#i don’t remember a lot of opening night but i do remember looking her in the eye in the tent

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. As a thoroughbred jock, Steve could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that usually didn’t extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve said, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, displacing his artfully styled do. And too distracted to even notice? Dustin was very nearly starting to get worried. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit demeaning. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.” Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

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[evermoredeluxe]

alana haim makes people go crazy

[lymtw]

The frustration that Satoru feels when he completely stops seeing you as just one of his best friends.

You’re so pretty, modeling the dress you’ll be wearing on your date with some guy who probably dims in comparison to you. Suguru says you should try the outfit without the cardigan, so you take it off for a second and do a little 360 for the trio. Shoko gasps when she sees the lacy details that were hidden by the coat and Suguru claps in validation. “You’re so gonna get some.”

Satoru just watches, cheek resting in his fist as he half listens to the little debate between Shoko and Suguru. It’s all a blur as he focuses on the one glowing in front of him.

“Satoru?” You wave your hand in front of him.

“Hm?” He blinks up at you, acting like he wasn't zoned out while staring.

“Tie-breaker. Coat or no coat?”

He had heard what Suguru said when you took the cardigan off. 'You’re so gonna get some.'

He doesn’t want that.

“You should stay layered. You might get cold later.”

Suguru groans in disapproval, falling back into the couch cushion, while Shoko grins, smugly, at her small victory.

“Coat it is.” You smile, running back to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“You like her, huh?” Suguru asks as soon as you’re out of sight, a squint of betrayal in his eyes.

“Pfft, nah. What makes you think that?” Satoru defends.

“She asked for our opinion on the dress and you went silent," Shoko says, throwing a knowing smirk at Satoru.

“You don’t want her to get laid or something? Why’d you vote for the granny cardigan?” Suguru adds, arms crossed over his chest.

“I want to see you take care of her when she’s sick. I did it last time, and she was unbearable. Also,” he turns to answer Shoko’s remark, “what can I say? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“A lot of her on your mind.” Suguru nods over at you.

Satoru turns, a lucent gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

“Alright, guys. I’ll be back before-“

“Don’t rush!” Shoko says, giggling at the dopey look on Satoru’s face.

There’s a smirk tugging on Suguru’s lips. “Have fun.”

“Call if you need me to pick you up," Satoru blurts, sitting up straight on the lounge chair he was seated in.

Shoko gasps and Suguru’s eyes go wide for a second.

“Uh... sure. Will do. Love you guys, bye!” You walk past your friends, opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

Your perfume had some effect on Satoru because for some reason his heart was racing and he was unable to calm it down.

“What?” Satoru asks when he notices the way his friends look at him. “I’m the only one with a car here.”

“Uh-huh, let’s put it that way," Shoko says, sharing a menacing look with Suguru.

—

You did end up having to call Satoru. Your date was the most annoying, insufferable person you had ever met and you weren't going to pretend like you were enjoying your time with him for the rest of the night. How can someone be so different the moment you’re alone together? You couldn’t stand him, so you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom halfway through your meal.

You called Satoru, hoping he wasn't kidding about calling him if you needed a ride home.

“Hey, uh, I know this is really inconsiderate of me, but can you come pick me up from the restaurant? If you can’t it’s totally fine. I’ll stay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. It turns out I can’t stand this guy.” You chuckle, your hand reaching for the sensor beneath the water faucet, the cool water running through your fingers. "He's gross and just... I don't know."

“Did he do anything to you? Are you okay? ‘Cause, you know, I can kick his ass.”

“You already asked me that, 'toru. I’m okay. He’s just…” you pause, a sigh filling in the silence, “...different from what I remember. I don’t know this guy.”

Satoru is already sitting in his car. The moment you asked him to pick you up, he grabbed his keys and headed for the car.

“Give me ten minutes.”

“It takes twenty to get here.”

“Too bad. I’m running a few red lights. Sit tight.”

“Sa-”

The call ends and you’re left staring at the contact photo you have for him. You turn your screen off and stare into the mirror. You don’t know if you should stay in the bathroom until Satoru gets there or if you should go back out to the man waiting for you.

—

“So, Satoru likes her, huh?” Shoko says, leaning back in the lounge chair Satoru sat in before.

“Who would have guessed? We’ve all been friends for years and he’s never looked at her like that.”

“We should invest in some noise cancelling headphones. Who knows what could happen after tonight?”

Suguru furrows his eyebrows in confusion, so Shoko grins and demonstrates. She rocks back and forth in the old lounge chair, the chair creaking and squealing.

“Oh.” Suguru’s face further scrunches. He didn't need the image of his friends doing that together, in his mind.

—

Your phone vibrates on the sink, and Satoru’s name appears on the screen when you flip it. You quickly answer the call.

“Hey, i’m outside.”

“How do I walk out of here without seeming like a bitch? I didn’t think this through.”

“First, walk out the restaurant doors. Then, get in my car. It’s pretty simple, honestly.”

“We haven’t paid the bill.”

“Fuck it. Let him pay.”

“That’s just wrong. Alright, i’ll be out in a bit. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sum up all the courage you have and walk out of the bathroom. Once you reach the table, you pull out some cash you have just laying around in your purse, like forty-something bucks, and set it down in the middle of the table.

“Hopefully that’s enough to cover half of it.”

“Where are you going?” Your date asks.

“To keep it polite, I have to go. Have a good rest of your night.”

You walked out of the restaurant, immediately spotting Satoru’s blue Camaro.

The second you get in, you make yourself comfortable, removing your heels and taking down your hair from its updo.

“What’s wrong?” Satoru asks, when you don’t say anything.

“It’s fine. This guy just wasn’t the one.”

Satoru’s chest feels tight now that you’re in the car. The smell of your perfume has returned and you’re glowing in the moonlight. It makes him think of the effort you put into looking the way you do, and how you ended up having to hide in the bathroom.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You’re looking in the sun visor mirror, bobby pins in your mouth as you fix your hair so that it’s not in your face once Satoru starts driving.

“Mm… whatever you want to do,” you say, muffled by the pieces of metal pressing into your lips.

It wouldn’t be whatever he wants to do, though. All he wants to do is kiss you, right now. Do something to soothe the ache you must be feeling.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asks, watching you as you place another pin in your hair.

You laugh through your nose, a bobby pin still between your lips. You put it in your hair before answering.

“Like what?” You look at him while you put your seatbelt on.

“Like this doesn't bother you. You don't have to put up a front, you know? I'm not gonna laugh at you."

The metal clicks, and you fold the sun visor back up. “Because it didn’t bother me. I’m not gonna settle for someone I hate being around."

Part of Satoru wanted this to go well for you. He wanted to see a brilliant smile on your face when you got home. So, the fact that it didn’t end up that way strangely caused some heartache for him.

“Don’t look so down.” You give him a kind smile and pinch his cheek. “I’m okay. Really.”

He tries to distract himself from the warmth that seeps into his cheeks from your quick gesture. “Well, I don’t want to go home. Is that okay, with you?”

“What’s up with you?” You ask, bringing one of your legs up and folding it comfortably on the seat.

“Nothing.”

You stare at him until he breaks out his contagious smile and laugh.

“Really, nothing. I just want to spend some time out tonight. Shoko and Suguru want to stay home and be couch potatoes."

You see your date walking out of the restaurant, phone against his ear. He doesn’t look too defeated, but you don’t want him to see you with Satoru and make any bold assumptions.

“Okay, that’s totally fine, but can we go?” Your leg goes back down, meeting the floor mat and you turn to face the window.

Satoru analyzes your behavior and your expression. Your arms are crossed, you refuse to look in his direction again. It’s weird compared to how you were acting two seconds ago.

“What?” Satoru turns to look at whatever made you shrink, and as soon as he sees him he rolls his window up. “Really?” His eyes are lidded in disappointment. It’s not in you as a person, but in your lack of respect for yourself, choosing someone so far below your league.

“He was nice when I first met him.”

Satoru puts the gear in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “He looks stupid and on top of that he acts like it, too? God.”

“I know, I know.” You lean against the car door and stare out the window.

“What made you think you deserved him? Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around how low this is for someone like you.”

“I don’t know.”

Your responses to Satoru's interrogation kept getting shorter and shorter and he realized he was beating a horse that was already down.

“You know I care," he mumbles, breaking the heavy silence. “I don’t mean to tell you who to date and who you should be with.”

“I hate this conversation. You’re not my dad, Satoru. It’s fine.” You sit up, back against the seat and face forward. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I just followed a random road to see where it would lead. I don’t wanna go home, but I also don’t want to know where I am.”

“So, we’re lost.” You laugh.

“Hey, as long as we have phones with enough battery, we’re not really lost.”

“Right.” You grin, continuing to watch the road. You look over the steering wheel to see how much gas the car has. It’s two marks below the bold F.

“Can you tell me something?”

You turn to Satoru, giving him your full attention. He’s been more serious than you know him to be since you left the house.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not trying to rehash this father-like conversation, but as one of your best friends… what were you thinking when you accepted a date with this guy?” He glances over at you for a second. “What went through your mind when you said 'yes' to a date with him?”

“Potential love, dates, butterflies. All the stuff that goes into getting to know someone as more than an acquaintance or friend.” You fidget with the extra hair tie on your wrist.

“You want all of that?” He asks, glimpsing at you again.

You nod, silently.

“You’re pretty enough to fuck around with whoever you want, you know? I know some people who wanna do some pretty... vulgar things with you."

Your eyes go wide at how far south the conversation went. You cracked the second you looked at Satoru though. He looked somewhat proud to be friends with someone who could get some anytime.

“That’s… good to know, I guess.” Your mind stumbles over the part where he called you pretty enough.

“You’re not interested in that, though, are you?”

You wince, jokingly. “It’s just not my cup of tea. I want something more long-term.”

Satoru grins, almost like he wants to talk about himself.

“That’s not your cup of tea, is it?” You reciprocate the grin.

“No, no. Believe it or not, the last relationship I was in lasted a whole two months.”

You slapped the car door dramatically. “A whole two months?!”

“Stop it. It’s nothing, really," Satoru jokes, grinning with faux pride.

“Hey, i’m not shaming you. You’re not down with commitment and that’s fine. We're young. There's no need to rush."

“I haven’t found someone I really want to commit to. I'm not stupid enough to ignore the fact that people are really only attracted to my body. They can't stand when I open my mouth, so I figured it’s better to fuck around than to put my heart into something that won’t last without sex.”

Satoru's personality was for people with acquired taste. On the other hand, Satoru's physical appearance was for anyone and everyone. The people who could appreciate all of him would be in for the most amazing ride, because even as his friend, you could confidently say that there is no one like him anywhere in the world. You can only hum in acknowledgement of how romantically lonely he must feel.

“What?” You ask when the car stops. Satoru puts the car in park before turning it off. “We’re not out of gas, so what’s the problem?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to face you, one leg bent on the seat. He’s met with a breathtaking sight. You look stunning in that navy blue dress, and that shade smeared over your lips was calling his name. He can see part of your thigh from where your dress rides up.

“Can I talk to you about something?” The tension behind the question was enough to make your ears go red.

“Of course you can. You’re scaring me, but go on.”

He smiles, trying to lighten up the mood. He knows better than to just dump information like this on you so heavily, but he can't go home tonight without telling you how he feels. He already doesn’t expect much to come of telling you this, but it's been eating him alive and he can't keep it in anymore.

“You've been on my mind a lot, lately." He sees your slightly furrowed eyebrows. They match the unintentional pout on your lips. You’re confused and for some reason you feel nervous, like your heart might escape your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” You ask, wanting a clearer understanding. He could be worried about you in a totally platonic way. He could be wondering about what you've been up to lately. You're having trouble assuming there's romantic notes to his statement after the brief discussion you just had.

“It's exactly as it sounds. I've been thinking about you." He's not smiling, he's not laughing yet this still sounds like a joke that he’s running to mess with you.

“You done with your jokes? We could both be home right about now," you say, not intending for your words to come out as sharp as they did. His hand is suddenly cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a speck of glitter from it.

“You say goodnight to me in the sweetest way—like you won't see me in the morning. And the soft smile you give me before you shut the door... it lingers in my mind. I dream of it from time to time."

You're trying so hard not to lean into his touch and nuzzle your cheek into his palm, but you make no effort to push his hand away. “What are you talking about, Satoru? Don't you think you're reading into it a little too much? I do that for all three of you. Ask Shoko and Suguru.”

His hand has been on your cheek for a while now, and he’s still looking at you like he has things to get off his chest. “I know you don't say it the same way to them as you do to me." He stops, a little sigh leaving him. He’s probably making you dizzy with all of this news, based on the look on your face. He retracts his hand and rests it on his thigh. You look stunned, so he cuts to the chase. “To be even more clear, I don’t see you as a friend. It doesn’t seem right to see you that way when I can picture us doing more. Being more."

“Doing more?” You repeat, cheeks growing warm.

“Holding hands, kissing, being alone together—more.”

The heavy silence returns, both of you nervously avoiding eye contact.

“I..." you huff. "I need some air.” You unbuckle yourself before exiting the car. Your scent remains in the car even after the door shuts behind you, leaving Satoru to wonder if things are screwed with you.

Your back is against the door, your hands interlocked in front of your eyes, shielding you from the gentle moonlight. You groan, irritated by the conflicted thoughts that came with Satoru's revelation.

It’s not long before Satoru comes out and joins you, leaning on the side of his car. It's cold and he doesn't want you to get sick again. His heart could barely handle your involuntarily weak display the first time.

“I didn’t stress you out, did I?” He asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head, your hands still covering your eyes. “There’s really no part of you that can envision an us between me and you?”

You chuckle, a sound that makes his heart pang. “It’s funny... you know, a long time ago it was all I dreamed about.”

Now this was baffling news to Satoru. How long ago was a long time ago? A couple months ago? Last year? Three years ago? And why didn’t you say anything?

“I considered you a pursuit that was out of reach. You had—have— all these girls just throwing themselves at you, and I couldn’t be one of them, so I befriended you instead.”

“How long ago was a long time ago?” He asks, nervous to hear the answer.

“Like last year in March. It was during your phase where you would never come home.”

He feels like an asshole. Especially since not too much later, he developed similar feelings for you that he endlessly denied.

“You liked the me you never got to see?”

You both chuckled at the rhyme of his words, your broken senses of humor adding some lightheartedness to the conversation.

“I guess you not coming home was more calming because I didn't have to be nervous to see you.”

You crossed your arms. The cardigan protected you, but not enough. The cold wind was starting to nip at your cheeks. Satoru notices and moves closer to you.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?”

You didn’t want to. You were nervous being “stranded” with Satoru already, but minimizing the space between you was even more nerve-wracking. He was your greatest temptation before, and you could easily create those labyrinths that guide him into your mind again if you got close enough.

“I’ll be fine," you say, looking straight ahead at the field of weeds in front of you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold. Get in the car," Satoru prompts. He thought back to the tired look on your face as you laid in bed sick, waiting for him to bring you warm soup.

“No," you insisted, turning away from him.

He inched closer, not wanting to look at your back. “Please, get in the car." He thought of the gracious look on your sick face when he brought you another blanket to keep you warm.

“I said no, Satoru. I don't want to get in the car with you."

You were being stubborn as hell, and something about it made Satoru’s blood boil to the point where he did whatever his mind told him to do. You were suddenly pinned to the car, your hands on Satoru’s chest to keep some distance. He blocked every gust of wind that threatened to bite at your skin, and enveloped you in his warmth. You don’t know how, but in this freezing temperature, Satoru’s hands felt like sunlight on your cheeks. His face was centimeters away from yours, his bright eyes searching for a loophole in your feelings for him. Your eyes spoke with an infinite amount of possibility, and some of it didn't make sense, so he kissed you in hopes of translating what you were trying to say.

You didn’t have any fight left in you. Not when you felt so secure in this close proximity. Now, all you wanted was to be in the car with him, alone.

The kiss was released with light breaths from both of you, a look of feeling complete on Satoru’s face. “Will you get in the damn car,” he whispers, his arms caging you against the car.

“Say please," you say in the same intimate volume as him.

“Please," he complies, allowing his eyes to flit between your eyes and your lips.

“Pretty please?" you push.

“Pretty please," he says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“How about pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Get in the car," he says through a laugh.

You chuckle, shoving him lightly before opening the door and entering the car. Satoru gets in the drivers seat and suddenly it all feels strange. Strange, but in the best way.

The tension from before returns. There's no wind blowing to fill in the silence when you both stop talking.

“Do you ever think of me when you're alone?” It was a weird question to be asked by him, especially since you had already told him that your feelings for him were left behind.

“Never," you reply, a softness in your tone that held memories of when all you thought about was Satoru.

He's somewhat disappointed, seeing as though there's a chance he might be too late.

“Do you think that will change after tonight?” He seems to be getting closer, or at least his hands are. Your skin is irresistible and he wants to feel how soft you are. He's been craving you for so long, and you're right there.

“There’s no way to tell.” You can see how slowly his hand is traveling. A minute ago it was on his lap, now it’s on the armrest between your seats. You can’t wait any longer. The suspense might make you jump out of the car again, so you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, where your dress rides up.

“I’ll throw the question back to you. Do you think of me when you're alone?” You ask him now because he won’t give you some bullshit response at a time like this, when he’s getting everything he’s wanted for who knows how long.

“All the time,” he responds so quickly. “When I wake up, before I go to sleep, in the shower, while I brush my teeth.” There’s this foolish look on his face, like he would give anything to never lose the ability to have you on his mind all the time. "You're in there, organizing the shrine I made for you," he admits, with a grin. His thumb presses into your thigh, massaging the plush skin. It makes you nervous as hell, but you like it.

“Have you told Suguru and Shoko?”

He chuckles, remembering the conversation he had with them after you left. “I’m positive they know."

Once again, you're left staring at each other in silence, drowning in the tension you’ve created within yourselves. Satoru has yet to move his hand away from your thigh, not letting up even when he feels goosebumps spread on your skin. He tests the boundaries you have set up, finding no resistance from you when his hand reaches further up your dress.

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?” He asks as his fingers are met with lace, a texture that makes his heart thud rapidly in his chest.

You shake your head, leaning back in the seat. His fingers ghost over the front of your panties, finding a satin bow just below the elastic band.

“Were you going to let that guy touch you? Is that why you wore these?” He hasn’t even seen them, and yet he can tell they’re the cutest thing ever.

“Maybe," you mumble, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Can I see them?” He asks.

You nod, allowing him to slowly pull up your dress. Your heart drops when you hear him gasp.

“God, no way," he says, sounding defeated. His ears slowly turn a bright shade of red as he observes the material covering your intimate area.

“Stop,” you whine, feeling flustered by his reaction and the way he stares.

His hand returns to its previous spot, continuing to play with the part of the elastic that sticks to your hip.

“You wear these types of panties on every date you go on?”

You nod, biting your lip as his fingers move just to feel the fabric. His touch is still ghost-like—light, barely there, but it’s working you up anyway. There’s barely enough friction, yet you can feel your wetness begin to ruin the garment.

He sighs. “You know, no one deserves you.” His tone is smooth and he smiles at you, an angel taking control of his features. “Not even me, but I can make up for the one who missed you tonight.”

He spares his attention to the spot in the middle of your panties, only smiling when a breathy moan involuntarily leaves you.

“God..." you groan in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. "I can’t with myself."

His thumb rubs up and down your clothed slit, applying pressure when he reaches your clit.

“Don’t be shy. Make as much noise as you want,” he says, luring a gasp from you.

You look away again, red-faced, feeling embarrassed beyond belief.

“What?” A low chuckle follows. His hands settle on your thighs as he leans in and tries to look at your flustered face.

“This is weird.” You look out the window, too nervous to look at Satoru.

“How come?”

You giggle. “I can’t stop seeing you as one of my friends. It’s strange to experience something like this with you.”

“I would hope Suguru and Shoko aren’t touching you like this.” His hand splays on your thigh, kneading softly. “Are they?” He asks, after a pause.

“Of course not.”

He seems satisfied with that response because he’s trying to hold back a smile, but the corners of his lips are twitching. His fingers snap the elastic band of your panties against your skin a couple more times.

“Is it too weird to go on?” He asks.

You consider the facts. He already touched you, he confessed his feelings for you before he touched you so you know he wasn't lying about his feelings for you and he doesn’t just want sex. You had those feelings for him before, but claimed to have lost them with time.

Your overwhelming thoughts are enough to put an end to what was going on. You pull down your dress, hiding the evidence of his touch, and sit up straight in the seat. “Maybe we should head home before we do something we might regret later.”

He hums and smiles, not an ounce of disappointment in his features. “No argument from me."

Satoru put his seatbelt on and watched as you did the same before starting the car. There was no need for him to set up the GPS because all he did was drive straight, so all he had to do was drive back the other way.

You didn’t expect the car ride to be so quiet. Maybe he did want things to go further. You couldn’t bear to look back at Satoru, even though you could feel him side eyeing you as he drove. There were a couple times where he turned his head to look at you when you stopped at red lights, but you knew you couldn’t look back until you had something to say. You were overthinking everything that happened until that point. What can you say when you just went through an entire roller coaster of emotions with someone you call a best friend? Someone who has now seen you in a vulnerable position.

“Did you at least eat?” Satoru asks, finally breaking the heavy silence that engulfed the car.

“Uh, yeah. I was able to get through my meal," you respond, glancing at him quickly before turning back to face the window.

He nods in acknowledgement. You see the stop sign at the end of your street, signaling the closeness of home.

Satoru parks the car in the driveway, and you finish removing your shoes. You enter the house, expecting to see Suguru and Shoko up waiting for you guys, but to your surprise, the doors to their bedrooms are shut.

“Goodnight, Satoru," you say. “Thanks again, for picking me up.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he responds. “Goodnight.”

You can’t shake the void left in your gut after your time with Satoru. You sit on your bed for a moment thinking of the intimacy that occurred between you and him. The gentleness of his touch, the lack of judgement from him when you basically told him that you dress your best even for scumbags. Something inside you was begging you to tell him how much you wanted him to sleep in your room—in your bed. And that’s exactly what you aimed for with this rush of adrenaline that surged through you. You rose off the bed quickly, and made haste to reach his bedroom.

You knocked, calling his name once. Once was all it took for him to leap to open the door.

“Can you help me with something?” You asked, hoping he held no ill will towards you and that he wouldn’t deny you.

“Sure. With what?”

You motion for him to follow you to your room, and he does with no further questions, following your bare feet as you lead him to your room.

“I tied the knot for my dress a little too tightly." You let out a quiet chuckle, your nervousness imbued into it.

“Oh, I see," he says, stifling a grin. "Turn around.” His finger circles in the air.

You turn your back to him, facing the mirror on your vanity. You can feel his knuckles grazing your lower back as he takes the time to slowly loosen the knot, the straps that once sat wrapped around your waist dropping loosely.

“There,” he murmurs, still standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

Normally, that is the cue for someone to leave, but there was this branch of electricity connecting him to you. He couldn’t find a reason to step away from you, so instead he stepped closer. His arms encircled your waist, his hands interlocking above your lower abdomen. Your stomach swarmed with butterflies—blood thirsty ones that knew all too well that they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, so long as Satoru was in your room.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder, an act that brought goosebumps to your skin. "You look really pretty." You give in to the feeling, tilting your head to give him the entire canvas of that side of your neck. He wondered if you would be upset if you saw his kisses on your neck in the morning.

He stops and looks for your approval first because he has arrived centimeters behind the line between friends who are really comfortable with each other and something deeper. You have to let him know that it’s okay to cross this line.

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing the hands that rest on your lower abdomen. “Don't stop."

That’s the green light he needed in order to move on. He did not hesitate at all in pulling back his arms and undoing the knot that held your dress up. He watched as the smooth velvet cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but those precious lace panties. You felt vulnerable with your bare chest out, but made no attempt to hide yourself.

He was frozen for a second or two, speechless at the sight before him.

“No one deserves you,” he finally says, his arms snaking around your torso. His lips start leaving behind their marks on the other side of your neck. He drags his kisses down your shoulder, biting once, then twice, resulting in a couple giggles from you.

“Close the door, please,” you say, realizing Shoko and Suguru would see what was happening if they opened their doors.

Satoru releases you only to close the door, locking it for safe measures. As soon as he’s back, he’s wrapping his arms around you before pushing both of you towards your bed. He starts stripping his clothes off, until he's left in just his boxers. His eyes never leave yours, a lovestruck smile on his face.

“You will never know how many times I’ve dreamt of this scenario."

“Stop.” You giggle, withstanding the sting of his lips on more than you neck. It’s heat on your chest and on your stomach now, his hands holding your waist so gently. You’ll look like some abstract piece of art by morning with the endless waves of kisses that Satoru gives you. He wants you so badly. Devastatingly so. He wants to prove that he is the closest to deserving you by the end of the night.

Your heartbeat is inconsolable in your ribcage. The eye contact brought some reality to the situation. He chuckles at the doe-eyed look on your face before refocusing on his task. He's nearing the elastic band of your underwear, those cute lacy ones he got to touch in the car. His touch is already affecting you, the evidence being a wet spot reemerging in the middle of your underwear.

"You're so warm and soft, and..." he sighs, your body making his mind cloud. He couldn't have ever accurately imagined how stunning you would be with just the golden street lamp's light shining through your window. "...you smell really fucking good." His hands go beneath the elastic band of your underwear, dragging his dainty fingers through your slit enough times to earn a small gasp from you, before pulling his hand out. "Bet you taste amazing, too," he says, wrapping his lips around his glossy digits. "Mhm..." he practically moans when your taste coats his tastebuds. "Sweeter than I could have ever imagined."

You don't think you'll get over Satoru saying these explicit things to you.

"More. Fuck, I need more." There's so much he wants to do to you, so little time in the night despite it only being 11:30. "God, you're so..." he cuts himself off and kisses down your stomach, impatiently—desperately. "...so pretty. So—fuck— so pretty. Gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay, 'toru, make sure to breathe," you tease, running your fingers through his soft locks as he nears your throbbing core.

He drags his nose up and down the wet patch of your panties, audibly inhaling your scent and exhaling through shuddered breaths. He sounds feral, his aching cock creating its own pool of arousal in his boxers. The tip of his nose was covered in your slick, the remnants of you on his skin driving him absolutely crazy. Once he absolutely couldn't take it anymore, he yanked your underwear down, almost tearing the pretty fabric and tossed it onto the floor. You were soaked at the sight of his pure lust towards you. Those eyes were darker than you've ever seen them before.

He tries to be slow and gentle for you. You're the one thing he's wanted for the longest time and now he has you. You're not guaranteed to be his forever, after this, but at least the night is secured and he has this one chance to prove that he would do it right with you. That he could handle your body with a tenderness and loving that would make you weep. Everything you want in a lover will be given to you in one act of demonstrating how undeniably in love with you he is.

His attempt at slow sensuality never reaches you. His arms are hooked tightly around your thighs to prevent you from squirming away from his greedy mouth. He wants everything you give him to never end. The melodic sound of you moaning his name, the sweet nectar that just keeps drooling out of your cunt, the sting on his scalp from the firm hold you have on his hair and the tugging. He's in heaven. If the possibility of this reoccurring is nonexistent, he wants this moment to loop. For there to be a glitch in real life that allows him to replay this scenario as many times as he likes, like a story with multiple endings.

"You taste so good. So fucking good, princess. Wanna give you a taste," he rambles. He unwraps his right arm from your thigh and uses his forearm to pin it down so that he can use his fingers on you. He bends all his fingers down except for his index and middle fingers. Your slick is already streaming out of you, ready to be collected, but he can't resist the urge to dip his fingertips into your pulsing hole. "Oh fuck, you're so wet," he utters in awe, quickly tossing the idea of just his fingertips going in when his long, lithe fingers sink into you with ease.

"Satoru," you choke out, a sharp gasp following. The pads of his fingers brush against that spot within you that forces you to bite your lip. Your heart is racing. What if you get caught? How would you explain what's going on to your friends and would the dynamic of your living situation change because of it? You care, but clearly not enough to second guess this moment again, like you did in the car.

"Mmm..." he moans against your clit, his lips smacking after releasing the now throbbing bundle. "So sweet." He pulls his fingers out of you and admires the glaze that drips down to his knuckles. He wants to be selfish and put them in his mouth, but his need for you to know how good you are to his tastebuds overpowers those thoughts. "Open, pretty," he says, tapping his wet fingers against your lips. He watches with parted lips as you take his slick coated digits into your mouth, shutting your lips around them to completely suck off your essence. "Good, huh?" A pleased grin appears when you nod. "Yeah... I want it back." He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and puts them on your right breast, smearing your saliva all over your nipple until it pebbles.

All you can do is say "huh?" before your lips are enveloped by his. The kiss starts out slow— he's taking a moment to appreciate how perfect your lips feel against his. For a minute you can feel the way he innocently wants you. You have butterflies in your stomach all over again.

His hunger for you grows with every sharp breath you release and the squirming beneath his unrelenting hands on your chest. Your heart has been pounding in your ears since he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you have goosebumps from all the rubbing, brushing, and tweaking he offers your nipples, the throbbing in your cunt only intensifying as you withstand it. He thinks the whimpers that seep into your kisses are the cutest sounds ever and he doesn't want them to stop, so he glides a hand down your abdomen and gives you the touch you're missing.

You break the kiss, throwing your head back into the pillow at the feeling of Satoru rubbing your clit. He watches through gleaming eyes the way your jaw hangs and allows the sweetest moans to spill from your kissed up lips.

"Feeling good?" He asks, grinning when you respond with a moan that makes you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Yeah? That's an answer, too." He chuckles, watching intently as you crumble beneath his touch, not some zero's who made a fool out of himself.

You uncover your mouth, your sounds amplifying and flowing freely. "Satoru," you gasp. "Oh, fuck– S-Satoru!" The last words you manage to cry out before you cum without a warning.

You look way too pretty arching your back off the bed and chasing friction from his hand. Your neck looks palpable like that, exposed for him like you want him to mark it up and take a few bites.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl," he coos, drunk off the cute sounds of the heaves and sobs that wrack through your chest, your little whines shining through them. Lustful, lidded eyes watch as you try to wriggle away from his touch.

"P-Please," you huff out, your trembling thighs working to shut around his hand. It's too much, your peak has passed and now you're left to bear the overwhelming feeling of his unstopping fingers.

"I know, I know. It's terrible..." he murmurs. His tip is leaking so much at the sight of your body jerking and your eyes welling with tears. He really loves the way you've surrendered yourself to him. "You're so pretty." He sighs, dreamily. He stops and wiggles his hand out of the tight embrace of your thighs. You take a deep breath and blink away tears, focusing on the comforting movement of his hands caressing your thighs. He can see the way you look at his body. His chest, the sculpted muscles of his abdomen, the pale happy trail that leads to a part of him that you are unfamiliar with.

He crawls over you, his lower body wedged between your legs. "Don't be scared to touch," he says, his tone sultry. He grabs ahold of your hand and places it on his chest, initiating the contact for you. You take control and allow your hands to roam his body. Like you're in a room full of random unpressed buttons, you explore the different reactions you get from touching different parts of him. You discovered that his nipples are sensitive. He groaned into your neck when you palmed at his pecs and borderline whimpered when you focused your touch on his peaks. He shuddered when you traced along his ribs, but once you neared his stomach and waist, things got hot for you all over again. Your heart raced as he breathed into your neck due to the feeling of your nails gently scratching along his abs. He was rutting his clothed bulge against your cunt, desperate, low moans leaving him with every graze of your nails along his waist.

"F-Fuck, I can't wait anymore. Please, let me in." He whips out the cutest puppy eyes you've ever seen, and though they're unnecessary, you're not opposed to him having to resort to those means.

"Y-Yeah, okay," you breathe, feeling the throbbing in your cunt intensify when he stopped rolling his hips against you.

He's rushing, his movement stuttered and his hands shaking with desperation as he works his boxers off. He's impressed with the amount of precum that went into them, but he doesn't waste time admiring the mess any longer once he frees his achingly hard, drooling cock. It's sensitive to the touch. He'll cum if he doesn't play his cards right while lathering his length with the essence that beads at his tip. With that taken care of, he comes close to you again.

"This is gonna be the slowest start ever," he says under his breath, eyeing that sweet little smile on your face, like you understand the turmoil he's going through with just trying to get inside you. His tip nudges your clit, spreading some of his precum onto the nub as he guides it up and down your slit a couple times. He's working himself up to sinking in because he knows how wet you are. After a few more strokes, he presses just the tip in, nestling it into your warmth with a groan. You gasp as he slowly drives himself into you, the stretch his girth induces proving to be immense. He tries to steady his stuttering hips as he pushes more of his length in.

"Little more, just a liiittle more," he says through soft breaths, more to himself than you. Once he glides the rest of his length in, he feels like he's going to explode. He's throbbing so hard and you're not helping at all with the brief, inconsistent spasming of your walls. "Oh fuck... shit," he whimpers, thrusting only halfway into you. "Sorry—fuck—s-sorry... I can't-" He gasps when he thrusts the rest of the way in, spewing his load as he just grinds against you.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, his eyes shut tightly, his jaw hanging ajar to release shaky breaths. His cheeks, neck and chest are blazed, bright color smothered over his pale skin.

"Shit..." he rasps, still taking deep breaths.

You can't even ridicule him for this when he looks so fine. The laugh he let out was enough to make your thighs twitch.

"It's alright, Satoru. It's getting pretty late, anyway."

"No-the-fuck it's not," he says, looking down at you with the smallest crease between his brows. He's wanted this—wanted you—for way too long and he can't leave your room without showing you just how badly he desires you. It's a need, at this point.

A chill runs down your spine and your heart drops at his response.

"I mean, i'm not tired. Are you?" He asks, softening a little after coming in so hot with his last response.

You're not and even if you were, it's those eyes... They compel you to want to do things for his sake. They're so soft and you feel wanted beneath their force. You feel everything he said to you in the car when you peer into his eyes.

"No. I'm not tired either," you respond, which instantly puts a smile on his face.

"Good. Let me try again."

Neither of you mentioned any of what happened within that quick span of time. No mentions of him spilling the second he got inside you or you trying to end the night to save him the embarrassment, and it turned out for the better. No awkwardness once he recovered and went back to proving his love for you. He went straight into it, thrusting at a slow pace to start you off. He held onto your hips as he leaned in and kissed all over your chest, sucking your delicate skin to leave little reminders of him for you to see in the morning.

He groans, muffled by your warm skin, when you scratch the back of his head, guiding your nails through the short hairs of his undercut and down the nape of his neck. He's purring like a satisfied cat, the soft breaths he lets out through his nose grazing your neck.

With all these good feelings comes Satoru picking up the pace. His hips meet yours a little more quickly and suddenly both of you get a little more courage to make more sound.

"Fuck," you whimper. "Satoru... S-Satoru..."

"I know..." he grunts. "I know, baby. I feel really good, too."

You just look so damn pretty, with your starry eyes and your messy hair, and the way you keep moaning his name. He has to kiss you again. Each time he kissed you before was accompanied by fireworks. This time... who knows? He certainly won't unless he gains the courage to do it once more.

He leans forward and stares deep into your eyes. The level of intimacy has doubled down and you feel like your heart is trying even harder to lurch out of your chest. He's not stopping, you can feel his breath on your lips as he pants through the exertion of his hips. Then, once again, with a whimper as he closes the distance between your mouths, he kisses you. It's not fireworks this time, it's an entire fire and you kissing him back like you need him just as much is fanning the wild flames.

"Love... you," he disperses the words through his kisses. He doesn't only say it once. He says it multiple times as your lips are moving, making those pauses purposeful. "Fuck– I love you," he repeats, breaking the kiss when you don't say anything. "Come on," he chuckles. "Say it back."

"Satoru..." you say, softly.

"You say it all the time to us. What's another time?"

You bite back a laugh when you see those brilliant eyes again. He knows the effect they have on people and uses them to his advantage.

"It doesn't..." he groans, cursing under his breath when you suddenly clench around him. "...have to mean anything more than it usually does."

You're hesitant, but figure that as long as he doesn't take it as more than what he's used to—at least until things are talked through—there can't be any harm in saying what he wants to hear.

"Love you, 'toru."

The words are way too sweet, too gentle on his ears. The smile you offered as you delivered those words was devastatingly beautiful. You've said this a million times, each time so friendly, so lovingly, the meaning never feigned or faded with its repetition, but in that moment, he felt the words more than he ever did before. Your plush thighs are pressed against his hips, your hands are on his chest, and he can still smell that perfume you spritzed on your skin before you left. He's never heard you like this before, so sultry that it almost seems like an invasion of privacy.

"Again... say it again, p-please." With the scene that is playing out before his very eyes, he wants to imagine you meaning it as a term for lovers.

"I-I..." you let out a sharp gasp, your words cut off by the feeling of his cock brushing against that weak spot within you. "I love y-you, Satoru."

You're saying it to him only, right now. It's not 'I love you guys', it's 'I love you, Satoru', and he's drowning in it all. Your voice, the words, the blissed out look on your face. He's weak.

"Yeah?" He laughs, sounding almost delirious from how good he feels and how he's trying so hard not to cum.

"Mhm," you respond.

"T-That's good to know," he says, breathily. He's picking up the pace again, almost knocking the wind out of you with that first thrust in the change of pace. You're scratching up his back, wrapping your legs around his waist while he moans into the crook of your neck.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum, again."

"Please... cum inside," you babble, nonsensically.

"Yeah? You want it inside again?" He asks, grinning when you hum and nod in confirmation. Who is he to deny you of such a simple want?

With a few more harder thrusts, he's filling you to the brim again with his warm cum. He's breathing heavily into your neck, mouthing at your skin sloppily as your cunt flutters around him. He's babbling on and on asking you if you came and if you feel good, while you're trying not to cry out too loudly from how hard you did. It's only until he unsticks himself from your tacky skin that he sees the aftermath of your orgasm. Your lidded eyes, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your shuddered breaths brushing past your lips. He's thinking about it again. No one deserves you, but clearly, he was the closest.

He tosses himself beside you once you both come down. Your blanket is shared between the two of you, it reaches just above your chest and above Satoru's hips.

He sighs as he turns over to face you as you stare up at the ceiling. "You think they heard us?" He asks, voice low and intimate, yet a mischievous smirk that tells you he wouldn't care if they did, plays on his lips.

"Not sure. I guess we'll find out tomorrow." Now it's your turn to sigh. You don't even want to think about how weird breakfast might be in the morning.

"Hey," he calls for your attention. You turn onto your side to face him, keeping the blanket close to your body. "It's gonna be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They tease us or call us dumb?" You give him a soft smile. Normally, you're the one calling him dumb while the others agree. "Don't know about you, but I don't mind. They don't know the story, anyway. Right?"

"Right."

Time slowed down in that moment. You both just stared at each other in silence, thinking about what just happened. You were comfortable together, lying there, satisfied with your decisions. He pulled you closer by your blanket covered waist and pressed kisses into your cheek, enough to make you giggle until you started returning the kisses. To anybody, this would be considered a sight of two lovers taking care of each other after a night of intimacy. The whispered words, the quiet laughter between kisses, the gentle drags of fingers on harsh marks—it all points to love. You think things might be okay, after all.

It took a while for you and Satoru to untangle yourselves from each other. Eventually, he got up and dressed into everything but his messy boxers. You weren't going to get back into your dress so you laid back for a while and watched as he collected himself.

"Well... I'll see you in the morning." His hand is on the doorknob and he's looking at you, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body as if he's trying to memorize you all over again within the short span of his goodnight to you.

"Mhm. Goodnight."

He pulls the door open, still not detaching his gaze from you. "Goodnight," he says, his voice low, yet warm and brimming with love. He spares one more soft smile for you, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind him.

You think you finally understand why he's so hung up on the way you say goodnight.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Surprise Marriage

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you and Logan receive some...surprising news, it leads to a lot of unanswered questions.

Disclaimer: One or two swear words here and there. Mostly fluff, chaos, little angst, yearning, kissing and a happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The morning, so far, had been slow for Logan. 

Which, thankfully, due to the last couple of years, wasn’t out of the ordinary. Sure, a kid or two might forget to have done their homework or the coffee filter hadn’t been changed. But other than the small, common, everyday mishaps, everything had been pretty normal. 

But somehow, when Logan woke up, something felt off. 

Maybe it was the quiet hallways, maybe it was the fact he hadn’t seen any other professors in the break room or around the school, or maybe it was the fact that when he walked into the Professor's office, everyone looked at him with…worry. 

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Logan, I think it’s best if you sit down.”

Logan looked around everybody and they all looked worried, too. Not “someone’s dead” worried, but worried enough to make him feel uneasy. 

“What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Y/n today?”

Logan shook his head. “She had a late night. She’s probably still sleeping.”

Professor X looked at Storm. “Go and get her for me, please.”

Storm nodded and made her way out of the door and towards your bedroom. Meanwhile, Logan was still confused. 

“Charles, what’s going on?”

The man took a small sigh and looked at the papers on his desk before looking back up to Logan. 

“Come on, clearly everyone else knows. What is it?”

The Professor went back and forth with himself for a minute before finally looking back up. “I suppose I should tell you. You’re married, Logan.”

Logan laughed. “Excuse me?”

“I received these papers this morning from a law firm in Oklahoma. It seems it took them a while to find an address for you both.”

“Both? What?”

“Here, take a look for yourself.” The Professor pushed the papers to the edge of his desk where Logan took them with caution and a lot of confusion. 

“What the hell? When were these even..drawn up? Better yet, who’s my wife?”

“Well, that would be the other question except-”

Just as the Professor was about to finish his sentence, the door to his office opened and Storm walked in with you not far behind. Everyone looked at you…worriedly. Like they knew something you didn’t. 

Logan looked annoyed as he flipped through a couple sheets of paper but when he saw you, he held the same expression but only for a minute then it turned into…into something else. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

Then you remembered. 

It had been laundry day. 

And you wore one of his shirts to bed. 

Standing in his t-shirt and some plaid pyjama shorts that you found in the back of your wardrobe, your hair down and slightly messy from having only just woken up, you looked around everyone. 

“What’s going on?”

“Well, Y/n-”

“Take a look at this.” Logan handed you the pile of paper he had been reading, and with a slightly tired and confused look, you read through it. 

What was it meant to be? A news article? A government contract? A kid’s essay who’s handwriting they couldn’t read…again?

But no. 

It was anything but. 

Well, maybe a government contract…of sorts. 

“This is a marriage licence.” You spoke aloud. “Logan, why am I looking at a marriage licence at eight in the morning? Oh my god, are Jean and Scott finally getting hitched. About time.”

“No,” Logan said. “It’s ours.”

“What?”

“It’s ours. We’re married.”

You stopped reading. Even if you had pretended to do so, all the words on the page suddenly became blocks of ink that you couldn’t make out. 

“What?”

Then the Professor started to explain. “We were hoping one of you could explain this to us, though if neither of you wish to, that’s completely fine. What happens between a husband and wife is none of our-”

“When did this even happen?” You asked Logan. 

“I don’t know.”

“A law firm in Oklahoma sent it over. Apparently it’s taken them a while to find your address.”

You thought for a moment. Yourself and Logan hadn’t been in Oklahoma for nearly ten months. And you certainly didn’t get married. At least, not from memory. 

“I need to sit down.”

Logan pushed out the chair beside him with his foot and you fell into the softer leather. You had just woken up and all of a sudden you felt like you wanted to sleep for at least a month. 

“We’re married? Are you sure it’s ours? Maybe they got the addresses mixed up and…I don’t know. Got it wrong?”

Logan leaned back and pressed his hand to the side of his face. “Flipped to the back page.”

And so you did. 

There was your name. And Logan’s. Signed and dated. 

You were married to Logan. 

Logan had become your husband as of ten months ago. 

You had become Logan’s wife. 

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Scott said. Jean hit him on the arm. “What?”

“Hard to not be a little offended at that.” Logan said, half under his breath, half to you. 

“Do either of you know when this happened?”

You shook your head, still trying to read the pieces of paper in front of you. When could this have-

“The library.”

“What?” 

Logan sat up. “We signed for a package. What kind of delivery company has us sign a marriage contract instead?”

“I don’t know but it had to be there. That’s the only time we ever…wrote our names, signed a piece of paper. It could have been this.”

“We would have noticed if it said “MARRIAGE LICENCE” at the top of the page.”

Then the bell rang. 

“We…should pick this up later. For now, let's just try and go about today as normal.”

You could only nod in agreement. And as everyone left, the Professor turned to both you and Logan who were sitting facing each other in your chairs. 

“I’ll give you both some time.”

Logan nodded a small thank you and waited until the door closed behind Xavier before he spoke. 

You were silent. Still processing. Your heart was like rapid fire against your chest and your vision was slowly losing focus on the paper in front of you. 

Logan pulled the paper from your hands and placed it on the desk before shuffling closer and holding onto both of your hands. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” One of Logan’s hands came to rest by the side of your face. “Just breathe. I can hear your heartbeat from here. Just…take a deep breath.”

“We’re married, Logan.” Your voice was quieter than usual. 

“I know.”

“We’re married.”

Logan nodded. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That one I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

You shrugged. “What are we meant to do? By all technicality��we’re married. Husband and Wife. According to this piece of paper, I’ve been a fraud to the government by not going by Howlett.”

“So we…we get a divorce?”

“How? Don’t there have to be…grounds for getting divorced?”

“So, we tell them it was a mistake.” Logan offered. “I’m sure we’ll be divorced as quick as we found out we were- are married.”

You could only nod. 

Logan rubbed a thumb over each of your knuckles. “Hey, we’ll be okay. It’ll all be fine. Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I woke up and found out I’m a wife with a husband. That’s what’s going on. Jesus, are the lights always this bright in here?”

You covered your closed eyes with one hand, trying your best to stop the pounding in your head. 

“How can you be so calm about this?”

Logan shrugged. “Figure you’re freaking out enough for the both of us.”

That made you laugh a little. 

“Come on, we need to get to class. And you need to get dressed. Unless you want to teach in your pyjamas.”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about using your t-shirt. Laundry day.”

Logan smiled. “It’s okay. Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

Hours later, you found yourself in a pair of jeans you fished from the bottom of your semi-fresh clothes pile and decided to keep Logan’s t-shirt on. A, because it’s one of the most comfortable things you’ve worn, and B, it was the only clean top you had. 

And after spending all day teaching classes, you found yourself going through each of your dirty items and throwing them into the washing machine, being careful to make sure there were no sneaky bright or dark colours that made their way into a wash they shouldn’t have been in. 

“Hey.”

You turned to find Storm waiting by the door before walking inside. 

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“After teaching a bunch of teenagers all day? Exhausted.” You said with a small laugh. And Storm chuckled for a moment before walking around you and leaning on the wall so she was facing you as you unloaded your dirty laundry into the machine. 

“I know that feeling but that wasn’t why I was asking.”

You nodded. You knew that. “I don’t know. It’s just…new information.”

“Have you seen Logan today?”

You shook your head. “Not since this morning. Though he did leave a coffee on my desk when I got back to my classroom after lunch.”

Storm smiled. Between herself and the others (including the kids - though they were yet to find out) Storm thought the best thing to happen was for yourself and Logan to get married. Okay, maybe not in the way it happened. But it was a positive thing. 

They had been watching you and Logan for years, becoming friends, becoming teammates, trusting each other, finding your own…ways together. Like with the coffee. Logan only did that with you. Or how, despite only knowing him a week, seemed to know more about him than anyone else did. 

You were both so close with each other than some of the kids in the school had questioned your relationship status with each other. 

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What can we do? The most reasonable, and sensible, thing to do is get a divorce.”

Storm crossed her arms. “Have you talked about maybe…staying together?”

“What?”

Storm shrugged. “It’s an idea. Maybe this is a sign telling you both that there’s something more than just friendship. I mean, going off what you’re currently wearing…that is his, isn’t it?”

You looked down. 

“It’s laundry day. He let me wear it.”

“And are you going to give it back, or did he tell you to keep it?”

You were silent and Storm watched as small patches of blush warmed your cheeks. She had her answer. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is your chance to see if there is something more between you and Logan.”

“If there was, something would have happened by now.”

Oh, how Storm wished that was true. 

But sometimes it was agony watching you both together. Like how at Christmas, you fell asleep against him by the fire and Logan smiled. It wasn’t a big grin, but he smiled. Or how you were the only one Logan would let near him when he had been impaled in his shoulder by a six foot rod. Or how you looked at him. And how he looked at you right back. 

There was more than just friendship. A lot more. 

“Just think about it.”

And with that she left. And you were left wondering. 

What the hell was there to think about? You and Logan were friends, sure, but…more? Sure, when you first met him, it felt instant. Instant likeness, instant trust. And that never came easy for you. Or Logan for that matter. And, yeah, maybe once or twice you had thought something could have happened. 

Like the night in the motel room, funnily enough, in Oklahoma. 

It had been one bed and you had both woken up and turned to face each other. You had both been talking for a good twenty minutes when the conversation lulled and you were both there. You felt something. You couldn’t put your finger on it but you felt something. But everything was cut short when the owner of the Motel came to knock on the door so he could fix the leaky tap in the bathroom. 

Or like the night when you all went camping with the kids. 

Somehow, you had found yourself sharing a tent with Logan even though it had been planned for you and Storm to bunk. 

You teased Logan on how happy he was to be bunked with you and not Scott. And for a split second, you could have sworn you saw him blush. Though it was probably out of embarrassment of your teasing. 

But that couldn’t have been something. It couldn’t have meant anything, could it?

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Logan turned and found the last person he expected to be standing by the door. 

“Scott?”

“Figured you’d still be awake and lo and behold, I was right.”

Logan watched as he walked inside and sat across from him. “Have you come to say something, or just be a dick the whole time?”

Scott chuckled, “Maybe a bit of both.”

Logan raised his eyebrows and took another drink. 

“Have you talked to her?” Logan knew exactly who he was talking about. But he shook his head. 

“Not since this morning.”

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What do you want, pal?”

Well, he wasn’t being Logan if he didn’t want to skip the pleasantries. 

“I think you and Y/n should give this thing a chance.”

“Excuse me?”

Scott smirked a little. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve not thought about it with her. How close you two are, how you both seem to know what the other does before they even do it. And call it what you want, I think this is the perfect excuse.”

“Perfect excuse?”

“To see if something can actually happen between you two.”

“And why should it?”

“Because you’re in love with her.”

For some reason, that felt like a punch to the gut to Logan. 

“Look, bub, I know-”

“Logan, the way you look at her isn’t the way a friend looks at another friend. I’ve seen the way you look at her. We all have. From day one, that girl has been something else for you, and even if you don’t know it, the rest of us do. You’re in love with her. You always have been.”

“No, I’m-”

“You can’t deny it, Logan.” Scott told him. “Eventually something is going to snap and it might be too late. So, you’ve done the whole relationship a little backwards. So what? You’d only get divorced anyway if it doesn’t work out. But you need to do something about your feelings, Logan.”

Logan had to laugh. “I think I’d know if I was in love with someone.”

Scott sighed. Did he seriously have to paint Logan a fucking picture. 

“You make her coffee every day. You bring her lunch and sit with her every day. She is the first person you go to when you finally want to ask someone for help. And I know for a fact she is the first person you tell anything to. She knows more about you than anyone else in this building does, and that is down to you and everything you have shared with her. Anytime anyone looks in her direction, you aren’t too far behind her.”

“I saw you, that day, when the Mayor and his brother turned up at the school.” Scott continued. “The way his brother was looking her up and down…Logan you were by her side in less than ten seconds and we all saw the look you gave him. That man left the Professor’s office trembling. He also never looked in y/n’s direction again.”

“What’s your point?”

“That you were jealous, Logan. And that, for as much as you can and probably will try and deny it. You love her.”

The conversation lulled for a moment. 

“All I’m saying is at least think about it. We’ve all seen you together. Maybe it’s time you finally noticed yourself.”

Logan didn’t see you until the next day when he caught you folding laundry in your room. 

“Want some help?”

You turned around and saw him. “Sure. You can start with that pile.”

Logan entered your room, a little more awkward than usual, and started folding clothes. 

“How are you…how are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Like normal, I guess. What about you?”

“Yeah, fine.”

IT was a slight struggle after that but conversation flowed a little easier eventually. 

That was something Logan always loved when it came to being around you. He wasn’t the biggest one for talking to people but with you, it was easy. Probably helped by the fact you could somehow change topics at lightning speed. 

Conversations with you were never, ever boring. 

Even when they were probably meant to be. 

And it wasn’t long before your fear surrounding being married…faded. 

Around a week later, a leak had sprung on one side of the school which meant having to bunk rooms for a while. Of course, all the kids went with their friends. 

But it also meant you had to bunk with someone too. 

“You can bunk with me.” Logan told you. 

You nodded. “Finally sharing a room. Wow, we’re really moving generations in this relationship.”

“After you, wife.”

This became a common theme, until the weight of the words settled down on both of you once more. 

A divorce lawyer had picked up your case. 

It would take a couple of weeks to get all the papers sorted, but yourself and Logan would be divorced by the middle of the following month. 

Like nothing had ever happened. 

Except, it just so happened, that was when something did happen. 

Scott and Storms’s words had been playing on Logan’s mind and yours. Not helped by the fact it wasn’t the last time someone held that kind of conversation with either of you. 

You found yourself in a similar conversation with Scott, whilst Logan had a similar conversation with Jean. 

And then the Professor approached you both, without the other one knowing. 

Except he hadn’t been to sit down and talk to you about it. He just made small comments in passing that left you both questioning more and more about your true feelings. 

And then Logan found you in the library one night. 

“Here you are. You didn’t come to bed so…what are you doing?”

Standing close to the top of the book ladder, you were scanning through different books with a flashlight.

“The main light is too big and the fire’s light doesn’t reach this far back.”

Logan blinked. “That…still didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve got a new semester of lessons set out. I wanted to get a head start on finding the books needed.”

Logan looked around. “You got a list?”

You looked at him. “Logan, it’s past midnight. Go to bed.”

“That’s not what I asked. Where’s your list? I know you’ve got one.”

Sighing, you reached into your back pocket and held it out. He walked over and plucked it from your fingers. 

“There’s twenty six books on this list.”

“And I currently have three. If you still want to help, any that you find, just place them on the table behind the sofa.”

And so he did. 

By two in the morning, you’d both found twenty three books in total. Just three more left. 

“Is this the right edition?”

“Let me see.”

Logan walked over to where you were still standing on the ladder and handed it up to you. You flipped through a couple of the first pages as you slowly climbed backwards down the stairs. 

“Yeah, this is the right one. The last two should be on a lower shelf.”

As you finally reached the last few steps, you felt your foot slip and your knees crashed against the bars. Except, instead of falling backwards, or rolling with the ladder itself, Logan’s hands steadied you. 

“You alright?”

You took a second to breathe. Having your life flash before your eyes for a couple of seconds really knocks the wind out of you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m fine.”

You turned in Logan’s arms and was met with his broad and solid chest as his hands held you at your waist. 

“Good,” Logan laughed a little, too. 

The sound of your life had always been like music to his ears. 

A comfort, even when the moment hadn’t been all that comfortable beforehand. 

And for that moment, time seemed to still. Any silence that had been in the room was slowly becoming defending, until your hearing focused on his breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the quickening of your own heartbeat. 

The flashlight that you had held in your hands had rolled somewhere onto the floor when you slipped on the ladder. 

But you had never seen Logan so…clearly. 

You had known him for so long and had even spent nights and mornings in the same bed together. But for the first time, you were committing him to memory. Part of you felt like these moments would go, once the papers came through. That even if neither of you wanted it, something would inherently change between you both once the papers were signed and delivered. 

But something in that moment was changing too. 

Like how you were realising you never wanted to be away from him. That the best place on this earth was right where you were. In his arms, his eyes on you, and yours on him. 

You found yourself leaning in forward, almost as if, if you didn’t get closer to him, he might disappear. 

And he was doing the same. 

One of his hands came up to your face as he rubbed a couple of strands of your hair between his fingers before he slowly pushed it back and let his gaze wash over you. 

He was committing you to memory, too. 

His eyes locked on yours once more, just as his other hand trailed down your waist and to your hip. 

You fell closer to him. 

Or maybe he pulled you closer. 

Either way, you never wanted to be without his touch. 

What felt like an eternity later, you finally felt his lips against yours and yours against his. 

It started off slow. This was new territory for you both when it came to the other. It was slow, full of mixed feelings and…something else. 

Then it snapped. 

Logan pushed a little harder and you felt your legs hit the back of the book ladder just as his hand and arm snaked around and up your back, holding you flush against him as your own arms pulled him closer to you. 

Logan braced the hand that had been by your face, by the side of your head, holding onto the book ladder, keeping you both steady. 

And he felt your breath hitch as he stepped into you. 

Before you knew it, you were braced against one of the bars on the ladder as Logan’s lips went from yours, across your jaw and down the column of your neck. A small grunt escaped him as your own fingers scratched through the back of his hair and down the back of his neck. 

However, just as his lips returned to yours and his hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt– his t-shirt, as your own started reaching for the hem of his…a clock went off. 

“W-w-w-w-w-wait. Wait. Stop.”

“Is everything okay?”

You swallowed. “Yes…no. I don’t know. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Logan wanted to ask “Why? Why shouldn't we?”. But instead, lowered his head. He knew why. 

“You’re right…you’re right.”

Your own temple came to rest against his for a few moments, neither of you wishing to leave the moment just yet. 

“We should go…before someone comes in.”

“It’s two in the morning, who is going to come in?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

You stayed quiet for a long time, feeling Logan’s fingers draw circles over your skin. Eventually, the only sound you heard was his heartbeat and his breath, slowly matching your own. 

But no matter how much of you told you to stay, you tried your best to fight it. 

You and Logan were friends. Friends who were about to get a divorce from a marriage neither of you could remember fully consenting to. 

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Reluctantly, you stepped out of his arms, his light grip on your hand not letting go until you were both too far apart to hold on any longer, and made your way through the school until you came across an empty room. 

It was the smaller quiet space that overlooked the back of the school. Perfect for the nights when too much noise was keeping you up at night. 

Except, it wasn’t noise keeping you awake. 

It was your own mind, relieving the one thing you thought you would never do with Logan. The one thing you wanted most to keep going. The one thing you would never forget. 

When Logan woke the next day, part of him thought it was all a dream. But even he couldn’t have dreamed up anything from the night before and have it still feel so real in the morning. 

Then he didn’t see you for three days. 

Save for one moment when he brought a box of your things from his room, to yours. You opened the door, wearing another one of his t-shirts. One that went missing months ago. One that he had seen on your at least a dozen times since. One that he felt he was truly seeing for the first time, on you. 

The exchange, coming from the both of you together, couldn’t have felt anything more than awkward. 

And then another moment hit. 

You didn’t close the door. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

All he knew was that he wished he was back with you, in the library. 

And you were wishing the same thing right back. 

“I should-”

“You should-”

A small, awkward laugh came from both of you before eventually you shut the door, wishing you had enough confidence to open it back up and call after him. 

Two days later, Logan hadn’t seen you at all. 

And a morning meeting, with Storm going to get you from your bed, led to Logan realising why he hadn’t seen you. 

“She’s not there?”

Logan turned immediately. “What?”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She’s not in her room or any other place she usually is this early in the morning.”

“Doesn’t she have classes to teach?” Scott asked. 

“She doesn’t teach Wednesday and Thursday.” Logan told him. 

And it wasn’t long before Logan heard his name being called behind him by Xavier as he marched his way out of the office and to every room he could think you would be. 

You were nowhere to be found. It was almost like you hadn’t been there for weeks. The books you had taken out – the ones Logan had helped you find – were piled neatly in your bedroom. On your desk, you had a small wicker basket filled with letters and postcards, all arranged in date order, the newest ones being at the front. 

The pictures you had on your windowsill displayed all the people you loved the most. And included a picture from when you had ambushed him on his birthday. He rarely, if ever, took a photo. 

But he smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, with you. 

“Where could she have gone?”

Logan looked around your room. You wouldn’t have just gotten up and left for good. You loved teaching your kids too much, despite whatever else had happened. 

Then Logan saw the framed pictures on the wall, just across from your bed. 

“I’ll check with Cyerbro. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She could be half way across the world by now!”

Logan shook his head. “But she’s not.”

A lot of them were confused, but Xavier watched Logan for a moment. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“I have an idea.”

With that, Logan reached for the wall and pulled down one of the smaller frames and carried it out with him.

“Hold on, I’m coming with you.” Storm called out to him. 

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Logan, you look like you’re just about ready to punch a bull. I know, right now, even if you are the last person she wants to see, you are the first person she needs. But that also means I know what you’re going to do and, love you or not, Y/n wouldn’t want you to hurt someone or even yourself to find her.”

And Storm was right. 

And she was right to tag along. 

Because just five hours later, Logan had pulled up outside a local pharmacy. They had received a call on the way; they were heading in the right direction, but they needed to go into the town first. Any chance of finding where she was in the mountains lay where she had been all day. 

And it wasn’t long before Storm had to step in to stop Logan from almost killing the cashier. 

He had been dancing around the question, leading them all on different tangents of conversation about the town and the people in it before finally he got to his answer.

The cashier nodded. “I don’t know where she lives, but Connie might. She knows everything in the town.”

“Where is Connie?”

The cashier pointed out of the door. ��In the bakery, across the street.”

“Thank you,” Logan told him, swiping the picture back up from the counter and walking outside. Storm stopped short behind Logan when she saw he wasn’t moving off the sidewalk. 

Then she saw. 

You had just left the building and climbed inside your beaten up, old Jeep Wrangler. You pulled out of your parking spot and drove off down the street. 

And Logan followed. 

However, halfway up the road, he started to recognise the place. He’d been here before, except he was going up the way he would come down and out of the cabin. 

So, he took a turn. 

He was at your cabin ten minutes before you were. Storm had stayed behind in the town to call the others and let them know what was going on. 

“You fixed her up well.”

You jumped at his voice and threw a can of pumpkin puree at his head. Though he managed to catch it before his head made a dent in the can. 

“Jesus, Logan.” Then you realised. “How did you find me?”

“You forget that I know you. The pictures on your wall. They’re a lot more recent.”

You didn’t know what else to say so you turned back to your front door and pushed it open, Logan hurrying after you. 

“Why did you leave?” He called out, placing the can on the side. 

“I didn’t leave.” You called back as you unpacked some of your groceries. 

“You disappeared into thin air but you weren’t abducted. I’d call that leaving.”

“I needed a break, Logan. I needed…time.”

“Time from what?”

“From everything. From you, from marriage, from the school, from the library. It’s like I woke up one morning and, quite literally, everything had changed. One day we were- we were teachers and friends…we were us, Logan. And then…we kissed and…I don’t know what we’re meant to do, Logan.” You dropped your head as you pressed your palms onto the kitchen counter.

“Maybe we’re meant to do nothing.” Logan walked towards you. “Maybe we keep things as they are.”

“What? Single and married?”

Logan shook his head, bringing his hand to pull yours to look at him. 

“Married and together.”

Your lips parted for a moment, your eyes scanning his face, waiting for the joke to have its punchline. 

“So, we did everything a little backwards?” Logan shrugged. “So what.”

“Logan…”

“I love you, y/n.” Logan told you, nothing but seriousness and truth in his eyes. “And I think you love me, too. But you’re scared. And so am I. Do you love me, y/n?”

You were trying your hardest to keep your emotions inside you, but something was failing. “Of course I do.”

“Then we start here, just you and me.”

“If something goes wrong, I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Logan.”

Logan smirked. “Good job I can regenerate.”

You scoffed and hit him in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I know. You’re not going to lose me, Y/n. You couldn’t ever.”

“Promise me.”

Logan nodded. “I promise. Can I kiss you now?”

Logan didn’t have time to finish his question before your lips met his in a searing kiss, your hands pulling him closer to you whilst his own arms wrapped around you. 

Maybe you had done the whole relationship thing backwards, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Not when you finally had each other for life. 

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[laligraves]

chp.2 - poolside

morning run series

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.7k summary: Your nap is interrupted by Joel. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading (not enough so sorry for mistakes), Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, alcohol consumption, pet names, some degradation, breeding kink (yeah), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i'm still here <3! just busy with real life :( i don't have a huge plan for this series except to make little one shots here and there since i have a lot of fun with these two characters lol. other stuff on the way i promise <3

You left two days after that encounter with Joel Miller. Your head was still spinning and your pussy still sore, but the semester started and you needed to be back on campus. 

The first night back in your dorm, you debated throwing out the roses that now sat on your desk. You lasted 10 minutes just looking at them before you were touching yourself to the memory of him. You could still feel the scratch of his beard on your neck and remember the smell of his cologne. 

He’d put his phone number in your contact list and you debated calling him. But what would you even say? 

You should be mad at Joel for what he did. Yet somehow, he managed to reach into the deepest corners of your mind and fulfill one of your darkest fantasies. 

Now, back in town, you can’t help but feel a little excited to see him again. Even if the more sane part of your brain is trying to convince you to slap him across the face if he comes near.  

“Hey, lazy girl,” your sister calls out. 

“Hey,” you respond softly, not moving from your spot on the lounge chair. 

“I’m leaving. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, knowing you’ll probably spend the entire week swimming and sunbathing by the pool. 

“I left money on the counter and the keys to my car in case you need it.” 

“Okay, mom,” you say sarcastically. 

She throws a pool noodle at you and leaves with her friend after that, promising to text you when she reaches her destination. Any other time you’d be disappointed that your sister was leaving for a full week just as you arrived for summer vacation, but she’s been working so much that she deserves a trip. 

The stress from the semester leaves your body with each lap around the crisp pool and the warm sun. You go back into the house to make yourself a tequila soda and make your way back out to the chairs underneath the canopy. 

A sudden thought pops into your head as you look around the empty backyard. The fences are tall enough and the gate leading to the backyard is locked. Your sister doesn’t have cameras that face this side of the house yet, so there’s really no reason for you to be so nervous. 

You’ve never sunbathed in the nude, there’s just never been an opportunity for it. But now, with the house empty and the tequila coursing through your veins, it would be the perfect time to do so. 

Before the courage leaves you, you slip off the strings of the bikini and spread out on the lounge chair.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” you whisper. 

You eventually doze off, moving around until you’re once again face down. A text message from your sister lights up your screen, but at this point you’ve fallen asleep and don’t pay any mind to it. 

I forgot to tell you that Joel Miller from down the block is stopping by. He’s going to plant the roses Susan wants, but needs to take a look first. Help him with whatever he needs. Tell him thank you! 

You start to dream of Joel massaging sunscreen on your back, trailing his hands over your sides until they land on the soft, plump flesh of your ass. 

His hands massage and spread your cheeks open, presenting your asshole and pussy for his eyes. Joel lands a glob of spit right on your little winking star and you flinch slightly. 

“It’s okay, babydoll,” he coos. 

The tip of his finger circles your asshole just a bit, enough for you to shiver from the sensation. 

His fingers trail down to your pussy where he slowly teases a finger up and down your slit, gathering the wetness. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

You push back on his hand, overcome with need.

Joel laughs at your desperate attempts to fuck yourself on his hand and moves your thigh to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt. 

Before you have a chance to complain, he spreads you open and runs his tongue through your folds. Your hands grip the towel and you almost scream in surprise. 

At the scrape of his teeth on your inner thigh and the scratch of his beard on your skin, you begin to wake. This isn’t a dream.  

“What–” 

“‘bout time you woke up,” Joel growls. “Dreamin’ about me, babydoll?” 

You lift your head, slightly delirious, still grinding back on his face. 

“Joel, whatthefuck–” you whisper, words slurred from sleep. 

He tongues your entrance and swipes a finger over your clit, a movement that has you almost seeing stars. Joel ignores your pleas for him to wait, choosing instead to push two large fingers into your pussy. You choke down on your words at the stretch, still confused. 

“Can barely fit my fingers in this sweet cunt,” Joel says.  

“Wait–” you whimper, “fuck, wait.” 

With his fingers still in your pussy, he moves up to lie partially on top of you. He bites your shoulder, neck, runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. 

“No waiting, babydoll. Gotta stretch this tiny hole,”  

Vulgar. He’s so nasty with his words, still, your pussy beats with its own heartbeat. 

“Joel–” 

“All this time waitin’ for you to call me,” Joel hums into your ear, “just used me for my cock, didn’t you? Little slut.” 

“No, I didn’t. I–” 

“I knock you up?” 

You give a tiny, jerky shake of your head, no, unable to form words. 

“Guess we’ll have to try again, yeah?” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna’ fill up this pussy.”

“No—“

You mean to say it with conviction. But your voice wavers, and you cum right into the palm of his hand, soaking him.

You grind down on his hand and bite into the towel to muffle your screams. 

“Good girl,” Joel groans, “just love makin’ a mess, don’t cha’?”   

Your hands slowly let go of the towel and your body becomes limp. Joel stands from the chair and you hear the clatter of his belt and the soft rustle of his clothes landing on the ground. 

Your nap being interrupted by Joel is not something you were expecting. In fact, what is he doing here?

“Joel, what are you–” 

His hands reach for your hips and he’s flipping you over on your back, making room for himself between your thighs.

“Needa look at your pretty face and pretty tits while I fuck ‘ya.” 

“We can’t–” 

Joel’s calloused fingers pinch your hard-tipped nipples and as if your body is already conditioned for him, you push up right into his hands.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel groans. 

Before you know what’s happening, Joel leans down to drag his tongue over each peak. He bites, leaving only a hint of pain and shushing your needy whines. 

He grinds down between your open thighs, covering his cock in your slick. You moan and writhe on the lounge chair, twisting your hips with each bump of his mushroom head right on your swollen button. 

 “Joel, please,” you beg. 

But you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. The sane part of your brain tells you to put an end to this, to send Joel far away from you. But then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your mind goes blank.

Joel keeps biting, sucking, lapping at your tits until you feel the familiar sensation in your lower belly. As if sensing another orgasm, either from your moans or the way you're grinding up on his cock, Joel stops, placing a soft kiss on each nipple before leaning back. 

“I needed to taste those tits before I fuck ya’,” Joel rasps. 

You tremble beneath him, laying there in a sweaty heap. Joel’s face is slightly flushed and his chest rises with each ragged breath he takes. 

Fuck, he’s handsome. Salt and pepper hair, creases around his eyes, a hooked nose and a huge cock make him the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

The second he releases your hands, you drag your fingers down his hairy chest and over his soft belly. He’s hard and soft, muscular from working outside but with a belly that you want to lay your head on. 

He moves your hand away, linking his fingers through one of yours and uses his other hand to bump the tip of his length at your entrance. You try, in a small voice that’s just about surrendered to the lust swirling in your head, to stop Joel, suddenly remembering that this is not your house, but your sister’s. 

“Joel, my sister is inside–” 

He tsks in disappointment. “She’s gone for the week,” he interrupts, swirling the tip of his cock on your clit, “don’t lie to me, babydoll.”

Your mouth opens to ask how exactly he knows that, but Joel takes that moment to slide right in. A high-pitched squeal claws its way out of your mouth at the stretch of his cock. 

Joel groans, sounding almost pained. His eyes shut and his mouth drops open while you fight to push him off of you. You forgot just how large he was, and even if your cunt is slick and this isn’t the first time, it’s still a little painful. 

Joel places your hand above your head, still keeping his fingers linked, and uses his other hand to push up your thigh. His nose brushes yours and he gives you a soft kiss.  

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the pace. You don’t kiss him back, too preoccupied with the cock spearing inside of you and the loss of air in your lungs. 

“Too much–”, you mumble, “too much!” 

Joel moves his lips down your chin, the tip of his tongue dragging a hot path down your neck. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you try to catch your breath. Each thrust of his hips make you lightheaded. 

“No,” Joel murmurs into your neck, “you can take it, babydoll. Take it like a good girl.”  

With your free hand you try to push at his hips, for him to just give you a moment to breathe. Joel quickly takes your other hand and places it above your head, locking both of your wrists in his grasp. 

Your tits are in Joel’s face, pushed up by the arch of your back. Joel takes full advantage and runs his tongue over your swollen nipples. 

You’re not speaking coherently anymore. Between your pleas for him to slow down, please you whine with each hard thrust into your pussy. 

“Fuckin’ greedy,” Joel groans, “pussy keeps suckin’ me right back in.” 

“You’re so fucking nasty,” you mumble in half-hearted anger. 

But he’s right. Your pussy flutters with each slide of his cock and your thighs bracket his hips, keeping him as close as possible.

The thick head of his cock bumps your womb and you’re almost certain he’s growing bigger inside of you. You can smell him, his cologne and sweat, the scent of a man who spends his time working outside with his hands. 

If Joel were any other man, you’d hate the smell. But with him, it’s intoxicating. 

The first time together was quick, in his front yard where you were forced to stay quiet and take whatever he gave you. Now, your whimpers are loud and he’s in no rush to finish quickly. 

“Gonna breed this little cunt,” Joel slurs, “gonna make you a mommy.”

His hips move faster and tears begin to fall from the corner of your eyes. Joel invades your space and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Imprints of his teeth and his saliva are left on your neck, tits, and mouth. 

“You want that babydoll? Wanna make me a daddy?” 

Any other man, especially one who is practically a stranger would make you cringe. But Joel’s breeding kink doesn’t phase you. You fall into the fantasy of him cumming inside of you and giving you a baby. 

He pushes his tongue almost down your throat while he fucks you. You kiss him back and suck his tongue on instinct. He whimpers, a sound that makes your pussy tighten in response.  

“Jesus–,” Joel groans. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, “m–more, please!” 

The chair shakes with each of his thrusts, just about able to hold your combined weight. Joel lets go of your hands and leans back to watch his cock slide into you, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. 

Your hands reach for his sweaty chest, arms, caressing his heated skin. Joel pushes your thighs open and you hear every sticky, wet slide of his cock.

He’s suddenly sliding a hand underneath your neck. 

“Look, babydoll,” Joel gasps. 

You don’t pay him much attention, your eyes barely able to focus on his face.   

“C’mon–fuck.” 

You lean up on your elbows with the little energy you have left and watch his length, veiny and large, covered in your slick, piston in and out of you. 

If it didn’t feel so good, it would be almost scary to look at. Joel, so much larger and stronger than you, somehow able to fit so perfectly inside of you. 

You fall back on the lounge chair and Joel places your ankle on his shoulder. He turns his head to nip your soft skin, leaving another imprint of his teeth on your body. 

He pushes his thumb inside of your mouth and doesn’t even flinch as you bite down. 

“I almost drove down to that college of yours,” he moans, “wanted to drag you outta the dorm and fuck you in the hallway.” 

You moan around his thumb, lost in the fantasy of big, broad Joel dragging you by the hair and fucking you out in the open, in front of everyone to see. 

His words are slurred at this point. But he's so drunk on pure lust that he can’t help himself but keep talking. 

“Wanted to show everyone who owns this slut pussy.”  

The way he speaks to you should make you angry, but you pussy only flutters and squeezes as he calls you his little slut.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and gently slaps your cheek before swiping his spit-covered thumb over your clit. 

He swipes over your swollen bud, once, twice, using your spit and slick that now covers both of your lower bodies.

Your orgasm tears through you, washing over you in warm waves of bliss. 

Joel keeps fucking you, moving faster until his hips piston and you're being used as a toy while your orgasm courses through your body. 

He lays on top of you, keeping your thrashing and whimpering body bracketed onto the chair. Joel’s moans grow loud in your ear and you know he’s close. 

“Not inside–” you whimper, “don’t cum–” your words not having any real meaning behind them except to add to your fantasy. 

“Fuckin’ mine, my little cunt,” Joel snaps, “gonna cum in my babydoll–” 

He swells impossibly larger inside of you and then you feel it, the hot splash of cum. Ropes and ropes fill your cunt and he grinds his cock into you, buries his head in your neck and groans your name over and over again. 

Your body, still recovering from your orgasm from only a few moments ago, trembles once more. The warmth of his cum painting your womb shakes another one out of you. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts. Joel continues to whisper in your ear about how fuckin’ sweet you are and how you have the tiniest cunt ever, babydoll while his cock fills you with cum. 

Joel continues to lay on top of you and while he’s larger in every sense of the way, his weight is comforting. The setting sun is blocked by the canopy which you're grateful for because you don’t want him to move. 

“How are ya’ feeling?” Joel asks. 

You’ve almost fallen asleep at this point. 

“Full… and sore,” you whisper. 

“Maybe this time I’ll actually knock you up,” Joel whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You roll your eyes and push him off of you. 

“Not going to happen, old man. I’m on birth control. And we just met!"

“Shame,” he sighs dramatically. “How about I grill us some steaks?” 

[disneyprincemuke]

best dress * fem!driver

when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver

warnings: none

notes: i may have gotten carried away with this one… and this might have played out a LOT funnier in my head than it does written down

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> the aftermath

she pushes the door open and steps out of her racing home. she looks left and right cautiously, careful not to catch her colleagues’ attentions. there’s many nights she’d appreciate their companionship but tonight is not that night.

she can only step one down before her worst nightmare comes to life.

“hey, where are you going?” she turns her head, mouth agape as she meets lando’s curious eyes. his eyes scan her body and his head tilts. “and why are you all dressed up?”

she straightens her body and pats her dress down. she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air.

“um,” she trails off, glancing at the group of engineers walking past them without another thought. “i’m going out tonight.”

lando’s smile drops. “oh,” he slouches, “i was here to ask you if you wanted to grab drinks with us at the bar tonight.”

“hey lando, did you f- what are you wearing?” oscar’s jaw drops, nose scrunched up as he points at her in what can only be described as disgust. “where are you even going?”

“out,” she answers with gritted teeth, glancing at the gantries of the paddocks. it’s so close yet so far away. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’ve really got to go.”

“but you never turn down post-quali drinks at the bar,” lando frowns. he presses his palm against his chest and throws his head back. “i can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

oscar looks her up and down, eyebrow raising as it gets to the heels she’s put on. “why are you wearing heels? seriously, where the hell are you going?”

“exploring the city!”

“exploring the c– we’re here year after year. we know the best spots!” lando defends. “come on! we’re going to have so much fun!”

“you’re exploring the city in heels?”

she narrows her eyes down into a mean glare. of course this is the one time that oscar decides to remember she doesn’t wear high heels for exploration purposes. “yeah.”

“you know you want to come with us.” lando shimmies his shoulders, face hopeful that the driver would change her mind. but she still shakes her head and his smile immediately drops. “fine. be that way.”

“i’m sorry, i already arranged my plans even before we flew to miami,” she laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “if you guys are going out tomorrow, i’m free to join.”

lando intertwines his fingers. “okay. but if you cancel again, i’m crashing into you the next race.”

“okay,” she chuckles, readjusting the strap of her purse. “i’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

oscar rolls his eyes, but a smile still stretches his lips. “don’t get lost. it’s a big city, (y/n).”

“yeah, penelope’s doing amazing,” max nods, his arm resting on the back of lando’s chair. one of his legs over the other, he takes a swig of his beer. “she just started school recently.”

“oh, i s-“

“hold up!” lando holds his arm out to max’s chest, his scream startling everyone seated around the table. the light from his phone illuminates his face as everyone turns to him with a puzzled stare. “oh, my god!”

“what?” max answers just as enthusiastically, smacking lando’s thigh to get his attention. lando lifts the phone up into his face, squinting as he tries to make out the person in the picture.

“yeah, don’t cut me off,” george scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. “i was just asking if-“

“(y/n)’s out on a date!” lando yells, smacking max’s chest. he pushes himself off the chair and throws the phone into george’s lap. “dude, i knew it! i knew there was a reason she’s all dressed up!”

“seriously!” george screams towards his fellow brit.

“a date?” oscar scoffs, in absolute disbelief that his best friend could even have the ability to attract a man. “there’s no way.”

max grins sheepishly, handing the phone over to the australian. “i’m afraid so. someone saw her in a restaurant with a guy,” max states, “it’s all over instagram.”

oscar snorts, slowly analysing the grainy picture of the girl in a restaurant with somebody. sure, it’s similar to the dress she wore when they caught her sneaking out of the paddocks, but how sure can they be that it’s her?

“we should go and find her!” max suggests, his face lighting up and cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. he jumps in his seat and smacks george’s thigh lightly. “dude, let’s find her!”

“are you crazy?” george grabs max’s hand and throws it back at his body. “her date’s none of our business!”

though, lando disagrees with his friend. he clasps his hands together with a loud sound. “let’s go, gentlemen. we’re crashing (y/n)’s date.”

but only max stands up, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. “i’m ready. i’ve got my brave face on.”

“you look absolutely ridiculous,” george raises an eyebrow, “i don’t believe you used to scare off victoria’s suitors when you were younger.”

“me neither, but it somehow worked,” max nods proudly, turning slightly to look at george. “come on! this is practice for when it’s penelope’s turn! i have to make it believable this time.”

“you’re so drunk, mate,” george sighs. yet he still gets off his seat. “but i kinda want to see this with my own eyes.”

lando turns to oscar, still planted in his seat. lando doesn’t get to say a word before oscar starts shaking his head vigorously.

lando slouches. “why not?”

“i absolutely don’t believe that (y/n) is strong enough to take me in a normal fight,” oscar shakes his head, “but i’ve learned my lesson squeezing myself into a scenario that involves her dating life.”

george tilts his head. “what?”

oscar looks up, eyes scanning the three older men towering over him. “she gave me a really bad bruise one time when i scared off this guy that hit on her in the mall.”

“so?” max yanks oscar off his seat. “i’ll protect you. come on, i’ve got to see who’s sweeping (y/n) off her feet.”

“okay, but remember to tell her i tried to stop you,” oscar mutters, letting max push him towards the door.

after many dms sent on instagram, phone calls made, and struggles to find a taxi, the four have finally arrived at the restaurant. it’s a quiet establishment in the further end of the city, heads turning as passersby recognise the huddled men by the entrance.

“are you sure it’s this one?” oscar looks up at the sign. it’s a lot fancier than he expected. “doesn’t really seem like (y/n)’s gig.”

“if i were taking the grid’s princess out on a date, i’d take her to a fancy restaurant too,” max shrugs, following oscar’s stare.

the amount of time it took them to connect the puzzle pieces really sobered him up.

george taps his foot on the ground, craning his neck for a better look through the window. “are you sure it’s here? i don’t see her.”

“the girl that posted it said she was here when snapped the picture,” lando confirms, looking between his phone screen and the sign of the restaurant. “what if (y/n) tricked us knowing we’d come running?”

once the server comes back out, guiding them to their table, each of them does their own part to pick the girl from the crowd.

“i don’t see her,” max sighs, taking one last look at the restaurant’s tables and picking up the menu. “there’s no way we ditched the bar for a wild goose chase.”

“because she’s in the far corner over there,” oscar says nonchalantly, head flicking towards the other end of the restaurant where it’s slightly darker than normal. “i noticed her when we were outside the restaurant.”

george slowly turns his head to oscar. “while we were busting our asses looking for her?”

oscar shrugs, eyes boring into the menu for a snack to fill himself with. “i told you — i’m not getting another bruise for meddling with her love life.”

“nice! there’s a table closer to her!” max suddenly says, already on his feet to follow the waiter. he turns around and beckons his friends to follow him. “come on!”

they keep their heads low as the face of the familiar girl comes into sight. oscar even covers with his face with the menu, having learned his lesson from all those years ago.

they’re a table diagonal from her, menus up to cover their faces from her. “dude, who is she with?”

“i don’t know, i can’t get a look at his face without revealing mine,” george mutters, peeking slightly above his menu. he darts back down and rolls his eyes. “max, your turn.”

“don’t make it look obvious,” lando mutters, nudging max’s elbow with his. “look like you’re looking for a waiter.”

max swiftly turns in his seat, completely twisting his torso to get a look. but the man is faced away, the driver comfortably sitting in the booth seat as she giggles at something he said.

“dude, i can’t,” max shrugs, shying away behind his menu once more.

to the table next to them, a menu drops and reveals sebastian. “what are you idiots doing here?”

george’s jaw drops, pointing a finger at the older man. “we could ask you the same.”

“we saw her getting in a random ass car outside the paddocks.” the other menu across sebastian lowers, revealing logan with his hood covering his head. “we followed her here.”

“so you know who she’s with?” max asks in a hushed whisper, leaning towards their table. he looks down at the empty table. “you haven’t ordered anything?”

“it took us a while to get a table,” logan shrugs, pulling his hood further down to cover his face. “food’s in the kitchen.”

“oh, what did you get?” max asks, now looking back at the menu for something to order.

“mate!” george scolds, rolling his eyes before facing the other table. “who is she with?”

“according to blythe, it’s jacob elordi,” sebastian says, then shrugs with the roll of his eyes. “whoever that is.”

“oh, i’ve heard of him,” max nods, pressing his lips together. “he was in euphoria, wasn’t he?”

the table falls silent, heads turning to look at the dutchman as his confession falls from his lips. max notices their stares and he simply shrugs. “kelly and i like to watch shows over the break.”

“still not a show i expected you to be watching,” lando scoffs, turning slightly to get a glimpse of the girl once more. “isn’t he a bit too old for her?”

max straightens up, stiffly turning to look at lando. his head tilts as an unimpressed expression lands on his face. “dude. easy on the age gap.”

“yours doesn’t count,” lando sighs, “she’s practically a baby!”

oscar clicks his tongue. “but i mean… jacob elordi isn’t ugly, yes? an upgrade from her only boyfriend, right, max?”

max shrugs. “i guess.”

sebastian nods towards the table, his eyes suddenly widening at the empty booth seat. “where did she go? did she ditch him?”

“no, she caught you.” a low feminine voice makes all their heads turn to the end of the table. she looks down and pulls the hood off of logan’s head and shoves him forward slightly. “why are you here? you’re better than this!”

logan shrugs, chuckling slightly. “you were being secretive! i was just curious!”

“this is the last time i’m going on a date from the paddocks,” she grunts, stomping her heel into the ground. “go home, you guys! we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

sebastian hisses as the waiter stops behind her, dishes resting on top of the tray in his hands. “we already got some food.”

she narrows her eyes down, locking eyes with max. “you’re here too?”

max nods. “i suggested this,” his eyes go around the table, “team bonding activity.”

“i just wanted to see what would happen,” george admits. he points at max seated opposite him, “he said he wanted to scare off whoever your date is.”

“it’s true, i heard him say it,” lando nods, a small and guilty smile flashes at her. “we were just concerned about you.”

sebastian grabs her wrist gently, shaking her arm. “don’t be mad anymore. come on…”

“and you!” she points a finger at the australian sitting quietly between logan and george. his head snaps up at the yelp, wide and guilty eyes meeting hers. “i told you to stop meddling with my love life!”

“what?” oscar screams back, dropping his menu. “i was dragged here against my will!”

“i don’t believe you!”

“max!” oscar looks at max, then points at the furious girl as he awaits his explanation.

max stares at him for a second too long, and a giggle erupts from his throat. “right! right… we forced him here. he did not want another bruise, he said.”

“good,” she scolds, turning on her heel. “we’re leaving.”

“but we just got here!” lando squeaks. he cowers into his seat when she turns back around to glare at him, giving him flashbacks to a time when his mother would use it on him. “i mean, enjoy your time and don’t get too tired. it’s race day tomorrow.”

oscar doesn’t bother looking at her again. “see you tomorrow, loser.”

“where are you going?” george asks, a mischevious grin on his face to challenge her. “back to the hotel for some fun time?”

“a walk,” she sighs, dropping her head. she leans on the table. “my heels are killing me.”

“oh, i’ve got you,” sebastian mutters, disappearing underneath the table. out of his bag is a pair of doll shoes, the ones that she keeps in the garage when her time in the race car is over. “i saw these lying around aimlessly and thought i should keep them for you before it gets too dirty.”

she glares at him, hesitantly taking the shoes into her hand. “you took these from my room, didn’t you?”

sebastian shrugs. “you don’t wear heels very often, kid.”

“give me recommendations for date places,” logan smiles. “maybe next time i’ll have a girl out here with me. like you with jacob elordi.”

her mood changes back to what it was before: a mixture of irritation and not one of amusement. “i will kill you guys tomorrow. my date is waiting for me outside.”

oscar waves her towards the door. “i trust you’ll text logan and i about this later.”

“hey, i want in!” lando adds on, completely ignoring the girl walking away to the door.

“dude, this is seriously none of our business.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before she even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” she shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” the girl sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my god, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty kept looking back at her to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[violetskylights0]

Imagine waking up to a calm morning with Vi's exposed back facing towards you and just *sigh* admiring her beautiful tattoos 💕

I hope you don't mind I made it a litttttlllle...okay a lot hornier.

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

Mornings like this felt like stolen moments, sweet and unhurried. Vi lay sprawled on her side, her back exposed to you bear without her bandages for once, the two of you somehow squeezed into the too-small twin bed in your tiny apartment.

Her breaths rose and fell in a pattern you knew by heart. Occasionally, a soft sigh or a low grunt escaped her, depending on whatever dream she was lost in, and you watched her quietly, taking in every little detail. The way her silhouette curved under the baby blue sheet was mesmerizing, her hip invitingly close, as if daring you to pull her closer. Her scent—bergamot and cedarwood—lingered in the air, comforting and familiar, but it was the soft shaft of sunlight highlighting the ink on her back that held your gaze.

Carefully, you lifted your hand, letting your cool palm press gently against her warm skin, just enough to let her know you were there. She didn’t stir, her breathing steady, so you let your finger trace along the swirls of smoke in her tattoo. Starting at her arm, you followed the delicate lines, remembering the story she’d told you about getting it.

She’d laughed, telling you how the sting lasted only a few minutes before she got so comfortable she dozed off in the chair. The next day, everyone whispered about how tough she was, and you’d rolled your eyes as she flexed dramatically, showing off.

Your fingers drifted to the center of her back, following the circular design there, and just as you began to trace it, she stirred.

“Like what you see back there?” Vi mumbled, her voice rough and low from sleep, tinged with her usual teasing tone.

“You’re even annoyingly cocky first thing in the morning,” you said, smiling as you leaned in to press a kiss to the smoke near her shoulder.

“Cocky? Or just observant?” she shot back, her lips quirking into a smirk. “I seem to remember someone clawing at my back for hours last night…” She stretched, letting out a yawn, and you rolled your eyes before playfully smacking her back.

Vi flinched dramatically, tossing her shoulder forward like you’d hit her with a brick. “Ow! What the hell, Cupcake? Trying to take me out already?” she teased, shooting you a fake wounded look over her shoulder. “I knew you couldn’t handle all this,” she added with a smirk, her voice dripping with playful defiance as you dissolved into laughter.

“Maybe I do like them… just a little,” you admitted softly, your fingers trailing down the curve of her hip.

Vi arched an eyebrow without opening her eyes, that smirk growing wider. “Just a little? Or maybe you like what they do to you a little more?” she murmured, her voice dripping with mischief.

You didn’t answer, leaning in closer as your hand slipped around her hip, fingers brushing the front hem of her boxers. “Why don’t you remind me?” you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of her ear, your voice soft and playful, perfectly matching the warmth that settled between you.

Vi took in a sharp breath as your hand traveled further south to her sensitive numb. 

“Have a good dream about me pretty?” She let out a soft moan as you started rubbing your pointer and middle fingers in a small circular pattern. 

“Mmm not particularly.” You hummed placing chaste kisses on the back of her neck. 

“But something about staring at my beautiful girlfriend's prison tattoos will always get me.” You breathed out dipping your fingers a bit lower easily finding her entrance. 

You both sighed at the feeling of your fingers fitting snuggly inside her. You curled your fingers upward making Vi let out a whimper you found adorable and so hot at the same time. 

“Fuck.” She cursed her breath breaking its natural pattern as your palm rubbed against her clit as you increased your pace. 

“Getting close already? Did you have a good dream about me, my love?” You whispered against her skin kissing up her neck to her ear. 

“Mmm, it’s almost like my girlfriend being so desperate for me in the morning turns me on.” Vi moaned. 

“Only one way to make it better right?” You questioned sucking slightly sure to leave a hickey behind. 

You felt Vi tighten around your fingers a tell that she was on the edge. 

“Cum all over my fingers and show me what a good girl you can be.” You groaned in her ear. 

Vi gasped as her legs began to shake she let out a high-pitched moan while you felt the wetness begin to coat your fingers. 

You curled your finger a few more times for good measure making Vi whine as she rode out her high. 

You took your fingers out as Vi began to pant relaxing again as she turned to face you.

Vi turned to face you as she opened her mouth to make a smart-ass comment you quickly cut her off by taking the two fingers that were just inside her and pressing them to her lips her eyes widened as you pressed your lips against hers pulling put your fingers in a V position making sure to lick the string of her cum before your tongue started falling in rhythm with yours continuing your make-out for another minute before coming up for air. 

You both looked at each other as you began to see a familiar devious glint in her eyes. 

“Vi, wait! Remember, we’ve got errands to—” Your laughter cut off as Vi moved faster, pinning you down and swinging her leg over to straddle you.

“Errands can wait,” she smirked, her hands already sliding under your shirt. “After a kiss like that? Nah, Sweetheart, you’re not going anywhere. Not today.” Her voice was low and teasing, but the glint in her eyes made your heart race.

You couldn’t help but smile, biting your lip as you glanced toward the wall. “Sorry in advance, neighbors,” you thought, already knowing they’d have a lot to endure today.

[augustinewrites]

satoru absolutely does not know how to ride a bike idk how i know this but i know cw: suggestive content, mdni

“that was…good,” satoru settles on, still unable to properly articulate. he whines, still a little lightheaded and breathless as you roll off of him with a laugh, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before tucking yourself into his side.

“just good?” you tease, fingertips gliding over his chest. “if i’d known there was going to be a review, i’d have done that thing with my hips that you like.”

you roll your hips against his thigh, sending a warm chill down satoru’s spine. 

“don’t do that,” he warns, but his face is flushed and he can feel himself getting hard again. “unless you want to leave the kids at your dad’s for another night.”

“oh! speaking of the kids!” your sweet movements stop abruptly, causing him to peek one eye open to send you a long suffering look. “my father bought the kids bikes yesterday, and i told him you’d teach them how to ride them.”

now, it’s no secret that gojo satoru is good at a lot of things. 

he can manipulate the infinity around him and exorcise special grade curses with the flick of his wrist. he knows the words to every avicii song and can make mug cakes that don’t always explode in the microwave. 

there’s only one thing he can’t do. 

“i remember when my dad taught me,” you sigh. there’s a fondness in your eyes as you describe the memory. it’s something special and cherished, and satoru wants that for his kids. 

_____

“this isn’t funny, shoko!” 

“you’re right.”

“thank you—”

“because it’s hilarious. gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer of our time, never learned how to ride a bicycle.” 

she trails off in a fit of laughter. satoru hasn’t heard her laugh like this in a long time, and he’d be ecstatic if her amusement hadn’t come at his expense. 

“i didn’t have anyone willing to teach me!” he tells her, huffing. “it was all cursed technique this and cursed technique that. not to mention bikes are literal death traps on wheels.”

“motorcycles are death traps on wheels. bicycles are for babies,” she corrects, though he can still hear the laughter bubbling in her response. “why’d you even agree to teach them?”

“because she did this super hot thing with her hips, but focus!” he whispers harshly. “i can’t teach the kids how to ride a bike! what if i just bought a car—”

“only you would try to buy a car for an 11 year old.”

“not for megumi. tsumiki’s basically 13. she can start learning so when she’s old enough—”

“so tsumiki is going to learn how to drive before you learn how to ride a bike? you are so tragic,” she snickers. 

well, it sounds lame when she puts it like that.

he looks up when the sound of the shower running stops. “and you’re useless,” he growls into the phone. “i’ll ask nanami.” 

_____

NOT GOJO 

[shoko]: i heard gojo’s teaching the kids how to ride their bikes

[you]: yeah :) i’m so excited!

[shoko]: me too.

[shoko]: can you send videos?

[nanami]: I would also like to see videos. 

[you]: sure. but why the interest?

[shoko]: bcs i care about them and want to celebrate their achievements

[you]: you didn’t come to megumi’s violin recital because you said you valued your eardrums. 

[nanami]: It will be a fun moment to look back on when they’re older. 

[shoko] yeah that ^

[you]: fine i’ll send videos.

______

the sun is just beginning to set and the city beginning to settle when you take the kids to the park. 

“i really think—”

“satoru, we are not teaching megumi how to teleport to school.”

“but if he uses the shadows—”

you thrust a helmet into his hands, stern look shutting him up immediately. 

“fuck,” he mumbles once your back is turned to help the kids. he shoves the helmet onto his head and buckles it tightly.

the kids walk over to him with their little bikes, the huge helmets on their head making them look like bobble heads. 

you document his torture with a quick photo before giving him the floor. 

“riding a bike is…super simple,” he tells them, patting the seat of your bike. “you get on, put your feet on the pedals, and…pedal.”

the kids only stare at him, confused looks on their cute faces. 

“maybe you should just show them,” you suggest. 

“why don’t you show them?” he quickly deflects. please please please—

“no! i’m taking the video!” 

fuck.

satoru grips the handles of the bike tightly. he’s faced the worst of the worst, died and come back to life. he could ride a stupid bike.

he kicks at the stand your bike is leaning on, getting it up on the fourth kick. he swings his right leg over so he’s straddling the seat, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

it can’t be that hard, can it?

“watch and learn, kids.”

he takes a breath, then pushes off and places his feet on the pedals.

the bike rolls forward slowly. it’s wobbly at best, but he’s doing it. he’s doing it! he picks up a little momentum, heading off into the sunset—

“satoru! don’t lead them downhill!”

sure enough, the path in front of him leads down a slight decline. he squeezes the brakes and jerks to the side, sending him toppling over the bike and into the grass.

as he lays in the grass, dazed, megumi and tsumiki bike right past him. he’s sure the former even rolls his eyes.

“they have training wheels,” he says when you run over to check on him. “they’re cheating—”

“do you not know how to ride a bike?!”

“i never learned,” he grumbles, cheeks blushing at the admission. 

“oh, honey,” you sigh, brushing some grass from his shirt. “why didn’t you just tell me?”

you kiss his brow, unable to hold back your laughter as he pouts. “you were so excited about me teaching them. didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“you could never disappoint us,” you tell him firmly. “now come on, i’ll teach all three of you.”

so you teach him, holding onto the back of his bike until he’s steady, until he’s confident enough to do it on his own. 

he’ll get the hang of it eventually.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Smell Ya Later

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you get a new body cream that allegedly attracts spiders, and someone else

Masterlist

Whenever you needed a some space from your everyday routines, you packed up your stuff and spent the weekend in your room at the Stark Tower. You had spent the day shopping and picked up a few self care items, including a new body cream you had seen online. Once night had fallen and you felt you had shopped enough, you retreated back to your room and sat at your desk to look at the things you had bought.

“Let’s see how you smell.” You said as you twisted the cap off the body cream. You had barely raised the jar to your nose when Peter appeared the doorway of your room.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Jeez. You scared me. I didn’t know you were here tonight.” You laughed and put your hand over your pounding heart.

“Yeah, I’m spending the weekend here to give my aunt some time with her boyfriend. But, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was walking by and wanted to come say hi.” He laughed shyly.

“Oh. Well, hi.” You smiled and gave him a little wave.

“Mm. Something smells really good in here.” Peter sniffed the air as he walked into your room. You were pretty sure this was the first tike Peter was actually in your room and that made you gulp.

“Really? I don’t smell anything.”

“Maybe it’s just the air. Girls rooms always smell good.” He shrugged.

“Are you in a lot of girls rooms?” You asked teasingly but were dying to know the answer.

“No.” He chuckled. “But I remember from going over to girls houses for group projects and stuff in middle school. Plus, Natasha’s and Wanda’s room always smells good when I walk by. Not that I go around sniffing everyone’s rooms.”

“I’m starting to think you might.” You mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t, I swear. Did you just go shopping?” He laughed and leaned against your desk. You sucked in a sharp breath over the close proximity and nodded your head.

“I did. But I didn’t get anything exciting.”

“What do you mean? This looks very exciting. What is this?” Peter asked as he held up a fluffy headband with a large bow at the front.

“A headband to keep my hair out of my face when I wash it.”

“Oh. I thought it was a giant scrunchie. Or a really small tube top.” Peter pursed his lips as he turned the headband over in his hands to try and understand it.

“No. Neither.” You laughed shyly as you watched him touch your things.

“What’s this thing?” He asked and held up your heartless curls rod.

“It’s for heartless curls.” You replied, making Peter look at you in confusion.

“You know. Curling your hair. With no heat.”

“This tiny pool noodle curls your hair?” Peter asked in disbelief and held up the limp rod.

“Yes. You wrap it around this and sleep in it. Then you wake up with curly hair.” You explained and wrapped a strand of your hair around it to demonstrate.

“Okay. I’m getting closer to understanding. What role does this thing play in all of that that?” Peter asked as he picked up a claw clip from your desk and opened it a few times.

“You use this to clip the rod onto your head while you wrap your hair.” You informed him.

“Wow. Sometimes I feel like girls live in an entirely different secret world than boys. Like, I just put water in my hair and say I’m ready. But you guys have all these fun fancy contraptions.” He smiled as he played with a scrunchie on your desk.

“Yeah. I guess it is kinda fun.” You shrugged as you looked at all the silly contraptions laid out in your desk.

“Woah. What’s this thing?” Peter gasped and picked up your jade roller that was still in the package.

“It’s called a jade roller.”

“You’re gonna have to explain.” He said and looked to you for help.

“I haven’t tried it yet but basically you put it in the refrigerator and then roll it on your face to decrease puffiness in the morning.” You explained as you took it out of the box.

“And it works?”

“I don’t know. But it feels good.” You shrugged and rolled it up and down your cheek.

“I can’t imagine that medieval looking thing feeling good.” Peter mumbled.

“It does. Come here.” You beckoned him with your finger and he leaned down closer to your face. You smiled timidly at him as you rolled it up and down his face.

“See? It feels nice, right?” You asked in a soft voice.

“I’ve never experienced this feeling before.” Peter said and closed his eyes peacefully.

“You should get one.” You chuckled and rolled it on his forehead.

“I don’t know. Mr. Stark already made fun of me for my Lana Del Ray poster. If he sees this in my room he might think I’m a little weirdo.”

“Who cares what he thinks? He has a “nail girl” for his weekly manicures and pedicures. And I think it’s attractive when a guy cares about his hygiene. Which says a lot about my standards now that I say that out loud.” You realized and thought about that for a minute.

“Maybe I will get one then. Because I care about my hygiene. A lot. More than the other guys you know, I bet.” Peter bragged, making you laugh.

“I would not have a hard time believing that.” You answered honestly.

“Why do you need all this stuff anyway? You’re so pretty.” Peter asked as he gestured to all the things on your desk. Guy cracked a smile at his casual compliment but didn’t make a big deal out of it.

“It guess it’s like you said. It’s fun. I like using these things when I’m having quiet time by myself.”

“I like that. That’s something new I just learned about you. I also didn’t know your last name until right now.” Peter tapped a school paper on your desk that said your full name. You laughed as he stood up and headed towards your door. The moment was ending but it was the first time you really talked to Peter one on one in that way so you still took it as a win.

“Seriously. Something smells really good in here.” He said from your doorway.

“I think I smell it too now. Maybe somethings in the air.” You smiled shyly.

“Must be.” He smirked. “Goodnight, L/n.”

“Goodnight, Parker.” You called after him. Once he was gone, you stayed looking at the doorway with a starstruck smile on your face. You didn’t know what prompted Peter to talk to you all of the sudden but you were thankful to whatever it was.

The next day, you went downstairs for breakfast and found Natasha and Wanda in the kitchen. You stopped to talk to them for a minute as you finished rubbing your body cream onto your elbows.

“Ooo. You smell good. What is that?” Natasha asked you.

“It’s a body cream from that brand Sol De Janeiro. I’ve never used it before but it had good reviews.” You told her as you smelled your wrist to catch the scent again.

“Wow. It’s really nice.” She sniffed you again. “You smell like how Moana feels to watch.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. “But when did you watch Moana?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of luxury sunblock or every flower scented candle at Yankee Candle at once.” Wanda added.

“That description also works, thank you.” You nodded in agreement.

“That reminds me.” Natasha began. “I need to get a new perfume. I’ve become totally nose blind to mine and I can never tell-“

“Hey guys. Mmm. Something smells good. What is that?” Peter burst into the room suddenly full of energy while loudly sniffing the air. You smiled and waved at him and he immediately went over to you.

“It’s this one.” Wanda said and pointed to you. Peter put his hand on your back and stepped closer to you to taken whiff.

“Oh, yeah. It is you. You smell amazing.” He told you.

“Oh, thank you.” You laughed shyly. “It’s just my body cream.”

“God damn. It smells so good.” Peter gushed. “I’ve never smelled anything like that. What’s it called?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I could find out and tell you, though.” You offered.

“Yeah, sure. I probably wouldn’t use it because it smells like a woman angel that turned into a vanilla bean but I wouldn’t keep a jar around just to sniff. It smells amazing.” He insisted and moved close to you to inhale again.

“So you’ve said.” Natasha snorted and gave you a look. You gave her a confused look as Peter put his hands on your hips and nose right on your shoulder to smell you.

“Sorry. I just really love that scent. It makes me feel like that scene in Ratatouille.” Peter said.

“What scene?” You looked over your shoulder to ask him and tried not to scream over how he was holding you.

“When that guy eats the ratatouille.” He said simply. “Holy shit, L/n. You smell like a flower that was dipped in crystallized sugar and then rolled in fairy dust. I could smell you all day.”

Just then, Tony walked by and saw how close Peter was to you. He frowned when he heard Peter sniffing loudly and rolled up the magazine in his hand.

“Down boy. Bad. Off of her.” Tony said as he smacked Peter with the magazine.

“But she smells so good.” Peter whined.

“No. Bad. Bad boy.” Tony shook his head and continued hitting Peter with the magazine.

“Fine.” Peter grumbled. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You waved to him as he left the room. Once you were alone with the girls again, they looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” You wondered.

“How long has that been going on?” Wanda asked you.

“How long has what been going on?”

“You and Peter.” Natasha replied.

“What? There’s nothing going on between me and Peter.” You forced a laugh and looked to the side.

“Well he clearly wants there to be something. I have not seen a boy that down bad since high school. Wait, how old are you guys again? 14?” Wanda asked.

“22.” You corrected. “And Peter is not down bad for me. I’m pretty sure he likes this girl from his school.”

“What’s her name?” Natasha asked.

“Liz.” You answered immediately. “I mean, I don’t know. Who cares?”

“Oh, so the crush is mutual?” Wanda nodded in understating.

“No. Nothing is mutual.” You scoffed. “This isn’t liberty.”

“Oh, you have it so bad.” Natasha laughed at how flustered you were getting.

“Nuh uh. Maybe you like Peter and you’re trying to deflect. Ever think about that?” You asked her.

“Right. I like a middle schooler who cries to Lana Del Ray on weeknights.” She answered sarcastically.

“She has very moving music.” You defended him.

“I think it’s cute that you guys like each other.” Wanda said. “And it makes total sense for you to be together. You’re the same age and have a similar lifestyle. Why not tell him how you feel?”

“Because I don’t like him.” You insisted. “And he doesn’t like me.”

“If he doesn’t like you then why was he just using you like a scratch and sniff?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe he just likes to sniff things.” You shrugged. “Maybe that’s his thing.”

“Or maybe you’re his thing.” Natasha replied.

“Do you really think he likes me?” You asked them hopefully.

“I always kinda thought he did.” Wanda admitted. “And After that disturbing encounter, there’s no doubt in my mind. He’s definitely into you.”

“Hm.” You hummed and thought about it. You’d always had a secret crush on him and he had no idea so maybe it was possible that he felt the same way about you without you ever realizing.

You spent the day thinking about what the girls had said. Your thinking was interrupted when Peter returned to your room that night and took a whiff of the air.

“Mm. Smells good in here.” He noted.

“I have a candle on. I mean, lit.” You corrected yourself and pointed to your candle.

“Don’t knock it over and burn your room down. That happened to Brittany Spears, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” You insisted. “I watch all the videos of her spinning in her living room.”

“Same.” He laughed. “What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“I was gonna go grab food. Would you want to-“

“Yes.” You said immediately. You felt embarrassed for answering so fast but Peter didn’t seem to mind.

“Cool. Let’s go.” He said and nodded towards the door.

Thirty minutes later, you were sitting on a bench outside of Delmar’s with sandwiches and bottles of ice tea. Peter picked the place and you followed his lead when ordering because he seemed like a regular.

“And why is it flat?” You asked him as he held up his squished sandwich.

“Because it tastes better the flatter it is, duh. Try it.” He insisted and gestured to your squished sandwich. You gave him a skeptical look before giving it a bite.

“Okay. You might be on to something.” You admitted once you had swallowed.

“Thank you. Every few years my brain lets me have one good idea.” Peter said as he happily chewed his sandwich.

“What was the good idea before this one?”

“Chips in my sandwich.”

“I see. And are these ideas always sandwich related?” You chuckled.

“Wait.” He gasped. “Yeah. They are.”

“Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe you’re a natural born sandwich maker.” You shrugged.

“Maybe I’m Jersey Mike.” He gasped even louder, making you laugh. People were looking but you were too excited to be there with him to care.

“I was gonna say you’re Jared from Subway but I think he’s a pedophile or something.” You told him.

“What? No way.” Peter scoffed and pulled out his phone to google it.

“Oh damn. You’re right.” He realized. “Wow. Even Jared from Subway is a bad guy? Is no one safe?”.

“I mean, you could really say any male celebrities name and there’s like a 50% chance he has charges against him.” You shrugged.

“That’s so true. My record is clean, by the way.” Peter told you. “Until my identity gets revealed. Then I’m looking at a lifetime of property damages and breaking and entering charges.”

“Oh, for me too. I have trespassed more times than I’ve actually been invited somewhere.” You answered. Peter laughed and then looked at you fondly for a minute. You grew self conscious under his gaze and nervously cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry. I keep getting distracted by your perfume.” He admitted. “I can’t get over how good it smells. You smell like the freaking sugarplum fairy.”

“Thank you. You smell good too.” You complicated and nudged him a little.

“That’s because I stole some of Mr. Starks super expensive cologne before we left. He called me to his room once just to show me the price tag on it. I thought it was his social security number at first. And the bottle is so small. I thought it was stupid to spend so much on such a tiny bottle but now that I’m wearing it I feel like I really want to fire someone.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever felt that feeling.”

“Me either. Until today. I smell like a whole different tax bracket right now and I don’t know if I can go back to my Axe Dark Temptation spray. I don’t want to smell like the bourgeois anymore.”

“Thats so funny.” You chuckled. “Do you always take his cologne?”

“Never. Just for today because I knew I was gonna ask you to hang out.” He said before taking a bite. You paused and sat with the implication that he did something just to impress you.

“I’m flattered to know you stole for me.” You said with a coy smile.

“Well you always smell amazing so I didn’t want you to think you were hanging out with some stinky rat.” Peter explained.

“I would never say that about you. I must say, you’re the best smelling rat I’ve been around.”

“Since we live in New York, I’m taking that as a compliment and letting it inflate my ego.” Peter warned you.

“Your ego must be pretty big already though, right? If I was a guy your age who looked like you did and could do the things you can do, I’d be super annoying about it. Like, raise my hand in class using two fingers and ask a question that’s just a roundabout way to show off how intelligent I am kind of annoying.”

“Looks like me? Can you elaborate on that, please, miss?” He asked with a cheeky smile.

“You know.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Giant muscles. Giant brown eyes. I don’t know much about spiders but giant something else, I’m guessing. That spider bite served you well.”

“Stop. I’m shy.” Peter laughed and covered his face with his hands

“Come on.” You groaned. “You have to know you’re cute.”

“My aunt says I’m a handsome little lad.” He said and batted his eyelashes to make you laugh.

“She’s right.” You laughed. “But seriously. If my arms looked like that I’d only wear tight white shirts and ridiculously skinny jeans. And obviously slick my hair back like a Greaser. A full Soda Pop Curtis, if you will.”

“Oh, so you’re an Outsiders fan? This is me trying to maintain a regular conversation while hoping my heart rate returns to normal after being bombarded with compliments, by the way.” Peter said with a rosy blush on his face.

“I love The Outsiders. I’m still chasing the high I felt when my teacher played the movie for us in 5th grade and Soda Pop came out of the shower in the beginning. I think all the girls in that room remember that moment. I haven’t felt that way since.”

“Really? Never?”

“Maybe once or twice.” You smiled fondly at him.

“Well, to answer your question, I am actually a total loser at school and have an ego the size of a walnut. No one knows I can do the things I can do so I’m just another goofy goober on campus.”

“How can you saw you’re a goober when you’ve probably saved the life of every person in your school? More than once I might add.”

“Because I didn’t do that stuff. Spiderman did.” He explained. “When I’m on campus, I’m just me. It’s the only way to protect my identity. I have to let all the credit go to someone else.”

“Okay, I get not taking credit to remain humble and anonymous and what not, but what about all the other cool stuff you can do? I’ve seen you move a refrigerator with ease and casually run a mile without breaking a sweat. How do you resist the urge to show off all the time?”

“Because I wasn’t some sports star before I was bitten so it would be highly suspicious if I showed up one day and started dunking on everyone and breaking their ankles and third sports term. I only want to use my abilities to help people. Not to get popular.” He shrugged. As he spoke, you felt your crush on him turned into full blown infactuation. You’d always liked him from afar but now that you were getting to know him, he was even better than you thought.

“You’re better than me. I’d be doing backflips down the hallway and climbing on the walls. And if I got in trouble, I’d just be like “remember when New York wasn’t taken over by aliens? You’re welcome, bitch.” And then I’d swing away and probably kiss a cheerleader. Maybe even two.” You told him.

“Uh uh. My powers have definitely not gotten me any kisses from cheerleaders.” He laughed and shook his head.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend or anything?” You asked and couldn’t help but smile.

“No. My roster is empty. And I wish I could blame that on the Spiderman stuff but I can’t. I’ve never been lucky in that department.”

“I don’t understand that. You’re so…” You trailed off when you realized you were about to say too much. Peter looked at you with a coy smile and raised his eyebrows.

“So?” He asked.

“So annoying.” You insisted. “And ugly, actually.”

Luckily, he understood that you were saying the opposite of what you meant and smiled in appreciation.

“What about you? You must have a boyfriend and 10 guys lined up ready to take his place the second he falters, right?”

“11 guys.” You corrected.

“Damn. I’m sorry. I should’ve known.” He said and held up his hands in defense.

“It’s okay. How could you have known? But, um, no. No boyfriend.” You told him and watched carefully for a reaction.

“So you don’t like anyone at your school?”

“Not at school, no.”

“Oh. So there is someone.” He smirked.

“There may or may not be a boy. But he likes someone else so it doesn’t even matter.” You waved your hand in dismissal.

“Does he know you like him?” Peter asked. Your knees and elbows were touching as you sat together on that bench. You couldn’t help but notice he had gotten closer and closer as you talked.

“No.” You replied as you stared into Peter’s eyes.

“That’s obviously why he likes someone else.” Peter insisted. “I guarantee that if he knew he had a chance with you, he’d forget all about that other girl.”

“I don’t know. Do you really think that?” You asked skeptically.

“Definitely. He’d be crazy not to go for someone so…” He trailed off to give you a taste of your own medicine.

“So?” You shook his arm to urge him to continue.

“Ugly.” He replied. “Really, really ugly. Not pretty at all. Definitely not funny or charming. And a stinky rat. And ugly, if I didn’t mention that before. Ghoul like, even.”

“Thank you.” You smiled warmly, knowing he meant the opposite of what he was saying.

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled back. “So when are we doing this again?”

You did it again the next night, this time at a food truck you liked, and then a few days after that. That’s when Peter started giving you his weekends. You started hanging out more and more and grew to be close friends in just a short time. You lived at home during the week and could look forward to Peter’s almost nightly visits while he was on parol just to sit in your window and talk to you. He was so so consistent that you started leaving your bedroom door open just for him.

“I’m here. Don’t be naked.” Peter said as he climbed through your window one evening.

“I just got out of the shower. What if I was naked? Then what?” You asked as you rubbed your body cream into your skin.

“Then we’d have a funny story to tell at parties.” He said as he pulled his mask off. You couldn’t help but smile at the way his messy curls stood up on his head.

“Oh yeah? And what’s so funny about me being naked?” You teased him as you squeezed the excess water out of your hair with a towel.

“That’s not the funny part. The funny part would have been when my eyes sprang out from my head on slinkies and made an audible “boing-oing-oing” sound. Right before my head exploded and left a smoking stump on my neck.” Peter told you, making you playfully roll your eyes.

“Oh wow. Very Tom and Jerry of you.” You chuckled.

“A full Tom and Jerry. The only thing missing would be the little blue birds and or angles flying around my head but I didn’t say that one because it’s typically reserved for traumatic head injuries.”

“You’re stupid.” You laughed and shook your head endearingly at him. Peter smiled back at you

“You’re stupid.” He chuckled. “You smell good.”

You really liked being friends with Peter. The more time you spent with Peter, the more you found you could talk to him about anything. He seemed so interested in every little thing you said. You worried your crush suddenly taking an extreme interest in you might be too good to be true, so you were determined to enjoy it while it lasted. And do far, it had lasted two months.

“Hey you two. Are you gonna be hungry…” Tony trailed off when he assessed the situation in front of him. You and Peter turned your heads when you heard Peter’s bedroom door open, giving Tony a full view of the green face masks you had covering your faces. You were sitting on Peter’s bed and applying masks to each others faces so your hands were full of the green goop as well. Tony looked back and forth between the two of you for a minute but eyes kept returning to the giant pink bow headband Peter had on to hold his hair back.

“Oh.” Tony nodded. “Hm. Okay.”

“Hi Mr. Stark.” Peter waved.

“I was gonna ask if you guys were hungry. But now I don’t know how to feel.” Tony said with a blank expression.

“We’re okay. We door dashed some food. Thank you, though.” You replied.

“No problem. Try not to have too much fun, ladies.” Tony snickered and closed the door.

“He doesn’t get us.” Peter rolled his eyes and smeared some of the face mask across your forehead. You smiled at the mention of “us” and stared into his eyes.

“He wishes he was gonna have clarified skin and minimized pores in 45 minutes.” You agreed.

“45 minutes? Oh shit. We should’ve brought snacks.”

“I can go grab some. I need to pee anyway.” You told him and hoped off his bed. You hit up the kitchen after the bathroom and raised the refrigerator for some snacks. When you shut the refrigerator door, Natasha was standing there watching you.

“So. Having another stay at home date with Peter?” She asked and pointed to your face mask.

“It’s not a date.” You rolled your eyes. “We’re just two friends hanging out.”

“Right. And do you share clothes with all of your friends or just the ones you don’t have feelings for?” She asked sarcastically.

“He wasn’t wearing my pants that day, okay?” You sighed. “He just asked me to embroider little molecules into his jeans and then wanted me to sign my name. Which is very normal for two friends to do.”

“So that’s not his sweatshirt you have on now?” Natasha asked and pointed to the Museum of Natural History hoodie you had on.

“It is. But-“

“But. Mm hm, yeah?” She cut you off with sarcastic interest in her voice.

“Yes, but.” You stated. “It’s too small on him now that the bite made him all big and muscly. But his uncle bought it for him and it was too sentimental to throw away so he let me have it.”

“Oh. So he gave you an article of clothing that his dead uncle gave to him? That’s very platonic of him.” Natasha said before cracking a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re implying.” You played dumb.

“I’m implying that you two are dating but pretending you’re not.”

“What?” You forced a laugh. “We are not dating.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone with that. Why don’t you just call a spade a spade and make out already?”

“Because it’s not a spade. Your mom’s a spade. We’re just friends.” You insisted and felt glad your face mask was covering up your embarrassed blush.

You went back to Peter’s room with the snacks and pushed Natasha’s comments from your mind. Peter could tell that something was bothering but he didn’t push it.

You spent the next few nights at home but headed back to the tower to spend the weekend. You knew Peter would be arriving later that night so you got ready in your room while you waited. You scrolled on your phone while you did your makeup and came across an article on the body cream you’d been wearing lately. You started to read it but got distracted by the sound of people in the downstairs. You left your room and took the elevator down to see if it was Peter, but found Wanda and Natasha instead.

“Oh, hey. I was just telling Nat I got that cream you told us about. It just smelled so good on you.” Wanda told you.

“Did you? Tell me what you think of it. It works really well but I think I have to stop wearing it. I was just reading online that apparently it attracts….” You trailed off and pulled out your phone to show Wanda the article. You got distracted by a text from Peter telling you that he had arrived. You furrowed your eyebrows and stared at the text as things started to make sense in your head.

“Attracts what?” Wanda asked you. You looked up to answer her but got distracted by Peter walking in.

“Spiders.” You told her as you stared at Peter.

“Hey, Y/n.” Peter greeted with a smile. “Come with me up to the roof. I have something to show you.”

Peter took your hand and started pulling you towards the elevators. You were still lost in thought but regained composure enough to look at the girls while you were being pulled away.

When you got to the roof, the sun was just beginning to sink into the city skyline, making for a peaceful atmosphere. There were some snacks set out and a sheet you recognized from Peter’s room.

“What’s this?” You turned to him to ask. He was already staring at you and watching carefully for a reaction.

“You said you’d been so busy with homework lately that you don’t even realize when it becomes night so I thought we could take a mental break together and watch the sunset.” Peter explained with a sheepish smile. You lit up when you heard his plan and forgot all about the article.

“You planned this for me?”

“I didn’t want you to work yourself to death. You’re gonna do fine on your finals. You’re the smartest person I know. Other than, like, the two super genius’s I know. But you’re definitely up there.” He assured you. You broke into a smile and threw your arms around him to thank him. He stumbled back a little a before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you back.

“Thanks, Peter. This is really sweet.” You said and pulled away just enough to look at him. You stayed with your arms wrapped around each other as the sun began to set around you.

“You’re very welcome.” He said with a fond smile. You stared into his eyes and felt his magnetic force pulling you towards him. Peter’s eyes dropped down to your lips before a rosy blush covered his face. You couldn’t believe what was about to happen was actually happening. He started to lean in and cracked a smile just before your lips could touch.

“God, you smell amazing.” He whispered to you. You snapped out of your trance and took a step back from him.

“Oh my God.” You gasped. “I knew it.”

“Wait, what? Knew what?” Peter forced a laugh and tried not to look as disappointed as he felt that the moment had ended.

“You don’t even like me. You’re just attracted to my delicious smelling body cream!” You shouted and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Woah, what? I have been accused of so many things but that is truly a first.” Peter said and held up his hands in defense.

“I bet this whole thing was a set up just so that you could sniff me!” You gasped and pointed his picnic.

“What are you even talking about?” He matched your tone and pulled his hair in exasperation. You put your hand over your heart to catch your breath as you looked between him and his setup. Everything made sense now. Peter started talking to you the moment you opened up that jar of body cream. He only wanted to hang out with you once you started wearing it. And as you stood there on the roof with him and realized it never had anything to do with you, you felt gutted.

“I thought…I thought you liked me.” You said in a quiet voice as your face sank with disappointment. Peter turned red all the way to his ears and laughed in embarrassment.

“I do like you.” He said quietly.

“But not for me.” You shook your head. “For the way I smell.”

“What? That’s crazy?” He laughed is dismissal. You rolled up your sleeves and walked back over to him to hold your arm under his nose.

“You like this.” You told him.

“Damn, that smells good.” Peter whispered as he took in your scent.

“See? It’s my body cream. It attracts spider. Whatever is lingering in your DNA from the bite makes you attracted to this specific scent.” You grumbled as you pushed your sleeves back down.

“Huh. That explains why I got a boner in Sephora the other day.” He realized.

“Why were you in Sephora?”

“I was getting us more face masks. I even used your email so you could get the points.”

“You did?” You asked and cracked a smile. Peter looked at you sympathetically and took a step towards you.

“I had a whole night planned for us. I was gonna bring you up here to watch the sunset. And I brought snacks you like. Even disgusting Salt and Vinegar chips.”

“I love those.”

“I know you do, for some odd reason. And once the sun had set, I was gonna go downstairs with you to do the face makes. I got you a panda because you like them and mine looks like Hello Kitty, see?” Peter said and he pulled the masks out of his bag.

“Very impressive selection.”

“I know. Once we had them on, I was gonna tell you that you’re the only person I don’t feel like I need to wear a mask with. Or you’re the only person who makes me feel the way I do when I’m wearing my mask. In parenthesis, my Spiderman mask. Which implies you make me feel invincible. I don’t know. It was gonan be some mask related metaphor that I was hoping would come to me in the moment.”

“Why did you need a mask related metaphor?”

“So I could ease the tension and segway into telling you that I like you.” He admitted with a timid smile.

“You do?” You asked skeptically. Peter nodded his head and put his hands on your shoulders.

“I wouldn’t do all this for you just because I liked the way you smell. And believe me, I love the way you smell. If I could shrink you down using the Honey I Shrunk the Kids machine and shove you up my nose, I would. But I like a million other things about you too that don’t involve the olfactory bulb.”

“Then how come we only started hanging out once I started using the body cream?”

“Okay, I’ll admit, I got a whiff of the body cream and basically floating in the air down the hallway into your room like a cartoon pig being lead to a pie.” Peter prefaced. “But that was just the first time you wore it. It gave me the confidence to ask you to hang out which is something I’d been wanting to do since we met. And once we started hanging out and I learned all these new things about you, I liked you even more. Which I didn’t know was possible because I was already listening to Lana Del Ray and pretending you wrote the songs about me. When you started smelling divine, that was just the icing on an already big cake. I’m talking Cake Boss level size cake that’s mostly made of Rice Krispies and plastic tubes.”

“So now I’m divine? I thought I was ugly and not funny or charming at all.” You teased him as you stepped even closer.

“You’re right. I still find you very unattractive and don’t want to be your boyfriend and l definitely don’t want to kiss you-“

You cut him off by pulling him by the shirt into a kiss. He stopped talking immediately to kiss you back, putting his hands on your face to pull you closer.

“You smell so fucking good.” He growled and pulling you closer by the waist. You giggled against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You and Peter eventually retired to the sheet to watch the rest of the sun set. You laid on his chest and listened to his heart beating while the scent of his cologne filled your nose. You went back downstairs hand in hand once the sky was dark and passed by Wanda in the living room.

“Goodnight, Wanda.” You smiled at her as you and Peter walked by.

“Goodnight.” She replied and waved her fingers. Peter stopped suddenly in his tracks and looked at Wanda.

“Woah.” He smiled. “You smell really good, Wanda. What do you have-“

“Oh, no you don’t.” You cut him off and pulled him by the back of his shirt away from her.

“It’s the cream.” Peter said in defeat. “I’m defenseless to the cream.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

reader getting injured because she slipped in the shower, sukuna has to help her get to the hospital, where reader gets some pain meds making her kinda high. she confesses to him while being high

content: fluff, crack. reader is in the hospital and blood is named but there’s no gore. yuuji and sukuna are siblings. i love sukuna and i need him in my life so bad… someone PLS be my sukuna

“So, just to be sure: one margherita for me and one with sausage for you?” Asks you Yuuji while putting on his shoes.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the p. “Can I just have a quick shower while you’re gone?”

“Uhhh, sure, let me go ask Sukuna,” your friend tells you smiling and rushing up the stairs of his home.

You and Yuuji have been best friends since forever. You remember the first time you both cried your eyes out at the park in kindergarten because a lizard had just eaten the ladybug you had been watching for half an hour. Since that moment you’ve been attached at the hip, your homework filled afternoons in high school turning to pizza nights when both of your work schedules allowed you to now.

“Big bro said sure,” comes Yuuji’s voice from the end of the staircase.

“I did in fact not say that,” growls Sukuna from behind him. Sukuna is the same age as you and Yuuji, but he always seemed older. Sometimes wiser, but sure as hell more annoying than his brother. Hotter, too, but that’s a topic for another time.

“I didn’t ask you to join me, big boy,” you say sarcastically, fake smiling. He crosses his arms, leveling you with a bored look.

“Yuu, if you aren’t fast enough you’re not going to find her corpse when you get back,” he tells his brother, still staring you up and down. Yuuji sighs, tired, then opens the front door.

“Make sure to not kill each other. I have a shift after this, stop bickering. You two act like siblings more than I do with you, Sukuna,” he reprimands you both. You and his brother roll your eyes at the same time, then you push him out, closing the door in his face. You turn around and find yourself face to face with Sukuna's menacing grin.

“You have 5 minutes before I come knock at the bathroom door with a kitchen knife, doll.”

You’re scrubbing yourself clean with a random pine body wash you found in the shower when the playlist you put before entering the stall stops. You’re annoyed, because now you’re forced to listen to Sukuna’s ugly songs from the bathroom wall (that he’s blasting just to annoy you), so you try to reach your phone. You’re on your tippy toes, not wanting to get out completely, when you trip and fall since you didn’t wash the soap away from your body. You bump your head on the sink in front of the shower, hard, and you muffle a whine. You close your eyes as hard as you can and open the shower head with the room spinning inside your skull.

“Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes or you’ll fall… fuck, it hurts so bad,” you tell yourself while you speed run the end of the shower and blindly put your shirt over your head. It’s not the first time you've bumped your head on something, you were a crazy kid, so you’ve learned to open your eyes only when you physically can’t function anymore or you'll start seeing stars immediately. You barely get to put your pants on when you notice your forehead feels wet, and you didn't even wash your hair. As you get out of the bathroom wobbling you touch your head. When you open your eyes, you see blood on your hand. The room spins. You barely have time to look up and watch Sukuna coming out of his bedroom frowning before seeing black dots in your vision.

You try opening your eyes, but they feel so heavy. Your body feels rather stiff. What's this smell?

"Oh, she's waking up," a female voice softly says from somewhere next to your right.

"Thank you, miss, I got it from here," a rough voice responds.

"Make sure she drinks a lot, and keep a couple of painkillers near you. The scans show she doesn't have any internal damage, but she hit her head pretty hard. She's going to have a big bruise for a couple of days," the female voice continues. You hear the man making a sound of affirmation.

There’s a brief pause. "Your wife is very lucky. It's not every day that a man takes a woman up four flights of stairs by simple arm strength," the woman concludes sweetly, getting out of the room after he responds with a grunt and closing the door behind her.

"Your ass is lucky I lied or they wouldn’t have let me in, dumbass. Open your eyes, I know you're awake," the voice you now recognise as Sukuna says, getting closer. You try opening your eyes, managing to focus your gaze on him. Everything feels so fluffy, apart from your throat. You cough, and you think you see him rolling his eyes before getting you a glass of water and sitting beside you on a chair. You gulp it down, still feeling fuzzy, then you blink a couple of times.

You gape at him. He's cute. “You look funny,” you say, poking his cheek. He’s so squishy. Like a little mochi. A little mochi filled with strawberries. Strawberries and cream. He slaps your finger away, and you put on a hurt expression. He huffs.

“Why am I here?” You ask. The more you look at him, the more heads he seems to have.

“You fell in the bathroom,” he says, straightening up from the chair and covering your right leg with the duvet the hospital gave you. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture, and he just rolls his eyes again. “Don’t want you to also catch a cold. Yuuji would kill my ass.” You just hum.

“I caught ya when you already fainted. Yuuji came back home and panicked, but he couldn’t back out from work, so I was stuck with your ass. Took ya here but the elevator broke down. And I ate your pizza, by the way. All this is gonna cost ya 200 dollars, cash,” he lists, sprawling back onto his chair, deadpan.

Silence engulfs the both of you, and you don’t know what to say. You heard what the nurse said and you are searching for a way to bring it up, but the words in your mind are all scrambled. It’s probably the morphine that you realise they gave you, IV still attached to your left arm. You open your mouth to say something along the lines of “I’d like to thank your gym membership for this,” but instead the words that leave your mouth are-

“I’d like you to be my husband.”

His eyes snap to your widening ones. “Wait that wasn’t what-“

“Huh?” He just replies, dumbfounded. You panic, waving your hands in the air between you two.

“No, what I meant was- like- thank you for getting me up here- can you stop looking at me with your weird 16 eyes?- not that you aren’t attractive! You’re super hot! But that’s not- oh god,” you whimper, rubbing your face, noticing how you’re just making the situation worse. You prepare yourself for his snarky comeback, closing your eyes, but everything is silent.

Suddenly, you hear him snort. You crack your eyes open, touching the big cotton gauze they put on your forehead. You must be hearing things. It’s definitely the morphine, there’s no way Sukuna is actually laughing.

“Yes, I’m laughing, doll,” he says, chuckling. You widen your eyes.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You cringe.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” he responds, smirking. You groan.

“Take me out to dinner first, damn,” he yawns. You jut your bottom lip out, frowning and giving him your middle finger. Then you register his words.

“You’d come? I mean, if I asked you out.”

“Well, if you’re paying,” he responds, shrugging. That’s still a yes, isn’t it?

He ruffles up his pink hair, black t-shirt straining across his bicep. You can’t contain the urge to poke the muscle.

“Stop touching me like I’m made of play dough, doll,” he sighs, slightly less annoyed than 5 minutes ago.

“Would you let me play with you if you were made of play dough?” you ask, words a little slurred, still poking his arm, and he flexes it. “Don’t show off,” you mumble.

“You’re even weirder when you’re drugged,” he grins. He kinda looks scary, though. If you didn’t know him, you’d piss yourself by looking at his sharp teeth.

“But would you or would you not?” You whine, dragging out the last word, letting your hand fall next to you. He misses the warmth of your hand, so instead, he just puts his on your thigh. To be warm, of course. The room is so cold. Yeah. Definitely because of the missing heat.

“Yeah doll, I would.”

[celeryb1tch]

innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”

[cherry-leclerc]

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: angst, yearning, humor, fluff, journalist!reader, established relationship

word count: 13.2k

There’s a lot of things you’d like to do differently in life. And the weeks leading up to that night is one of them.

inspired by this, this, and this !

cherry here!… hello there. sooo this was supposed to go up a few days ago, but silly me scheduled the wrong date, haha, so this is me formally apologizing for that. on a more lighter note: i’m so excited for you guys to read this one considering this is the re-written version of ‘method acting’ if you guys even remember the original version. love u all very much, and enjoyyy :)

From his boyish smile, to his dominant smirk—you knew it all. 

The way it would slowly start to spread, but always ended with a dimple. You loved many things in life—many, many things—but nothing comes close to him. From the very start, he’s been gentle. A gentle giant, you’d sometimes joke with a teasing voice, to which he’d roll his eyes yet never deny. 

The way he’d start every sentence with—honey—and end with—I love you. The way he’d cradle your face between his hands, kissing the corner of your mouth first before pressing down completely. The way he’d translate for you with all the patience in the world. Everything about him had been so easy to learn, so easy to love.

But here, in a room, staring at each other, you begin to wonder if you ever knew him at all. Because suddenly you don’t know what the frown on his face means. What the furrowed brows with the pinched expression interpret to. You don’t know any of it. 

Why are you so surprised, though?

You caused this, anyways.

-

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you don’t know how to use a USB, Lis. Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know—tech savvy?” 

Lissie aims a harsh glare before tapping her nail against the computer screen as if that might make the process a whole lot quicker. “So what? I lied on my resume. Everybody does it.”

You chuckle. “Who even uses USB’s nowadays?”

“Apparently Grandpa Will. Oh, yay, it's done!” She shimmies. “I’ll see you later, m’kay?” With that, she zips down the paddock without a second glance. You sigh, gathering your stuff and making your way down the busy crowd, heading straight towards Ferrari Hospitality. 

He’s on his computer when you first walk in, keys clicking. He nibbles on his bottom lip, knits his dark brows like he’s in pain. As soon as you tap your finger against the wall, he perks up, all his interest suddenly gone. He grins. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Lis,” you respond, claiming a seat next to him. 

The Monegasque hums, leaning in to kiss your lips swiftly. “Thank you, Elisabella.” You giggle, sneaking a quick peek at his open screen. “Whatcha’ workin’ on? Wait—let me guess. You’re getting your marriage license annulled?”

“To be with you, yes,” he agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “How do you think Joris is going to take it?”

A playful shrug. “He’s just going to have to accept it, no?”

“I suppose.” Snapping the computer shut, he fixes himself, head pressed softly against your lap, closing his eyes. The sight of his even breaths and curved nose makes you smile as you start threading your fingers through his hair. He sighs, tense shoulders instantly rolling back. “Journling, and whatnot. It’s a habit that has a near expiration date, for sure, but is quite nice as of now.”

And though he can’t see you, your neat brows raise up in surprise. “Journaling on an electronic device? Why not an actual journal? You know—something authentic. I actually know of a place back in Portland where they sell some cute ones, ver—”

“I’m not looking for cute. I’m looking for security.” A beat. “I’d lose it in a week, and we don’t want that happening, now do we? My laptop works just fine. Plus, I feel more at peace knowing it’s not something I will just leave behind.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” you declare, enjoying the way his lips twist with a childlike snarl. “Anyways, I’m glad you’ve picked up on a new hobby. It’s good for you, Charlie.”

“Learned from the best.” You blush. “By the way, media shouldn’t last longer than an hour? Wanna go out?”

“Aren’t you tired?” you question, forcing his eyelids open as he squirms, pushing your hand away.

“A little. But I still want to do something with you.”

A tired sigh. “Cute, but I can’t. Lissie and William are out for today, so it’s just me, which means I have to conduct all the interviews by myself.”

The brunette bats an eye. “Why?”

“She forgot she had a deadline—hence why I was busy helping her—and Will still has to look it over. They have to send it in by midnight and it’s—it’s a lot.”

“Why couldn’t she just email it?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you screech, causing him to flinch and squeeze his eyes. Sheepishly, you pat his head. “He insisted on a USB. Says he wants all work done like the olden days.”

“That sucks,” he mumbles. “And who even uses USB’s nowadays? They’re so outdated.”

“That’s what I’m—” You stop, mid-sentence, lowering your voice when he sits up and scoots away. “Saying,” you finish, whispering. You purse your lips, sending a slight grimace. “You get it.”

Charles nods, standing up and placing his laptop into his duffel bag. “I’ll come back and pick you up, yeah? Meanwhile, I can maybe cook something for us.”

“Honey,” you coo. “I love you, but please don’t.” His face drops. What the fuck? You giggle. “How about take-out?”

“How about,” he mutters, stiff as a statue when you press your lips down onto his jaw, but quickly melts. “Chinese?”

“Sounds good.” Another peck. “I’ll call you!”

-

If you remember—and you do remember—you fell in love with writing ever since you watched The Devil Wears Prada. It was a reset for you because before that you had seriously considered going to law. At first, you started with column writing in your school's newspaper. No one ever read it, you’d always find it on the floor after being trampled on, but you never cared. 

Soon after, you started publishing smaller pieces here and there on your fashion blog that has since been taken down, but that was the moment you knew. Thing was, you wanted to nurture this into a career, you really did, but nothing to do with fashion, rather sports. 

Maybe it had to do with the fact that every Sunday your Grandpa would beg for you to come over to his house and watch the races with him. They were extremely boring at first. Who willingly drives for roughly two hours in loops? Then, it clicked. Everything changed and you were enthralled. 

After that, all you knew was that you wanted it bad. It was hard, studying over time in order to get done quickly and just start working, but it was well worth it. You met Lis the same year she started working with Formula One, so you both figured a lot of things out together, and for two years, it was just you and her, interviewing and writing about the drivers on the grid.

But he noticed you both years ago.

He first noticed the burn on the back of your left leg. He initially thought it was a band-aid by the way it healed, but later found out you had burned yourself with a curling iron back in highschool when you were rushing to get your senior pictures taken. Then he noticed your eyes and the way they always had a glimmer to them, even if something wasn't going your way. He respected the hell out of you after that.

 How do you do that? 

You freeze. Do what?

Stay so…so—optimistic. Happy, I suppose.

You laughed then, and he saw the way your hair fell over your shoulder like a silk curtain. He would have smiled if he wasn’t so stuck up on that. It’s all a facade. They way you see me—it’s not real.

Believe me, I don’t think you’re real.

You blush, looking back down at your journal where you’ve been too busy scribbling prior to his question. You just have to ignore them sometimes, you know? Remind yourself that they don’t know you and you don’t know them. Trust me, it helps.

And after that, you two never stopped talking. 

Whether it was about work, or perhaps even the weather, you two always had something going on. Something everyone noticed, but never brought up. And at one point, you confessed your next dream.

Journalist of the Year, he repeated, a goofy smile slowly itching his skin. Yeah, I can see that.

It’s not that easy, though, you retort, exhaling heavily. I mean, I’ve been doing this for quite a while now and I haven’t even been considered once, which is fine, maybe I’m not good enough, but maybe it’s also time to…I don’t know—give up?

He kept quiet, kept his eyes focused on you, and frowned. If it’s something you want, then it’s most likely something you can have. 

Pft, you scoff. Nah. Not this. It’s nearly unattainable for someone like me. Even Lissie has won, and we’ve been here for the same amount of years. Now I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it, but that just comes to show that there’s always someone better. And I’m just here. You look up. It’s okay, you can laugh.

A beat. I could be a hypocrite to tell you that it’s not good to measure how talented you are or how talented you can be based on some award, but Jesus Chrsit, I do the same thing. I understand. And it’s because I understand that I’m telling you to keep working hard and prove yourself to them. You have it in you—I’ve known ever since we met. You smile. Your time will come, yeah?

And for the first time: you believed it. 

A nod. Thanks, Charles. Yours will too.

About a month later, you two started officially dating. It almost seemed too good to be true at times, but wherever he looked for you in the crowd, you knew it just had to be. 

But the start of your relationship was also the end of something else.

Interviews and articles? 

He nods. Right. None of that.

You follow his actions, nodding numbly as you blink. So, no more working together? Because you want me to have a fair shot?

Yes, he confirmed. I just don’t want you to be nominated—because it’s only a matter of time, I have a feeling—and feel as if they picked you simply because of your dating status. 

Who’s going to do all of that, then? 

There’s plenty of other reporters. Lissie? Will? Maybe even Natalie. He took a step closer, grabbing your hands gently. What I’m trying to say is that I want you to feel accomplished. That what you did was simply because of your work, and not having to do with your connections because trust me, that doesn’t feel good.

But I love working with you. You give his hand a squeeze, tilting your head and smiling sadly. You’re my favorite person to write about and talk to…

And he genuinely seemed to be pained by your words, wincing.

But you suck it up because you know he’s right. I’ll always be your favorite?

Only the best.

A hum. Alright then. You take a step back, extending your hand for a professional handshake. He smiles, taking it and giving it a good tug.

 It was nice working with you, Mr. Leclerc.

-

“I’ll never understand,” Lissie starts, pressing the elevator button for the twenty-fifth floor and chewing on a licorice. “Why you two ever create such a stupid rule like that?” A hard chew. “All I’m saying is that it could have definitely helped you out a whole lot. You probably would have won by now.”

You roll your eyes, but not without thinking how she might be right. You’ve definitely wondered about a world in which you two hadn’t taken this approach, and while it would have been nice, you also know that it would have felt a little less special knowing that being a nepo to Charles had something to do with it. Which is most likely what would have happened, let’s be completely honest here. 

“You came to this arrangement, what? Twenty years ago, maybe fourty? And it’s not to be rude, but you haven't been nominated, so was this really worth it if it hasn’t made much of a difference?”

“Okay,” you grunt, ripping the red candy away from her and throwing it into the nearby trash as soon as you step out of the elevator. She pouts, following along. “I think we get it, I fucked up, very funny.”

“No,” she hums. “I never said you did, I was simply thinking, that's all.” You scoff. “But whatever. I have a feeling this is it. You definitely have it in the bag. They’d be crazy not to add you for a fourth time!”

Spinning, you smile bitterly at the Brit girl. She gulps. “Thank you, Lis, your mild support is very much appreciated.”

You turn back around, walking faster.

“Sheesh, sorry,” she hisses, entering the familiar office with a lost expression.

Carly, your manager runs over, practically jumping onto you and hugging you tight. “Lis, close the door!” You groan at the loud sound against your ear, but she's none the wiser, already embracing you harder. “You did it!”

“I told you!” Lissie shoots smugly.

You freeze, heart racing. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying—”

“Why would she be lying?”

Letting go, Carly lets out a delirious laugh. “Everything—all of it—has finally paid off. You did it, you’re on the list!”

“Holy shit,” you whisper in disbelief, playing with your necklace as you pace the spacious office. Lissie and Carly both grin at each other from ear to ear, nodding enthusiastically. You come to a halt. “Are you making this up because I said I would kill myself if I didn’t make it this year because, for your information, I was totally kidding!”

“It’s not a joke,” the redhead squeals, jumping again. “I’m so proud of you!”

“I am too!” Lissie shrieks, running and kissing you face as you try your best to swat her away even though you’re laughing. “Even after what I said in the elevator, I knew this shit was the real deal this time! Didn’t I tell you? Carly, I told her.” She twirls you, making you grin harder.  “You won!”

“Okay, let's touch some grass, ladies,” Carly cuts in. “We can’t forget that this is just a nomination and that there’s still work that needs to be done in order to secure our best chances.”

“Right,” you respond, elegantly fixing yourself and nodding up and down. You freeze. “Wait, what work? I thought this was it?”

Carly shakes her head. “Oh honey, we’re just getting started.” A pause. “You have to write an article.”

“I am—confused. What do you mean by article?”

The Brit takes a seat in a nearby chair, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s their one and only requirement. Show them why they should pick you.”

Carly nods, red hair bouncing. “Shouldn’t be too hard. You’re as talented as they come. Just do what you do, but…better!”

Color drains your face as you go back to pacing. “What do you mean better? This is all I got! There’s nothing left to show, oh God—”

“What are you talking about?” your manager yelps. “There’s always more!”

“Exactly,” Lissie hums, somehow munching on another piece of candy. “There’s always—that, yeah. More.”

Your eye twitches. “Okay, you already went through this and won. How did you do it?”

She pouts, tapping the licorice against her lips before clicking her fingers. “I wrote my piece on fashion and how it’s made its way into Formula One. Wasn’t even that hard. Well. Shouldn't be. Write what you know and it’ll come to ya, they say. Or maybe they don’t, but definitely still do that.”

Your shoulders drop, plopping down next to her and placing a pillow over your face. “Fuck. That’s genius.” It is, isn’t it? she mumbles, slowly chewing in deep thought. Screaming into the pillow, you feel the frustration you didn’t have a second ago finally erupt. “What am I going to do?”

“Sweetheart,” Carly starts, forearms pressed against her glass desk, and stern eyes trained onto you. “You have got to be one of the most raw writers I have ever worked with.” A beat. “Sorry, Lis.” 

“Screw you,” she snarls, focusing on her phone now. 

Your manager sighs, rubbing her temples. “And please take that as a compliment because it is. You don’t hold back, and you tell it how it is. That’s what makes you one of the best! And if it weren’t for you wanting this, I would have definitely sent an angry email on your behalf because you deserve this more than anyone.”

“Wow,” the Brit muttered, raising her dark brows. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, cringing. “But you’ve won already, Lis, and we supported you, and now…” She faces you again with soft eyes. “We’re doing this for you. You got it, m’kay?”

“But—” your voice cuts off as you blink rapidly, losing focus with the thought of failing, imprinting itself into the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know what to write about, which is weird because I always have an idea, at least. That’s simply a bad sign, that much I know.”

“It’s only bad if you think it is,” Lissie says, clicking her phone off and smiling gently. “But in all honesty, I think it’s actually quite good. That means you know what's at stake, and you know you have to make this the best goddamn article in your entire life.” A beat. “Write what you know, I’m telling you.”

“What she said,” Carly squeaks cheerfully, eyes crinkling as she starts pouring champagne and handing them one by one. “But just so you know, we have to get this in by October thirteenth because they make their decision by the sixteenth.”

“But that’s Charles’ birthday week,” you wail, rubbing your eyes harshly. “Fucking hell—”

“He’ll understand,” Lissie cuts you off, clicking her glass against Carly’s who shrugs, sipping neatly. “All of us know he will.”

“Okay then,” you whisper slowly. You curl your hand tighter against the glass. “Cheers?”

“Cheers, mate!”

-

Entering his Monaco flat, Charles lets out a tired sigh, taking his shoes off and flinging his keys to the nearby coffee table. The loud thud makes him flinch before running over hurriedly. A large scratch lays across the rich wood as he panics, kneeling down to inspect it carefully.

“Are you serious, Charlie?” he hears over his shoulder, jumping to find you with a frown on your lips and hands on your hips. “That was a gift!”

“I’m sorry!” he squeaks. “From your Grandpa, I know, I’m sorry!”

You let out a breath, shrugging. “It’s fine. How was your day?”

He eyes you suspiciously once before getting closer to you and kissing you hello. “Eh. Decent. Yours?”

Plump lips twist before flattening back out. “Decent.”

He squints, noticing the way you play with your necklace. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you answer quickly. Defensively.

His brows furrow deeper. “Blow me.”

“Blow you?”

“Yes. Right here, right now—blow me.” He demonstrates, letting out a breath as if taking a breathalyzer test. 

You let out a sore laugh, rolling your heels as you stumble back. What? Your laughing stops, though tears run down your face as you try to get your words out. “You mean breathe out, not blow you.” Your giggles pick up once again, making him blush deep red. “God, you need to learn a bit more proper english.”

He looks away, cringing at the sound of his voice replaying, and then turning with a stoic face. “Don’t change the subject.” A pause. “Breathe out.”

You freeze. “Why?”

“Don’t ask questions, just do it.” “I’m not going to do it.”

“Just do it,” he presses harder.

You glare. “No. I’m not.”

Taking one last glance, he leaps forward with zero warning and starts tickling you, making your squeal. Stop! “Breathe!” I am breathing, you twat! “Blow me—God damn it! Whatever! Blow! Breathe! Blow!” 

“Fine, fine, just stop!” you screech, giggles coming to an end as he nods and stares down at you, which by now, you’re laid down on the couch with him towering over. You blush, breathing out lightly, nearly nothing. He rolls his eyes. Blow me harder. “Blow me harder,” you mimic, copying his accent. 

He groans. “You get what I’m saying—”

“I don’t, though,” you joke, laughing harder. As soon as your eyes shut, he smiles down at you affectionately, but when they open again, he reverts his lips back into a straight line. Your lips wobble playfully. Letting out a big breath, he whiffs strongly. “Gross, Cha!”

“You smell like strawberry sorbet, relax.” A beat. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out for me.”

“Okay, this is getting really kinky.”

He aims for a deadpan expression. 

Rolling your eyes, you do as you're told and he lets out a scream. “What the fuck!”

“It’s red!”

“No duh, Charles!”

“Strawberry sorbet. The last pint. You ate it all, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So that's a yes.”

You frown.

“And we always share, but when we don’t it’s because you’re going through something and you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Okay, Sherlock Holmes, we get it,” you grunt, pushing him off as you sit up. He does the same, staring at you, concerned. “By the way, does that upset you?”

“The ice cream? Nah.”

You nod, then yawn. “Why do you have to be so attentive?”

“Because I love you.”

You smile. “I made it onto the list.”

“The list?”

“The list.”

A wide grin dances across his pink lips as he jumps onto the coach, up and down, making you bounce and stare up with a soft look. “The list! Thee list. Holy crap, congratulations, honey!” Landing on the ground, he hugs you, digging his face into the crook of your neck and kissing it over and over. “You smell nice—congrats—is that citrus—wait, this smells really nice—”

“It is citrus,” you giggle as he separates from you. “And thanks. It means the most coming from you.”

Silence takes over for a second or two before his brows knit neatly. “What’s wrong?”

“No. Nothing.” They raise up higher. “I’m not gonna lie—I’m scared.”

Tugging you closer to his chest, he drags so you two are laying back down. You close your eyes at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you like some blanket. “About what? You totally got this.”

“Hmph. It’s just that, I, uh. I have to write an article on a topic of my choice, and—I. Don’t know? I have no clue what to write about.”

Listening attentively, he doesn’t interrupt as your words begin to pour out like a prayer. He doesn’t even interrupt when you say something along the lines of being “at best—mediocre”, even though he really wanted to. You scoff. “It’s a silly problem to have, I’m well aware, but…it’s the truth.”

The Monegasque picks your breathing patterns, mindlessly copying as you cuddle him. “You’ll figure it out.”

You swiftly look up, cheek pressed against his heart beat. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

What do you want him to say? Your lips open aimlessly, then close forcefully. 

He grabs a nearby blacket, covering you both and hugging you the same he’s seen you hug your teddy bear. “I think you need to have a little bit more faith. In yourself, that is. Because your mind…” Green eyes connect with yours as your breath comes to a strong halt. He tends to make your body react that way, quite often. He sends a simple grin. Dimples and all.

“It's the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

-

Abu Dhabi 2021.

It’s been talked about too much already.

Spain 2016.

You’re kidding, right?

Fine. Azerbaijan 2018—

You let out a muffled scream. “Pierre, no! I need something better.”

“Better than all that drama?” he dead pans, genuinely confused as to why his ideas are being shut down.

You exhale, hair flying outward. “I love it too, but I need something new. Unheard of.”

The Frenchman pauses, curling a brow. “I’ve gone blank.”

You bite down on your tongue, shrugging it off. “It’s okay. I should probably come up with my own topic, anyways.”

Getting up, you wave goodbye and make your way to the ice cream truck that’s been rented out for the weekend. Smartest investment, you think to yourself as you twirl your tongue around the lavender spoon. 

“This time I really do mean it—blow me.”

Squinting up at the sun—which so happens to be behind Charles like a halo—you chuckle, feeding him a spoonful. “Good, no?”

“Delicious,” he hums, going in for another. “Have you tried the funnel cakes?” They have funnel cakes? you squeal, eyes shining. He nods. “Want one?”

You deflate. “Later.”

Watching the crowd walk by, you two sit there, switching turns and enjoying each other's company. It’s amazing how no one comes up to Charles, either. Not that he would mind, but it’s definitely a nice surprise. Glancing over, he hands the spoon back to you. “Come up with something?”

“I have a few ideas, but nothing solid yet.”

Pistachio ice cream melts away faster. “I told Pierre to leave you alone, I hope he didn’t bother you too much.”

“He’s actually the reason why I have these ideas. Don’t let him know, though, I would never live it down.”

Watercolor eyes go wide. “Really? Pierre actually helped?”

“Weird, huh?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Don’t stress out too much, honey. You still have time.”

You purse your lips. “But the sooner I figure it, the sooner I can start and just focus, and do the proper research and try and—”

“You have time,” he reaffirms with a knowing look. You cock your head and he sends a sly grin. “Plenty.”

“Plenty,” you copy as he nods along. Extending his arm, he signals to the spoon. You shake your head. “You can have the rest.”

“You’re the gift that keeps on giving.”

-

Write what you know. Write. What. You. Know.

What the fuck does that even mean?

Biting down on your pen, you’re spaced out, staring at the picture frame. In it, Charles and Carlos smile, you can tell, behind their helmets. While the Monegasque’s eyes crinkle sweetly, the Spaniards are dilated and wide. Both nice, but nothing beats those green eyes. 

You can slowly feel your sanity slipping away, day by day. There’d be times where you thought you had it figured out, but then you’d bring it up and Lissie would smile and say—

“Yes! Stick to that one! Start it. Right now.”

It wouldn’t seem genuine because you know she just wanted you to get it done given it’s due in less than two weeks. And even though it was good, it wasn’t good enough. 

“I’m just going to brainstorm a few more ideas.”

She’d given up, mumbling beneath her breath and grabbing her keynotes and headed to her meeting. Well, technically it was your meeting too, but again. Time crunch.

Hence, why you’re admiring the picture and thinking harder than you were a minute ago. The door slides open then, the two Ferrari drivers back from their media duties. You rip your gaze away as soon as they make their way closer. “How does one fake their own disappearance?”

“Oi,” the brown eyed boy warns, toothy grin expanding. “Good question, though.”

“Oi, you,” your boyfriend warns back, glaring at his teammate. “At this point, I’m sure she’d go through with it.” He turns to you. “Honey, you’ve got to decide already, it can’t be that hard.”

“I know that!” you burst out, ears burning as you avoid their eyes. “But there’s just so much! I don’t want to jump the gun and make a mistake, is all.”

Carlos juts his lip, then rolls his jaw. “If only you took someone’s very good proposition.”

A scoff. “I wasn’t going to write about Papaya Rules, Chili.”

“It would’ve been so good, though!” A beat. “What about—”

“Nor multi-21.”

His expression drops, along with his shoulders, and strolls away, flipping you off. I hope you figure it out, then! A low chuckle makes its way as you exhale loudly. “C’mon, what’s the problem this time?”

You bite your lip, brows drawn in together as you gaze back at Charles. “I’m not entirely convinced.”

“Honey…”

“A-and I know I’m running out of time, but I just want it to be perfect!”

He smiles, throwing his arm on your shoulder. “And it will be, but you need a topic.”

“Yeah…” You raise a brow.  “What happened to having ‘plenty’ of time?”

The Monegasque wiggles his brows. “You can’t take up too much advantage.”

-

I’ve decided. 

That’s the lie you settle with because quite frankly, you’re done with the constant questions. If you were going to come up with the best matter to write about, then you need to have a clear head. Carly is over the moon, Lissie is ecstatic, and Charles is proud. 

Great! What’s it going to be about?

It’s a surprise. 

At first, they were all as curious as can be, but later when you insisted that it’d be better that way, they nodded, though the interest was still there. 

Now—with only a week and a half before your due date—you lay, plopped on your stomach, fingers teasing the keyboard as you watch Charles jump into his race suit. You sigh, sitting up. “I think I’m going to stay in here today.”

He fixes the zipper. “Yeah?”

You nod. “That way I can work and watch you.” You point to the T.V. hung up on his room wall. “Is that okay with you?”

“Whatever you need to do in order to focus, baby.” A wink. “It’s fine by me.”

They’re in lap sixty out of seventy-five, the last time you check, and your page remains as white as a ghost and as bare as a newborn baby. It’s both amusing and mind-boggling. Groaning, you hit your head with the back of your hand before running it down your face. Then, to make matters worse, your laptop dies.

Shit, you grit as you look around and spot Charles’ placed neatly on top of a nearby chair. Strolling over, you grab and open it, typing in his passcode and signing into your account. A few seconds later, the blank page resurfaces. Blinking slowly, you spot it. 

Notes. 

You take a look around, but really don’t know why since you’re the only one in his motorhome, and then click onto the App, furrowing your brows with concentration. 

Turns out, you really like to read because one after another, you skim through his journal entries without a second thought. Eagerly, might you add. Some things you know, others you don’t, but nevertheless, you’re caught off guard. How sensitive he is and how it portrays in every word. Not only are you amazed, but you’re completely engrossed. 

And it sparks something in you.

With a large grin, the brunette makes his way back to his room, trophy in hand and handshakes and pats on the back all around. Grazie mille, he beams as he makes his way closer, sending a final wave before opening his door. Finding you with his spare helmet over your head, he laughs. You giggle, opening the visor. “That’s one good looking winner!”

He laughs, placing the gold trophy down and enjoying you the way you struggle to take it off. You let out a loud gasp as soon as he assists you, tugging it off. “Shit.” Another gasp. “How do you wear that thing for two hours?” Fixing your hair, you pat it down as you send him a sheepish smile. “Give me a kiss!”

“No thanks. Too sweaty.”

Pouting, you pinch his ear tenderly before he gives in, pressing his lips against yours. “You were amazing out there, Charlie. You really were, I want you to know.”

Green eyes soften as he tries his best to savor this moment. “Only cause you say so.” You giggle, hugging his waist and he drapes his hands over your shoulders and rests his chin on top of your head. “How far along were you able to get?”

A hum. “Quite far, actually.”

He lets out a whistle, making your cheeks glow. “Looks like we’re both having a good day.”

“Looks like,” you swoon. “Looks like.”

Tilting your head back, you match with his eyes as he sends a dimpled smile. 

Write what you know, you think to yourself as he leans back down to kiss you. His lips greedily crash against your own as you let out a soft moan, playing with his hair, large hands making their way down to your ass. And you, my dear Charlie…

He groans, shuddering as soon as you grind back against his thigh. You smile, admiring his open mouth.

I know you very well.

-

You feel guilty when you start on your first page, but by the time you make it to your third, you’ve talked yourself out of it. You would explain. As soon as you’re done, before you turn it in, you would explain it all to him. Tell him that this is simply because you love him. How he’s your biggest inspiration, and how this wasn’t you using him, but rather you showing others how amazing he truly is.

He notices it right away—the determination. And he admires you for it because he hasn’t seen you like that ever since your writer’s block. So, he tries not to intrude in moments where you’re on a roll, and instead makes sure to have a bath ready for you. He joins you sometimes, too.

Cracking your fingers, you yawn, exhausted, and stretch like a cat. He chuckles, closing his book like a light thud. “Update?”

“Six pages.”

“Wow. You really got it going on.” You blush. “You deserve something sweet. What do you want?”

“But it’s so late, and you have to be up early tomorrow…”

He rolls his eyes, already grabbing your trench coat. “It’s a bit cold out right now.”

You smile.

It’s not that far of a walk, three miles. After buying you a hot chocolate—with extra whip—he takes your mitten covered hand and leads you out the small coffee shop. By now, not many people are out, so it makes for a calm stroll.

“Shhh—ah,” you hiss, tongue sticking out as your face twists with subtle pain. He laughs, eyes crinkling. Drink slowly, he says, voice laced with humor. “The cool air helps,” you murmur, blowing on the hot drink. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

He shakes his head. “I just wanted you to unwind.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” you coo, enjoying the way his ears turn pink. You giggle. “Why do I feel like you’re thinking about something, though?”

“I am. You.” A gust of wind dances. “Always.”

You purse your lips, taking a slow sip, lipstick painting the white lid. “I’m serious, Cha. You’ve been quiet ever since you got off that phone call two hours ago.” Neat brows knit together with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he answers, but it’s too quick for it to be the truth.

Giving his large hand a squeeze, you send a knowing look. His breath hitches. “You can talk to me—”

“Are you almost done with your article?” he asks, obviously changing the topic as he stares up ahead, and if not, down at his shoes. Pink nose twitches. “I miss you, and call me greedy, but I was hoping you’d be done before my birthday, at least, that way we could…I don’t know—” He shrugs. “You’ve just been really busy—which I get why, and I understand—but I miss y-you.”

Wincing, you chew your bottom lip a couple times before letting go. “Almost, but.” His shoulders drop, making your stomach twist. You panic. “I feel like I’m missing something. Like the final bang in order for it to be…” A beat. “I’ll be done before your birthday, you can count on that.”

Round eyes finally flicker up as he nods, a more relaxed look evident. “This makes me sound so needy,” he says. “Which I guess I am, bu—”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off with a reassuring smile. “But please, tell me what’s going on…”

The Monegasque stiffens. Despite walking, you can tell. You can feel it. Also, it doesn’t take a genius to notice. “They’re not renewing Carlos’ contract for next year.”

You stop walking, making him stop too. He’s still holding onto you, rubbing small circles against cashmere. “W-why?”

“Guess.”

Your mind races. The rumors have definitely been swirling—everyone’s heard—but really? “They’re actually doing it?”

He nods.

“Lewis,” you whisper like it the first time you pronounce his name. “This is, uh…wow. I mean, wow.” 

“Yup,” he says, popping the p. “Wow, for sure.” Letting go, he takes a small step back, but still faces you with an uneasy look. “They brought it up as a possibility, but I don’t know why I never thought they’d be capable of…” He grimaces. “I can’t even begin to imagine how Carlos must be feeling.”

“Weren’t they just praising him last time during your guys’ team meeting?” You curl the cup towards your chest. “That’s fucked up.” Charles sighs, pinching the tip of his nose swiftly. Your eyes fill up with concern. “What about you?”

“I got an extension.”

You let out a breath of relief, nodding. “O-okay, okay. That’s good, Charlie, that’s really good.” When he keeps quiet, you pause all movement and blink feverishly. “Why are you upset, then?”

“I’m not,” he answers. “Only worried.” Listening closely, you silently wait for him to continue. He sighs, rubbing his eyes, suddenly tired. “It’s just that…he. He’s Lewis,” he finishes like that’s enough explanation.

You curl a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A weak chuckle. “It means he’s better, and the team is going to favor him over me.” A timid shrug. “I get it, though. If anyone can bring a Championship home for the team, it’s going to be him.”

“It’s going to be you.”

“No.” The light in his eyes gave out, slowly and painfully so. “It’s not.”

Berry lips open, then close lamely, analyzing him like the world's biggest mystery. Sternly, you narrow your eyes down like knives. “World Champion?”

He flinches.

You click your tongue. “Do you realize how crazy you sound?”

“What?” he says, puzzled.

You nod. “Why are you giving up so easily, huh?”

Sharp jaw clenches. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because he’s a former World Champion, and I’m not.” He chuckles sourly. “It’s really not that difficult to figure out. I mean, I’ve been working for it for so long now, and look at me! I’m nowhere close to being there!”

Silence. Chest heaves. You never let go of your gaze, and he has no other choice than to do the same. He’s not mad at you—not mad at anyone, really—but he’s frustrated. And yeah. Maybe he is giving up the fight, but anyone else who was in his position would too. No one wants to be the laughing stock, no one wants to be compared. 

“Listen to me Charles Leclerc, and listen to me closely because I’m only going to say this once.”

He waits.

“If it’s something you want, then it’s most likely something you can have.”

Pink lips turn upward as he tilts his head in the slightest of tilts.

Holding his face between your delicate hands, you raise your brows, shivering at the icy air. He can feel your hand vibrate against his skin as he grabs them, brings them up to his mouth, and blows hot air onto them. “I believe in you. Everybody does. Do you believe in that?”

And it takes a moment for him to answer. It takes a moment for it to register. He nods. Sure of himself.

“Only because you do.”

-

“A USB?” He frowns. “I thought you hated those?”

“I do,” you say, combing through your hair, staring at him through the reflection of the mirror. “But I feel like this makes it real. Physically turning it in, I mean. It’s dumb, but…” You check the time, shrieking and grabbing your things. “Carly is going to kill me! Okay, I’ll be back in an hour, and then we can go with your family for dinner, or I’ll meet you there, yeah?” You huff. “Red or white wine?”

“Sparkling water,” he ponders. “Maman is trying to get to ‘quit.’ Which is probably not the right way to put it because it’s not like Lorenzo, Arthur, and I are alcoholics.”

“Oh. Alright then, I’ll just get that instead.” Tippy toeing, you peck his cheek briskly, sweet perfume hitting him. “I love you.”

Adoration fills his watercolor eyes. “I love you, too.”

Who knew?

Who knew that’d be the last time you’d hear those words coming from him?

-

Entering the familiar office, you wheeze, crouching down to catch your breath before sending over a coy smile. Carly laughs, clearly amused, before signaling to the chair that sits right in front of her. “We could have done this any other day as long as it was before the deadline, you know?”

“No,” you pant, heart beat barely switching back to its regular pace. Well. Sort of. “I need to get this out of the way, I promised Charles I’d be free before his birthday. He said it was his one and only wish, could you believe that, he’s so cute, isn’t he?” She blinks. Pink dusts your cheekbones. “Anyways, here it is.”

Looking down at your extended hand, she almost lets out a snicker. “I get I’m older than you, but really? You emailing it to me would have been just as effective.”

“I didn’t want to risk it going straight into your spam folder.” That, and I don’t want to see when you actually read it because I have a funny feeling you’re going to disapprove, which is okay, fair. “Here.”

“Very well, then,” she mumbles, retrieving it. “Why don’t we proofread it together one more time before send—”

Horrified at the innocent suggestion, you leap up from your chair, pushing back. “There’s no need, I checked it about a thousand times.” She raises a sharp brow at your outburst, the defensiveness in it. You laugh nervously. “And I should get going, anyways. Pascale is cooking Cha an early birthday dinner, can’t be late.”

Placing her forearms against the table, she nods slowly, but still unsure. “I won’t hold you back any longer, then. Tell him I said happy birthday.”

Tight lips form a forced smile, uneven breaths expanding. “Of course.”

You’re expected in an hour, so when you should be up forty-five minutes early, Pascale is pleased, but a bit surprised. Hugging you hello, she opens the door wider, letting you in. “They’re out in the back. Dinner should be ready in a bit.”

“No worries. Do you need any assistance?”

She shakes her head, thin blond hair swaying. “I’ve got it all under control, chérie.”

Nodding, you put your things down and start making your way towards the sound, beers clinking. You let out a snicker. “And here you are claiming not to be an alcoholic,” you joke. Flustered, Charles turns to face your soft voice. 

“It’s my first,” he squeaks.

“Third,” both Lorenzo and Arthur shoot, greeting you with a gentle nod. 

“It barely even has any alcohol,” your boyfriend tries defending, but the crack in his voice makes everyone burst out with laughter. Blood rushes to his cheeks. “Weren’t you supposed to be with Carly?”

“I was, but we got done pretty quickly.”

“What’d she think?” he asks, tugging you onto his lap. You giggle, meanwhile Arthur gags and Lorenzo blinks unbothered. “Bet she loved it.”

“I wouldn’t know. I left before she read it.”

He cocks his head. “Seriously?”

You nod. “You said you wanted my full attention.”

“I didn’t say it like that—”

“Well, now you have it.” You kiss his nose gingerly. “Happy early birthday, Charlie.”

The Monegasque smiles deeply. “Thank you.”

“Arthur! Lorenzo! Come help and set the table!”

Arthur groans. “Why just us? What about Charles?”

Poking her head out the window, Pascale aims a stern look, making him dash up. You laugh, ideally going to stand up, but gets tugged back down onto his thigh. You roll your eyes. “I should help, too. But you stay here and relax.”

“I will, but only if you stay with me.”

“Pascale needs my help—”

“Right, but she has both of them already.” He gives your hair a gentle tug. “Stay.”

Sighing, you nod, resting your head on his shoulder as he holds you. From here, you can see the breathtaking view of Monaco’s sunset. The ocean, the trees. Filled with satisfaction in life, you kiss the side of his neck, making him squirm slightly. “Carly says happy birthday. Early. Early birthday.”

A hum. “Make sure to tell her that I said thank you, the next time you see her.”

The sound of waves crashing sings softly. He traces shapes down your leg. “When will I be able to read it?”

You’re sure you stop breathing. “S-soon. After Carly gives me the green light, at least.”

A beat. “I’m excited.”

Your stomach churns. “You are?”

“Mhm. Very. Didn’t you know I was your biggest fan?”

Fixing yourself to look at him, you open your lips, feeling how dry they’ve become. “Charles—”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

A sore laugh. “They’re calling you.”

You reach towards your back pocket, pulling it out. Carly Freeman. Clicking it off, you shake your head. “It’s nothing.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

He wiggles his brows. “Doesn’t seem like it’s nothing. Answer her, it’s fine.”

“She’s going to have to wait until tomorrow,” you announce, standing up and dusting your hands off. “I’m here with you, and she's going to have to wait. Whatever it is, it can’t be more important than this.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. 

He sends a worried look. “Are you sure? What if it has something to do with your article? You should pick up—”

“I said I’m here with you,” you affirm. “Tomorrow. She’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” Standing to his full height, he sends a gesture towards the house. “Let's go?”

His hand reaches out, waiting for you. You smile, taking it. “Let’s go.”

-

Your phone keeps buzzing and it doesn’t let him sleep.

That, and Carly is a terrible liar.

Shifting in the bed as quietly as possible, Charles reaches for your phone, trying his best not to wake you. “Hello?” he croaks. The line stays quiet, static rolling. “I know it's you, Carly.”

“Charles! How’s my favorite driver?” 

You twist, unwrapping your leg that was draped over him. He freezes, soothing you a bit before you settle down. Climbing off the bed, he walks out, gently closing the door and heading towards the living room. “I know your favorite is Fernando, what’s up?”

She laughs nervously, cursing underneath her breath. ��Is my little journalist with you?”

“She is.”

“Great! May I speak with her very quick—”

“But she’s asleep.” She groans. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Well…”

Sitting down on the couch, he leans back, placing his feet onto the coffee table. Normally, he wouldn’t, but you weren’t here right now, and lucky for him, he wasn’t wearing any shoes. He clicks his tongue. “Does this have something to do with your guys’ meeting today?”

“Yes. And no.” More static. “Do you mind waking her up for me?”

“Um…well I do. Sorry, Carly, but she needs to get some rest, she’s been working non-stop, and—”

“No, no, I get it!” she squeals. “I totally understand. Can you let her know that I need to talk to her as soon as possible? Like—urgent. Please and thank you and have a good night!”

“Wait,” he says, furrowing his brows and pushing the phone closer to his ear. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing to worry about. Too much,” she adds. “It’s just that I need a bit of clarification, that’s all.”

“Clarification?”

“Yup. On a tiny mistake of hers. But we can fix it together, she still has time, and if she hurries then we can still meet the dea—”

“She doesn’t make mistakes, though. Ever.”

A hiss. “It’s a tiny one, Charles—”

“Okay, tell me and I’ll tell her.”

“What? I can’t. I need to speak directly with her first.”

“Carly…”

“What now?” she grits. 

“What’s the issue?” he presses harder. “I’ll let her know right now.”

The line goes quiet. For a moment, he begins to wonder if she’s hung up already, but when she clears her throat, he listens carefully, but can’t decipher her mumbles.

“She gave me the wrong USB.” That’s it? She groans. “Listen to me Charles—the USB she brought to be today only has her title written on it along with a few notes about what it’s supposed to be about. It’s the wrong one and I need the other one now.”

“Okay,” he mutters slowly, nodding. “I’m sure she’ll bring it to you once I let her know, but that’s going to have to be until tomorrow.”

She gasps. “You said you’d let her know right now!”

He winces. “I know I did, but it’s late! Trust me, though. I’ll tell her you called and I’ll even drive her myself tomorrow to drop it off. It must be around here somewhere right…” And it sure is. Sitting nicely on the coffee table, inches away from his feet. He sits up straight away, picking it up as if it were some sort of new discovery. Which in a way, it was. “Carly, why is this so important to you?”

“She’s my favorite client,” she answers without missing a beat. “I only want what’s best for her, and right now we need to fix this little mishap and get this article in as soon as possible.” A beat. “Also, maybe don’t mention the first part to Lissie, she’d totally kill me.”

Analyzing the black USB, he remains stoic, blinking only because he needs to. “Goodnight, Carly…”

“Yeah. I, um—goodnight, Charles.”

Once he hangs up, he’s quick on his feet, retrieving his laptop from the counter and sticking the drive in without a second to process what he’s doing. He shouldn’t. Probably. Definitely not. But the interest Carly clearly has was enough to poke his mind and for him to start wondering what on earth is so significant? 

And it’s so obvious now why.

Charles Lecelrc: The Man Behind the Helmet

His eyes skim fast, narrowing sharply.

Like any other human being, he struggles with depression, though fails to admit. Many sleepless nights, many fights, many canceled therapy appointments, I begin to question: does every praise his fans give him make him think he’s above all these things? The truth hurts, but it's only because it's real. And Charles Lecelrc, you are nowhere close to being as perfect as everyone makes you out to be.

His heart stops, re-reading the last sentence. He wishes for it to say anything but that, but it never changes, and it only mocks him like a school bully. 

Many assume that the death of his late-father, Hervé, and his late-godfather, Jules Bianchi, have made him stronger in a sense. That it has fed the drive in him to succeed. To be the best of the best, but what if that wasn’t true at all? Would any of you be surprised? Probably, but again, no one truly knows him the way I do. So, what feeds his determination? 

The thought of failing the same way they did. 

Anger bubbles up inside of him, grinding his molar until they crunch loudly against his temples. 

But who can blame him for having that fear inherited down onto him? Tabloids also have a part in this, and so do unwanted changes. One way or another, we can relate with the latter, but never in the way he does. Reading and hearing rumors takes a toll on Charles, that much is true, but what can we expect when his next new teammate is a seven-time World Champion. 

I guess the only question that stands in not only our minds, but also his… 

Is he strong enough to come head to head with someone as talented as Lewis Hamil—

“Wake up.”

Groggily, you rub your eyes. “Charlie, it’s dark out, come on. Come back to bed.”

“Stop calling me that, and get up.” In a single movement, he rips the blanket away and yanks you from your wrist, forcing you to sit. You gasp, his change of heart sobering you up from your sleepy daze. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

He laughs. “Me? What’s wrong with me? Are you serious right now or are you stupid?”

You flinch, taken aback. “Don’t talk to me like that, what did I do?”

“I won’t waste my breath explaining.” He drops his laptop on the bed, making you freeze as soon as you spot the familiar USB. “I'll let you re-read it.” 

“Where did you get this from?”

“Really? That’s what’s important to you?” He rolls his jaw, rubbing it until his skin turns a light shade of red. “If you don’t want me finding it, then next time don’t leave it out.”

Your lips go dry, crawling to the edge of the bed, but as soon as you’re about to reach out for him, he grimaces, shaking his head and taking three steps back. “Charlie—”

“No,” he hisses, glaring at you with utter hatred. The sight alone makes your eyes well up. “You don’t get to call me that. You don’t get to call me that ever again.” A cry rings through the air as you cover your hands over your face. “A-am I supposed to be impressed by what I read or what?”

“It’s no—”

“Did I do something to upset you or w-why were you talking about me like that?” he questions, genuine confusion taking over as he furrows his brows until they cause his eyes to pinch up too. 

Sniffling, you get up quickly, shaking your head adamantly until you get dizzy. “It wasn’t supposed to come off across that way! Are you kidding me?” Grabbing your heart, you soften your eyes. “I’m your biggest supporter.”

“Yeah? Well, that,” he snarls, pointing at the open screen like it's the most disturbing thing. “That doesn’t make sense with what you’re saying…” A beat. “Why would you do this to me?”

“Do what, though?” you whimper. “Everything I wrote about you is based on what you told me!”

“Exactly!” he shouts back, making the distance between you smaller, making you shrink. “I told you! Just you! I never once asked you to air out my business, and quite frankly, I thought that was common sense.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “You called me crazy and troublesome among other things. Are you my girlfriend or wolves in sheep's clothing? I’m trying to understand your logic here.”

You push your hair back, breathing hard. “You can’t just say that, there’s context behind that, come on…”

“Oh. Okay. My bad. I’m crazy because I talk to my father’s tombstone and Jules’. It's troublesome because I used to do cocaine in order to de-stress. I’m in over my head because I actually think I stand a chance against Lewis—a chance you convinced me I had!”

“That’s not what I meant!” you squeak. “You’re taking it all wrong, Charles, I would never say that about you!”

“But you did,” he states firmly. “And you know? If I’m so unready to face a friendly competition against my future teammate, then maybe I’m unready to face a lot of other things, too.” You freeze, dreading his next words as you plead him silently not to say them. “Maybe I’m not as ready to settle down with you as much as I thought I was…”

That does it. That seems to cut the little oxygen you had, off. Stumbling back, you feel the tears start to form again. “You don’t mean that…” You smile weakly. “You’re just a tiny bit upset right now, okay, fine. That’s fine. But you don’t mean any of that.”

Glaring until it hurts, he maintains eye contact. “Don’t tell me what I’m feeling, you don’t get to do that!”

You flinch. “I’m sorry.” A droplet slides down. “I’m sorry, okay?” More follows. “For all of it. For all of this. If I could take it all back, I would, you have to believe me, Charles, you know I would.”

His gaze lingers for a while longer, taking in your rosy nose. Your swollen eyes. Your wet cheeks. Everything that's supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn’t. “I really did trust you…” You breath hitches. “And I really did want you to win…” Pause. “And I still do.”

Strolling over, he disconnects the USB, making the screen go completely black, and hands it to you. Blinking down, you shake your head, too embarrassed to even look at it. “I don’t want it.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want it either…” Forcing your palm open, he places it down, instantly making your skin burn. “Journalist of the Year.”

You let out a wet sob, shoulders shaking. You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, but what you do know is that this doesn’t feel good and that your heart breaks with every passing second.

Never in a million years did you think you would experience any of this, especially with Charles. The Monegasque cocks his head, curls following. “I’m glad you’re about to get everything you’ve ever wanted, I really am.” He chuckles softly, eyeing you intently. “I just can’t help but wonder what that must feel like.”

“I was going to tell you,” you whisper meekly. “And you were supposed to understand where I was coming from.”

And if any anger was gone, well fuck that, it all came right back.

“Understand where you were coming from?” he spits out, shocked by your choice of words. “You really thought I would understand? I planned my entire future around you, and this is how you repay me? You went behind my back to write an article I didn’t even know about! We made a choice years ago!”

“No, you did!” you retort, despair rising hard and fast. “You came up with that decision all by yourself, Charles, I never agreed!” You look down. “Not entirely.”

“Huh,” he scoffs, squinting his eyes. “I was simply looking out for the girl that I love given that the internet is a scary place and she probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it, for God sakes, I guess this is my fault now, isn’t it?”

“I would have been able to handle it, but you never gave me the chance!”

“Yeah, because reporting on a driver and driver who's your boyfriend are two completely different things that you can’t seem to comprehend!”

Trembling, you blink carefully, gulping. “I would have done just fine.”

“You think so?” he challenges, a sour smile forming. You nod. “Okay. Sure. Why not?” Closing the final distance between you two, your breath gets stuck as he sends a dirty glare, one that's meant to sting. “You’re not talented. You only have your position because of your dating status, when in reality, your work is utter shit. Everything is handed to you.”

There’s a mix of a whimper and a plea that comes out of you as you screw your eyes shut. “You’re being mean, Charles…”

He laughs, clapping his hands once with amusement. “That’s what the internet is! Maybe I was right, then—you can’t handle it.”

“I could…” you murmur, but it's no use. 

The brunette catches himself wanting to comfort you. To apologize for everything. But then he figures—why? It’s not like he truly did something wrong. 

“You’re the greatest disappointment of my life.”

Something ended the moment those words left his mouth—you both knew it. Sobbing hard, your shoulders vibrate violently as you seemingly gasp for air. He looks away. 

“You know, our life could have been so good. So fucking good. But you went and ruined it.” Green eyes flicker back. “Why would you do this to us?”

“I never meant to hurt you,” you declare with wet lashes. 

“You did a bit more than that,” he replies, wincing, blinking rapidly. He smiles. “If you wanted to write your article on me, you should’ve asked me. You should have talked to me. But no. And the thing is, I would have let you! God. I would have let you write whatever you wanted—but not like this. You stole an interview from me with no right, honey…”

Quickly, you flicker your gaze up at him, hoping to see any trace of  love in that one word, but you’re not surprised when you don’t find any, deflating furthermore. He shrugs. Like what you did to him was no big deal. 

“You took it from me. But I would have given it to you.”

-

“Are you sure you want to do this? You can always change your mind, babe, it’s totally fine!”

“No.” You fix your hair, posture straight. You smile. “I need to.”

Lissie shares a slow nod, nibbling on her bottom lip before handing you her keynotes. “Alright. Good luck.”

The idea first sparked when the Brit girl mentioned how she was the only one granted permission to interview Charles at this year's FIA prize giving ceremony. You had debated back and forth with what seemed like forever, both Carly and Lissie trying to talk you out of it, but you pleaded until they reluctantly agreed. 

You haven’t seen him ever since that day.

It’s insane to think about, sometimes. You knew each other for two years, dated for three, and haven’t crossed paths for another two. And now, you’re here. He’d been upfront that day, didn’t even flinch with his one and only birthday wish, meanwhile you felt the last stab hurt more than anything.

I wish to never see you again. 

Not long after, he grabbed his things and left. But not before turning around, sending you one last glance, dull, empty, and nothing like him anymore. You still recall.

Turn it in, he said, smiling warmly despite his better judgment. Despite not meaning it. Don’t let this all be for nothing.

Shaking your hands, you grin, fixing your silk dress. The Brit girl stares worriedly, but as soon as you wink, she hides it. Not that well, but enough. “He’s going to be so mad at me,” she jokes, but it’s probably true. He has a soft spot for her, and he only gave permission to her. No one else. 

You wince, grabbing her hands delicately. “I really appreciate this, Lissie. More than you’ll ever know.”

Waving goodbye, you make your way to the private conference hall. It’s daunting, actually, the sight of the large table where he’ll be sitting and the small chair where you will. Quite the narrative. His picture is hung in almost every corner, from the beginning of his career to now. The latest one makes you smile as he lifts the trophy high up with a beaming grin, dimples poking out and eyes crinkled just the way you remember. 

You thought about apologizing again. Better this time. Once things simmered down. You really wanted to, but as soon as Carly informed you that the article would need to be published in order for fans to engage with your content and for them to decide on a winner, you knew the gist of him accepting your apology was most likely never going to happen. 

And you contemplated not posting it. Carly did too. Lissie did too. No one thought it was a good idea, but you still did it. Like he said—you couldn’t let all that be for nothing.

The hate came immediately, you expected nothing less. In their minds, you were a loyal girlfriend, but after reading your work, the comments came rolling in. You were honestly quite grateful because you know you deserved every last bit of it. 

But somehow—somehow—you won Journalist of the Year. 

You were shocked to say the least—bewildered. And you could see it in Lissie and Carly’s eyes too. So, while accepting the award with a forced smile, it hit you like a truck.

Did you truly earn this or was it all thanks to him?

Either way, does it matter anymore?

The door gently opens as he steps in, a loopy smile stretched onto his lips before coming to a complete stop. With your heart in your throat, you cough awkwardly, standing up and waving. You cringe, putting your hand down as soon as he furrows his brows, looking around. 

“S-she’s not here,” you say, voice cracking. You blush. “You’re looking for Lissie, right?” Utter silence. He blinks, unresponsive and as stiff as a tree. You lick your lips. “I-I-I can leave if you want.” But you really hope he doesn’t want you to.

The Monegasque’s features strike with something familiar—something you knew not long ago. Then…

He smiles at you. 

“It’s alright.” Carefully, he makes his way closer, scooting his chair right next to yours as you blink, sitting back down and staring with your plump lips slightly open. He cocks his head. “Y-you look the same.”

You giggle. “Is that supposed to be a good thing?” When he fails to answer, you bite down on your lip hesitantly. “You haven’t changed much, either.” 

He clears his throat, averting his gaze. “I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but why are you here and where is Lissie?”

You flinch. Okay. This was expected. You practiced hours for this very moment. “Don’t be mad at her, okay, I asked her to let me do this. I wanted to…see you, Charles.” The sound of his name leaving your lips makes his heart stop because it's been so long since he’s heard it. Too long. A subtle blush. “I’m here to apologize.”

“Ah,” he winces, scrunching his nose. “Don’t. We’re cool.”

“Are we, though?”

He stiffens. 

Exhaling, you place your things down, pursing your lips. He watches the way your knee bounces up and down. How you play with your ring before covering it neatly with the opposite hand. That catches him completely off guard as he blinks rapidly, thinking he must be mistaken. 

“I know I don’t deserve any of this,” you say nervously. “By all means, I should have been kicked out five minutes ago, but you…” Round eyes soften, lashes batting slowly. “You’ve always been a kind and generous human being, Charles.”

“Stop,” he whispers. You frown. “Saying my name, I mean. You can talk—we can talk, but please, just. Don’t say it.”

“O-okay,” you mumble, stomach churning. “I won’t.”

He lets out a tight smile, tilting his head. Years ago, his hair was a tad bit longer, fluffier even. Now, it’s still the same, but somehow more mature. His eyes are still young and naive, but with a hint of wisdom. He usually would wear mismatching suits, but now it matches. A lot of him has changed, and you weren’t there to witness it.

“Congrats, by the way,” you add happily. “World Champion, eh?”

Pink spreads across his cheeks, slowly but surely. “Thanks. I was close to losing my mind.”

You laugh. “Seven years later, but it’s well deserved. I’m so proud of you.”

And for a moment, he goes completely numb. He’s heard plenty of kudos ever since winning his first title—and they were nice, they made him feel nice—but this. You? It’s the first time it makes him feel accomplished. And that feels more than nice.

Playing with his bracelet, he nods sheepishly. “How have you—how, um…God. I, um, how have you been?”

“Oh.” You let out a genuine smile. Soft. Angelic. And everything he wishes to find in any other girl that isn’t you. It’s not something he should notice. “I’ve been well.” You raise your hand. “Engaged.”

“You sure are,” he mumbles, finally acknowledging the silver band before flashing an easy smile of his own. And maybe it was real, or maybe it wasn’t, but he wasn’t as upset as he thought he’d be. Just a tiny bit bothered, is all. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You lick your lips awkwardly. “You remember Carly’s son?”

A tide hits him as he internally screams. “Grayson, right?”

You nod. “She, uh, set us up a while ago and we hit it off.” You wince. “I’m sorry, is that weird?”

“No. Of course not,” he replies, shrugging. “You’re allowed to build your life with whomever you want. What happened between us was…” He chuckles. “So long ago. I’m happy for you both, I really am.”

And he means it this time.

Admiring the oval-shaped ring, you swoon as if you’re thinking of the exact moment he proposed to you, and that’s the prettiest sight Charles thinks he might ever see. Even if it didn’t end up being him. Once you look back up, he looks away, feigning interest in anything else stupidly.

“Yourself?”

“Myself?”

A playful eye roll. “Are you seeing anyone?”

A retch. “Ha ha, no! No, that’s not—that’s not for me.” You frown. He winces. “Please don’t be offended, but after you, I sort of lost interest in meeting other people. Pierre calls it trauma, I call it precaution.” A sore laugh. “B-but maybe one day. Never say never, am I right?”

The lights reflect directly towards you, so that lets him see the rosy blotches beginning to hug your cheekbones as your lips wobble. He panics. “N-no! Fuck. I didn’t mean to—”

“I ruined your life,” you wail, throwing your hands over your face. “Oh my God, I wrecked it!”

“You didn’t!” he tries. “I’ve gone on a couple of dates, here and there!”

You’re tiny cries take a quick pause. Sniffling, you shoot him a look, shiny eyes beaming back at him. “You have?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, slowly relaxing against his seat. “Sort of. Kind of.” A horrified expression maps out against your face. He grimaces. “I-It’s just not my thing!”

“I’m sorry, Ch—” You pause, rethinking your words. “I’m sorry.”

The Monegasque shrugs, hoping that’d be enough for you to drop the topic. “It’s okay, really. It’s a decision I made long ago, and I’d like to keep it like that for a while, at least.” You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding halfheartedly. “But please, um, tell me, how far along are you? Heard from Lissie that it’s a boy.”

You let out a wet giggle, wiping your tears away to the best of your ability. “Nineteen weeks. I’m in my second trimester.” Gingerly, you rub your tiny belly before your eyes light up. “Give me your hand!”

“What?”

Leaning in, you grab his large hand and place it down on your stomach, looking up at him to watch his reaction. At first, he’s weirded out, you can tell. He makes a silly face he probably doesn’t realize he’s making, but seconds later his features soften. His green eyes go round, no tension behind them. His brows lay flat, then knit together in amazement. He laughs, rubbing his thumb gently.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers. “When he kicks?”

You hum. “Sometimes it can. But I suppose it’s more discomfort than anything.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Cool?”

He nods rapidly. “Super cool.”

Pulling away, he can feel his adrenaline as high as a kite, and as fast as his car. He feels different, he notes, as if something has finally shifted inside of him. With this, he takes time to admire you in a way he hasn’t been able to ever since.

Your hair is cut into layers now, glossy and shorter than he remembers. Your lips, round, plump and berry tinted. Your eyes, doe, innocent, and pure in a way he can’t seem to wrap his head around. Smile, even, wobbly, and everything in between.

Your gaze flickers. “Question…”

“Answer,” he replies, studying your body language. 

It’s harder than you had initially thought it would be, asking him what you’d been wondering for these past two years. Was it all that bad? The answer might be yes. Yes, it was. To him, perhaps. But it tugs your tongue, and it burns a bit, but you push through, focusing on him and his watercolor eyes.

“Do you—”

But he still knows you. He can still read you. Before you, it’s always him who understands your train of thought. 

He shakes his head, dimples imprinting like a finger in sand. “No regrets.” 

A peach seed forms as you let out a sheepish laugh. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in life,” you admit, cringing slightly. “Just yesterday, I bought the wrong plane ticket. Got stuck in the airport for three extra hours.” He chuckles. “Totally unnecessary.”

“It happens,” he comforts you, clicking his tongue. 

“I guess so,” you say, sighing. “But betraying someone you love? Yeah. That’s got to be the worst mistake of my life.”

He flinches, an old wound suddenly opening. “Hey, you—”

You raise your hand, pleading with him. “Let me just…” So, he forces himself to sit there quietly, to not intrude no matter how much he really wants to. It’s fine, he wants to say, I’m fine now, we’re fine now, seriously.

A wince. “Do you know how guilty I feel whenever Grayson polishes my award?” A scoff. “He means no harm with his actions, but it makes me feel like shit everytime I walk past it. I’ve begged him to put it away somewhere in the attic, but he’s as proud as can be. Say’s an accomplishment like that deserves to be shown off. That it’s proof of all my hard work.” You smile. “Much like you and your trophy.”

You exhale. “You were right, though.” A hum. “I don’t deserve it.”

“I never said that.”

“Sure,” you give in quietly. “But you did say that if I won, I’d always wonder if I was truly respected for my work or if I was respected because of you.”

He bites his tongue. 

You shrug lamely. “And that’s just something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life…” Steadily, you ease your eyes back towards him as you find him already staring at you, listening close and curious. “And I want you to know that I’m fine with that.” A beat. “What I’m not fine with is you being mad at me for the rest of your life.”

Charles opens his mouth, feeling his tongue as dry as the desert and his throat as dusty as the highest mountain. “I’m not mad at you…anymore.” He sits up straighter. “I said a lot of things to you that night that I shouldn’t have said, but you have to understand that you hurt me a thousand times worse.” 

Tears well up your eyes as you nod shamefully. He continues despite feeling the need to reach out for you. “I just wanted you to feel what I was feeling, even if that meant—well. You know. And, um…I tried to forget all of that, but I, too, felt guilty, so—I’m glad you’re here. That way I can say…I’m sorry.”

“No!” you wail, raising your arms up. “No, I’m sorry! I broke your trust, and I was a God awful girlfriend.”

“You did,” he chuckles before scrunching his nose in deep thought. “But you were also the best I’ll ever have.”

A wet sob escapes.

“I forgive you.”

“S-shit,” you let out. “You don’t know how g-good it feels to finally hear you say that.”

A gentle smile. “You?”

You giggle, standing up. “I have nothing to forgive you for, but yeah. Okay. I forgive you, as well.” You open your arms for a hug. He blinks. “It’ll make me feel better.”

Tsk. “You used to do this all the time wherever we fought,” he says, a hint of sadness wavering in his eyes before disappearing into thin air. Extending to his full height, he towers over you before going in to close the distance. He halts, coughing awkwardly.

You snicker, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Right. You're hugging two of us now.”

A wave of jealousy pangs his chest for a second. You’ve moved on, and he’s stuck in the year you were still in his life. Still his. He envies Grayson in every sense there exists, but he swallows down that pill because he’d always been a nice bloke the very few times he interacted with him. He needs to move on, too. 

Even if it takes him his whole life to figure out how. 

“The more the merrier.”

Your face has gone completely numb by now from how hard you're grinning from ear to ear. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he goes over your shoulders, you sigh contently as you catch the whiff of his cologne. His heartbeat quickened at the smell of your perfume. 

“Question,” he whispered. You chuckle against his chest. Answer. He gulps, nose twitching. “Would it make me a bad person to say that you’re probably the only girl I’ll ever love?” Silence. He screws his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. Why the fuck would he ever say that—

“I’d only say that I don’t deserve to be her,” you respond. “Anyone but me.”

A flinch. “O-of course. You’re getting married, you’re having a baby, what was I th—”

“Honey…”

He freezes. 

You lean back, holding his face between your hands and smiling. “It’s not your name…”

His voice catches. “It’s not…”

A deeper smile. Nostalgic. “A piece of me will always love you.” A pause. “You know me so well. Better than anyone. You’ve seen me naked. You’ve dressed me. You’ve seen me with makeup. You’ve seen me without. And…well—you’ve seen my good side. But you’re also the only one who's seen my bad.”

His palms quickly get sweaty as he tries his best to not do anything he might regret. And not because he’ll wish to take it back, but because you would. Neat brows draw in together as you graze his stubble with your thumb. As nurturing as a mother, which he supposes you already are. 

“I’d say that makes us pretty close, no?”

“Not as close as I’d like to be.” 

“You’ll find someone.” A beat. “Someone who’ll love you right.”

“You didn’t?” he questions before he can stop himself. “Sorry—”

“My love for you was honest. But I blew it.”

I’m still here, he wants to yell out. If you still want me like I want you, then I’m still here.

But he refrains from doing so.

“You’ve never done me wrong,” he attempts, kissing your palm gingerly before softening his gaze. You send a playful glare. “Except for that one time.” You snort. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore because—because it doesn’t matter anymore…”

Maybe it's the hormones, you sort of wish it was, but you know it’s due to his gentleness. You don’t deserve his sympathy, you don’t deserve even a fraction of it. Crying, you kiss his cheek, hoping everything you feel transfers itself into the warmth of his skin. And you don’t know, but it does just that.

Closing his eyes, he prays to dream about this kiss forever. Have nightmares, who even cares. As long as he doesn’t forget. 

You step away carefully, taking him in as his eyes flutter. 

“Charles Leclerc, first time World Champion…”

He smiles. You smile. 

His dimples pop out. Your eyes crinkle.

He loves you. You love him.

And maybe it didn’t work out in this life.

But maybe in the next.

“May I have an interview with you?”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna @emmaxdelicate

[cookiescribble]

Take Me Home

A/N: fun fact, I wrote this entire thing while i was sobering up after getting way too drunk at a friend's party. mod ghost can attest to this. - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer’s girlfriend comes home drunk after girls’ night, and he helps take care of her while politely turning down her advances. (based on 7x16)

CW: mentions of alcohol and sex

~~~

Spencer was all too happy to take care of his godson. He didn’t even need a reason. So when JJ said they were having girls’ night, he really didn’t mind babysitting. 

The girls came back late. Like, middle-of-the-night-into-early-morning late. 

JJ unlocked the door and came into the house, trying to be as quiet as she could be so she didn’t wake anyone up. She thanked Spencer for babysitting. 

“I really appreciate you watching my baby… and now you have to take care of your own baby” she snickered. 

Spencer gave her a confused look until he saw his girlfriend stumbling in behind her. She gave him a big smile before tripping right into his arms. He stood her up as she continued giggling, trying to be quiet so she didn’t wake up the house. 

“Hi, sweetheart!” She kept giggling and wrapped her arms around him, mostly to hold herself up, but also because she was happy to see him. 

JJ patted Spencer on the shoulder. “She fell in the bathroom a couple hours ago. Good luck.” 

He took a deep breath and gave JJ a little smile before escorting his girlfriend out the door and into his car. As he was buckling her in, she pulled on his collar a little and said, “you look extra nice tonight, is this a new outfit?”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, shutting the door and getting in the driver's seat. “It’s the same outfit I was in when you left 8 hours ago.” He started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. 

She fidgeted in the seat a little as she looked at him. “No, I don’t remember you looking this good when I left…” she reached her hand out to place it on his thigh, smiling mischievously at him. 

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the road. “That’s the alcohol talking. Did you know studies have shown that people who have consumed a moderate amount of alcohol find the faces of members of the opposite sex 25% more attractive than their sober counterparts?” He glanced at her again for a moment before adding, “and you’ve definitely consumed more than a moderate amount of alcohol, so you’re basically looking through rose-tinted glasses right now.”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s not the alcohol. You’re just hot.” She continued to stroke along his thigh before he reached down and placed her hand in her lap, giving it a little squeeze before he let it go. 

“You guys were out awfully late tonight. You know we have to go out in the morning, right?” He asked as he pulled into the parking lot of their apartment. He got out of the car before opening the passenger door and helping his girlfriend out of her seat and towards the apartment. 

She waved him off, saying “it’ll be fine, I’ll be up and ready in time.” She let him lead her towards their front door, smiling when she felt his hands around her waist. 

When they were in the apartment and Spencer closed the door behind them, her hands were all over him. She stood on her tiptoes to give him sloppy kisses on the lips. He had to keep his hands on her so she wouldn’t fall over. “Baby…” she started, her hands moving under his shirt. 

He took her hands and pulled them away, despite her pout of protest. “Sweetie, not tonight,” he said. 

She pouted more. “Why not? I can’t be handsy with my boyfriend? We’ve been dating a long time, you know.”

“4 years, 3 months, 22 days” he responded instinctually. “But, you’re too drunk right now. We can’t do this when you’re this drunk.”

She crossed her arms. “I am NOT drunk.” She said definitively, as if that would convince him. 

He smiled and shook his head, crossing his arms. “Okay. Let’s assume that’s true.” He took his hands off her waist so she could stand on her own, pointing at the end of the hall. “Walk to the end of the hall and back.”

She huffed a bit before stumbling down the hallway and back. “See, I’m fine!”

He stifled a laugh. “I would hardly call that walking.” She rolled her eyes at him while he continued talking. “Stand on one foot.”

She hesitated for a moment before lifting one of her legs up, immediately falling into him. When he gave her a smug look, she pointed at him and said, “Hey, in my defense, I can’t stand on one foot when I’m sober, either.”

He laughed and nodded. “Well, that’s true. I’ll give you that. You’re just clumsy.” He held her by the waist again. “Can you count backwards from 1,000?”

She furrowed her brows. “Are you serious right now? Would you really rather give me a sobriety test than have sex with me tonight?”

He kissed her on the forehead before guiding her towards their bedroom. “Yes. It was more for my own amusement than anything else.” He sat her down on the bed before looking through the drawers for her pajamas. “You can’t even stand on your own right now. What did you expect?”

She huffed before responding. “I expected a boyfriend who would be happy to see me.”

He shook his head at her theatrics before handing her pajamas over to her. “When did I say I wasn’t happy to see you? I’m always happy to see you.”

She crossed her arms, not moving. “You’re not acting like it. And you know you’re not a cop, right? I don’t think FBI agents usually give tests like that.”

He laughed. “I know. I was merely demonstrating your inebriation through a common field sobriety test.” He took the pajamas back from her and placed them on the bed. “I could never take advantage of you like that. I can help you with your nighttime routine, though.”

She made a face like she wanted to be mad at him, but she couldn’t be. “You know, most guys would love that they could get their drunk girlfriend into bed this easily.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. I don’t need to, though. And you’re way too drunk to consent.” He stood her up and brought her clothes to the bathroom. “How would that be enjoyable, anyway? You can barely even think straight; I would just be worrying about you the whole time.” He put some toothpaste on her toothbrush and handed it to her. “And, with the numbing effects of alcohol, you wouldn’t enjoy it that much either; you’d barely be able to feel anything.”

She looked at him for a moment before taking the toothbrush and starting to brush her teeth. “I guess you’re right… you know, sometimes I hate when you’re right.” 

He laughed, hugging her close to him while she finished brushing her teeth. “I know. But it’s okay, I’m still here, sweetheart.” He swayed her back and forth a bit, as if he was calming down a fussy baby. 

She rinsed her mouth after she brushed her teeth, looking at their reflection in the mirror. She could see how tired she looked. “… Thank you. I’m happy you’re here.”

He kissed the top of her head and moved her so she could hop up onto the sink and he could help take her makeup off. He washed her face and smiled when she closed her eyes as he massaged the soap into her skin. “Comfortable?” 

“Mmm…” she mumbled, the circular motion of his hands on her face starting to lull her to sleep. 

He chuckled, gently patting her face dry with a towel when he was done. He helped her off the counter and started to help change her clothes. 

When he took her shirt off, she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him. He just laughed and helped her into her pajamas. “Yes, you look great, but no, I’m not changing my mind.”

She sighed and pouted a bit more. “You’re no fun…” she said before yawning. Without even looking at him, she said, “wipe the smug look off of your face; I know I’m tired, that doesn’t mean I agree with your decision.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re not even looking at me.” But he was grinning, and they’ve been together long enough that she knew exactly what face he’d be making. 

“I know you have that I-told-you-so look on your face. I don’t need to look at you to know that.” She turned to him, confirming what she already knew. “Let’s just go to bed.”

He nodded and held her as he guided her back to the bedroom. He lifted the covers so she could get under them before turning off the light and getting under the covers with her. He turned to her and kissed her cheek a few times. 

He could tell she was still upset. He held her in his arms and let her rest her head on his chest. “I know you’re all moody from the alcohol, but I think you’ll thank me later.” 

She grumbled and crossed her arms. “You think I’m moody? Is that why you’re being so mean to me?”

He gave her a confused look. “How am I being mean to you? Did I say something wrong?” He always struggled with social interaction, so he was worried something he said had come across the wrong way. 

She huffed. “It feels like you don’t even like me tonight. All you’ve done is push me away. I was so happy to see you and I couldn’t wait to get home and be with you and you don’t even care.”

“Honey…” he started before pulling her on top of him and wrapping his arms around her waist; he knew it was her favorite way to cuddle, so he figured it could help while she was being overdramatic. “I’m so happy to see you. The only reason I’ve been pushing you away is because I know the effects of alcohol on the human brain and how it impairs judgment. And I know we’ve been together a long time and you say it doesn’t matter, but it matters to me.”

She looked at him for a moment and sighed quietly, realizing how dramatic she was sounding. “I guess I’m using my emotional brain while you’re using your logical brain, so it made me feel like you didn’t care.”

He kissed her forehead and hugged her closer to him. “I do care. I love you.” He kissed her cheek to try to get the point across. “If it helps, you being all over me has made the decision a little… difficult.” He blushed lightly and shifted his position a little. 

She giggled and nudged her nose into his. “It helps a little. I’m glad I had at least a little bit of an effect on you.” She yawned and buried her face into his chest. “That’s… all I needed to hear, I guess.”

He stroked her hair as he saw her close her eyes. “Get some sleep, sweetie. I already know you’re gonna be cranky when we go out tomorrow. You should at least get a little sleep. 

She groaned, but she was too tired to argue with him. Besides, he was right. Like he always was. 

…

She wasn’t the only one who was cranky the next day. 

All the girls were so hungover, they could barely tolerate being there. And Spencer’s enthusiasm was only making it worse. 

“Why are you yelling?”

“Make him stop…”

Derek laughed and asked, “What did you guys drink last night.”

“The green fairy…” Penelope answered, groaning. 

Derek laughed again, pointing to Spencer and his girlfriend. “Well, you two must’ve had fun when you got home.”

She grumbled in response, making Derek laugh again. “No?”

“He made me take a sobriety test.” She rolled her eyes, but her sunglasses blocked her eyes from being seen. 

Derek raised his eyebrows, looking at Spencer. “Seriously?” He looked back at her. “Did you pass?”

She scoffed, throwing her hands up a little. “No! I was wasted!”

Spencer laughed and hugged her from behind. “It’s true. It was pretty amusing, though.”

“Man, she must’ve been thrilled about that,” Derek answered sarcastically. 

She sighed, leaning into Spencer a little. “At least he made me breakfast. He did that right.”

Spencer rested his head on her shoulder. “I did everything right. You just don’t want to admit it.” He grinned, sounding a little smug. 

She looked at him pointedly, leaning up a little to speak quietly in his ear, so only he could hear her. “Hey, if you keep acting like that, we’re not doing anything tonight either.”

He laughed and responded softly. “You know you don’t mean that.”

She grumbled. “Okay, fine. But can you at least stop being so smug? It’s making me even crankier than I am from the hangover.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Okay, okay. Deal.”

Everyone chatted casually for a bit before shifting their focus on the race, eagerly awaiting the end of it.

[luveline]

You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.” 

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could. 

“You’re not saying hi anymore?” 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.” 

He looks up tentatively. “You have?” 

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.” 

“Why?” Spencer asks. 

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.” 

“Okay.” 

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.” 

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.” 

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.” 

“And stuff.” 

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.” 

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone. 

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks. 

“What are you enjoying lately?” 

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?” 

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.” 

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse. 

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail. 

“Hug?” you ask hopefully. 

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear. 

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly. 

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second. 

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?” 

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.” 

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?” 

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him. 

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger. 

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.” 

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.” 

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face. 

“Nothing,” Spencer says. 

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.” 

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases. 

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart.