answer, somewhat awkwardly. "It's also expensive, but I like having tangible photos to remember trips by. Digital is great, it's my whole career, but it doesn't beat the real thing."

Lando smiles, nodding along as you talk, and you try to ignore the faces of everyone else around you as he continues. "I feel the same way." He says, fairly earnestly in answer as he drums his fingers against the wood. "Do you have a film preference?"

"Do you know the Olympus cameras? Like Olympus OM-4?"

"Uh, yeah. Totally." An obvious lie, now. You'd wish he'd say something real about himself, rather than just forcing everything on you. It was nice to be cared about, to be thought about, but at this rate? You were the star of a show you hadn't signed up for.

"Well, I just got one, and it's been great for travel, it's nice and light, but has its downsides. What do you use?" You've caught him in his lie there, and he blinks at you for a moment before realizing he can't make his way out of that one.

You watch him deflate before you, and you wonder if he puts this kind of stance on for everyone. Surely, you weren't special, you try to reason. He obviously would try to seem as interesting to as many people as possible. "Anything I can find," He states, a new, lower tone to his voice. "Lots of little disposable cameras."

"I bet that's probably easiest with all the travelling and racing. What's that like? Being an F1 driver?" You finally let him take over the conversation, and rather than becoming lively or confident again, he shrugs.

"Nothing interesting, really." You offer him an unimpressed look, and he can't help but laugh. "Fine, it's fantastic, but I don't just want to brag about myself all night. I've just been doing racing so long I'd rather talk about other things."

"How long?" You say, prying for more, and Lando's head tilts in confusion, like he couldn't understand why you'd want to know more. "How long have you been racing?"

"Well, since I was a kid." He launches into some story about his childhood racing days, and something smooths out between the two of you. It's not longer chunky or strange, like forcing puzzle pieces where they don't belong. The table seems to relax, too, attention shifting from you to watching him ramble about go-karts and competitions. It's the real Lando, you think as you watch him ball up a napkin and throw it at the guy across from him, not whatever strange being he turns into when he tries to talk to you.

You get lost in his words for awhile. You could sit here, like this, forever, just listening to him speak, and he seems to get lost in the conversation too, before catching you staring at him. He pauses, then, letting the table roar on with some old story that you don't get, and he smiles, something kind and soft and bright that makes you blush the moment you witness it. "I'm glad you joined us," He says quietly, ducking down to whisper in your ear. His face is tucked close to your neck to do so, like he was always meant to be this close to you. "And I apologize again for anything these idiots say."

"Well, thank you for having me." You whisper back, letting your head shift closer to his to say so. "I hope you know I'm going to use these stories as blackmail."

"Oh yeah?" He teases in response, letting his arms stretch above his head. Then, he lets one arm drop to rest on the booth above you, and you let yourself lean closer to his side, the move instinctual.

"For whenever I need a ride." His arm is warm pressed against your shoulders, and you remind yourself that you'd just met. You both might be interested in each other, considering the look he's giving you, but one dinner won't change anything.

"You don't need blackmail for that." He answers. "Just say the word and I'll be there."

The night passes in a blur like that, tucked close and just barely touching each other, enough distance that either of you could justify it was the drinks, or the cramped booth, nothing more. Still, it's nice to be by his side, and strangely, to not be the centre of attention. Though, every time you try to look at Lando, you find him looking at you.

On his final night there, Lando can't sleep. He's not sure if it's a mix of dread having to leave tomorrow, or the espresso martini he had that he didn't realize contained actual caffeine. Either way, it was about six in the morning, and he was wired.

Careful not to wake those in the villa around him, he slipped onto the balcony as he rubbed at his face, trying to come to his senses. It had been a fantastic trip! He had seen you around a few times, talked a few times, but nothing like dinner, where you had looked like an angel sat next to him, radiating warmth as you listened to his stories and ignored his awkward start to rather embrace his slightly alcohol-fueled ranting.

You were just a stranger. You were just someone he could totally go up to and ask out, but you were this untouchable thing in his mind. He had spent so long copying you, he was struggling to think of other ways to approach you than to match what you did, which was so far kindness at a distance.

Lando leaned against the balcony, taking in the barely rising sun on the horizon. It would be a beautiful sunrise, and as he turns to take in the rest of the villas, he finds you in the exact same position, staring out at the rising sun and wrapped in an oversized hoodie. He tries not to picture you in his merch, wrapped in the same orange of the sunrise, but it's hard not to. You'd look great in anything, he thinks, but you'd look better in his clothes.

You turn and catch his stare, offering a smile despite the distance between you. Before he can stop himself, he gestures back toward the villa, hoping you understand the gesture of meeting on the boardwalk outside. You nod eagerly and disappear back into your villa, and Lando rushes back through his, slipping on someone's sandals before leaving. It's then, stepping out onto the wooden boardwalk and watching you walk towards him that he realizes he's still in the same clothes he tried to sleep in, which is just his swim shorts, and despite the fact you'd seen each other in bathing suits the entire week, he feels strangely exposed to the world.

"Couldn't sleep?" You ask softly, and Lando nods with a yawn.

"Got to be up early to fly out anyway." He swears your expression sours, maybe because you also are up early to catch a flight, but maybe, just maybe, because you don't want him to go. He should really stop these delusions, should've stopped trying to copy you, but he can't help it. "Want to make the most of one last morning?"

"What do you have in mind?" You ask, and Lando has a good couple, but the one that would probably be the most appropriate would be to whisk you away to watch the sunrise and impress you with his boat, and the photos you could take of it. That, and he'd get some alone time, and his money worth out of the boat.

He is well aware, however, that inviting a stranger, alone, out on a boat, isn't exactly at the top of everyone's list of things to do at 6 am. "We rented a boat for the week. Sunrise probably looks better out in the water than here, yeah?"

"Yeah." He has to do a double take at your almost instant agreement, but then again, you were always up for an adventure. Plus, maybe he needs to give himself more credit as he leads you toward the dock: maybe he seems entirely trustworthy after only a few interactions. "You know how to drive this thing, right?"

Well, so much for trustworthy. "I am a professional Formula One driver, I can drive a boat." He defends as he jogs up to give himself some more momentum before jumping aboard, more of a showcase of his athletic abilities than his need to mind the minuscule gap between the boat and the dock, and you laugh up at him as he extends a hand. Yours is soft in his, and he lets it linger for just a moment too long as you examine the boat. He'd lost his mind officially, he thinks as he forces space between you to unwrap the rope tethering the boat to the dock. He takes a bit too long to do it, staring back you, draped in the orange light of the sunrise. He might not have a boat in Monaco, but considering this view?

He might just get a yacht because of you. So, yeah. Officially lost his mind. "When we crash and sink, I'm blaming you."

"When? If we crash and sink. If." He finally gets the tether untied and settles himself behind the steering wheel, starting up the engine. It's different than a car, obviously, but that doesn't stop him from playing it up, using the palm of his hand to wind the steering wheel and navigate out, not too far from the coast. You scoff softly, jostling his shoulder as you move past to lean against the railing of the ship, and Lando doesn't waste much time driving before he cuts the engine.

In the silence of the morning and the rising sun, he can't help but wonder if you can hear his heart pounding from here as he tries to think of something to say, something to do. If he was free too, he'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you, hold you close, but that's a bit too delusional and his brain a bit too sleep-deprived to really think about it, so he decides instead to sit at your feet. "See? I'm perfectly capable."

"I'd need to see your actual driving skills to believe that." Without much thought, he leans back to look up at you and his head knocks against your thigh, and your hand comes to play with his hair, and he thinks he might die, here and now. It's a view, he thinks, he'd be more than happy to die seeing.

"You should come to a race." He breaths out, almost desperate, trying to ignore the warmth of your thigh against his cheek. "There's plenty of fun travel destinations."

"I'd have to find something red, then." It goes over his head for a moment as he blinks up at you, and with a sigh, you step away, leaving Lando desperate to trail after you. Instead, however, you sit down cross-legged next to him, and before he can think to do anything, you rest your head on his shoulder with a yawn. If he thought his head on you was incredible, this? This is a fantasy that forces Lando to consider if this is all a dream. "You know, for Ferrari."

"Ferrari!" He gasps as he looks down at you, and you offer a shit-eating grin up at him. "I will toss you out of this boat. We wear Papaya, and papaya only."

"Papaya!" You echo incredulously with a laugh. "That's what you call yourself?"

"That's what we call the colour. Not orange, papaya." You'd look good in any colour, Lando fathoms, but papaya? He'd pay good money to have you in his colour and with his number, and considering how to remain on his shoulder, he might not even have to pay for it.

"Okay, papaya." You tease before slipping out your phone, pushing back to get a picture of the sunrise, and then you turn the camera toward him. Without much thought, he stares out into the water in the hopes of you getting a more candid shot, and he's not sure what he'll do if he ends up on your Instagram. Probably rub it in everyone's faces, actually. "If I say something," You begin gently, and Lando turns to look back at you. "Will you promise not to get offended?"

Not the kind of conversation he was anticipating, but he tries to play it off. "Not more than I already am. Ferrari, as if."

"I like you more when you're not trying to be someone else."

His brain short-circuits at the sentence, the words clunky in his mind as they register. You like him, first of all, but you like him more...when he's not trying to be someone else? "What?"

"I see the posts, and the comments. You don't have to try and be like me to get me to like you." Well, shit.

He tries to come up with some excuse, with some explanation, but all he can do is stare at you in the morning sun and think about how hard he'd tried to copy you, to do everything right, to get you here, and how miserably it's gone. You didn't interact with his posts, despite the fact you'd seen them. Dinner had been nothing if not fatal before you'd let him rant about racing, and now, he's out on a boat, and all this time, he didn't need any of it for you to like him.

"I wasn't..." He rubs a hand over his face before pushing back to sit next to you. "Listen, I just...you're cool."

"You're cool too." Well, yeah, but his brain didn't always let him believe that. Confidence should come easy to a man in his position, but it doesn't always. The races, the fans, the eyes, it all bottles up in a way that Lando was petrified to message you, lest his mess up, lest you post it somewhere, lest it doesn't work out.

He'd rather watch from afar and regret it than have to exist in a world where he fumbled, and everyone else saw. "But you're like, the unattainable kind of cool, so I thought if I should we had similar interests, made my posts like yours, then maybe you'd message me."

"Wait, really?" There's a small, infectious smile curling on your lips, and Lando tries to hide his own as he looks at you.

"Tell me, honestly, if I had messaged you first, would it have worked?" You don't immediately answer, offering a little shrug, and he reaches over to pull your hood up and over your eyes. You swat away his hands as you pull the hood back, but it doesn't distract from the fact that it wouldn't have worked. The only way Lando was able to be sat here beside you was, of all reasons, Hilton's sponsorship. "Exactly."

"It's sweet, in a weird way." You try and soothe, hand gently resting on his knee and offering a squeeze. "But I like you like this more."

Flushing, he knows, from ear to ear, he slips his hand into yours and lets it rest in his lap. Finally, when he can't seem to handle the intimacy, he finds a joke to crack. "What, shirtless on a boat in Bora Bora?"

"Yourself, you idiot." Your head leans back against his shoulder, talking in the sunrise, but Lando can't bring himself to look out at the view, not when the only thing worth watching is right beside him. "Don't let that go to your head."

"I won't, promise." A soft silence settles between the two of you, and Lando knows he doesn't have a lot of time. Someone is going to wake up and realize he and the boat are gone, or someone's going to be missing their sandals, or something will go wrong with the flight, but he can't really bring himself to think of anything besides seeing you again. "So, about coming to a race? Wearing papaya, specifically?"

"Fine, but only if I get a paddock pass."

"Paddock-" Lando's quick to straighten up as he turns to look at you. You weren't one for Formula One, you didn't know any of that before you'd met. Unless, of course, he wasn't the only one snooping around on Instagram. "How do you know what a paddock pass is?"

You shrug, offering a grin that Lando would have no problem kissing away, if it weren't for the fact that you'd just met. "Well, I needed to know some things about my copycat."

"Oh, shut up!" He's never going to live that down. His friends already mocked him mercilessly for it, but now you too? "Our next race is Belgium. I'll get the paddock pass and Hilton can put you up." Then, because he can't help himself, "Of course, if you come to dinner with me to celebrate."

"Confident, are we?" You shoot back, and Lando mimics your shrug from earlier.

"Well, even if I lose, I've still got dinner with you, so I'd consider that a win." You groan, smacking your forehead into his shoulder, and Lando toussles your hair. "Well?"

"Sounds like a deal."