#gif discovered from another account

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: guys... you can't tell me y'all weren't expecting this. Title from the song "Vicarious" by Tool. Really wanted this to be a one shot, but as usual, I have shit to say. Will be Cross-Posted on AO3 as soon as they open the site back up.

Warnings: Nothing Explicit YET, some sexist remarks and creepy behavior from the man of the hour, Questionable Corporate Ethics, Set Before The Events Of The Show, Reader is written to be Plus Size.

Summary: Sidekick projects have been scraped completely after numerous accidents, but as a viral video of your hero work makes rounds through the public, you're forced to take part in a six moths program, that will forever change your life, as well as Homelander's

PT.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

It all started with a video. An insignificant, minute-long nothing posted to TikTok by an account, that up until then, made short edits specifically of A-Train and some B-list no-name hero. Quickly, it gained traction, making rounds throughout the app, bleeding over to other services, all the way to national television. First, an independent local station, soon picked up by a Vaught-affiliated one. Normally, that's where it would've stayed. Stillwell would extend an offer of a chance at an interview, alongside one of the Seven. But for some unknown reason, that small piece of nothing climbed all the way up to the floor eighty-two of Vaught Tower.

Well, to be quite honest, Stillwell knew exactly why she was in this situation. After a very messy graduation speech at a small college, Homelander lost almost twenty points with a young adult demographic. It would've been an easy fix, if not for the delicate nature of the breached subject, and Madelyn knew, this sudden interest in a nobody from nowhere, who, coincidentally, fit the demographic perfectly, was anything but a happy accident. It was a test, both for Homelander, and for her.

Which is why, Madelyn Stillwell and Homelander, the Homelander, the most American supe to ever exist, are cooped up in your living room, glancing about the modest decor, as you pour iced tea into three glasses with tacky fruit print all over them.

You've refused every single invitation, every single Vaught representative that knocked on your door. Your inbox was flooded with emails, your phone number was blowing up two, three times a day. And yet, your answer remained the same. You were not interested in a collaboration, thank you for the opportunity, please leave me alone.

That wouldn't fly, not with Madelyn, who, pushed by the constant nagging from the upper levels of the Tower, decided a more direct approach was the right one. So, she dragged herself into this… Well, to be quite honest, bum-fuck-nowhere, and brought her star pupil with her. No one would refuse working with Homelander himself, after all. At least that's what they both thought.

-I appreciate the effort - there's a practiced, borderline bored intonation in your voice, and Homelander's hands flex on his thighs - But I've already talked with, um, Jerry? From HR? The answer is still no.

Your house is small, but cozy, with sunshine pouring through the windows, reflecting onto the beaded curtain hanging in the doorway to your kitchen. An artist's home, through and through. Homelander hates it, hates the ordinariness of it all. He was so much above all this, sitting on your worn down couch physically hurt him. And the smell. The smell was the worst part. Reheated lasagna, mixing with a lingering aftertaste of cigarette smoke, and an undercurrent of weed, that almost made him retch. If it weren't for that damned video, you would be nothing more, than another brainless ant under his boot.

-Well, we - Madelyn offers her best, brilliant smile, gesturing to herself and Homelander - are very passionate about discovering new talent.

Your mouth twitches into a knowing smile, and for just a second Homelander feels flames of intrigue rising in his chest. Not for long, though, because you recline back into an armchair, taking a sip of the iced tea, and his eyes flash to the way your throat moves as you swallow. You could be hot, he concludes. Young, and with a truly spectacular rack. But there was something off about you, like you were constantly on the verge of dying from boredom, some invisible weight always on your shoulders. No amount of fake smiles and high-end makeup could cover that up.

He'd fuck you. If you'd beg him.

-We want to offer you a new, revised contract - Stillwell extends her hand with a rather thick binder of papers, and you hesitate for a moment, before reaching over. - Hopefully, it will make you reconsider.

You don't even show them the decency of looking through it, placing it on the table instead, and Homelander feels an itch form itself in the corners of his eyes. Stillwell looks taken aback as well, her brilliant smile faltering for just a second. You on the other hand, take another sip of your drink, before placing it right in the middle of the contract, the moisture from the ice creating a wet circle in the paper.

Your heartbeat is even, it doesn't pick up even a smidgen, when you look between Stillwell and America's Greatest Hero, who is slowly but surely growing annoyed by your persistent indifference.

-Thank you, but I already said no - you repeat, and this time, Homelander shifts on the couch.

-And why not? - he asks, tension entering his voice in a way, that makes Madelyn squirm - Countless supes, with much more impressing powers than you, I might add, would kill to be in your place.

"To work with me" goes unsaid, but he can see in your eyes, you read it from thin air of superiority engulfing him. Annoyingly perceptive. You nod your head slowly, before turning away from them, looking out of the window of your living room. There's a small patch of grass, and a second house, so similar to yours, but at the same time, completely different. Your chin sticks out in its direction, and Homelander follows with his eyes.

There are paper butterflies stuck to the windows, cut out clumsily, most likely by children's hands.

-My neighbour, Missus Johnson - you explain - She lives there, with her three kids. Her husband died in a fire caused by your friend, Lamp Lighter.

Madelyn stills, Homelander raises an eyebrow.

-I can afford this house, only because my mother signed an NDA, after The Deep sank my father's fishing boat. - again, your heart stays completely unaffected - Accidentally, of course.

-I was not aware… - Madelyn starts, and it's hard to decipher whether she's talking to you, or Homelander.

Someone at the research department is going to have a very unpleasant evening.

-That's alright - you interrupt her with a raised hand and a small smile - This whole neighborhood is filled with similar cases. And I'm very, very attached to this place.

Why, Homelander couldn't tell. For all he knew, this was some shit hole, right in the suburbs outside New York. Not even the half decent ones. A forgotten by everyone, dying piece of land, that housed insignificant humans, who would never amount to anything, you included. He lived in a lavish apartment, inside a miracle of modern architecture. Who wouldn't want the same?

-And - there's something new entering your tone of voice - If I'm going to betray everything I stand for, I need to give something back to those people. Does your contract reflect that?

Madelyn bites the inside of her cheek, her scrutinizing gaze making your skin itch. Still, she sighs after a moment, excusing herself with that same, practiced expression she uses on every shareholder. Homelander follows her out, nodding his goodbye to you, but before he can leave this dump, Madelyn stops him with a hand pressed against his chest. She gives him one look, makes him aware that his job isn't over, and he can feel the muscles of his face twitch.

So, obediently, he lingers in your doorway, taking a few calming breaths, before facing you once more.

You've changed positions, your armchair abandoned in favor of sitting by the window, one leg bent in a way, that shows quite a nice view of your calf, your long skirt pooling around you. Homelander's eyes trail up with mild interest, and he indulges in his X-ray vision. He's just being curious, nothing more.

Your underwear is, well, for the lack of a better word, plain. The bra seems to be slightly ill fitted, digging into the sides of your breasts, making them almost spill from under your pits, and Homelander swallows thickly at the sight. There are little, pink hearts on your panties. The colors are dull and washed out from frequent use, and the once frilly lace is starting to fray at the edges.

Apparently Vaught's compensation was not sufficient for you to buy some decent undergarments.

-Do you want something to eat? Drink? - you ask from your place by the window, and Homelander is snatched back to reality - Do you even need food?

The bluntness of the question startles him, makes him feel defensive, but Madelyn wanted results, so he puts on a mask of his trained smile, and crosses the room. Back straight like an arrow, he looks wildly out of place between all the linens and cushions. He doesn't look at you, trapping your smaller form in the confinement of the window, as he watches over the neighboring house.

-I'm not hungry - he shoots down your offer with a wave of his hand - I've already eaten.

A lie, but he'd never stoop low enough to take any leftovers, especially from you. Still, the offer seems nice. He does like being pampered, even if it's with lackluster things. Your eyes linger on his boyish smile, another practiced thing, and Homelander shifts focus to your heartbeat once again.

-Alright then - your voice sounds indifferent as ever - Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to make some dinner for myself.

He offers a small nod, and watches you from his position by the window, as you slip past him. It does require quite a lot of manoeuvering, but you manage to stand without touching him. He has to admit, watching you balance, as you try to avoid him, was amusing. Still, your heart beats calmly, and, not wanting to be left on his own, Homelander follows you to your kitchen. The beads of the courtain drum delicately over the bronze eagles on his shoulders.

The fridge is buzzing something awful. He can see just how run down the inside mechanism is, the hinges squeaking unbearably, as you reach for a box of reheatable spaghetti. There's cheep beer inside, a moldy lemon, a carton of milk pretty close to expiring, and a half-used bottle of spicy ketchup. Homelander doesn't even recognize these brands, they're not sponsored by Vaught, that's for sure.

Cheap, tasteless, basically offering no nutritional value.

-Would you step back for a second? - he asks, already wrenching himself between you and that pathetic excuse of a meal.

Again, your body sways to avoid touching him, and for some unknown reason, he finds it very amusing.

Then, you watch with a raised eyebrow, as he turns towards your spaghetti, a red sheen overtaking his eyes. An unbearably hot beam shoots out, making the insides of the plastic packaging sizzle. Finally, that gets him a reaction, as you gasp and reel back, colliding with the barely functional fridge. Your heart does a flip inside your chest, and Homelander soaks up your shock like a man starved.

Only when the red fizzles out of his gaze do you dare to move, approaching him slowly, your eyes bearing into him in a way that is frankly uncomfortable.

He turns to you with another one of his charming smiles, trying to handle this sudden scrutiny in as flippant a way as possible.

-I had no idea you can control the intensity of your lazer - you admit, voice slightly breathless.

-Pretty neat, huh? - perhaps he's fishing for more attention, but he doesn't care, because your eyes light up for just a moment in sheer wonder.

-Super cool, actually.

Yeah. Yeah, that's fucking right, he is super cool. And your heart is beating so much faster, and finally you're looking at him as if he's more than just some guy, some living advertisement you're determined to ignore.

And then your eyes shift, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, as you zero in on his shoulder. Something akin to a wave of amusement flickers across your expression, and to his general surprise, Homelander wants to know what's the cause of this shift. Your lips pull back into a smile, teeth peaking at him in all their glory. He can almost imagine them running down his skin, before he pushes the thought back all together, as the lower portion of his suit becomes slightly too tight for comfort.

-Well, thank you for saving the spaghetti - your eyes hold a spark of amusement - My hero.

Okay, alright, he's hard. There's no point denying it. However annoying and insignificant you were moments before, your quip goes straight to his loins, burning enough, for him to consider just how mad Stillwell would be, if he'd have a taste of this newly discovered talent.

If he stands any closer to you, he might find out, because this special little moment you two have shared, is crudely interrupted by Madelyn clearing her throat. Homelander nearly jumps back, you however barely turn your head, reaching for your spaghetti and arming yourself with a fork.

-I've spoken to my supervisor - Stillwell announces, clearly peeved by the way you start chewing on the noodles - A new version of the contract will be emailed to you as soon as possible. Hopefully it will be satisfactory.

-Thank you, Miss Stillwell - you answer with an inclination of your head.

With that, Madelyn nods her goodbye at you, refusing to shake your hand, which does amuse you, you're not going to lie. Homelander however, goes all out, capturing your fork-weilding arm, his fingers sneaking around your wrist like a bracelet. Or a shackle. Then, you watch with a confused arch to your eyebrows, as he brings you closer, until his lips press onto the protruding knuckles. Now that, admittedly, gets your heart going. You were not an easily embarrassed person, not by a long shot, but you could feel blood rushing towards your face all the same.

He has to hold his breath, as he kisses your hand in that charming, gentleman way he's seen in old movies. The smell of pasteurized tomato sauce blows in his direction, like a direct assault on his senses. Still, he needed something that would make you swoon. If everything failed, he knew how to be intimidating, but for now, perhaps he wanted to try something different. Something that would yield much more pleasant results, for the both of you. Mostly for him, let's be honest.

Madelyn asks him to stay back, spy on you throughout the night, and he begrudgingly agrees, if only to mask the fact, that he would do so of his own volition, had she not brought it up. And as such, he floats into the rapidly cooling air, disappearing into the darkening sky, where you wouldn't be able to see him even if you tried. He could see you however, and hear you, and he was about to make the most of the situation.

He spends the whole evening just watching you exist within your space. Normally, it would piss him off beyond belief. You weren't doing anything scandalous, anything that could warrant his attention. And yet, as he floats on, in time lowering himself just slightly, to get a better view, he just can't seem to look away. The spaghetti is gone in approximately fifteen minutes, as you inhale the supermarket food, walking around the living room, the kitchen, getting a few bites on the porch even. You seem so utterly unfazed by the events of the past hour, like you haven't just had America's Greatest Superhero try to convince you to work with him. It's honestly insulting, this lack of reaction.

Then, finally, he can hear a distinct ping of a new email come from your laptop, and you sit down on the couch with a small huff. Your eyes move, your lips twitch, and then he hears your heart stop in your chest. As if working on autopilot, your hand travels up, covers your mouth in shock, and you lean back against the worn-down sofa, eyes glued to the screen illuminating your face in a blue-ish light.

-...fuck… - you whisper, and despite himself Homelander floats even closer to your window.

Finally, he has the chance to peak over the curtain. To sneak into the backstage of the award winning production of your defenses, and see what goes on in those bored eyes of yours, when they're not guarded. And what he sees makes his suit feel much too tight, his body too warm. Quite an unusual thing to get so worked up about, but he's the goddamned Homelander, he can get hard whenever he fucking wants. And so, as saliva gathers on his tongue, he presses himself against the tiles on your roof, all the warmth of the day soaking into his skin through the thick material of his suit.

With a shaky hand you reach over towards your phone, putting in a number and pressing the call button, before standing straight from the couch, almost knocking the laptop over.

-Hey, what's up? - someone says on the other end of the line, and Homelander tries to focus more on the words flowing from the receiver.

-Oh, you gotta sit down for that one - you warn with an anxious chuckle, taking the familiar place by the window.

With your free hand you reach up to open the window all the way. Then, Homelander sees your fingers slip between the pillows and pull out a rather beaten up pack of cigarettes.

Naughty, naughty, he thinks, watching you produce a lighter from that same hiding place.

-Alright, I'm sat like never before.

The voice sounds vaguely female, although the shitty quality of your phone makes it hard to decipher. Your lips pull back into a toothy grin, and you blow out the smoke through the window. It curls upwards and dissipates into the air, right above the roof, where Homelander swallows thickly around a coughing fit.

-You will not believe who visited me today…

-The ICE - the voice deadpans, and you snort around another huff of smoke.

-Pretty fucking close, let me tell you - he doesn't appreciate the joke, not at all - Fucking Homelander.

The line goes completely quiet for a moment, and with every second your grin seems to be growing.

-Deadass?

-Yup - your lips purse, and Homelander zeroes in on the expression - Flew in all Star's Spangled Glory with some Vaught big fish. They tried to convince me to join the Seven.

-And obviously you said yes, because what the fuck else do you do in that situation?

Your grin slowly fades away, and you lean your forehead on the window frame.

-You didn't?

-I didn't.

Again, it's quiet.

Homelander shifts a bit in his position, adjusting against the warmed up tiles of the roof, his X-ray vision bearing into you. Out of curiosity, he looks deeper, eyes floating over your insides. You're relatively healthy. Some vitamin deficiencies, but nothing too serious. And despite that nasty habit lodged between your fingers, your lungs are clear, at least for now. There's a softness to your body, your muscles barely visible, as if you're just another gray human. Oh, and there's a bit of an eyesight problem forming, not enough to warrant glasses, but that shouldn't take long, considering your lifestyle.

-The contract they gave me was really good, you know - you muse to the phone, your leg dangling from the windowsill - Six months of working under Homelander, a Sidekick kinda situation.

-I thought they scraped the Sidekick program - the person on the other side wonders - Too many casualties or something.

-Yeah, well I guess they want to bring it back.

-Why did you say no then? I'm sure they pay is gigantic.

Again, you smile. This one much more reserved, bordering on sad. There's that strange kind of exhaustion settling into your bones again, same one Homelander noticed when he first saw you. Your shoulders slump forward, and you curl into yourself between the cushions.

-It was, it was… - you mutter - But I needed something more, for the neighborhood, ya know?

Your caller hums softly in understanding, and Homelander feels like something is passing him by. Some unspoken fact, that you and your friend find obvious.

-And - you hesitate, eyes flickering towards the laptop, your heart beat picking up ever so slightly - They sent me a revised contract. And it's fucking good. Really fucking good. It could help this entire place get back on its feet.

-But you still don't want to - the voice says for you, without judgement.

-No - you sigh - I really, really don't.

-Say no then - your friend supplies, and once again Homelander feels a flame of annoyance start to burn within him - No one else knows about the contract, there will be no expectations.

Slowly, you nod your head, clearly relieved by the way your friend reacted to the news. Homelander however, caught you right where he needed you. That's your lever. Not seduction, not intimidation, just plain, stupidly human guilt.

-Thank you - you whisper into your phone, finally smiling again - Oh, wanna know one more thing?

-Obviously.

-Homelander's wearing a padded suit.

Something's stuck in his throat, as he reels back from his position. Before he can stop himself, his eyes begin to glow red, because how the fuck did you know?

-Okay, that's bullshit.

-Unless his shoulder dislocated in the middle of talking, then no, it's definitely not bullshit.

Your friend gives out a choked laugh, one which you mirror with your own. If Homelander wasn't so utterly flabbergasted by your (correct) observation, he would've stopped to appreciate the sound. As it stands, however, he pushes himself off your roof, a couple of broken pieces falling off of the tiles. And then he's up in the air, cutting through the winds, headed straight for the Tower, leaving you in the comfort of your insignificant, smelly home.

The contract is leaked before the sun is up.

You're awoken to thousands of news articles flooding your timeline, all listing the truly wonderful and selfless points in the fated email. With a white face, you read them all, the speculations, the theories, the angry comments about you being chosen without an actual casting, while all those up and coming supes are busting their asses in auditions.

Soon enough, you're visited by every neighbour possible, congratulating, thanking you. A barbecue is set in the street, as a way of celebration, and you want to throw your phone, and subsequently yourself into the nearest river.

Madelyn Stillwell sends you an email, scheduling a meeting at the Vaught Tower. No need for pleasantries at this point, you stare at the bare bones invitation. "We eagerly await the start of our partnership" looks back at you, mocking your resolve. And thus, the end of your life as you know it begins.

"Project Delinquent"

The words are printed in an ugly, corporate font, and they stare back at you, outlining the mold you're supposed to fit in, in such a perfect way, it actually, almost makes you retch. True, during high school you were quite the little rebel, but people grown and learn, and seeing your character be watered down to that simple word, does send a wave of nausea through your insides. Even if this is hell of your own making, even if you're ready to swallow it all down with a smile, there's a pang of humiliation stinging your heart.

The armchair in Stillwell's office is uncomfortably narrow. It barely has enough room to accommodate your hips, and you wonder if this design is intentional. There is a growing ache in your calves, as you sit so close to the edge, you can't fully relax into your position, balancing on your feet instead. The armrests dig into your sides, and the way the sun is shining through the gigantic windows of the office, is shaping this charade of a meeting into an overstimulating nightmare. Still, you endure. For all the wonderful benefits enclosed in your contract, the charity work Vaught is going to supply.

Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself, stuck between the marketing department representatives and a literal Devil of a woman.

Madelyn Stillwell doesn't know what to make out of you. Your files were filled with all sorts of questionable activity, especially around the college area. It's honestly a miracle you've managed to get your degree, and attend all those silly little demonstrations at the same time. Your criminal record has been wiped clean, weeks before you even agreed to sign the contract, just in case any leaks would find their way into the media. Leaks that were not orchestrated by Madelyn, of course.

High school rebellion was almost too easily marketable, Madelyn decided to focus on that part of your life as much as possible, her vision slowly coming to fruition. All she needed, really, was cooperation. And while you seemed to be mostly receptive to her ideas, she needed to make sure Homelander was on his best behavior. Which, well… Could go sideways in the worst way imaginable, but Stillwell tried to have some faith in her best superhero.

The idea of releasing details of your contract to the public, was a stroke of genius, she did not expect from Homelander, and she made sure he was thoroughly rewarded. With him, it was always better to choose the hands-on approach, unfortunately. With you, however, ideals were the key. Whatever feeling of solidarity you harbored towards your neighborhood, provided a leverage relatively easy to control. Still, as Stillwell looked you over, crammed into her office in your, frankly, lousy attire, she couldn't help but be just a tad worried about your compliance.

-…And then - the marketer continues with a dramatic gasp - Homelander comes in. America's Greatest Hero, offers you a mentorship. And you…

You look up at the representative with a rather sour expression. They have to work on that too. Media training was crucial. You won't be able to sell anything, if you keep grimacing like that all the damned day.

-… Are starstruck - your mouth twitches - You strike up a deal, selfless. A rebel with a heart of gold. Finally, you can make some real change happen, so you push aside your anti-corporate values, to discover, that Vaught is so much more, than you could possibly imagine.

It's hard not to laugh, and you swallow thickly, biting your lip, as a middle-aged woman you don't recognize gets up from the couch, and makes her way to the wall opposite of your torture chair. There, tucked in a corner and hidden under a black cloth, stands a mannequin, roughly your size. With a flourish you find utterly out of place, the woman tugs at the cape, and as it falls to the floor, so does your stomach. You can't hold it in any longer. A rough snort of laughter rips out of your nose, and you cover your mouth instantly.

-That better be a laugh of delight - Ashley, a ginger menace, mutters under her breath, and Stillwell turns to you with a tight expression on her face.

-Something the matter?

-I mean - you take a deep, grounding breath, tying your amusement in the back of your throat - I knew it's going to be skimpy, but this is…

You look around the room, seeing various stages of corporate outrage, and then you lock eyes with Homelander. Stillwell insisted on his participation in the meeting, as the both of you are supposed to work closely together, and throughout the whole ordeal, he looked borderline ready to die of boredom. Now, however, his eyebrows lift in a curious manner, as he takes in the, to be completely honest, horrendous costume, and your full figure. Something dangerously close to disgust twists your features, as he shamelessly drags his eyes all over your body.

Who would've thought America's Sweetheart was a fucking creep?

Rolling your eyes, you get up from the cursed armchair, your knees cracking loudly. Crossing the room, you take a closer look at the clothing, or rather, lack there of. Torn fishnets, plaid tennis skirt, and a corset top, made out of some leather-like material. Truly, a fetishists wet dream. Your fingers sample the fabric of the skirt. Surprisingly stiff, it seems to beg for a wardrobe malfunction. With a frown pulling down your lips, you lift the material up, and as expected, find no safety shorts underneath.

Homelander watches you intently, as you inspect the costume. Just the thought of your soft body in this skimpy, corporate bastardization of a rock star, makes heat rise in the lower part of his stomach. With every disapproving pull of your, and don't quote him on that, perfect lips, he's more and more convinced this whole charade is just an early birthday present. He'll have to thank Stillwell. Or better not, because as soon as he throws her a sidelong glance, he discovers, she's already looking at him. With a rather tense expression at that.

He feigns innocence, almost raises his hands in mock defeat, but decides against it at the last second. You're still watching him, torn between inspecting the costume, and shooting disgruntled looks in his direction.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, your hand sneaks to the front of the corset, fingers closing over the full cup, where your breast will soon reside. You give the mock leather two squeezes, and a high-pitched laugh wheezes out of your lips. Homelander's head nearly snaps with how fast he turns to look at Stillwell, confusion clear on his face.

She's looking at you cautiously. He knows that expression all too well, he's seen it multiple times during their partnership. She's calculating, with bated breath, just how much of a problem you'll inevitably become. How to turn it around in the company's favor, how to steer you in the right direction, should the need arise.

But then, you clap your hands, still giggling quietly, and turn to the designer, who's been watching your reaction with a growing distaste.

-That's one hell of a push-up bra - you comment with a raised eyebrow - My tits will fly straight out of this, if I even think about moving my arms.

Now, that's something Homelander would love to see, and you note his leering face with an uncomfortable shift in your posture.

-Your physique has to be god-like. There's no shame in a little padding - the designer answers simply, and your eyes glimmer with amusement.

-Oh, I bet - your eyes float for just a second in Homelander's direction, and he wonders if lasering you down right now would be too harsh of a reaction.

The image had to be kept up, however, and he deflects your blatant provocation with a bright smile. Or rather, it would've been a bright smile, if his cheek didn't twitch in a way, that portrayed exactly how forced his pleasantries are.

-There will be a press conference, seven PM sharp, where you'll be introduced to the public - Ashley informs you, her eyes glued to her tablet - Homelander will give a welcoming speech, explain that you're a temporary member of The Seven. Then, you'll need to say a couple of words. We'll send you the talking points ASAP.

-Right… - you mutter, not particularly thrilled by the idea of public speaking.

Stillwell looks over her shoulder towards Homelander, giving him an expectant, raised eyebrow. Slowly, he moves from his spot by the window, hand extended in a greeting, teeth flashing in a smile. Your eyes involuntarily shift towards his rather sharp canines, and for the first time, since you've signed the contract, you truly feel uneasy. His eyes are almost unnaturally blue, a perfect, American shade, that glimmers just a tad too dangerously. There's no need for super senses, he can feel your nerves in the very air you breathe.

-Welcome to The Seven - his voice is smoother than you've ever heard before - Fireball.

Wait a god-damned minute.

Confusion covers all previous feelings, and to Homelander's growing annoyance, you leave him with his hand extended, in favor of turning towards Stillwell.

-That's not my name - you point out, and Madelyn nods her head in a practiced expression of understanding.

-Due to some copyright intricacies, we can't let you use Smirnoff - she explains.

You suck in a deep breath through your teeth, looking back towards the costume. A moment's hesitation, you close your eyes as you breathe out, and once again Homelander feels as if he's able to peak under a carnival mask you carefully placed upon yourself. He lifts it just enough, sees the way muscles on your neck twitch. Your jaw sets in a way, that is slowly becoming intoxicating, and then you turn back to him.

-I'm honored - your voice is hollow, locked far away in the column of your throat, and you don't have enough strength to even attempt a smile.

That's alright, he has enough charm for the both of you, his imposing stature pushing towards you, as his arm sneaks around your shoulders.

Fuck, you're warm. He can feel the heat of your skin seeping into his costume. There's a vaguely familiar smell clinging to your form, mixing with the scent of cigarette smoke. Jasmine flowers, he concludes, and absent-mindedly remembers a rather large bush growing in your backyard. He wonders, if you'd let him fuck you, if he showed up with a bouquet at your door. Women seemed to like those, and although you didn't strike him as the most romantic person, he's positive he could charm his way into your pants.

-I'll show you to your room, sweetheart - perhaps he's laying it on a bit heavy with the nickname.

He can hear Stillwell's heart jump, and he immediately knows, he's going to have to sit through a stern talk later today. You, on the other hand, wrench your head to the side, disgruntled with this new form of familiarity. Your entire body goes tense, and you try to wriggle yourself further away from him. On instinct, his fingers dig into your shoulder, a mockery of a friendly expression, and with just a small fragment of his true strength, he pushes you forward, out of Stillwell's office.

He can do whatever he wants, and Madelyn is getting awfully pushy with guarding you from him. You're just a temporary toy to satisfy the higher-ups. A six months worth of an experiment, that he's forced to be a part of. After your contract is up, Vaught won't care whether you live or die, and you bet your rather ample ass, he's going to exploit that to the fullest. Not only is it borderline insulting, to deny him life's simple pleasures, it's pathetic.

-Nervous about the press? - he asks in a light tone, his jaw clicking softly, when your slide out of his grasp as soon as the doors close.

The casualness of this question throws you in a bit of a loop, but with a couple of rapid blinks, you're back to normal, letting him lead you towards the elevator.

-Public speaking isn't my best asset - you mumble.

Homelander presses the call button of the elevator, then leans against the wall, watching you with a strange twinkle in his eye.

-Sounds like someone's not a people person - he notes, wiggling his finger at you in a manner that is confusingly playful.

-I am a people person - you defend yourself, albeit a bit awkwardly - Just… Not when there's a lot of people.

He laughs at that, a practiced, almost theatrical bark that's as fake as his hairdo. All you have the strength to do, is flash him half of a smile. Thankfully the elevator pings before any more small-talk is required, and you slip into the confined space, standing in the corner. His eyes roam freely all over your body, a shameless act that makes your guts twist, makes the already small space of the elevator even more stuffy. And then, he enters after you, pressing a button to the right floor, and taking a spot much too close to you, than what's necessary.

You suppose it's one of the things you'll have to get used to. This constant invasion of your personal space. Perhaps, if it were someone else, someone that wasn't as empty as you, those actions would've been more intimidating than annoying. Alas, as you watch his chest rise and fall in steady rythm, out of the corner of your eye, his actions remind you of a petulant, spoiled child, rather than America's Greatest Hero. "I can't play with this toy? And what if I do this?" For just a second you entertain the idea of gentle parenting Homelander, and the thought makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

-Something the matter? - he asks, tension sneaking into his friendly tone.

-Just happy to be here, sir - you answer, and he knows it's a blatant lie, another one of your snarky provocations.

Doesn't matter for now, there will be a time to teach you some manners.

The elevator arrives at the right floor, and you bolt out of your place as soon as the doors slip open. Homelander follows closely behind, before closing the distance in a couple of long steps. Then, he's in front of you, and you nearly collide with his form, as he suddenly comes to a stop, in front of a pair of large doors. "Fireball" is etched into a small plack, and you throw the offending piece of metal a withering glance.

-That's your stop, sweetheart - he comments, and once again, you grimace at the nickname - Take a look inside, I'm sure it will blow your socks right off.

Why is he talking to you like you're a fucking child all of a sudden, you'll never understand. The door clicks softly, as you open it, revealing your living space for the next six months. The sight chokes a laugh out of you, because truly, the ammount of "punk" memorabilia is staggering.

-Does cocaine addiction come with the package, or…?

He doesn't even react to your joke, and you don't blame him. For all his creepiness and fake interest, he doesn't strike you as the funniest person on earth. There are guitars hanging over a rather large bed, there's a pristine stop sign next to them, which you suppose is meant to look rebellious. The usage of leopard print is tacky at best, and you truly start to wonder if they even consulted someone out of the corporation to design the space. Most likely no, wouldn't want to waste resources on such a small project.

-Fireball - Homelander's voice is barely above a whisper, but it makes your heart jump all the same.

He's standing so closely behind you, you can feel the warmth of his breath at the back of your neck, but for some unnknown reason, you can't force yourself to move. Instead, you feel him take a deep breath trough his nose, his chest brushing against your back. Your eyes stay glued to a drum set, pushed against a gigantic window. Light reflects off of the cymbals, in your mind you're already playing it, far away from this nightmare of a superhero.

-I'll see you at the press conference - Homelander's hand clasps itself over your shoulder, squeezing a couple of times, as if testing the softness of your body - Don't even think about being late, young lady.

You don't know when he dissapears, as you stand there, frozen. One foot over the threshold of your room, breathing shallow and borderline panicked. It could've been seconds, could've been hours, until your head finally snaps to the side. He's not there anymore, you're alone in the corridor, and as you slam the door closed behind you, something you've only suspected before becomes abundantly clear.

There is something deeply wrong with Homelander.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Rings of Power Masterlist

*all fics posted so far are x reader, written with fem!Elf!reader in mind

These works are also being gradually added to my ao3 account.

🎀 - contains smut

-> Sauron

Ruin - in which you share a moment alone in the forge

Misled - in which he tries to convince you that your father, Lord Celebrimbor, is the darkness you saw in the Unseen World

Distraction - in which he blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Choice - in which you try to persuade Halbrand to follow you to the Southlands, regardless of his past

Decision - in which you find out why Halbrand has been distant despite the intimacy you shared in Númenor, and now it’s your turn to decide whether or not to follow him on the path ahead

Perfect illusion - in which you have to sit at your father’s side while Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along

🎀 Inspiration - In which you struggle coming up with new designs for the Nine, and the Lord of Gifts helps you overcome your creative block

🎀 Further inspiration - in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

-> Evil!reader (chronological order)

* technically these share the same reader, but as the fics were not written in chronological order, each of them is either self-contained or has some info beforehand so it’s not too confusing wherever you start. So feel free to read them as a series or simply pick what sounds good to you.

* playlist for vibes

*some crazy memes about these two here and here

Remade - in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

🎀 Tides of fate -> in which your newly returned husband is unsure of the path ahead, and the sea itself tries to deter you from the one you choose together

Reunion - in which your husband finally returns from his time in Númenor, and you make the most of the first moment you get him alone

As one - in which you sense that your husband is being tormented at Adar’s camp, and you join him through your bond to share in his burden from afar

🎀 As we are now - in which you explore your husband’s new form, and it leads to you breaching a rather delicate subject

A true gift - in which you share a private moment with your husband, then add a special little detail to his new look

Jealousy - in which you know he is only getting close to Mirdania as part of your plans, but it still bothers you

Reveal - in which you can’t seem to quell Celebrimbor’s suspicions, and he finally learns the true identity of you and your husband

🎀 Theatrics - in which Celebrimbor tries to expose you and your husband to the people of Eregion, but you play the role of the innocent maiden to perfection

Old Wounds - in which you guard Celebrimbor to make sure he finishes the Nine, and he makes the mistake of underestimating the bond you and your husband share

Kill and make up - in which you and your husband discover that Celebrimbor has escaped with the Nine, and it brings out the uglier side of your relationship

Defied - in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

The Two - in which Galadriel fights to withhold Nenya and the Nine, but in the end she fails to stop your husband placing yet another ring upon your finger

-> Galadriel

Lost - in which she sees you in her 2x02 vision instead of Celebrimbor

Blindly - in which you find Galadriel in the waters of the Glanduin, acting strange in a terrifying way

[nininikki]

divorced-ish — n. kento

content warnings: ex-husband!nanami, delusional!nanami (he’s cute tho)

author’s note: sigh i need him

ex-husband!nanami who just couldn’t stay away from you if he tried

ex-husband!nanami who you’d originally separated from on account of his work seeming to hold more priority over you, and then your newborn daughter.

ex-husband!nanami who still keeps a photo of you and the baby on his desk at his job (which, ironically, was the thing that ultimately led to his marriage failing). when asked by his nosey secretary why he still kept the photo, he only responded, “it’s my family. why wouldn’t i?”

ex-husband!nanami who had yet to actually finalize the divorce. but really, it wasn’t his fault. he just hadn’t gotten around to sending the papers over (or having them printed up at all), what with all those crazy shifts at work. oh, well, it didn’t matter. he would do it at some point.

ex-husband!nanami who had left you virtually everything in the not-so-finalized-divorce. the four bedroom, four bathroom house, your diamond 6 carat engagement ring, your wedding china, the aston martin db9 he had gifted you for your birthday, the park avenue apartment, the country house in monaco—all of it.

ex-husband!nanami who you had never been able to turn down whenever he stayed over just a little later after dropping the baby back off with you. the two of you would sit on the couch and catch up over a glass of wine. then one glass turned to two, then two to three. and for a minute it would almost feel as if you were still married.

nanami never ended up leaving until the late hours of the night. by which point you began to wonder where he’d gotten all the free time he couldn’t seem to find when you were actually married.

ex-husband!nanami who internally scoffed whenever you mentioned going on a date with another man.

“do you think you could watch her on saturday? i’ve got a date i really don’t wanna miss.” you’d asked at the tail end of an already too long (thirty minute) phone call.

nanami breathed a recognizable, pensive sigh on the other end, chewing through what he’d earlier told you was tempura, but considering how long it was taking him to answer, it may as well have been your nerves.

“you know i will, but, uh,” you heard him swallow. “a date?”

although your ex-husband didn’t exactly sound like he was joking, you couldn’t help the giggle that vibrated through your body. glancing at the clock on your nightstand that read eight-thirty and the baby sleeping soundly in the crib next to your bed, you propped the house phone between your ear and shoulder. what was the harm in killing another thirty minutes?

“yes, kento, a date. his name is scott. he’s an art dealer. i think you’d like him.”

“does scott know you’re still married?”

“separated,” you corrected him. “and no, he doesn’t. do you tell every woman who asks you out that you’re married?”

nanami hesitated for a second before answering, “yes, i do.”

ex-husband!nanami who came to your house with flowers and a store bought pumpkin pie for thanksgiving. more than you’d like to admit, you liked having him around for the holidays. he was so good with the baby, and so attentive to everything else. cleaning up all the leftovers and stray baby toys as the night came to an end.

it was nearing ten o’clock when he had successfully put the baby to sleep, and then came down to help you tidy up the downstairs. “y’know you didn’t have to buy a pie, right?” you told him after you’d discovered it hidden amongst the array of leftover pots and aluminum pans. “i know it’s your favorite. i’d have made you some.”

nanami brought his task at hand (loading the dishwasher) to a stiff halt and joined you at the island countertop. “but hey,” you added, tearing the lid off the pie. “we could see if it’s as good as the real thing.”

your ex-husband, usually the most well-spoken man you knew, could only stiffly nod in your direction while you retrieved a pair of shiny silver forks, still in the drawer they’d always been in. “and i got some whipped cream if you want.” you added as you gave him a fork, now taken aback by his sudden lack of speech. seriously, he hadn’t spoken this little since the year leading up to your separation.

what you didn’t know was that nanami couldn’t speak if he wanted to. he needed this. the three of you hadn’t had a real holiday together since last halloween, and even that was admittedly very bleak. “i miss you,” nanami blurted.

and he did. he missed your desserts for every holiday—savory pumpkin pie for thanksgiving, sweet apple pie for christmas, strawberry eclairs for valentine’s day. he missed opening his eyes every morning to the sight of your face smushed into a pillow, or a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth. he missed coming home from work to the sight of you and the baby sound asleep on the couch. he missed being your husband, and even more knowing you were his wife.

ex-husband!nanami who spent the night fucking his ex-wife into the couch as though they were still married. wrapping you in his strong arms, while murmuring promises of change and betterment. “i’ll never go to work again, swear,” he said, shuddering between deep thrusts. “please just take me back, baby.”

[fleurhcss]

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐨 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 - Seungmin x FEM!Reader

cw: some cunty and kinky shit, very hard sex, best friends to lovers, very possessive and hard dom seungmin with a sweet trait (im sorry i love my minnie), bratty reader, you are really a whore, stripper reader, mention of alchool and jealousy, handcuff

sw: hair pulling, pinv, cunnilingus, oral (M! receving), orgasm denial, multiple orgasm, scratching, biting, marking, bit of blood cuz seungmin is very kinky bastard MDNI!

wc: 7k

synopsis: Financially, you are not doing well. In addition to your part-time job, you attend some clubs in the evenings in order to earn a little more money. You do not mind showing off, as you love receiving compliments from men and finding new partners with whom to engage in sexual intercourse in order to satisfy your sexual frustrations. Your closest friend, Seungmin, is unaware of these circumstances. Given his protective nature, it is likely that he would take extreme measures to protect you. One unexpected outcome of the situation is that the individual in question has become a possessive dominant. He unintentionally discovers the extent of your job. This results in a particularly harsh fuck between the two, during which he is merciless. Your initial perception of him was that of a kind and gentle individual. However, upon further reflection, it becomes evident that he is, in fact, a complex and intriguing character. His actions and demeanor often elicit a strong emotional response, including feelings of intense arousal and even physical sensations such as bleeding.

a/n: hiii, I'm writing this since the chanel event! I'm sorry if i take request so sloowly but it's exam ses. now! Hope you will like this, i had fun writing it 🫶🏻🩷 made especially for this cutie @chrizzztopherbang . I opened a ko-fi account, i will post there some stories and drawings, if you want to support me i will be grateful to anyone who wants to give me tips, ITS NOT OBLIGATORY

[ SMUT ]

Another day at one of your many jobs. Lately you have been having financial problems. These included paying for university fees, rent, food, bills and other necessities. To supplement your income, you have been working four different jobs: bartending, librarian, after-school care every other day, and nightclub work every night. Your friends were unaware of this aspect of your life, as it caused you considerable embarrassment to discuss it. However, you did not feel uncomfortable about it. The practice of tipping for extra services was beneficial, although not all men were comfortable with it. Some men were able to satisfy the sexual frustrations of the women with whom they engaged in such activities. At this point, you were in the midst of a professional endeavour, helping high school students to improve their GPAs. It is remarkable that these students held you in such high esteem. Despite the exhaustion that inevitably accompanied the work, you found great satisfaction in your role. As you corrected the maths exercises of the esteemed Hana, an Anglo-Korean girl whom you held in high esteem and who always presented you with exquisite drawings, you contemplated the future once you had completed your current task.

At nine o'clock in the evening you were expected at one of the clubs in the city centre for your usual performance. In addition to the attractive salary, this job had another important advantage: you had always been passionate about dancing, and this was the closest thing you had to it. However, you had been forced to give up dancing for lack of time and money. After finishing the boys' homework and explaining some philosophical concepts and mathematical formulas, you retired to bed to get some rest. Fortunately, it was still six o'clock, allowing you to rest after an already exhausting day. You had studied in the morning, worked in the afternoon and now, in a few hours, you would resume your night work. The strange absence of your best friend's usual appearance or phone call had not yet occurred. At least he was fine. Seungmin was your best friend. He had two different personalities: during the day he was a polite and wealthy individual who showed considerable intelligence and respect; at night, when he was with his friends, he became a kind of Don Giovanni heartthrob. There is no denying that he had a certain appeal.

He was very protective of you and never allowed other men to interfere in your romantic life. As a result, he was the first to not know of your secret occupation. It is difficult to predict how he might have reacted, and it may have been for the best that he was not informed. If he ever discovered your secret, he would hunt down the men you were with one by one, and the outcome of that hunt was uncertain. He would then turn his attention to you, giving you a good-natured lecture and possibly resorting to other forms of intimidation. Your best friend was able to make him feel afraid, although you had learned this not from him but from Jisung, Seungmin's best friend, who had been caught having sex with his professor in Seungmin's car. You still remember his displeased behaviour and you were reluctant to provoke him further.

However, your premature declaration of triumph was premature, for he had not telephoned, but had arrived at your home just as you were about to fall into a deep sleep. The most disturbing aspect of the situation was the fact that you had given him the keys to your home, as he had been your closest friend for several years. So there was no need for you to get up and open the door for him, as he suddenly walked into your room in his gym clothes. This was somewhat unexpected, as he had previously expressed no interest in going to the gym. He himself noticed your puzzled expression at his unusual post-gym attire and appearance. "Good afternoon! Don't look at me with such disdain, Changbin Hyung is forcing Jisung, Felix and me to work out with him because he says we're too skinny," and you were overcome with laughter. The aforementioned were remarkably thin, consisting of two adorable little men with minimal musculature. They looked like little fairies, including Changbin, who seemed to have exaggerated musculature. Seungmin was considerably taller than the others and had broad shoulders. The image of him working out with them was quite funny.

"It's funny to consider the prospect of you working out with them. It is equally amusing to consider the prospect of you doing any kind of training at all, considering your past dislike of training," you concluded, making yourself comfortable and making room for your friend to sit next to you on the bed. He gave you a friendly pat on the arm and pouted in a way that was both endearing and characteristic of him. You had coined the term "Seungballons" to describe this particular pout, as it resembled a balloon. Furthermore, the addition of a pout in the form of a kiss would invariably render one unconscious. You found this behaviour endearing, and it prompted you to engage in a reciprocal act of affection by kissing him on the cheeks. "Ugh, in the end I have to admit that it is not without merit. It is a long-standing affair that is difficult to notice because of my tendency to wear baggy clothes. However, I have gained a considerable amount of muscle mass. Look." He said as he lifted the shirts he was wearing, causing you to be quite shocked because, yes, your friend had two pecs and a well-developed six-pack. His physical appearance provoked a strong emotional response, but he was your closest friend and you were unable to entertain such thoughts.

"You must tell Changbin that he has done an excellent job with you," you swallowed, made a feigned smile and drank some water, trying to erase the image of your best friend's partially naked body from your mind - although you did not mind. "I will, and I am grateful to you, my dear . Although we're going to a club tomorrow night; would you like to come?" he asked. You froze, considering the possibility of being caught. However, they did not usually frequent such places, so you had some protection if your luck did not turn against you. "I would like to tell you that I am unable to attend. I have a full day's work and then I have to prepare for an upcoming exam. Nevertheless, I would be interested to know where you are going, if I may ask." "I am not sure. Binnie Hyung informed us that he had discovered a new place and we were curious to know more about it," Seungmin said thoughtfully, and you felt a sense of relief that you still had the opportunity to withdraw.

But you were not convinced by your friend's desperate expression; you suspected he was hiding something. "Are you okay, Min?" you asked as you adjusted his bangs. "Yes, and I am worried about the taste of some of my hyungs, to be honest," he replied, leading you onto the bed and initiating a bout of tickling. That afternoon, your thoughts were not on the information your friend had given you. Instead, you found yourself contemplating his toned, naked chest. You had not anticipated his physical attractiveness, especially given his previous behaviour. You had grown accustomed to his puppy-dog appearance, with its endearingly youthful features.

So you did not consider the possibility that he might have been working out.

It was obvious that the ensemble suited him. Seungmin already had broad shoulders and one of your vices was to lean on them when watching a film or going out. It was a habit you had developed, but it was not a common occurrence. "Please don't change the subject. I'm curious about Changbin's tastes."

You giggled and pulled yourself together again. Seungmin was no innocent, so he blushed slightly.

His former partners had confirmed this to you, as they had discussed his sexual performance in great detail. However, he was ashamed to discuss certain topics in public or with you, as you were his best friend. He saw you as an innocent girl, which you were not. "Let's say he has a taste for strippers and nightclubs. That is all I am saying, and I am aware that it is a rather embarrassing subject".

He finished by running his hand over his face, making you chuckle.

"As if you had never seen a woman without her clothes on." You made the claim. In fact, he had observed numerous instances of female nudity, including those of his romantic partners.

"Yes, but I was with them. I am not like Hyung who has adventures with women who lap dance for him in night clubs". Had he been aware of this, he would have realised that this is exactly what you do for a living. "You have never considered fucking a woman you are not romantically involved with and who is not your girlfriend?" you inquired as you began to manipulate the fabric of his suit. "No, I'm... shy," he replied, biting his lip. He was looked at with a certain amount of disbelief.

" You! are shy?" you asked, looking at him with an expression that even he, as your closest friend, could not interpret. "Yes, I am," he replied, grimacing and then playfully pushing you. "You're really weird, Kim Seungmin," you pushed him back and then initiated a tickling session, blushing as you felt how well trained and sculpted he was under your touch. It was not the first time you had touched a well-trained chest, but Seungmin's did something to you. Maybe it was because he was your closest friend, or maybe it was because he was different from the others you had met, or maybe it was because you were used to seeing him consistently and exclusively as a thin individual with broad shoulders.

It can be argued that, without meaning to, you became preoccupied with fantasies about Seungmin to an extent that was inappropriate. Not only had you been friends for years, but he was one of your closest friends. Although you found it difficult to erase certain images of him from your mind, you felt guilty about thinking about him in a certain way. It is also worth noting that your nighttime occupation presented certain challenges. It would be highly undesirable for any of your friends, especially Seungmin, to become aware of your nighttime activities. On reflection, Seungmin had mentioned visiting a nightclub. If he were to find you on duty at one of the clubs where you were a regular, your situation would be untenable. It is unclear how Seungmin perceived you, but it is unlikely that he saw you as a dancer in one of the clubs that your best friend's best friend appreciated.

He suddenly asked what he should wear, causing you to look at him with a certain amount of concern. Your best friend was known for his occasional eccentricities. "Excuse me, but do I look like an expert on nightclubs to you?" you inquired, your tone betraying a certain concern. "No, but as a woman you might have the knowledge to dress me in a manner that would impress," he replied, almost shyly, though his demeanour betrayed his true feelings. "So my dear Min wants to impress a girl?" you inquired, playfully pinching his cheek as you laughed. He looked at you with a look of displeasure. "I am a man and I have not fucked for several months. I have certain... needs. By the way, it is undoubtedly a challenge for me to refrain from emotional connection during fucks. However, I cannot resist certain urges. Perhaps at the end of the night I can get a positive response from someone," he said in a low voice, his hands covering his face. "Are you really saying that you want to fuck while being all shy, Kim Seungmin?" You laughed in his face for the umpteenth time. "What do you want? It seems like you haven't fucked for a long time." He tousled your hair, but watching your expression closely, he returned it with a confused one, to say the least.

The problem was that you lacked the ability to lie effectively, especially in the context of deceiving him. As a result, you often displayed peculiar facial expressions that he was able to read with remarkable clarity. "Oh my God, fuck! You fucked with someone and didn't tell me?" he asked, his expression showing more anger than offence. "That is not true. You are imagining these events," you replied, trying to maintain a neutral expression. "Yes, you did. You fucked and did not tell me about it. You know you cannot lie to me, Y/N," he said, biting his lip with an expression that was both serious and intense. The atmosphere had become noticeably more intense, with a palpable sense of unease and tension. You were in a compromising situation and had placed yourself in a vulnerable position. You could have been sure that you felt the first drops of perspiration forming on your face. However, you were forced to end the discussion before it got to the heart of the matter. The most expedient course of action was to acknowledge that it had happened, even if in a limited way. "It happened on a few occasions when I was drunk, but it was not a regular occurrence," you said, trying to give a concise account. Nevertheless, he was not inclined to inquire about the incident in question.

"Only a few times when you were drunk? Are you crazy? What if something had happened to you?" There was the protective Seungmin you wanted to avoid. You were grateful for his concern and lack of complaints, but sometimes it became unbearable. "Still, it didn't happen. I am mature enough to understand the consequences of my actions, Seungmin," you said, pointing at him with your finger as if to admonish him. "Yes, I am aware of that, but I am concerned for your well-being," he said, grabbing your arm and then taking a bite. It could be described as a unique form of affection with which he expressed his apology to you. "I am aware, Seung, but don't worry, I am fully aware of my actions," you smiled at him, taking his face in your hand and planting a kiss on his forehead. "You should return home, as you are in a rather foul state, Mr Gym," you playfully admonished him, giving him a light tap on the shoulder before he left your domicile.

The working day was going to be quite long.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You were deeply distressed and felt considerable discomfort throughout your body. At work the night before, you were forced to work an extended overtime shift (for which you were paid only half the normal rate). This resulted in a complex set of experiences, including physical pain and a significant financial reward. You were required to have sexual intercourse with two people, a task which you found unpleasant, particularly given the lack of arousal involved. However, the remuneration was satisfactory and you did not express any significant dissatisfaction. You were aware that the nature of the work was inequitable, but you found it necessary and occasionally used it as a means of satisfying certain desires. Fortunately, you had acquired the ability to fake an orgasm, which you used on some occasions, such as yesterday. At that time you were lying in bed, surrounded by books for your upcoming exam, and in a few hours you would have to go to work in the morning.

That night, despite your best efforts, you had to go to a club in the city centre. You had completely forgotten that Changbin was going to take Seungmin and the others to a club in the city centre, which could very well have been the one you were on duty at that night. However, you had not considered this possibility and your mind was so preoccupied that it kept slipping away. So you prepared discreetly for your exam, unaware that that night was the perfect opportunity for you to meet your closest friend, who was likely to be visibly distressed. You were due to perform your duties that afternoon and hoped that the number of customers would be relatively small, given your limited mobility.

The mere anticipation of returning to work that night caused a deep sense of anxiety. You hoped that no one would ask for private shows or other activities that you sometimes found unpleasant. The only desire was to rest and wake in a pool of wealth. You rose listlessly to prepare your lunch. It was not possible to combine work and rest in this way, so you had to take painkillers and vitamins.

You then found yourself preparing and serving smoothies and ice creams in your favourite café. Your day went on as usual. What you did not anticipate was the presence of your closest friend at the table you were to serve. One might ask whether you should not have been preparing for your evening activities. One is tempted to inquire about the nature of their joint venture in a café a few hours before their nightclubbing. They expressed their displeasure at the proprietor's suggestion that they should hurry to serve the aforementioned table, and furthermore, they could not avoid the situation, as Seungmin was aware that this was a table assigned to you, and sat there consistently with the intention of being served.

After a long period of contemplation, you approached them. "Good evening, shouldn't you be getting ready for your clubbing night?" you said, your tone sarcastic. Your friend smiled at you and pinched your side. You wanted to run away. "Jisung is unable to consume alcohol unless he has had a meal or smoothie beforehand," Felix informed him, drawing a scornful look from him. "It is not recommended to consume alcohol on an empty stomach." The boy explained that alcohol is absorbed more quickly into the bloodstream and the effects of intoxication are more pronounced. "Isn't that the point of going to nightclubs? And who told you this? Your respected professor?" the older boy asked jokingly. They looked at each other with a strange expression and Seungmin continued to explain the matter: Jisung had a somewhat unconventional relationship with one of his university professors, characterised by frequent flirting. "I have to respectfully disagree. Minho is a very good professor," he replied, blushing. Her expression was unmistakable. "You're calling him by his first name now, too," he observed, causing a general outburst of mirth, especially the adorable blush on Jisung's chubby cheeks.

"So what can I get for you?" you inquired, interrupting the conversation to take their orders and get out of your friend's company. You were particularly keen to avoid the question from your friend, who would undoubtedly invite you to the evening's event.

You had only been there a few minutes when you noticed Seungmin casting furtive glances in your direction and his friends teasing him about something you did not understand. Unbeknownst to you, they were teasing him about the fleeting glances he was sending your way. "Seungmin, did you notice that you are eating her with your eyes?" inquired Felix, appropriating the cherry from his milkshake. "That's not right," he replied, taking a sip from his glass. "Indeed it is. One might suggest that you ask her out," the blonde continued. "That would be an unusual and somewhat awkward situation, and then I believe she might be involved in a nocturnal affair, or perhaps even a series of them," he said, lowering his head. "And you are jealous! "Which leads to the question if this is what you want to do tonight," Changbin inquired. "Be silent. It is possible that I am indeed jealous. "

The observed behaviour was merely the incessant movement of lips in an attempt to escape the source of discomfort as quickly as possible. Fortunately, twenty minutes later the group left and Seungmin offered you a quick kiss on the cheek. This sparked further merriment among his small group of friends, causing you to become increasingly suspicious. Your only concern was to avoid running into them at the nightclub where you were working that night. This had been your intention since yesterday, since your closest friend had informed you of it. Your anxiety about this matter was greater than your concern about your inability to dance effectively due to the discomfort of the previous night.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

In the midst of your preparations for the upcoming show, you were forced to change your clothes in a hurry. Fortunately, you had already finished your make-up. The evening dress was of a revealing nature and the dancing was expected to be energetic. It was hoped that the wearer would not feel uncomfortable. Your colleague entered your dressing room and informed you that you were about to perform, so you began your usual stage performance for adolescent and middle-aged males.

The only people missing were those you expected to see at the club. The only discernible difference was that they were watching you, watching you with particular interest, especially your closest friend, who opened his eyes wide as he consumed no less than two shots in the space of three minutes. "What is she doing there?" he asked, clenching his fists as he fixed his gaze on you. "I'm sure there must be an explanation, and maybe she didn't tell you because she didn't want you to worry," Jisung said, grabbing his shoulders behind Changbin as Seungmin seemed on the verge of exploding. "She's undeniably attractive," the shorter one remarked, drawing a withering look from the younger one. "Hyung, I strongly recommend you not to make any advances towards her. It is already difficult enough for me not to pick her up from the stage, but I assure you that as soon as she goes to the dressing room, I will not let her get away from me." He downed another shot of vodka.

It is unfortunate that at the end of your nightly performance, another person followed you into the dressing room and you failed to notice the presence of Seungmin, who was standing directly behind you and had suddenly issued a silent threat. The incident was so severe that when you turned around you suffered a stroke and lost the ability to speak. Your situation was indeed very screwed up. "Seungmin, I can..." you were abruptly interrupted and led to your dressing room where he sat you down at your personal table. His gaze was one of intense desire, imbued with the combined effects of alcohol and rage. You had never seen him in such a state. "Explain? What exactly do you want to explain to me? Explain how you sold your body without ever telling me?" He said, grabbing your waist. That should not have aroused you.

"I have economic problems and this is the only job that offers a satisfactory salary," you said in your defence. "I am indifferent to the matter. I could have helped". You are my property, OK? No one is allowed to touch you, Y/N". He then kissed you with considerable passion and force. This was a source of considerable distress for you, as it was different from your expectations of the situation. Although you experienced a degree of pleasure, the situation remained somewhat unusual. His hands were of considerable size and appeared to be a suitable instrument for caressing. "Why not? Who decided that I belong to you?" you inquired in a teasing manner. At this point the situation became increasingly amusing for you as well. "I must now erase the memory of this unclean contact before I had the opportunity to do so," he whispered into your ear before reaching down into the hollow of your neck and allowing you to ingest the substance. "Seungmin, my legs are tired. I am unable to walk," you informed him, indicating your own limitations. "There are numerous other ways to satisfy our mutual desires, and we will address this particular issue at a later time." Furthermore, I am. While I wish to destroy you, I would never take advantage of a woman in this state. Remarkably, he remained in character as the usual Seungmin knight.

"What are you going to do in my dressing room?" you asked, watching as he bent down between your thighs and pulled off the suit you had worn for the evening. "I am not sure. I have a craving, if I may be so bold as to say." He smiled. This young man you had previously considered a potential threat to your sanity. He found your body aesthetically pleasing. He began another insatiable and passionate kiss. His hands descended in a sweeping motion, tracing a path down your body, cupping your thighs and gradually rising to your buttocks, which he gripped firmly in a vice-like grip. "Your beauty is such that it is unconscionable to wait any longer. I want you and I want to play a little," Seungmin said with a sneer in his voice. Then he moved you to the small sofa with the instruction to straddle his body. He proceeded to kiss your neck, leaving a series of marks. It was inevitable that he would bite you, it was apparently a habit of his. You had learnt it from his exes. He would bite you to let you know he owned you, bite you until you bled, and lick the mess he made. This aroused you considerably. He smiled, indicating that he understood. You were in a state where he could do as he pleased. No other person had ever made you feel such intense arousal.

"Look at you, you are ready for me to do anything I want to you." He was not aware of this either.

The young man moved closer to you, initiating another passionate kiss as he cupped your neck with one hand and used the other to caress your intimacy. The movements were slow at first, but soon accelerated as your best friend removed your panties and quickly stroked your clit. When he became tired, he began a long series of kisses on your inner thighs. He then grabbed your thighs and brought them up to his shoulders. He then began to leave kisses on your vagina. "Please don't wait any longer," you said and Seungmin laughed and then began to lick your cunt in a long slow motion. He cupped your ass as he massaged it. You had been waiting for this moment ever since he had put his thin, large hands on your waist the day before.

"Seungmin, please..." you almost begged him before arching your back in a series of involuntary gasps, clinging to the back of the sofa as best you could. You looked at him, pressing harder against his face, wanting more and more. He laughed as he watched the reactions he was provoking in you with each touch, which only served to increase his desire to possess you. He grinned as he continued what he had begun. His hands were firmly harpooned in your bottom and thanks to the pleasure you were experiencing, you had thrown your head back. He laughed again as his tongue continued its work. He found the taste of you on his taste buds particularly delicious, sending him into a state of intense pleasure. He was deeply and passionately in love with you, with every aspect of your being. His nose came into contact with your pubic hair as a result of the depth of penetration achieved with his tongue. He was enjoying himself to a considerable degree, as evidenced by your moans and the pulling of strands of his hair. Seungmin was not uncomfortable with this aspect of your behaviour, in fact he found it erotic in a special way. He smiled as his tongue explored your orifice in slow, circular movements designed to bring you to a state of ecstasy. Seungmin silently enjoyed the experience. His only goal was to ensure your pleasure. His hands moved to the sides of your thighs, which he slapped hard. He took pleasure in leaving his marks, but he would never do anything to harm you; he worshipped you.

Then his hands moved in a circular motion, grasping your thighs and placing them on your shoulders. His mouth, which had previously been in contact with your clit, moved to sink his teeth into your inner thigh. He took pleasure in leaving his marks on you. No one was allowed to touch his woman; you were his and his alone. You were his. A pocket knife emerged from his boot, the purpose of which was unclear. However, before this could be determined, he took your labia majora between his teeth and pulled them towards him, pressing them against his mouth in order to suck your clitoris. This was done in a manner reminiscent of sucking a straw. He then drew a thin line with the blade of the penknife, leaving a streak of blood, all the way to your mound. This brought you to a state of considerable arousal. He withdrew from your vulva, reached up to begin his work, and began to lick the warm, crimson liquid that was slowly oozing from the wound. In addition, the moans of pain and pleasure you gave him drove him to a state of unprecedented ecstasy. The sensation of your mouth alone was more fulfilling than any other experience. He continued to suck on the blood dripping from the wound, causing further lesions on his breasts, around his nipples, in his groin and near his navel. This only accelerated his orgasm. Furthermore, when he inserted two fingers into your mouth, which was already open, he continued to stimulate your tongue. "Look at you... my submissive slut," he said, smiling.

He sneered as he took your face between his fingers. The picture showed you in a blood-soaked state. After a short interval, he withdrew his fingers and proceeded to stimulate your orifice by alternately inserting and withdrawing his digit. This was done in such a way as to create a deep sense of arousal. Seungmin was fascinated by the prospect of fucking you at that moment. "What is your desire, my princess?" "Not that you can do much in this state," he said, laughing, referring to his fingers inside you. "I want to touch you," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the constant moaning. "You can do better than that," he winked, then pulled away and sat you down on your side, then stood up, took off his trousers and sat down beside you. You stood frozen for a moment at the sight of his length; he was tall and compact. You had never seen one like it before.

"I see you are happy with it, Princess," he said, bringing your face close to his. You had fully perceived what he was trying to achieve. You were fully aware of his intentions. You were incapable of uttering any further words, as if his imposing stature had put you in a state of trance. He then proceeded to rub the head of his member against your lips in what appeared to be a teasing manner. It was not difficult for you to open your lips and make contact with the glans. You then proceeded to suck on the tip and then ran your tongue along the entire circumference and veins. You stimulated the testicles with your hands, causing him to moan hoarsely. As you continued to insert him fully into your mouth until you reached the uvula, you let out a moan that caused his member to tremble. This elicited a high-pitched moan from him.

"Fuck, baby like that." He explained that by grabbing your hair and then fucking your mouth, you were sure that you would come again if he continued.Indeed, your assumption proved to be correct.

That is exactly what happened.

"Fuck Y/N, I'm coming, take it off," he said, removing his hand from your hair. But you had no intention of removing your mouth. You grabbed his thighs and thrust his member deep into your throat, causing him to release inside you with a long, audible moan. You swallowed, licked your lips and looked at him. "You are incomprehensibly unaware of the effect you have on me," he winked. "I can, however, inform you of the effect you have on me." You giggled, then reached up to his ear and planted a kiss beneath it. "You have brought me to another orgasm," you said with a hint of mockery.

"Now, if it pleases you, I would be grateful for a date and to clean you up," he smiled as he led you to your private bathroom. "I would be most honoured, sir," you replied, laughing. It was not the ending you had expected.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The experience of being discovered by Seungmin during a night shift would not be on any normal person's bucket list. However, the incident led to a change in your life. Seungmin had persuaded you to quit your job at a nightclub because he was concerned about your welfare and did not want you to be used as a mere object by men. Among other things, he had offered to support you financially until you found suitable alternative employment. He helped you to find a job that offered a comparable income and was adamant that it did not involve the exploitation of your body for sexual gratification. Although you were initially reluctant, given your long-standing opposition to his financial support, you eventually agreed.

The unexpected meeting also took place. He had invited you shortly after your encounter in the dressing room while he was discreetly cleaning up the mess. To be honest, you had never considered Seungmin as a potential romantic partner. However, your perspective had gradually changed over time. Back then, his friends, who were also your friends, had informed you that he had been casting furtive glances at you and had developed an interest in you. This confused you at first, but you eventually got used to it. You also had to prepare mentally for the meeting.

You did not deny that you were a little apprehensive; you were unsure of the destination he had in mind for this evening. He had instructed you to dress in a way that was both comfortable and tasteful, but your anxiety was growing. After a long shower, you began to look through your wardrobe, but it was difficult to choose an outfit without knowing where you were going. In the end, however, you chose a relatively simple ensemble consisting of a black ruffled skirt, not too short, and a top of the same colour that left your shoulders bare and had a boat neckline. You wore your beloved wedges. If you had to choose between them and heels, based on what Seungmin had told you about elegance and comfort, you would have chosen the latter. Your make-up was minimal, your hair was wavy and fell to your shoulders, your necklace was tightly fastened around your neck and all your jewellery was in its proper place. You completed your ensemble with a fruity and very sugary perfume before heading into the living room to wait for your no longer best friend.

Seungmin arrived shortly afterwards with a large bouquet of roses, in keeping with his reputation as a gallant man. You smiled as you remembered that he had not been in bed with you, especially after the knife performance. He said, "For you, my princess," and then kissed you on the lips. The anticipation of the evening's events had been palpable, yet the simplicity of the act itself evoked a deep sense of emotional resonance. The culmination of this experience was the tender kiss beneath the earlobe, accompanied by the words, "I hope you are well prepared as we have a long night ahead of us".

It was your firm belief that if he had continued to talk to you like this throughout the evening, you would have been so aroused that you would have removed your underwear, even if there had been no physical contact. In fact, you sighed before placing the roses in a vase of water and accompanying him to the car. It was a revelation to you that the vehicle in question was of considerable size. It was also admitted that Seungmin looked particularly handsome that night. He was wearing a black tank top and loose black trousers. His appearance was complemented by a leather jacket and jewellery. His footwear consisted of half-heeled ankle boots, which were as black as the rest of his outfit. His hair was lightly gelled and curly. He was a man of considerable qualities and attributes. You licked your lips and he watched, giving you the opportunity to do so. It was inevitable that he would drive you out of your mind as soon as he could.

There was no denying that the car ride had contributed to the evening's events. He held your thigh firmly in his hand and massaged your skin, occasionally reaching under the fabric of your skirt. He was aware that this was having a positive effect on you and you were similarly pleased by the experience. He felt a sense of predatory intent, like a predator with a vulnerable prey in his grasp.

The evening was going well. He had taken you to a modest restaurant at an elevated location, and you had enjoyed a sumptuous meat dish accompanied by an excellent wine. It was obvious that he had not missed the opportunity to cast certain glances at you as he sipped the vin rouge in his glass. He continued to look at you in an increasingly intimidating manner. The conversation went well and you had always enjoyed his company. The topics were varied and engaging, even when a situation had developed between you that couldn't be defined with a specific term. However, it seemed that Seungmin had anticipated your thoughts, as he initiated a discussion on the matter. "Considering that this is a full-fledged date, I would like to suggest that we raise the status of our relationship to boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't think there's any need for a proper dating, as I'm aware of your preferences," he said, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of wine. "I agree, except for one thing: you do not know me well enough to have discovered my clandestine activities." You provoked him, knowing how the subject would arouse his jealousy. "I did not expect you to go so far." "I have always thought of you as my princess and hoped that you would eventually ask for my help." He wrinkled his nose. "Minie, it is important for me to be able to support myself. I am grateful for your help, but once I have secured employment, I would prefer you to stop helping me, okay?" you smiled with a pout in response.

Perhaps I should pay and we could go to my place?" he asked, smiling, before wiping his lips and getting to his feet. You did the same, but were stopped by him. He took your hand and kissed it before leading you to the exit. "This dinner is a date, and I am paying as usual. You are my friend and I will treat you properly," he said, making you blush. The gentleman in question displayed admirable behaviour and etiquette when dealing with women. He knew how to treat women with the respect and consideration they deserved. It is worth noting that in addition to the bedroom activities mentioned above, you had also gained an understanding of his somewhat eccentric behaviour outside the bedroom. You then waited outside the restaurant for him to return. He reappeared shortly afterwards, accompanied by a second bottle of red wine. "It was an excellent meal, and I have a plan for tonight. You'll see what I'm capable of, my dear," he said with a chuckle, then led you to the car and drove you both to his home.

To say that he did not even allow you the opportunity to survey the surroundings, despite your intimate familiarity with the house, was an understatement.

He immediately picked you up and carried you to his bed.

He then disappeared, returning with two goblets of wine.That night will remain indelibly etched in your memory.You watched as Seungmin took off his jacket and black shirt, leaving the vision to his well defined abs and the glittering necklace he was wearing.As you watched him take a sip of wine after almost completely undressing, you had to admit that his actions made your entire body tremble. Your panties were now soaked. "Now, Princess, undress for me," he said, grinning and licking his lips.He then lay on the bed with one hand behind his head and the other holding the goblet.

By this time the positions had been reversed, with the man on the bed watching your every move while you knelt in front of him, removing each piece of clothing until you were completely naked in front of him.

"How beautiful, come closer," he murmured. You approached him on all fours, the naked intimacy of your body matching his, still fully clothed. He watched you for a long time, as if to etch your image into his memory. You smiled and shivered as he began a gentle caress of your form. He caressed your cheek, shoulder and breasts in that order. He then moved to the other breast with his free hand, having previously placed the cup on the table. He began to massage it at a slow and deliberate pace, appreciating the texture of your skin. He then teased your nipple with his fingers, before pouncing on it with his lips and doing the same to the other. One hand, which had previously been at the back of your neck, now moved to your waist, where it began to caress it. His touch was so seductively overpowering that it left you breathless. He applied pressure to your hip as his lips played with your breasts. He then moved to your shoulders, biting and branding them. Your hands were clenched in his shoulders, scratching them lightly as you rubbed your vulva against the covered flap of his trousers. "Wait a moment, I want to feel you on me," he whispered in your ear.

He separated your bodies for a brief moment, then proceeded to undress you completely, allowing your intimacies to collide. "How about riding me?" he asked, smiling and winking. Your lips parted in surprise at the mere suggestion. It was highly unlikely that you would have survived the night. Seungmin was like a mermaid whose enchanting song was meant to captivate and enchant. You swallowed and then nodded in agreement. You applied gentle pressure to the head of his penis between your labia, causing you to pant and eliciting a moan from the Major. He had brought one arm back behind your head while the other held you tightly against him, increasing the contact. You lowered yourself completely onto him, allowing him to enter and fuck you completely, which he did with considerable force. Your moans mingled, accompanied by a soft exclamation of "Fuck!" from him. "Your cunt is both tight and warm, which feels very good. You should start to move," he instructed, and you complied. Normally such an act would have been abhorrent to you, but with him it was all so natural.

As he stroked your hips, you had begun to move at a slower pace. It was a sensation you had never experienced with any other partner. It was as if Seungmin had an innate understanding of the exact places and techniques needed to touch you. Your movements became faster and faster and your nails were driven into his back. "Min, I'm coming. I can feel it. My thighs are burning. Please, speed up!" You were on the verge. "No, not yet," you grunted, then changed positions. You vocalised your displeasure as he withdrew from your embrace, feeling a sense of emptiness. At this point you were positioned beneath him as he continued to penetrate you, his imposing frame towering over you.

You were sure that an orgasm was imminent, given his position on top of you as he thrust vigorously into you. However, he seemed to disagree, indicating that he was not interested in facilitating an orgasm. He claimed that it was too early for such a reaction. So he withdrew from you, leaving you with an empty feeling. "Please, Seung, I can no longer stand it," you begged him. Only after he had pushed you with an animal force did he give you permission to come. "Your warmth and tightness are so arousing...come for me," he whispered, allowing you to release yourself around him. He informed you that they had not yet reached the end of the act. He then turned you over on your stomach and began to leave bites and marks on your back, tracing a trail of them all over your ass. He continued to lick and slap the area between your buttocks, causing you to moan. Despite this, you still had some residual sensitivity from the previous orgasm.

You were unable to speak as he sank back into you, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling it towards him as he thrust violently, abusing your cunt. You arched your back and rolled your eyes, no one had ever given you such intense pleasure. "Ah... Seungmin... please..." you moaned one last time before you came again. "Who gave you permission?" he demanded, thrusting at a surprisingly fast pace. It was relatively easy for you to reach your third orgasm in a row that night. "Seungmin, I'm about to..." The words were barely audible.

"Come with me," he groaned and then proceeded to ejaculate into you and you after him, now exhausted. "I will get you the necessary cleaning supplies," he murmured, then stroked your side and got a cloth soaked in warm, damp water to clean you. He then tied your hair into a braid and made you a cup of hot tea after dressing you in a pair of clean briefs and one of his shirts. "You look so lovely," you murmured, trying to relax on his chest. "It's the least I can do after making you come how many times?" he said, laughing as he pinched your side. "Three, but don't boast, sir," you gave him a tongue-lashing. "Do all gentlemen do it rough?" you burst out laughing.

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[thewizardingpost]

The Sting of Jealousy

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ dating them comes with rewards and consequences, one of which is dealing with your jealous roommate. warnings ⌇ 1.8k, estblashed relationship, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, bullying, injuries (r receiving, bruises), Marauder's coat described as loose on reader, this is my post (I just got a new account)

Whenever you felt like you were taking two steps forward, there would always be a day when you had to take one step back. It was life’s way of reminding you that things aren’t always fair—that for every ounce of happiness, a bad day lurks nearby to keep you humble.

Since you’d started dating the Marauders, it was like you’d been placed center stage with a spotlight shining directly on you. You weren’t completely invisible anymore—their reputations had eclipsed your own. Being friends with them was one thing, but dating them was another—and it had brought a lot of negative attention. You had “crossed the line” for many onlookers. Those who had fantasized about being with the three of them before bed and during classes weren’t happy to discover that you’d taken the place they’d only dreamed of.

They just couldn’t understand why they’d open up their circle for someone like you.

Your roommate—after witnessing a kiss placed on your cheek—felt her heart drop. The door had barely shut before she was moving off her bed.

“Did James Potter just kiss your cheek?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you waved her off, moving to your bed to remove a coat that your roommate immediately recognized as too loose on you.

“That’s not nothing,” she slid over to sit beside you. “How long have you been with James?”

You fiddled with the coat. “And Remus and Sirius. I’ve been with them for a month now.”

She nodded, biting her cheek and looking away. “So the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?”

You watched her stand, eyes following her as she wandered back to her side of the room. The prolonged silence made your heart race just a little faster.

“That you’re a whore for dating three men.”

You felt as if you stopped breathing, your breaths short and shallow.

“What?”

“Others are saying wild things, suggesting you’ve cast spells to get them to date you,” she added, looking at you almost playfully. “Have you?”

“No. Never.”

“Hm. Not sure why that’s hard for me to believe. Anyway, goodnight.”

She climbed into her bed, turning her back toward yours. The weight of her words affected you both differently. It brought a smile to her face, knowing she’d made yours drop.

The next day, you noticed people staring, others whispering behind their hands as they looked in your direction. With the knowledge of what people were saying, you felt self-conscious—walking with your mind tumbling in all directions. Two hands appeared in front of you, gripping your forearms.

“G’morning,” James smiled down at you. You attempted to return the smile, but it felt forced. “You nearly ran into me. Everything alright?”

“I’m alright,” you lied, “I just didn’t sleep well. Sorry.”

He didn’t seem to fully believe you, but he pulled you into a hug anyway. In his mind, he hoped it would help like it always had before, but this time was different. The affectionate gesture caught the attention of nearby students. The glares you received made you pull away from him. You were sure there was confusion and hurt on his face, but you intentionally avoided looking at him.

It was like someone else was controlling your body. You didn’t want to hurt him or push him away, but out in public, it felt like your eyes glazed over. Your focus shifted from the guys to anyone else that passed by. It did nothing but worry them. You noticed the way they exchanged looks across the dining table, but they brushed it off that night—trusting your word that you were just tired.

Back in your room that evening, you found your roommate and a few of her friends lounging on her bed. You offered them a polite smile, but it did nothing to thaw their cold expressions.

“Where are your boyfriends?”

“Back in their room. I can go get them if you—”

“No need,” she interrupted, patting the sheets beside her. “We just wanted to talk to you. Can you come over here, please?”

As you stepped toward them, you found yourself stumbling backward instead. You collided with the edge of her desk, your arm taking the brunt of the fall. The impact made you wince.

The girls smiled, not caring at all that you had just injured yourself on their behalf. You’d been sure the rug had been beneath you, but when you looked down, you saw it had been pulled into a different section of the room. It was almost as if they’d moved it on purpose.

“Oops,” your roommate whispered, wand raised. “Sorry. Just trying to prepare you for when the boys inevitably ‘pull the rug out from under you.’ By that, I mean they’ll dump you.”

You blinked back tears, rushing out of the room. With your room occupied, you were thankful there was one place you could go—their room. Even before you’d started dating them, they’d always welcomed you to stay.

James opened the door when you knocked, his wide smile faltering when he saw your expression.

“Who’s at the door?” Sirius asked from inside. James opened the door wider so Sirius could see.

“Would it be okay if I stayed here tonight?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome,” James said, stepping aside so you could slip through. He sent a glance to the other two as you did. You settled at the edge of the bed, Remus sitting closest to you, a book on his lap. James flopped back on the ruffled sheets near Remus.

Usually, when you came over, you were greeted with hugs and kisses all over your face. You missed the teasing and planning for the next day. Now, the room was silent, and all their attention was fixed on you.

“Are you okay, dove?” Remus’s voice was soft.

“Yeah.”

“Anything happen?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Sirius swung his chair around, dropping the front legs to the floor as he leaned in. “We can all tell something’s bothering you. You keep looking off like there’s a ghost in the room.”

“I’m fine. Honest.”

“Like hell, you’re fine.”

Remus shot Sirius a look, and he threw his arms up in exasperation. James moved closer, sitting beside you and rubbing sweet circles on your back. When his fingers brushed over your left side, where you’d collided with the desk, you couldn’t help but flinch.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed James flinch too.

The room went still. The tension was palpable, freezing everyone in place. You heard Remus stand up behind you.

“Can I lift your shirt?”

You nodded, allowing him to pull up the side of your sweater. He examined the spot where you’d winced earlier. The welt was just beginning to form, but there was enough swelling and color to worry them.

“Is this why you’ve been distant lately?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into Remus’s gentle gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you.”

He shushed you gently. “Don’t apologize. Can you tell us how you got this?”

“I swear to Merlin, if anyone else caused this injury…” Sirius began, but he stopped when James placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s let her explain first before we jump to conclusions,” Remus said, his thumb gently brushing over your hand, urging you to speak.

“The other night when you dropped me off, my roommate saw you kiss me goodnight. For some reason, she brought up the rumors people have been saying about us, about me. And… I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have pushed you all away over a few rumors.” You glanced at James. “And just now, at my room, I think she pulled the rug out from under me—like a cruel prank. She said she wanted to prepare me for when you’d do the same.”

James’s grip on Sirius’s shoulders tightened as he tried to stand. “Really, James? You’re going to stand there while her roommate is in the room right now? Perfect timing, don’t you think?”

“I know,” James replied, holding Sirius back. “But it’s better to deal with this now. Look,” he nodded toward you, seeing you weeping into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “I should’ve told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Remus asked gently.

“I didn’t want to be a bother. I thought you’d all dealt with stuff like this before.”

“We have,” James chimed in. “But we had each other. We learned to tune them out.”

Sirius threw his hands up. “I’m only coming to talk to her. Calm down.” He turned to you, his expression softening. “Look, gorgeous, I’m sorry for what she said and did. None of it was warranted. My only regret is that you didn’t come to us sooner. If you’d told us what she said right after, she never would’ve done what she did just now. I can promise you that.”

You smiled through

your tears, and the sight made his lips twitch upward.

“You’re right,” Sirius continued. “Even if you told us, it wouldn’t stop people from being arseholes. But it would’ve meant we could care for each other. You don’t have to go through that alone, alright? Promise you’ll talk to us next time?”

“Promise.”

[ghoul-bonez]

~To You He Feels Like Home~

(Neteyam x Fem! Na’vi! Reader)

Summary: You were always a wild child, literally and figuratively. You were raised by the forest and by the creatures that lived within it, and you would never want it any other way, but when you were discovered by another Na’vi you are overcome with curiosity although the animals that raised you always warned you about the outsiders.

Word Count: 5.1k

Author’s Note: This is my longest oneshot to date, at 5.1k words & 11 google docs pages, and I’ve been working on it for weeks now… Hopefully you guys will like it :D This fic was inspired by @imeanwhynotbruv ‘s Mowlie! Spider AU which I LOVE!!! Very excited for y’all to read :)

~Last - Next~

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

To You He Feels Like Home

You were always wild, even as a young child. Part of that could be attributed to who was raising you, how you were being raised, and part of it was because of your personality. It came down to nurture versus nature, or nurture and nature.

You were wild by nurture, raised by the Great Mother, by her forest, and by the animals that inhabited it. In particular there was a mother palulukan who had taken you into her den with her two cubs. She was your protector, your teacher, your mother. She loved you, and that was all you needed.

You were wild by nature, always bouncing around, never able to sit still. You were fierce and strong, stubborn at times, and intelligent as could be, which you used to your advantage. It was good for your survival, but exhausting to your mother palulukan, and the other animals who had taken you under their wings to teach you different survival skills.

They had all had a part in your upbringing, every animal teaching you something different. Their lessons had turned you into the woman you were today, they had taught you how to survive, and not just that, but how to thrive.

The palulukan had taught you to fight, how to attack and pounce, and win. She had taught you to protect yourself in any situation. She had taught you that no matter how small you were, how weak you may seem to your opponent, that there would always be a way to come out on top.

The syaksyuk had taught you how to swing from tree to tree, how to escape from harm's way quickly, may you choose not to fight. They taught you about community and how to work together to get to your goal.

The yerik had taught you how to scare off predators, and if that didn’t work how to run, how to pace yourself and run for longer than you thought you could. They taught you to stay calm, to not let fear overtake you as you ran.

The nantang made sure you knew how to hunt, how to stalk then attack and finish off your prey. They made sure you could feed yourself. They made you work in a team, to take everyone's different skills into account.

The ikrans that visited from the mountains taught you how to navigate the air, although you could only do so with their help. They would show you how different different parts of the land were. They showed you what you and your family of creatures looked from above.

Your upbringing was untraditional and many Na’vi would question how you had even survived, but you knew how. There was a sense of community in your animal family that could never be rivaled. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Of course there were still things you had to teach yourself, like weaving and making clothes. This had taken some trial and error as you had started as a very young child, needing to form this skill for more protection against the elements and the forest. You had figured it out later than you would have liked, but eventually you got there and had created your own outfits.

Then you had to teach yourself how to make weapons, and how to use them. You had mastered making spears out of branches when you were young, and quickly moved on to finding hard enough materials to make knives and other blades. When your mother palulukan had noticed your proficiency of making weapons she had started bringing back lost Na’vi weapons like bows and hunting knives.

After lots of trials and errors, from carving the body wrong to tying the sting wrong, you had mastered making a bow. You had found the perfect type of wood, strong enough to hold up, but soft enough to carve. You had found the perfect string made from woven plant fibers. When you carved your final masterpiece the curve of the wood was perfect and the string strung tightly enough to work perfectly.

Then came using it. You had never seen anyone use one, and your mother palulukan refused to let you anywhere near other Na’vi, so you struggled. You had tried over, and over, and over again, and eventually it paid off. Your stance was wrong to most, strange looking to others, but it worked perfectly for you.

With all of your combined skills, ones the animals of Pandora had taught you and ones you had taught yourself, you had become a lethal hunter. Once you proved yourself capable your mother palulukan let you off on your own.

At the age of eighteen years you had been sent free, allowed to explore as you wanted, and so you did. You ran through the forest with excitement coursing through your veins. You climbed and swung from tree to tree without a care for your safety. You swam in streams and shook the water from your loose hair as you resurfaced. You hunted for your own food, coming up successful every time.

You felt free.

You had been so used to your mother palulukan hunting for you that doing it on your own was enthralling. It gave you a rush unlike any other, but you never took more than you and your family could eat, dragging it back home to your palulukan family’s den.

Your little family had never eaten like this before. They had never had a meal every day, sometimes going as many as five days without food, instead giving leftovers to you, the little Na’vi they had taken in who needed it more than they did. Now you made sure they were fed daily, you took care of them like they had you.

As much as you loved the takedown of your prey, your favorite part of hunting was the stalking. You loved tracking things, finding a scent trail and following it until you found prints in the ground. You loved watching the prey once you found it, staying hidden in the shadows and observing.

Sometimes you would even track when you weren’t hunting, practicing for later or simply wanting to observe the other animals of the forest. You especially loved watching the nantang packs as they were similar to your family but also so different.

Today had been no different, you had been out searching for the trail of a nantang pack wanting to watch and observe. However that plan changed when you caught a whiff of something you had never smelled before. It reminded you of something, yourself, but you didn’t know why.

You couldn’t help but do what you do best, stalk. You followed the scent, staying close to the ground, slinking around, and watching the dirt for prints from any type of animal. When the trail stopped and there were no prints in sight you were confused, where had it gone, you questioned.

Then it hit you, the trees, it had to be in the trees. You weren’t in the mood to climb right now, not wanting a chase in the trees, but you might not have a choice. You took a breath, steadying and readying yourself, slowly looking up to the trees to see what you would be chasing, and once you caught sight of what it was you gasped.

It was you, not quite, but something like you.

He had your blue skin, stripes laid across his skin and white freckles splattered across his body and face. He had your dark hair, but his was put up in braids, something you had no idea you could do. He had your large golden eyes which were widened just like yours right now.

You were perplexed. You knew you weren’t the same as your family, you knew you looked completely different, not the same species, but you hadn’t ever seen another person like you. You didn’t know there were other people like you.

The other person looked just as shocked as you, and he was. You looked Omaticaya, but he had never seen you before, and he had seen everyone in his clan as the next Olo’eyktan in training. He hoped you weren’t Omaticaya because of how rough of shape you were in. He never wanted anyone in his clan to be in this rough of shape.

You had scapes all over your body, little scars scattered where past cuts had been. Your hair was loose and messy, knotted and in need of a good brush and braid. As he studied the strange girl in front of him he was concerned for you, for the state you were in, but to you the unkempt hair and scars and nicks that cover your body are normal.

To you they feel like home.

To you the scrapes and scars, the cuts and nicks, feel like home. They feel like the forest as you run through the underbrush, barely dodging trees and roughly catching your arms against them accidentally. They feel like jumping into streams and rivers, scraping your knees on the rocks at the bottom as the current sweeps you off your feet. They feel like hunting as you accidentally catch your finger with your blade as you finish off your prey.

To him they were worrying, they showed pain and danger, but to you that was normal, pain and danger were regular parts of your life. To him it wasn’t, and he felt the need to make sure you were okay. You were standing strongly so clearly you weren’t too injured, but the idea of you being one of his people made him feel the need to check you over, to help you.

He jumped down from his hiding spot, gracefully landing in front of you, and suddenly you took off. You sprinted away, terrified of the stranger. You wanted to make your way back home, back to your mother palulukan and the den you called home. You wanted to be safe, you wanted to feel safe.

The man lagged for a second, thinking, before deciding to follow you, taking off after you. The chase went on for a while, his lungs burned as he kept up with you, close behind, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up, and you didn’t seem to be slowing down.

“Wait, I just want to help!” He shouted after you, but that seemed to spook you more and you sped up.

You had no idea what the strange man had said, but his loud voice scared you. The sounds he was making were foreign to you, and it frightened you. He was communicating in a way you never had before. The way you communicated with your family was hisses and growls.

You were a good runner, had good stamina, but he seemed to be keeping up, although you could tell he was getting tired. The unfortunate part was you were getting tired too, and you would have to stop soon. You figured it would be good to stop sooner than later so you had enough energy to fight in case the need arose.

You saw a clearing to the right and zagged that way before stopping on the far end of it, crouched down like a palulukan, ready to pounce. The man stopped on the other side, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Like this he looked less scary, he looked weak as he was out of breath, like you could win this fight easily.

He looked at you through the braids that had fallen in his face, and his eyes held no malice. He wanted you to feel safe, or as safe as possible, around him, so he showed his weakness as he was out of breath. He wanted you to know he wasn’t going to hurt you as he showed you had easily outran him.

However you still felt threatened.

Your eyes were blown wide, adrenaline coursing through you as your mind ran a mile a minute. Your ears pinned against your head and you let out a wild hiss at the man, bearing your teeth and snapping them together a few times as a threat.

He didn’t challenge you back, instead dropping to the ground to sit with his legs crossed, arms in the air as a sign of surrender, or peace, that he meant no harm. He tried to make himself look harmless, tried to make himself look smaller.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, why wasn’t he challenging you, you asked yourself. You weren’t convinced he meant to harm You couldn’t let your guard down, and your hand flew to your knife at your hip as you snarled at him, trying to elicit a reaction.

He then realized he had his own weapons on him and he lifted his bow over his head from where it rested against him, and threw it to the side. He hesitated as he took his knife out of its holder, but he threw it next to his bow a few feet away.

“They're gone, okay.” He pointed to the weapons where they laid, “I want to help you. I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to explain.

Again you didn’t understand him, ears twitching at the unfamiliar sounds. Now you were more stressed than before. You stayed in place, ears pinned to your head again as you growled, but your hand moved away from your knife.

“There we go.” He spoke as your hand fell to your side, “What's your name?” He asked.

You felt the adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion starting to catch up to you and making you less hostile than before, blurring the lines of your fear. Your eyes were narrowed as your head tilted to the side, a questioning look on your face. You were scared because you couldn’t understand him, but you became more curious the more he spoke.

His voice was interesting, smooth and calming. You hadn’t heard anything like it before, and although you looked similar you weren’t sure if you could make the same sounds as him, accustomed to growls and hisses.

When you didn’t say anything back the man tried something different. He pointed to himself, “Neteyam.” Then he pointed to you, humming, “Hm?”

You growled back, trying to communicate the only way you knew how. He just cringed, taking it as aggressive while you were simply trying to voice your confusion.

He tried again, “Neteyam…” He pointed to himself, not saying anything else afterwards.

“Neteyam.” You whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Then you cleared your throat, “Neteyam.” You parroted.

“Yes. Neteyam.” He nodded, happy you seemed to be getting somewhere, “You?” He asked, pointing to you.

“Hm?” You hummed, copying the noise he had made to you earlier. You thought it was a questioning sound, and you hoped your assumption was correct.

Something clicked to Neteyam, “You can’t understand me, can you?” He asked, not particularly expecting an answer.

“Hm?” You questioned again.

“Okay…” He took a second to think. Who were you? Where did you come from?

“Neteyam.” You spoke again, getting his attention. You then pointed to yourself and growled, you seemed to be trying to communicate something, and you were. You had growled your name, what your palulukan family called you.

He didn’t quite understand you, “Hm?” He asked.

You just growled again, pointing to yourself. Clearly this wasn’t getting anywhere.

“I’m going to give you a name, or a nickname I guess.” He told you, but you didn’t understand. If you had known what he had said you would have disagreed adamantly, you don’t need a different name, you have one already, but you didn’t understand, so when he pointed to you and said, “(Y/n).” The name sounded beautiful, and you loved the way it rolled off his tongue.

Your head tilted to the side, confusion written on your face, but you didn’t protest. Instead you nodded your head, seeming content, “Neteyam.” You pointed to him, “(Y/n), hm?” You pointed to yourself questioningly.

He smiled, “Yes.”

“Yes.” You copied him, but you weren’t smiling, still confused by the foreign words.

He patted the ground in front of him, inviting you to sit by him, but you don’t approach, instead sitting where you were a few feet away. He seems so calm, so relaxed, as he sits with his legs crossed and arms behind his as he leans on them. You however are stiff, skittish, as you sit on your knees, hands in your lap. You looked ready to take off at any second.

Neteyam tried to calm you down with reassuring words, even though he knew you couldn’t understand him, his calm tone seemed to take off the edge. You were scared of him, but slowly starting to believe he meant no harm. He wasn’t dangerous.

As you sat there with him he went on, and on, talking about whatever came to mind with that smooth tone. You could sit there and listen to him talk forever, but soon the sky is darkening and you realize it is time to head back home, to the comfort of your den, your mother would be waiting for you when you get there. She would be ready to allow you to cuddle up next to her and let go of the stress of today.

You’re not frantic when you stand up, instead more fixed on having a mission, to get home, but Neteyam doesn’t understand that, and so he stands up after you. You don’t pay him any mind until you start walking away and he follows you. Frustrated that he’s trying to follow you, you hold your hand out towards him, hissing.

“No!” You shout, a word you had picked up from Neteyam talking to you.

“Oh.” Neteyam simply comments. You were a quick learner apparently, picking up on the word and figuring out how to use it already.

You turn away and start walking off, and this time he doesn’t follow you, waving towards you and saying, “Goodbye, (Y/n).” He pauses before saying quieter, “I hope I see you again.” Not loud enough for you to hear.

Your mother palulukan was confused that night when you came home without a meal, but when you broke down in tears she moved to comfort you. You let out all of the stress from over the past few hours in tears and sobs, and eventually you stilled, fell asleep on her large warm body, and finally you rested.

You had intended to never see Neteyam again, but you kept running into him. It was frustrating and confusing. You had no idea why it kept happening, but of course you knew Eywa had a plan for everyone, and everything happens for a reason, but you weren’t sure why she was so insistent on putting you and Neteyam together.

The day after your first encounter you had your second meeting. You had been trying to hunt when you somehow ended up back at the clearing. You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but you gave in, sitting with him for a while before continuing your hunt.

The third time, the third day in a row now, you had been napping in a completely different area of the forest when you woke up to Neteyam looking at you curiously. It wasn’t necessarily in a creepy way, but it had spooked you at first before you calmed down. This time you did not stick around, walking off with a dismissive grunt to Neteyam.

The fourth time, a few days later, he had found you while you had been frolicking around in the Hallelujah Mountains. You had been hiding out there, trying to avoid him by not even being in the forest, but he had found you again somehow.

That went on, and on, until you admitted defeat, accepted your fate, Eywa was determined to have you and Neteyam together, and who were you to deny the Great Mother’s will. She knew all, and you trusted her, so you took her lead.

Every time you ran into Neteyam you would spend a little more time with him, and eventually that time built into hours, and then days, from sunrise to sunset you would spend your hours with him. You cherished your time with Neteyam and he certainly enjoyed your company, your attention.

Your palulukan mother was less than pleased with how much time you were spending with the Na’vi boy, but she understood you needed companionship with your own kind. She figured you would grow curious eventually and would venture out in search of people like you, and she was proud of you for making a friend, but she wished you would be home a little more.

When you finally gave into spending time with Neteyam you figured you should learn how to communicate, learn to speak his language. You would much rather teach him yours, but yours was more general emotions and less words, less actual conversation and more communicating how you're feeling through growls and hisses, hunched shoulders and bared teeth.

Today you were sitting by a river, somewhere Neteyam had shown you, as he tried to teach you the Na’vi language.

Neteyam pointed to different features on his face as you named them quietly, touching them on your own face as you went, “Ears. Eyes. Nose. Mouth.”

“Good job!” He praised you, a smile on both of your faces.

You were learning slowly, struggling to pick up a second language so much different from your first, but when you grasped a certain word you had it for good. You had started using the words you knew in basic sentences like “How you?” when you would first see him. You would listen intently as if you knew everything he was saying although you only picked up on certain words.

What really got Neteyam was when you would say goodbye when you parted ways at the end of the day. Instead of saying “Goodbye.” or something similar you would blurt out “Love you!” as you walked away.

It always got Neteyam’s heart beating in his chest, hard, and he couldn’t help but smile every time. He would say, “Goodbye (Y/n). Love you too.” because the one time he hadn’t reciprocated you had pouted and nearly cried.

He didn’t think you understood the significance of those words, of the word love, but you definitely did. You didn’t use it lightly, it being the only word you had learned to describe how you were feeling for Neteyam, and it described your feelings perfectly.

You truly did love him, as a friend, maybe more.

You appreciated what he did for you, but it went so much deeper than that. You loved how he was patient with you, giving you all the time you needed. You loved his voice, how he would talk to you even if you didn’t understand. You loved how he laughed, how he smiled, how his eyes seemed to glow when he was around you.

You love him.

You loved him like you loved the forest, it’s green foliage keeping you safe throughout your life. You loved him like you loved your mother palulukan, like a warm hug at the end of the day. You loved him like you loved the sounds that played all around you constantly, drowning out your negative thoughts.

You love him like home.

As you were mulling over your feelings, thinking whatever came to your mind, you had been zoning out, gone silent as you looked off into the distance. Neteyam took this chance to mess with you a little. He scooped up some water from the stream in his hands and threw it on you, bringing you out of your thoughts as the cool water hit your face.

You gasped, “Neteyam!”

He just laughed, pointing at you as your jaw was dropped, brow muscles raised, and eyes open wide. Your look of offense amused him and your look quickly switched to a scowl, and Neteyam felt himself still, that was never a good look on you.

You moved quickly, smiling mischievously splashing water onto him too. He looked surprised, like he hadn’t expected this from you, and you used that to your advantage, splashing him again, harder this time, with more water.

This time he was quick to move, trying to grab you and throw you into the deeper part of the river, but your reflexes were faster than him and you got up, running away like a mad woman. You smiled before jumping into the river, submerging your lower body before he could do it for you.

You thought hard, trying to form a coherent sentence, when you thought you had it you shouted, “Come get me!” Taunting him.

As you taunted him he just smiled, a sense of childish joy overcoming him. It reminded him of when he was younger. When he and his siblings would play in streams closer to home. When his father would play with them. It reminded him of family, you were quickly becoming family, but in a deeper way.

He loved you like family, he loved you like a calm afternoon at home with everyone sitting around, talking and playing games. He loved you like a partner, someone to share his own home with, where his family could come over for dinner and share stories. He loved you like someone new to the family, like someone his family could learn to love.

He loves you.

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam asked, smirking at you. He stayed where we was on the river bank, feet barely in the water.

“Yeah!” You shouted, challenging him by splashing the water around you.

He seemed to be contemplating it, over exaggerating his movements dramatically, “I don’t know… I might just stay here…” He joked.

You frowned, not understanding his joking tone of voice, “Fine…” You turned away from him, getting ready to leave the river.

However you didn’t get the chance when you heard splashing behind you, and it was too late. He ran up to you splashing you, getting your entire back wet, including your hair.

You whipped around, gasping both at the cold water and the shock of not expecting it. You shouted at him, arms crossed over your chest, “Rude!”

Neteyam laughs loudly, “Oh I’m rude? You’re the one who told me to come get you.” He defended himself, rolling his eyes.

“You…” You thought of what word to use, not sure what the word for this action was, you settled on, “hit me first!”

Neteyam was quick to correct you, “Splash, the word is splash.” He really did not want you telling people he was hitting you if you ever met his clan. He hoped it was less of an if, and more of a when.

You took in the information, “You splash me first.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling you won the conversation.

“And I’ll do it again!” Neteyam laughed, running at you, ready to throw more water in your face, but you turned to run away from his attack.

As you were running you slipped, falling to your knees and feeling pain shoot through one of them, “Ow.” You hissed out.

Neteyam was quick to rush to your side, helping you up and walking you to the edge of the river where you sat down. You inspected the cut, it wasn’t much and you would be okay in a day or so, “I am okay.” You tried to assure Neteyam.

Neteyam frowned, “I’m sorry. Let me fix you up?” He asked.

You knew if you said no he would practically beg you to let him help you, so you gave in, “Okay.”

Neteyam sat down, pulling your leg over his lap so he had better access to your knee. He inspected the small wound, thinking about what Kiri had told him would be best for it.

He was quick to pull out the little pouch of healing equipment he had, herbs and plants, pastes and drinks, he was equipped for anything. He had decided to carry anything he would need to treat your small cuts and scrapes because every time you would see him you would have more and more. They never seemed to stop coming, so he promised he would do his best to help you.

He pulled out a paste you recognized, and before he could speak you mocked him, attempting to copy his voice, “This one will sting.” You fell into a fit of giggles afterwards.

He just chuckled at you, “You’re right.” You seemed to always be right, you picked up on other things, besides learning the Na’vi language, easily.

You smiled, sighing happily, “I know.”

Neteyam hums, smiling at you , “Tell me, how have you been? What have you done today?” He tried to distract you while he put the paste on.

It worked as you quickly responded, “It has been great. I have gotten to see you…” You trailed off, smiling shyly, before continuing, “This morning I went on a hunt, took food home to my mom. My siblings are moving out finally, so it is just us now. Less mouths to feed.”

“Good… Neteyam answered simply, focusing on what he was doing as he wrapped a bandage around your knee.

“Thank you.” You pulled his face up to look at you, a small smile was on your face, lips gently curved, eyes softened to liquid gold, “For everything.”

He sighed, content, as his face melted into your hand, pressing your skin to his, “It’s really no big deal. I would do anything for you. I would get you anything you need, anything you want.” He admitted softly, quietly.

You smiled, leaning in and pressing your forehead to his, “I know, and Eywa do I love it. I love you.”

He smiles back, the happiness reaching his eyes, and if you listen close enough you can hear his heart thumping in his chest, ready to pop out, “I love you too, (Y/n). I see you, and I will show you that every day.

Every time he tends to your wounds he is so careful, he is so careful with you. He is careful in a way the forest has never been, in a way it never will be in the future. The forest gives you safety in the form of protection through the hard and marred skin you have covering your body. The forest shows you its love through injuries you’ve sustained from your years of survival, it gives you love by allowing you to survive.

Now you don’t need the love of the forest, you need the love of him. He feels like scars, and bruises, and cuts, and pain. He feels like safety. Like how you once had found safety and solace in the cuts and bruises you bared, how your unkempt hair and scars felt like your home, to you he feels like home.

Word Bank:

Great Mother (Eywa)

Palulukan (Thanator)

Syaksyuk (Prolemuris)

Yerik (Hexaped)

Nantang (Viperwolf)

Ikran (Mountain Banshee)

Omaticaya (Forest Na’vi)

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Eywa (Na’vi goddess)

[caelivir]

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he���s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

[moirindeclermont]

5+ things I love about Colin Bridgerton

(feel free to add your own if you want).

This will also be very horny, sorry but my mind is costantly in the gutter these days.

1) He is a man of unhinged action. This man, once he realized that he loved Pen, wasted exactly 0 moment before sending propriety so far away it wasn't even mentioned and then proceed to anhilate any obstacle on his road. He wanted Pen, no one (beside Pen) could make him come back from it.

2) He loves watching Pen experiencing pleasure. Everytime they are intimate he can't stop watching her. He gets off so much from it, he just can't help himself. He make sure she gets the best experience possible because it means so much for him.

3) King of consent. One of the sexiest thing to ever grace this earth, the way he is costantly comunicate, asking before doing something, giving Pen choice and agency, listen to her feedback both verbal and non verbal. Colin Bridgerton the man you are.

4) Demisexual king. This man wants connection and intimacy. Yes, he has sex with the sex workers, but his heart is not in the moment and as soon as he discover what is that's missing, even his body is not in it anymore. He just needs that pull you can only have when you're fully involved with another person.

5) He takes accountability for his mistakes. He says things he doesn't mean and he makes mistakes, but he also take action and actually improve and grows because of it. He learns that to be a good partner he just have to support and stand by Pen's side, no need to chance because Pen just loves him as he is.

6) He feels so much. As someone who also feels so much (as it is Pen) it is endearing and nice to watch someone going from the depth of despair to the highest of high. Sometimes it's just like that, and when you feel so much it's bound to have some drama moments.

7) He is a gentle!Dom in disguise. He just loves to guide Pen through the experience of intimacy, but he can't resist a nice places "lie down" that still makes my knees weak. You know there will be many first in which he will guide Pen in a similar way.

This man has capture my heart and soul. It's been weeks but I can't stop thinking about him and all of the things that makes him the softest boy with a strong backbone, my personal favorite combination. This man just wants to be loved and, luckily, he found his match in Pen. They could never make me hate you, Colin Bridgerton.

I'll do a 5+ things about characters, scenes, ships... Ask your own (about Bridgerton, IWTV, SPN or Buffy)

[yankpop]

Yandere BTS: Punishment - Maknae Line

DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes that includes yandere/dark. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. 

Check more: Masterlist.

Female reader

WARNINGS: Toxic/Unhealthy Relations; Implied Kidnapping (Jimin/Jk) ; Violence.  

AN: Hope you guys like it 💖 Let me know!

--

Jimin

“No, no, no, please… Jimin, please!” you desperately plead, fear striking deep as his hand slowly stalks towards your ankle, his fingers teasing the soft skin with a cruel smirk on his lips at watching your reaction.

“Oh, baby, where’s the tough girl attitude now? Gone?”

You keep your lips tightly closed, eyes wide open, anxious over what is coming. 

“So sad, I was enjoying seeing you pretend to be someone that you clearly aren’t.” Jimin pouts his lips, mimicking a baby voice as he makes fun of you. 

But immediately his amusement soon dies, the smile scarily slipping from his face as irritation replaces it.

You hate how bipolar Jimin seems at times. 

“You should've never - never - had gone against my word. Had you been a good girl to me, there would be no need to be putten back into your place."

"But you’re a stupid, dumb girl.” he spits to your face as his fingers dangerously narrow around your ankle, making you wince in distress. 

You shake your head, eyes watering with silent pleas that go by ignored. 

“Bad girls don’t deserve rewards. They deserve pain. That’s what you deserve, you little bitch.” 

An ear-curdling scream escapes from your lips as Jimin snaps your ankle, the bone cracking with a sickening sound.   

“I wanna see how far you will run away from me with a broken foot.”

V

Access denied. 

You almost choke when the notification shows up. It can’t be real. It’s a glitch or a mistake.

It has to be. 

But no matter how many times you log into your bank account, the app warning is the same. 

You simply don’t have access to the money in the bank account. Your own money. 

You’re so distraught by this that you don’t even notice Taehyung leaning against the door, eyes carefully seeing you. 

“I suppose you’ve discovered it.”

You look up, a frown on your face. 

“The bank… my account... it’s not-”

“I cut your access to it.” the words leave his mouth as if it’s no big deal. 

“What? Why? It’s my money!” your voice wavers when he raises his brows, slightly annoyed at your burst. 

“And you’re my girlfriend, so your money is mine too.” Taehyung solemnly declares, tongue poking in his cheek. 

Your mouth drops open at his words. A flame of anger ignites inside you, only to be quickly smothered underneath his hard gaze.

“You need to-”

“No, you need to start behaving like you actually have a brain in that head of yours.” he interrupts you, raising his voice above yours, shutting you down. “You’re nothing without me. You can’t even control your own life, let alone your bank account.”

Taehyung’s tone gets meaner with every step he takes, slowly moving forwards towards you. 

“Anyways, why do you even need money if I’m here to provide for you, babe? You need me and nothing else.”

Jungkook

A pained cry escapes your lips as the belt roughly connects with your sore ass. Your hand grip the sheets tighter, pain spreading through your back, making it harder to ignore.

The deep breaths you attempt to take are a failed exercise that doesn't help you at all, if anything it only makes your pain worse. 

“This one is for lying to me.” Jungkook declares, voice filled with contained anger. You can only cry as the skin of your arse burns, sobbing when he twists your wrist to keep you from writhing around. 

Another sharp hit has you burying your face into the bed sheets, muffling down your sobs. But you’re still able to hear him speak. 

“This one is for betraying my trust.” 

“This one is for being disrespectful to me.”

“This one is for spitting on my face.”

By the time Jungkook is finally over with the punishment, you’re dissolved into a complete mess of tears and snot, shaking and flinching at every movement you take. 

Your ass is literally on fire, the skin too sensitive to handle the punishment you just received. 

He pushes your limp body against his, forcing you into an unwanted hug. Jungkook presses a loving kiss to your sweaty forehead, humming as you cry. 

“You know that I didn’t want to do this, right? But you gave me no other option, love. If you had behaved, this wouldn’t have happened. It’s your own fault.” 

His tattooed hand gently pushes some hairs out of your wet cheek. 

“Hopefully you’ve learnt your lesson, babe. Cause I don’t mind repeating this punishment.” 

[voxisdaddy]

Ice Cream

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Velvette x Reader

Type: Headcanons + Drabble

C/TW: Swearing, mentions of sex, Velvette might be a bit OOC, little to no mention of reader but it’s implied, angst

In which we see how Velvette deals with her break up with reader.

Saw a comment saying something about how Velvette is the type of girl who eats ice cream when she’s sad and it got me thinking of Velvette after a break up with her s/o. So now here’s that lol headcanons + Drabble

Pt.2 Pt.3

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Velvette I can imagine just being angry over a break up rather than sad. Doesn’t matter how it ends, I just know she’s be mad.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She’s usually pretty easy to read; judgemental, quick witted, snarky, mean, and demanding. So when she’s unusually quiet in the Vee’s lounge, eating a tub of ice cream while watching some Hella Novella, the other two Vee’s are, on some level, freaked out.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ They’ve dealt with Velvette post breakup before. She’s angry. She’s mean. She destroys things in a fit of rage. No one can calm her down. Sure Vox can calm down Valentino-but that’s Valentino. The moth pimp can’t even use his smoke to try and calm her down when she’s like this. She might be “new” among the overlords and not have decades upon decades of experience being in hell, but she’s observant. She stays far away from Valentino’s smoke and charming ways as much as possible. She wants to stay mad.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This time though it’s different. Vox and Valentino had discovered the break up. Not personally from Velvette or you-whether or not they know you personally is up to you-but Valentino, who stalked your sinstagram profile the night before, noted to Vox that all the pictures of Velvette on your profile just disappeared. Vox is a busy man, so he didn’t exactly have time to quickly check and have a gossip session with Valentino. But by the time he was able to, your account didn’t even exist anymore. You deleted it. Oh ho. Now this is interesting.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The two greeted her as usual, trying not to act too different. Valentino had a knowing smirk on his face though. I mean, how could he not? Seeing someone down in the dumps was just oh so fun~

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ In turn, Velvette just hummed in acknowledgement-muttering about grabbing another tub of ice cream from the freezer. Vox raised a brow behind her back but did retrieved the tub of ice cream anyways. It was a little thing, not like those big tubs of ice cream. But still, Velvette seemingly intending to eat it all was mildly impressive and concerning.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Valentino joined Velvette on the couch, getting high and eating some ice cream as well. Well, from a tub of his own. Velvette doesn’t particularly like to share-but then again, none of the Vee’s do. Vox ordered some dinner to be delivered, taking off his coat and bow tie before joining his fellow Vee’s in front of the television. Velvette rolled her eyes at the two joining her on the couch. Can’t they see she wants to be left alone?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The night comes to an end with Velvette storming out of the lounge with her dinner and a half tub of ice cream.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This routine would continue for the next 3 weeks; Come home, find Velvette eating ice cream by herself in front of the tv, try to have a decent dinner, Velvette storms off.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ It wasn’t until one night where she cracked.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ They had ordered dinner for delivery again. Tonight Velvette had not asked for anything super specific. The Vee’s knew her enough to know her taste anyways, they could figure it out. And if they don’t, that’s too bad for them now is it?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The food came and Velvette felt her dead heart crack. This was your favourite…

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She scowled, angrily taking her food and marching straight to her personal quarters in the Vee Tower.

“Fucking-OF COURSE they get me this!” Velvette threw her phone at the sofa. She paced around the living room, angrily stomping about and muttering obscenities under her breath.

She huffed before throwing herself on the couch. She clutched her phone as she scrolled through her sinstagram account. She had yet to delete any photos of you on her account. People in the comments were quick to point out how your entire account just seemed to have disappeared, meanwhile Velvette still held onto your pictures on hers.

Their was much speculation about the current status of your relationship. One account was wiped and one remained as though everything was fine. She opened her saved stories and looked through the anniversary pics.

She stopped on a video of the two of you giggling together. Both of you kind of sweaty but feeling quite relieved. You had just finished a session together and were now just laying in bed giggling while holding each other. You were both glowing from the anniversary sex.

The pinkette scowled.

“How dare you dump me?! I’m Velvette! I’m that bitch! I’m the backbone of the Vee’s! You can’t just leave!” She screamed, staring at a picture of you and her together.

Harsh stomping could be heard from Velvette’s floor. Vox rolled his eyes. Satan—even Valentino’s tantrums aren’t usually this obnoxious. Violent yes but stomping? What are they? Suddenly 6 years old or something?

Okay Vox’s weird preferences for tantrums aside, Velvette, uncharacteristically, found herself crying on her sofa.

Every so often she’d be looking at a picture of you, sniffling and glaring harshly.

“I coulda given you—everything!” She swiped to the next photo, “I have money,” next picture, “fame,” next picture, “respect,” she stops on a video of you saying ‘I love you’ to her.

“…”

She slams her phone down on the couch before turning to glare at the now cold dinner sitting on her kitchen island. The meal is flung to the floor in a fit of rage.

“To hell with you!”

Oh ho—you will pay.

Yes. You most certainly will.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 11

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky had no idea that someone was making an evil plan against him. He had been advising you on managing Velari’s business for the past few days.

You quickly grasped the management concepts, learning from the best, Bucky. Another reason for your quick understanding was your previous business studies at a prestigious university. However, you couldn't continue your education due to internal conflicts within your family.

That was your biggest regret. You only bark but never bite. You managed to continue your education only because Cassandra sold her jewelry. You will never forget the sacrifice she made for you. You clenched your fists, remembering the heartbreak in her eyes when she sold her cherished possessions.

But still, whenever you tried to rise, life seemed determined to bring you down again. Genevieve used all her connections to prevent you from learning business and management.

You discovered this when you confronted the dean, who said, "Mrs. Sinclair donates a lot to this university, and we don’t want to disappoint her." You had felt a cold rage, your hands trembling as you realized the extent of her influence.

Most prestigious universities denied you. The only place that accepted you was a community college, where you randomly chose to study health and physical education because, at that time, you felt utterly lost and alone.

You just wanted to get a degree, any degree. You sighed, recalling the sense of defeat and the hollow feeling in your chest as you enrolled in a field you had no passion for.

Sometimes not expecting anything gives the best gifts. The lecturer and friends you met were the most supportive and kindest people you had ever encountered. That’s how you got the job as a teacher at Granite Hills Reform School, where problematic, delinquent students from all over the country were gathered.

It was tough at first; your teachers and the principal had warned you to be careful. But you felt like you could make some changes because you knew how the students felt: not being listened to, getting bullied, not being appreciated, and being ignored. You remembered the frustration in their eyes, a mirror of your own past struggles.

Comparing the discipline required for dealing with delinquent students who always gave outrageous excuses, working at Velari seemed easier.

After redefining the clothes' design with Andrea, you felt like the old Velari was back. You never thought redoing the design would be easier than looking at the accountant's records.

It was a mess. You ran your fingers through your hair, your brow furrowed in disbelief.

You scratched your head, unable to believe how much the business was bleeding. Bucky was also reading the numbers. "If you don’t do something, Velari will be closed in two years." His tone was serious, and his eyes met yours with concern.

"Urgh." You threw your head onto the book on the table and hit it a few times in frustration.

Bucky extended his hand and placed it on your forehead. His warm hand held your head gently. "Don’t worry, you can fix this." His touch and reassuring words made you pause, feeling a flicker of hope amid the chaos.

You felt your face warm up. Bucky noticed too. "Are you having a fever?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

You quickly moved your head away from his hand and shook your head. "No, I guess I hit my head too hard," you replied, trying to downplay your flustered state.

The chat between you and Bucky didn’t go unnoticed by Andrea, the senior designer. She bit her lip and continued drawing, stealing glances occasionally.

Bucky cleared his throat. "If you want, we could make a press release for a new rebranding for Velari."

"That’s a good idea," you nodded. "Can we also include AstraNova Group in the press release?"

Bucky nodded. "Sure." He looked at his watch and got up. "I’ll send the PR team to help you with the press release."

"Thank you," you said, your gratitude showing in your smile. Bucky smiled back and left the room.

"It was so sweet, I can't even describe it," Andrea remarked, taking off her glasses and smirking at you.

You felt your cheeks warm up again. "It's not..."

Andrea raised her hands in a mock surrender. "I won't tease you, but I saw how he always comes here and even stays with you until late at night. It says something."

You sighed, looking down at your hands. "I don’t know... To be honest, I don’t believe in romance after what I saw happen to my parents."

Andrea nodded sympathetically. "I understand, but not every story ends the same way. Sometimes, you just have to take a chance."

Andrea sighed, then approached you and gently took both of your hands in hers. She looked at you with a mix of concern and nostalgia. She remembered the first time Ophelia brought you to the shop.

You were cheerful, always laughing at the most minor things. But everything changed after Ophelia died, and not even a year later, your father remarried. Understandably, you have trauma around love and opening your heart to another person.

“Give it a chance,” Andrea said softly, squeezing your hands. “If both of you share the same feelings, that’s good. And… if Bucky cheats, I’m sure you could give him a lesson.” Andrea chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You chuckled too, the tension easing from your shoulders. It would be a lie if you said you didn't have feelings for Bucky. You glanced down, your cheeks flushing slightly.

Andrea noticed your expression and gave your hands another reassuring squeeze. “You deserve happiness, just like anyone else.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks, Andrea. I'll think about it."

Andrea smiled warmly, patting your hands before letting go. “Good. Now, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a lot to do.”

👗👗👗👗👗

Since his memory returned, Bucky has been practicing touching other people. He started with his parents first. Though he still couldn’t hug them, he could hold their hands without feeling disgusted. His mom and dad were astounded and cried at the same time.

Finally, they could have physical contact with their son again without Bucky feeling nauseated or acting like they were germs. As parents, it was heartbreaking to see him struggle. The kidnapping stole Bucky and their chance to be an average family.

Juliana sipped her tea while watching her son read the newspaper. "So, today you’re going to be the honored guest at Velari?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Bucky nodded, not looking up from the paper.

"I never thought my son could be interested in fashion," she teased again, her eyes twinkling.

"Mom… I’m just… repaying the favor," Bucky replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah… right," Rowan and Juliana murmured together. Because of Bucky’s condition, he never had the chance to have an intimate relationship with someone. He spent his youth only studying. So now, with Bucky and you? They couldn’t be happier.

Bucky wanted to smile at his parents' teasing but held it in. He stood from his seat, adjusting the buttons on his jacket. "I don’t want to be late."

"Why so early?" Juliana asked, looking up from her tea.

Bucky kept walking toward the door where the car was already prepared for him. "I have to stop by her house first."

"Tell her I said ‘Hi’," Juliana called after him, a knowing smile on her face.

Bucky paused at the door, turning slightly to nod before stepping outside. As he approached the car, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing you.

🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖

Bucky arrived at your house and, as usual, greeted Cassandra first. She looked much healthier, having gained some weight since the first time he met her. Even with her dementia, Cassandra was always friendly to everyone. She was sitting in the garden with a blanket on her lap.

“Hello, Grandma,” Bucky greeted her warmly.

Cassandra’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ah, Patrick. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? Did you have breakfast?”

Bucky smiled softly, though he didn’t understand why she called him Patrick. After meeting a few times, she started using this name. He had mentioned it to you, but you didn’t know who Patrick was either.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” you said, walking into the garden while adjusting your earrings.

Bucky fell silent, momentarily mesmerized by how different you looked today. Cassandra noticed, too, and clapped her hands in delight. “You look so beautiful, Ophelia. Did you make the clothes from my design again?”

You bent down and kissed her cheeks. “Yes.” Bringing your mother’s and grandmother’s designs to life was one of your greatest joys.

At least Genevieve and Victoria had never gotten their hands on the earlier designs. Kneeling beside Cassandra, you took her wrinkled hands and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to revive the old Velari.”

Cassandra tilted her head and caressed your hair gently. “I believe in you,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and trust.

🚗🚗🚗🚗🚗

The ride to the press release was quiet. You kept silently memorizing the speech you were going to deliver to the journalists and critics. In the fashion world, critics' words held significant weight.

Bucky sensed your nervousness. “Don’t worry. You can do this,” he said, his voice steady.

You took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yes, I can do this.” Then, you looked at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude. You had reached this point mainly because of him.

“Bucky… I…” Your eyes widened when you saw Bucky’s intense focus on you, and he reached for you. “Wait…”

“Get down!” Bucky shouted, dragging your body away from the door. The movement was swift. As the car stopped at a red light, a big SUV suddenly rammed into Bucky’s car.

The car window shattered, showering you with glass. “What the fuck?” you exclaimed, feeling a mix of shock and fear.

Then you realized the person who had shielded you was trembling. You looked up to see Bucky, his face pale, his body rigid.

The traumatic memory of his kidnapping had resurfaced with startling clarity. He had just wanted to go home early from an event hosted by AstraNova, finding the party boring with no kids his age. But that decision had led to his abduction, a memory now mirrored in this moment. The nightmare was returning: the darkness, the cold, and fear.

“Bucky?” you called, trying to snap him out of his frozen state.

‘Bang.’

You hear the door closed from the SUV and see three big guys coming into your car. You saw the driver is fainted. “Shit.”

You touched Bucky's face urgently, trying to break through his fear. "Bucky, look at me! I know you're scared. Me too! But we can't stand still. We have to run. Argh…" Suddenly, strong arms grabbed you from behind.

The person was big and rough, wearing a ski mask. He muttered, "You're a firecracker, aren't ya?" His confidence wavered when you stared directly at him.

You continued kicking and squirming to escape his grasp, but his strength was overwhelming compared to your students'. Where was Bucky?

“Bucky!!!” you screamed, desperately searching for him.

“Don’t worry about him. We just want you,” the abductor sneered as he dragged you toward the waiting car.

Fear surged through you as you realized what was happening—had you just been abducted?

You kept kicking and struggling against the abductor, but he gripped your leg harder. “Be good, or I’ll break your fucking legs…”

“Help!” A voice suddenly cried out, weak and desperate.

You and your abductor both turned toward the sound.

What you saw was beyond anything you could have imagined. Bucky, whose body was smaller than the abductor's, had launched himself into action. With surprising strength and speed, he grabbed the other abductor and threw him in a wide arc.

The abductor struggled, choking and gasping for air. His resistance faded, and he went limp, unconscious. Bucky discarded him like a sack of garbage.

Your abductor's voice trembled with disbelief and frustration. “Fuck, she didn’t mention any of this.”

You were equally shocked. You had never imagined that Bucky possessed such strength and skill.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky had been quietly preparing himself for such situations. He had learned various martial arts and survival techniques, practicing diligently despite his physical limitations. Unable to spar with others, he had honed his abilities with machines and workout equipment, constantly pushing himself to the highest levels.

Now, faced with real danger, Bucky's training revealed itself. His strength and determination were beyond anything you had ever seen from him.

Andrea echoed in your mind, "If Bucky cheated, you could give him a lesson." If she could witness this moment, she would indeed be astounded.

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[pinkandgoldensoul]

CS#55 || So? || oneshot

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If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc sister!reader (feat. charles leclerc!brother) genre: secret relationship, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of smut (minors DNI), angst tw: panick attack, brief mentions of death (Hervé), swearing other notes: relationship between Carlos and Charles SUCKS. Consider it out of character, if you will. (Check Disclaimers above) Also, on the desktop version (the themed one) some of the spacing formatting isn't working, so I suggest reading it on the regular page (does it make sense? the one with the blue background. Edit: nevermind, the formatting glitches everywhere. Just... pretend it is fine.) word count: 24.2k plot: what could possibly go wrong if you hooked up with a handsome man who you too late discover to be your brother's teammate after said brother had tried to keep your existence unknown to his colleagues?

Hope you enjoy it ♥ If you do, please let me know! Thanks in advance to whoever will like, reblog and comment!

3 new messages from Lando where are u? want to celebrate with you you were my lucky charm today

>>♥<<

A bored night in the warm breeze of May, laying on the sofa with eyes fixed upon your phone’s screen: it was all you needed to twist your life around completely. Not even the breathtaking scenery outside the glass window could cheer you up: palm trees absorbing the orange shades of the sun, the placid ocean roaring on the shore, the pavements brimming with people. Miami’s perpetual heat weakened your limbs and consumed them slowly and steadily.

Charles had invited you to the race in the USA, hoping that the nice weather and the lively nightlife of Florida would perk your interest. «I honestly can’t believe you’re not coming to the club with me, that’s rude.» «Lan, you know why…» To be fair, spending time with Charles should’ve been a valid reason itself to hop on board the plane, without subtle hints to help you choose. And yet, he knew you wouldn’t have accepted his offer as easily as your mother or your brothers would. «Yes, but jeez, you can’t hide forever…» «Charles won’t let me. He wants me for Imola and Monaco too.» «No way he convinced you to do that.» «He promised to pay for anything I want while travelling with him.» It rubbed you the wrong way, and he knew it; he was sorry not to see you on any of his weekends, and you knew it. «Oh, now it makes sense.» he pauses. «Must be sad to be alone, though.»

After you had landed in Miami, being the youngest and the newest of all Leclerc’s, those two days in the paddock had been a nightmare: you had been asked to release some interviews, always receiving absurd questions on your brother’s behavior towards you, as if you weren’t independent enough to take care of yourself. The trap was set. To which your reaction was hiding in the flat Charles had booked for you and at the same time dreaming of breaking the confinement. «Maybe I won’t be alone…» «Uh? What’s up?» Exiting your first serious and disastrous relationship – as if anyone could know how to handle another person’s feelings at 21 – you had decided to experiment and not settle to rigid ties anymore, opting for fling burners instead, inspired by the air of freedom and possibilities of Florida. «I’m currently… scoping the surroundings.» You had created a Tinder account for the purpose. Scared that someone, despite your brief appearance in the paddock, could recognize you somehow, you had added pictures in which it was almost impossible to tell your face features apart and you had transfigured your surname in Clerc, enough to get away with it. It was as easy as breathing: no strings attached only in the bio, search set on matches near you by location and swipes. Lots of them. As toxic as it could be, receiving so much approval enticed you greatly, but at the same time filled you with inexplicable sadness. You knew nobody was there to stay. «Need to search elsewhere when you have me? I’m not enough for you, am I?» Despite how boldly you had followed your proposition, you hadn’t acted on your folly yet. Sure, you had been texting with some guys, but nobody had conquered your attention well enough to really drop the talk and meet them in person. You simply craved someone to take notice of you and let you know. «Lan! Of course you’re enough, silly.» Because you had craved it all your life.

>>♥<<

Through the endless swiping of new faces that Miami offered you, spread on the couch, your half-closed eyelids suddenly batted open. Chili. Mmh. Weird nickname. Sus as heck. But boy, was he handsome. You kept staring at the photos of his card, and well… His facial features were barely visible, or not displayed all together at once – in one pic his lavishly thick hair, in another one his glossy eyes, in yet another one the plumpest and most inviting lips on earth… –, but you had quite made out his body, and it didn’t surprise you at all to read in his short bio that he was an athlete. «I could tell, honey.» you whispered to yourself, still bewildered. A pleased smile adorned your lips as you read the other lines of the bio. Just searching for some good fun, no commitment. All you wanted on a silver plate, right before your drooling heart. A rush of excitement cursed through your fingertips as you swiped right and immediately opened the chat, halting in search of the right words to type.

hey, nice to

What the fuck, it doesn’t have to be this awkward and formal. You pouted in reflection, then deleted and re-typed.

hey, want to hang out?

Too straightforward, it seems like you’re the neediest girl on earth…

love your profile, I’d like to get to know you more

And this is just pathetic. Clingy and stalkerish when he asked for no commitment. You huffed in frustration and threw your arm over your eyes to conceal the hard truth: your inexperience and naivety wasn’t to be changed overnight by downloading a dating app. Looking back at the phone, you were ready to spend another hour figuring out what to say, when you noticed a new text on the chat.

are you free to hang out tonight?

Straightforward would’ve been fine, after all. Because the bluntness and directness of his text shook you deeply within, pulling strings of yearning, curiosity and utmost fascination.

yes, ofc > can i at least know your real name? cause i don’t think it’s Chili, right?

You saw his typing dots.

Carlos let’s meet at the Regent at 9

Panicking on Google Maps to search for the address, you saw another notification pop.

the dress code is quite elegant, but i’m sure you’ll wear something nice both for yourself and for me as well can’t wait to meet you

Cheeks burning red, dazed by the whole interaction and its speed, dizzy with adrenaline, you had no more focus than what’s required to type:

> me too

>>♥<<

You tried to relax your muscles under the hot night breeze, as the sun still lingered on the horizon before setting down. Nervousness stuck the dress on your skin, as much as it dried your mouth and throat. Your only shield: sunglasses. Wearing them at any time of the day was a habit you had unknowingly inherited by Charles. As soon as he had picked it up, he had bought you – well, gifted you, since he had an awfully huge collection of them – a pair of Ray Ban’s for your birthday. Whenever you two would hang out together, not often, and he’d invite you aboard his Sedici yacht during the summer break, at the sight of those sunglasses his lips would stretch in his unmistakable dimpled smile.

The walk on the pavement seemed endless and a thousand thoughts crossed your scattered mind: years and years of recommendations from Lorenzo thrown to the wind only to hang out with the first guy met online. Not even met: just let him do the talk on his own and had you wrapped around his finger.

Your sandals moving in shorter steps as you approached the lounge bar, you eyed a standing figure, casually leaning near the entrance, whose small smile momentarily melted your knot of anxiety. Carlos didn’t even give you time to greet him and take in his overwhelming presence that he placed his hand on the small of your back, gently but somehow already intimately, directing you towards the entrance. «Sorry, I’ll explain later. Let’s get inside.» «Sure!» Your voice betrayed the attempt at sounding confident with its squeakiness. Mentally facepalming yourself for it, you couldn’t stray your gaze away from his hypnotizing features: he seemed older than what you had thought while observing his profile pictures (and you had consumed them with staring, so it definitely wasn’t due to lack of attention) and he exuded a timeless charm quite inexplicable.

As soon as he asked the waiter about his – therefore yours – reservation, you were both given room and led to an inner area of the bar, way quieter and with fewer tables crowding it. He pulled the chair for you, like a true gentleman, and took a seat, grinning wide as you both settled. «Sorry for the hurry, I didn’t mean to sound rude.» «No need to apologize!» you quickly hushed, already blushing by the proximity. «And sorry if I asked you to hang out with no warning, but I’m leaving tomorrow morning and… I definitely needed to meet you first, y/n.» The name and the thick Spanish accent had sparked the thought, but his words were a confirmation Carlos was probably in Miami by chance, as much as you were. «Well, I’m leaving tomorrow too, don’t worry. And I wouldn’t have accepted if I didn’t want to be here.»

You exchanged a delighted stare, while going through the menu in search of your cocktail order and, consequently, of relief. Though, the pleasant tension you had felt, like a string pulling you to him, as soon as you had seen him, had gradually disappeared and had left space to a growing sense of ease, almost familiarity: words, together with the liquid content of your drinks, flowed without interruptions, and you touched a wide variety of topics, always finding yourselves on the same page. «Thank you for choosing a quiet place. My moves are constantly watched…» you sighed. «I came here last year and I really enjoyed how chilled out it is. Makes me relax.» Carlos leaned back into his chair, so that his collarbones immediately popped under his tanned flesh. «So you’re always chased too?» «Not as much as my brother, but yes.» «Is it because of him? Is he known?» «More than known, yes.» you smiled. «My life is reserved, compared to his.» Carlos took a sip of his drink with a sympathetic smile. «Would you prefer a quieter life?» he asked. You raised your glass, lost in thought. «Maybe, but that would mean my brother isn’t successful anymore, so no. I really can’t complain about my life, I’m… lucky.» you pulled a small smile. «I wish I were as grateful as you are.» Carlos sighed, and his resignation intrigued you. «Should you be?» «Oh, yeah, I think so.» he took another long sip, then wetting his lips clean. «But I’ve had paparazzi around me since I was young and I can’t bear the media’s attention anymore.» «There’s nothing wrong with that. You shouldn’t feel forced to gratitude.» you calmly prompted.

His pupils were quite enlarged, you noticed, and glazed with softness: your hand was laid close to his, almost at a fingertip’s distance, and for a moment you both glanced down at them, craving the same touch and connection your minds and feelings had experienced. It had only been half an hour since you had crossed The Regent’s threshold guided by Carlos’ hand and you were already perceiving a mutual tenderness none of you anticipated nor searched for, and which you now couldn’t let go of even if you tried. After chuckling to each other at the miserable sight of your emptied glasses, you both agreed to order a second round of cocktails, which flowed effortlessly down your throats as a sweet-toned conversation left your tongues. You learned about his passion for most sports, laughing and being entertained by his anecdotes, only to feel flustered by his sudden questions about you.

Finally, after staring satisfied and content at each other, Carlos asked for the bill, which he insisted on paying. Waiting for it, you hummed to the music playing inside the cozy lounge bar. He frowned, clearly amused. «Do you like this song?» he asked. «Of course I do? Who doesn’t?» You light-heartedly mouthed him smooth operator as Sade’s voice sang the chorus, moving along to the beat. Carlos couldn’t stray his eyes away from your enchanting figure and acknowledged how smitten he had already become after only a casual talk. He honestly wouldn’t believe you were only searching for a good time as he was. Apart from looking desperately beautifully young, you had a cheerful glee in your manners, a youthful spark inside your eyes which lured him in way more than he would’ve liked. He had given up on his wicked intents as soon as you had cheered him down the street with your flustered smile; he had been soft and warm for you already before sitting at your booked table. He had enjoyed talking with you more than he’d had with any past fling. He could tell you were someone different, someone to be treated with care, somehow; and the biggest surprise was that he didn’t mind at all undertaking such a delicate task.

After paying the bill, Carlos got up right away, implicitly inviting you to do the same. «Come, I want to show you a place.» Taking your sunglasses in your fingers and lightly fidgeting with them, a smile still lingered on your lips from the thrill of conversation. «Where?» Carlos grinned, placing his hand on yours to stop the nervous work on the Ray Ban’s temples. «Do you trust me?» His touch sent your whole body in trance and sudden anticipation of further exposure all at once, like a rush. Was it okay to trust a stranger? And on top of that, a devilishly handsome one? Was it okay to let him guide you God knows where in a foreign country with the darkness of the night approaching? You nodded. «Yes.» «Let’s go, then.» And with a swift move, he took the sunglasses out of your loosened grab, wearing them on, leaving you breathless as the thicker frame fitted his masculine features stunningly.

The botanical garden was barely ten minutes away from The Regent, making it pleasant to walk under the setting sun of Miami. To your surprise, some areas of the garden were empty, so that your quiet stroll with Carlos felt like an intimate travel in astonishing oases of peace, silence and chirping birds, drowned in the relaxing green of leaves. You walked alongside, so close and so slow that your hands were always on the verge of touching, until you both naturally reached to the other and sealed them in a secure hold. You smiled, buzzing with warmth. As sun rays cut through the leaves and chased your figures, you couldn’t help but be caught in staring at Carlos’ glowing skin while he was talking. «Have you ever been to Spain?» «No, never.» you shook your head. «You need to come, for sure. The weather is even better than Florida.» His genuine, happy grin made one burst on your face too, suddenly blinded by a sun beam. «You should visit Monaco, then.» you replied with pride. «You mean the Principality?» «Yes. I live there.» «Too bad I’ve already planned to move there months ago.» You stared at him, shook. How many chances were there? «And now that I know you live there, I’ve got another good reason to hurry up.» You eye rolled, flustered, brushing your upper arms in a poor attempt to dust off the cozy, warm feelings blooming in your chest. «Can’t wait.» you murmured, smiling.

Abruptly, Carlos stopped as you were crossing a small wooden bridge inside the garden, facing you and gazing low to your intertwined fingers. The soft rocking sound of water and the inebriating smell of night descending on Florida slowed the flow of time. «I, uhm… I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you.» he began. «I really like you. This is the most fun I’ve had with someone without having to get naked since a long time.» Carlos kept caressing your fingers with his, flickering his eyes back and forth from yours to your hands. «I know that you probably expected something different from tonight…» «No, it was perfect.» you stepped in. «Indeed, it was.» Carlos smiled, still shyly looking down. «But my job makes me really busy. As much as I’d like to spend more days with you and enjoy moments together, I’m constantly travelling across the world and… I don’t want you to think I don’t care.» «I wasn’t-» «And I don’t want to force you to follow me everywhere I go, especially because we both would be exposed to the media and… I guess we’re both tired of it.» «We… we don’t need to go at full speed. We can try to keep in contact the times you are available. There’s no rush.» you suggested, leaning a bit nearer.

Only then you realized how close you had got, Carlos’ starry eyes boring into yours. «Don’t you feel an urge?» he asked, husky. «I think I do.» you simply managed to breathe out, a bit shaky. «But I have no problems in waiting, and we’ll meet up whenever-» It rained on your mouth, a waterfall of bliss and honey through the touch of his plump lips: instead of releasing a pent-up tension, it sharpened the yearn, hands searching for a place of belonging and rest on your respective bodies. «I’ll text you every day.» he said in between the kiss. «Don’t make promises you can’t keep.» you chuckled. «I always keep my word. You’ll learn to know me.» «Such a lover boy.» you whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

>> 2 new messages from Lando so did you hook up? > hottest man alive, but we only kissed lame >> 2 new messages from Chili🌶

look who’s with me

You gaped, an immediate grin spreading on your lips.

guess when you’re seeing them again

«Y/n, can you help me with the vegetables? Charles and Alex are going to be here any minute!» «Yes, mom, I’m coming.»

> omg have you planned something? you bet >> 1 new message from Lando don’t tell me you’re down for him already      > i am, plus we’re seeing again woah what happened to the whole “I’m never going to date again PERIOD”?      > disappeared as soon as I met him ♥ gross send me a pic of him rn

«Y/n?» «I’m coming!» you said loudly, finally getting up the couch and walking towards the kitchen, eyes still glued to your phone.

>> 1 new message from Chili🌶 and what about you?      > what?

«Here you are! Take this, cut these carrots, please.»

have you planned anything for me?

Pascale sighed as she was still handing the knife to you.

     > you bet

«Never mind.» «No, mom, I’ll do it, give me the knife!» you whined, stuffing your phone in your pocket. She immediately smiled at you, a glint of curiosity and mischief not going unnoticed to your trained eye. «Who was it?» she chirped. «Lando.» «Oh, how is he doing?» «Good.» Your phone buzzed as new notifications popped in, wearing your nerves so thin you had to quickly take it out the pocket and put it on silent. «Eager to talk to you, uh?» «What?» you rapidly turned your head to her. «Lando. It’s him texting you, right?» You didn’t know, but something told you your cheeks were flushed, indeed, that they had been all along since you had stepped next to the kitchen counter. A picture. What if Lando could recognize Carlos, being into sports more than you were? What if Carlos didn’t want to be shown around, after the privacy talk you had shared?

>> 1 new message from Lando want to judge myself      > gatekeeping his beauty from your unholy mind > sorry

>>♥<<

During lunch, you stayed pretty much silent, always taking the chance to clear plates and bring them to the sink so that you could check your phone, unnoticed.

please tell me you’re free this weekend i organized everything, you’re going to love it

You stared at the bottom of the sink.

it’ll be just us no paparazzi shit

Plopping an apricot on the pottery fruit basket, you glanced outside the window above the sink, a line of gray clouds aligned at the horizon, casting a dark shadow onto Monaco’s corner of sea.

You placed the pottery full of fruits in the middle of the dining table and took a seat. Charles swiftly grabbed an apple and unapologetically gave it a big bite, making everyone chuckle at his antics. Everyone, but you. «So…» he said, still chewing. «Ready for Sunday? The forecast says it’s going to be sunny all day.» «Can we ride watercrafts this time? I don’t want to lay on the deck for twelve hours.» Arthur chimed in. «Yes, of course.» Charles nodded, taking another bite. «But I’d do that in the afternoon, when the sun isn’t too bright.» «Deal. We need to organize a watercraft race!» «I know, right? What about-» «I don’t think I’m coming.» Charles, who was seated right in front of you, stopped chewing and gave you an expressionless glance. «Why not?» «I think I got a sunburn in Miami and I don’t want it to get worse.» Charles’ left eyebrow quickly raised in annoyance, then he shook his head to himself. «I don’t believe it, but you’re free to stay home.» he said monotone. «I won’t stay home.» you said quiet, but still somehow assertive. At this point, everyone at the table – Lorenzo, Alexandra and Pascale included – were staring at you in anticipation, trying to decipher your words. «I’m going to Provence for the weekend.» Charles scoffed, taking another huge bite out of frustration. «You’ll spend two days hiding under a rock, then, if you really want to avoid sun exposure there.» «Charles…» Pascale tried to warn him. He bored his eyes into yours, so that you read right away his disappointment painted in bold letters. «Some days I feel like I don’t have a sister at all.» As your mother scolded him again, you could see drops of venom fall from his lucid lips, as he had stabbed a full syringe of it right in the middle of your chest, which had caused you to abruptly stand up, hands on the table, eyes wide like a mad woman. «And I’ve been feeling without a brother every fucking day of my life, Charles.» Lorenzo intercepted your arm as you fled to your room, getting up and chasing you but not fast enough to stop your march; he was met with the cold, white wood of your door like a slap on his face, still pleading you to open it. A simple hiccupped sigh, tears pricking your eyes. Vision blurry, you took your phone.

can we leave earlier than Saturday?

You spent the evening crouched on the bed, feet pressing the duvet, fighting feelings away. It haunted you all at once, as it usually would: breaths would pick up the pace, matching your scattered thoughts, heart beating loud. Lorenzo had knocked on your door several times throughout the evening, while you overheard a constant muffled talk in the living room, sure of the discussion your dramatic departure had ignited. It was still a fresh wound. It still bled through the skin. Never having your father nor your brother aside when it mattered. Lorenzo had tried to suffice, being the eldest; he probably was the only one who had seen you breakdown before, the one able to at least take your loneliness into consideration. Out of all the people in the house, he was the one to patiently check in on you in the darkest hour of the night, knowing you’d be still awake. He was the one who hugged you and hid your sighs with reassurances, among your broken “I can’t do it”, the one to cup your wet cheek while sitting on the bed. As every other night. «Please, let me leave this weekend, I don’t want to come…» you chanted, like a prayer. «Of course you can go, no one said you can’t. It’s all good.» The one to cradle you, to caress your messy hair, to cuddle you to sleep in your twin bed. >>♥<<

You landed in Jerez on Thursday, around midday. Crossing the exit of the airport with your suitcase in hand, you got swamped with a wave of heat. Sun shining way too bright for your eyes to keep open, you placed a hand on your forehead, shielding them, so that you could spot Carlos’ car more easily. It was hard; indeed, he hadn’t chosen anything fancy like most sportsmen do, but opted for something low-key instead. Once you had caught sight of Carlos’ luscious hair and silhouette at the driving seat, you confidently walked towards the car, quite surprised to see it was barely decent and clean. Without hesitation, you loaded your suitcase and took the passenger seat, throwing an inquisitive glance. «Couldn’t you find anything nicer than this… car wreck?» He chuckled. «You’ll see why we need it.» In a flash, Carlos leaned over to grab your seatbelt and put it on for you: he seized the chance to linger a few inches from your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. «I missed you.» «It’s been barely a week!» you giggled. Since he still hadn’t moved away, you cupped his cheeks and left another quick peck on his lips, being too adorable and handsome not to. «But I missed you too.» you added, soft. «That’s what I wanted to hear.» he whispered with a grin. And with that, he finally put on your seatbelt, ready to switch the engine on.

The road was a lonely stripe in the middle of burned-yellow lands, hills and the smallest villages punctuating the view. You pointed out all the Spanish flags you could see, amused, letting your arm wander in the warm air outside the window. After more or less an hour of travelling from the airport, when the street started to get uphill and quite bumpy, you rapidly understood Carlos’ vehicle choice. «Where are we going?» you beamed. «Be patient, we’re almost there.» You reached a crossroads: you could either keep driving uphill or follow down a path on foot. Carlos parked the car in the small space available before the fork. «C’mon, let’s go.» he gestured. «But we’re in the middle of nowhere!» you protested, getting out of the car. Carlos opened the trunk and took your suitcase, snatching it before you could even imagine carrying it yourself. «And what do you think this is?» You raised your eyes up to the point he indicated and your jaw dropped: right at the side of the crossroads, there was a beautiful one-store small villa, with huge glass windows and a skillfully-made path of stones leading up to the entrance door. The white tint of the walls gave a sense of freshness and broadness, paired up with the same simplicity achieved through its squared forms. Carlos approached the small gate, taking a pair of keys from his pocket. «Is it for us?» you asked, dumbfounded. «Of course.» he stated matter-of-factly. Still struck by the beauty of the landscape – the sea roaring behind your back, the hill dominating it from above – you hurried up behind Carlos, following the stoned path.

«We’re staying here because this way we’re closer to the beach and to another place I’ll show you on Sunday.» «Good, because I almost only packed swimwear, as you’ve told me.» You both chuckled. Eyes still wandering around the room, enamored with the designing choices – warm and light tones both for the wallpaper and the furniture – you then ultimately placed your stare back on Carlos’ towering figure, inevitably feeling a burst of excitement and thrill. Before you could move an inch closer to him, he cleared his throat. «Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.» The shower in the bathroom made you want to strip naked and immediately get the best out of its luxury: black stones, golden details, a small basket full of products only awaiting usage; a huge mirror above the modern-styled sink. «I’m going to spend hours in here, I’m telling you.» you said, still in awe. Carlos laughed whole-heartedly. «I can’t blame you.» You then walked into the bedroom, first noticing the king-sized bed; then, a huge, curtained glass window caught your attention, pushing you to get close and unveil the breathtaking scenery concealed behind it. «That’s the beach we’ll go to.» Carlos said, still standing at the door frame. You turned your head to him, lips slightly parted. «Carlos, this is… It’s incredible, thank you so much.» He walked over to you, smiling in delight, guiding you back into the sightseeing pose with his hands, gently. «Thanks to you for accepting.» he said, low-toned. Maybe it was May’s bright sun making heat creep up your cheeks, or maybe it was Carlos’ touch on your burning skin; maybe you hadn’t lied to Charles when you had said you had got a burn in Miami, a severe one, something not to overlook, because Carlos was drowning you in explosive helium, and the same reckless rush had ignited you both, bringing you under the hot sky of Spain. And now that you were hypnotized by his overwhelming presence, you could only search for his eyes in the reflection of the window, gulping as you noticed he was doing the exact same. The vision of his fingers dancing on your skin hit you deeper than the mere tactile perception, as if you had just become aware of the tantalizing movement on your arm. You saw Carlos’ face fade away from the reflection and felt suddenly naked, deprived of his touch. As an immediate reaction, you turned around to keep looking at him, something you couldn’t do without anymore. «As you can see, there’s only one bed. If you don’t feel comfortable sleeping together…» «No, Carlos, of course I want to sleep with you.» you blurted out in a rush, only to mentally facepalm for the unintended pun. He smirked, both amused and finding your embarrassment endearing. «Happy to know that.»

>>♥<<

There was something that either you had miscalculated or that Carlos had carefully taken into consideration while organizing the trip, something you hadn’t thought about while packing your favorite swimsuits and bikinis, alongside sarongs and summer dresses: that you’d be both almost completely naked, all day. After spending the morning in the cool, crystal-clear water, during the hottest hours you would drop back home to eat something on the fly – and change into a dry swimsuit –, then running back to the beach in the afternoon to walk hand in hand ‘til the sun set on the fine sand of the shore.

The first day was a nightmare. You both felt a rush of electricity run through you whenever you’d touch by chance, while swimming in the waves or passing a towel to the other; you were always feasting on each other’s bodies, almost shamelessly, driven by exasperation; you’d obsessively remind each other to wear sunscreen, so that you could either give help with spreading it over or enjoy one’s hands doing what the other’s craved. The only relief to the unbearable closeness was a profound, endless, affectionate conversation. Answers, follow-up questions, anecdotes, some common trivia about each other; you’d say the yearn for the physical was only a manifestation of a deeper emotional longing.

And that’s how, on the first day of vacation, you ended up looking at the soft reddish waves of sea calmly settling a layer of foam on the shore, both sitting on the sand as Carlos hugged you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You shut your eyes, impressing the beauty of the evening breeze and the sight in your memory, while Carlos pressed his lips at the base of your neck. «You still haven’t told me which sport you practice.» you murmured. «Basically any sport, you name it.» «Are you a decathlon athlete?» you smiled. Carlos looked at you with a raised brow. «You really want to know, uh?» «Am I right?» «No, but thanks for trying.» he smirked. «Why can’t you tell me?» Carlos paused, and it was his time to gaze at the distance, enjoying the peaceful view of the horizon. «I just want to keep you out of it as long as I can. Always around the world, people watching every single move and invading your privacy, pictures and video you can’t prevent from leaking…» he tsked. «This isn’t what I want for us. I mean, look at us now: no expectations, no hectic lifestyle, no rush. We’re alone, we have nothing else but each other.» You nodded in small movements, almost to yourself. «My brother is almost never home. He’s been involved in the sport since he was a kid and already when he was a teen he’d be nowhere near Monaco.» Carlos rubbed your back as you talked. «Did you feel alone?» «Not really, no. I’ve got two other brothers.» «Please, don’t tell me they’re all older than you.» You smiled at his tone, giggling at his little “oh no…” as he realized it was the case. «But apart from gradually growing distant from my brother, the thing that I’ll never be able to forgive is that my dad was always with him. Because of him, I lost both a brother and a father.» Trying to drown out the tingling feelings of hurt failed as Carlos encircled you with his arms, pressing his lips on your temple in a tender kiss. You swallowed hard before carrying on. «So… If anything, I’m more scared of not being allowed in every part of your life.» you made eye contact with him. «And we would still have each other, no matter what.» Tacitly thanking you for sharing your feelings, Carlos kissed you briefly before settling back his head on your shoulder. «When you texted me you wanted to leave earlier, I was happy like a little kid.» You grinned, eyes veiled with sadness. «Yeah, I couldn’t wait.» Carlos gently grabbed your chin with his fingers, demanding eye contact back again: you soon dropped it, as Charles’ poisonous words still rang in your ears. «I wanted to run away.» you confessed, then resting your head onto your buckled knees, gazing at the sea. «Did something happen?» Carlos asked, soft, rubbing your back in soothing motions. «Nothing new. It’s always the same.» He leaned in to meet your eyes again, his hand still resting on your back. «Not today. It’s us, now.»

After hours of fast-paced teasing, the way your lips met in a kiss was slow, intimate; he brushed your hair with unexpected tenderness while deepening the kiss, getting to taste more of the sweetness he had drunk. «It’s just us.» he whispered again, tilting his head on the opposite side.

A soft wind rolled shivers on your skin as much as his hands settling on your waist and gently squeezing it did; heart about to burst out of your chest, you pressed both your hands on his cheeks, to keep him steady on you, not to let go of the sweet pleasure of closeness. It was only you and him on the beach, as the sun sank in the sea to let you two enjoy each other’s embrace: Carlos had spread one hand on your back, radiating a warm tingling feeling in your stomach as he slowly guided you to lie down on the bath towel beneath you. Despite the thought having lingered in the air, untold, for long, you couldn’t let yourself be bothered by where the night was leading, too pleasantly overwhelmed by his swift and yet careful moves.

Only when Carlos grazed your neck and you were lulled by his sharp inhales and his fanning breath over you, only when the bulge of his damp swimsuit involuntarily met your core causing you to grip a curl of his thick hair with your lips parted in bliss, only then you realized he was invading your entire space and driving your senses in tilt with too many feelings to process and to give into. You moaned, helpless, as he brushed over your core once again. Carlos halted, his dark irises contrasting with the white of the sclera even more, as his eyes were wide open; his chest, you noticed, heaved with an impatience that matched your own, electricity running through both your bodies. He had forced himself to stop. What are you waiting for?, a part of him said; and it was the impulsive one, the needy, the greedy, the one which had reached out for you in the Tinder matches only a week ago. The one which had him palming himself while staring at your pictures, anticipating the meeting with lust; the one that almost lost control by breathing in your scent after a few days he hadn’t seen you as he put the seatbelt on for you. But then, another part of him had put the hand brake. The one which had felt a soft spot for you when you laughed at the bar listening to his jokes, the one that cherished you like a treasure meant to be preserved pure and rare in its beauty, the one that would hang from your lips and comply with your pace, your desire.

You stared at each other for seconds which seemed eternity; you caught every single movement of Carlos’ body, attentive like a deer observing the predator’s actions. He wetted his lips, he flicked his eyes elsewhere before being drawn on you, this time with a softer gaze. His scent inebriated you as he leaned towards you, getting so close you could feel your own heart beating on the very edge of your skin, drawn like a magnet to Carlos. The concert of quickened breaths and pants blacked out the distant grating roar of the sea: your rhythm, your frequency, your tune was his to dictate.

As his hot breath signaled how he had got dangerously close to your ear, you kept your fingers intertwined in his hair, your entire body trembling in anticipation. «I want you.» His husky voice sent a violent shiver down your arching back, so deep in desire that your eyelids half-closed, fighting the instinct to push Carlos’ head on your neck to finally unleash his teasing. He had waited, he had thought about keeping you that close since the first time you had seen each other: and still he had refrained from acting on his selfish needs, and he had crafted instead the most alluring trap for you, making it impossible to untangle from him. Not that you wanted to. You didn’t know how you had both been able to fall so heavily in love in less than a week, but it had happened out of your notice, and with his tanned torso occupying all your senses – hot and full to the touch, a light veil of his cologne lingering on it despite the sea salt – there was no way to take a step back. Carlos couldn’t either. Not with your skin palpitating before his eyes, before his lips, so kissable, so perfectly laid out for him to nibble at, to mark and stain with passion. «Fuck, I need you…» You were in too deep. Your breath hitched at his husky tone. «Carlos…» His lips brushing yours with a circling motion, teasing them with a gut-wrenching delay, he whispered again honey-laced words. «Tell me you want it as much as I do, please…»

Without time to answer, mumbling another desperate please, he sealed his request with a kiss, which immediately became sloppy and messy due to your impatient bodies pressing onto the other, grabbing, exploring, roaming for pleasure. Lost in the kiss, you couldn’t tell whether it was Carlos rubbing his hard-on you or you desperately searching for friction through the damp layers of your swimsuits. However it might be, the result was the same: it had you whining and moaning, feeling the first stone-cold fabric warming through your throbbing cores, once rubbing couldn’t soothe the ache anymore. Carlos’ groan told you he felt the same way.

He couldn’t wait any more second: his body, mind and soul craved you all at once with the same disrupting force. Looking around, hurriedly rummaging with one hand in the pocket of his dismissed trousers, he sighed in frustration, placing his forehead upon yours. «I don’t have condoms here, for fuck’s sake…» he breathed out, a mix of disappointment and apology in his tone. You brushed his cheek, half hiding a smile. «But I promise I have them in the house. When we go back-» You pressed your pointer finger on his lips to interrupt him. «I’m on the pill.» Carlos’ eyes widened in realization, and despite being pulled by a nosy curiosity as to why you were on birth control, his arousal got the best of him and cut short any feasible matter.

He had captured your lips back in another messy kiss, slow-paced, open-mouthed, and his fingers had immediately rushed to teasingly push down your bottom swimsuit, tracing your folds with the thick wetness he was welcomed by. He growled into the kiss as soon as he noticed how turned on you were, feeling his own cock stir once more inside his swim trunks; with another groan, he left your glistening lips, smirking, and you understood why the moment his digits found your clit. You couldn’t control a half-screamed moan. «Nobody can hear us. I want you to be louder, baby.» As he rubbed you with his thumb slow and steady, your mind disconnected and stopped working properly: it was just him, his fingers making you mewl and his bulge against your bare thigh.

Carlos’ stare was unbearable: it was so filled with lust you had to stray away not to feel a hotter wave of heat on your reddened cheeks, to shut your eyes in bliss, to look down at his hand disappearing under your bikini. And if only you could’ve sustained his eyes for more than a few seconds, you would’ve noticed how he was struggling as well. Eight years of age gap. Sure, he still had to turn thirty, but… «Please, Carlos… I need to- GOSH!» you cried out. «Use your words, love. What do you need?» Maybe he was rushing it just for his own yearning, without taking you into much consideration. Not even a week after meeting each other for the first time and already hitting the fourth base… «Fuck, I need your fingers inside… Oh, please!» you moaned, tilting your head to the side. Or maybe he was simply complying to your desires as well. «Like this?» After all, you had already proved him that you weren’t a naïve little girl: your talks, your constant teasing (well thought-out, thanks to your provocative swimsuits), the way you hadn’t seem shocked or scared by his maneuvers but, quite the opposite, thrilled and longing for them. You were both on the same wavelength. «Ah, fuck me… Fuck!» What was he supposed to do now? Now that you were a whimpering mess under his expert fingers, now that he had you right where he had needed you to be since the first moment – below him, legs open for him, nipples tensed and visible under the top of your bikini, begging for your release –, now that he had the green light, it took a while to realize he could go for more without risking being turned down. «Carlos, please…» Spaced out, he had raised back on his knees, and you had started panting out of breath at both the sudden lack of contact and at the scene before you, his hands slowly pulling down his trunks. He was taken over by an unexplainable aplomb, moving carefully but surely at the same time, precise as a sniper in brushing your most sensitive spots: his calm had the opposite effect on your body, shaking in desire, swollen and aching, and you gripped his back once he leaned over you, his tip teasing your entrance.

>>♥<<

Your second day in southern Spain was spent in Carlos’ arms. Stirring after a night of sleep next to him, mattress and sheets still warm, you had felt his boner pressing on your thigh, as you had cuddled together all night. After exchanging the most adorable sleepy grin with him, you hadn’t hesitated to take the matter in your own hands. Neither had Carlos: less than a minute in, frustrated by how poorly he could pleasure you while lying next to you upright, he had quickly ordered you to sit on his face, so that he could grab your thighs, squeeze them tight in place whenever you’d try to shift away from his skillful tongue. He learned you quickly, cracking your body’s code after that abundant breakfast in bed; spending yet another morning on Playa de el Cañuelo, enjoying the vibrant shades of the sea water, wetting your ankles while sitting on the shore, eyes closed in delight and sunbathing, you didn’t expect you’d soon learn his.

At lunch, as usual, you both refuged back in the villa, welcomed by a cooler temperature. While preparing two bowls of salad, you felt a pair of hands sliding on your skin, rolling up your sarong to toy with the two nods holding the bottom of your bikini together. Before you could even realize, the feast had begun, as you moaned his name gripping the marble counter while he thrusted into you with one single stroke. Nibbling, biting and open-mouthed kisses were tell-tale signs of your mutual hunger, which Carlos’ cock satiated by providing you with a sickly-sweet full sensation, your stomach being filled with him. Out of impatience and urge, Carlos had satisfied his own leaning back onto the edge of the kitchen table and dragging you back with him through the firm hold he had on your hips, rocking you back and forth with ease and speed. You were now sure the sunburn had got severe, it had caused a fever: and Carlos was both the rays and the refreshing after-sun lotion, sliding on your skin, penetrating it, nourishing it from within.

>>♥<<

The surprise he had warned you about came on Sunday late afternoon. «Ready for a walk?» He had waited for the heat to be less intense, making it pleasant to stroll undisturbed hand in hand on a dirt path next to Playa de el Cañuelo, which went up the hill, amongst the bushes. From up there, you looked back to the beach and caught a magnificent glimpse of the view: the sea seemed even broader and distant, roaring onto the shore. Carlos stopped with you to enjoy the sight, reading into your sparkling eyes. «Let’s go, we’re almost there.»

You had been walking roughly for ten minutes, when you reached a crossing: the dirt left room to a wooden walkway with railing, leading back down to the jagged coast. «Este es el Faro de Camarinal.» «This is what?» you giggled. «Faro means lighthouse.» Holding hands and playing push and pull like two kids, you stared at Carlos’ lips closely as to replicate the Spanish words rolling off them, since he was determined to teach them to you. «Faster, now.» «I can’t! It’s impossible, you’re too quick.» «Try.» You both chuckled at each other, taken over by exhilaration for no particular reason but closeness. «Faro… Faro de Marinal?» «Camarinal.» «Faro de Camarinal.» Grinning at you, he let go of one of your hands to guide you towards the lighthouse once again, letting your steps resonating through the wooden boards. «Better. You improve very quickly.» «Are you planning on teaching Spanish to me already?» You both stopped in front of an old metallic door at the base of the lighthouse, on which a sign hung off: prohibido el paso. «You know me so well and yet it hasn’t even been a month since we’ve met.» «You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.» «It just amazes me.» he looked at you. «You amaze me.» The orange glow of the sunset warmed your cheeks, forcing you to suppress a smile after hearing Carlos’ comment. «Let’s go.» «But we can’t. Isn’t this a prohibition sign?» «It is. But nobody ever comes here and it’s completely safe to go inside.» He then proceeded to open the door, which was loosely closed, and invited you to step in, offering his hand to you given your reticence.

After carefully going upstairs being wary of any danger, you came at the top panting a bit, but the view managed to leave you wholly breathless: the sea, the glimmering of the distant waves due to the sun diving in and swimming in the golden water. «I used to come here when I was a kid.» «Did you come to this beach during holidays?» «Yes. This was the refuge I’d run to when my mom showed up to tell me we had to go back home.» You lowered your gaze and smirked, hit by the tenderness of the memory. «Is this a way to say you wish this trip didn’t end today?» «It is. And I also wanted to show you my favorite spot in Spain.»

You both engaged in sightseeing, Carlos hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder for a while, as he had grown accustomed to doing in those three days; you brushed his arms as he enveloped your waist, feeling cozy and happy in the embrace. Softly, gently, like a dance, he reached for the ribbon of your white swim dress and began undoing it, while you both imperceptibly moved your bodies to the rhythm of your hands. «This swimsuit is the best you’ve brought on this trip.» Carlos whispered in your ear. «Glad you like it… It was meant to be my small surprise for you.» «Let me unwrap it so that I can get my real surprise, then…»

«And then what happened?» «Lan. You know what happened.»

You paced back and forth inside your bedroom, grinning wide as if Lando could ever see the sparkling magic in your eyes as you were telling him minute by minute everything about the sweet romanticism that had gone down during the trip. He had called you because he knew would like to vent and extenuate him with every single detail of that perfect, dreamy vacation. «Of course I do, but I want you to embarrassedly say it out loud so that you know how down bad you are.» You heavily sighed, knowing he was smirking by the tone of his voice. «Okay.» You licked your lips, biting your lower lip as the memories hit you. «We made love.» «Oh, wow, made love? Please, you’ll talk to me about making love when you’re an elder or something.» You chuckled, too embarrassed to reply with anything else. «So… I guess it was good.» Lando said. «It was out of this planet. It was dizzying, and he was just… perfect.» «Did he make you cum?» he quickly added. «LANDO!» you gaped, eyes bewildered. «’m just asking.» Sitting down on your bed, fingers fidgeting with a loosened thread of the comforter, your thoughts kept swimming in the sea of those recalled moments. You couldn’t help but realize that with Carlos everything had spiraled out of control. From complete strangers to lovers in a week. And the scariest thing to acknowledge was that it felt right, all along. Like puzzle pieces, you fitted seamlessly and now that you both had tangled up, there was no chance of ripping: you would text each other every other hour, hoping new opportunities to hang out together would arise, longing for connection after having discovered your new favorite pastime was looking in the eyes and talk. The mere thought of the proximity you had experienced warmed your cheeks again. «Yes, he did. Multiple times, if you’re interested!» «Weird that you think I’m interested, but okay.» Lando giggled. «Glad to hear you’re happy, though.» «Yeah, I just feel at ease around him.»

The line fell silent for a couple of seconds, giving you time to elaborate the sentence through a soft grin, head lowered. «Gosh, I think I love this man!» «Man? Is he old?» he laughed. «No, he’s just a bit older than me. But he’s so youthful as well! Lan, I’m doomed.» you facepalmed. «Seems like you are, yeah.»

You paused once again, not really sure how to continue the conversation and pondering whether you should add anything in your detailed report to Lando. You heard him humming briefly, signaling he wanted to speak up again. «When… When will you see each other again?» As soon as Lando ended the question, your fingers harshly twisted the thread they had been holding, while you were still looking down at the bed. «I don’t know… he’s busy this week, and I’m coming to Imola with Charles, so definitely not as soon as we’d like.» «Well, you should invite him to Monaco for the Grand Prix, if he’s free. He’s a sportsman, he would enjoy it.» «Invite him so that you can pester him with questions and my whole family can disapprove of both him and me? Or you want us to get caught in a storm of paparazzi and twitter threads of how irresponsible Leclerc’s little defenseless sister is?» Lando tsked and you could almost see his brows knitting in frustration. «Don’t try to steal my job and make it a big deal when things are that simple. You love each other? Yes. Then no one can say a thing. But even if you two were just fucking around, I mean…» he paused. «You should be free to hang out with whoever. It’s nobody’s business.» «It isn’t only about me, Lan… I think he would get in bigger trouble than I would. It seems like in his sport everything is blown out of proportion.» «A man who understands the struggle.» Lando added, bittersweet. «But what is all this secrecy anyway? I don’t trust someone who can’t even tell you what he does for a living.» «Lan, I just could tell he was being honest… Plus, he really looks like an athlete.» «And couldn’t you tell which sport he practices by his body shape?» «No, he’s really fit overall, there’s no prominent feature.» you shook your head. «He told me that he loves cycling, but usually riders have a smaller frame, right? I have no clue, Lan.» «Guess you just love some mystery man, don’t you?» Lando was grinning, you could tell. «Well, I haven’t told him everything about me either, so it’s only fair…» you breathed out. «I’m so scared of his reaction when he finds out about my family…» «You make it sound like you’re the daughter of an Italian mafia boss.» «You know what I mean by that…» «Yeah, I do. And you know that I think it’s silly.» You paused, gaze still down, in reflection. «It’s going to be fine. Stop overthinking, you little muppet.»

>>♥<<

Earphones plugged in, you scrolled through some of the pics you had taken with Carlos on Playa de el Cañuelo only a couple of days earlier. The sand between your toes, the warm breeze, the sun kissing your skin already felt like a thin memory and the moments, the touches you had shared with Carlos desperately ghostly.

Laying in bed at night, the apartment become quieter compared to the chatter of the dinner you had had with your family, you had been unable, despite vainly trying, to keep your mind off your little escapade. You had, therefore, found yourself stumbling upon some stolen shots of him, shirtless, hair wet and shiny, drops of water sliding on his tanned skin. You could anticipate its warmth, because you had felt it; you could almost evoke his fingers tracing your body with gentleness and precision, making you gasp. Loosening your muscles in delight, you swiftly slipped your right hand under your leggings and underwear, giving relief to your core through friction and light touches.

Carlos’ absence had left a void which you found unbearably underwhelming: love-bombing for three days had got you used to his ways, to his constant physical touch – which, you figured, was probably his favorite love language, since he couldn’t stray his hands away from your body – and now that you were laying in a single-size and empty bed, mind full of hopes and desires, you coped as you could, shutting your eyes and trying to reproduce Carlos’ skilled movements with your fingers, gradually increasing the pace, biting your lip as not to let out a single noise. I want you to be louder, baby. You knew that if Carlos were there, he would rub you hard enough to make you cry and beg out loud for more; he would not care of your brothers resting in their rooms only a couple of meters away and he would pay no attention but to you only, sucking on every corner of your breast, down in your inner thighs, leaving a trail of kisses to reach your-

S♥O is calling . . . Decline <-   -> Answer

You nearly yelped as you felt your left hand vibrate because of the call. Heart pounding out of your chest, partly because of the unexpected call, partly because you were in the middle of something, you hurriedly swiped to answer. «Hola, baby!» «Hi.» Carlos, who at first wasn’t looking at the screen in order to get comfortable on a beanbag chair, raised a brow: you had spoken so low your greeting was almost inaudible, your room barely lit by a table lamp. «Why are you whispering?» «My brothers are in the rooms next to mine, I can’t make too much noise.» «Haven’t told them about me yet?» he smirked. «No. They can be a bit protective.» «Well, then tell them not to open their socials on the… 22nd of May.» You frowned, taken aback. «What happens...?» «I talked to my management, and I settled everything for us to go public with our relationship. That weekend I’ll be in Monaco for a competition, so I thought there was no better occasion.»

You stared at the screen, brain racing at two hundred miles an hour: Charles had asked you to be with him for the race, but it didn’t mean you were obliged to stay attached to his hips every single second. And even if you had to skip some sessions, nothing was more deserving of your time than to keep close to Carlos, support him and stick with him in such a delicate moment for him and for you both. It wasn’t even a question. «If you’re okay with it, of course.» Carlos added, an enquiring look on his face. «Uh? Yes! Of course, I mean…» you sighed. «My brother asked for my presence at one of his races but he’s in Monaco too, so I’ll be running to you whenever I can, I promise. I’d desert completely him for you, but I can’t.» «I see.» Carlos nodded small to himself. «He must love you a lot to ask you to be with him every time.» «He’s been pretty insistent since Miami.» you smiled. «Why? Did you bring him good luck?» he smirked, raising a brow. «Hmm… Yeah, kind of.» you said, thinking of the podium picture Lando had sent you with Charles spraying champagne in the background.

Carlos sank deeper into the beanbag sack, keeping silent. «What?» you asked at his reaction, still trying to keep your volume low. «Can’t believe I need to thank him for having met you in Miami.» «Bad thing, uh?» «Yep, because I can just sense that once you introduce me as your boyfriend he’ll turn into a cockblocker.» At first, you giggled at his comic frustration and at the – probably true – assumption he had made; then your attention landed on the deeper meaning of the sentence and lingered on its last word, that had your core throb suddenly. You hadn’t stop slowly and lazily rubbing yourself, almost unconsciously, staring at Carlos spread out on the sack chair, and you definitely found it impossible not to keep touching when he represented such a strong and influential visual clue to your yearning. «Are you good?» Carlos’ voice woke you up from your trance: not sure about what to do or say, feeling once again near your release, you leaned your head on the pillow. «I… Please, don’t judge me.» you whispered in plead. «Of course I won’t. What’s the matter?» «I was… I am…» you bit your lower lip, frowning as you felt the jolt of pleasure approaching. «…masturbating to you. I miss you.» Carlos grinned affectionately at those words, finally able to interpret the subtle twitch of your shoulder he had been quite distracted by all along. «I miss you too, love. And there’s nothing to be ashamed of.» The hoarseness of his voice. Your core clenched around nothing just by him talking. «Are you close?» His tone had turned almost serious, consequently lower; you nodded through whines, at this point quite failing at the proposition of keeping absolutely silent. «Wanted to make a mess on the sheets before even going to bed? Wanted your brothers to walk in on you while screaming my name, uhm? Like you did on the beach while riding my cock, you remember that?» Only a couple of sentences and you were over the edge. You pressed your lips together, keeping your fingers on your clit to enjoy its throbbing and the riding out of your orgasm, wishing it’d never end. «Fuck, I’d like to be there on the bed next to you.» Carlos sighed, almost talking to himself. «Feel better, now?» «Feel amazing.» you breathed out. «I’m really sorry we can’t hang out until next week.» «It’s not your fault, Carlos. We’ll manage.» you reassured him.

As you leaned forward, sitting on the bed and seemingly about to get up, Carlos mimicked you on his beanbag chair. «Do you need to go?» he asked. «I’ll go clean up and then straight to bed.» you smiled. «What about you?» «I wanted to go to bed too, but I think I’ll need to take care of my boner first.» You covered your mouth to prevent your giggles from echoing louder in your room. «Sorry!» «Don’t worry, I was already pretty hard when I saw you in pajamas on the bed, so…» «So?» «So stop teasing me any further!» he laughed. «Good night, y/n.» «Sweet dreams, lover boy.» you joked with a fond smile on your lips.

>>♥<<

Exiting the bathroom after cleaning up, you decided to go grab a glass of water in the kitchen, still flushed by the steam of the situation.

Moving in the dark only helped momentarily by the whitish light of the fridge, knowing every centimeter of the house like the back of your hand, you startled as the light was switched on. «Oh, didn’t see you.» Charles seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, pulling a sheepish smile while getting close to the fridge. «I was thirsty.» you said, taking a sip from your newly filled glass. «Yeah, me too.» he said, grabbing from the fridge the bottle you had just put back in.

You gripped the counter with your free hand, wishing to escape him as soon as possible, but he was quick to pour himself a glass and join you alongside the marble. The glass against your skin felt as cold as the silence falling on you both. Growing embarrassed, you glanced at him, drawing his own interest on you. «Your cheeks are bright red… Are you okay? Do you feel like you have a fever?» As Charles leaned over to you, full of concern and thoughtfulness – too unexpected and unwelcome, if coming from him –, threatening to touch your skin as to prove the temperature of its surface, you flinched backwards, avoiding him. «No, I’m fine! I… Guess I should change the duvet, it’s still the wintery one.» He raised a brow in a quick, frustrated move. «Isn’t it the sunburn?» he asked, sharp. Sunken. Guilt pervaded you, head to toe. «Oh, uhm… No, I don’t think so.» you stood in silence. «Charles, the sunburn was just a lie…» «I know.» On pins and needles, you waited patiently for him to carry on, knowing there was more when he turned around to face you. «Where did you go?» «To Provence, I told you.» you sipped. «You flew off the country.» Charles kept staring at you with a knowing look, waiting for an answer. «Freak, can’t even trust Lorenzo…» you snorted. «He told me he accompanied you to the airport.» «Fine.» you took another sip. «I was in Spain.» Charles nodded to himself. «Did you go with anyone?» «No, I was alone. Last minute decision.» «I see.»

Charles retreated, thoughtful, staring at the bottom of his glass. Had you always been this distant? Had he ever had you closer than this? One step away, about to graze you if he only reached out, and still miles away from each other. Sometimes he wondered if he could’ve done anything not to splinter the relationship between the two of you: instead of blaming himself, he took it out with fate, destiny, whoever had decided that his only passion in life would make him hop on planes all over the world, putting most of his relationships at risk. But what if it had been him all along? What if he could’ve done something to prevent it? What if not keeping in touch with you enough was a burden placed on his shoulders only? «I’m… I’m sorry for what I said, last week. You’re free to choose who to hang out with, but I was frustrated. I never get to see you all often and you deliberately cancelling the rare time I’m here got me mad. Sorry.» «We were both petty. It’s fine, Cha’.» You weren’t his little sister anymore. You had suddenly turned into an adult, and it was unbelievably hard for him to acknowledge that he couldn’t treat you like a baby anymore, that you could have different plans and willing. Separate lives; nothing but a surname, a roof and a hurtful past shared between the two.

Despite Imola not being particularly sunny on Thursday morning, you decided to shield your sight with the sunglasses Carlos had stolen and given back to you in Spain. As if it wasn’t a clear enough sign of your unavailability to pictures, interviews and any type of approach, you kept your eyes glued to the phone engaging in a way more interesting pastime than looking at a crowded paddock.

> I hate it already and I’ve been here for barely ten seconds lol I know, without me any place is boring

You grinned.

> unfortunately true 🥲 > how are things there? crowded and busy my first task begins literally now I’ll text you later ♥      > love you ♥

You huffed, putting your phone down. «Y/n, right?» You scrutinized head to toe the woman dressed in red who had got closer to you, quickly guessing she could be a media manager by the obsessive worry she held her phone with. «Yes.» «Good! Charles asked us to give you a garage tour, so you’ll be joining the one we reserve for our guests, which starts in a few minutes. Please, follow me!»

Annoyed beyond comprehension, wondering why in the world your brother had decided to put you through such a torture – was it vengeance for having missed his family boat day? He was a menace, you had always known. He had told you he was sorry only to let your guards fall down and trick you right after, when you least expected it… –, you followed the staff, carelessly strolling in the back corridor of the box, reaching the garage. Too outraged to notice your surroundings, you paid no attention to the words the woman said (something about waiting for the other VIP guests) and wandered around mindless, gazing at the rows of headsets on the wall, some screens and the cars covered by black sheets. Charles had you trapped in his own hamster wheel: the fact that he liked it wasn’t a good reason to force you in there as well. You knew nothing about driving and you couldn’t care less. Literally, it was a heated discussion topic with Lando as well, because there was nothing attractive to you in risking your life at 300 km/h. Absolutely nothing. Knowing Charles, he had planned your entire day to avoid losing track of you as it had happened in Miami. It wasn’t established in your deal. Little shit.

Still fuming at the thought, carefully intending to search a boutique nearby – if any existed in that God forgotten Italian village – and force him to buy the most expensive dress of the lot, you snatched your sunglasses away, not bearing the thought of them being Charles’. Phone vibrating in your pocket, you grabbed it and glanced at it.

1 new message from S♥O love you too

His words melted your rage like snow under the brightest sun: they warmed your whole chest, making a smile linger on your lips. Hearing people talking and walking into the garage, you raised your eyes from the screen; in the process, you involuntarily locked gaze with someone who seemed to be looking in your direction. And you froze. To be fair, you could tell he had been frozen longer than you had and that, in fact, he had caught your attention exactly because he was already standing still the moment you looked around you in the room. Carlos’ doe eyes were meters away from you, as his body was wrapped in the Ferrari merch you were so used to seeing in your brother’s wardrobe, standing with his phone in his hands, like you were, lips parted in astonishment and confusion.

An unmistakable laugh emerging from the back of the garage together with the flow of new people put you in alarm, which was justified as soon as Charles strolled casually his way into the box: you immediately looked away from Carlos, terrified that small interaction could ever be caught. As if you could slow down your heart thundering in your chest.

«What are you looking at?» Carlos turned his head to Charles, who was leaning on the wall next to him. «Nothing.» Why would you be there? You had a VIP pass hanging around your neck. Maybe you had got it thanks to your brother being a famous athlete… But he couldn’t spot anyone else among the guests around your age who could be your sibling; no one was as beautiful as you, no one even got near your perfection. Did you know? Had you found out he was a F1 driver and decided to surprise him, to confront him? After all, the real mystery was how you hadn’t managed to discover it yet…

«I’m doing the tour, today.» Charles plainly said. «What? You never want to.» Carlos smiled, knitting brows. Looking at his teammate's casual pose, arms crossed and sunglasses on, chewing on a gum, Carlos suddenly realized something; and he wished he could turn around to compare him to you, as doubts and hypotheses sprung in his mind. «Hello, everyone!» But Charles had already gathered and greeted the guests, and Carlos found himself surrounded by mechanics to proceed with the seat fit.

Needless to say, you understood nothing of what Charles said. Hyperaware of your surroundings, you tried to peek at Carlos, who talked to various team people – probably engineers –, then climbed into the cockpit and did checks you couldn’t see the purpose of. Charles occasionally threw dimpled smiles to you while speaking, both hoping to entertain you and getting on your nerves, well knowing you couldn’t pull a tantrum at his workplace. In five minutes, the activity inside the garage died down: Charles had dismissed you all, and you had glimpsed Carlos getting out of the car. «Next, you’ll visit the hospitality. Follow me, this way!» As the same woman you had met earlier gestured to all the guests to form a group behind her, you reluctantly entered the corridor towards the exit, not before glancing back, desperate to see Carlos one last time. You almost gasped as you saw him quickly step towards you, who were then forced to face forward, somehow fearful: you could just feel his silhouette towering yours as he chased you close.

Before you knew it, in the mid of the corridor, he had grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside a small room, shutting the door behind him. What now? You had little to no time to elaborate the situation, to master the catastrophic impact of Carlos being a F1 driver and Charles’ teammate; putting pieces together, the overall picture still had blurry borders and it shook before your sight. In that fraction of eternity – since meeting Carlos seemed to have halted time –, though, locking gaze with him, you realized a deeper truth. He was in front of you, flesh and bones, body and soul. He was the man you had incoherently fallen in love with in such a short amount of time and whom you couldn’t let go. At unison, two listeners tuned into the same radio station and moving to the beat of the same song, you leaned close to each other and you pressed lips upon lips, body upon body. You felt Carlos holding you tight in his embrace, afraid it was only a vision, a fathom, a ghostly appearance, and you clung onto his shoulders stronger to reassure him, since you definitely weren’t planning on withdrawing from his touch.

It took long to stop the kiss and get to talking; somehow, you both were always discovering a new corner of lips you craved to tease, to nibble at, to smother with kisses. Once you felt Carlos’ breath hitch and his movements ceased, as he tried to get your attention in order to speak up, you braced yourself for his words. «Why are you here?» he let out in one breath. «My brother… the  one who’s an athlete…» you inhaled. «That’s Charles.» Carlos spaced out, and you showed him a sympathetic smile while caressing his cheek with fondness. «You’re from Monaco…» «Yep.» you kept brushing his skin, appreciating the smoothness of it, able to guess he might have shaved that same morning. «You were in Miami for the race, weren’t you?» You nodded in small movements, waiting for his reaction. «But like, how didn’t you recognize me? Did you pretend not to know?» «I told you I never went to Charles’ races. I’m not interested in F1, I’ve never watched it on tv…» «At least I know it wasn’t a lie, then…» he leaned his head back, sighing.

There was no way of hiding the hint of fear you felt while biting your lip, examining Carlos’ expressions as they changed rapidly. Through it all, though, he never retreated from your touch, keeping you tight in his arms. «What a mess…» he muttered under his breath. «He can’t say a thing, it’s not up to him to decide who I’m dating-» «Y/n, there are… dynamics that you can’t understand. It’s much more than an overprotective-brother matter.» «Then what is it?» «Y/n!» Carlos shut his eyes in annoyance as he heard his teammate, your brother, searching and calling for you. «Y/n? Guys, did you see my sister?» In mutual agreement, you stared at each other while reluctantly loosening the embrace; taking a sharp breath in, Carlos then placed his hand on the knob and opened the door. «She was being nosy in the strategy room. She said she got lost.» Without paying too much attention to Carlos’ justifying words, Charles only addressed you. «Go reach Arthur and mom, we’re having lunch at the hospitality together.» You simply nodded, regretfully walking out the garage without sparing a last glance at Carlos, who was then leaning against the door frame. As the Spaniard was about to follow you and exit the box too since his duties were carried out, he felt a hand wrap and drag his arm to prevent him from leaving. «Y/n is my sister.» Carlos tried to play it cool and smirked. «I didn’t know anything about her.» «And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to always be.» Charles stepped closer to Carlos, never letting his smile falter. «Don’t get near her.» Something about his eyes, despite the attempt of coming off as friendly, something feral, almost murderous struck Carlos and left his heart blue, aware that there was nothing he could possibly do to change Charles’ disposition towards him. At the same time, however, he had to restrain himself from barking at his teammate: Carlos had sisters himself and had experienced protectiveness towards them, but he had never gatekept their existence from the entire world as Charles had done with you. He had never seen a picture of you, never known a younger Leclerc was part of the family… Cutting you off from his passion and his job only to then plead you to be a part of his life back again and suddenly dragging you around the world was simply selfish. He could tell why you would always tense up whenever you mentioned your arguments and your lacking relationship with him, and if you knew on which terms Carlos and Charles were, maybe you would’ve backed him up. Maybe you would’ve picked his side instead of Charles’, as everyone else did.

No one could deny how much Charles was the most liked, protected and favored driver out of the Ferrari pair, and this partiality unluckily showed through divisions inside the team, which no one dared speak about. Mechanics, media staff, engineers: Charles had to be cherished like a baby prince, able to obtain anything, keeping people’s hearts wrapped around his fingers, to the point he could throw ultimatums and threat to leave the team and gain, in turn, the dismissal of a team principal with a favorable replacement. 

Deep down, Carlos knew it was no one but Ferrari’s fault, with the team who had let Charles progressively identifying with the team until losing him would have a tremendous negative impact on the brand, and most of all everyone relied on him for the title championship’s fight without even considering any other person. They had made him too important, and now they couldn’t afford to lose him, even if this meant sacrificing their other driver. They had already signed Hamilton before the season had even started. And that Charles himself didn’t like Carlos much, well, signs were between the lines, for the ones who could read them properly. He had beaten Charles in the end of the first year as teammates, though people seemed to forget it. He had secured the only win of the team in the 2023 season, and had replicated it triumphantly in Australia. What did he have to do to shine as bright? What did he have to do to be… chosen?

>>♥<<

You waited in the interstice between Ferrari and McLaren’s hospitalities, barely hid in the shadow, sunglasses purposely on to avoid crossing gaze with the crowd walking up and down the paddock. Carlos had texted you, saying he would reach you as soon as lunch with the team would be over; on your hand, you had finished eating quite early since you felt no big appetite, sickened by a pounding question. Had you rushed things with Carlos? The question left your mouth dry, your hands clammy. He had seemed too hesitant, too fearful, and at first too slow to commitment, always managing to pull out excuses as to why he wasn’t ready to go public. What if it had been a fleeting moment? But how could all of it be a lie? Lying in the sand, limbs intertwined, giggling and whispering slices of life to each other as the sun set down.

A sigh revealed Carlos’ presence aside you. «I’m going to be brief. Things between me and Charles are a mess, when it comes to dynamics within the team. It’s not even hate, it’s way more subtle than that…» «It’s competition.» «Unfair competition.» he spatted. «He knows the team will always back him up, whereas I’m currently without a seat for next year.» You shot your wide opened eyes to him. «What?» «I was negotiating the renewal when they suddenly announced another driver they had been in contact with for quite a long time. The team told me nothing.» You passed a frustrated hand on your face, trying to wash away mental fog. «You don’t want Charles to be on your tail more than he is now, I guess.» «I don’t want him to force you to choose either him or me.» he stared at you. «Because you can’t help choosing him.» «No! I don’t care about him if this is the way he treats people! And why would you assume I wouldn’t choose you? I…» You halted after suddenly noticing your hands were now resting on his chest; maybe too much of an intimate gesture, but delicate enough to soften Carlos’ expression, sewed with pain. «You?» «Y/n!» You stepped back abruptly, before even turning around to see who was searching for you with such a greeting, before Lando’s curly locks bounced over to you. «Oh, Carlos!» the Brit smiled sheepish. «Do you two… know each other?» A F1 driver recognizing you right away with sunglasses on and cheering you as if nothing happened, only to be clearly surprised and slightly embarrassed locking gaze with him. Math wasn’t mathing.

Carlos smiled, genuinely curious as to why his old teammate had approached you – or tried to, before noticing the presence of a third wheeler – so confidently when, according to you and your brother’s words, no one in the paddock knew a thing about you. «No, not really. She is a VIP guest Charles asked me to treat good. Probably a friend of his.» Carlos grinned. «Do you know each other?» You could tell by the tone that the question, though his eyes were on Lando, was actually directed at you as well, and you could easily imagine the confusion and the frustration reigning in Carlos’ head. «Uhm, yeah.» Lan said, unsure. «We’re friends.»

>>♥<<

The knob clicked closed behind you. It had been a long day: trying not to show your inner turmoil, trying not to think about him too much, trying to make sense of the situation that had formed before your eyes in the span of a morning.

we need to talk i'll let you in my hotel room, i'm at the same floor charles is 8.30

You glanced at every clock your eyes could spot, compulsively checking the time on your phone’s screen, always managing to forget it and therefore forced to take a look again. Hours drew longer and longer as the moment approached, they projected shadows on your thoughts, dark and frightening.

Clearing your throat, you knocked on his door lightly and it surprised you when you felt it retreat from your touch almost immediately, opening. You quickly shuffled inside, hoping not to be seen by anyone in the corridor. Carlos vaguely glanced at you, as you could tell he was deep in thought. Not sure what to start with, you grabbed his hands, fidgeting with his fingers so that you keep your head low staring at them. «How does Lando know you?» «We met in Monaco without knowing that… that he was him and I was me. We became friends before Charles could even find out.» «And how was Charles okay with it, given his “no sister” policy with us drivers?» «I guess he couldn’t do much, at that point. But Lan told me that he had to swear he wouldn’t say a word about me.» «The only secret he was ever able to keep.» Carlos scoffed. «It had to be the most precious girl, of course.» You raised your eyes at him. «What do we do now?» Carlos didn’t answer, choosing to enjoy the silence and draw you near with his arm; he let you adjust in the hug, as you wrapped his waist, while he left a kiss on your head. That shower of love reminded you how much you had longed for his presence; despite being hundreds of kilometers away from home, you still somehow felt in the right place. You knew what Carlos was about to say. Yet, his words came late, choosing to settle in the embrace a little more, adjusting just so that he could wrap you tighter and fit perfect. «Charles can’t know.» You shut your eyelids close, inhaling deeply. Embarking in a secret relationship wasn’t on the plan, weeks earlier. Neither was Carlos. >>♥<< His fingertip traced your skin, removing unwanted strands of hair out of your face, watching you sleep in his arms with a tender smile. He let his digit draw soothing lines on your forehead, willing to undo its knit. It wasn’t going to be easy on any of you, lying to half world. And yet, no other choice was left.

«Did you save me as “so” because it stands for “significant other”?» Your cheek inseparable from the comforting warmth of his chest, you eyed up at him, irises glinting with amusement.

Carlos had invited you in his changing room inside Ferrari’s hospitality in order to chill and relax a bit before FP3 in Monaco. You were surprised to see there wasn’t a lot of space, forced to lay on a small couch. «Where did you learn that?» «Internet, of course.» he said, matter-of-factly. «What, did you search the short form of “smooth operator”?» Giggling, you threw another jokingly glance at him, noticing his brain gears moving as he spaced out. «I never realized…», he shifted his gaze on you, «until now.» Willing to get closer, you flipped around and climbed upwards, resting your hands on his broad chest, still smiling at him. «You’re my so, in every way.» You left a quick peck on his soft lips, biting your own in awe, admiring how lost he seemed. «So?» «So.» you tenderly brushed your nose against his. «It’ll be my secret code for you, from now on.» «I want it to be a secret code for me too.» Carlos’ lips curled in a pensive pout, while you couldn’t stop yourself from leaving another peck on them, slower this time, but still feather-like. «Then, you’re my… Sexy Owner?» You both burst out laughing. «What? It’s true, you’re both sexy and you own me.» «I don’t own you, Carlos.» you eye rolled, still grinning. «But we own each other.» he firmly grabbed your waist, as you still laid comfortable over him. «Or at least I own you, according to what you said last night…» The light pat he gave on your bun, paired up with his breath fanning on your neck triggered a cheerful chuckle in you. «What about Sweet Oath?» You looked back at him. «An oath?» «An oath of love. That’s why it’s sweet.» «You’re the one being sweet.»

Exchanging another small kiss, you got startled as Carlos’ alarm went off to warn him about the light training he was meant to do before free practice. «Never lasts long enough.» he grunted, leaving another kiss on your lips. «Are we hanging out tonight?» you asked, climbing off him reluctantly to let him go. «Maybe right after qualifying. I need to attend a dinner with sponsors.» «Business nights, uh?» He grinned, as you both stood up. «Be careful when you exit the room. Wait here a few minutes.» «Good luck.» «It’s just free practice.» he grinned.

After he had closed the door, you sat back again on the red pillowed coach, taking a closer look to the furniture: a painting with both Carlos and his father; a Spanish flag, to which you smiled reminded of the trip to Playa de el Cañuelo; the white varnish of the wardrobe. That small corner of Monaco was dressed in Carlos' clothes as the only fortress of freedom in a country so foreign to him and so dearly close to you. The thought that he'd be living in Monaco too pretty soon and that seeing each other wouldn't be a problem through his off season quickened your heartbeat. Your love was growing fast, faster than anyone racing in those streets.

Hearing nothing but stillness outside the room, you opened the door and got out without suspicion, ready to go downstairs. «Y/n?» Struck, you stopped and raised your gaze, who was following your feet's movement. Lorenzo. He was in the guests’ area of the second floor, phone in hand, staring right in your direction. «Yes?» Fuck, you knew he had seen you. You could read it in his face, in the way the brows wrinkled his forehead, in the unsure tone he had used to call you, in the slow steps he made towards you. He halted, pausing to place his phone back in the pocket. «All good?» «Yes, just need to use the restroom real quick.» He nodded small as a sign to let you go. Confirmed, he had noticed. He knew you were lying.

>>♥<<

Waving back to fans behind the pitlane fence as a form of greeting and thanking, Charles rushed back inside the garage. The love he received in Monaco was comparable to nothing else. Walking those streets, getting to drive them and own an entire country, wrapped around his fingers, was quite the power at such a young age. Still, Charles didn’t feel pressure from it, nor the need of controlling or maintaining it: when you’re comfortably in the lead, you only see the road ahead and you don’t focus on the position you’re in.

Entering the box, searching for Andrea, Charles didn’t expect to find you engaged in a conversation with his teammate. About F1. «… and they could undercut us.» «Undercut? What does that mean?» Watching Carlos talk and gesture data on a screen, hearing his words half eaten up by the noise of the mechanics cleaning the garage, Charles didn’t stray his stare once. The way his hand lingered on the small of your back, almost without touching it but still hovering on you like a magnet's pole meeting one of the same sign, not able to make contact and yet forcing proximity, pressed an emergency button in Charles' brain. And even more so, as you gazed intently at the screen, willing to follow the Spaniard's explanations. Because when you’re in the chase, the subordinate position you’re in never ceases to pound in your head as the deadliest sin.

Before he could even prevent himself, Charles was already walking towards you with hands stuffed down into his loose sweatpants. «This is why in case of safety cars it's best to-» «Pit so no one undercuts you. Right, Carlos?» He knew. Inside his eyes, Charles could read annoyance for the interruption, as he saw your attention shifting from Carlos to himself. «Why are you guys talking about undercut? What did I miss?» «Carlos was teaching me some stuff on strategies, since I had some questions.» «You? Questions on strategy?» Charles scoffed, almost jokingly. «And why didn't you ask me instead?» «Because Carlos is a great teacher.» you grinned. «And he was the only one available.» Two bullets shot at once. A glint, the fastest and subtlest, flashed in Carlos' dark irises, bright enough to catch Charles' attention. Neither of them was keen on the idea of losing, but if there was anything Charles didn't want to be won over was a stranger engaging with you and getting your undivided attention better than he had ever done himself. He couldn't bear anyone winning you. «So?» The angles of your mouth curved in a smile unconsciously, hearing that secret code escape Carlos’ lips with such a teasing tone; and it tasted even sweeter when Charles decided to simply walk away, answering nothing to the cruel evidence.

White and black waved at the cross line, as a red car flew on the straight. The jewel had been caste onto his long due awaited Prince’s crown: Charles had won in Monaco. Emotion brimmed in every pair of eyes you met. First Lorenzo, then Pascale hugging you up, you stared at the screen and tried to make sense of your brother’s team radio being broadcasted, while you tried not to lose Carlos out of sight through the wide window giving you a majestic glimpse of the Principality. You all ran downstairs, flooding the pitlane to welcome the winner, to see his fist brought up to the sky, to hear the screams and cheers muffled by his helmet, to release your breath as soon as Charles sighed in relief too.

As you followed his red suit launching into the mechanics crowd, you swallowed hard at the scene, Charles ruffling Arthur’s hair and hugging each other with joy. It was less than a couple of meters away from you, and yet it felt like joy was a matter only to be shared between them, as if that win they so much ached for was only meant to drown you down in a painful defeat.

Charles eyed you behind Ferrari’s president Elkan but didn’t linger on you much, swamped by other people congratulating him; Carlos, instead, embracing the man who was unconsciously guarding you from the track – said Elkan –, he took the opportunity to make a deep eye contact. You noticed he must be tired or bothered by thoughts too, and if only cameras weren’t capturing every single second of the happy chaos filling the boulevard, you would’ve leaned in to leave a kiss on those soft, plump lips of his.

>>♥<<

«I know you might disagree, but… Today was a really special day for Charles and it’d be great if you could join the celebrations tonight, with him. With us.» Your mother hummed to Lorenzo’s words, glancing at you to check your reaction, which was more than slow to show. «Charles, a-and Arthur as well, would be so happy to have us all together, like the family we are.» The family you were. You stood in silence, eyes purposefully avoiding theirs not to dwell on that unhappy phrasing, carefully pondering and recalling the brief conversation you and Carlos had barely managed to hold after the podium celebration back in his small room inside the hospitality, easily hiding when the full attention was placed on Charles. There’d probably be a celebration of P3 too. «Dad would’ve liked it as well.» Pascale added. And what then? Wouldn’t a chance to see Carlos be more than enough to set resentment and old rotten feelings aside? «Yes.» Lorenzo agreed, lowering his head. «Where is he partying?» you asked, monotone. «How come where? At Jimmy’z, of course.» Your eyeroll was accompanied by a sharp inhale, regretting already the resolution you had just formed. «I’ll go home as soon as I’m tired or bored.» «Are you really coming?» Lorenzo asked surprised, as if he had just made peace with the fact you would turn the invitation down. «But of course! You can go home whenever you feel like it, since we’ll probably stay up very late… You’ll make him happy just by being present for five minutes.» «Don’t give me ideas I wouldn’t hesitate to put into work.» you said, teasingly. Pascale grinned wide, sincerely glad to have all the Leclerc’s on the same page – quite a novelty, lately. «Good! Do you need help choosing your dress? Styling your hair, maybe?» «No, mom, I’m fine. I can manage.» «Okay, I see… Always the self-made woman!»

>>♥<<

The shiver and the adrenaline coursing through your blood as soon as you put foot in the club inevitably sprung a smirk upon your lips. You knew it was a mistake, and still, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling for it. You, Carlos and your brother dancing and getting wasted in the same room.

You had felt it right as you posed against the Jimmy’z cardboard next to Charles for some family shots, it was in the nice breeze travelling down your skin: you knew it was on you, and you only flashed smiles to the camera because you were aroused by that thought. Carlos’ stare. It told you everything you needed to know as soon as it found you among the crowd and rested on you; his eyelids had widened in surprise, while he frowned, worry and concern concealed by a layer of undeniable excitement. In that quick exchange of looks, it was made painfully obvious to both of you that staying away from each other would be a challenging task, almost impossible, if only Charles’ delightful expression wouldn’t haunt your sight left and right.

«Lando! Lan, congrats, bae!» you slurred, lacing your arms around his neck. «Thanks, babe! I wasn’t on the podium, but I appreciate.» he laughed. He then paused and checked you out with smiling eyes, trying to interpret your weirdly affectionate state. «Who did you get all this cute and worked up for?» «Uh?» Lando had to repeat the question through the loud cheers of Charles’ friends near you. «Whose heart are you trying to steal being this giggly and adorable?» Eyes bored deep into his, suppressing a smile biting your lower lip, you faked the purest honesty and innocence of mind. «No one’s.» Your hidden mischief didn’t go unnoticed to Lando, who nonetheless decided to let it slide off his mind, letting his gaze wander in the packed floor. «Want to dance?» His quick request caught you off guard, making you turn around to him with a puzzled expression. You had barely even realized his hand was resting friendly on your naked shoulder, his fingers squeezing it gently as to silently repeat the offer. «Yes, sure!» Lando vibed to the beat, taking small sips while flashing smiles at you: he could see you were having fun and definitely not sparing any ounce of energy, letting your hair sway left and right to the rhythm. Until, a flash. Behind you, in the sea of dancing bodies, he had caught someone flicking his eyes on you. Lando decided to take another sip, considering it wouldn’t be unusual for people to notice you. But then it struck again, and he managed to catch the person’s face. «What’s wrong?» you half-screamed at Lando, trying to make yourself be heard. «Nothing, thought I saw someone I know.» He then brushed your arm lightly. «I’ll come back in a second.»

>>♥<< Drink in hand – an unnecessary one, since you were already quite tipsy, but absolutely required to argue with Arthur like lords far from the dancing chaos – you reasoned out loud that the only good thing about Jimmy’z was the music. He chuckled in agreement, taking a sip. «The venue is cool, though, don’t you think?» he asked. «Would be better off without those naked girls flashing everyone.» «They’re not naked!» Arthur smugly replied. «But I see why you’re not interested.» «Are you?» you asked, disgusted. «I mean…» You scoffed at his collected reticence. «C’mon, don’t play the goody two shoes! I bet you wouldn’t complain if it was a sixpack on full display.» «But I don’t want to be flashed every single second. I’m not always in the mood, you know?» you teased, placing your gaze back to the crowd. Arthur kept staring at you, raising a brow and pulling a knowing smile. «Oh, really?» «Yes.» «Then why have you been dancing like crazy all over Lando while wearing your revenge dress?» You looked at him, genuinely puzzled. «Revenge dress?» «This is the dress you wore the night after breaking up with that dickhead of your ex-boyfriend when we partied at Buddha’s. It’s the “partying ‘til I forget my name” sexy dress.» The realization made you laugh uncontrollably hard, spitting out the sip you had taken back into the glass and obliging you to lean on Arthur’s arm for support. Of course, you couldn’t refrain from laughing long enough to let your brother know how drunk you actually were, how unstable you seemed to be on your high heels and how difficult it would be to let you go back home alone in that state.

While gripping Arthur’s arm tight for support, a trail movement at the back of the room perked your interest, and you were quick to see a group of people walking towards the VIP room, amongst which you easily spotted Charles – under his unmistakable Monaco flag – and, to your dismay, Carlos. You flung yourself away from Arthur, rushing to the VIP room door before they could reach it, dodging waiters and bodies dancing around, trying your best not to twist your ankle in the process; ignoring Carlos’ widening irises, you grabbed the shuffling flag away from Charles’ head and bore your eyes into his. «What are you doing?» you asked. «We wanted to go inside-» «I want to come in!» you pouted. Charles, already quite wasted, stared at you, seemingly unable to make sense of your weird request. He’d always thought you didn’t like the VIP room, he had it clear; still, your fingers gripping his shirt and your eyebrows knitted in plead were unequivocal signs of protest in utter contradiction with the past. It didn’t even cross his mind why he would ever deny you the access when he had, in fact, waited for you to get closer to him and join him since the very beginning. Since forever. He would always have to see you party with your friends in other clubs, purposely avoiding the one he was in, just so that you couldn’t meet him. It was a no brainer for him to giggle at you and ruffle your hair with a drunk smile, heart swelling with pride and happiness. «Of course, let’s go!»

The shades of the dim lights were blue and red, creating nice purple shadows on the black leathered couches, on the uncountable glasses placed on the coffee table, on the features of everyone sitting around you. Shameless, you couldn’t help but focus your entire attention onto seducing Carlos from across the table: index tracing the edge of your cup, taking sips from the straw while looking straight into him, crossing your legs so that the thin fabric of your dress would expose even more of your thighs. An ineffable pleasure hit you when you noticed the gleam in his dark eyes. He was hooked. You had seen him seeking relief from the heat creeping on his body, pulling away from his neck the tight-fitting shirt with a finger, shifting in his seat, first leaning over with his forearms on the thighs in order to desperately get involved in the conversation and avoid staring at you for an unreasonable amount of time, then ultimately giving up, crashing his back onto the back of the couch, manspreaded. Useless to say you fell into his trap. His smug smirk, half-lidded eyes, warned you he had very well noticed your reaction; catching you staring was the sweetest revenge, but still let him unsatisfied. He had to swipe the palm of his sweaty hands onto his trousers and swallow hard, as he watched you drink your thirst away and diverge gaze, before one of you could call out the shitshow and drag the other out of the club to finally have what you both wanted, touch starved.

Luckily for you, nobody at the table had picked up on the intense and mutual riling up competition you had started: except for Lorenzo. His eyes had followed Carlos’ body spreading wide on the couch and his clear arousal after feasting on your poses all night. Lorenzo hadn’t missed the way you had bit your lower lip, immediately taking a long sip of your drink, visibly affected by the exchange of looks with Carlos. Before he could process it any further, you abruptly popped standing up. «I’m going dancing!» Not that anyone really followed you; Charles, as well as all his friends, were deep in conversation – or, at least, drunkenly attempting to – digging up the past and cherishing the incredible victory achieved.

Carlos turned his head around, unable to stop following your silhouette everywhere like a sunflower chases the brightest star in the galaxy: you were that charming to him, that dear. «Carlos, what about you?» Carlos’ head snapped back to the table, breath almost audibly hitched, wide eyes placed on Lorenzo who had been the one to address him. He hadn’t heard the question, because he had been too caught up admiring the way your hips would sway to the rhythm, tracing imaginary lines on your neck, along your collarbone, done to the neckline of your dress… Fuck. «Sorry, I spaced out for a second. What was the question?» He knew Lorenzo hadn’t bought it, it was written in bold letters, between the lines, but Carlos acknowledged he had decided to let it drop for the moment, and he was, obviously, relieved. «How do you feel about the podium?»

You were stoked. You had rarely ever experienced such a high in your years spent in the most exclusive clubs of Monaco, and you could just feel everything was incredible: the blasting music, the drinks, the company. It was the first time you had joined clubbing with all your brothers together, and it hadn’t gone south as you had always expected to. Deep down, though, you couldn’t fake it was probably due to someone else’s presence getting your family off your mind and preventing you from focusing on anything and anyone.

He was still sitting on the couch, briefly talking to the others, but he always managed to peek at you amongst the crowd. You found the perfect hiding spot for your improvised dancing performance to Carlos behind the back of what seemed to be a guy about your age. It allowed you to momentarily disappear from his sight just enough to keep him searching for you, returning a wicked smile whenever he would small grin at you. «Are you good, mate?» Charles’ giggle alarmed Carlos once again, obliging him to nod at his teammate. «You sure? You seem a little… tense.» The chuckles and the laughter bursting from Charles’ side of the table didn’t please the Spaniard, making him rather confused. «I’m fine, actually.» They both stared at each other, Charles’ eyes sparkling in drunkenness and mischief, still smirking with both dimples on display. «I have a gift for you, Carlos.» Carlos gulped as soon as he saw Charles’ fingers gesturing as to bring something next to the table; the green eyes still fixed on him, Carlos tried to free himself from whatever was to come, reassuring Charles on the fact that if anyone needed gifts, well, that was the winner of the Grand Prix, not the third classified. «But Carlos! You aren’t turning down my gift, are you?» he said. «Because in that case, you know what they say… Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right?» Charles leaned back onto the couch, resting his arm on the top. Carlos tried to throw a last glance at you, not able to find you in the swaying sea of bodies, but as soon as he had turned his head over the dance floor, he had seen the ‘gift’ approaching, and his lips parted in surprise. And disgust. One of the many dancers hired for the VIP room, hanging around and serving tables with little to no clothes on, climbing the small three steps separating the table from the dance floor. «Never look in the mouth, but… you can take a great look at everything else.» Charles smirked wide, enjoying the embarrassment and the amused commotion he had created between his friends. As the woman took a step closer to Carlos knees, he was quick to halt her lascivious moves by standing up, driven by madness at how clearly Charles had planned it only to cause a scene and enjoy how he would entangle away from such a predicament, well knowing he couldn’t act on the rage coursing in his heated blood. Carlos’ mouth went completely dry, despite the drinks he had had in order to forget he was sitting in the lions’ cage and hideously having to socialize with people who despised him as much as he did. To forget that you were the sister of that bratty, annoying, childish prince of Monaco.

Carlos darted his eyes to Charles, fingers clenching into a fist, desperately trying not to give in and offer the reaction everyone awaited as to get him to be kicked out from the club. A shatter of glass interrupted Carlos’ trail of thoughts, making him turn his head to the noise coming from the dance floor. He noticed a waitress’ tray had crashed and wetted the floor, right above the stairs next to their table, as you rushed excuses and apologies to the girl.

Carlos was about to walk down and help you getting out of the embarrassment only to get rid of his own, but he needed no further convincing the moment he saw a pair of hands grab your waist from behind, drawing you close to his body. It was a young guy, the same you had used as a shield in the crowd, who had ultimately turned around and noticed your dancing, mistakenly thinking you were addressing him with those moves and not your boyfriend sat meters away.

«What’s your name, sweetheart?» It had escalated the moment you had tried to reach Carlos both to sneak away from the unrelenting advances and to shoo away the unwanted presence of one of the dancers near your man. «Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t had fun yet!» He had spun you around grabbing your shoulder, quick to press his body onto yours; out of fear, disgust and panic, you had pushed yourself away from him with all your might, tumbling backwards on your heels and hitting the waitress. «Leave me alone!» Carlos needed no more. His eyes renewed with fire, in no time he had reached you and had snatched those foreign, dirty hands away from you. «Are you deaf? Leave.» No matter how loud the music was, you could feel Carlos’ low voice echoing in your chest, vibrations reaching your stomach: you hadn’t been that close to him all night and his sudden presence daunted you all at once. «What? Who are you to tell me what to do?» A couple of friends of the guy backed him up, as Carlos smiled out of utter disbelief and fury. You wrapped his wrist tight, hoping to hold him back in the unknown propositions you knew he might be harboring. «Someone who could get you out of this country in less than two minutes.» You turned around, surprised to see Charles dismiss the jovial and light-hearted grin he had worn all night to put on a devilish smile, his green irises concealing a hint of madness. Carlos had wiggled out of your hold, scared that your brother could notice it, as you both stared at Charles with curiosity and bewilderment. «Maybe three, if you leave immediately and forget to come here for the rest of your life.» he added, looking down at his Richard Mille.

Peeking behind their backs, the ridicule group gulped noticing a group of bodyguards approaching. Charles flashed them back with the smile of someone who has the entire world wrapped around his fingers and manages to win it all. Still, glancing back at you, he felt no power, no control. Lorenzo had approached you and was making sure you were okay, hands grabbing your arms delicately. Carlos, who had stepped in first, didn't allow Lorenzo to take care of you alone, and stood close to you, worry painted in his eyes. And what had Charles done? What had he done for you? He hadn't even noticed you were in danger. He was so focused on himself, on the mischief he had reserved for his teammate. It was the first time you were partying together and he had left you out of his conversations, his laughs, his memories' sharing, to the point you had gone dancing alone to find the company he hadn't given you.

Charles' head started buzzing, mental fog clouding his actions. He stared at you, lost, eyes glinting in drunkenness. «I'll ask Arthur to bring you back home, okay?» Lorenzo said to you. «I'll give her a ride.» Like a magnet, your eyes flew to Carlos right as he spoke. Your brother looked at him with an inquiring look, not sure why Charles' teammate would ever consider himself adequate for the task. «You guys should all stay here and celebrate together.» Carlos smiled. «I was about to leave too.» «Well, then... Thank you, Carlos.» Lorenzo grinned while Charles blinked through the interaction without grasping the meaning, which was brutally revealed as Carlos put his hand on the small of your back and escorted you towards the exit of the VIP room. And you were gone. Again.

>>♥<<

Unbeknownst to you, inside the VIP room you had kept rather quiet, experiencing a moment of down after having drunk that much. After dancing it out and getting your adrenaline levels up with the incident, stepping back into the main floor of Jimmy'z, swamped by the overwhelming heat, you had to get a good grip on Carlos' shoulder not to lose balance. «Hey, are you good?!» Aaaand you fell. Of course. Pouting and whining, you did what Carlos hoped you didn't: throw a drunk tantrum. «I don't want to leave!» He sighed, picking you up from the ground with ease and making sure you'd stand on your own. «Be a good sister and obey your brother, huh?» «I'd only obey... you.» and with your pointer finger on his chest, you smirked at him. «Then let's go home.» «Ughh, you're no fun! I want to stay!» «Is everything okay?» The voice signaled the approaching of Lando, fast enough to take an apprehensive look at you. As soon as Carlos met the Brit’s eyes, a wave of comfort washed over him. «She's drunk and I've been told by her brothers to bring her home...» Lando raised a brow at you suddenly hugging Carlos and complaining in slurred sentences. «But she doesn't want to.» Carlo sighed, defeated. «Need help?» «Yep. Much needed.» «Y/n!» Escorted out of the club by the two of them at your sides, you only remembered getting in the passengers' seat of Carlos' car, while Lando showed him the way to your house from the backseat, with his elbow leaning just above your headrest. Thighs pressed on the luxurious leather of the Ferrari’s seat, you let out a giggle out of nowhere, not sure what was making you happy: your best friend's presence paired up with the love of your life's seemed enough.

>>♥<<

«'Right, let's get you some fresh clothes.» Lan moved quickly towards your wardrobe, knowing exactly where to search for a pair of shorts and a plain bedtime shirt. Carlos, while following his movements, flipped you upwards, since you had fallen onto the bed like a dead weight facing the mattress. «Here!» Lando joined Carlos, staring at you with a sigh. «She can't put them on herself, I guess.» «No, I don't think she can.» «So… how do we do?» Carlos reached for the hem of your top without a second thought, well used to the feeling of your warm skin on his fingers while sliding clothes off of you; spreading wide your rosy cheeks with a smile, you settled for his touches, complying to the well-practiced duet, sure it was the right reward after a night of mutual pining. It seemed like Lando's presence wasn't relevant enough, or at least it didn't cause any second thought on proceeding with the stripping down before his eyes. You raised your arms, teasingly, waiting for Carlos to remove your top, which he did, leaving you only with your bra on and your high-waisted shorts. «Give me the shirt.» Lan handed it to him, furrowed eyebrows, examining carefully Carlos' moves. Smirking, you laced your arms around his neck and strived to leave a kiss on his cheek, but suddenly aware of the Brit’s stare, Carlos gave him a sheepish smile, placing a hand on your back as you didn't unglue yourself from him. «Where’s my goodnight kiss?» Lando, brows knitted and batting eyelashes quickly, examined the careful yet tender smile blooming on Carlos’ lips after your drunk request, followed by the peck he left on your forehead. Melting under the touch, you cuddled back in bed, grinning wide like a child, while the two drivers silently switched off the lights and exited the room.

Firing up the engine, the revving noise of Ferrari’s horsepower covered partially the few words escaping Lando’s lips as a reflex of a realization. «It’s you, isn’t it?» «What?» «You’re her boyfriend. You’re the guy she met in Miami.» The sky had fallen silent, though the streets of Monaco shone and the pavement brimmed with people strolling by in search of fun. Carlos glanced briefly at Lando, who was still staring and expecting an answer; then, gripping the steering wheel, he focused back on the road, unconsciously smiling. «Is it that obvious?» «I mean…» Lan gulped, avoiding gaze. «She was trying to kiss you, what other confirmation do I need?» The smile spread wide, uncontainable at this point, fueled by the memory of the cute and clingy behavior you had shown off in front of both himself and Lando. The ride kept silent for a while, as the Brit studied Carlos’ collected calm concealed under a sweating, hot body, veins in his arms popping out the tanned skin. «She told me you were pretty secretive about it all.» «Well, I didn’t want to rush her into a crazy public relationship full of formalities.» he stopped at a traffic light. «But if you really want to know, I had planned on going public next week.» «It sounds like you won’t.» «Because we can’t.» «Why not?» Lando turned to face him. Carlos gripped the steering wheel harder and stared back at the traffic light. «Charles.» «Charles what?» «Told me to stay away from her.» he accelerated, seeing the green light. «And don’t tell me “Fuck that”, because you know I’m in no position to. I’m sure that if he wanted, he could convince the team to drop me mid-season.» «Well, I see. It sucks.» «Yeah.» Pensive for a few turns of Monaco, Lando was quick to speak up again. «But isn’t love stronger than anything else?» «You can’t make a living out of love and carelessness, you know?» «I’m just saying that… She loves you a lot.» «I do too.» «I think… I think she would give up on Charles, for you.» «I don’t want her to sacrifice anything or anyone for me, let alone her loved ones.» «Need to throw up, after this.»

Carlos had asked you to sleep in his hotel room without too much thought; as a quite established couple, though hiding it, he just wanted to put his arms around you and feel your body heaving by his side, especially on weekends in which the tension upon his shoulder started to take a toll on him. The negotiations with Williams and Audi going south; the relationship with Charles wearing thin; the team starting to gatekeep the car development and excluding him from some technical feedback. Some days he only wanted to take a deep breath in and exhale loudly, in silence, searching for inner peace; he figured it would be easy with your sparkly presence next to him. He hadn’t anticipated seeing the situation affecting you as much. With a hand resting on your stomach, he could feel your heartbeat quicken and your breath being sharp and irregular. Even though you were both supposed to be sound asleep, the room already drowned in darkness, he could tell you were fighting your fears, your imagination running wild in open fields he knew nothing of. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, soothingly, you curled up, to become smaller and smaller, to take less space, and Carlos matched your movements pulling you closer to him.

In the morning, watching you offer him a coffee inside the hospitality with the brightest smile, he’d be left wondering: which vulnerable side you were both trying to show and conceal to his awareness. And when you cuddled in his changing room, he’d be willing to ask and address it but then stopped as you fidgeted with his fingers, delaying the answer, inevitably discouraging him from pursuing the truth. Still, whenever the two of you hid from the world to build a fort of intimacy and love - whichever place you’d find the most fitted to your hot-blooded desires: cramped in his changing room, late night sessions on the desk of the strategy department, making out in the backseat of a media van with tinted windows -, he could read the intense, swamping need of putting worries to sleep, he could taste it on your lips, on your collarbone, and he could sense it in the sweet scent of your hair, an implicit beg for freedom from an unknown chain. Through each breath, in each moan you let out, Carlos could hear faint pleads, a soft voice praying for him not to ask, not to speak, not to remind you, not to ruin the magic of the moment.

Carlos had, indeed, good reasons to think something beneath the surface was unsettling you. You felt it too, during the shared flight with your brothers; and then while stepping foot back again in the land which had brought so much happiness to you and that, still, couldn't swipe away the nasty shadow eating you alive. It followed you, haunted you.

Thursday, 20th June 2024. Written in bold letters on an article about the F1 weekend you were reading, and suddenly the gloom took shape. Seven years. Raising your eyes from the screen of your phone, you glanced at Charles, searching for the same wave of despair and melancholy your heart was overcome by, finding nothing but a light tint of blue under his eyes. Maybe you still had words entangled between your vocal folds yet to be spoken, yelled at him, buried inside your body under the compact soil of time; maybe prejudice had precluded a relationship not so unreachable or despicable as you had always imagined. Because maybe, well disguised by an uncracked mask, you were both harboring the same regret and grief. Or maybe not.

>>♥<<

You walked down the paddock marching to Ferrari’s garage, smile on full display, Charles’ gifted Ray Bans shielding you from judgment as you sported your shirt with the confidence of a star; it was loose enough for you to swim inside of it but still letting the hem of your shorts show beneath it. Ferrari 55 You didn’t miss the friendly smiles of the mechanics and engineers, who had got accustomed to your presence throughout the weeks, at the sight of the bright red merch. Quite pleased with the reaction, you glanced left and right with a single goal in mind, and as you hit it the grin grew wider, mimicking the one Carlos wore on his face. «How do I look?» You twirled around so that he could see better how the cotton draped your silhouette, clearly outlined by his imagination despite the lack of transparency. He had traced your body with his eyes, with his rough hands, with his thoughts way too much not to be obsessed by it, not to remember every single corner of it.

Charles, entering the garage in that same moment with a bit of a rush, since he was running late to the activities established for the day, distractedly took a look in your direction, only to turn his head a second time as he noticed his teammate checking you out with too much familiarity. «What’s going on here?» «Cha’! I was asking Carlos his opinion on my new outfit.» He took a moment to let his eyes scan top to bottom a couple of times, before nostalgically smiling. He had never wanted to see you on track during the kart days because your relationship wasn’t particularly good and he knew you wouldn’t agree anyway. But since F2, since your dad’s condition had started to worsen, since Baku, since his finger raised to show the Je t’aime papa on his rear wing, he had always dreamed of having you support him. He knew he was too old to hide in Pascale’s arms, but craving his little sister’s affection wasn’t as childish. Still, it was way harder to obtain. And having it now, eyes not missing the sunglasses you used as a hairband, so glad you appreciated that gift to the point you wore them that often, felt like that dream was coming true.

«So…What do you think, Carlos?» The Spaniard, a bit surprised by the ball being passed to him immediately, hesitated some more in the staring. «Red looks amazing on you.» «Does it?» you asked, coquettish, turning your shoulder a bit. Enough to show the number on the back. «Yes, it does.» Charles said, anticipating Carlos’ answer. «Now we need to get done with the social media challenge before the briefing. Right, Carlos?» «Yep. I’m coming.» As Charles turned his back to move away, Carlos seized the moment to whisper in your ear. «And my scent fits you amazingly as well…», you smirked in sync. «Did you steal it from my wardrobe?» «Maybe.» «Keep it. I want to rip it off of you tonight.» «Tonight? Thought it’d convince you to find more time for me earlier in the day, but seems like I was wrong…» Knowing you had hit a vulnerable point, you enjoyed Carlos’ hand brushing casually your hip while passing by and pretending to let you go, only to capture you with words. «I’d fuck you right now on the counter next to the helmets.» he paused, licking his ruby lips. «But since you’re trying to rile me up at work, you’ll pay the price by waiting.»

>>♥<<

2 new messages from Lando

[picture] you guys are going public or something?

You smiled staring at the photo Scuderia Ferrari had posted on X: it was a shot taken on the pit area of you with Ferrari merch – in fact, number 55’s one – and Carlos resting his hand on your waist.

> can’t a driver and his teammate’s sister pose together for a pic? they can, but… not being subtle at all here, just saying

>>♥<<

Dining at a table hidden away from Netflix crew and photographers, you chugged down water in large sips. «Did he congratulate you?» Charles smiled. «Think he wished for me to have a mechanical failure like in 2022.» You drank and drank again, hand never letting go of your glass, willing to extinguish the fire – once a mere fever – which had built up in your chest since first hearing your brothers’ words about Carlos.

An infuriating, consuming flame of love. «He pushed me off the track in China… Don't know what he'll do in his home race, starting in front of him.» «If the strategy is to save tyres, the team should ask you to keep the positions in the first stint at least.» Charles snorted at Lorenzo's reasoning. «I'm sure. Can't wait for his mother's comments defending him whatever shit Carlos does on track.» «Can you please stop?» Charles eyed you from across the table a bit surprised, visibly annoyed by the tone and the request. «Stop doing what?» «Talking shit about someone who's not present and whom you don't know a thing about.» Charles almost burst out laughing in front of you, while Lorenzo threw you a confused and alarmed look, warning you about the dangerous territory you had stepped in. «Oh, right, I don't know anything… Then tell me, what do you know about him, uh?» Out of frustration, you stood up abruptly, struggling to form a proper answer. «What I know is that you’re still a fucking child who can’t never, ever accept he’s wrong!» «Guys, tone it down.» Lorenzo said, getting up and approaching you to grab gently your arm. You brushed him off and stormed out of the room, hearing your older brother's steps following close behind you. As you were about to turn around and dismiss him, since you needed no babysitter, Lorenzo spoke the words you had expected him to spit out one month earlier. Only you weren’t expecting to hear them now. «What were you doing in Carlos' room?» You kept facing away from him, not able to move nor to answer. «Why do you keep attending race weekends only to disappear without explanation and avoid Charles and all of us like the plague?» he said, stepping forward. «Did you really think I wouldn't notice?» «Does Charles know?» you asked. «No.» he said. «But if it's serious, you should definitely tell him.» «If?» you turned around to face him. «Are you kidding me? Of course it's serious, indeed, very serious-» «Then you need to talk about it, because this doesn't only involve you but-» «I'm not listening to this bullshit, sorry.» you retreated. «You don't get to tell me how to live my life.»

>>♥<<

Watching them from the pitlane, two red dots moving in the distance, you sensed something was off. Approaching them, dots elongating into silhouettes you so well recognized, you knew something was off. Given the race just disputed – which you had followed from Ferrari’s garage, biting your lips – you kind of expected it to be, but nothing more than a scratch due to adrenaline still running high. Still, you quickly realized how the matter stood different, struggling to catch up with their strides, helmets swinging with force from their hands as they animatedly discussed.

Surprised to see they entered the hospitality instead of walking towards the media pen as expected, you rushed inside, panting from the effort finally compensated, only to be welcomed by yelling now fully unleashed. «WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY?!» «CHARLES!» Screaming at the top of your lungs as you saw him tug Carlos’ suit, you tore him away, staring at him both furious and terrified, breathing harshly. «Did you sleep with him?!» «It’s none of your busin-» Carlos spitted out, bitter, enraged at the tone he had addressed you with. «Shut the fuck up!» he barked at Carlos, then looking back at you with fiery eyes. «Tell me you didn’t, y/n.» Your fingers weakened their hold onto Carlos’ suit, as you felt the weight of his own hand on your waist lift off from perception, and your mind suddenly went black. You had lost him, yet another time. Like you had ever had him.

You stood still, arms resting lifeless to your sides, eyes still piercing his. What would he do now? What would he say next? How would he treat you from now on, after discovering that you had sticked with him through weekend races around the globe not to enjoy his company, but to sneak with a teammate he didn’t even like? Would he feel betrayed? Would he feel as lonely as you’d always felt? Would he… hate you? His lack of reaction was the painful delay of the stab you expected in the middle of the chest.

A voice inside of you, from a hidden corner of your disrupted soul, screamed in the deafening silence around you, as your father’s face flashed you awake from that trance: that was the weekend. And those, poking your chest, stinging at the bottom of your lungs, those were the feelings. You gagged. It was inevitable; it had come too quick, too sudden to notice. You had seen the warning sign linger in the unthought thoughts, in the untold truths, ready to slip in any moment. And it did.

When Charles stepped closer, your body jerked backwards, frantic, and you would’ve said it had been out of fear; but as you felt Carlos’ arms wrap your waist with might, you realized your knees had given up on your weight, and that you couldn’t, indeed, breathe. Everything rushed around you: without knowing how, you found yourself sitting on a couch, Charles holding both your hands and talking gibberish you couldn’t follow, a cloud of people dressed in red crowding you two, when Carlos suddenly missing in the blurry picture of your vision almost unblocked the choking clench in your throat and made you cough, before turning into a panting mess. «Can you hear me? What’s wrong, can you breathe?» Charles’ words reached you like a metal screeching noise, not really able to grasp their meaning as you kept gasping and panting; you could only focus on his sweaty, warm fingers tightly gripping yours. In distress, you shook them off, hands trembling like a leaf right after.

Charles, at a loss of words, gulped in terror, letting out a frustrated whine: he could do nothing. «Lorenzo, where is he?» «He’s not here.» Charles whispered, a sad and confused shade in his voice. «I need him, I need… I… Lorenzo…» «Hey, I’m here too…» he spoke soft, inching closer, willing to engulf you in a hug if only you’d let him. He had never been there. Charles had always left you on your own. Things had even managed to get worse, after the death of… You wheezed, bringing your hand near your throat. «Fuck, call the doctors from the medical center here at the track! Come on, go! Quick, for fuck’s sake!» Focusing on the way his expression was shaped into panic and madness, the clench in your throat seemed to loosen just enough to make you sigh, as tears pricked your eyes due to fear. «No, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay…» Charles was pained by your sobs, adding on top of your erratic breaths, and he placed a hand on your upper arm, hesitant but incapable of preventing it, because he couldn’t stand not being allowed to physically comfort you while you turned in shambles in front of him.

When you felt a hand gently place on your shoulder, you first had the instinct to flinch, but forced yourself not to as a small plastic-coated bag was handed to you from Carlos. «Breathe into the bag.» In and out, tears still running, you watched it expand and crinkle, full and empty, tuning into the rhythm of your heart slowly decreasing, and never letting slip into unawareness Carlos’ warm touch. You dropped down the bag once your breathing had settled back into a constant flow, despite being still hiccupped by sobs. Crushing between Carlos' arms, you gripped him tight. «Please, take me away from here.» you whispered, voice cracking. Charles saw your back caged and shielded by someone else's arms once again; he heard yet another time those same words, ticking inside of him like a bomb. He could still see you dressed in black, hair once combed and then miserably tousled, your frame smaller, seeking refuge in Lorenzo's embrace. Your dad's funeral. The day he realized he had not only lost Hervé, but he had also lost you. Your name slipped off Charles' lips almost inaudible, like a plea, while he got closer and raised his hand to touch you, to beg both permission and forgiveness. Carlos took a step back, drawing you even nearer to his chest to forbid him. «You don't get to touch her after what you said.» Why couldn't he never... «I'll do what you should've done instead.» Love you?

Spielberg 2024

Charles P11. Carlos P3.

Another great performance by the Spanish driver, who granted a podium for Ferrari during his last year in the team.

_____________________

4 new messages from Lando [picture] are you guys for real FINALLY official? ON THE FREAKING F1 ACCOUNT?! > ♥ yesssss

_____________________

Silverstone 2024

Charles P14. Carlos P5.

A solid weekend for Carlos Sainz despite the car being clearly difficult to drive, with great performances in mixed track conditions both in qualifying and in the race.

_____________________

f1 ✔ It seems like Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend y/n Leclerc had a little romantic getaway in London right after the race 🤭

_____________________

3 new messages from Charles we need to talk please call me back when you see this

«Nice try!» «There was a gust of wind…» «Yeah, sure. Keep dreaming of shots like mine.»

I’ve made so many mistakes

«So… Me +5, you +8, right?» «Yep.»

there are so many things that I want to change

«Onto the next hole, then!»

please don’t ignore me

«Ready, babe?»

I’ve missed you so much

«Y/n?» «Uh?» You finally raised your eyes from the screen, getting momentarily blinded by the sun hitting the golf green grass: protected and unbothered on the passenger seat of the golf cart, Carlos was about to follow Lando to the next hole of the course. «Don’t you answer?» «I… No.» «May I know who is it?» You sighed, simply turning the screen of your phone towards Carlos so that he could read the preview of Charles’ flood of texts. As the cart slowly started moving, you stayed silent. «I know you won’t like what I’m about to say, but I think someone should tell you this.» «What?» «It’s your brother, y/n.» You tsked, annoyed, crossing arms and looking on your right side, onto the endless fields of play. «So? Does this give him permission to treat badly both of us? And if anything, you should be mad at him more than I am.» «But I’d never ask you to hate him for me.» You stared at him, as he kept driving. «I know you love him, and I don’t want to see you sad and upset anymore because of anything that happened between me and him.» «It’s not just about you two…» «I know. But from his texts, it seems like he realized he was wrong and is willing to change.» Approaching the new golf hole, Carlos stopped the cart right behind Lando’s. «In four years, if I learned anything about Charles’ character, that’s his perseverance once he has a goal set.» he paused and then looked at you. «If you ignore him today, he’ll keep texting and calling you tomorrow, and the day after, until you give in.» «I don’t want to give in. He always gets what he wants, and I want him to understand I’m not a trophy he can keep on his shelf just because it’s the only one he lacks.» «I think you should hear his reasons anyway. You can always refuse afterwards, if you feel like he’s being superficial about it.»

>>♥<<

Monaco’s street merged with the gray of the liquid asphalt and the pouring column cascading from the plumbeous clouds. There was nothing more disappointing than to be forbidden the breathtaking scenery of the sea glimmering with sunshine splinters, and be left instead to a gray expanse of cold, humid and dampness.

You shook your umbrella, soaked in rain, squeezing it shut as you anticipated it being totally broken after the violent wind gusts blowing from the sea, and you brushed your lucid boots onto the rug, as you would always do. Welcome Home, it said. As soon as your jingling keys touched the small glass plate awaiting them in the hall, Charles was already springing up in front of you, visibly in distress. «Why did it take you so long?» Still struck by the violence of the storm which had welcomed you outside, and dazed by the hurry and urgence of Charles once you had got inside, you didn’t answer. «Did you get wet? Wait, let me get you new clothes.» You followed his erratic figure flinging in your room, opening the closet and scattering it through, in search of anything you might like to wear and change into. «This, it will make you feel warm.» «Cha’, I’m not cold…» «No, this one! This one is good, for sure.» Piling up clothes on the bed as he frenziedly looked through your entire wardrobe, you stood still waiting for him to stop. «Here, let’s change into these.» he said, handing a shirt and some trousers to you. Who… who was that? What had happened to old Charles? The one you’d always known? «C’mon, I don’t want you to get ill!» «You… you need to exit the room.» «Right!» It had never once showed his concerns for you this openly. You figured he had always been too far away from you and not present enough to make his worry evident; and yet you had never even dared dream about such a nurturing and caring brother. At least, you had never expected him to be, once you had fully realized he would never be that brother you so dearly hoped to have.

You sat on the bed, brushing the texture of the shirt he had chosen for you: a softness, a delicacy new-found in his madman behavior. Where from? Out of fear of losing you? Hypocritic. Or maybe just finally acknowledged his mistakes? Carlos’ words echoed in the silence of your bedroom. Listening to him didn’t cost you anything.

«I’m sorry. From how I treated you and Carlos, to how I never once stepped up to improve our relationship even when it was more in my power than in yours to do so.» You lowered your gaze, knowing full well what Charles was referring to and playing every scene, every talk, every fight in your mind like a rerun. «Me and dad barely included Arthur in my driving experience. We thought that there was no point in including you, who were even younger than him, in something you didn’t seem to have a lot of interest in.» «You both decided that for me.» «I know. I know now.» he nodded. «It was a terrible mistake to exclude you from my passion because it indirectly excluded you from my life.» «You weren’t even here when dad was at the hospital.» «Don't you think I know? Don’t you think I’ve suffered for that?» You, inevitably, cried; and he, inevitably, took you in his arms, hugging as strong and tight as he had ever done, as he had wanted to do the day he had come back for the funeral, the moment he had seen you cling onto Lorenzo’s shirt and be cradled by him. It should’ve been me, I should’ve supported you instead, his embrace now screamed. Charles undeniably loved you from the first time he had seen you: a little princess to guide and take care of, to cuddle to sleep when you were still a newborn, to shield from Arthur’s mischief dictated by jealousy from not being the youngest kid anymore. «I missed you.» The crack in his voice, the trembling of his chest upon yours warned you he was crying as well, inside your arms. You couldn’t help but sob louder, and grip his shirt tighter, burying your face in his neck. And yet, he knew that he needed to let that princess grow into a queen and, instead of shielding her from life, support her along the way. «As to Carlos…» he said. «Cha’, I love him, I can’t help it.» you said as he wiped a tear from your cheek. «Please, don't ask me to choose because I won’t.» «Y/n, I’m no one to say what you can and can’t do.» he dropped the tone of his voice. «And I’m definitely not entitled to say whom you can and can’t love.» You stood in shock, elaborating his words. «So…» «So, if Carlos makes you happy, then I support it. I support… you.»

>>♥<<

«So you're good now?» «Thanks to you, yes.» You laid back onto the swim towel, pressing on the sand of Playa de el Cañuelo, staring straight at Carlos who was laying right next to you. «I love the sun here in Spain, gosh…» «Brings back memories, right?» he smirked. «Yeah...» «Why don’t relive them?» In a glimpse, Carlos had grabbed you and you two rolled on the sand, so that you rested on top of him, giggling through the embrace you were now surrounded by. It was as natural as breathing the way you both leaned in to join lips in a messy kiss, smiling and grazing each other’s hot skin, building up steam in such a short amount of time. Dreamy eyes, Carlos placed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, speaking up again. «I was thinking of buying the villa, so I can stop renting it every month for us to come here.» «Really?» you beamed. «Would you like it?» «I'd love it.» «So then we can expand it and add a second floor, to have space for a playroom for our kids...» «What?» «This will be our holiday villa, once we get married.» Out of excitement, you peppered his face with kisses, secure in the hold of his hands. He then leaned in again, as the tips of your nose brushed on each other’s. «So... Where were we?»

So... First of all, congratulations for making it through! I hope you liked it! Thanks for any feedback - negative, neutral or positive - you'll leave! Wish you all a good day ♥

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[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Platonic Yandere DIO and daughter reader (who was abandoned at his house as a baby)

Hi thank you for the request, this is my first platonic request so I hope it's alright.

Familial Yandere Dio

At first Dio simply wanted to leave the child where they were but something compelled him to take the child. Maybe a small part of him thinks back on his childhood and takes pity. However he has no need for the weak so he uses a fragment of the stand arrow on the baby to prove their worthiness. The child doesn't die so he decides to keep them. They'd serve him well as a stand user in due time.

He has his servants raise her, luckily she had her name embroidered on the blanket she was wrapped in, (Y/n). However she still finds a way to get his attention. At first he simply passes her back off to the servants, agitated that this child will disrupt him. However over time he softened to her, she became less of a tool to him.

Soon he would allow (Y/n) into his bedroom and read to her whatever he was absorbed in at the time. He begrudgingly accepts the child calling him "dada". As soon as she develops proper talking skills he insists on being called father instead.

Around the age of 4 to 5 (Y/n) already quite independent. Already learning stuff more advanced then what her age range would. A model child by all accounts, however despite showing an ability to see stands hers hasn't quite manifested yet. She has been put through strenuous training yet still no results. She's also spoilt, she eats extravagantly, dresses in the nicest clothes a child could wear and is given almost anything she asks for.

As she grew up, she became aware of her lack of a stand. Trying to make up for her failure but Dio assures her it will come in due time and that she does not need to make up for such a thing.

But she also becomes aware of life outside the mansion. Asking at first to accompany servants during errands which he allows but when she asks to play with other children he tells her that she shouldn't bother with such a thing, those children are beneath her. Those children would bow before them when the time came.

Eventually her stand manifests. The moment it's know, a victim is choosen for her to test her stand on. When the victim isn't harmed Dio is let down, but his initial plans of using her as another servant are far gone.

That's when she goes to the piano, something she was still a novice in but now could play it like a professional.

She is able to figure out she has the power to absorb information and skills from others. Not a powerful stand but a useful one nevertheless. A stand dubbed Gates of Babylon, a physical manifestation of her desire of knowledge.

So it becomes a regular occurrence that Dio will let her use her stand on his victims before he drinks them dry. An odd form of father daughter bonding (of course away from (Y/n)).

Still (Y/n) never quite lost interest in the outside world. One day she manages to sneak out by herself. Of course when he discovers this he's mortified, but hides it the best he can from his servants as he tells them to find her.

Of course she's found and brought back. If she has injury, even just a scrape he'll use it as justification. She's only mortal compared to him. All manner of things could happen to her. The moment that it is just the two of them he scolds her. Even goes on about how vulnerable she is and what compelled her to leave with everything she has.

Everything is a lot more tightly run. Constantly monitored, constantly given more and more things to entertain her. He's also taking more time to spend with her directly.

Telling them always that he's the only one that she should trust 100%, that people will try to harm or take advantage of her. God forbid he brings up his childhood as an example, that he actually acknowledge his prior humanity to another soul.

[jessybarnes]

Forbidden Love

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Word count: Over 5k

Tags: Acromantula, mentions of blood, death of a mythical creature, gore, angst, fluff, smut, bullying, broken bones, hippogriffs, unicorns, fluffy, centaurs, syringes, major character injury, near-death experience, age gap, teacher/18-year-old student relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, begging, forced reveal of feelings, forbidden forest, family drama, and I think that’s it.

Beta: @winecatsandpizza

A/N: This is a repost from one of my old Tumblr accounts. I altered the timeline a little to make this flow better. I realize that Gilderoy lost his memory during the Chamber of Secrets era. I also realize that Severus didn't take on the DADA teaching position until Harry's 6th year. I just wanted to make that clear for everyone. :) Enjoy! 

"Hmm…difficult, very difficult. Mmm yes, lots of ambition and very loyal too. A hint of creativity, but you seem to mask it well with your bravery...”

As the sorting hat’s voice echoed throughout the Great Hall, your mind began to flood with the past week’s events. 

It was the day after your eighteenth birthday when you discovered your Hogwarts letter. Your grandmother had been a great witch and even taught at Hogwarts after she finished her seventh year. From the moment you were born, she knew you were destined for good things. Your parents had forbidden her from using magic around you and even went so far as to hide your letter of acceptance on your eleventh birthday. It wasn’t until you were going through some of your childhood toys in the attic that you came across it. 

The letter was stuck to the back of an old photo album, and the writing had nearly faded completely. You ran your fingers over the yellowing parchment, the tip of your index finger raising slightly as it slid over the sealing wax. You recognized the symbol immediately. Your grandmother had it all over her house, and you’d thought it to be your family’s crest. The wax gave way easily and you pulled the letter out as carefully as you could. Your heart began to race and your breath caught in your throat. The letter was for you! You had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

You blinked and brought yourself back to reality, the hat seemed to be finishing up his assessment.

“...better make it...Slytherin!”

The table full of students to the far right of the hall erupted in cheer as you walked towards them. You took your seat and after the rest of the first years were sorted into their houses, the Headmaster approached the podium. He raised his hands and without saying a word, the whole room went silent. 

“Welcome! Welcome, everyone! It is my great pleasure to start off a new school year with a few minor changes. As many of you know, Gilderoy Lockhart is no longer capable of teaching. It seems a memory charm backfired and he’s lost all memory of who he is. Be that as it may, I am very pleased to announce that our own Severus Snape will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Your eyes scanned the teachers at the head table and stopped when they landed on a man who looked slightly younger than the others. He stood and nodded ever so slightly before taking his seat again. Your gaze lingered on him as Professor Dumbledore continued on with his speech.

“Thus it’s only fitting that the one and only Professor Horace Slughorn takes Severus’ place as Potions teacher.”

Another professor stood up from the table and smiled as a round of applause reverberated off the walls.

“Now that we’ve determined who will be teaching what subject, I have an additional announcement to make. All students will refrain from entering the forbidden forest. Anyone who isn’t experienced enough to handle themselves will most certainly die a very horrible death. Now, without further interruption, let the feast begin!” 

With a wave of his hand, the empty plates filled with a delicious-looking meal. You ate quietly as the other Slytherins talked and carried on. Every so often, you turned to look at the mysterious man with the all-black attire. Mysterious didn’t even begin to describe him. Even though it wasn’t classified as magic, you had always found yourself skilled in reading people.

He looked particularly confident, his shoulder-length, black hair bouncing slightly as he talked amongst the other teachers. There was just something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Was it pain? The very moment you thought the word to yourself, his eyes snapped up to yours. Horrified that you were caught staring, you quickly turned your attention to your plate. Had he read your mind? 

Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you continued eating your meal thinking about the new chapter in your life. Though you didn’t know much about Hogwarts and the world of magic, you did know that this house, in particular, had a bad reputation. Your grandmother was a Ravenclaw, and would sometimes divulge knowledge about the other houses. The one thing you remembered about Slytherin was that its founder believed only certain people should be allowed to attend this school and practice magic.

Purebloods. 

You were the farthest thing from being a pureblood. In fact, you were what other witches and wizards would call a Muggle. That was another thing you learned from your grandma. Muggle was a term used to describe someone who had non-magic blood, or the less liked derogatory name, mud-blood. The fork in your left hand scraped across your plate as you pushed your food around aimlessly.

Why on Earth would the sorting hat put you in Slytherin? 

Soon, dinner was over and the prefects led the students back to their respective common rooms. You followed the other female students to the girl’s dormitory and found your trunk and owl had already been brought in. Nova chirped and tilted her head when she saw you, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Miss me already, sweetheart? Well, I missed you too.”

The soft feathers on her head slid between your fingers while you talked to her. Even though she didn’t talk back, it was always nice to feel like someone was listening. 

You settled on your bed and began drawing in your sketchpad as the other girls in your room talked amongst themselves. Their conversation hardly registered with you, your focus solely on the drawing of Nova you were currently working on. It wasn’t until one of the other girls tapped you on your shoulder that you noticed they were talking to you.

“Hellooo? Were you even listening to us?”

You set your sketch pad next to you on the bed and looked up at the three girls staring at you intently.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to me. I was um … I was focused on my drawing.” 

The girl closest to you rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently.

“I said, why aren’t you eleven like the other first years?”

There it was, the question you knew would be asked eventually. You just didn’t think you’d have to answer it this soon.

“My um… Well, I suppose it’s because my parents hid my acceptance letter from me.”

The one with the blonde hair began to laugh.

“Why that’s absurd. Why anyone would hide a Hogwarts letter from their child is beyond me. Unless… wait… are you, not a pureblood?”

A sudden feeling of shame overtook you and your gaze wandered to your lap, a loose string on your blanket became instantly more interesting.

“I-I… Well, no… I’ve got non-magic parents actually.”

The third girl scoffed.  “Daphne, can you believe they let scum like this into our house?”

Blondie, who you presumed to be Daphne, snatched your sketchbook off the bed and tore it in two, and laughed. “Serves her right. Mud-bloods don’t belong in Slytherin.”

She drew her wand and pushed the tip into the skin of your throat making your whole body quake in fear.

“Listen up you vile little wretch, you’d better not lose us any house points if you value your life at all. Understand?” 

Tears pricked your eyes as you nodded quickly. “Y-Yes… Yes, I-I understand.”

She removed her wand and the two other girls followed close behind as they left the room. Closing your eyes, you took a few deep breaths trying to slow the rapid beating of your heart. A few minutes later, you let out a shaky breath and began to clean up the remnants of your sketch pad. Luckily, this was a brand new one and Daphne hadn’t torn up anything too valuable. 

Once you were finished, you slipped on your shoes and held out your arm to Nova. She chirped happily and sidestepped to your shoulder. Staying in your room anywhere near the other Slytherin girls was the last thing you wanted to do, so you decided to explore the castle grounds a little before bed. After all, it was only Friday night, and classes didn’t start for another two weeks. 

The crisp, fall air licked at your skin the moment you stepped out into the courtyard. It felt good to breathe the fresh air and you suspected that Nova felt the same. She immediately took flight and let out a happy screech. Part of you envied her. Being able to soar as high as the clouds away from all the negativity was something you could only dream of doing. 

You wandered around the castle grounds until you spotted a hut nestled at the edge of a tree line. The stone exterior and the pointed roof reminded you of the fairytales your parents used to read as bedtime stories when you were little. Light grey smoke billowed out of the chimney and you could faintly hear someone humming. Curiosity got the better of you, and you soon found yourself at the foot of the steps. 

Before you could knock, the front door swung open and none other than Hagrid looked down at you.

“Why ‘ello there, lass! Teh what do I owe yeh the pleasure?”

You’d only known him for a few hours, but you could tell that Hagrid had a big heart and good intentions.

“I just needed some fresh air that's all. Things are… a bit much in my house.”

Hagrid studied you as you spoke. It didn’t take a genius to know something was bothering you, and he saw right through the fake smile plastered on your face.

“Why don’t yeh come in fer a spot of tea? I can tell something is troublin’ yeh.” 

It became a sort of routine, the evenings you’d spend with the Hogwarts groundskeeper. After Hagrid had learned the way the other Slytherins were treating you, he’d made it clear that you could spend the night in his spare room any time you needed to. You insisted on paying him for his hospitality, but he always refused. All he had ever asked in return was help taking care of the mythical creatures. Most would probably view it as a chore, but you found it extremely therapeutic. 

Friday evening before school started, you noticed Hagrid was missing from the teacher’s table. After dinner, you jogged along the path to his house and noticed the lights inside his hut were off.

Hmm...that’s weird, you thought to yourself.

Normally, he’d be making a pot of tea right about now. Tentatively, you walked up the steps and lightly knocked on his door.

“Hagrid? Hey, are you home? It’s Y/N…” You tried the door, and it opened easily. “Hagrid? I’m coming in…”

Fang peeked at you over his paw and yawned lazily. Other than the glow of the fire, nothing showed signs that he was home. As quietly as you could you walked to the back towards his bedroom. There, wrapped up in blankets and looking beyond miserable, was the half-giant himself. 

“Oh, Hagrid… what’s the matter? You look like you feel awful.”

He coughed and sneezed a few times before blowing his nose into a hankey. His skin was clammy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“I’m sick, lass. Yeh shouldn’t come near me if ye know what’s good fer ya.”

Out of instinct you put the underside of your wrist against his forehead and grimaced.

“Hagrid, you’re burning up! Come on! We have to get you to Madame Pomfrey.” 

You helped him stand and carefully started to lead him toward the castle. It took nearly fifteen minutes, but finally, you were able to get him to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey motioned to a bed and helped you lay him down. She insisted that she keep him overnight so she could monitor him, but Hagrid was having none of it.

“No! Absolutely not! I can’t stay ‘ere overnight. Who’ll feed Fang an all me other beasts? Buckbeak ain’t the nicest Hippogriff when he’s missed a meal yeh know.” 

Your hand came down to cover his as you looked him in the eyes.

“Hagrid, please...stay here and let Madame Pomfrey take care of you. I’ll take care of feeding them tonight, okay? It’s not like I haven’t helped you make your rounds for the past week and a half.”

The groundskeeper sighed with defeat and nodded.

“Alright Y/N, I’ll stay an let yeh take care o’ my pets, but yeh have ta promise me you’ll be careful.” 

You gave him a soft smile and stood to smooth out your robes. “Don’t worry, Hagrid. I’ll be quick and efficient just like you taught me. I even made myself a list so I remember which animal eats what as well as where they’re all located. I’ve got this!”

Before he could change his mind, you hurried out of the room and back to his hut to grab what you needed. According to the list, you had five different species to feed tonight. The unicorns, Buckbeak the hippogriff, Fluffy the three-headed dog, the centaurs, and Aragog the acromantula.

None of these mythical beasts ever acted like they were harmful, but they weren’t to be taken lightly either. Not to mention you were with Hagrid every time you’d fed them before. After loading up the bags with their food, you made sure you had your wand before approaching the edge of the forest. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, the shadow from the trees always made the forest dark and a thin layer of mist lingered near the forest floor. 

Fluffy was first on your list. His doghouse was about fifty feet within the forest. Brandishing your wand, you cast Lumos Maxima and took the trail to the west. A few minutes later, you could hear light snores echoing off the trees. Making sure you had the three slabs of meat at the ready, you whistled to get the giant beast’s attention. 

"Fluffy! I got you some dinner!"

The dog's left head yawned enthusiastically and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Alright, that's enough sleeping. It's time for some yummy meat!"

The middle head began to growl and bare its teeth at you while the one on the right shook its head back and forth violently.

"There we go, nice and easy…" You slowly got closer and gently set the slabs of meat within his reach before backing off." 

You stuck around long enough to make sure he saw the food and then walked north towards the part of the forest where unicorns made their homes. It surprised you to learn that they preferred witches over wizards. Hagrid had told you that they were very fast, so much so that they could outrun a werewolf. 

Instead of trying to seek them out, he set up feed pails around their homes and filled them with food. As you were filling the pails, you saw a golden blur out of the corner of your eye. It startled you at first, but then you remembered Hagrid telling you that unicorn fouls were gold in color. 

Staying completely still, you waited until it poked its head out from behind the tree.

"Hi, sweetheart. You want some food?"

At the mention of food, the foul whinnied and slowly approached your outstretched hand. It broke your heart that these beautiful creatures were nearly extinct. You gave light scratches to the tufts of fur behind its ears, the serene moment nearly making you forget where you were. 

After hand-feeding the baby for a few minutes, you quickly filled the rest of the pails before heading towards the centaurs. Hagrid always made sure you remembered how proud the centaur breed was. They didn't like to be classified as "beasts" along with thestrals, merfolk, or werewolves. They also ate both human and equine food. 

It was a good thing you remembered to grab both types. You didn't want to upset them at all, let alone do so without Hagrid around to protect you. As you approached their den, a familiar face came to greet you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

Firenze stood tall as he looked down at you, his unwavering gaze making you a bit nervous.

"H-Hey! Sorry, it took me a bit to get here. Hagrid isn't feeling well, and I had to take him to the hospital wing." 

The creature nodded and uncrossed his arms.

"That's quite alright. I see you brought my colony dinner."

You offered a smile and held out two big knapsacks of food. "I did! I wasn't sure what you would prefer so I came bearing a variety of things...I-I hope that's okay."

Firenze chuckled and placed one of his large hands on your shoulder. "That's very kind of you, Y/N. Please give Hagrid my best. I do hope he recovers quickly."

With a nod and a wave, you watched him until he was out of sight. 

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you turned east and walked in the direction of the area Buckbeak frequented. You’d come to love the Hippogriff ever since Hagrid introduced you to him. It only took you about five minutes to navigate the trail before you could hear the excited bleats coming from a group of trees. Making sure to stop the moment you crested the hill, you made eye contact with Buckbeak and bowed low.

The Hippogriff turned and tilted its head momentarily and then bowed in return. You took the dead ferrets out of the bag and tossed them in the air for him to catch. When you ran out he nudged the side of your face and chirped happily.

“Yes, I love you too, Beaky. You’re a good boy!”

Kissing his beak sweetly, you bade him goodnight and walked south toward the heart of the forest. Time to feed the final species on your list.

Aragog.

Even though they were capable of human speech, acromantulas were the one beast you had a fear of. As you approached Aragog’s lair, hundreds of tiny spiders crawled on the ground next to you. Taking a few deep breaths to compose yourself, you crept into the pitch-black den with your senses on high alert. At the heart of it sat the beast himself.

“Who dares to come into my home?”

With a shaky hand, you reached into your bag and quickly pulled out a dead fox as an offering. 

“A-Aragog? It’s um…it’s Y/N, the one who has been coming with Hagrid to feed you. I have umm… I have some birds and foxes for you.”

The large arachnid stalked closer to you, its eyes like black holes as it seemed to stare into your soul.

“Yes… the young fleshy girl who claims to be a friend of Hagrid. Tell me, where is my keeper? What have you done to him?” 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and your fight or flight instincts began to kick in.

“I-I-I didn’t do anything to him. He… he isn’t feeling well and I told him I’d come and bring you dinner…”

You hadn’t realized you were backing up until your heel caught a crooked root poking through the ground. Pain shot through your ankle as you fell against the floor of the den. Aragog clicked his fangs together and you flinched as his voice boomed around you angrily.

“I don’t believe you! I’ve known Hagrid for over fifty years, and not once has he missed a feeding!”

As graceful as your sprained ankle would allow, you scrambled to your feet and dumped the dead birds and foxes on the ground in front of you.

“H-Here’s your food… I… I’m just gonna go…”

The venom from his fangs began to drip on the ground as he moved even closer to you.

“Go? Oh, I don’t think so, friend of Hagrid. Those foxes and birds may sate my son's and daughter's hunger, but they won't satisfy me."

Ignoring the throb in your injured foot, you clambered out of the den as fast as you could. Branches swatted you in the face as you sprinted toward Hagrid's hut. Aragog was hot on your heels as the castle grounds became more and more visible. Just a few more feet and you'd be safe. 

A rotted tree trunk caught your eye, but it was too late for you to avoid it. You hit the ground with a sickening thud, your wrist that broke your fall was surely broken. Turning to face the fastly approaching acromantula, you pleaded for him to stop.

"Aragog, please! ….I...I didn't do anything to Hagrid… please don't hurt me!" 

The giant spider loomed over you, its fangs clicking together violently.

"Goodbye, friend of Hagrid…"

You let out a blood-curdling scream as its pincers tore into your flesh, the moonlight fading away until you slipped into unconsciousness. 

Nights were usually the time Severus took to think. It was his free time, save for the occasional disobedient student wandering the corridors. He'd just walked past the open courtyard when a small owl flew down to land on his shoulder.

"Get off me you insolent bird!"

It let out a screech and circled him before settling on his other arm. 

"Merlin’s beard, what is it that you want?!"

Just as he was about to send it away, he noticed a small charm bracelet attached to the owl's left leg. Curious, he cast Lumos and read the inscription. 

Name: Nova Jane

Property of: Y/F/N Y/L/N

"I see...you're the property of the new Slytherin girl. Go on then! Go back to the dormitory."

Nova nipped at the buttons on his sleeve and screeched loudly. Just as Severus was about to scare it off, your scream echoed throughout the castle grounds.

"Take me to her! Now!"

Nova took flight and soared in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Severus ran as quickly as he could, his robes flowing behind him like a cape. His heart thundered against his chest as he broke through the treeline. 

The moment he saw Hagrid's acromantula towering over you, he drew his wand and aimed for its head.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The spell sent Aragog catapulting backward, its body falling lifeless against the base of a large tree.

Seeing you lying there motionless made his blood run cold.

"Oh, Merlin…no no no..."

He sank down in the mud and put two fingers against your neck, a breath of relief falling from his lips when a faint pulse fluttered against them. His eyes scanned your body, worry prickling his skin at the number of deep cuts you had. He knew you wouldn't survive if he didn't act now. 

With a shaky hand, he pointed his wand to the deep gash in your abdomen.

"Vulnera sanentur…"

A glow illuminated from it and within seconds it was as if the wound never existed. He did the same for the other large wounds as well as your wrist and ankle before lifting you into his arms. He may have stopped the bleeding, but you still had the acromantula's venom flowing freely in your veins. He only had a few minutes to reverse the toxins. 

Closing his eyes, he apparated to his sleeping chambers and gently laid you on his bed. Severus worked quickly to mix up the antivenom. Once it was mixed properly, he used a syringe to inject it into all of your main arteries. 

It became a waiting game. You'd lost a lot of blood, nearly too much, and all Severus could do now was hope you'd wake up. He found himself pacing, checking your pulse every so often to make sure you were still breathing. Eventually, the adrenaline in his body wore off, and it made him realize how tired he was. 

He shed his robe, toed his shoes off, and with a snap of his fingers, a fire began to crackle and pop in the fireplace. He sat and pondered to himself. What was he supposed to do with you? It wasn't like he could take you to Madame Pomfrey now. Not after he'd healed you the best he could. Plus, he was sure the other Hogwarts staff would question him on why he took you back to his chambers. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why he'd done it. He acted on pure instinct. 

His gaze wandered over to where you were laying. Severus felt himself relax upon seeing your chest rise and fall. He'd done it. He'd saved you. His eyes began to get heavy as he listened to your soft breathing. Unable to stay awake any longer, he let sleep consume him. 

The smell of tea filled your nostrils as you tried to recall where you were. Last night's events flooded your mind and your eyes immediately snapped open. 

Scanning the room, your brows furrowed in confusion. This wasn't the hospital wing, and it definitely wasn't Hagrid's. You sat up, your back against the headboard, and scanned your exposed skin. Other than a few bruises, there wasn't any sign of injury on you at all. Had it all been a dream? 

The sound of the door opening brought you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widened at the sight of your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher carrying a teacup and saucer.

"Oh, you're up. Good." He strode over and set the cup down on the nightstand next to you. "Drink this. It'll help you feel better." 

You blinked up at him, your eyes staring into his obsidian ones. Even though he wore a scowl ninety percent of the time, your professor wasn't bad looking. In fact, you found him quite attractive. His form-fitting robes with all those buttons and his confidence drew you in almost immediately. 

It was then that you remembered he'd spoken to you. Forcing your brain to form words, you stuttered out a response.

"I...um…th-thank you, Professor…"

His stone-faced expression didn't waver as he sat down on the comforter next to you.

"Why, Y/N? Why would you put yourself in danger like that?! You could have been killed! Merlin, if it wasn't for your insolent bird, you would have been!" 

You focused on your lap, your cheeks red with shame.

"M'sorry… I was just t-trying to help Hagrid fe-"

You slapped your hand over your mouth and internally cursed yourself. Hagrid made you promise not to tell anyone you were helping him, and here you've almost told none other than Professor Snape! 

"Go on…"

Shaking your head, you moved to get off the bed.

"I… I can't… Thank you for saving me, Professor. I'll just be going…"

His firm hand came to rest on your thigh and with little force, he pushed you back down onto the bed.

"Listen to me, Y/N. I'm your Head of House. Either you tell me what you were doing in that forest, or I'll make you tell me." 

The demand in his tone sent shivers down your spine. It really should be a sin to have a voice like his.

"I-I...um…"

Severus rolled his eyes and stood to walk across the room. He came back with a vial, with a small amount of liquid in the bottom.

"Know what this is?"

You shook your head.

"This is Veritaserum. Three drops of this, and it'll make you spill your darkest...of secrets…" 

You watched as he poured the small amount of liquid into a glass of butterbeer.

"Drink…"

Instead of obeying his orders you grabbed the teacup off the saucer and swallowed its contents.

"Thank you, Professor, but I’m no longer thirsty and I don't like butterbeer." 

For the first time since you arrived at Hogwarts, his lips gave a hint of a smile.

"It's no matter. What do you suppose I did with the rest of the serum, hm?"

All the color drained from your face, your mouth opening and closing like you were a fish out of water. 

"The tea…"

Your professor chuckled, "Yes, the tea. Now, tell me, what were you doing in the Forbidden Forest after curfew?"

You couldn't stop them. It was as if you were possessed. The words came flowing out of you on their own accord.

"I was helping Hagrid feed his mythical creatures. He's in the infirmary sick and I offered to do it so he didn't have to." 

Severus narrowed his eyes. "How long have you been doing this?"

You swallowed thickly. “Since the first day of school. Some of the other Slytherin girls were bullying me so I went for a walk. It was then that I formally met Hagrid. He offered me his spare bedroom, and I’ve been sleeping there ever since…”

He rose to his feet and began pacing again, his hands behind his back. “And he lets you stay...for free?” 

“I can stay as long as I help him tend to the mythical creatures that live in the forest. He taught me everything he knows and I help him with feedings.”

Severus stopped and turned to face you. “Did you ever think of coming to me for help with the bullying? I am the Head of Slytherin you know.” 

Oh, how you wished you could hold back the words threatening to escape. No matter how hard you tried, it was no use.

“I was too nervous to come to you, Professor.”

He raised an eyebrow, his hands fidgeting out in front of him. He knew his presence intimidated most of the children attending Hogwarts, but he decided to use this to his advantage.

“Obviously...And why, do you suppose, I make you so nervous, Y/N?” 

“I suppose it’s because I’m in love with you.”

Your response came out just above a whisper, but he still heard every word. Out of every scenario in his mind, Severus did not expect you, a young woman, to say that. For a rare moment in his life, he was rendered speechless. It took him a moment to collect himself, but once he did he noticed your face was buried in your hands. Merlin, help him, you were crying and it was all his fault. 

He slowly moved to where you were laying and sat down so he was at your level. Without giving it any thought, he pulled you into his chest and began rubbing small circles on your back to soothe you.

“Merlin, what was I thinking? I shouldn’t have forced the truth out of you like that. Please...forgive me.”

You clutched at his robes and moved your tear-filled eyes to his.

“I forgave you the moment it happened, Professor.”

A few silent moments passed between the two of you and he continued to hold your gaze. Severus was the first to move. Ever so slowly, he leaned down to capture your lips. 

His mouth melded with yours perfectly, and he didn’t stop until his lungs demanded it. Your eyes closed, your forehead coming to rest against his.

“Professor I-”

He silenced you with another chaste kiss. “Severus…Call me Severus, Y/N.” 

“Please Severus…make love to me.”

His resolve broke the moment the plea fell from your lips. Severus gently laid you back and gently rid you of your tattered robes. His calloused hands slid over your smooth skin making your breath hitch. He peppered kisses down into the crook of your neck, his path moving to the space between your breasts.

“S-Severus...please…need you…”

He nipped playfully at your jaw and sat up slightly to take his shirt off.

“Patience, Y/N… I’ll take care of you.” 

Once he was bare before you he made his way between your legs. His touch was tentative, his fingertips brushing your folds gingerly. He circled your clit making you arch off the bed.

“Oh, Merlin!... Fuck!”

Severus chuckled and slid two of his fingers inside you curling them upwards.

“Bloody hell, you’re soaked, Y/N…”

He easily found the sensitive spot inside of you, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter with each passing second.

“Please! Oh…shit… Se-Severus! M’gonna cum… please… please make me cum!”

His cock twitched at your words, precum leaking from the tip.

“Let go, Y/N...cum for me…”

With a cry of his name, you fell over the edge. Your chest heaved as you pulled him up for a heated kiss. 

“Need you, Sev. Need you inside me. Please…”

As carefully as he could, Severus lined himself up and pushed into you.

“Merlin, you’re so tight!”

His thrusts were steady and his kisses were fervent as he made love to you.

“Oh, fuck! Sev! Oh, you’re so good… so good, baby…”

Both of you wanted it to last, but it was clear you both needed the release more.

“Y/N, I won’t last much longer like this… you feel amazing...so amazing.”

You slid your fingers through his thick hair and pulled his mouth down to yours. “Cum with me, Severus…” 

A moment later, both of you soared into bliss together. His lips rested against your own and his body shook as he spilled into you, your walls clenching around his cock. Severus was spent as he settled behind you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

“Y/N, I need to know you’re okay with this...with us…”

Threading your fingers with his, you planted a sweet kiss on the back of his hand.

“Severus, our love may be forbidden, but I’d choose you no matter what it cost me. I’ll take you as you are. Your highs, your lows, all of it. I’ll love you until my last breath.”

He turned you in his arms and cupped your cheek.

“I never thought I’d ever love another. Not after Lily, but seeing you in the forest like that sparked something in me. Something I haven’t felt for nearly fourteen years. I’ll spend forever protecting and loving you. 

As your eyes grew heavy, you felt a new sense of worth. Coming to Hogwarts was something you’d only dreamed of growing up. The moment you found your acceptance letter, you knew your life would change. You never thought you’d find someone to love here, but for once you were happy, and that’s all you’d ever wanted.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Desperado (Dom!Mizu x sub!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: Mizu x Black!Fem!Plus-Sized!Reader

Synopsis: When you randomly ask Mizu to help train you to become a stronger fighter, she discovers the reason is that you plan on accompanying her on her journey for revenge. She initially refuses, but after a moment of passion turns into a night of confessed feelings and a goodbye, Mizu begins to change her mind about working alone.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Dom!Mizu/sub!Reader; Reader is Black, Female & Plus-Sized; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Angst; Sad Backstory; Accidental Kiss; Crush Confession; Sneaky Sex; Girl on Girl; Cunnilingus; Nipple Sucking; Gentle FDom!Mizu; Strap-On Sex/Sex w/ Toy; Mutual O; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: A humongous thank you to @curiouscutie143 for her continued trust in me as her writer & her patience with me getting this posted. Halloween is a busy fucking time for a writer bro lmaoo 🤣

But I’m so happy to be getting it all done & posted in time for Halloween! I hope y’all enjoy this commission! This is the first time I’m writing something that isn’t anime-based. I don’t watch Blue Eyed Samurai personally, but I hope those who do enjoy this. -Jazz 🥰

********

“You up for another round, darling? You know I can do this all day.”

Mizu stands on the other side of the dojo, her sword hanging loosely from her hand. To any other opponent, they would take this as a sign of carelessness and try to attack the samurai in this seemingly open position. But you know Mizu. You’ve worked and trained alongside her for several years now since you met Eiji, your master and mentor.

And you know for a fact that Mizu is a highly gifted swordswoman. She never ever has her guard down, and that is why you have her training you now…despite you wanting to tell her off for being too rough.

You groan from your spot on the floor, your body coated in sweat and tingling from the constant blows you’ve been taking for over an hour now. You stand up and readjust your training clothes–a black knee-length kimono and slides. Mizu’s kimono is a deep emerald that brings out the blue of her eyes. Eyes that she has hated for years.

Once you’re finally on your feet, you grip your sword in your palms and point it at your opponent. “I can do this all day,” you utter, and you can. You know you can. Anything to get this insufferable, cocky woman on the floor. Mizu smirks and takes a bow. You do as well, beginning another round of sword fighting.

As soon as you open your eyes and straighten your back, she is coming at you, her sword drawn. With a gasp of surprise, you bring your sword up to block hers, grunting as your forearms ache with the pressure and effort it takes to keep her at bay. “Rule number one, trainee,” she whispers, her blue eyes filled with mirth. “Never ever close your eyes when you bow. That’s a death sentence.”

With another grunt, you take your foot and shove her away by pushing it against her stomach. Mizu falls back, but catches herself with one hand and easily rebalances herself. You step away from her to recover, gripping your sword. “You did that on purpose,” you accuse. She smiles cockily at you. “Well, of course. It is a battle and I’m your opponent.”

Damn her. “Bitch,” you spit. “I’ll make you pay for that.” You charge at her this time and swipe your sword at her, but she easily dodges it and jumps back away from your attack. “So hostile!” she mockingly gasps. “Didn’t Eiji tell you to stop with that kind of talk?” You swipe at her again just as her sword comes up, the steel clanging against each other.

“Eiji ain’t here,” you pant. “And I’ll stop once I get you on the floor.” You rip your sword away and swipe it at her from the left as you take your foot, aiming for her ankles. She dodges this attack as well, suddenly spinning to your right and out of your line of sight. Before you can twist around to stop her, she elbows you in the side. You fall onto your knees, your sword clattering to the floor. Mizu stands above you, panting slightly and her face rosey from the constant moving. “Rule number two: never bite off more than you can chew.”

This is why you can’t stand her. She is just too good. She’s too fast, practically turning into a blur as she dodges attacks at the speed of light. She’s too strong, her body made of steel despite her small body (which is laced with muscle). She’s too smart, sizing up her opponents and playing them like game pieces. She is truly a skilled swordswoman…and unfortunately, this is what makes her damn attractive to you.

As you lay on the floor, you glare up at her. “What, are those the lessons of Master Mizu?” you spit, panting between each word. You place a hand on your side where Mizu’s elbow collided, feeling like it burns any time you inhale. You attempt to get up, but you feel weak, your limbs wobbly.

Mizu looks down upon you with slight worry, noticing that the time it takes you to get off the floor is getting slimmer. “Listen, V,” she begins, but you jut a hand out to stop her. “Don’t even say it,” you growl, stubbornly getting up onto your knees. “I don’t need to rest. I’m not gonna get any stronger by laying on my ass.”

Mizu sighs, frowning. “We’ve been at this for an hour and you have yet to put a scratch on me,” she states, shaking her head at you. “Not to mention all this week.” And she’s right. Since she started training you at the beginning of this week after you begrudgingly asked her for one-on-one training sessions, you have barely made her fumble or falter.

You glare at her, feeling a twist in your gut. “Are you implying that I can’t beat you?” you hiss. “You think just because Eiji’s got a shine to you, you’re all that?”

You watch as your words register across Mizu’s face, causing her forehead to wrinkle in confusion. “What?” she asks before she dodges your attack. Just barely. You used your words as a distraction from your left foot swiping at her ankles just as your sword aimed at her face.

Mizu stumbles but manages to right herself and blocks your sword with one hand in front of her face. You smile, satisfied.“Ha,” you huff. “Gotcha.” The swordswoman’s confused expression softens and she breaks out into a crooked smile. “Not bad,” she comments. “I’ll give you that one. I guess my training is paying off.”

You roll your eyes as she dusts herself off. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff. “You’re a good fighter, I can admit that, but we’ve all got our predecessors.” You watch as she walks over to the corner of the room where she lowers her sword and picks up two cups of water. She walks back over and hands one for you, silent. You take it, ignoring the flip in your stomach when your fingers brush with hers.

“Thanks,” you quietly say. She nods and takes her respective place on the sidelines. As she gulps down her water, she looks out the window at the twilight sky. The horizon is pink, the sun just a thin line. “It’s almost sundown,” she comments. “Only a day left.”

You silently stare at her, sipping your water. You know what she means even if she doesn’t say it: only a day until she leaves for her trip of revenge. “How’d the Master take it when you told him your plan?” you curiously ask. She turns to you, smirking. “Oh, you know, just the usual ‘be careful’ lecture and ‘don’t let revenge guide you’ BS.” She chuckled wryly to herself and your stomach clenches.

“Why?” she asks, smirking at you in the blue-pink light. “Will you miss me?” You look at everything but her and those damn eyes. “Please,” you scoff, averting her gaze. “It’ll be nice to have the dojo and washroom to myself for once.”

She chuckles, the sound deep and smooth. “So I’m curious,” she begins, taking a towel from the floor and tossing it over her shoulders. “How come you asked me to train you all of a sudden? You always seemed pretty adamant about not wanting to train with me before.”

You knew she would ask you this again, so you’ve already come up with a believable reason. You can’t let her know the real reason you asked. “I told you: the Master holds you up on a pedestal and I figured maybe I could take some tips from you about fighting. Why do you seem so shocked?”

Mizu passively shrugs. “Well, we never exactly saw eye to eye,” she wryly chuckles. “It’s been like that for years now—we’ve always kept to ourselves and only came together when ordered to, but now…it’s different.” And she’s right. You’ve always carried this rivalry and tension between each other since your teen years. She knows something is up by the way she cocks her head at you. “Is that really all it is?” she asks. “You just want to get stronger?”

You simmer, not appreciating her tone. “Why are you saying it like that?” you sharply ask. “Like I have some ulterior motive in asking you to help train me?” The swordswoman’s brows raise in surprise at your switch-up. “I never said that…unless you do.”

Fuck. You just gave yourself away. You look away out into the sky, focusing on the setting sun. “V, it’s just me,” Mizu says, her soft voice squeezing your heart. “I’m going to tell the Master anything you don’t want me to.” Finally, you break and slump in defeat. “You really want to know why?” you sigh. You don’t wait for her to say yes. “I’m planning to go with you to kill the four white men.”

The silence that follows is deafening and seems to stretch on forever. You feel your blood pressure rise as anxiety swells around you. “You’re…what?” Mizu finally asks, squinting at you. She scoffs to herself, flabbergasted. “No. No, you’re not. Why would you want to do that, V?”

“Why do you think?” you shook back. “To get revenge on the men that destroyed my home.” Mizu’s face softens in realization. “Wait…they raided your home as well?” You nod, gripping the cup so hard that you believe it will break. It was so long ago, but the wounds are still fresh. The child that lost their home to a burning husk is still inside of you.

“They didn’t kill my mother, nor my father, but we were forced to leave. I had to give up almost everything that gave me happiness that day. My mother never recovered.” You clutch the cup in your hands harder, wanting to chuck it at the nearest wall. “Now I want to take my happiness back and see those motherfuckers dead…and I want to be the one to do it.”

Mizu doesn’t say anything for a long moment, probably processing everything. You never told her any of this as a way to protect yourself. In this life, you can’t get close to anyone, which is why you’ve ignored your attraction to her for so long. “I’m sorry about all of that,” she soberly says. “But I can’t just let you join me on this quest, V. This is for me and me only. I’ve been planning this for months!”

You finally toss the cup aside, fed up. “So what would change?” you ask, scowling at her from across the room. “I’m not trying to steal your thunder, Mizu! But don’t you think it would make more sense to have more help on your journey?”

She pauses, thinking it over for a moment. Then she sighs, pinching her nose. “I can’t allow it,” she says. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go. I need to do this alone. So this is why you asked me to train you? To be strong enough to fight off those men?” She sounds almost angry at the idea. You give a bark of a laugh, shaking your head. “Mizu, you and I both know that you’re the best fighter. You’re strong, fast, and damn cold. If I’m gonna put their bodies in the ground, I need to learn from the best.”

That wrinkle appears in Mizu’s forehead again as her brows furrow at you. “The best?” she repeats. “Is…that what you think? That I’m the best?” You scoff, wiping at your sweaty brow and avert your gaze, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. “Don’t play the humble type. You know that you’re the best. Why else would you be here?”

You turn away from her, facing the wall. You feel small. Weak. Both things that Eiji has tirelessly worked to break since you were a teen…and evidently failed at. “Did you hear what you just said, V?” Mizu asks. “If you weren’t an exceptional fighter, why else would you be here with me?”

At her words and the genuine nature of them, you turn around to face her. She has crossed the threshold of the room and is standing a foot away from you now. “I think that you’re amazing, despite our differences, and me not wanting you to come along on this dangerous journey has nothing to do with our rivalry. You’re still my teammate and Eiji’s fellow student.”

She turns away, her fists clenched and stares at the quickly-darkening sky. “If something happened to you on my watch, it would be my fault. I can’t allow that.” Your heart pounds faster at her confession. It feels almost too intimate to hear. But it only does so much to sway you. “So…what now?” you scoff. “You just leave me high and dry with that? I’m just supposed to stay here because you asked me to?”

Mizu turns to you, her eyes narrowed and her mouth in a thin line. “I’m not asking you, V: I’m telling you. You’re not going with me.”

The stubborn side of you wants you to scream. To fuss. To plead your case and argue until your voice is raw. Months of planning and working up the nerve to go with her has brought you here. But instead of all of that, you do something that neither one of you expects: you cry.

It comes too quickly for you to stop it and you find yourself sobbing right in front of your teammate. Mizu’s eyes widen an inch at the sight and then takes a step forward. “V,” she softly says. You back away from her, vigorously shaking your head. “Don’t,” you demand. “Don’t look at me.”

You cover your wet face as your shoulders shake, unable to stop the tears or the pain of your past from pouring over. You suddenly feel Mizu’s soft hand on your shoulder. “V,” she says again. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head again, refusing her kindness. “I’m not good enough,” you sob. “I need to leave here.”

Mizu snatches your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at her. “No, you don’t. You don’t need to leave. You belong here.” You blink at her, staring deep into her eyes that remind you so much of the oceans surrounding faraway islands that you’ve seen in books.

You don’t know how what happens next happens or who leans in first, but suddenly, her lips are on yours. It is a soft, gentle kiss that steals your breath and silences your sobs, filling you with nothing but warmth. It takes away all the bad thoughts and feelings for the few seconds that it happens. Time freezes and nothing else matters but you and her.

But as just quickly as it happens, it ends. Mizu pulls away and looks absolutely horrified. “I’m…sorry,” she says. “Goddammit, why did I do that?” She turns away, covering her mouth in shock. “I need to go.”

Quickly, she moves to gather her word and exit the dojo, her footsteps quick and brisk. “Wait,” you say, but it’s quiet and barely above a whisper. She leaves you standing there alone, letting the door to the dojo close with a deafening slam.

***********

That night is a warm one. Cicadas buzz outside your bedroom window which is wide open, letting the summer air waft in.

Only one lone candle that you pick up by its handle burns brightly on your bedside. Your bedroom, dimly lit by the flickering flame of the candle, is cast in shadows, one of which is you. It stretches and wavers against the walls as you tip-toe out of your room, pushing aside the paper door to enter into the narrow hallway.

Eiji’s bed chambers are situated on the other side of the home, but you still walk carefully and gingerly. The man is known for having ears like a goddamn hawk.

Your shadow follows you against the wall as you creep down the hallway to one bedroom that is always kept closed in the night. You feel you heart pound with every step you take, your mind telling you to turn around and walk back. To not go down this road. Not to get involved with whateve​​r started during training.

You tried to deny the way your body sung once Mizu’s lips left yours. You tried to tell yourself that it was just a slip; a heat of the moment in such a passionate moment. Mizu was only comforting you and got caught up. She had been no more than a ghost since then, keeping to herself and only speaking when spoken to at dinner with Eiji.

You found yourself wanting to steal glances of her, talk to her behind closed doors. Things you wouldn’t have dared to have imagined or thought about before the kiss. You had forbidden yourself from ever getting close like that to anyone since you ventured down the road of becoming a samurai fighter.

But now? You couldn’t think about anything but Mizu’s lips on yours or the fresh scent of cotton from her clothes. You couldn’t even sleep, which has led you to creeping into her bedroom like a damn stalker. When you enter her bedroom, it is dark, hued in a dark blue from the night sky outside of her bedroom window.

She sleeps on a cot with nothing more but a sheet thrown across her tall, lean frame. You almost feel bad about waking her. All it takes it for you to close the door with a soft click for her to stir awake. With an exhale of breath, Mizu instantly grabs her sword from beside her and points it at you, her blue eyes predatory slits.

“It’s me, it’s me!” You whisper, putting your hands up in defense. As her eyes adjust to the sight of you in the darkness, she slowly lowers her sword, her brows furrowed. “V?” She groggily asks. Her voice sounds unfortunately attractive when it’s thick with sleep. “What are you doing in here?” She questions. “What’s wrong?”

You swallow thickly, your feet frozen. You aren’t sure how to start this. You’ve never done something like this before, especially something so forbidden for a samurai. They don’t love. They don’t touch. They don’t even think about perversions. But since Mizu’s kiss, you need something, especially something to wipe away the pain and self loathing.

So you lower the candle on the table where a glass of water sits and gently sit down next to Mizu, your feet tucked underneath your body. She stares at you, alarmed. “Wha—“

“Don’t talk,” you interrupt. “Just listen before I lose my nerve. Look, I know that what happened earlier today was a mistake, but we’d both be lying if we said we didn’t enjoy it, right?” You watch Mizu for a reaction, your heart pummeling against your rib cage. Slowly, she nods, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Right…so why not continue it?”

The samurai’s brows furrow in confusion. “Wait…so you came in here to ask about us kissing?” She carefully asks. You can feel yourself becoming hot in your satin slip and you swallow the lump in your throat before continuing. “Not just kissing,” you softly reply. “More than that.”

Mizu is silent for a moment, processing your cryptic words. “You mean…bedding you?” She asks, her brows raising. “V, you know we don’t do that.”

You flush with shame, huffing. “Obviously, I know that or I wouldn’t be coming to you in secret!” you hiss. “But what happened during that kiss set us both back. The last thing we need to do is to lose any kind of focus on what we need to do…so why not do something about it now?”

You patiently wait for Mizu’s response, feeling like a shaking leaf in the cold autumn air. The last thing you need to hear is a no, which is the worst case scenario, but if she does, you’ll tuck your tail between your thick legs and try to forget this ever happened. You’ll even pack your things and leave. You’ve already planned where to go once you pack your things and—

“Okay,” Mizu says. You nearly get whiplash turning to look at her. “I’m sorry, what?” You ask. The whole room has suddenly gotten hotter and the walls have begun to close in.

She sits there, looking absolutely normal and unbothered despite agreeing to sex with you, her rival. “I said okay,” she repeats, but then puts up a finger. “But I have rules. “If we are going to do this, we need to do it in a safe, secure, and quiet manner.” Her face is stern as if she won’t take no for an answer.

You briefly wonder if she has ever done this before, but you figure now is not the time to ask that. So you nod and patiently wait for her ground rules. It’s the least you can do for her agreeing to this. “Number one: we give each other consent for everything, even if it’s touching somewhere we may enjoy.” You nod, agreeing. You need to get to know her and vice versa, so asking and giving consent is 100% needed.

“Number two: we respect each others’ no for anything.” Once again, you agree with a nod.

“Number three: keep it down so Eiji doesn’t hear us. It’s bad enough we’re even doing this in his home.” Mizu gives you a knowing look that makes you want to argue, but you keep your mouth buttoned tight.

“And number four: after we finish, we never speak of this again. I don’t know if you’ll see me again, but if you do, we won’t speak of this at all. Understood?” Mizu fixes you with a firm stare, her blue eyes piercing into yours.

“What if I forget all of these?” You ask, ever the stubborn one. Mizu just rolls her eyes, even laughing a bit. “You’re not. It’s only four, V; you’re not dumb.” She leans back against her pillow, her sleep shirt unbuttoned slightly to reveal her collarbone and the dip of her cleavage. “Now are we gonna do this or not?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

This doesn’t turn you off or make you nervous though. If anything, it makes you hungry to give in to the challenge. So you slowly move closer to the samurai, lock eyes with hers, and slowly lean in to give her time to move away if she rethinks this. She doesn’t. Her eyes flicker down to your lips and then close when they finally meet yours.

They are soft and warm, just as they were hours before when you shared your first kiss. You can’t help but softly moan at the contact and cringe when Mizu chuckles against your lips. You can tell she enjoys it too by the way she gently cups your cheek, holding your face still as you kiss her with bated breath. Your slow, tentative movements soon grow eager as you get to know each other’s mouths, your tongues soon swirling with one another and soft moans traveling from one mouth to the other.

Somehow that leads to Mizu bringing you closer by your waist and sitting you on top of her lap. She does it slowly, giving you a chance to push her away or tell her no, but you don’t. You won’t admit it to her, but it feels good to be in her arms, her capable hands on your waist. “Is this okay?” She breathlessly whispers, her blue eyes peering up at you.

Wordlessly, you nod and continue kissing, your arms wrapped around her neck and hers around your waist. You never thought you’d ever be this close to her and now here you are, feeling her skin under your fingertips and her muscled body against your softer, plumper one. Her fingers run down your back to hold your ass, gripping harder when you moan into her mouth.

Your hips instinctively grind against hers, emitting a soft hum from her that instantly travels to your pussy. It throbs impatiently in your panties, sliding across Mizu’s linen sleep pants. The fabric adds immense friction which causes immense pleasure. “If I didn’t know any better,” she whispers against your lips. “I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

Instead of answering, you pitifully whimper, causing Mizu to lightly laugh. She steals another kiss, lingering just on your bottom lip and gently pulling it between her teeth. The tiny act makes you gush, your cunt like a goddamn lake. When will this woman just take off your clothes and fuck you?

As if hearing your mind, Mizu pulls away to stare at you, her eyes hooded and filled with lust. “I want to lie you down, take off all of your clothes, and spread your legs,” she whispers. “Is that okay?” Your mind slowly processes her words, but the entire world seems to be moving too quickly to keep up. You find yourself squeaking out a “yes” to which she takes as confirmation.

With all of the quickness of the speed of light, Mizu flips you onto your back underneath her. She gives you time to catch your breath after the world spins around you before sliding her hands up your night slip. You move your hips up to give her space to pull it up your waist and then lean up to let her take it off of you. Once you’re semi-naked in your panties, she stops and silently stares you down for a moment.

She sits above you, her blue eyes roaming over your brown skin, soft tummy and thighs, and heavy breasts with embarrassingly hard nipples. “What?” You sharply ask, embarrassed by her look. You’ve never been naked in front of anyone but your parents as a child and yourself. You go to cover your tits, but Mizu stops you, taking your hands in hers. “Don’t,” she softly demands. “You…have a beautiful body.”

Pink colors the porcelain skin of her cheeks, noticeable even in the dimly-lit bedroom. You instantly shiver at her words, suddenly feeling beautiful in the candlelight. You watch hungrily as she unbuttons her sleep shirt, revealing her own naked, smaller breasts underneath. “Don’t want to ruin it,” she says, tossing the shirt away.

You ogle at her chest, salivating at the sight of her hard, pink nipples. You don’t get a chance to do it for long because Mizu’s lips are suddenly tracing across every inch of your body. Your stomach. Your sides. Your waist. Your neck. Your breasts. Your thighs. Her kisses leave delicious shivers and trails of fire in their wake that make you shudder and quietly moan, keeping yourself as quiet as you can.

Finally, Mizu moves down to the promise land and gently spreads your thighs apart. She loops her fingers between the waistband of your panties, but pauses, looking at you. You give her a nod for her to continue and she does, slowly dragging the thin, damp article of cloth down your quivering thighs to reveal your puffy, sobbing wet cunt to her.

You briefly wonder if she’s ever seen another woman’s pussy with the way she stares at yours. Like it’s a treasure. Like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. You almost laugh at her reaction until she begins littering your lips in soft kisses. You hum in pleasure, small bolts of electricity shooting through you with every kiss she makes on your clit. When she uses the two pads of her index and middle fingers to rub the needy button, you have to cover your mouth to avoid moaning any louder than you are.

“Is this okay?” She asks, looking up at you through the V of your thighs. You nod, biting your lower lip. “Yes,” you breathlessly reply. “Do it harder.” She smirks and does as you request, applying a bit of pressure to your clit as she rubs it in small semi-circles.

You grip the sheet below you, needing to hold onto something. You don’t realize how much you’ll need something to grip until later after Mizu holds your gaze with hers. “I want to taste you,” she whispers, her gaze intense and lust-filled. “Tell me that it’s okay. I won’t do it until you say it, V.”

Your arousal wipes away the embarrassment at the fact that your rival is about to put their mouth on your pussy. “Yes,” you nearly beg. “Please just do it, Mizu.” Your answer pleases the samurai and before you know it, her luscious lips are puckering against your pussy while her tongue explores you.

You once again wonder if she’s ever had experience with a woman’s pussy other than yours before. Because the way she licks your cunt and swallows you like you’re her last meal for a while is nothing short of a skill. You’ve never felt such pleasure before. It makes you writhe and do your very damndest to hold your voice back. When Mizu does ‘a thing’ where she rolls her tongue along the underside of your clit, you nearly snap your back in half arching up into her mouth. “Like that!” You gasp. “Do that again!”

You feel Mizu smile against your clit as she fulfills your request, still rubbing your clit as she does so. Your hands fall down to toy with your breasts, but she stops you, placing one firm hand on your wrist. She peeks up at you through the valley of your thighs almost predatory-like. “Don’t,” she orders. “Keep them above your head. Don’t move an inch.”

Her firm voice renders you speechless. With the pleasure she is giving you, you’re willing to do anything she wants. You place your hands above your head as she uses one hand to switch between both nipples, gently tweaking and pinching them as she sloppily eats at your cunt. You see stars and you feel like you’re soaring. All of the bad thoughts are wiped clean. All you can think about is cumming. “Shit!” You whine, your words soft whimpers. “Please, please!”

Mizu gazes at you as she laps at your pussy. “Please what, baby?” She coos. “You want me to make you cum?” You frantically nod, delirious from the place. “Hold out for just a little bit longer. You’ll cum when I tell you to, right?” Once again, you nod and do as she says, holding on despite the urge to cum growing and growing inside of you.

When Mizu finally sinks her finger inside of you and curls upward, that is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. She must sense it because her movements grow faster, her finger stroking you at a quick pace that makes your hips lift and grind against her palm. “Go ahead, baby,” she softly growls. “Cum for me. Cum all over me.”

And you do. Your orgasm is so intense that you have to cover your mouth as you cum, your loud moans muffled by your palm. You release all over Mizu’s hand and greedy tongue that helps you through your orgasm, licking you clean of every ounce of your cream. It’s an orgasm that is the closest to heaven you will ever be.

Finally, it fades and your body suffers from the aftershocks, your entire being shaking and quaking under Mizu’s touch. “God!” You gasp, tossing your hand off of your mouth to grip something. Anything. Your hand falls onto the dresser drawer beside you, but you mindlessly pull too hard and the drawer comes out.

“Oh, shit!” You hiss, thinking that you’re done for, but Mizu once again astounds you when she races to catch the falling drawer. The silence that follows is deafening as you both process what just happened and what could’ve happened. “I’m sorry,” you breathlessly whisper, still recovering from your orgasm.

“It’s fine,” she replies. “It was an accident.” Then both of your eyes tick down to the item that wasn’t so lucky to have been caught by her sitting on the cot. You squint at the strange device, nothing how it curves upward and is shaped just like a….oh.

“Is that a penis?!” You hiss, pointing at the thing. It is black, silicon, and about 5-6 inches give or take. Mizu clears her throat, fixing the drawer and pushing it back in its place. “A strap-on, actually,” she corrects you. “But yes, it’s a sex toy. I had it for myself.” You gape at her, stunned to silence. “I need pleasure too,” she says with a passive shrug. “And yes, I’ve used it on someone before, but that was a long time ago.”

She seems so nonchalant about the fact that she just owns a fake dick, but the idea of her using it on herself turns you on more than you’d like to admit. “Does it feel…nice?” You carefully ask. Mizu pauses, taking a moment to ponder this. “To me, yes, especially with this.” She fishes a glass bottle of lube wrapped in cloth out of her drawer. “My partner for the night thought so too…why?”

She stares at you intensely, the flames dancing in her eyes from the candle making a fire burn within you. Shyly, you stare down at the strap-on, averting your eyes from hers. “I want to try it,” you blurt. The samurai is silent for a moment before she starts quietly laughing. “You must be desperate,” she chuckles.

You cluck your tongue against the roof of your mouth and smack her arm. “I’m just kidding,” she says, putting her hands up in defense. Her eyes twinkle with mirth and lust. “Alright, but I want to try something with you first. Lay back for me.”

You don’t know what she wants to try, but you’d be lying if you said you aren’t eager to find out. If it’s anything like that skillful pussy-eating, you’re in for a treat! You lay back on the cot and she coaxes you to open your legs still sticky and wet with her saliva and your cum from your last orgasm. She then applies some lube to her fingers, filling the air with the scent of coconut and aloe Vera. “This will be cold when I apply it. It warms up to body temperature once you apply it.”

You nod and stay quiet as she moves towards you. Once her fingertips touch your pussy lips, you softly gasp at the cool liquid. But quickly, it warms and makes your skin feel slightly tingly. “That’s it,” she softly coos as your body relaxes. She slowly applies some inside of you, relishing your soft moans and hums of pleasure as her fingers curl upward to caress your clit.

Once finished, she slips them out of you and sucks on her digits, locking eyes with yours. It’s one of the most erotic things you’ve ever seen and it makes your cunt throb in need for her again. “Better now?” You nod, feeling tingly. Now finished with you, she takes off her pants along with her underwear, revealing her pale, muscular thighs, firm ass, and mound coated in a tiny tuft of black hair.

“Here.” She passes you the bottle despite your stunned expression at seeing all of her. “I want you to touch me too.” After showing you where to touch her and instructing you how to do so, you take two fingers and gently run the lubrication over her delicate, wet cunt. You relish the sighs and soft moans she makes, loving that it’s you making her feel like this.

Once you’re finished, she hovers over you and presses your lips to yours in a heated kiss. She then pulls away and looks down at you, her eyes like twin oceans flickering in the candlelight. “I want to grind myself against you,” she murmurs. “Can I do that?” You’d be an idiot to refuse this. “Yes,” you whisper. “Go ahead.”

Spreading your legs wide for her, Mizu places herself between your thighs and angles her hips so her cunt is directly against yours. Keeping her eyes on you, she begins to rock her hips against you, causing you both to gasp in the candlelight and the silvery moonlight pouring through the bedroom window. Her clit slides against yours with ease thanks to the lube, causing an almost agonizing pleasure that has your body clenching and your hands gripping her ass.

“Does it feel good, baby?” Mizu whispers to you, a teasing tilt in her voice. You can only helplessly moan in response, making her chuckle. “You know, you’re really cute like this. I’m starting to think you were always so catty was only because you wanted me to fuck you.”

You whimper, wanting to defend yourself from her raunchy taunt, but the blinding pleasure stops. You can’t think about anything but her body and her slick cunt against yours, the skin to skin contact making it hard to focus or rationalize. It doesn’t take long for the urge to cum to rise again, that knot in your core tightening. “I’m gonna cum,” you whisper. “Y-You’re gonna make me cum!”

Mizu hums in encouragement, rolling her hips at a faster pace. “Go ahead then,” she whispers, her breath coming out in short puffs. “Cum for me, love. I’m right there too.” You shake your head, stopping her by firmly grabbing her hips. “I want the strap,” you plead. “I want you to fuck me again.”

Mizu pauses, stunned by your begging…and then a slow smile crosses her face. “Okay then,” she replies, humored. “But if you don’t like it, tell me, okay?” You nod and she pecks you on the cheek before grabbing the strap-on. You watch her strap it onto her waist and place it right below her pelvis so it looks as if she really has a dick.

You never thought this would be so hot to you, but it is. It’s a sight good enough to cum too. She then hikes your legs over her waist and, finally, slowly slides inside of you. She does so inch by inch, paying close attention to your body. The orgasm and lube help too, allowing her to grind against you as she slides in. You gasp at the new sensation, feeling stretched but not painfully so.

Your hands immediately grab her waist as she begins to rock against you, rubbing your clit against her pelvis while the underside of the strap-on stimulates her clit. You look at her face, flushed with pleasure, and suddenly, the urge to cum rises again. You want her to cum too. You want this night to be special; one that neither one of you will forget no matter what happens.

“Fuck me, Mizu,” you quietly beg. “Do whatever you want to me.”

All of your walls of pride and protection crumble around her fake cock and hands that grip your waist and toy with your tits. As if igniting a fire inside of her, Mizu begins to rock harder and faster against you, fucking you into the floor with the strap-on. Your shadows flash against the walls in the orangey candlelight, becoming one.

Mizu takes your arms and places them above your head as she settles between your legs, pushing herself deeper. She practically lays on top of you, her breasts pressed against yours to add to the friction. “I’m really gonna miss you, you know that?” She pants, still pistoning her hips. “You’re being so good for me, V. It’s so hard to leave you.”

You feel tears begin to burn in your eyes. You can’t decide if it’s from her words or from the immense pleasure you’re feeling as she bumps against you. Either way, the sex becomes even more intense and soon, you can’t control your body. You wrap your legs around her waist and bring her closer, muffling your moans into her shoulder. She does the same, digging her face into your neck as she gasps and moans.

After a few more intense thrusts, Mizu finally cums, letting out a moan of your name. It causes your orgasm to trigger and your pussy clenches around the strap as you cum with a long moan of release. Like a balloon popping, all of the negative energy and thoughts built inside of you is released in a rush as you climax, your body shaking and writhing underneath Mizu’s. Her hips continue to roll against you, taking you both through your orgasm, until your highs fade.

Your head is blank, your body is tired, and you feel like you’re walking through a cloud of fog as Mizu pulls out and rolls beside you. You feel dazed, but good. Better than you have in months. For a while, you both just lay side by side, silently staring at the ceiling as the candle continues to melt down to just the matchstick. The scent of candle wax and sex is thick in the air, somehow lulling you to sleep.

You don’t remember much before sleep catches up to you, but you do know you turn to Mizu and softly whisper, “Thank you”. A hand then moved to grab yours, holding it between the space of your bodies. “You’re welcome,” Mizu whispers back.

When you awaken, it is barely dawn. The sky is still dark and the candle is done for, plunging you in complete darkness. Beside you, Mizu is gone from her spot. Your heart picks up speed and anxiety makes you feel frazzled as you sit up, still naked beneath her sheet.

But all of that subsides when you find her sitting at the bottom of the cot, dressed and just sliding her sword into the sheath on her back. She turns when she sees you sitting there and smiles. “Good morning,” she gently says. “It’s nearly dawn. I fixed you breakfast so you wouldn’t be hungry before we leave.”

She passes a bowl of rice, poached eggs, and pickled plums to you, but you don’t touch it. Your mind scratches like a record player on one word she said. “We?” You parrot, confused. “What do you mean? Aren’t you leaving soon?”

Mizu nods, looking guilty for even thinking this. “Yes, but I realized what I’d be leaving behind if I did go alone…so I want you to come with me.” A light blush once again coats her face despite her appearance. To the outside world, she will be a man.

"If you’re ready for that,” she adds. “I promise I’ll protect you as much as I can, V, but you have to be prepared for any kind of danger. It was wrong for me to try and stop you from what you feel is your destiny too.”

She covers your knee with her hand, sending tendrils of warmth throughout your body. “So are you coming?” Are you coming? You’d have to be the village idiot to say no. You smile, unable stop it. “Hell yes.”

Mizu smiles too, looking so much like the woman you care about and not the hardened samurai the world will view her as. “Then eat up. We head out before the sun rises.”

And so you eat, knowing that in a few hours, you’ll be on the journey of a lifetime with a partner you wouldn't give up for the world.

THE END.

[chvoswxtch]

we got a problem

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you discover a shocking revelation about who's behind the defenders of freedom.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns & violence

word count: 4k

a/n: this chapter is a little on the shorter side, but it does contain a huge bombshell. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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If someone had told you six months ago that you would be going shopping with Frank Castle, you would’ve done more than laugh maniacally; you would’ve recommended that they get a psychological evaluation. Hell, even seventy-two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed it. But here you were, in the women’s section, sifting through hangers and stacks of clothing with Frank following you closer than your own shadow, listening to his quiet grunts of irreverence and faint hums of approval when your fingers wandered over different items.

“I don’t get what the big deal is ‘bout this place. It’s just a store.”

All at once, your palm paused over a dark blue pair of jeans, and you looked up at Frank in a mock expression of horror while clutching your hand over your chest. 

“Target isn’t just a store, Frank. It’s a way of life. And we happen to be in a Super Target, which means not only do they have literally everything you could ever want, but there’s a built-in makeup store and a Starbucks.”

Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation and grumbled under his breath as he lifted the white grande cup up on cue, which looked comically tiny in his large hand, and brought it up to his lips to take a sip of the black coffee he had gotten.

“Yeah, don’t remind me I paid seven fuckin’ dollars for one goddamn cup of coffee.”

“Technically you paid eighteen because you were kind enough to buy my iced latte.”

“Is it even still a latte when you ask for fifteen extra fuckin’ shots of espresso?”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you arched one of your brows and placed your hands on your hips while looking up at Frank. 

“I asked for two extra shots-“

“When it already came with four-“

“I don’t need to explain my caffeine intake to you. Now, if you’re finished with your interrogation, can you tell me how long we plan to be on the run for?”

A slight crease nestled between Frank’s brows while his features twisted into a look of incomprehension. Shoving one of his large hands into his jean pocket, he pursed his lips slightly in conjunction with shrugging his broad shoulders.

“However long it takes to figure out who’s behind this shit.”

“And…exactly how many outfits and tubes of toothpaste does that translate into?”

“Just get whatever ya want.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath before crossing your arms over your chest and staring up at Frank. 

“I don’t know how much you think journalists make, but I can’t exactly-“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’m buyin’.”

Those words were certainly not what you were expecting to come from Frank’s mouth, and the shock was evident on your features. While you stared up at him, completely stunned, Frank gave a light shake of his head with a miniscule charming smile and took another sip of his coffee.

“You can’t use any of your credit cards. They could be trackin’ your bank accounts to figure out where you are.”

“I could pull out-“

“You use an ATM to get cash, they’ll know which one you pulled it from, and that gives ‘em a location. As far as they know, you’re dead somewhere. The longer they think that, the more time we got to figure this shit out.”

“Frank-“

“Just put the goddamn stuff in the cart, and finish your liquid heart attack. We got shit to do.”

Realizing that Frank was serious about his offer, a part of you felt guilty for all the items currently in your cart. You weren’t high maintenance by any means-okay maybe a little, but a girl has needs. You couldn’t get by with three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a three in one bath product like Frank could. 

On the other hand, you were curious to see exactly how much you could get away with, and the urge to press his buttons was oh so tempting. A devious grin stretched slowly across your lips, and Frank narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion when he noticed the mischievous twinkle in your gaze.

“Well, if you insist.”

Dropping the jeans into the cart with a satisfied smirk, you pushed the cart over towards the makeup section in the middle of the store and could hear a disgruntled Frank muttering an ‘aw hell’ under his breath as he followed right behind you, much to your amusement, which caused laughter to bubble up from your chest. 

Shopping with Frank was your new favorite activity.

»»———　　———««

“How them sheets feel?”

A faint smirk curled at the edge of your mouth as you glanced at Frank over your shoulder from where you were laying on your stomach on one of the comfortable beds. He had managed to find a decent hotel outside the city, and got a room with two beds much to your disappointment, but anything was an upgrade compared to the seedy motel the two of you had camped out in the previous night.

“Like clouds.”

Frank raised one of his dark brows in silent amusement while looking over at you from his spot at the desk by the window. He let out a quiet grunt in response before his features morphed back in pure concentration while he averted his gaze back down to the gun he was currently cleaning. For a moment you completely forgot what you were doing and just watched him, completely mesmerized. His large hands moved methodically, but so fluidly as he cleaned each piece and re-assembled the weapon, like it was second nature and something he could probably do with ease in his sleep. The way his fingers were gliding over the pieces had your mind suddenly wandering to what else Frank’s hands might be good at. 

“Find anythin’ yet?”

Frank’s gruff voice tore you out of your impure thoughts, and your cheeks burned with heat realizing you had spent the past three minutes gawking at him. Clearing your throat, you turned your attention back to the documents in front of you, willing the black and white text to come back into focus as you found the paragraph you had left off on.

“Um…it seems like all the permits and the deed for the land are registered to a company called Fortis Allied. I can’t find a name attached to it, but all the paperwork is fairly recent. Everything looks like it was filed within the last year.”

“You say fortis? Like f-o-r-t-i-s?”

“Does that ring a bell for you?”

“It’s Latin.”

Scrunching up your brows, you turned your head to look at Frank again in a mixture of puzzlement and surprise.

“You know Latin?”

Frank had leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, his legs spread slightly making his lap look like an extremely comfortable and inviting seat. He held onto the handle of the gun in one hand and the rag he had been using to clean the pieces in the other, his dark brows knit as he stared over at you with his eyes squinted slightly in curiosity, like he was deep in thought about something.

“Marines’ got a motto, Semper Fidelis. It’s Latin, means always faithful. Navy’s got one kinda similar; Semper Fortis.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek as he let out a dry and humorless scoff that only fueled your confusion further.

“And why is that funny?”

“Cause it means always courageous. And if these are the assholes we think they are, that’s pretty goddamn ironic.”

Staring down at the slew of papers spread on the bed in front before you, Frank’s Latin lesson presented more questions than it answered, and your lips pursed slightly.

“Defenders of Freedom and Courageous Allied. Their creativity is astounding.”

Frank snickered quietly behind you hearing the dry sarcasm seeping from your voice. Letting out a sigh of frustration, you reached for your phone that was charging on the nightstand. It had been dead for the past seventy-two hours, and as soon as it turned on, you had an overwhelming amount of missed calls and texts from people who thought you were either missing or dead, or both. About eighty percent of the missed calls and frantic voicemails were from Ellison, but to your surprise, there were quite a few missed calls and texts from Billy as well.

You had made sure to turn off your location so that your phone couldn’t be tracked, and Frank had been adamant about you shutting off your imessage. Deciding you had raised your boss’ blood pressure enough for three days, you sat up cross legged on the bed and grabbed one of the paper’s from the bed that had all the company’s information on it.

“I’m gonna call Ellison and see-”

“No.”

Looking over at Frank in surprise, you let out a quiet scoff of incredulity. 

“Frank, I have to tell him I’m alive. And he can help us-”

“The less people know you’re alive right now, the better. I told you, we can’t trust nobody right now.”

Dragging your palm down your face slowly in irritation, you shook your head in a show of defiance.

“I’m pretty sure my boss isn’t one of the people trying to kill me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes Frank, I do. Ellison is practically the closest thing to family I have in this city, and considering that his best friend, and my mentor, was murdered by Wilson Fisk, I can say with absolute certainty that he is not involved in this shit.”

Frank’s hardened features softened slightly hearing the slight twinge of grief that resonated in your tone, and he was looking at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes of his that normally made your knees weak. But right now that infatuating sight was no match for the heaviness of guilt that filled your entire rib cage like raw cement every time you thought about Ben. 

You swallowed the pebble that threatened to swell into a boulder in your throat and stared down at your phone screen, your thumb hovering over Ellison’s contact.

“Fisk was never charged with murder.”

Frank’s voice sounded almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying that, but it was clear he was looking for an explanation behind your accusation, even though he wasn’t outright asking. It was almost eerie how he always seemed to know when to explicitly ask you something, and when to craft an open invitation to let you come to him.

“Ben was writing a story about him. He was going to expose him for who he really was. He got too close, and Fisk killed him for it. He broke into his home and strangled him to death, but he didn’t leave any fingerprints or evidence, and his hard drive was wiped clean. Ben’s d-his case is still considered an unsolved homicide.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frank slowly stand up from the chair he was sitting in. He tentatively took a few steps towards you and sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, his eyes searching your avoidant gaze.

“What makes you so sure that’s what happened though?”

“Because I pushed him into doing the story.”

The way your voice slightly broke off towards the end of your sentence broke Frank’s heart. The remorse you felt was evident as it rose along your waterline.

“He didn’t wanna do the story. He told me to let it go, and I didn’t. If I had just left it alone-”

Frank wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer towards him, cradling your head against his chest as he held you close and kept his voice soft.

“Hey, hey…don’t do that. Don’t put that on yourself. Whatever happened, it ain’t your fault, you got that? Don’t take the blame for somethin’ that someone else did. He did the story cause he knew you were right, yeah? He believed in you, sweetheart. And that piece of shit Fisk is rottin’ in prison where he belongs, gettin’ exactly what he’s got comin’ to ‘em, trust me.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as he slowly carded his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. 

“I just feel like it’s all my fault. Like I…I could’ve prevented it.”

For a moment Frank was silent. Eventually he let out a heavy exhale through his large nose and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

The deafted way he spoke those two words made it sound like Frank was telling you that he knew exactly what you were feeling, and an ominous thought crossed your mind as you found yourself wondering if he felt that way about his wife’s death. 

He let go of your head and reached into his pocket, pulling out the burner phone that he used. Frank handed the flip phone to you, and you lifted your head to stare up at him curiously. 

“Let ‘em know you’re alright, but make sure he knows it’s important no one else knows nothin’ ‘bout you, yeah?”

“You can trust him, Frank. He’ll help us.”

»»———　　———««

Forty five minutes later, you managed to calm an absolutely hysterical and pissed off Ellison, changed his mind about firing you once you were no longer considered missing/dead, and caught him up on everything that had happened since the night you were attacked three days ago. He agreed to help you and Frank do some digging into the company listed on the permits for the warehouse that burnt down, and in addition to emailing you everything he could find about the company, he also sent you copies of the reports on the two men that had attacked you.

“You were right.”

Frank’s head instantly snapped over in your direction, and his thick brows rose up his forehead slightly in bewilderment.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Cavella and Walker were in the Navy.”

Holding out your phone for Frank to see, you showed him the article you were currently reading on your phone that had a picture of the two men in their Naval uniform. Frank seemed to completely ignore your comment and was looking at you instead of the screen.

“You mind repeatin’ that?”

“I said Cav-”

“Nah, what you said before that ‘bout me bein’ right.”

As you caught the delighted smirk that tugged at the edge of Frank’s mouth, you rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head with a soft laugh, returning your attention to the article.

“Shut up, I tell you when you’re right.”

“Yeah, only after I gotta fix that bratty attitude of yours. The other ninety nine percent of the time, you gotta fight with me ‘bout every goddamn little thing.”

“Don’t be so fun to argue with, and I’ll stop.”

Lighty shrugging your shoulders with a faint mischievous grin on your lips, Frank shook his head and let out a dry scoff in response.

“Ya’know, you remind me of another hot-headed smartass I know.”

“Your other favorite person?”

“He’s the fuckin’ Devil, and a goddamn pain in my ass. Hell of a lawyer, though. You oughta think ‘bout switchin’ professions and arguin’ for a livin’. Think you could give even him a run for his money.”

For some reason that made you laugh loudly. The kind of carefree laugh where you throw your head back like a little kid, eyes crinkling, stomach aching with pure joy. Frank was the first person to make you laugh like that in a long time.

“I’m perfectly happy where I’m at. Besides, I’m pretty sure I would be disbarred within the first hour. I don’t think you’re allowed to tell the opposing court to go fuck themselves when they say something out of pocket.”

“Pretty sure you ain’t allowed to throw shit at ‘em either.”

Turning your head to glare playfully over at Frank, he returned it instantly with a challenging arch of his dark brow. You couldn’t fight the grin that slowly stretched across your lips seeing the faux serious look on his face.

“I threw a pillow at you.”

“Two pillows. Hard as hell, too.”

“I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

“I’m fuckin’ delicate, goddamn it.”

The mock expression of offense on Frank’s face coupled with the serious tone of his voice made you double over with laughter. He couldn’t seem to keep his composure either, and he began to laugh along with you. Shaking your head slowly, you waved your hand at him dismissively and turned your attention back to your phone.

“Okay, I’m trying to solve a case here. Stop distracting me. I have more than two pillows in my arsenal right now.”

“That a threat?”

“It’s a promise, Castle.”

“I had no idea you were so ruthless.”

Frank grumbled quietly under his breath as he looked through the stack of papers with the ghost of a smile on his lips while you softly laughed, his dark eyes scanning the pages for anything either of you might have missed. 

As you looked through the documents Ellison had emailed you about Fortis Allied, perplexity creased in the middle of your forehead the more you looked through each page.

“It’s not a real company.”

“What?”

“Fortis Allied. It’s…it’s like a shell company. It’s just a front. And it’s owned by…”

As you read the signature on one of the forms you were looking at, your confusion melted into an expression of cognizance. Enlarging the signature, you turned to show your screen to Frank, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he read the letters, before his face shifted into a look of indignation.

“Son of a bitch.”

Owned and operated by Nicolas Cavella.

Before either of you could say anything, Frank’s phone started to ring. He glanced down at and read the name flashing across the screen, giving you a quick glance before flipping it open to answer.

“Yeah?”

He stood up and walked over towards the window, leaning against the wall with his back to you. Curiosity got the better of you, and your eyes fixated on him as you watched him intently.

“Been takin’ care of somethin’. What do ya need?” His voice sounded a little rougher than usual, and you caught the way he tensed slightly and watched as his eyes flickered over at you over his shoulder. You arched one of your brows silently, as if asking him who he was talking to and what was going on.

“Yeah…I know. Cause I turned ‘em off. You know why, Bill. Yeah, she’s fine.”

Billy.

It abruptly dawned on you that you weren’t sure if Frank had told Billy what happened. He was technically supposed to be with Steven right now. Where did Billy think Frank was? What had Frank told him? Why wasn’t Frank letting him help?

In the midst of your chaotic inner monologue, Frank’s head dropped between his shoulders for a moment and he let out a heavy exhale before turning to stare over at you with an unreadable expression.

“She’s with me.”

The way Frank said that sent a shiver cascading down your spine, and the room suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter. You watched as he lightly clenched his jaw and nodded, as if Billy were in the room and not on the other end of the line.

“Be there in an hour.”

Without another word, Frank snapped his phone shut, and you watched him inquisitively.

“What was that about?”

“I gotta go check in with Bill. That trustfund asshole is throwin’ a fit ‘bout me not bein’ ‘round.”

While Frank started to gather his wallet and his gun, you quickly got down from the bed, feeling your pulse start to quicken at the thought of him leaving.

“Wait, I thought Steven didn’t want you around?”

“And I didn’t wanna be ‘round, but I guess you gettin’ kidnapped and two cops gettin’ shot spooked ‘em. I won’t be gone long.”

Before Frank could take another step, you grabbed your bag and started to gather up all the paperwork back into the folder.

“I’m coming.”

Frank paused while reaching for his black denim jacket. He let out a deep exhale as she shook his head and motioned towards the bed for you to sit.

“It ain’t safe for you to be in the city right now. Just stay here and I’ll be-”

“Frank, we already talked about this. I’m safer with you, okay?”

“It’s only an hour away-”

“I don’t care if it’s five minutes down the street, I don’t want to be without you.”

Alone. You had meant to say, ‘I don’t want to be alone’. But the words had already left your lips, and Frank was already staring at you with that one look in his eyes that you could never seem to decode. He didn’t hesitate like he did when you asked to come on the stakeout with him. He walked over towards the door of the hotel room and opened it, gesturing with his head for you to follow him, and before you knew it, the New York City skyline was coming into view.

»»———　　———««

When Frank pulled up to the Anvil office and put his truck in park, he turned his head to look at you with a somewhat stern gaze.

“Just stay in the truck, alright? Won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

For a minute, Frank’s thick brows knit together before they rose up his forehead an inch, like he was shocked you simply agreed instead of arguing with him about coming in. He eyed you warily for another moment before letting out a quiet grunt and getting out, closing the driver side door behind himself. While you watched him march up the front steps of Anvil, it was incredibly amusing to see how many people rushed to get out of his way. You weren’t sure if it was because they knew him and knew to stay out of his way, or if it was because of his physical stature and the permanent broody look etched onto his sharp features. Either way, you couldn’t help but laugh.

While you sat there in the truck looking through your phone, you noticed that there was a red notification dot lingering over your voice notes app. Clicking on the app curiously, you were met with an error message that read “Failed to capture full recording”. Immediately you were puzzled, and then you noticed that your last recording was over four hours. When you checked the date and saw it was from three days ago, a soft gasp left your lips.

You had never stopped the recording with Walker and Cavella.

Your phone must have just kept recording until it eventually died. With everything that had happened the past three days, you had almost forgotten about the recording entirely. Pressing the play button, you turned up the volume and listened to the playback.

The sound of glass shattering and bullets flying along with your own panicked scream had you wincing and pulling the phone away from your ear. The sounds of one of the most traumatic nights of your life had your stomach twisting into anxious knots, and you felt the phantom pain in your bandaged hand of glass slicing it open all over again. But just as you were about to turn it off, something caught your attention and made your ears perk up.

Rewinding the recording a few seconds, you pressed play again.

“Pr…we…ot…fuc…lem.”

The sound of bullets being fired in the background made it difficult to make out the words. You rewound it a few seconds and played it again, furrowing your brows as you listened intently.

“Pr…we..got..fuc…problem.”

After quickly downloading one of those music recording apps on your phone, you imported the clip from the voice memo and tried to figure out how to isolate the audio to where you could hear it better. As you pressed play this time and listened, you could hear Cavella’s frantic shouting clear as day, and his words made your blood run cold.

“Price, we got a fucking problem!”

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