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kinardsevan · 3 days ago

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What is your opinion on Tommy coming back or not? And in they case we see him again, do you think it’ll be just for closure (ex: Abby in season 3) or maybe for a BuckTommy second chance?

fun fact: i was considering doing an entire breakdown with a bunch of Oliver's interviews from the start of this arc until now to point to my opinion:

Tommy is coming back. The romcom theme is still in effect, and we're only about midway through the 3rd act.

Long story short (and without sources right now), I think that the interviews were actuallly pointing in this direction with the wording for a hot second. We have OS telling us that he thinks the best relationships have a "will they, won't they" bit where the audience and the characters are pining. We've seen this play out on the show. And we also have to remember that Oli knew during this interview that the breakup was coming. We also have the interview (I believe it was the Decider one I linked last week) where he mentions choosing to fight for the relationship or not. I feel like a lot of people have taken the context of that and twisted it into "they didn't do it right away, so they're not going to". Except, there's ANOTHER quote of relevance, which is Oliver talking about how Buck's queerness isn't tied to Tommy or Eddie, and only to himself.

Obviously, there have been things said since 806 that would point towards me being delulu, except, here's the issue: TM, OS and LFJr are NOT going to tell us that Tommy is coming back if that's the intention. It would spoil the surprise of it all, and the win of it all. What fun is there in that? What TM has said is that Tommy is Buck's romantic past but that doesn't mean he won't turn up again in the future (all relevant and true facts which do not shut down a reconciliation). Lou never out-and-out said he was done with the show. He's said time and time again that he wants to come back. TM has mentioned Tommy coming around again. OS literally said in an interview "they may run into each other on scene and have it be awkward".

Now obviously we don't actually have the full story with how things went down and the show decided to go with splitting the boys up. I think the fact that Lou has called out the bullying but says he wants to come back suggests that it wasn't him saying it was too much. I have two theories that could honestly run concurrent with one another:

Evan and Tommy break up in 806 at the end of the episode. With 911 having 18 episode seasons, this quite literally only makes up the first third of the season. It set up the beginning of the year for us. We're now two episodes into the second part of the season with a pretty clear idea of where the next three will go and suggestions (by fans, nothing official) that the "soonest" we could see LFJr again is 812. This is reasonable, as it would be the end of the middle of the season. Knowing that TM has suggested he might do a multi-episode season finale, pushing LFJr back into the show in 812 (or even the end of 811 if we go with my theory that Eddie could possibly leave around this time and Tommy helps them pack up/his and Buck's first time spending time around each other again), there would still likely be something around this time period that would be around when they would open the doors to this. As it is, we know that 809 and 810 go together, and then we'd have 811 to really flesh out the end of Buck's fling. I think there's even more possibility of LFJr being in this episode as well because if the plan is to bring them back together (which everything has been suggested so far ON screen in terms of keeping Tommy "in" the story), three-episode arc gives us several things: a. it allows the show to make the point that Buck's queerness is not intrinsically attached to Tommy; that his interest in men is as equal as he know his interest in women is. b. it gives them the ability to also show that his feelings for Tommy are not based in Tommy being his "first", or Evan needing to "discover" more about himself. They're in love with each other, and the show has given us the pieces for that. LFJr has acknowledged it in an interview, Tommy loves Buck. We also know that Tommy's line to Evan is "you'd end up breaking my heart, and I don't think I could deal with that". When I hear that sentence, what I'm actually hearing is "I'm already in love with you, and if I let myself fall more in love with you by being with you every day all the time and this ends, I won't survive it". By relation, we have Josh ask Buck if he loves Tommy and Buck waffles, but I think this has more to do with his lack of understanding of what a healthy love is in a relationship, given his past relationships. He never got to tell Abby. Ali left. and saying I love you to Taylor wasn't about the core of actually being in love with her, which I think is another important piece for BuckTommy: they don't just love each other, they're in love with each other. Still, sometimes it's hard to quantify that feeling, and I think (as I've referenced before), for Evan it was easier to ask Tommy to share a living space with him than to share how he feels about him because historically, things haven't worked out well for him when he's been in love outwardly. Further, the questions Josh asks Evan are directly correlated with loving someone, and Evan answers yes to all of them. (I don't think I need to add this, but he also sees a future with Tommy, talks about being engaged or married. He's serious about Tommy in a way he never has been before.)

There's also the theory that the breakup happened because of scheduling conflicts. Now obviously the show could've found other ways to work around LFJr's scheduling issues by having Tommy go on a trip or what-have-you, but let's remember OTHER things that have been said by OS in prior interviews: a. back in June, he did an interview where he stated that he wanted and hoped that BuckTommy would go through issues that couples normally go through in their first year together. He wanted normal issues. This storyline IS normal. b. he didn't want to repeat Tarlos. By the very definition of what the show is doing right now, we're not. Tarlos and BuckTommy are their own things with their own reasonings.

One of the other things I also keep being pulled back to is these issues: first of all, we know how LFJr plays with the 911 demo, given that they got to see it last season. It's why he was written into more episodes after his initial four episode arc and brought back. ABC has also used BuckTommy in their own adverts, which suggests that they are very supportive of the relationship continuing because it draws in viewers. Truly giving that up for good feels like dousing yourself in gasoline and then considering striking a match. Second, people also keep calling out that TM only plans a few weeks in advance. I believe this is true with story beats. We know that the writers room has a general idea on character arcs, thanks to some of the discussion on the cheese page post-806. I really struggle to believe that TM didn't know going into going forward with the breakup whether or not he wanted to bring LFJr back. We know he waffled back and forth on the idea of the breakup, meaning he probably had other solutions on his mind for whatever LFJr's schedule needed adjusting for, and this is what he decided on. Also, even if 8b hasn't been broken down yet (we know it hasn't), they would still know at this point what they do or don't want, what their ideas might be. Solidification for why Tommy should be brought back is directly shown in the reaction by the GA and the fandom to the breakup. They may not know exactly how that reunion happens yet, but what they have suggested is that Buck's new relationship will be short-lived. That he's using it to cope. We also know he's still processing the break-up and still misses Tommy. These are all things that point to the story not being over. Plus, I feel (once again), if the story really was over and they didn't have plans to continue this in 8b, LFJr wouldn't be talking about wanting to go back. It be far more "yeah that sucked, but it's over now and what can you do? I'm off to this new show and I'll never be back." (I've commented also on the fact that the fangirlish interview comment about his "i'm going here, doing this, have some opportunities" statement is very run-of-the-mill. Obvs I could mean something. Or it could literally just be a canned answer.) (This might feel a little off-center, but I think his commentary on trusting TM and knowing what he's doing in one of his post-806 interviews directly suggests that he believes the story is going to be handled properly.)

I realize at the end of the day, all of what I'm piecing together could mean zilch and Tommy could possibly never come back. They could truly just drop the story and never circle back around, set fire to a beautiful arc and lose thousands (possibly millions) of viewers. I've certainly suggested myself being one of them. But I don't see BuckTommy only getting an Abby fix for two reasons. LFJr wants to come back and continue the story, and Connie Britton only ever intended to do one season. Also, the fling has been called out as being planned to be short-lived. Why bother mentioning that if you don't have other plans for the story.

The last thing I'll leave you with is my commentary from the interview Oli and Aisha did with the guy from Chicago. That reporter obviously liked the BuckTommy storyline and said he's choosing to believe that the relationship is paused, not over. By relation, we had Oliver say three things: (1 and 2) Buck is still looking for love, both in himself and with another person. (3)The season is only half over. Circle that back to 806-808. Buck is finding love in himself by dealing with it in a healthy way (so far) with the baking. We've also seen the "cracks" Oli mentioned with his continued urge to want to text Tommy, as well as him fighting it off by baking (referencing the "pendulum swinging"). Looking for love in others will likely be this arc where he tries to deal/move on. I feel like we collectively watched the end of 806, and then 807 and 808 yelling at the TV "you're in love with him, piece it together already!" (or maybe that was just me???). But truly, whether it's a fling, his therapist, or Bobby/Maddie/Eddie who finally spells it out of or him, I think there will be a point at which we see that come to fruition. The seeds were sewn in for it in the scene with Josh. Now it's just about watching those seeds sprout.

Final note: we've had a good run up to this point with these two. Did we truly thing that the honeymoon phase would last forever? (I didn't. Conflict and the pink bubble popping have to happen eventually.) If we really want to suggest that what BuckTommy has is real, they have to go through this and come out the other side. I think everyone is justifiably frustrated due to the 4 month wait on new episodes (I personally would not have left people hanging quite like this, but that's just me), but the narrative does lead us toward what the show is doing with the suggestion that it does have a natural (and good) conclusion. (Possibly with a helicopter/truck/jeep crash?!)

And just as my singularly LAST note, here's my other thing: Evan and Tommy both have abandonment issues. (Tommy's are clear based on the break up and we know Buck's.) By that correlation, when these two finally get back together, they're never going to fucking let the other go.

(This was so much longer than I intended it to be, but that's my answer 😂😂😂😂😂😂)

#mel's musings #anon ask #ask me anything #my asks are always open #911 discourse #bucktommy #tevan discourse #lou ferrigno jr #mel writes essays as answers #psychology breakdown

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say-al0e · 7 months ago

Text

Casual

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Steve Harrington has always been kind of an asshole and you've always been kind of in love with him. But a lifetime of friendship doesn't mean either of you are ready for something more than a casual fling because there's nothing scarier than vulnerability, even in Hawkins. [Set between seasons 2 and 3] Warnings: Car sex, requited unrequited love, unprotected PinV, mentions of cheating (parents, Carol; not Steve or Reader). Pairing: Steve Harrington x rich girl!Reader (briefly mentioned but important, off-screen Eddie Munson x rich girl!Reader) Word Count: 5.6k

Steve Harrington was kind of an asshole.

For as long as you’d known him, he’d been a bit of a dick. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, depending on who you asked, you’d known him your entire life. You grew up together, neighbors, with parents who, in their own way, were best friends - if either of your parents were capable of such a thing as friendship. And because of that, you saw a side of Steve that few others had ever witnessed.

There were moments where you saw the softness, the honeyed sweetness, that shimmered through the cracks in the facade he crafted for himself - beneath the hair and the smirk and the snarky quips. Moments where the real Steve, a tender-hearted, well-intentioned sweetheart who was always on the verge of getting it right but never quite managed to make it, lurked beneath the heavy crown he wore.

Just as there were moments when he saw beneath your own carefully crafted persona. He was the only only person who had ever seen the worry, the sadness, the deep-rooted yearning for something more that was buried beneath your walls of ice. He saw every impossibly strong, deeply felt emotion that lingered beneath your careful composure, your even stoicism. He saw the real you, not just the Ice Queen cloaked in department store dresses and expensive perfume.

Only, neither of you acknowledged those moments.

It was an unspoken pact, one you’ve honored since thirteen when you both realized that being popular meant more than being nice. You both pretended that you were still the same vapid rich kids you’d always been, unburdened by a world built to cater to you.

Even if that was no longer true. Even if it hadn’t been true in a very long time.

Either way, you didn’t mention his newfound soft spot for a strange, ragtag group of children and he didn’t mention the fact that he knew the hickey just beneath your jaw was from none other than Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson.

Just as you had nearly every weekend for the past six months, the pair of you sat in the backseat of his BMW after yet another party that neither of you particularly wanted to attend. It had long ago gotten old, pretending to enjoy the self-involved prattling of your former classmates - their bragging about taking on the family business or which colleges they’d be attending in the fall, snide remarks about Steve’s lack of direction while conveniently ignoring the fact that you were the only one with an Ivy acceptance - and you couldn’t help yourself as you huffed.

“Tommy and Carol are the worst. I swear, if I have to hear her bitch about his inability to make her come or him make another stupid fucking dick joke, I’m gonna scream.”

For as long as you could remember, you’d wanted to tell them both to fuck off, to disappear back into whatever hole they’d managed to claw their way out of, but Steve reveled in their following, once upon a time, anyway. Now, he looked almost resigned to their existence in your lives as he frowned.

“She told you that?”

“Won’t stop telling me that,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as his hand fell to your thigh, fingers idly tracing the bare skin just beneath the hem of your skirt. “I would tell her to break up with him but, honestly, they totally deserve each other. May they spend the rest of their lives making each other completely fucking miserable.”

It was only in these moments, hidden away in the thick of the trees near Lover’s Lake, that any glimpse of your real selves began to emerge. Your annoyed huffing, directed at the awful people you found yourself surrounded by, and Steve’s tender touch as he shifted closer and carefully brushed a lock of hair from your neck. Neither of you mentioned it, too lost in your own little world, but it never escaped either of your notice.

Still, Steve hummed dutifully. “Totally,” he agreed, “told him she cheated on him with Billy but he called me a liar.” He paused for a moment, shifted just a touch closer - his jean covered leg pressing into yours, body warm even in the cool air conditioning - before he changed the subject by asking, “New perfume?”

“Everyone knows about her and Billy. But, like, who hasn’t Billy fucked at this point.” Steve leaned in, nosed at the curve of your jaw, and you hummed. “Mom brought it back from that last conference they went to. Said I needed something more mature before I leave for school.” You left out the part of the conversation where she went on for nearly an hour about how much of a waste it was for you to even consider college in the first place when you were meant to marry someone of status - someone like Steve - and tilted your head to allow him more room.

“Smells good,” he complimented. “Like oranges or something.”

“Or something,” you mumbled agreeably, shifting against the seat to make yourself more comfortable as he began to press his mouth to the sensitive skin of your throat. “What’re you doin’, Stevie?”

“Giving you the attention you deserve,” he answered, never missing a beat and only pausing to nip at the pulse point. “Can’t have you unfucked in this skirt. That’d be criminal.”

As if he sought to make a point, Steve’s hand began to drift higher up your thigh, fingers traveling a well-worn path and ghosting over bruises left in his wake after last Saturday’s party at his own home. Again, he decidedly avoided the few extra spots that lined your thighs - the bite mark he would see when you parted your legs, in the shape of a certain metalhead’s teeth, and the hickey you’d been left with at the juncture of your thighs - as you laughed.

“Should call Hawkins’s finest,” you teased, grinning when Steve huffed a laugh.

“They’d send Callahan,” he mused as his fingers dug into the plush of your thigh and pulled you closer, encouraging you to climb onto his lap. “Would love to see him try to figure out what to do with you.”

“And you know what to do with me?”

Steve’s smirk was obvious, clear even as he nipped at your skin. “‘Course I do,” he assured you, settling back against the plush of the seat as you shifted in the small space and settled on his lap. “I know exactly what to do with you.”

“Prove it.”

The challenge hung in the air for a moment, thick even in the cool interior of his car, and gave you the briefest respite to study him. Soft brown eyes were blown black with lust, a darkness that you sometimes found yourself grateful for the chance to witness, and his hair had begun falling in his eyes. His cheeks were tinged pink and you knew that his lips would follow soon.

Steve was beautiful, a work of art in the dim moonlight, and your heart beat just a touch too fast for something that was supposed to be casual as you waited for him to take the bait.

Before you could tease, attempt to bring some levity back into the moment that suddenly seemed too intense, Steve’s large hand found the back of your head. He pulled you in with a practiced ease, a touch that betrayed just how comfortable you were with one another, and pressed his mouth to yours.

Whereas Steve’s facade was all flash, easy confidence with nothing to prove, his kiss was almost desperate. There was the knowledge that he was good - he’d earned it, sought to learn exactly what you liked and adapted quickly - but beneath that, there was a desire to make the moment everything you could want. He kissed you with an urgency you could never quite understand, almost as if he wanted to savor the moment because he feared it may never happen again, but you knew that couldn’t be true.

As reticent as you both were to delve into your true selves - into your true feelings - you knew that this would happen time and again. It would happen until one of you inevitably broke the other’s heart, and maybe even after.

Still, Steve kissed your with more passion than you ever could’ve expected.

From your position on his lap, skirt bunched around your waist and hands falling into his hair, you could feel the growing bulge in his jeans. There was a slight rocking of his hips, something you might’ve dismissed as an attempt to get comfortable if you didn’t know him so well, and you still managed to find yourself surprised by just how much the little things turned him on.

“Girls like you,” he rasped, breaking the kiss before you could even think to, “just need to be fucked dumb. Be all pretty and cock drunk. Made into that pretty little trophy wife you swear you’d hate to be.”

The way he spoke was so casually condescending, a little mean in the way he’d discovered you liked, and you felt your cheeks heat as you squirmed on his lap. He knew - knew that your mother hated your ambition, swore you were purposely sabotaging her attempts to marry you off, including the few attempts she’d made with him - and smirked when you shot him a half-hearted glare.

“You can pout all you want, but that’s what you need, right?” His hands fell to your thighs, raking up the soft skin as your own tangled in his hair and tugged. “To be taken care of, to be fucked like you deserve.”

“Don’t think some hotshot husband would care enough to fuck me like that,” you countered, swallowing hard in an attempt to maintain your composure as his fingers trailed higher. “Would never come. He’d be too focused on fucking the secretary ‘cause she won’t be upset when he gets off and she doesn’t. But that’s why the trophy wives fuck the pool boys and tennis coaches, I guess.”

Steve hummed his understanding - had his own firsthand knowledge of both your father’s affairs, knew just what kind of men he was surrounded by now that he was old enough - before tipping his chin to glance up at you. “Guess you’ll have to look harder to find someone worth your time, then. ‘Cause this pussy’s too good to be wasted on some dickhead who won’t appreciate it.”

“Steve.” His name came out softer than you intended, a near breathless sort of whine that betrayed you - more than the growing patch of slick clearly visible against the light pink fabric of your panties - and he hummed.

“Don’t worry, babe. You know I’ll take care of you.” Though Steve could be an asshole when he wanted, he was nothing but a giver when he settled between your thighs. There were moments where you worried, secretly feared this might be the moment he decided to be selfish and leave you hanging, but more often than not, you were the one to tap out first. And any argument you could’ve formed died on your lips as he ordered, “Just shut up and sit pretty for me, yeah?”

Despite yourself - despite the part of your brain that wanted you to argue, to fight back and tell him to go fuck himself - you melted into his touch as his fingers ghosted over the fabric between your thighs. You heard him sigh, felt the warmth of his breath fanning over your mouth as he refused to put more space than necessary between you, as his gaze met yours.

“Next time, I’m fucking you in my bed,” he decided, gaze flicking back to where his fingers hooked into the soft material and dragged it to the side. “Can’t taste you the way I want in here.”

“Can’t keep saying shit like that,” you mumbled, nails biting into his skin as you gripped his shoulder to keep yourself upright. “Gonna make me think you actually like eating pussy.”

“I do,” he admitted, grinning when you rolled your eyes. “Like eating yours the best, though.”

With that, Steve’s fingers swiped through the slick gathered between your thighs. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and his mouth returned to yours, eagerly swallowing the soft noise of surprised pleasure you released.

Each swipe of his fingers was easy, almost lazy. There was a practiced ease there, a lover’s knowledge of your body - absent any of the almost nervous exploration of the first time - and you forced yourself not to think too hard about that fact as his tongue swiped at the seam of your lips.

The small space was cramped, not the easiest to maneuver, but it was familiar.

Though sometimes familiarity equated to boredom, routine, Steve’s touch was anything but. Every swipe of his fingers through your folds, every brush of his thumb over the aching bundle of nerves, was electrifying. He had you teetering on the verge of begging, eager for him in a way you’d never been for anyone else - almost anyone else - and you knew he could tell as he finally gave you something more.

Two thick fingers, skilled and steady, pressed into you. They stretched you - never quite enough to fully prepare you for the impressive length hidden beneath the denim you knew you were soaking through - in a way that had your breath catching in your throat and your heart hammering in your chest. Steve knew exactly where to press, fingers finding that one spot that made you see stars, and you could feel the twitch of his mouth as he refused to allow you to pull away from the kiss entirely.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, tone so smug it made you realize why so many were eager to brand him an asshole. “C’mon, babe, the sooner you let go, the sooner I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Despite your conflicting emotions - the desire to hit him, to call him an asshole and tell him to just get on with it; the desire to kiss him, to tell him that you only wanted this, him for the rest of your life - you settled for the middle ground and allowed yourself to sink into his touch.

Those murmurs of encouragement, almost reverent in a way that you hoped no one else had ever heard, had your mind blanking and your chest heaving as you focused solely on the press of his fingers. His pace was perfect, steady and even and never too much - always too much, always enough to make you wonder how you ever thought you could be fine with losing this someday - and you would’ve told him as much if you were capable of speaking without admitting that you were afraid you could love him for the rest of your life.

Instead, you settled for sinking your nails into his shoulder, for tugging at the soft strands of his hair, as he nipped at your skin. He sucked a mark just beneath the one you knew he’d seen, despite your attempt at concealing it, and that was enough to throw you over the edge.

Steve once admitted to loving the noises you made, promised they turned him on rather than weirded him out - something you only admitted when he asked why you were so quiet, refused to let you come until you explained yourself - and you knew you wouldn’t have been able to quiet yourself even if you’d tried as his fingers worked you through the first orgasm of the night.

Knowing him, Steve wouldn’t stop until he had you desperate - he liked to see your tears, watery eyes and mascara running as you finally let down the walls he’d only glimpsed behind - and that seemed to be the case as he resumed his pace the moment your breathing began to even.

“Steve,” you huffed, your best attempt at something resembling normal, though you could hear the whining edge to your tone. “Fuck me,” you demanded, or at least attempted to. “Fill me up. So big, always feel so full when you’re inside.”

It was a low blow, an attempt to appeal to his ego - exaggerated, though it was true; he was the biggest you’d ever had - and he rolled his eyes as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“So fucking impatient,” he huffed, though he gave in, just as he always did. “Such a spoiled brat.”

With a tap to your thigh, you shifted. You held yourself upright, knees digging into the soft cushions of the seat, long enough for him to unbutton his jeans and shift his hips. As you had every time you found yourself in this situation, which was more often than not lately, you watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he freed himself from the confines of too-tight denim.

For years, you wondered why so many girls flocked to Steve when they knew how things would end. You wondered why anyone gave him a chance, why anyone came back when he forgot to call or blew them off for someone else, but you understood now. The look of him, the weight and feel of his cock in your hand as you reached out and swiped at the pearl of precum beading at the tip, was almost answer enough. The effort he put in to make you feel as if you were the only person that mattered, as if your pleasure were more important than his, quelled the rest of your doubt.

When you lifted your hand to your mouth, lapped the bead from your thumb and hummed, Steve groaned.

“Fucking tease.” There was no bite, no venom, to the words, but you still bit back your grin as he reached for your hip with one hand and held the base of his cock with the other. He dragged you closer, settled you firmly on his lap and swiped the tip of his cock through your folds, as he tipped his chin in a silent request for you to return your mouth to his.

As you pressed your lips to his, he used the grip on your hip to drag your hips down. It was swift, faster than he’d ever gone and almost desperate in the way he pulled you in, but you reveled in the slight pinch as he stretched you open.

There was something so overwhelming about feeling Steve so close, about having him in the way you dreamt of when you first realized how you felt about him, but you did your best to swallow the sudden lump in your throat as your eyes fell shut and your lips parted.

The pace always varied with Steve. Some nights were hard and fast, usually when you were both wound up after a particularly rough night; others were soft and slow, when the emotion began to overwhelm you, when the desperate need to be close outweighed the potential damage a confession might bring. And others still were somewhere in between, teasing and playful; an alternation between soft and hard, slow and quick - a way for him to make you beg, to bring you out of your head and into the moment.

Tonight was no different.

Though you sat atop him, Steve did all the work. His hips snapped, cock pressing into you with every movement, as his hands dragged you down. He controlled the pace, controlled the moment, and you allowed yourself to be fully present.

There was no facade in these moments, no pretending to be anything other than you were, and you imagined that was why you both returned time and again. This was Steve - giving, eager, desperate to be good enough. And you were just as present, just as honest; soft, pliant, warm and overjoyed that he still wanted you despite the surface ice that froze most others out.

Neither of you could pretend here, with nothing between you but a few pesky articles of clothing. Neither of you wanted to.

And you knew, as your mouth returned to his, that despite the rough snap of his hips and the bruising grip he held on your hip, that your kiss betrayed you. Each swipe of your tongue, each breathless gasp you allowed him to swallow, told him exactly what he needed to know.

When his hand fell between your thighs, thumb pressing to the aching bundle of nerves, your mind went blank and your thoughts revolved solely around the beautiful brunette beneath you.

The curve of his jaw, the warmth of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the plush of his lips; Steve, Steve, Steve, was all that existed in your mind. The drag of his cock, filling you so perfectly that it almost seemed as if he were a missing piece, designed especially for you, was all that existed. And just as he wanted, it left you pliant in his hands.

“There we go,” he groaned, voice softer than you imagined he intended, as a hand lifted to your cheek. “Look at that, givin’ you what you need, hm?” When you moaned your agreement, lips pursing in a silent request for him to kiss you, Steve smiled. “Look pretty like this. Soft and fucked out for me. I’m the only one that can make you feel like this, yeah?”

It was the first confirmation that he knew, that he cared more than you thought he might, about the other man in your life. And though you wanted to tease him, to poke and prod and be a bit of a bitch about it, you could only moan your agreement.

Eddie was good, was more than enough, but there was something about Steve.

“Prove it,” he demanded, voice only just beginning to show his exertion as his hips snapped a little harder. “Come for me, babe. Show me how good I make you feel.”

As was beginning to become a habit, you gave in to him without so much as an attempt otherwise. The press of his fingers to your aching clit, the rough snap of his hips, the warmth of his breath fanning over your sweat slick skin; all of it was too much, just enough, to send you barreling over the edge for a second time.

With a cry of his name, keening and louder than you intended, you came and Steve followed shortly after. You could feel the warmth of his spend, the twitch of his cock, as you settled for a long moment, and felt the tears stinging at the backs of your eyes.

Without so much as a second though, Steve lifted a hand to brush at your cheeks, careful not to press too hard, and swiped away the few that had fallen before he pressed a kiss to your cheek and shot you a teasing wink.

“Love it when you cry for me, babe,” he teased, though you wondered if he’d have the same reaction if he knew the tears were, at least in part, caused by the overwhelming flurry of emotion that had you questioning everything you knew. “Seeing the Ice Queen melt never gets old.”

“You’re such a dick, Stevie.” The huff was as playful as you could manage with your breath still coming in short pants and your stomach churning with emotion but he grinned just the same as he helped you off his lap.

“Think you mean, ‘you have such a great dick, Stevie’.” When you rolled your eyes, straightening out your clothes and attempting to smooth your hair, he laughed. “Oh, c’mon, not gonna say thank you for the incredible orgasms? Your parents raised you better than that, babe.”

“They raised me better than to fuck some rich asshole in the backseat of his car, but, here we are.” Steve followed your lead and began to straighten himself out, zipped his jeans and at least pretended not to stare as you settled your panties back into place, the fabric immediately darkening with his spend. “Speaking of, you should probably get me home, Romeo. It’s past curfew.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Steve simply tugged you back into his side, hand cradling your jaw as you both attempted to catch your breath.

The lie was obvious - your parents didn’t care very much how late you stayed out, even less when you were with Steve - and you knew that he knew who would be waiting for you to return home. However, you didn’t expect him to ask.

Steve’s touch was soft, though you could see the distaste in the set of his mouth as his fingers brushed the two marks beneath your jaw - one fresh and one fading. “What’re you doin’ with the freak, anyway?” He’d never asked, neither of you made it a habit to pry into the other’s personal life, but he seemed unable to help himself as he continued. “You know you could just buy weed, right? You don’t have to fuck him for it.”

“I don’t smoke,” you reminded him, rolling your eyes even as you leaned into his touch. “Dunno,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze as your hands worried with the hem of your skirt. “He’s exciting. Well, not really,” you amended because he wasn’t, “but he’s different. He’s just… Eddie. Doesn’t try to be something he’s not.” The slight was unintentional but you caught Steve’s slight wince, even as you barreled on. “And, I mean, it totally pisses off my dad every time he sees Eddie sneaking out because the guy’s a total fucking klutz and can’t leave without waking up half the neighborhood.” Steve scoffed, though you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it as he quickly covered the sound with a clearing of his throat before you added, as an afterthought, “And he listens to me. Not, like, pretends to.”

“I listen to you.”

While it wasn’t a lie - Steve listened, retained whatever you told him - neither of you were ever particularly honest with one another. Your conversations were never as serious as the ones you shared with Eddie, never as deep. For someone you considered your best friend, Steve barely knew anything about the real you. Though, that was as much your fault as it was his.

There was always a fear, deep and unfounded, that he might not like the real you. That if you were honest, that if you allowed him to see you for who you really were, that he might hate you. That he might leave. With Eddie, that didn’t matter very much. He was fun, a distraction, a taste of something forbidden and a glimpse into another life, but he was temporary. He could leave at any time, decide he didn’t like the real you and it might hurt for a moment but you would get over it quick.

With Steve, it was your biggest fear.

Thinking that he might not like the real you, that he might suddenly change his mind and decide the real you wasn’t worth his time, was a fear that felt almost paralyzing. Steve’s opinion mattered, more than anyone else’s, so you held tight to the person you’d always been - the one he’d always at least tolerated - and never breathed so much as a word to the contrary.

Regardless, you humored him. “You do,” you agreed, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from his eyes. “But you kinda have to. And you also moaned Nancy’s name the first time we fucked so, like, that sorta cancels out some of the good stuff.” Steve flustered, cheeks flashing neon pink as he recalled the moment - a drunken hookup soon after his breakup, the first of what would become a regular occurrence - but before he could defend himself, you asked, “How’s that going, by the way? You figure out how to get her back from the creep?”

Steve shook his head, then, and sighed as he admitted, “Don’t think I even want to, anymore. Think I was just… She was right, maybe. We were kind of bullshit.”

The resigned misery in his voice was obvious, still upset by the hurtful declaration of a girl you knew he’d loved - in his own way, anyway - and you sighed as you rested your head against the seat cushion. “All of this is bullshit,” you shrugged. “High school, Hawkins, Indiana; none of it means anything.”

“We don’t mean anything?” Despite his best attempt at nonchalance, Steve sounded almost heartbroken - devastated to hear yet another person who meant something to him declare that he meant nothing - and you sighed as you grabbed the hand that rested on your thigh.

“You know I hate sentimentality,” you mumbled, unable to look him in the eye, “but you’re the only thing worth anything in my whole life. You could never be bullshit. Annoying, totally, but not bullshit. Never bullshit.”

There was a brief pause, a moment in which you both felt the weight of you admission pressing on your chests - stealing what little air seemed to remain in the car, windows still fogged and radio still playing too softly to really hear - before Steve swallowed. “You know I…” He cut himself off, paused and seemed to think better of voicing the thought aloud, before he asked, “You know, right?”

‘I love you,’ went unspoken, as it always had. It lingered, just beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to crack the ice and set it free. You knew, just as Steve did, that you were in something like love. Maybe not a love that would last forever, maybe not even a love that was ever meant to be, but it was there.

Warm, shiny and bright, and just waiting for you to stop pretending that things between you had ever been casual.

So, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you assured him, reaching for his hand to squeeze it gently. “I know. Me, too.”

Silence fell, then, thick and suffocating. It filled the interior of his car with a bitter chill and it struck you just how new that feeling was. It made you wonder what a future might be like, if you had one at all, and you found yourself mildly horrified at the idea that you could end up as either set of your parents. There was no world in which you could see a future without Steve at least somewhere in your life but there was no happiness in a world in which you both continued to pretend.

Either way, you were both stuck - caught up in a never-ending performance, an act for an audience that only existed in your minds.

What began as something effortless, something casual, had become so complicated that you no longer felt certain of much beyond the understanding that you loved Steve. How - if you could love the real him, if you only loved the idea of him, if you loved the safety of him - was a question you had no answer to but before you could begin to even fathom it, the moment ended.

Steve pressed a final kiss to your mouth, bruising in a way that made your chest ache and your eyes sting with unshod tears, before he made his way to the driver’s seat.

And then, just as he had every night since he got his license, Steve drove you home. He pulled up to the door to let you out and didn’t mention the van he saw parked down the street. He squeezed your hand before you could step out into the night, three times in rapid succession, and lit a cigarette the moment you stepped out of the car.

King Steve wasn’t one to fall in love easily, neither was the Ice Queen. But Steve Harrington wore his heart on his sleeve and that heart beat for you. Despite the distractions, the desperate attempts at finding something so disconnected from the cushioned prison of his gilded cage, he knew that it had been you all along. And just as neither of you mentioned the real people beneath the personas, neither of you mentioned just how real the love you shared had grown.

Loving one another, allowing yourselves to be vulnerable - to reveal the deepest, darkest secrets - was terrifying. Both of you feared what the other might think of the truth that lay beneath the crown so you agreed, silently, that to pretend was better than to face rejection.

So, Steve drove the few streets that separated your neighborhood from his and let himself into the empty house that meant nothing when his true home was likely sliding open a window to allow the only person he’d ever seen as true competition inside. And he wondered when the love of his life became a casual fling, when you both resigned yourselves to pretending that neither of you deserved something real - something true, something happy. He wondered why he carried on with it, knowing that in a few short weeks you would be in Boston, knee-deep in a life you hated, while he was stuck in Hawkins, wishing he’d had the courage to be himself and that he’d asked for something more than casual.

There was no satisfactory answer, not if he really thought about it, so he decided not to.

The rest of the summer would be spent in the same way the last six months had. Steve would pretend to enjoy the parties and the attention of girls who only wanted him for his reputation. You would continue pretending that nothing fazed you, not even him. And things between you would remain casual.

And he supposed that was just the way it was meant to be.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note: Did you know there's a chance black beans will catch on fire in the microwave? 'Cause I didn't. Anyway. This was my first time writing 'King Steve' and I had so much fun. This was loosely inspired by Chappell Roan's Casual. And my love of both Steve and Eddie. :)

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff, @valthevalkyrie-main, @crying-caro, @inglourious-imagines

#stranger things smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #v's fics

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t-r99 · 7 months ago

Text

Thank You

Oliver knows it can be hard to trust him. He would do anything to prove that he changed when he met you.

I spent way too long writing this stupid thing and now I think it’s crap. Bleh

It's because I posted this

Oliver Aiku x reader

wc: 1.3k

"What's going on with you? At this rate we'll be the laughingstock of Japan."

Aiku ignores Niou. For the first time in his life, he's distracted during a match. He's the captain of the team and their best defender, but he can hardly focus on anything other than you and your teary eyes and broken voice.

It's been two days.

It feels longer.

Aiku doesn't like being away from you for this long and that's what's fucking with him. He doesn't know when he got so attached.

He's Oliver Aiku, for goodness' sake. He doesn't do relationship issues, he usually is the issue itself, and he doesn't exactly do relationships either.

It's the first time he's ashamed of being a so called womanizer. Aiku's past antics have finally come back to bite him in the ass.

"You okay there?" Sendou asks.

Everyone is well aware of the fact that something is wrong. Aiku has been mostly quiet and keeping to himself for the past two days, having only practiced like crazy.

"'m fine." Oliver grunts.

"Get yourself together then." Niou says. "We need you out there."

The team needs him, but Aiku needs you. He feels so lost without you that it's nauseating.

Oliver thinks back to two days prior when several old flings suddenly showed up out of nowhere.

It's not like it was ever a secret that he used to get around, but it all changed when he met you. You're so much more than that, and now you think he's just a shameless cheater.

"Aiku," Niou speaks again. "get your shit together. We're going back out in ten minutes."

Oliver . . . doesn't care.

All he wants is to hold you right now. Aiku is sure you hate him, and why wouldn't you? Before you actually gave him a chance, you rejected him because of his past and reputation, then when you finally gave him a chance you ended up walking in on a bunch of girls all over him. How could anyone not think he was cheating?

If only you would talk to him. Oliver just wants to explain what happened.

He's looking down at his phone, screen black. While he wants to text you, he honestly has no idea what to type out anymore.

Aiku's mind drifts again and he thinks back to two days ago.

What do I say? I should . . . He sighs. Oliver really has no idea what to say. He's already called and texted numerous times but you haven’t answered or replied.

He sees your face in front of him again and he hears your voice echo in his mind, "I knew it. This is what I was scared would happen but you promised and now . . ." You didn't yell at him, but he honestly wishes you had. You just sounded defeated.

Aiku wants to bash his head into the nearest wall in an effort to erase the memory from his mind.

His phone vibrates, barely a minute before half time is over.

It's not from you. Of course it isn't. Oliver doesn't recognize the number, but the bottom of the text says that it's from one of your friends, reading, I was asked to text you that you're being pathetic. Come on, you're better than that.

Asked? Asked by whom? By you?

Aiku gulps. Does that mean you're watching the match from home? You've never actually been interested in sports, but if you're watching even when hurt and pissed at him then maybe . . .

Oliver puts his phone away.

He's still a bit distracted now that the second half has begun, but it's not as bad anymore. He now knows you watched the first half and Oliver hopes you're still watching.

You know a bit about the sport even though you're not a fan, and you've praised him for his skills plenty. It swells his ego like never before to have you tell him he did a great job on the field.

He's thinking about it now while facing the opposing team's striker. If everything between you two was okay right now, he would defend the goal and block the shot, make sure no one would score, his team would win, and he would get to go to you and get praised and smothered with kisses all over his face, he absolutely loves it.

God, he really wants to see you.

It was close, but they won.

The team celebrates but Oliver sits defeated, towel on his head with his hair covering his eyes.

He managed to get his shit together enough to block every shot from the opposing team but now that the match is over he's once again reminded of how you're not there to tell him he did well.

Aiku takes his gloves off and tosses them to the side.

The team notices, but no one says anything. They think he's mentally reprimanding himself for his performance in the first half.

Oliver only got himself together because he knew you were watching, not wanting to disappoint you. Now he wishes he could just hug you and annoy you with endless, "Did you see what I did? I was amazing, wasn't I?"

He grabs his phone, hoping he'll unlock it to find a message from you, but there's nothing.

Nothing, He thinks, locking it again.

Aiku gets up and showers. The team wants to go out for a celebratory dinner but he declines.

That finally makes everyone start to pester him. One is asking what his issue is, another asks if something happened, someone tells him he's acting weird, but Oliver ignores everything.

"I want to be alone." He says, picking his bag up.

What an idiot he is.

You're too good for him, he doesn't deserve you.

Aiku pushes the exit door open and looks up.

"Wha-. . ."

He's dreaming right?

The second your eyes meet you look down, brows furrowing. You look both hurt and anxious, hands balled into fists by your sides, shifting your weight on your feet, just uncomfortable.

Are you uncomfortable because you're finally in his presence again? The question crosses Aiku's mind and he swears he feels actual physical pain.

He drops his bag.

You're honestly caught off guard when he sprints up to you and engulfs you in a near suffocating hug.

Oliver clings to you desperately, pulling you into his chest with a relieved sigh. He nuzzles into your shoulder for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of holding you in his arms again, then turns his head to kiss your cheek and buries his face in the side of your neck. "I never wanted to hurt you." Aiku mumbles.

He sounds so defeated.

You don't do much, only putting a hand on the back of his head. "What happened the other day?" Your voice is small and quiet.

"I don't know." Oliver admits.

"You ever cheated on me?" You ask.

Deep down you know that the answer is no. Oliver dotes on you and never fails to show how much you mean to him. Sure, you had your doubts in the beginning, but he's never given you a reason to think he was fooling around with others.

Oliver gives a soft, "No." and hugs you tighter.

"Okay." You mumble, playing with his hair. "I believe you."

"Yeah?" Aiku sighs in relief. "Thank you."

"It's not easy, though."

"I know." Oliver is well aware of his reputation. He's never cared before, but he does now. He cares because it affects you. "I'm sorry."

"You were really pathetic in the first half." You suddenly say and he snorts, smiling. "Did my message help?"

"Why didn't you text me yourself?" He asks.

"I wanted to see you in person before talking over the phone."

Oliver pulls back enough to look down at you. You're looking away from him with a small pout on your face, a light blush on your cheeks. "Thank you." He kisses your temple.

#blue lock #bllk #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku x you #aiku x reader #blue lock oliver aiku

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mcl4r3n · 1 year ago

Text

Ego

Or, a 2,500 word fanfic of Lando Norris discovering AO3 and getting off to fanfiction that nobody asked for but I wanted to write, anyway. :3

Lando Norris is a cunt and should lose his seat

Why the fuck do people keep hyping this kid up

Driver of the Day????? ARE U KIDDING ME???? WHEN CARLOS DEFENDED LIKE THAT??? Wtf

Lando exhales through his nose, slow and long, before smiling to himself and closing out his private Twitter browser.

The reception to his performance at Austria is expected, and it's a little amusing to read that that's the worst these strangers on the internet seem to be able to come up with.

He's gotten better, certainly, at not running his mouth with reckless abandon. Charlotte would be proud of him, if she still worked for McLaren.

He leans back in his seat, the jet preparing for takeoff. The articles were nice to him. Damon Hill had good things to say about him. P5 to P4, thanks to the penalties. It's a good fucking day.

It's a little masochistic, a little narcissistic, to peruse the internet for his name as much as he does, but he’s a Silverstone winner now. He’s really enjoyed the things written up about him.

Besides, that's how Lando learned to get over caring so much in the first place. Just a few years back, he used to agonize over a slip of the tongue, used to wring his hands and fuck up his hair in worry over what the pundits would say about him because of a careless soundbite.

He dealt with some of the worst of it when Daniel became his teammate, and even at the end, he had to learn how to stop flinching whenever he saw the word 'sympathy.'

Now it's different. It helps, of course, that Daniel taught him how to get over it, grow thicker skin, and deal with the worst of it.

"Let it roll off you like water," Daniel said. So Lando did.

It's a slower news week though, and he's bored, so he searches up his name and scrolls through all the posts on the first few pages of his Google search.

And then he sees it, a link to something called 'Archive of Our Own,' and decides to press on it with his thumb.

It opens to a page that appears to be. . . stories, written about. . . them. Drivers.

Drivers with other drivers. Drivers' names next to 'Original Female Character(s)'.

It's fiction written by fans about them.

Lando looks around his living room, at the stalled Netflix homepage on his television screen. He really should be on the sim instead, but mostly, he's tired, and would rather do some other mindless thing.

He scrolls through and sees one that says 'Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz' with an E in a red square. Beside it, a link leads to 'Formula 1 RPF'.

He toggles onto a new tab and types in 'rpf meaning,' which shows the definition: real person fiction. Well, he gathered as much.

The tags are interesting, he'll give it that. 'Blowjob', '2023 Formula 1 Season', 'Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot'.

He opens the story and scans it quickly, the morbid curiosity of wanting to know how fans see his relationship with Carlos overriding the fact that it's fucking weird to be reading what is essentially smut about himself and his friend.

This story seems to have them written like they're secret lovers, that they have been since Carlos' McLaren days, and absolutely doesn't take into account that both he and Carlos had girlfriends at one point.

He snorts when he reaches a line that has him saying, "Carlos, please, you're so big, please fuck me."

Lando frowns at the screen. His skin is starting to itch. Why do people think he'd say that to Carlos? For one thing, Carlos doesn't even have a big dick. Lando knows—he's seen it himself. Changing in a hurry tends to lead to that, flinging bits about while they finish golf.

"Cariño," the Carlos in the story says, and that's when Lando loses it, no longer able to contain his laughter. He's honestly tempted to send a screenshot off to Carlos, but then he'd have to explain how he found it in the first place, and he doesn't feel like doing that just now.

So instead, he clicks back and scrolls down some more.

There seems to be a pretty steady stream of people who are invested in Max and Daniel, and also Max and Charles, based on the list of pairings that he sees, which he can like, understand. He doesn't blame the fans at all for that, considering how many antics they get up to in the name of PR.

They know that shit sells. Lando’s just getting a full proper look at what that actually means for fans.

Yeah, that’s right, he tells himself. This is just homework. He’s doing recon to see what else they can do to boost their socials.

He takes a little more time to read through the page properly. It lists the number of words in the story, the ratings that imply just how explicit the story is, and something called a ‘kudos’ which he figures means that it’s the same as likes on Instagram or whatever.

He stops at one that has him and Daniel, and curiosity gets the better of him. It’s short, too, roughly 1,500 words. It’s listed as Explicit, but the summary is what gets him.

“Daniel knows exactly how to congratulate Lando properly for his win at Silverstone.”

Lando leans back into his throw pillow and holds his phone a little closer to his face.

The story is set in the new Hilton hotel, and this must have been written by a fan who was actually there because the description of the room itself is eerily similar to the room he himself stayed in just last week.

This story seems to get the way he and Daniel talk a little closer to reality than the previous one he perused.

It’s so strange to be reading this, to have his mannerisms laid out in text, to see how a fan describes him through this fictional version of Daniel.

Lando can’t seem to exit out of it, though. The Lando in the story is happy, of course, about winning. But the Daniel in it—seems desperate. For him.

Lando’s fucking hooked.

Daniel wants to reach out, wants to mess up Lando’s curls even more, never mind the fact that it’s sticky with sweat and champagne. Lando hasn’t even changed out of the clothes from the fan stage yet, but all Daniel wants to do is undress him, bury his face in Lando’s armpit, and inhale deeply, abolish any sort of space that separates them.

Lando puts his phone down. His heart rate has kicked up a little. This is fake. This is fake. This is fake.

He gets back to reading. This is fake. Like, it’s all made up, but the details that this fan throws in… well. It has Daniel staring longingly at his moles, and the way his clothes hug his thighs and—

And now, the Lando in the story is turning around and tipping his head to the side and saying, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Lando draws his knees closer to his chest, curling his arms in and reading intently.

"Mate, I'm really—I'm having a hard time right now and I think I should uh, go," Daniel says. He starts to scramble. He doesn't even know why he thought visiting Lando in his room would be a good idea.

Daniel turns to leave but Lando steps in closer, frowning.

"What's going on?" Lando asks, his eyes searching Daniel's face for any sort of answer. Daniel needs to go. He needs to go right fucking now, but Lando has his hand wrapped around his wrist and he looks wounded by Daniel's abrupt one-eighty.

Daniel hangs his head in shame.

"I want to—to kiss you, and I need you to let me go before I do that."

Lando doubts that Daniel would ever actually say that, but somehow he’s not inclined to laugh about this the way he was with the other story.

Lando’s hand remains where it is, fingers strong and unyielding.

“You—you wanna kiss me? Are you drunk right now?”

Daniel wants to fall into the floor beneath him, have the marble or whatever the fuck this tile is made of to rearrange its molecules so he can become one with them. That's better than having to repeat himself. That's better than having to admit out loud that he wants to fuck his ex-teammate who is ten years his junior.

Lando pauses here. He's realizing that the AC isn't quite cold enough. How'd that happen?

He readjusts himself on his couch. There's really no point in reading on but now he wants to know what happens. Morbid curiosity really is getting the better of him.

His screen lights up again when he raises his phone and unlocks the screen to where the story is still there, taunting him.

He exhales. He reads on.

"Yeah, Lando, I wanna kiss you," Daniel says, his voice steadier than how he actually feels.

Lando's eyes narrow, and he tilts his head, regarding Daniel like he's lying, like he's fucking with him. And, yeah, okay, fair, Daniel's said enough gay-sounding shit around him for him to be suspicious, but that was all for the cameras.

There aren't any, here. There's no reason for him to be playing gay chicken.

Lando's hand tightens around his wrist.

"Prove it, then," Lando says, raising his chin, like a dare. Like a fucking dare.

Daniel could easily leave. He isn't much bigger than Lando but he could have pulled away earlier. Except—except now Lando is taunting him. Telling him to put his money where his mouth is.

Lando's heart is racing now, torn between wanting to close out of this story and reading on, just because he's gotten this far. He might as well finish it.

Daniel steps closer, and even if this isn't exactly how he'd fantasized about kissing Lando for the first time, but somehow it's still fitting. Lando is so handsome like this—blush high on his cheeks, all the way down to his neck.

He cups his hand under Lando's jaw, and brushes his thumb over the stupid fucking beard that he hated at first but now loves—

Lando frowns. Was his beard really that bad?

—and presses his lips to Lando's. It's tentative at first, exploratory, hesitant in its early press, but then Lando moans, gasps against his mouth, and Daniel takes that as his cue to seal his lips in closer and slide his tongue against Lando's.

It becomes frantic then after they both cross the threshold into each other's breaths. Lando's hands grasp at Daniel's shirt, and the next thing Daniel knows, he's being guided to the bed, collapsing on top of the pristine duvet without ceremony.

Lando clambers on top of him and straddles his hips, and Daniel can already feel himself getting hard in his jeans.

Lando stops reading.

He stops because all of a sudden, he can feel himself getting hard, too.

He glances between his legs as if looking will make it go away but it’s futile. He can see his half-chub starting to tent his shorts. Fuck. What the fuck?

But then again—he’s alone right now. No one is around to see this.

He feels juvenile, like he’s thirteen all over again trying to sneak porn on his older brother’s laptop and then learning how to delete his search history. Except that porn sort of made sense, to him, at least. He was watching girls with big boobs getting railed by these buff men.

This is—this is different. Kind of concerning. He’s sure none of the other drivers have ever done this.

But the more he waits, the more impatient the little voice in his head gets, wanting to know what happens in the story. He sighs, resigned, and opens his phone back up.

“Lando, Lando, wait,” Daniel says, pulling away and desperately trying to catch his breath. “I—There, I proved it to you. Are you happy?”

“Yeah, I was, until you stopped, you muppet,” Lando frowns. “Why’d you stop?”

Daniel swallows the spit in his mouth—Christ almighty, that’s spit that also came from Lando’s mouth. “Because if we keep going, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

Lando leans over him, and Daniel has to suppress the shudder that courses through the entirety of his body because Lando is hard, too. Lando is hard and pressing his erection against Daniel’s steadily growing one, and he has to curl his toes to deal with the fucking emotion of it all.

Lando’s fucked. He’s so fucked. He’s fully hard now from reading this scene, and before he can bring himself to feel too much shame over it, he’s tugging the elastic of his shorts and his boxers down to tuck it under his dick and—fuck, fuck—

He holds his phone in his left hand and spits into his right before bringing it to his cock to wrap around it while he reads on.

The story progresses quickly from there, the Lando and Daniel in the scene getting back to kissing frantically and undressing each other, and none of the words feel cliche. It’s almost chilling how clearly he can hear his voice and Daniel’s in the dialogue, but what’s most concerning is that the more he reads, the faster his hand goes.

In the story, Daniel takes Lando’s erection in his hand and kisses him silly while Lando fucks into his grip, and Lando tries to follow suit, so caught up in what he’s reading that he finds himself feeling like his hand isn’t his own, like it’s Daniel’s instead, and by the time this imagined Lando finally spills all over his own belly, Lando’s own real-fucking-life orgasm is ripped out from him, and he’s coming all over his own hand, matting down his pubes with how much jizz there is that’s still coming out in small little spurts from his dick.

He drops his phone, now that he’s spent and boneless on his couch. His right hand is gross and he doesn’t even have any tissues nearby, so he has to settle for taking his shirt off to mop up his mess.

He’s sated and sleepy, but then the shame starts to creep in, except that his phone starts to ring, and—Jesus Christ, speak of the devil—he sees that Daniel is calling him.

It’s with shaky hands that he retrieves his phone from the carpet, and it’s with a shakier voice that he answers it.

“Heya, Lando,” Daniel says. “D’you wanna meet up for dinner tonight? I just got back to Monaco and I’m jonesing for that rotisserie place we went to last time.”

Lando exhales, now that post-nut clarity has started to suffuse his brain with rationality from the comedown.

“Yeah, Danny, I’m in,” Lando replies. “I can pick you up at 6:30?”

“Super,” Daniel replies. “It’s a date!” And then ends the fucking call.

Christ. He has no idea how he’s going to face Daniel tonight after what he just did.

#lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #ao3 my beloved please come back to us safely #nessefftea #does it count as dando if he gets off to dando fic? maybe #mention of carlando briefly

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underratedandoverit · 1 year ago

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Talk So Sweet

1,1k words chuck taylor/kip sabian

set in 2019 after aew dark episode 10 where chuck did commentary and we had a match between kip and kenny omega

like listen chuck cant just casually call kip "a cutie" and not leave me with brain worms, like thats fucking illegal lmao

no warnings for this, kip just says fuck once cause it was too funny. its just very fluffy and fun otherwise ~

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate @ss-trashboat

on ao3

---------------------------

He wasn’t really thinking of anything, let alone the consequences, as Kip stomped through the hallways backstage, phone in one hand and the other balled into a fist tight enough to make it hurt. His eyes scanned the name labels on the locker rooms he passed by, trying to locate the very specific one that had put him in this mood that he wasn’t quite able to pinpoint down to what it was though.

Kip could have said he was angry, humiliated, maybe even betrayed? He could have used all of those words, but at the same time none of them felt exactly correct, which was honestly making him feel even worse. So much so in fact, that he had to do something about the situation at hand.

He finally stopped in front of a locker room door, huffing and puffing a little as Kip steadied his breathing, giving the door a firm knock before he could think about it further, before the regret of him getting this far could potentially settle in. He could hear a familiar voice calling from the other side of the closed door, Kip almost flinging the door open with his free hand as soon as he registered that the man he was looking for was on the other side of it.

“Chuck Taylor what the fuck did you say about me?!”

Kip didn’t even think about the possibility of someone else being in the locker room until he was inside of it, eyes locking onto the man he had come out to seek as soon as Chuck registered in his view, sitting on the couch as his eyes widened as Kip’s suddenly raised voice. Much to Kip’s relief though the room was empty apart from Chuck, by some small miracle his friends had decided to head out moments before Kip burst in.

“I-I didn’t say anything?” Chuck looked at him confused, hands raised up slightly in a defensive manner, wide eyes staring back at Kip as the Brit marched up to him, stopping to stand in front of the couch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Chuck watched as Kip snorted loudly at him before lifting up his phone, fumbling around with it for a second before he turned the screen back towards him. Chuck’s brows furrowed a bit, him trying to make sense of the video on screen, it looking like any old match he had seen on Dark in the past couple of weeks, except this one seemed to include Kenny Omega alongside Kip himself.

“This! What the fuck did you say during this match!”

It slowly dawned on Chuck what Kip was talking about, watching the Brit’s thumb click down the volume button of his phone, Chuck’s own voice reaching his ears through the phone’s speaker.

“I’ll tell you this… This Kip Sabian’s a cutie but he seems like a turd of a person.”

“Is it the bad tattoos or just the bad attitude?” Excalibur’s voice clearly cut in, Chuck on the video letting out a quiet, nervous chuckle. “It’s a little bit of both. I don’t like his accent.”

Kip pulled the phone back to himself before Chuck could say anything, clearly huffing again in disbelief. Chuck fiddled with his hands, clearly uncomfortable, suddenly avoiding eye contact with the other man.

“I’m… Sorry I don’t like your accent.”

Kip inhaled deeply, from the corner of his eye Chuck seeing his hand almost shaking with how hard he was squeezing the phone in it. Wrong answer, he would assume.

“No, what you said before that!”

“…I’m sorry you have a shitty personality?”

Kip bit his lip, wiping a hand over his face in clear frustration. Chuck blinked at him blankly a few times, trying to process what was happening.

“No, before that! The part where you called me cute!”

It took a moment for both of them to register what Kip was talking about; for Chuck to realize that he had actually said all that out loud and Kip to finally figure out it had been Chuck to actually say such a thing. Chuck could see a faint color of red climb up to Kip’s cheeks, the Brit all of a sudden too shy to look him in the eye as he turned away, finding the rest of the locker room much more interesting than him.

“Th-that part,” Kip mumbled, quickly stuffing the phone into the pocket of his jeans, still refusing to look back at Chuck, who slowly blossomed into a little smile as he stood up from the couch, getting face to face with Kip on the same level finally.

“The cute part?” Chuck confirmed with him, watching as Kip nodded, still not looking directly at him. Chuck could feel the heat coming off his face as he reached a hand towards it, slowly turning Kip to look back at him, the Brit’s eyes slowly widening as he spotted Chuck just smiling at him. “Yeah… Yeah, I meant that. I think you’re a cutie.”

Kip opened his mouth to respond, only to close it right afterwards, every single word he had planned on saying to Chuck’s face completely disappearing from his mind. Kip had gotten so heated up hearing Chuck talk about him on commentary that it hadn’t really fully settled in what he had actually said until this very moment, that every plan Kip had come around here with was fleeing his mind at the speed of sound, leaving him nothing but a red hot face and a heartbeat slamming against his brain between his ears.

“I’m sorry about your personality though,” Chuck chuckled at him, Kip still coming short in the response department. Chuck took this as a good sign though, as at least Kip wasn’t actively yelling at him anymore. “And I do like your accent. It makes you even cuter.”

“S-shut up.” Kip tried to look away again, the hold Chuck having of his face keeping him steadily in place though. Chuck smiled at him, shaking his head a little. “How about you shut up for a change?”

Kip didn’t have time to respond to him as Chuck leaned closer, pressing his lips against Kip’s in a slow, soft kiss, putting a clear, true meaning behind all the things Chuck had just told him. If Kip didn’t already have his mind empty from all the retorts he could get back at him with, he was surely out of words now, only being able to slowly respond back to the kiss as he could feel Chuck gently pulling him closer by his chin.

#fic #character: kip sabian #character: chuck taylor #ship: chuckkip #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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cyborg-franky · 2 years ago

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Hmmm what about our best bird Marco for either 2 or 19 from list B? (´ ᴗ｀✿)

I very much enjoyed this one and I hope you do too my darling <3

Marco x GN Reader SFW Modern AU Prompt: Summer fling that ended up more Word Count: 669

You’d been dragged out on vacation with your friends, a messy breakup had you wanting to spend your summer hidden away from everyone, you just wanted to be in your room and alone. Your friends had more than insisted on you coming with them.

And honestly? So far it was fun. Every night you guys would go to the pool, the beach, or go on adventures. Nice food, good drinks and you hadn't laughed this much in ages. It was doing your heart the world of good.

One night you’d wanted a little alone time, just wanting to be left with your thoughts. Walking across the sand barefoot, listening to the waves crash, feeling the cool breeze that rolled in with the waves as you stared into the darkness.

You’d seen him sitting down on the sand, a bottle of beer in his hand as he watched the ocean, he seemed lost in his own thoughts until he caught you from the corner of his eye, his lips tugged into a smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, the tone was casual like you'd always known one another.

“Hey,” you waved back and made a few cautions steps closer to the man.

“Want a beer?”

You looked around, there were people around, dotted along the beach, the busy cocktail bars still teaming with life. You could sense he was a good person, his half-lidded eyes and lop-sided smile were comforting. Not to mention he was cute.

“I’m Marco,” he introduced himself as he opened another bottle of beer and handed it to you.

You replied with your name, taking the bottle and sipping it, enjoying the taste as you got comfortable on the sand, staring out at the waves, peering into the horizon.

“You look like someone with a lot on your mind yoi.” Marco said and you nodded.

Something about Marco was nice, pleasant in fact. You spent all night talking, laughing, and getting to know each other. You shared things you’d never dream of telling a random person, Marco just had that vibe about him, that you could trust him and he’d never judge.

The sun started to come up by the time you’d stopped talking. You watched the sun rise together, drank all his beers, and exchanged so many laughs.

When he reached out to help you up, when his hand touched yours you felt a spark. The way he would smile at you, his lingering touches always nice and never threatening. Maybe you needed a summer fling? A little romance to chase away the shadows the last person in your life had cast over you.

–

Each night you’d sneak away from your friends and meet Marco –who had also ditched his friends– at the beach. Tonight something was different, he’d taken your hand as you walked side by side with him. You held his hand tightly, giving him a smile.

“This week has been fun, I really like you,” Marco said as he turned to you, his hands holding yours, his thumb gently caressing yours.

“Yeah I’ve had a great time and ye-yeah I feel the same, I don’t want to go home tomorrow..” you mumbled and felt Marco pull you closer, slipping his hands from yours.

You felt his hands cup your face, guiding you onto your tiptoes and you knew what he wanted, you wanted it too, closing your eyes you let Marco press his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, sweet, vaguely tasting of the pineapple you’d both shared moments ago. When he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours, hands moving from your face, resting on your shoulders.

“I thought this was just a fling but I don’t want it to end yoi.” He said and pulled away, his eyes meeting yours.

“It doesn’t have to..”

–

On your way home with your friends, sitting in the backseat and smiling at your phone screen. You’d exchanged numbers with him, your new boyfriend, and you wouldn’t wait to visit him in a few months.

#marco the phoenix #marco the phoenix x reader #one piece x you #one piece reader insert #one piece x reader #sfw #gender neutral reader #marco op #marco #marco op x reader #fushichou marco #marco x reader #marco x you #marco x you #marco x y/n #op marco x reader

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littlemissagrafina · 2 years ago

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Pumpkin Man

@comfortember Day 2. Stressed

Summary: "Aren't you supposed to be in school, Kid?" Tony asked with a frown as he answered the call.

"Nope! We have a half day today. But that's besides the point. I need your help!" Peter yelped and it instantly set off warning bells in Tony's head.

"I'm on my way. Don't move!" Tony ended the call, his suit already forming around him with Peter's location popping up to display in the HUD of his helmet as he took off.

Read on AO3

Tony woke up on Wednesday morning surprisingly refreshed despite staying in the lab late the night before. He supposed the fact that he only pulled all nighters every few weeks now as opposed to most nights had helped his sleeping habits. Who'd have thought?

He woke up and let himself laze around bed for a few minutes before getting up and ready for the day. He didn't have any scheduled meetings and there were no pressing projects, so it was a rare, truly quiet day and he took the time to enjoy his morning coffee while Friday updated him on anything she dubbed important enough.

There was a voice note that Peter left him during his patrol the previous night that Tony couldn't help but smile at after listening to. The kid spent most of it rambling on about The Churro Lady and how she'd given him both a cinnamon and sugar churro and one coated in freshly melted and still gooey chocolate.

It honestly left Tony craving a churro himself and he was just about to order a few when his phone started ringing, Peter's number and goofy contact picture displayed across the screen.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school, Kid?" Tony asked with a frown as he answered the call.

"Nope! We have a half day today. But that's besides the point. I need your help!" Peter yelped and it instantly set off warning bells in Tony's head.

"I'm on my way. Don't move!" Tony ended the call, his suit already forming around him with Peter's location popping up to display in the HUD of his helmet as he took off.

He spent the short flight (probably shorter than it would have usually been but hey, sue him, his kid needed help) with possible scenarios bouncing around his brain, each one worse than the last.

Landing in the location that Friday had pinged Peter at (a quiet street near Delmar's) Tony wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. Or we'll, he was, but it didn't make that much sense to his still panicked, adrenaline filled mind.

Ned and MJ sat practically collapsed against each other roaring with laughter, little snorts and gasps escaping each time they tried to stop which only set them off again.

The object of their amusement? Peter. Who sat criss-cross applesauce with his arms crossed… and a carved pumpkin ok his head.

As Tony's brain caught up and processed the scene in front of him, he couldn't help but let out a laugh as well and by the haunch in Peter’s shoulder, he wasn't very impressed. At all.

"Mr Stark! You're not supposed to laugh, you're supposed to help me! They're traitors!" Peter whined, flinging a hand out to point at his friends who, only just managing to smother their laughter, set off again at the image Peter made.

Tony chuckled quietly, raising his hands. "Sorry, Kid. Would the pumpkin on your head have anything to do with what I'm supposed to be helping with?"

Peter groaned, said pumpkin wobbling as he tipped his head back dramatically and flopped backwards against the pavement. Tony had the instinct to tell Peter to get off the ground (who knew how many gross diseases there were on the New York pavements) but he ignored it for the moment and instead crouched next to Peter.

He knocked on the pumpkin, catching a glimpse of brown curls through the cut out eyes. There was an inaudible mumble from inside the squash so Tony knocked again.

"What was that, Mr Pumpkinman?"

Peter grumbled. "It's stuck."

Tony had to smother his laugh, but figured it was safe to grin since he was pretty sure that Peter couldn't see his face at this angle.

"And why, exactly, do you have a pumpkin stuck on your head?"

There was a sigh from inside the pumpkin. "Because it was sitting out with a Halloween display at Delmar's and he said that I could have it since they were taking it down tomorrow."

Tony hummed thoughtfully. "And your next logical thought was to stuff your head inside it?"

Peter was silent, only Ned and MJ's giggles heard on the surprisingly quiet street.

"...yeah." Peter reluctantly admitted and Tony didn’t have to see his face to know that he was pouting.

Deciding to take mercy on him, Tony stood from his crouched position, ignoring the popping sound his one knee made and hoisting Peter up with him. Activating his gauntlet, he warned Peter to keep still before carefully slicing the pumpkin open until he was able to slide it off.

Peter was still pouting when his face was revealed, a fee pumpkin guts stuck to his face and hair.

"One more question," Tony grinned, "Why didn't you just use your spidey powers and break it off?"

Peter stared at Tony, then at Ned and MJ who, yet again, all started laughing at him.

"Oh."

It was needless to say that Tony's day didn't turn out quite the way he thought it would, but he wouldn't change it for a second. Minor stress attack and all.

#peter parker #tony stark #comfortember 2022 #comfortember #comfortember day 2. stressed #ned leeds #michelle jones #mj #irondad #spiderson #fanfiction #iron man #spiderman

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crazyotakugal · 3 years ago

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Soaring Hearts

Hawks/Keigo Tamaki x Reader Fluff Lemon

Authors Notes:

Thank y’all so much for all the support!! I’m so glad you enjoyed the story and like I said, here’s part Two!! I hope y’all enjoy!!

It’s been almost a month since your “encounter” with the Number Two Hero. You’ve been catching up with your family, seeing the sights, and wondering about your meet up with Hawks. Of course, you haven’t told anyone about meeting Hawks and the events that followed. However, there’s always the unexpected…

Part Two:

CHANCE ENCOUNTERS

“ Come on, y/n! You gotta check out this place next!” Your cousin, Fuyumi, waved you over to yet another sweets shop.

It was a nice day today and Fuyumi had the day off, so she decided to take your sight seeing/shopping. The district was actually really cool and had a variety of different shops, but you really didn’t have much money to spend. Since your dad ditched you, things have always been tight. If your uncle, the number one Hero, had not paid for your trip, you wouldn’t have been able to visit. However, you’d never tell your family about your financial situation.

“Oooohhh!! They have that awesome cake and milk tea!! Let’s get some!” Fuyumi grabs your hand and starts to drag you into the shop.

“Umm, Fuyumi, maybe we should slow down?” You really couldn’t afford it, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Oh no worries! Dad’s covering everything today! He insisted!” She beamed.

“Uuuuhhh…” You were at a lost for words.

You just decided to go along with it and allowed yourself to be dragged along. Despite your uncle’s attitude, he was actually a really kind person. You remember your mom calling him a monster and saying he was evil, but you just didn’t see that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Fuyumi were sitting at a table with a neon rainbow checkerboard tablecloth and a pink vase with white daisies inside. The place was really nice for being a sweets shop. It was cutesy kind of place with different kinds of teas and sweets and the atmosphere was relaxing. You just went with whatever Fuyumi ordered. She seemed to be really happy and enjoying hanging around you. To be honest, you were really having tons of fun and you were really happy you came to Japan.

Even your encounter with Hawks.

Even if it was just a fling and as much as it made your heart ache to want to see him again, you knew your best chance was on a screen versus in person. You didn’t regret spending the night with him, but you felt bad for how it ended.

~~~ FLASHBACK ~~~

It was either really late at night or very early in the morning when you had woken up. It was really dark and you were tempted to slip back into the lull of sleep. However, you had to pee really bad. Your body felt stiff and heavy. Nature calling, you rub your thighs together, feeling a sharp pain shoot between your legs, and a stickiness there.

‘Huh? Too early for my period.’

You try to shift to get up, but something was wrapped around your waist. It didn’t feel like your covers. It was warmer and heavier. As your brain slowly started to wake up, you realized the thing around your waist was connected to something heavy pressed against your back. You try to wiggle a little bit and whatever was around your waist tighten.

You felt a lump in your throat and carefully turned your head. Holding your waist was Japan’s number two pro hero! His gold locks even messier then normal and he looked absolutely breath taking asleep. You very carefully slide away from Hawks without disturbing him, gather your scattered clothing, and tippy toe into the bathroom.

After a few minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, fully clothed. You glance over at Hawks sleeping form, feeling regret for leaving like this bubbling inside you. However, you weren’t going to put yourself through that. Even though what you two had shared was amazing, you weren’t going to kid yourself into thinking that there was anything there. You wiped a few tears from your eyes and quietly left his apartment.

~~~ End F/B ~~~

“Y/n? Hey, y/n, you there?” Fuyumi is waving a hand in front of your face.

“Oh! Oh I’m sorry!” You laughed. “I guess I was spacing out.”

A waitress comes over to your table, setting down your orders and leaves with a bow. The tea smelled amazing and the cake super delicious!

“I’m sorry, Fuyumi, what were you saying?” You take a sip of the yummy tea.

She takes a bite of the cake and swallowed it, “I was saying that there’s this big charity party that dad wants us all to attend tonight and was asking you if you had a dress you could wear?!”

You choke a bit on your cake, “What?! No! Noooo! I don’t have anything to wear that fancy! I really don’t need to go, I mean I’m just his niece!”

Fuyumi makes a slight pouty face, “But you are family! It’s for the family’s of that Camino incident, so it’s for a good cause! Dad even said we could go pick out new dresses!”

You feel really uneasy about that,” That’s not necessary! Really!”

Fuyumi just smiled at you, “Really! Don’t worry about it!”

Even though you were still getting to know Fuyumi, you knew her well enough to know there was no point to arguing with her once her mind was set. You just take a bite of your cake as she beams knowing she won.

~~~~~~

After the sweets shop, you were dragged to a few clothing stores. Fuyumi found a few dresses she liked/bought, the one she finally chose for the evening was a navy blue tie back dress that had silver glitter at the hem slowly decreasing almost non existent to the waist, almost like a starburst effect. It looked amazing on her. In fact, a lot of stuff did.

You found a few things you looked for everyday wear and lingerie, which she bought you despite your protests, but nothing you felt confident in or really suited you. Finally, Fuyumi dragged you into this one store with all kinds of clothing. That’s when it caught your eye. It was an off the shoulder dress with loop sleeves, form fitting torso with lace up front. There was a satin bow at the waist, the bow resting on your hip. The skirt flared out into two layers, the top layer was sheer parted down the middle with tiny little diamonds (not real) that ruffled at the edges. The second layer was a satin material with the same diamond accents that came down to your ankles. It was your favorite color and the price wasn’t bad at all!

“Oh wow, y/n! That’s perfect! You should try it on!” Fuyumi beamed as she snatched the dress and pushed it and you towards the dressing room. A few minutes later, you came out with it on. It fit you perfectly and you couldn’t hardly believe it was you in the mirror.

“Y/n! You look beautiful!” Your cousin smiled at you, causing you to blush a little.

‘My little sparrow is so beautiful.’

You remember the last time someone called you “beautiful” and remembering that night made you turn bright red.

~~~ Later that night ~~~

Just as you thought, it was an extremely classy affair. There were ton of big time heroes there as well as a lot of influential names. You didn’t know everyone, but Fuyumi had no problem filling you in. She looked so pretty in her dress. Natsuo and Shoto of course didn’t show up. Fuyumi was squealing about all the hot and available guys at the party.

“Oh there’s dad!” Fuyumi grabs your arm and drags you over to where your uncle was.

He, of course being number one, was surrounded by a bunch of people. He looked really annoyed, but put on a front. Occasionally, shaking a hand. Once he saw Fuyumi and you heading his way, he excused himself and to meet you halfway.

“Hey, Dad! This things really great isn’t it?” Fuyumi smiles, as always, trying to be the sweet daughter.

“Fuyumi. Y/N. You’re both looking very nice this evening.” He gave a tiniest, quickest smile.

Fuyumi beamed at the compliment and gave even a little twirl. A waiter came by and offered you three a colorful drink in a tall glass with a cherry on top. Endeavor declined, but you two each took one and thanked him.

“Um, Uncle, thank you very much for the dress,” You bowed, careful not to spill your drink.

“Hey there, Number one! You sure are popular!” A familiar voice rang, making your heart stop.

You lift your head up, to see none other than Hawks standing next to your uncle, with his hand on his shoulder with his usual grin on his face. He, like the other pro heroes there, was wearing his typical attire.

“Ugh, Hawks, let me introduce you to my daughter, Fuyumi, and my niece visiting abroad, Y/N,” Endeavor holds a hand out gesturing your way causing your heart to stop.

‘Don’t be dumb, Y/N! It was a one night stand! He probably doesn’t even remember you!’

Hawks smiles at Fuyumi warmly, gently taking her hand, but there’s a split second of surprise and recognition when his eyes turn towards you. Your breath catches in your throat as he smiles, takes your hand into his, and brings it to his lips. You feel your face turn bright red.

“Nice you meet you, Y/n,” He says with a subtle hint of sarcasm. He was acting like you’d just met, but he definitely recognized you.

“Oh my God! Is that the number one and number two pro heroes together!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

Fuyumi grabbed your hand and hurried away so you two weren’t caught in the poparatzi fire. You glanced back at Hawks, who was still looking at you as you were being led away. The crowd of reporters encircled the two heroes.

~~~~~~~~~

After the craziness with the reporters, you’d lost sight of Hawks. You’d spent the rest of the evening being dragged around by your cousin, talking, eating, and drinking. It was actually lots of fun. You got to meet a lot of new people and eat a lot of delicious food.

A little tipsy, needing some air, you excused yourself from your cousin who honestly was too engrossed in talking to this guy to notice you leave. You found a quiet place in the outside garden. The cool air felt nice on your hot skin and the scent of the flowers around you was relaxing. You sat on a bench by a fountain, closed your eyes, and took a few deep breaths. As you started to cool down, the breeze was starting to make you shiver a little.

Suddenly something soft and warm is placed on your shoulders. Your eyes shoot open and you see Hawks standing there with a gentle smile on his face, he’d placed his jacket over you. Seeing him so close to you, made your heart race and you felt a ping of guilt.

“Little Sparrow a bit chilly?” He reaches and brushes a stray hair from your burning face.

Hearing him say that nickname, flustered you because images of that night came flooding back. You felt the familiar spark of desire start from just that little touch. The memory of how those hands felt touching you made you shiver slightly.

“I, um, I…” You stutter out.

He tilts his head slightly, “hmmm?”

You bow low, “I’m so sorry! About leaving like that I mean!”

Embarrassed you ramble on, “It’s just, um, I’ve never done that type of thing. Not saying I regret what happened, but…I didn’t know what to expect afterwards and panicked and…I’m so sorry I left and didn’t say anything…”

You’re afraid to look up, but a gentle hand on your chin, turned your gaze upwards to meet his. Those wonderful lips of his gently covering your own. At first it starts slow, but then gradually becomes more passionate. One hand wraps around your waist as the other cups the back of your neck, keeping you in place. His tongue sweeps over your lips and you grant him access to your mouth without hesitation. All the desire from that night reawakening as that kiss makes you melt.

When your lips finally part, both his hands cup your cheeks bringing your face forward so your forehead was resting against his. Your noses almost touching, both your eyes shut, and you both a panting for breath. Just from that kiss, you could tell that you probably were already soaked down there. Your eyes locked when you opened them. Desire burning so brightly behind his gold orbs.

You looked so beautiful to him right now. The dress you were wearing was absolutely amazing on you, your lips were red and swollen from his assault, and your cheeks were flushed. That morning, he felt sad that you had left and he hadn’t gotten your name or info. That night has been fantastic and he didn’t know what it was about you, but he just felt so drawn to you. Sure, he’d had experience with women and had some fun in his younger years. Despite the rumors about him, he didn’t go around jumping from woman to woman. That was way too risky for one, but shallow one night stands weren’t his thing.

“Y/N,” He breathed before kissing you again. His hands starting the explore your body over your dress.

“H…Hawks!” You gasp as his lips start placing kisses down your neck. Hearing your name from his lips completely overwhelmed you with need.

His arms lift you up bridal style and he flies up high onto a balcony. The door’s unlocked and Hawks carries you into the dark room. It looked like someone’s office, there were shelves with all kinds of books, a couple of couches by a fireplace, and a large wooden desk.

Hawks carries you over and gently lays you down on one of the couches, his jacket acting like a pillow, and leans over you. His lips once again taking yours captive. He uses one arm to support his weight above you as the other slides up your leg bunching the skirt of your dress higher and higher. You gasp against his mouth when you feel his fingers press against the damp cloth between your legs.

“Oh!” You toss your head back as his fingers slowly start to circle the wetness there.

“I see my lovely sparrow is still so sensitive,” he murmurs as he kisses your shoulder, his fingers dipping beyond your soaked panties.

“Keigo!” You cry out and you feel Hawks shutter above you, feeling how wet you already were for him and already crying his name.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. He gets up off of you, you hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone and the sound of rustling clothing. You give a surprise squeal as you feel your panties being pulled off you. Hawks pushes your skirt all the way up to your waist and settles himself between your legs. Before you can say anything, he sheaths himself into you with one thrust. You can feel him fill every part of you, once again stretching you.

“Ahhh!” Your body shudders as you cum just from the sensation of him utterly filling you.

“Did my sparrow just cum from me just putting it inside?” He says with a cocky tone as he starts to move, “You really are made for me! Fuck! You feel so good!”

You dig your nails into his clothed back as your rocked into ecstasy. You look up at Hawks; his face twisted with pleasure and his beautiful red wings completely spread out above the two of you. Your tangle your fingers in his blond hair and bring his lips crashing down onto yours.

The sounds of moans and slapping skin fill the room.

“You’re so hot and wet! It’s like heaven inside you!” He breaths, never halting his thrusts, “God Sparrow, you’re taking me so wonderfully. You’re just the perfect fit!”

You start to feel that wonderful familiar knot start to build again. Hawks thrusts start getting a little rougher and deeper. A film of sweat covering both your bodies. His length hitting the entrance of your womb over and over again. The pleasure is just as intense as before that you feel your mind slipping away.

“Keigo! I’m gonna…oh God! I’m gonna!” You sob out, feeling yourself about to tumble down that peak any moment.

Hawks grabs your hips in his hands and pounds into you mercilessly. He burned the vision of you in his mind. Your h/c spilled all over as your head thrashes about, you withering underneath him with absolute bliss plastered on your face, and those lovely lips of yours swollen, parted, quivering as you start to reach your peak. That lovely dress of yours bunched at your hips giving him a wonderful view of himself being swallowed by your lovely pussy.

“Y/n, cum for me! That’s it! Cum for me sparrow!” He urges, pushing his hips against that spot a few times, his cock hitting your cervix, before you finally tumble over.

“KEIGO!” You scream, tossing your head back as your orgasm hits you. You cling to the couch as it washes you over. He holds his grip on your hips as he pounds you.

Hawks loses it when he feels you clamp down onto him, cumming around his cock. Your hot fluids gushing all over him. A few sloppy thrusts later, he’s calling out your name as he fills you to the brim. Another climax hits you as feel his dick twitching and filling you. You both lay there, panting afterwards.

You both hold each other on the couch, bodies still connected. Hawks still breathless, placing occasional kisses on your shoulder. He didn’t want to leave your warmth yet. After a few more minutes of holding you, mumbling soothing words, Hawks slips from your depths. He watches as your combined fluids seep from your opening slightly and catches your soft whimper once he left you.

Hawks sits up and gathers you in his lap, holding you to his chest. You smelt amazing. Like a sweet dessert. Your h/c was soft and your skin as well. It felt so nice holding you like this. You laid your head on his chest and gave into him holding you. His fingers gently stroking your hair. You didn’t want to be parted from him yet. You wished time would freeze and you two could stay like this. He smelt like rain. His warmth radiating from his body into yours. You feel a bit of sleepiness come over you.

“We should go before someone comes in and we get in trouble for staining their expensive couch,” Hawks whispers in your ear, bringing a bright red blush to your face.

You get up on your unsteady legs and straighten yourself up. You look around, a bit panicked, for your panties that you’d been wearing, but couldn’t see where Hawks had tossed them too. Your face turned bright red thinking how horrifying it would be if someone found them.

“Looking for something?” Hawks smiles at you, holding the bunched up lace garment in his hand.

“H…hey!” You feel your face burn even hotter. “Give those back!”

You go to try to snatch your panties from his hand, but of course he’s too fast for you and easily dodges. You go to try and grab them again, but this time he catches your wrist, pulling your body against his.

He smiles down at you, giving you a playful wink,”Consider these my hostage so you don’t go disappearing on me again.”

You make a pouty face at him and playfully punch him in the chest. He simply laughs it off.

His lips brush yours as he stuffs the material into his jacket pocket and lifts you up again. He effortlessly leaps down the balcony, safely with you to the ground. He gently sets you down on your feet. You feel his hand cover yours then sliding something between your fingers. It was his card, but at the bottom was a hand written phone number. You look up at him again and he reaches to brush a hair from your face. You looked absolutely adorable at that moment, looking up at him with big, questioning eyes.

“I don’t usually give out my personal number, but I’m willing to make an exception for you my sparrow,” He grins, ” However, now that I know you’re related to the big guy, I can easily hunt you down too.”

You give him a look and mumble under your breath, “You can try.”

He’s taken aback for a moment, then bursts into laughter. You were just too cute. He couldn’t help himself, wraps an arm around your waist, and kisses you deeply before he finally steps away from you.

He flaps his wings and takes off a few feet into the air. Small red feathers raining down all around you.

“Until I see ya around, Y/N!” He grins before taking off into the air. Leaving you looking up at the night sky as he disappears.

~~~~~~~~~~

So that’s it for part two!! Thank y’all so much and I’ll be working on part three soon. :D

#hawks #my hero academia #bnha #anime #hawks x reader smut #hawks x reader fluff #hawksxreader #bnha hawks #keigo tamaki x reader smut #keigo tamaki x reader #keigo tamaki #keigo tamaki x reader fluff

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years ago

Text

Middle Of The Night: Dark! Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 7 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 6: Don’t Let Me Down

Main Masterlist

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Drugs, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, Mental breakdown, attempted murder. attempted assault, injury and blood mentions.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 7K

Chapter 7: Middle Of The Night

Steve stood horrified at the prospect of having his good friend and ex-girlfriend Sharon be the supreme villain here. He genuinely believed they ended their fling on good terms. He remembered them parting ways from the amazing casual sex they had and other steamy encounters because she wanted out, from the violence, from all the blood. She confessed that desire to him, of not wanting to take her family’s mantle in the mob and leave the illegal trade after her dad’s inevitable death hastened due to a chronic illness.

She had made the decision of letting her brothers be crowned and had walked away with the idea of a fashion boutique and establishment, her trust fund money and whatever she got from the will. From what Steve knew, she had left this life long ago; this was before Sarah, of course.

“That-that doesn’t make any sense Tony.” Steve stammered, his hand in his blond locks and eyes wide, darting between the screens open there, the documents showing transactions and all possible evidence Tony could have gathered to prove his point.

“Well, everything is right in front of you, Cap. From what I have gathered, she has been back in the scene since a few months. She sold half her company and has decided to retrace her steps behind to the family business. It was a surprise that even Pepper didn’t know about the sale, considering she put up the façade of being her best friend and Maid of Honor.” Tony shook his head in mock disappointment, taking a drink of his liquor and strolling about the space.

“But why would she go after her? And why, why would she not come to us all for support, instead go with Rumlow! That bastard of all?”

Steve look genuinely baffled, almost like a child who had been asked something out of his syllabus and has been left to his own wit for answering. He really prided himself on being well-versed about everything but these hard-hitting facts were something he couldn’t have conjured even in fiction.

“Wow, Capsicle, that oblivious, huh? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tony snickered. He wouldn’t admit but Steve looked really hilarious on being caught off guard. He really did wonder if blondie didn’t know about Sharon’s wittle crush.

Steve on the other hand grew exasperated, every little revelation perplexed him and he couldn’t digest it. He would’ve been able to, if his friend, just for one minute, could stop with the sarcasm.

“Sharon was head over heels for you; Pepper told me all about her weird wet dreams involving you, honestly killed my mood for a few days there.”

Steve’s head snapped up and he reeled back.

“But on a serious note, I think she planted the bugs in my home just to get a head-start after missing out on a few years. The videos are from around the date the carnival bombing happened, so nobody knew of your lady back then, not even Pepper to babble and relay. In fact, Sharon even planned to confess to you on our wedding as you both would have been our best men and maids and stuff. I don’t think she was Rumlow’s accomplice when they attacked Sarah, but I’m sure she is involved now.”

Tony moved around and opened some bank statements, on the pop-up screen, the video minimizing as he went about the proof. “They used a series of intermediate accounts for the transition but I was able to track the entire path from Rumlow’s account. The source is Sharon so there most definitely is some arrangement between them now, and most likely seems against you. Not gonna lie, I’m a little hurt over how she tried to betray me for what I assume is her romantics but I’ll let this slide, your problem is sort of bigger.”

“Tony, what about her brothers? Are all the Carters against us now? I need to know what I’m up preparing for, just her or have we lost the support from the entire family?”

“I think they aren’t happy with her returning; I mean she up and left them, thinking she was above them and now that they had tripled their profits she came back for her share. That’s why she had a lot of money this time around, enough to sponsor Rumlow, they gave her the final one-third of the lineage and cut all ties with her from what I know. So, she does not have support from her brothers because her brothers would never risk losing our alliance if they are sensible.”

That was a relief; the Carter household was not one Steve would’ve wanted to go against. They had been around since his own lineage had started. It would’ve have been one of those battles whose outcome one couldn’t predict. The victory could’ve been either’s but the bloodshed would have been both’s.

“Now onto your dearie’s location, I wasn’t able to track the call either so I don’t know for sure. One more day is what I need for that. But from what my wit could deduce, since you’ve already scoured all of Rumlow’s properties and other shady places, is that it has to be one of Sharon’s places. Her family has sixteen houses in the city, and since we don’t know which ones she got after the partition, it’s a long shot. I know the one she is in but I hardly think your girl is being kept there.” Tony fingers worked magically as the city’s map opened up and sixteen red pins showed on the screen.

“I suggest you don’t go barging in all of them or even one of them until absolutely sure cause they might move her if you give away your edge about Sharon’s involvement. They think they have the lead since you last searched Rumlow’s properties in vain.”

Steve absorbed each of his words in, and he felt relief fill him for the first time in the past couple of days. He was thankful beyond what words could express; and he had no choice but to admire his friend for performing a better job than him and pulling through. Even though there was still a lot to figure out for now; when he’d get you back safe, the credit will go to Tony. This was a favor he could never repay, much like what you did for Sarah.

Steve’s cell brought him out of his reverie, he was a millisecond close to shedding a tear and hugging Tony. His gratitude turned to wonder as he saw the name, wondering why Sam was calling. He didn’t know the reason but it must have been important.

“It’s Rogers.” Steve spoke in his usual tone when dealing with matters of the mob, the tone that demanded respect and regard.

“It’s Sam. I have some news. So I was trying to find some clues and voila! I did. I have two conclusions.”

Steve perked at that, opting to listen to his friend’s deductions and then inform him of what he learnt.

“Go ahead.” His palm pressed on the table as he leaned forward, back still as straight as it could be.

“The place she was in, the dungeon or the cell, whatever, had a brick and cement, raw sort of a wall and I realized I have seen the same basements in yours and Bucky’s homes. Turns out it was a popular pattern for basements inside houses of the forties. Since out city has gone through a lot of recent modifications, there are only about seventy of those houses in the city radius, untouched from decades.”

Steve applauded Sam for the news and asked Tony, still on the call himself, “It is one of the antique family properties. Tony, eliminate all the apartments and the new ones.”

Tony worked wonders with his fingers and replied, “That leaves six. Better.”

Sam continued, “And from the calls, I was able to separate a sound of a ship, maybe a cruise ship, in the background so it has to be one of the waterfront properties.”

God had just blessed him.

On the map, that left only one red pin. “Tony it’s that one.” Steve pointed.

“Please don’t!” You swatted away Rumlow’s hand that had managed to tear away your grimy shirt from your neck to your navel. With more of your skin on display, you felt naked as his eyes appreciated the ways your bra clung to your torso, the soft curves just inviting him to squish them. Innocent and actually pretty women were few and far between in this life.

Sure, he could always get a prostitute, but there was something you had and all of them didn’t. He would love nothing more than to rip you of the only dignity you had here, the one that will leave you empty and hollow, in an endless abyss of obscurity. That high, of destroying someone’s life, was better than any drug honestly.

He was coming to get you back, just hold on precious.

Accepting death will be easier for you then, when broken and shattered completely down to your soul; so really, he was just doing you a favour.

The ruthless man in front of you just smirked, his hand coming at the speed of light and in a moment, he had your chest pressed to the uncomfortable metal desk. He had twisted your arm and as soon as you had fallen, he reunited your limbs in his grip. You shrieked involuntarily as your cheek flattened against the unforgiving metal and as he twisted your wrists to make you yield.

“C’mon, would it really be ‘The Brock Rumlow’ if I don’t have a taste of Roger’s pussy? Your eyes and ass are begging me to test that cunt.” He ugly snickered, his voice a baritone.

You felt pathetic; just a day ago you were planning of ‘buying Steve time’ and ‘figuring out a way’, and now you were bent over the desk, in the exact position this criminal wanted you. You felt degraded being labelled as someone’s property and about to be used as a toy, more so for a sick man’s pleasure.

Your tears blurred your vision as tried to breathe, trying to stay conscious. You didn’t want to lose your senses and leave your body to his rough, unkind hands but the question was, did you really want to stay awake to experience this? Your rape?

The index of his free hand slid down your spine and to the waist of your lowers, snapping the elastic there, the recoil of it stinging. His palm pressed there as he gripped your waist in an unrelenting grip; he didn’t care about your well-being and it showed in the way he handled you. His caress was not welcomed but it was there, his scent engulfed your senses just as snugly as his body had you.

You mumbled your God’s name, praying so that they might save you. Your faith had almost broken, you didn’t deserve this nor the ensuing chaotic death. Were you reaping this because you murdered a man, took away a life?

His belt buckle’s sound made you whimper harder, your tears racing down your cheeks, so unwavering as if eager to win the sprint. Your nails dug into your palms and you swallowed, trying to let the abyss claim your senses. Anything would be better than this, than having this etched in your memory forever.

The universe didn’t allow that reprieve but fortunately, came with a better offer, a loud banging interrupting him and his deed. The door opened and you saw a man, tattooed the same as him, buff but short.

Rumlow snarled, “Didn’t I say no interruptions?!” His joy and high from violating you had been replaced by imminent rage, being interrupted during his playtime with the new toy. Seemed like his idiot men couldn’t follow even simple orders. The man didn’t even flinch at his tone but you did, already alarmed and afraid of him and what all he could do to you.

“The Johnsons showed up early for the meet. I have them in the study.”

“Fuckers. I’ll be back soon, corpse-lady, for your last gift on Earth, some awesome sex.” Rumlow grumbled curses as he adjusted his belt and his hands left yours. You didn’t move from your position; you didn’t want to face him or look at him, ever again. You lifted your head slightly and turned to press your forehead instead of your cheek on the table. Gaining control of your breathing became easier when they left and you collapsed on your knees minutes later, leaning against the nearest wall.

You could still feel his body heat, how close he held you and how surreal it all was. You were seconds away from being assaulted; no matter how much you dried your tears, they kept their flow; no matter how much you rubbed your wrists, his bruising grip scarred its memory into your tissue with all the ache it left, you felt only broken and hollow.

You snapped your head up faster than a dog’s at the heavy sound of boots scraping against the floors. Guns firing off continuously and deafening explosions startled you. Your face was still wet from when you washed it seconds ago in the dingy bathroom.

Rumlow hadn’t returned since the molesting and the guard outside took it to himself to provide you your well-deserved bathroom break.

Please Steve, save me, you’re my only hope. Get out of this hell.

Your usual fifteen minutes were far from over but the ruckus and chaos ensuing from the floor above cut your peace short. You weren’t mad though, only pumped. This building under distress, might have endangered your life to some extent you’d admit, but, but the turbulence guaranteed disruption and their disruption was a distraction, so you could something to save your ass.

If anything, this was the moment your God granted you. Not what you had imagined, but you didn’t have a lot of choices.

You pressed your ear flat against the door to hear any clue of your personal body guard. You hoped he had been called away because it did look like the chaos above would demand that. You didn’t know what was happening but you knew gunfire meant a battle above, hopefully in need of more soldiers.

“A-3 unit, outside the cell, New Guy stay guard, other two, report upstairs, now!” Since you heard no movement of the guard just outside, you assumed, the newbie was the one already with you.

It’s okay, a small misfortune. You, you can improvise, right? You looked into your reflection, a light there for the first time in days. You had been given a second chance, at life, one you couldn’t afford to waste no matter how difficult proceeding from here was. Your fists clenched as adrenaline pumped through your body, pupils dilating and a hint of optimism shining through.

You brought your fist up and punched the mirror like you’ve been wanting to do from your first day in captivity, your large image immediately breaking into a million smaller reflections. It seemed that the guard outside did manage to hear you above all the ruckus upstairs as he opened the door swiftly. Luckily, your movements had more agility than his.

You grabbed a large chunk that fell in the porcelain sink and stabbed his neck. You didn’t know how you managed to catch the man off guard but you did. He collapsed with eyes wide in fear, his hands, clutching around his neck, trying to keep the glass piece in but you pulled it out hard and fast, so the bleeding would quicken and the enemy would weaken.

You really didn’t want to murder this guy, but you were just a mother trying to make it out to protect your kid. You would always do anything if it meant the safety of Grace, no questions and now it seemed no morals either.

After all, didn’t he just stand outside hearing your pleas when Rumlow put his filthy hands on you, a millisecond close to raping you? Scum like them deserved to die.

You knew your mind was just trying to justify this murder of yours because you needed to carry on, quick and now, but maybe you knew you would hate yourself for hurting this person if you made it out of here but you decided that was a worry for your future self. Right now, in this very moment, you just wanted to make it to your future self, a person that was alive, breathing and with Grace.

Was this really what you had come to? How can you even claim to be better than these criminals if you did the same? Didn’t you just contemplate being punished because of a deed like this?

You could blame the circumstances for now but you knew, the cost of surviving, getting out of here and into the arms of your precious child would be your peace of mind. Even if the epinephrin commanded your actions, you would have to take accountability if you made out of here.

The man’s eyes fluttered open and close as he pressed on his neck and you broke out of your reverie, hands quick to the grab the gun and the transceiver at his waist.

Your hands stung as you aimed it at him, realizing now that your palm was slashed from when you struck the man and knuckles broken and raw from when you punched the mirror. You threw the electronic device at him and he glared, eyes spiteful as he held on for life.

“Call emergency for you. Nothing about me.” You hissed loudly and he heard it as clear as a day, one of his hands pathetically lifting it up.

You stepped forward, in his personal bubble, your feet between his legs as he slumped against the wall, trying to apply pressure and at the same time, communicate.

“Not another peep except that.” You aimed right at his forehead, showing you would shoot if required. It was all a façade thought, you were feigning this entire thing, trying to portray an image of a stronger lady.

You would conceal all your emotions, mask all your agony if it meant being able to nurture your kid on your own. Your hands shook, despite all this, you knew you couldn’t go back from this if you did pull the trigger.

He muttered a pitiful ‘help’ and lost consciousness, failing to give his location even for himself. A few questions were asked through the receiver but sounds of explosions from above masked them. He wouldn’t make it if they delayed.

Your subconscious led you, your mind fearing his death. You knew you were stupid, wasting time here, but you couldn’t help it as you pressed a rag from the bathroom and knotted it, applying pressure that the woozy man could not. You did this out of your own judgement, hands just moving and helping.

You ducked swiftly and got out less than a minute later, not staying long enough for the guards to witness you liberated themselves. You knew that the ruckus above would keep them distracted and would buy you some time, hopefully enough for you to get some help.

The hallways were empty and looked alike, like a maze built to confuse test rats. You didn’t enter any room, just once when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps. The man disappeared as quick as he had appeared and you carried on, hoping he’d get to the newbie and save him. You preferred not to have another death on your hands.

You were able to retrace that’s guys steps and found the concrete staircase, heart beating like a drum as you made your way upward. Everything felt crazy and you were horrified at the clatters loudening, explosives and guns firing all alike.

You ran up the flight of stairs, the gun in your hand as you tried to not get overwhelmed, not by the blood, the bullet shells and the dead bodies. There were only few in your path, and it seemed like you were in a quite an inner area, the main war commencing outside.

You ran up the floors, not knowing where you started from at the sub-ground level. The concrete steps morphing in to marble stairs covered with pretty carpet. There were surprisingly no guards and it was a huge relief that all forces went to combat; you doubted

you would have been able to use the firearm you had on you. You stopped at the floor with the pristine carpet and immaculate pillars, not because of the architecture but because the racket below was muffled considerably.

You heard shouting that managed to mask even the riot down below, your mind wondering if you should run away from here too. You certainly couldn’t leave from the main gates or some back exit because you had no idea where either of them was and you were sure you’d only manage to run into more armed soldiers.

A gun shot rang through the air and you flinched, goosebumps arising at each and every part of your body. It was a surprise how you weren’t used to it even standing in the middle of a literal war. You heard crashing and banging of furniture and porcelain maybe, a sound akin to the breaking of the bathroom mirror earlier. You tiptoed, walking over the three bodies in the corridor, staring lifelessly into you, ingraining themselves in your brain as a memory you’d definitely need therapy for.

There were definitely less people here higher up, and Rumlow’s enemy meant an ally, right? You didn’t know what you were expecting but you certainly weren’t relying on your previous thought; you couldn’t place your trust in any criminal. Your hands shook with the gun, stance alert and eyes scouring the place behind you repeatedly.

“Where is she, you motherfucker?!” Your eyes watered on hearing that; your mind quick to register the booming voice and the realization hit you. Your brain short-circuited; was this real?

Steve came.

To save you.

You peeked and saw the blond man kicking Rumlow lying beside a dead body in what looked to be a top-tier study, his knuckles red and his rival’s face sore. You cried out a shout of his name and ran inside, hands abandoning the gun as you jumped on him, tears clouding your vision. He could save you, get you away!

You could see his emotions being displayed on his face, his expressions morphing from alarm to surprise to elation. He caught you and you buried your head in his chest, his cotton shirt underneath the bloody blazer a comfort after days of unease and agitation. His hands hugged you just as firmly, one of his palms pressing your head close and tight.

You forgot everything about your history with Steve. The only thing running through your mind was hope and delight.

For a long time, rotting away in the cell, you thought you’d explode on Steve if you ever got to see him, for dragging you into this; But being so close to death, on the verge of being raped, you forgot all about the past. You didn’t care who pushed you into the pit, you only heeded who got you out. Right now Steve was the only beacon of light you could see after being in the tunnel for days.

And him being here might be the only reason that you would get to see Grace again.

He leaned and kissed the top of your head and you wondered how he wasn’t repelled by the lack of hygiene. Well, blood and corpses were way worse than the lack of a few of showering.

“So glad you’re okay. I was so worried that I was late.” He mumbled in your head and you could hear the contentment and delight in his voice. And for the first time in weeks, strangely, you felt safe.

It was weird, considering the first few weeks of your torment were courtesy of this man himself. But you had come to realize in this span of time, that the only that mattered to you was Grace’s safety. And you had to stay alive for ensuring that, you deserved a future with her. Everything else felt so meaningless now, life felt too short and your time too untrustworthy and fickle.

This was definitely the life-changing experience people talked about, although yours was a little too harsh in its delivery.

“Is Grace safe?” You whispered looking up, the tears running down as you registered you do get to meet your child again. That she wouldn’t lose her mother and you wouldn’t lose her.

“As safe as safe could be.” Steve smiled and whispered genuinely. You didn’t know why you asked him that; Grace should be at your Mom’s, but you remembered he promised to keep her safe, and how he is rescuing you now. Weirdly enough, you were reassured with his words spoken sincerely.

Your moment of glee was ruined as his eyes flickered to behind you and he jumped, taking you to the side and falling on the spotless desk.

A pain worse than anything you’ve ever experienced pierced your body and you collapsed, your knees hitting the carpet and some limb of the dead body in a pristine suit. You clutched your arm and another shot ran through the air as you whipped your head up in worry, only to relax on finding Rumlow shot between his eyes, Steve unharmed.

Steve propped down beside you, his eyes widening at blood seeping through your arm. He gently shifted your shirt to peep the wound, “You’re gonna be okay sweetheart. Just a graze. Stay strong for me, will you?” You nodded as a whimper broke through, body already fatigued and malnourished since days. You didn’t know if you could afford to lose some blood.

He helped you stand up, keeping pressure there and only then noticed your torn shirt. His eyes darkened as he looked at you in wonder, his eyes asking the question he couldn’t bring himself to.

You hiccupped as shook your head, “Not too far.” He was pleased but not too happy about it. “He’s dead, he can’t hurt you anymore, okay?” You teared up even more at that, the cruel bastard couldn’t hurt you anymore.

Steve held you gently and told you to apply pressure on your wound with your other hand and draped his expensive blazer on you.

Your eye caught a shadow in its peripheral vision and you recoiled away only to see the silhouette of Bucky later. His arm glistened in the chandelier’s light, looking more intimidating than ever. He came marching in long strides and gave you a nod, you stood confused as fuck about that.

“Done downstairs. Using the river for covering.” He pointed to the bodies on the floor there, asking permission to take them.

Steve turned and kicked dead Rumlow’s face, a crack resonating in the air. You flinched, darting your eyes away from the disfiguring of the dead body.

“Take the two. This one is some guy he was meeting with, don’t know, don’t care, dump him.”

Steve led you out and took you outside and down the stairs as you wobbled. You may have been injured in the arm, but your entire body twinged with aches and pain everywhere.

The scenery around reminded you of the carnival with the dead bodies, except there were no kids this time around, nor any innocent people and that made it better for you to digest.

You could see men, obviously Steve’s, as they went about surveying the damage of their own and the dead bodies of the foe. He led you towards a car, seating you in the back seat but slightly out the door, your feet swinging by the side of the car and left you for a minute to fetch some medical assistant under his employment. He stood and watched while you got bandaged and you relaxed for the first time since forever, despite the pain and the prodding.

You could finally go home,

Home to Grace.

You went out of consciousness a few times, mind waking up frazzled from the small nightmares but relaxing at the sight of Steve and the medic.

“Can you take me to Grace after this, Steve? I just want to see her. Is she at my Mom’s?” You asked quietly, as you looked up with round eyes. Some miniscule part of you was bizarrely glad he kept tabs on your parents; he must know if she’s safe, right?

You hoped, prayed she was safe. You felt horrible not knowing about the well-being of your own daughter. It had been days; how would you even explain your disappearance? But those worries seemed insignificant. Yeah, you vanished but you fought tooth and nail to make it back. You were proud of you; she’d be proud of you.

“She’s at mine.” He could see your eyes widen at the news, not in anger or disgust but mostly in shock and wonder. “I promised to keep her the safest and the kids are being guarded twenty-four, seven by the best, okay? Don’t worry about that right now.” He smiled as he leaned forward to caress your cheek, you subconsciously leaned into his palm and dozed off.

“Rest, we just one last thing to get done with.”

At an abrupt halt, you woke up; your eyes blinking as you made out your surroundings. You were petrified due to the lack of light but soon relaxed on seeing Steve’s face in front of you. You gathered you were leaning against a car door, lying with your feet propped up and resting on Steve’s lap who sat beside you.

You remembered this being the car Steve dropped you home in on your date. That now seemed like a century ago. You tilted your head to see Bucky in the driver seat, checking his phone. “These is the address.”

Kissing your forehead, he went away.

“Hmm, doesn’t seem that guarded. I can make out like maybe three silhouettes?” Steve answered looking out the window, hands mindlessly massaging your feet.

“Tony says she is laying low. Pepper only saw two guards the day she visited.”

You sat up, bending your legs out of Steve’s lap. Your arm was still sore, it hurt more as you shifted. Steve’s head snapped at your movement just now realizing you were awake. You peeped out from the window behind him, not recognizing where you were at. The houses around were spaced and distant, quite unlike the part of the city both of you resided in.

“Where are we? Please take me home, I have no energy.” You mumbled quietly, not knowing what was happening.

“Soon, this is very important sweetheart. How is your arm though? Does it hurt still or are the med working? Can you walk?” Steve asked one after the other, face plastered with concern.

“It’s sort of numb, a little ache, I guess. My feet hurt though.” You shook your head, “um sorry, what are we doing again? I don’t understand-”

“You’ll soon see.” Steve cut you off as he opened the door and slid out. He kept it open, waiting for you. Confused, you scooted over, to his side and squealed loudly as he gathered you in his arms, hauling you up like a groom does a bride. You looked at him baffled and he seemed to relish in it. You wondered if you trusted him a bit too soon. You deemed him as your saviour but was he really one?

You couldn’t stepdown because your feet were bare and the road risky. You weren’t lying though; they did hurt and walking would have been hard.

Steve and Bucky, along with you in his arms, walked up the steps of the private property, a nice sized modern house. You heard a sound beside you, all too familiar, realizing late that Bucky cocked a gun and ran forward. You hid in Steve’s chest as two bangs ran through the air, your mind flooding all the memories back, from the carnival to the literal war you witnessed.

After a moment of silence, you opened your eyes and looked around to find two bodies on the ground beside the house’s door. You hadn’t even made out people standing near the house, even though they were buff and hard to miss.

Bucky led ahead as he shot the lock and broke the door and Steve followed. You couldn’t process anything; what could literally be more important than taking you home after what all happened?

The inside of the house was much richer and fleeker than the outside, everything digital and pricey. The floors were primeval and beautiful, the work on the walls amazing.

“What the fuck?” A woman’s voice came and a second later she appeared into view; you blanched.

Her eyes widened in shock and yours did too, in horror and disgust more than anything else. She had a gun in your hand, probably alarmed by the ruckus, her hair disheveled and eyes calculating.

“Steve?” She mumbled your name too but you didn’t care enough to hear. All you could see was red; you wanted to hurt this bitch, make her suffer.

“Oh my god, Is she okay?! Let me help her!” She stepped forward, seeing the bandages and the blood on them but Steve’s voice sent her back.

“You think you can just pretend now? You think we’re here for help?” Steve let out a mock chuckle. “I know everything. Why would you?” Steve looked genuinely hurt; you could hear the pain in his voice.

In your fatigue, you had failed to reveal the traitor to Steve. You passed out before you could have exposed her. Turns out, he knew though. Maybe he was smarter than you gave him credit for.

“What are you talking abo-”

“You bitch! How could you?” Your thoughts voiced themselves, leaving everyone surprised, even you. You had never lashed out but what better time than now?

“What have I ever done to you?” A sob broke through your throat, “You have ruined me. That man, he, he almost raped me! My child would have been orphaned, all because of your slutty desires! You’ll rot in hell.” Your dehydrated self produced salty tears that slid down, mind mushy and filled with rage. How could she act so innocent and non-chalant after everything? She put a price on your head and you didn’t even know her.

Sharon’s eyes widened and she looked at Steve. One look at him and she understood everything was out and she was caught. Her façade dropped in an instant. Her wide eyes that were trying to seem guiltless sharpened and the look on her face changed.

“No need pretending now, huh?” She bitterly laughed. “Steve, I did it for you; how can you be so blind to not see it? I hated this life, but I’m compromising, I’m back here for you! Only to find you’ve picked up another pathetic whore from the streets.”

“Don’t say another word about her!” At Steve’s loud voice, everyone in the room flinched. You could almost see the fumes over his head.

“She blows you that good, huh?”

“You partnered with the fucker who attacked Sarah. You must be fucked in the head to think that is acceptable in any way; you claimed to be my friend! And you risked her life, just cause I liked her? Get over your crush, you bitch, I have never felt anything for you and that would never change. You’ve always been worthless; I just took too long to realize that.”

“It was a one-time arrangement, never to harm Sarah. And would someone with a little crush go to this extent for you Stevie? I have given my heart to you and you’ve destroyed me. I have left everything behind, my aspirations and my family and you, you are calling me worthless?” She bitterly laughed, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to keep her voice even.

“I want to hurt you just as badly. Maybe even worse.” She quietly said.

A shot rang in the air and you flinched.

Everything after that happened in an instant, you were slow to register it all.

Sharon ended her line with the gun aimed at you. You couldn’t move as she flexed her fingers to shoot. You were caught off guard.

Luckily, Steve was not.

He anticipated her actions by her choice of words, cause he knew even Sharon was aware she was not getting out of here alive. He thought she would be attempting to kill him. But she didn’t; she wanted him to truly suffer. And when she couldn’t bring her to possibly harm him physically, she decided to him psychologically.

His time in the field and the army had made him more vigilant than the majority of people, certainly more than a woman who was an amateur compared to him.

So Steve had retrieved his gun from his waistband and shot her hand yielding the gun before she could have pulled the trigger. Sharon dropped her gun, her other hand shooting to press the to relieve the pain, much like you did earlier today to your wound. The wound she caused.

Your breathing quickened; you shook once again. It seemed like your trauma itinerary for today hadn’t ended. You had barely made it, barely escaped misfortune thrice today. Your rape once and your attempted murder twice.

Steve came beside and you looked down, sensing movement as he placed his gun in your hands. “Finish this.”

You couldn’t register anything, what did he mean, end this? Was he expecting you to-

“No, I can’t.” You reeled back but he held your wrist, clutching your fingers in his grip around the gun.

“I see it in your eyes, you want to hurt her. She deserves this.” He came behind you, helping you aim directly at her. Were you really about to do this?

He dropped his hands but stood close, your hands propped in the position he had left you.

You did want her to hurt, to suffer. She had traumatized you for life, preyed on your vulnerability, just out of jealousy. Even if you tried to somewhat empathize with her, it was all inexcusable. She was ready to cripple you, and by extension, your child too. How could she even think about doing that to your sweet Grace?

Did all her deeds warrant death though? Did she really deserve to die for this?

She had ordered your death without any hesitation though; she was just as bad as the other lot of mobsters, if not worse. Was a heartbreak really worth dying for though? It should be if it was worth killing for.

Your hands lowered slightly, a whimper escaping at the pain that shot through it. Your wound had started bleeding again, the meds not numbing it anymore. You looked at Sharon whose body was twisted in pain, as she looked at you wondering if you’d actually do it.

The gun at her feet was with Bucky now, so that she wouldn’t pull any more tricks on them.

Steve helped your hands again, propping them up, his warm chest hugging your back as his arms covered yours, supporting them. His face was close to yours as he whispered, “Think of everything you would have lost: Your life, your future, all because of this woman.” He spoke with utter disgust.

“You very nearly raped because of her. Got shot because of her. And even after all that, she pretends to be your ally, to help, thinking all of us were dumb. She planned to take away your future, a future with me.”

He was somehow saying everything you needed to hear, all facts with no fabrication. This all did happen, and all because of her. A sob broke through as your eyes blurred, and you were in a dilemma. You could never recover from this if you did shoot her, but you can never recover from the days of agony and misery either, the nightmares subscribed to you already.

Steve’s fingers now held the trigger with you, guiding you through it. Why did he have to make you do this? He could get this done with but no, he decided it was your kill for whatever reason. You couldn’t even kill the guard who watched you get assaulted for hell’s sake.

The longer you stared at her blurry form, the more it worsened her case. The part of you not wanting to kill was getting overpowered, a montage of everything going through your head. God, you could still fell Rumlow’s hands on your body and his crude compliments.

“But you would forgive her for that, I know you would. May take some time, a lot of it maybe, it’s how you are built, aren’t you?”

You were surprised at that, how he somehow read you. He wasn’t entirely right but not wrong either. Every sin was atonable, right?

“But realize you would have also lost Grace.” You froze, his hands holding the gun with you. Both of yours fingers so close to the trigger and yet neither pressed it.

“She took away your future with Grace. You would have lost Grace and she would have lost you, her mama.”

That did it. Through your blurry vision, you could see her silhouette fall on the floor, a puddle of rouge around.

You did really do it, didn’t you?

Steve guided you, helped you aim but who pressed the trigger? You collapsed on your knees, as Steve cradled you to his chest. Everything hurt so bad, your arm, your head, your chest. You felt suffocated and disgusted and torn. Where was the contentment your brain promised you?

The palette of emotions was too grueling for you to process, everything from shades of exhaustion to hues of torment attacked you. You had passed out, trying to forget what happened, to ignore it.

Your conscience still knows what happened that day, in that moment but the world will never know, if it was you who fired at her own will or the feared mobster who just wanted to stain your innocent hands to weave both your lives together, to get the angel with the devil.

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realcube · 4 years ago

Text

haikyuu!! boys dating you for a bet then falling hcs 💘

characters: oikawa, kuroo & osamu

tw// angst to fluff, swearing, sexual references - minor dni!

OIKAWA’S AND KUROO’S ARE AGED UP !

thank you anon for this request 😚

Tōru Oikawa

everyone on the team was teasing him for getting broken up with bc he was ‘too obsessed with volleyball’

he had finally had enough and made a bet with iwaizumi, matsukawa and hanamaki that he could get a s/o quicker than any of them

they accepted ofc but that’s when oikawa learned that hanamaki was already talking to a girl he liked which meant that it was a race against time for oikawa to find someone to date

in reality, he had no interest in dating atm but he had to do this for the sake of his pride

he settled on asking you out bc you were his lab partner for chemistry and even before the bet, he was making playful flirtatious banter with you but it’s not like he had any real feelings for you which meant that breaking up with you afterwards would be simple..right?

also, asking you out would be an easy win

and it was 🤠

oikawa won the bet and regained some confidence which meant he was now free to break up with you

buuuut y’all had only just started dating so he didn’t want to break up with you before the first date so he postponed the break up until after y’all went to the movies together

then the night came - he had just came back home for your first date at the movies, he took you to see an alien invasion movie and you said you loved it

he stared at his phone which was open on IMessage, on your contact; his fingers hovered over the keypad but the words didn’t come to him the way he expected

the more he thought about, he realised that you guys hadn’t even had your first kiss yet and he wanted to give you a sweet memory to leave you with before he inevitably dumped you so he decided to postpone the break-up again, until you guys had your first kiss

and since his messenger was open, he invited you on a second date to the park where you had your first kiss over a shared cone of vanilla ice-cream

honestly, he had such a great time on the date that in the moment, he completely forgot about the fact he had to break-up with you so here he was again, sitting on his bed and looking down at his phone glumly as he searched his brain for the right words to say

but when he allows his mind to wonder for too long, it always comes back to one thing

so figured that he’d hold off breaking-up with you until your first time and from there — depending on how good you are — he’ll decide whether he wants to dump you or keep you around just as a side fling

the day eventually came three months later, not that he was complaining though as he’s developed a lot more patience since he’s started dating you

you had just came back from a date at the bowling alley and something about seeing Oikawa in bowling shoes and a partially unbuttoned shirt was enough to make you go feral so as soon as you arrived at his house, y’all went for it

in all honesty, sex with you just hit different for oikawa

it was nothing like he’s ever experienced before

like it was kind, sensual and filled with mutual praise and he truthfully never wanted it to end but once it did and he was sprawled out on the bed next you, breathing heavily with your fingers intertwined, he realised that he didn’t want to break up with anymore

the last 4 months that you guys have been dating, truthfully was the best time of his life, like he feels so happy and genuine when he’s around you, there’s no way he’d leave you now

‘I love you, (y/n).’ he hummed, turning his head to the side to look at your peaceful figure laying next him - god, you’re beautiful

‘I love you too, Tōru.’

Tetsurō Kuroo

him and bokuto had a bet to see who could fuck more ppl in a month

the third year gym squad gc was confused but not too confused i mean this is kuroo and bokuto we’re talking about

akaashi, kenma and tsukishima were all disapproving of this idea for their own reasons

akaashi thought it was immoral while kenma and tsukishima thought it was just a ‘who can get an std first competition’

as for hinata and lev, shōyō had his bet on bokuto while lev was rooting for kuroo

kuroo was going to start his hunt for sex partners at the club tonight but he had already agreed that he’d do the business assignment with you tonight and since it was a partnered thing, he’d feel guilty if he opted out last minute

he sat on his bed while you took a seat at his desk, working away at the project while kuroo ‘supervised’

kuroo was bummed that bokuto was probably getting laid rn while he was stuck in his room doing an assignment- WAIT

you were here with him ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ and he was like..90% sure you had the thing for him soooo

he immediately sprung up from his bed and shuffled towards you, grabbing your hips to momentarily lift you up so he could pull you away from the project and onto his lap as he sat on his bed, tracing your jaw with his finger

‘time for a break~’ he cooed in your ear, massaging your thigh with spare hand, ‘only if want though, doll.’

xdfghj OFC YOU DID

consent = given ✨

kuroo = hard

your sex = destroyed

ass = red

you = overstimulated as hell 💅

if you started during the day, expect the sun to have gone down by the time y’all were finished

he offered to take you on a date so you both could do this again sometime and you said yes

but he reassured himself that you were only a hook up- definitely nothing serious- no feelings whatsoever

so a week later, he took you on a sweet, wholesome date to a carnival and you got railed afterwards 🥰

your next few dates went in a similar way until one fateful day where you were just..tired

neither of you really wanted to smash tbh, you were just happy laying in each other’s arms

and as time went on, you guys went on more dates where there was absolutely no sexual activities, just sweet intimacy

and he...... liked it

why did he like it???

you were nothing more than a sexual relief to him, right??

so why did he enjoy cuddling with you so much? shouldn’t he be fuckin you rn? but he didn’t want to...like he was lowkey vibin with you in his arm while watching modern family

then he looked down at you in his arms, the light of the screen highlighting your features beautifully

‘i think i might actually want to marry you one day.’ he blurted out, lightly tracing the bridge of your nose with his finger

this caught you off-guard so you looked up at him, an adorable pink blush dusting your cheeks, ‘really?’ was all you could think to reply

‘yeah.’

Osamu Miya

ofc it was a bet with atsumu ofc it was a bet with atsumu

‘who could get the hotter s/o competition?’ and suna would decide who wins

the twins had a month to get a s/o who was hot asf

so osamu asked you out in maths bc you were the most attractive person he kinda already talks too

you said yes as you sorta kinda maybe had a lil’ thing for him

however, he didn’t even ask you out on a date

in fact, he barely even talked to you after he asked you out until the day came where suna judged which miya twin won the bet

osamu did ofc

then he kinda forgot y’all were dating until one day you snapped him with the caption ‘???’

he was like ‘hey’

sorry i firmly believe he is the driest texter

anyway he felt bad for neglecting you for over a month so he said he’d make it up to you by taking you out to dinner

but he promised himself that dinner was only an apology and right afterwards, he’d cut you off

he was scrolling through his phone, looking for places to take you and although he wanted to just get take-out, even he knew that fast-food probably wasn’t a very romantic date idea

wait- he didn’t care about it being romantic- did he??

eventually he settled on an expensive restaurant bc getting you a take-away probably wasn’t a very good apology

so anyway he took you out and he actually had a pretty good time ^^

i mean, when you coincidentally ordered the same thing off the menu as him- he kinda caught feelings

osamu would definitely realise that he fell for you faster than oikawa and kuroo

just the way his hand just feels a pull towards yours when you’re walking side-by-side is a dead giveaway

so once the date is over and he dropped you off at your house, instead of breaking up with you as he planned, he simply placed a tender kiss on your forehead and smiled, ‘we should do this again soon.’

when he saw the way your face lit up and you squealed slightly, he knew he made the right decision

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stay-outta-my-blood-circle · 3 years ago

Note

If it’s not to late, “Harry warden on the patio with a crossbow.”

Soulmate AU & first "I love you."

This probably isn't what you were expecting. Honestly I wasn't expecting it either - sometimes the muse just makes its own decisions. Companion piece to this, I guess?

As it often goes, you'd met completely by chance. You were grabbing your order at the bar, he was sitting there with his sleeves rolled up; you saw the mark on his arm and dropped your mozzarella sticks.

He turned, studying the commotion over the rim of his mug, but you stood frozen, gaping like a fish - what were the words to say in a situation like this? You couldn't find them, and certainly not fast enough, so when he began to turn back toward the tv screen above the bar, you settled for yanking up your sleeve. He didn't quite drop his beer, but he did spill it all over himself.

You'd talked for a while that afternoon, and then you'd gone on a proper date the next day. He was a little bit gruff and grumpy, but also considerate - and not as reluctant to show affection as you'd expected. In fact, as the days went on and you spent more and more time together, he seemed very comfortable being affectionate, in his own ways; he was pretty casual about it and much more tactile than verbal, but that was just fine with you.

Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye, and you were happier than you had dared hope you would be in the immediate aftermath of finding your soulmate.

Three months later, the mine collapsed.

You hadn't known, at the time, what was causing the horribly sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. When the story hit the news, your heart plummeted; you knew he'd been caught in the disaster before they even listed his name as one of the buried men.

The relatively short time between hearing of the event and hearing of his recovery was terrible. Was he alive? You had no way of knowing - your mark was there just like always, but that didn't mean anything. The marks don't change to reflect the status of the person they're connected to. All you could do was wait, and hope, and try to keep eating (barely) and sleeping (less than barely) in the meantime.

Finally, they found him. They pulled him, battered but alive, from that dark hell - and him alone. He was the only survivor, it seemed, and you felt bad for how relieved you felt. How thankful.

The next day, he was still comatose, but stable. You stayed stalwart at his bedside, trying to coax him back to the world. Back to you.

The day after, they'd finally recovered all the dead men, and then they announced their findings - and suddenly your soulmate was being accused of murder. You denied it vehemently at every turn, especially when the press showed up asking questions. How long have you known him? Has he ever showed signs of violence? A short temper?

Does he hit you?

You'd slapped that particular reporter. Not advisable, probably, but the sting in your palm felt like justice.

Your heart broke slowly as a year crept by with no change in his condition. Your visits grew further and further between - your feelings for him remained as strong as ever, but it was becoming difficult to see him in that state. It forced you to face the likelihood that he was never coming back to you.

The day he finally wakes up, you're taking a mental health day at home, unaware of the veritable hell breaking loose at the hospital as he slashes his way through it, laying ghoulish waste to anyone between him and the way out - between him and you.

He arrives soon thereafter, and he lets himself in using the key you keep in the potted plant by the door. His mind is foggy, full of confusion and dull horror, but he still knows where he is - knows why he's flown, single-minded and feverish, from the hospital to this place. He's puzzled when you don't rush to greet him in the entryway. He stumbles and lurches through the house, leaving smears of half-dried gore on anything he touches in his mindless pursuit of your presence.

When he flings open your bedroom door, you don't recognize him at first - you back away with a scream, trying to put as much distance between this sudden, terrifying intruder and yourself as possible, but he careens toward you undeterred - and then his hand - large, calloused, and covered in a disgusting, viscous film - closes over your shrieking mouth, and familiar golden-brown eyes stare into yours with an intensity that steals the remainder of your breath.

You don't know what to do. You're frozen in disbelief as your mind races at a speed that leaves you dizzy - it's him, it is, but how is that possible? Why is he covered in blood? Is he hurt? Something must be wrong, he looks... he looks unwell. He's here, he's back - you should be happy, ecstatic, but your blood is ice in your veins instead. This feels less like a reunion and more like a haunting.

His hand slides, slick and stomach-churning, down your chin to grip your jaw firmly. His face, already so near, slowly moves closer until your lips meet. They rest there, unmoving at first, but then they begin to twitch against yours - slow, seemingly uncoordinated spasms that intensify quickly until his mouth his moving so much that it breaks your point of contact, and only then do you realize that he's saying something under his breath - chanting the same words over and over, marginally louder each time, voice deep and rough, raspy from disuse. Finally, he's loud enough to hear, and your heart jumps into your throat as you make out the words:

"I love you."

#I should write actual horror more often #Rune writes slashers #Blood Circle Ficlet Fest #Clue prompts #my bloody valentine #harry warden #slashers #slasher fandom #I was going to wait a while longer to post this (it's been done for a bit) but since it is his day and all #Happy Harry Warden day!!

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years ago

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

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bcdwhcre · 4 years ago

Note

heyy again, so, can i request a light x reader x l where it’s set when light had all those hidden cameras and l is watching him and light brings a girl and they start making out (she doesn’t know about the cameras) and then l is just watching them and then time skip where they meet after the to-oh ceremony L is all blushing cuz he lowkey has a crush on her and the reader finds him adorable and lowkey starting to crush on him too

“Love Triangle,” Light x L x Reader

Summary: title says it allllll, love triangle with Light and L

Warnings: eh none

You and Light weren’t all that exclusive, there was a fling there but he hasn’t officially asked you out yet which you didn’t pressure him into doing because it wasn’t all that big of a deal, you knew how busy he was half the time.

But one day he had unexpectedly invited you over to his place, mainly to distract the fact that there were hidden cameras inside of his room and he needed to show L that he was a regular guy.

You didn’t know about the death note nor about anything Kira related, he wanted to wait for the right time and he wanted to make sure he can trust you enough to handle that information.

So when you went to his place and followed him up to his bedroom, you knew nothing of his plan or the fact people were watching you.

You settled on his bed, bringing your hands up to wrap around Light’s neck and tugged him closer to you.

“I missed you.” You mumbled, brushing the strands of hair back from his eyes and he gave you a genuine smile.

“Believe me, I hate being busy with studying too.” He said, his lips peppering a kiss on your cheek and suddenly tilted his head to press his lips onto yours.

L had stared at the monitor, watching the both of you. This wasn’t the first time he’s seen you, he’s met you in person once and mainly has seen you with Light inside of his bedroom. He couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you when you would sit in his room, the way you sat in the corner of his bed while Light studied.

He didn’t want to admit about the fact he thought you were beautiful, it felt wrong to even think that when he was supposed to be investigating Light but seeing your smile through the screen, it made his heart race.

But when he watched the two of you get cuddled up on his bed, making out, he had a sense of jealousy lingering over him but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen as he ate the candy in his hands.

Light knew they were being watched, this was all going the way he wanted it to and he was confident it was going perfectly. He couldn’t help the smirk on his face as his lips molded with yours and his hands touching over your body and settling on your hips.

Time had went by, Light continued to invite you over numerous times when the cameras were in his room to put on a show for L and you were too oblivious to see through it.

It was now the little ceremony at the University, you had sat beside Light and you noticed L sitting in the other side of him.

Light was tensed almsot the entire time and he had excused himself to go get a drink and left you and L alone. You could see his pink tinted cheeks and you smiled at him.

“How have you been doing? I hope your investigation is going well.” You spoke up first, making his eyes move up to yours and he could feel his heart pounding inside of his chest.

“Yes, everything is going well so far.” He nodded, tapping his fingers on his knees, not really knowing what to say.

The way he tried to avoid eye contact with you and how pink his cheeks were, you found him absolutely adorable.

“That’s good, hope things work in your favor.” You said again, making his eyes shoot to look into yours and that’s when he had realized that you had no clue about Light being a suspect or maybe you were playing dumb?

He didn’t know and he could tell how pure you are, he didn’t want to believe that you know about Light possibly being Kira and all that. Of course you knew about the investigation but you had no idea that Light was being looked at closely.

Everyone had sort of kept that from you, especially Light and he did for good reasons- afraid you’ll leave if you found anything out.

“I appreciate that.” He gave a small shy smile, soon dropping it and bringing his thumb up to his lips as he stayed deep in his thoughts.

He was going over every theory, every possible idea in his head. Did you know? Were you helping Light? Everything was spiraling inside and he was hoping you weren’t like that. He wanted to believe that you were as innocent as you seemed on the outside because honestly, he had some feelings for you.

He had glanced over at you from time to time when you weren’t looking but deep down you could see him from the corner of your eye, finally turning your head to look at him, completely forgetting about the fact that Light was gone.

“Can I buy you coffee?” You abruptly said to him which caught him completely off guard and he stared at you wide eyed.

“Coffee? With you and Light?”

“No, just us.” You laughed softly, shaking your head at the thought. Sure you were technically having a thing with Light but it was never made official, you’re still somewhat single but you loved Light- you just feared he didn’t love you as much.

“I’ll love to.”

“Love to what?” Light spoke, sitting back down in the seat in the middle of you two and your eyes met with his with a big smile on your face.

“I wanna buy L coffee, he seems nice.” You admitted, nothing to hide and Light had a sense of jealousy but he also used that to his advantage- you could distract L and move his eyes from him.

“That would be fun, she knows a great coffee place downtown.” He encouraged, looking down at L and giving him a gentle nudge with his elbow.

“Oh, okay then sounds like a plan.” L agreed, fiddling with his fingers as he thought about the idea of you buying him coffee- it sort of made him blush but his black hair was covering it pretty well.

But you and Light could tell how flustered he was underneath that and honestly the both of you had laughed about it to yourself. Light for his selfish desires and you because you thought L was adorable and a soft boy.

You could feel your heart flutter at the thought of being alone with L and it felt sort of wrong but also thrilling at the same time. You reached over to rest your hand on top of Light’s, looking ahead and listening at the ceremony and he had chuckled under his breath.

He could see this triangle getting him far enough to get away with being Kira and having the death note.

Oop another death note one😳

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• Death Note Masterlist •

#light headcanons #light imagine #light yagami headcanons #light imagines #light x reader #light fanfic #light yagami x reader #light yagami imagines #L imagines #L imagine #L x reader #death note imagines #death note headcanons

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elisela · 4 years ago

Text

do you know how to do take-aways? (read on ao3) derek x stiles, g, 2.2k, au, meet cute, fluff, kid fic

prompt: call me for @tylerhunklin

"Hey Scott," Stiles says, jamming the phone receiver between his shoulder and ear so he can go back to typing with both his hands. "Desk duty is killing me, man, do you know how much of a backlog on paperwork there is in this place? Fucking ridiculous—"

"Stiles," Scott cuts in, “I have a call I need you to take."

Stiles sits up straighter and frowns. "We've got people out on patrol—"

Scott's laughter is warm and familiar in his ear. "No, it's not a patrol thing. I'm gonna transfer it over to you, okay? And I’m still coming to bring you dinner tonight."

"Roger," Stiles says, lazily snapping a salute despite Scott not being able to see him. There's a pause and a click, and he slips back into his professional mode—the one his dad definitely wishes he would use more often. "Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, this is Deputy Stilinski, how can I help you?"

"Hi," a small voice says. "Do you know how to do take-aways?"

He frowns, glancing over at the display on the phone screen. He'd think it was a joke except he doubts Scott would patch that through, and there's a childish tone to the voice that's difficult to fake. "Like subtraction?" he asks.

"Yeah," the voice says. "We learned it today but I don't remember and I gotta do my homework."

He presses his lips together so he doesn't laugh and slouches, relaxing a little in his seat. "Sure do," he says. "What's your name?"

"Talia Marie Hale," she says promptly, and Stiles scribbles it down on a piece of paper. "How do I do five take away five?"

"Can you put up five fingers?" he asks, and she makes a noise of assent. "Okay, now put five of them down." He hears her counting in the background and he copies the number the shows on his display underneath her name, then clicks over to run it through the system. When she stops, he says, "okay, how many fingers do you still have up?"

"I don't have any," she says. "How do you write that?"

"Zero," he says. "Do you know how to make that? It's like a big o." He waits another moment before asking, "is anyone in the house with you, Talia?"

"Yeah, my auntie," she says. "But I can't ask her questions while she's writing unless it's an emergency."

He can't catch himself before he laughs. "What made you decide to call 9-1-1?"

"My teacher said if you ever need help you can call," Talia says. "And I really need help. What's seven take away three?"

The second call comes in three days later. He's peeling apart his turkey sandwich and layering Doritos on it, providing much-needed crunch, when his phone rings through from dispatch. "Sup, Scott," he says, because Scott's the only one who ever bothers to call him directly.

"Sorry, Stiles, just me," Kira says. "I have someone on the line for you. Given that she asked for you by name, maybe you could remind her that this line is for emergencies and talk to her guardian?"

He presses the top slice of bread back onto his sandwich and leans back in his chair. "Got it," he says, and waits for the click. "That you, Miss Hale?"

"Hi, Mr. Deputy Stilinski," she says, tiny voice chipper in his ear. "I'm really confused about this take away."

"Hit me," he says, and she giggles.

"Ten take away six," she says. "I put up all my fingers but I got confused."

He hums and glances around his desk. "Are you with your auntie again today?" he asks, and when she confirms he adds, "do you have any toys at her house?"

"I'm at my house," she says. "Auntie watches me while Daddy's away for work, but she's busy writing her thesis so I can't go in the office."

"What's your dad's name?" he asks.

"Derek Samuel Hale," she says. "And my auntie's name is Cora Elizabeth Hale, and my other auntie is Laura Margaret Hale, and my dog's name is Ruffio Hale. Like from Hook. Auntie Cora named him because she said Daddy was scared of Hook when he was my age and she likes to make fun of him. Daddy tried to rename him but he only wants to answer to Ruffio now."

He writes it all down with a grin—even the unasked for information—and flicks at his mouse to wake his computer. "Your aunt sounds pretty cool," he says. "Okay, go get ten small toys and we'll get your math done. Blocks, if you have them."

He runs Cora's name through the system as he waits, just to make sure Talia isn't being left with someone irresponsible, and finds nothing of consequence. He keeps the list, though; he'll tell Talia not to call 9-1-1 anymore unless it's an emergency, and if she does, he'll get in touch with her dad then.

"Little red h-hen makes s-sop," Talia reads, and pauses. "That doesn't sound right. What's ou?"

"Spell the whole thing for me," he says, and corrects, "soup," when she does, spearing a piece of microwaved chicken and popping it in his mouth. He's quiet while she reads, only interjecting when she needs help, trying to eat silently in the background. She mostly spells the comprehension questions for him and he reads them to her, and when she finally thanks him and hangs up, he looks up to see his dad standing over his shoulder.

"Hey, Pops, I finished the file on—"

"When did your desk turn in to the homework helpline?" Noah asks, frowning, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

"She only calls on my break, it's fine," he says, waving a hand to brush away the question before picking up the file. "Anyway—"

"Are her parents aware?"

"I left her aunt a voicemail on Monday," he says, and when his dad just looks at him, he sighs. "Fine, I left her a message last Monday and I haven't heard back, but she's not alone in the house, nothing bad is going on, she's just—lonely, I think." It's something he understands; after his mom passed away, he'd started calling Edith, who worked the front desk of the station when he was a kid, every night his dad wasn't home.

"Call again," Noah says, "and next time, make whoever is home with her aware of it. Once or twice is fine; every day for weeks is a problem."

"Here," he says, and Talia gives him the first letter promptly before pausing and spelling out the rest. "Good job. Um, said."

He might be extending their time on the phone, just a little. He likes talking to her; she reminds him of himself, her elementary drama always makes him laugh, and she likes asking him questions about being a deputy. So he’s not really looking forward to asking to speak to her aunt and put a stop to all this.

When she seems like she’s winding down, he sighs. “I know you’re not supposed to interrupt Auntie Cora,” he says, “but I was hoping to talk to her. Can you tell her Deputy Stiles is on the phone?”

“Oh, Auntie’s not here,” Talia says, and Stiles feels the beginning of a heart attack coming on before she adds, “Daddy’s home now. I’ll go get him.” He hears a thunk and then little feet running, her calling out for her Dad before there’s a muffled thump.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi,” he says, “this is Deputy Stilinski from BHSD—is this Mr. Hale?”

“This is,” he says, and if it’s possible to fall in love with a voice, Stiles does so right then. Soft and gentle, just a bit of concern, and he has to stop himself from running Derek’s name through the system to get a photo. His dad is already irritated with him for encouraging Talia’s calls (and, you know, for the whole stopping a bank robbery in progress thing that led to the injury that landed him on desk duty), he doesn’t need to add misuse of resources to the list. “Is everything okay?”

He takes a breath and explains, starts from the beginning and includes how he gave Talia his desk number so she would stop calling 9-1-1, makes sure to add that he’d tried to get ahold of Cora—and leaves out the fact he hadn’t called Mr. Hale directly even though he could have easily done so—and when he’s finished talking, he adds, “I didn’t mind, honestly, she just told me today that you were back in town and I wanted to let you know.”

There’s a pause where he holds his breath and hopes that Mr. Hale doesn’t think he’s a creep, or doesn’t demand to speak to the Sheriff—but he just lets out a breath and says “I am so sorry, I’ll absolutely talk to her, it won’t happen again.”

“I really didn’t mind,” he says again, because he also doesn’t want to get Talia into trouble. “She must get home from school at the same time my break starts because she always called at the same time, I wasn’t busy. Just making you aware.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Hale says. “Deputy—” and isn’t Stiles going to have dreams where his name is said like that, low and grateful and—

“Sorry?” he asks, flushing when he realizes he’s lost track of the conversation. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I appreciate what you did,” Mr. Hale says. “I’ll talk to her.”

Talia doesn’t call the next day.

She shows up instead.

“Mr. Deputy Stiles!” he hears from the front, and his head snaps up to see a little girl with long dark hair looking around the room, envelope clutched in one hand, the holding onto the hottest man Stiles has ever seen and holy shit, he suddenly believes that karma is very real and he has clearly done something good in his life to earn this kind of reward.

He starts to stand, and her eyes catch his and light up as she tugs her dad towards him. “Miss Hale?”

“Hi!” she says, flinging her arms around his waist. He hugs her back and looks over at her dad, who gives him a sheepish look and shrugs. “I got a hundred percent on my sight words test and Daddy said we could go to ice cream to celebrate and then when we were at ice cream he said we should do something nice for you because you helped me so so so much and I really wanted to come here anyway because I want to see a real jail and Daddy said if I was really really nice and asked politely then maybe you could show me some handcuffs—”

If this is what he’s like, he’s starting to understand why it was difficult for him to make friends in school, because she just does not stop, and doesn’t leave an opportunity for him to get a word in. He crouches down so he’s eye-level with her and waits it out, accepting the envelope when she finally runs out of words and beams at him. “Thank you,” he says, and when he opens it up to find a drawing and a handful of gift cards, he looks up to Mr. Hale. “You really didn’t have to, Mr. Hale,” he says, wrapping one arm around Talia’s shoulders when she darts in to hug him again.

“Derek,” he says, and when he smiles, Stiles is pretty sure he’s found God. “We don’t want to take up your time, I just wanted to thank you.”

“But—” Talia starts, and falls quiet when Derek looks at her again. “I can’t even see the people in the jail?”

“It’s not really a jail,” Stiles says, shrugging, “just a holding cell. And there’s no one in it right now.”

“Boo,” Talia says. “Can I meet your Sheriff?”

“Lia,” Derek warns, and she sighs explosively. “Sorry about—all this. I talked to Cora and she knows to give Talia a little more attention during homework time, so she won’t—she shouldn’t—be calling you again. Talia, we need to get home. Say thank you and goodbye.”

“Bye, Mr. Deputy Stiles,” she says, and he knows—he knows—that her sticking out her bottom lip and pouting is nothing more than a manipulation tactic, but it hits him all the same. “Thank you.”

“Deputy Stilinski,” he says before he fully has the receiver to his ear, wadding up a piece of scrap paper and tossing it at Jordan’s head to get his attention. He motions to the pizza box laying on his desk—dinner for the station courtesy of Derek, who clearly didn’t know the going rate for tutors given the sheer amount he’d dropped on gift cards—and makes a grabbing motion. They’ll be having station dinners for weeks—so long as they cater to his busted foot and bring him what he wants. Otherwise, he’s spending it all on himself.

“Hi,” someone says, and “sorry, this is Derek Hale, Talia’s dad?”

“Hey,” he says, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you?”

“I—” there’s a pause and a muffled sound, a conversation happening just outside of what Stiles can hear. “Sorry, I—I wanted to ask if you would be interested in getting coffee on Saturday. With me,” he adds, and Stiles can hear it when he cups his hand over the microphone and says, “Talia, stop.”

It’s like a record scratch in his brain. “Coffee?” he repeats. He’d thanked karma for smiling down on him, but he’d figured the encounter with Derek was one and done. “You want—with me?”

“Yes,” Derek says, “although my daughter is also extremely interested and I believe is willing to fight me for you.”

Laughter bursts out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You know, I think Talia did call dibs first,” he says, grinning. “What if we all got coffee and then you and I went for lunch?”

“I can work with that,” Derek says. “It’s a date.”

#sterek #sterek fic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #eli writes #sterek au #deputy stiles #KID FIC #meet cute

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