#i had no idea how to close out this post so i just didn’t

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 8 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Y/n discovers a few things and a few more are revealed.

Warnings: sex, minors please stay away.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Y/n was upset. Her semester was ending. The exchange programme had come to a close. Now, she’d have to leave for her internship and then go back to her university for the remainder of her studies. She’d miss her friends. She’d miss this new country. 

And who knew how long Azriel was posted here in this city? 

It was a coincidence that they met and they had a good few months together but Y/n really did not want to go back to a life where he was not a constant. 

The idea of it didn’t sit well with her. 

After her last exam today, she’d taken some time for her friends here. On her way back to the apartment, she’d started feeling upset but then she wore a smile and rang Azriel’s doorbell.       

He’d opened the door, took one look at her, and fucked her wildly like he wanted to reinforce something. And then, they made love to each other with Y/n slowly riding him. 

Y/n let herself rise and fall, eyes closed. Her hands were on his chest, tattooed and perfect for her. His large hands nearly covered all of her ass. 

Fuck. 

He was such a large man and the most convincing evidence of it was deep inside her, thick and throbbing as she rode him at her own pace. 

She could feel the air on her body. Her nipples were already hard and were even more sensitive after Azriel had sucked on them and smeared his saliva, and then left them exposed. 

Her breasts ached and all she wanted was his large hands to pinch and grab them roughly as if he selfishly owned her. 

His hands. Gods, they were so perfect. 

The tattoos on his fingers was an arousing sight. 

Especially after she’d once seen herself suck them. 

The way those hands groped every part of her and were still on her ass. 

She was in bed, tired after exams and sex. Azriel had woken up after a nice cuddling session for a meeting. It was an urgent one and he’d promised to return soon but Y/n was not going to pester him even if he didn’t. 

The man had a job. That too, at Umbra got fuck’s sake. That was an empire on its own managed by some young fellow Y/n hadn’t bothered about since that was not her field. 

Sex with Azriel always made her sleepy and she always woke up feeling refreshed. 

Her eyes were closed. The furry blanket was so cosy and she was just there. 

Her phone rang and interrupted her peace. 

Y/n groaned in frustration. She grabbed it and softened when she saw Azriel’s name. She swiped on the screen and accepted the call. “Hey.”

“Hello, sweetheart. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you.”

“No, no. Tell me.” She wouldn’t tell him that she wanted to sleep even more. 

“Could you bring me my iPad? It’s on the nightstand.” Y/n rose and looked around for the device. 

“Where. . Got it.” She removed herself from the sheets, ended the call, took the iPad, and was about to walk out of the room when a message popped up. 

Miss Y/n’s mother has sent a parcel to the apartment she shared with Nesta Archeron. We believe her mother has no knowledge of her current whereabouts and her exchange program. 

What? 

Y/n tapped on the notification and the chat opened. It was a group chat with Azriel and a bunch of people. She scrolled and read the messages.

Other members of the group chat were constantly updating on her location and activities while Azriel had sent the occasional ‘okay’.

She also found photographs of her taken from her outings with friends. Taken from a distance and clearly not with her consent. 

The more she saw, the more she wanted to smash her head against something. 

Why? 

Why did Azriel have her followed? 

He’d always known where she was, at what time, who she was with. She hadn’t bothered hiding much from him. 

Then why was this. . ?

Y/n walked over to the room with the iPad, the group chat open on it.

She saw Azriel’s eyes widen as she entered the room. She placed the iPad on his table. “What’s this?”

He looked at the chat quietly and then looked up at her. 

Y/n felt hot with fury coursing through every part of her. And yet, for some strange reason, she felt cold. 

It wasn’t until Azriel walked over and wrapped a jacket around her that she realised that she hadn’t dressed after leaving bed. 

She’d been naked and angry. 

“I’ve had you followed, Y/n.” 

And she couldn’t control it. 

She was barely restraining herself until then but to hear him say that he had her followed broke the dam. 

“Why? Didn’t you trust me enough to go out and not cheat on you?” 

This time, Azriel sounded confused. “It wasn’t because I thought you were cheating on me.” 

The audacity of this man to say such a thing. He had her watched and followed and photographed and so much more. 

“Scroll up, Y/n. This started the night I met you in that club before we ever spoke to each other properly.” He extended the iPad to her. 

She hesitantly took it and scrolled up furiously. When she reached the first message, she saw the date the group had been created. Feyre’s birthday. There was a photo of her dancing in that club with Nesta. 

Somebody had sent a few documents. She opened them—her CV, biodata, details of people close to her. 

“You’ve known all this about me?” He silently nodded. She felt like such a fool. 

Y/n couldn’t even think. She couldn’t process it like this. So she simply kept the iPad on his desk and walked away. 

“Y/n. Y/n, listen to me, sweetheart.” He was following. She increased her pace and entered his room. Her clothes were on the chair and she began dressing. “Y/n, please. I only wanted to know about you.”

She looked at him and it hurt. 

It hurt to know that this man didn’t trust her. 

Didn’t trust time. 

Didn’t trust their connection. 

“I would’ve told you everything with time.”  She wanted to cry. “Whenever I was ready to revisit my past and speak about it, I would’ve told you. About my childhood. My ex. My mother.”

“I only wanted to know about you.” He was pleading but she was so tired. 

“You did not trust that our relationship would reach to the point where I would ever confide in you. You thought yourself entitled to find everything about me. .” She choked back a sob. Azriel moved to hold her but she took a step behind and he halted. 

“You did not trust me.” It was a whisper and it broke everything. “And therefore, you violated my privacy.”

“I did not get that information because I didn’t trust you.” Azriel moved. When he reached her, he kneeled. 

“I was impatient. I wanted to know everything about you immediately. I’m desperate for anything you’ll give me. You heart, your body—I cannot have them unless you give them to me. But information—that I can take from any place. And I’ll take any scrap of it you leave behind.”

What was this feeling? She was being broken but also healed at the same time. And even then, everything hurt. 

“And as for being followed, I had to know that you were safe.” He was still kneeling. The world was blurry.

Y/n was still cold as she hadn't dressed completely. 

She didn’t know anymore. 

She didn’t want him to know that she had a troubled past at least until she could help it. 

She knew it would’ve come out soon but this soon? It wasn’t at her own pace. 

What was she supposed to do? 

Should she explain it to Azriel?

Should she be angry at him? 

Should she end this relationship? 

It was dizzying now. Her breathing was becoming difficult. 

She could hear her sniffles, Azriel calling her name. “. . breathe, sweetheart. Inhale. . . Exhale. . .” 

He kept telling her to inhale and exhale until she could focus on those words and force her breathing into a pattern. 

She was sitting now. Azriel was wiping her nose with something. A blanket was draped over her. He was right there, holding her hand. 

Her eyes fluttered close and Y/n faded into the dark. 

****

Whispers.

Somebody was talking. 

Somebody was responding. 

It ached. 

Something more than her body ached. 

“. . rest and she’ll be. . medicines. . . care.” 

Y/n faded away again. 

****

Y/n was warm. In a room. It was dark. And a hand held her own. 

Azriel was right there, sitting on the floor, one hand holding hers and the other arm folded on the bed to rest his head. 

He must’ve fallen asleep. 

She tried to rise and felt too weak. But the shuffling of the blankets was enough to wake him up. 

“How are you feeling?” His deep voice asked. 

“Fine.” She didn’t want to say anything more. Absolutely nothing. 

She’d sweat a lot. The greasy feeling of it remained on her body. “You have a fever.” 

Oh. 

“Have some medicine.” And he rose to leave her side, to get a strip of tablets and water from the nightstand but she did not let go of his hand in the first instance. 

“Y/n.” And then she immediately let go and looked away. What was she supposed to do? 

Was their bond supposed to be overlooked by this? 

Could it be so easily sidelined? 

She saw his hand with the medicine come in her line of sight. “Medicine.” 

His voice was only deep whispers ever since she woke up. As if he was afraid his normal pitch would shatter something.

Y/n quietly took the medicine and water and consumed them. Azriel was there to take the glass away from her and he kneeled by the bedside. 

“You had a panic attack and then you fainted.” 

“And the fever?”

“You came to me with the iPad unclothed, leaving your body exposed to the cold. And you didn’t fully dress when you came to the bedroom.” And she was now wearing one of his sweatshirts which was too big for her.

Y/n could tell that he was being careful with his choice of words. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He clutched her hand as though in prayer. “It’s my fault you had a panic attack.” 

Damn straight. 

Was there any point? 

“I need to go.” She knew she sounded weak and pathetic and even if she did go back to her apartment, there was no way she’d be able to take care of herself.

“Please. Rest here until you recover. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” 

“Don’t you understand?” Oh gods, she was going to sob any moment now. Or scream. “If I stay here, even for a single second, I will not get any clarity.” 

“As you wish.” Azriel retreated to a distance. Y/n slowly stood up under his gaze. 

She remembered that she had only worn her panties and jeans when Azriel had followed her to apologise. So she removed his sweatshirt he had dressed her in. 

When the sweatshirt was over her head, leaving her bare, Y/n saw that Azriel had turned away, as if he knew his permit to see her naked had been revoked.

She wore her own clothes and looked around. She grabbed her phone and walked towards the door where he stood with his back towards her.

Upon hearing her footsteps, he moved away, clearing the way for her. Once she began walking, she heard him follow her. She looked behind and saw his imposing figure behind her.

He was in pain. 

So much pain. 

She could see it. 

But so was she. 

And Y/n had had enough of ignoring her own pain for others. 

But Azriel standing there and following her from behind was a realisation. 

That he’d always be there. Behind her if not beside her. 

“Call me.” He suddenly said. “If you need anything—medicines, food, anything—just call.”

She wanted to kiss him. So she turned away and left his apartment.

Y/n climbed into her bed, her fluffy blanket, and fell asleep without changing her clothes. 

****

Azriel had a mission. 

Scratch that, he had two missions. 

One, Y/n’s recovery. 

Two, Y/n’s forgiveness.

He honestly didn’t understand where she’d gotten the idea that he had her followed to monitor her in case she cheated. 

If she did cheat on him, it would be the fault of the fuckwit who thought he could drive a wedge between them. 

Azriel would simply dispose of any such menaces and Y/n wouldn’t even know anything.

He sighed.

Her not knowing had not turned out well for him. 

He’d flown in his personal doctor in the middle of the night. And while she’d been resting in his apartment, he’d gotten a doctor in the city to check on her. 

His doctor was situated in one of the apartments, ready at a moment’s notice. 

Azriel kept stock of medicines and food ingredients, just in case she wanted something. 

And he waited like a dutiful husband. 

And while he waited, he googled up on how he could earn her forgiveness. 

The bugs in her apartment began transmitting her sound. She was crying and talking. He heard the name Nesta. And more crying. 

She was worried about how this would pan out. 

How she’d been an excellent fool by falling for him. 

Wait. 

Y/n had fallen for him? 

Oh. 

He shouldn’t be happy considering what happened but he couldn’t help it. 

And it was then that Azriel decided that he should probably get rid of those bugs before she saw one or saw something else on his iPad. 

He wasn’t going to hide the iPad. 

He didn’t like hiding things from Y/n but there were certain things he simply hoped she’d never find. 

It was poor thinking but what else could he do? 

He was obsessed and his morals clashed and crashed far too often for it to make sense. 

As as for how to earn her forgiveness, Y/n’s favourite books had a lot of fictional men grovelling after fucking up. 

He needed to analyse everything. 

What exactly was she hurt about. 

What could he do to stop her hurt? 

How to make amends. 

How to convince her that he was not a complete piece of shit and was worth some consideration of forgiveness. 

Her safety had been an important concern. 

If Y/n knew the number of people that had started following her while she went out on her own. 

The number of people that had been beaten up so that she could roam around outside without anything to fear.

The number of phone numbers he’d looked into after any call that made her uncomfortable. He had them all deactivated.

No. 

Her safety was an important matter that needed his attention. 

It was not a bargaining chip to win an argument or to prove a point. 

It was simply his duty. 

But how was he going to convince her that he hadn’t worried about her cheating? 

That he was only endlessly and ravenously curious about her ever since he first saw her? 

Azriel sighed. He needed advice. He picked up his phone and called the one person he trusted enough with such a matter. When the call was answered, he began. “Hello, mum.”

****

Taglist:

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[aventurineswife]

not exactly a request (feel free to write the idea however) but i was thinking of smth miiight with a little tw on a certain interpretation of aven's past, but i'd like to think about Aventurine honestly spouting that it's nice to have an enjoyable intimate moment while he cuddled his lover after bed matters and reader is just like hugged him tight knowing what it implies.

"You hug me tightly as if it's just a sweet dream"

Summary: After an intimate moment, Aventurine allows himself to be vulnerable, confessing how much he treasures the rare comfort of being loved without conditions. You embrace him tightly, offering reassurance and unconditional love as you share a quiet, tender moment that helps him begin to heal from his past.

Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Intimacy Cuddling, Emotional Vulnerability, Slow Burn Healing, Implied Past Trauma, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Brief mentions of Aventurine’s traumatic past, Themes of vulnerability and recovery from emotional trauma.

A/N: need to give him all the hugs and kisses now 😕

The room was cloaked in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through gauzy curtains, casting faint patterns on the walls. The quiet hum of the city outside blended into the peaceful stillness inside, broken only by the sound of slow, steady breaths. Aventurine lay beside you, his hair disheveled and his eyes half-lidded with a rare sense of vulnerability.

His arm draped lazily across your waist, his fingertips tracing absent patterns on your bare skin. The intimacy of the moment felt fragile, as if speaking too loudly would shatter it. He wore his usual post-mischief grin, but there was a softness in his expression, a naked honesty he rarely revealed to anyone but you.

“You know…” Aventurine’s voice was low, his usual sharpness dulled by the haze of afterglow. “It’s nice. This.”

You tilted your head slightly to look at him, catching the way his eyes seemed to drift, not quite meeting yours. His fingers paused their lazy movements, his hand now resting warm and steady on your side.

“It’s nice to just… enjoy a moment,” he continued, his tone uncharacteristically somber. “Not to think about what’s next or what I need to win. Just this.”

His words settled between you like a confession, carrying a weight that wasn’t immediately apparent. You could hear the unspoken truth in his voice, the years of calculating every move, every risk, every wager. The memories of a past where he’d been treated as nothing more than a tool, a piece on someone else’s chessboard.

Your chest tightened. You reached out without a word, pulling him close, wrapping him in an embrace that was as much for you as it was for him. Aventurine didn’t resist, his body folding against yours as if he had been waiting for that very moment of solace.

He exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders melting away under your touch. His head rested against your chest, and you felt his fingers grip you just a little tighter, his calm facade momentarily slipping.

“You’re too good to me, you know?” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin.

“You deserve this.” you replied, your voice firm but gentle.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Aventurine’s breathing grew slower, more even, but you knew he wasn’t asleep. The vulnerability in his eyes, the way he clung to you—it wasn’t just exhaustion. It was trust.

“Sometimes…” he began again, voice barely audible, “I wonder what it’d be like if I’d known this kind of comfort before. Maybe I wouldn’t have turned out the way I did.”

You hugged him tighter, your heart breaking at the rawness in his voice. “You’re not defined by your past,” you whispered. “You’re here now, and you’re loved.”

His fingers brushed your back, an unspoken thank-you in the way he touched you. Aventurine pressed a soft kiss against your collarbone, a gesture so tender it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“I’ll admit,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I didn’t think I’d ever get this. You make life feel… worth the risk.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand cupping his face. His eyes finally met yours, and in them, you saw a flicker of something rare: hope.

“You’re worth it too.” you said simply.

For the first time, Aventurine didn’t have a quick, witty retort. Instead, he leaned into your touch, letting himself feel the weight of your words. And for that night, the strategist, the gambler, the broken boy who had clawed his way out of the ashes, allowed himself to be held—not as a piece in a game, but as someone worthy of love and peace.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Athens to Miami [6/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 7.5k Summary: How will finding out about Jeff affect your marriage? The situation also brings you both to consider how long you can keep going on playing Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to the public. Steve also questions whether upcoming campaign plans will help or hurt.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: I left you with a bombshell at the end of the last chapter, but FEAR NOT because I drop you in immediately where we left off. This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PREVIOUSLY... You take a steadying breath, then look up at Steve and say, “Jeff Connor is my former husband.”

[SEPTEMBER 28 - AFTERNOON CAMPAIGN FLIGHT FROM ATHENS TO MIAMI]

Some eyes had been on you, but now all of the staff turn to look at Steve to gage his reaction to this statement. His mouth is slightly open, a storm in his blue eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

You consider him for another moment, then pull out your phone, scroll to Jeff’s name in your contacts, and hit the call button. As the call starts to connect, Bucky leans over to whisper something in Steve’s ear. Steve frowns and shakes his head. Bucky shares a glare with him, then gets up and leaves the staff cabin.

As your call rings through to Jeff, you also stand, but you leave the staff cabin in the other direction, passing through to the private area that only you and Steve have total access to - anyone else needing to knock or be invited in.

You’re about to close the door when Steve catches it and follows in behind you.

You two exchange a look, both of you evidently trying to give nothing away about what just happened, and then you turn away to look out the window just as Jeff picks up on the other end of the line, answering with your name in an urgent and concerned tone.

"Hey, Jeff," you respond, keeping your voice neutral despite the tension you feel. You can feel Steve's presence behind you, a silent but palpable force in the small cabin.

"I'm so sorry," Jeff's voice comes through the phone, sounding genuinely distressed. "I didn't mean for any of this to get into the press. I swear I had no idea."

You take a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm. "What happened, Jeff?"

There's a sigh on the other end of the line. "I was at a barbecue at Mark and Sarah's last night. You remember them, right? From our old neighborhood?"

"Yeah, I remember," you say, a flood of memories from your previous life washing over you.

“I hadn’t heard from them in a couple of years, but they reached out, and I thought it would be nice to reconnect. Started talking to a new guy, I’d never met him before, figured it was one of their neighbors. He seemed nice enough, we got to talking about work, hobbies, life. I had no idea he was from TMZ and definitely didn’t know he was recording our conversation,” anger bleeds through the tail end of his explanation.

You sigh. You have no reason to doubt his story. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? No, I’m sorry! I was stupid saying anything to a stranger, and more stupid for even going to the party at all.”

“What? No, Jeff, I’m sorry because a choice I made is impacting your life. It’s not fair that you’re getting targeted by press, especially tabloids.”

Jeff is silent for a beat, and then he says. “He paid Mark and Sarah to get access to me.”

Your heart feels sick. “How did you-?”

“Lawyers from your campaign called me an hour and a half ago when TMZ put it up online to question me, they called back twenty minutes later with confirmation of the money trail.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again - because you are, and because you don’t know what else to say.

Jeff sighs heavily on the other end of the line. "Stop apologizing," he says, his voice soft but serious in his directive. "This isn't your fault."

You lean against the window, watching the clouds drift by below, a stark contrast to the turmoil you feel inside. "But it kind of is, Jeff. The press is only interested in you because we were married."

"That doesn't make it your fault," he insists. "The fact that some tabloid vultures want to profit off our past relationship isn't on you."

There's a moment of silence on the line, filled only by the faint hum of the plane's engines. You can feel Steve's presence behind you, a silent sentinel.

"You okay?" you ask finally.

"I'm... I'm mad. And disappointed - in myself and in them. I feel like an idiot. I should’ve known it was a weird time for them to reach out after not seeing them for so long."

"Jeff, you couldn't have known that. You assumed good intentions. It’s part of what makes you who you are.”

The words came so easily out of your mouth, but once they’ve been said, your chest aches, and part of you wishes you could take them back.

You don’t know what he’s thinking on the other end, but you know it can’t be easy for him either, because he only manages a small, “Thanks,” and then there’s another pregnant pause between you.

Jeff clears his throat, breaking the silence. "Did I mess anything up for the campaign? I know how important this is, and I'd hate to think I've caused any problems."

You shake your head, even though he can't see you. "No, Jeff. If anything, your comments were probably the best-case scenario. You were kind and respectful. It's hard for anyone to spin that negatively.”

There's a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "Well, I guess all those years of you drilling the importance of tact into me finally paid off, huh?"

You can't help but smile. "You never needed me for that."

"You know," Jeff says, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "it's kind of amazing to see you in action like this. I mean, I always knew you were capable of great things, but if this works out, I can’t wait to see what you do in action as First Lady.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” you reply, a lump rising in your throat. “Listen, I better go.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he says. “Take care.”

“And you,” you reply. “Bye.”

You hang up the call, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring out the window at the clouds below. The weight of the conversation, of the past and present colliding, settles heavily on your shoulders.

Finally, you turn to face Steve. He's leaning against the cabin wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. The silence between you is thick with unspoken questions and emotions.

“You heard all of that, right?” you ask, knowing some of his senses are enhanced through the super soldier serum that changed his body eighty years ago.

He nods.

You sigh and take a seat on the arm rest of one of the chairs, no longer wanting to stand, but not wanting to be fully seated while he’s still standing. “I thought you knew about Jeff. It’s in my file.”

One of the first things meetings for you joining the campaign had been to sit down with Jake, the head of the campaign, Elsa the communications director, and your assistant Sophia, to review the opposition research file that had been compiled for you - everything that an opponent could potentially try to dig up from your past and attempt to attack you or the campaign with. Your marriage to Jeff had been part of that.

Steve's jaw clenches, and he looks away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I... I never read your file," he admits, his voice low and tinged with regret.

You had suspected as much given how he reacted to learning about Jeff, but the confession still hits you like a wave, leaving you momentarily speechless. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirls within you - surprise, confusion, a hint of hurt, and something else you can't quite name. The plane's engines hum in the background, filling the silence between you.

You study Steve's face, taking in the furrowed brow, the slight downturn of his lips. His blue eyes, usually so clear and determined, now hold a mix of guilt and uncertainty. It's a vulnerability you've rarely seen in him, and it catches you off guard.

"You never read it?" you question, your voice barely above a whisper. The implications of his admission begin to unfold in your mind, and it feels like pulling on a thread, unravelling a piece of what you thought had developed between you.”Why?”

"I trusted Pepper," he says softly.

The cabin suddenly feels smaller, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, there's a sharp knock on the cabin door.

“Come in,” Steve calls out.

The door swings open, revealing Bucky. His expression is a mix of concern and frustration as he strides into the cabin, a thick manila folder clutched in his metal hand. The soft whirring of the arm's plates adjusting is audible in the tense silence.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Bucky says, his voice a low growl as he thrusts the folder at Steve. "I can't believe you never read this."

Steve takes the folder, his fingers curling around the edges. The weight of it seems to surprise him, and he glances down at it with a furrowed brow. "Buck, I-"

"Save it," Bucky cuts him off, running a hand through his long hair in exasperation and then turning to address you. "I just found out before you made your call that this punk never bothered to look at your file. I’m sorry, I didn’t raise him to be so inconsiderate.”

Steve scoffs, “Raise me? You’re only one year older than me!”

In other circumstances, you would laugh at this exchange, but in this moment you can’t, your mind absorbing each new and shifting moment.

Bucky rounds back on his best friend. “I read it, Steve. I read every damn page because I wanted to make sure you weren't getting played or walking into a situation you’d regret. But you? You just went along with it, no questions asked?"

Steve's jaw clenches, his grip on the folder tightening. "I trusted Pepper's judgment. She wouldn't put someone in this position if she didn't think they were right for it."

"Right for what?" Bucky challenges. "The campaign? Or you?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. You feel your heart rate quicken, very aware of your presence in this conversation about you.

Steve's eyes flick to you for a moment before returning to Bucky. "Both," he says quietly.

Bucky shakes his head, looks at you and gives barely a quarter of a smile - seemingly all he can manage, and then leaves the two of you alone again.

Steve's eyes meet yours, a mix of emotions swirling in their blue depths. "I trusted Pepper," he says softly, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "When she told me about you, about this arrangement, I didn't want to reduce you to a file full of facts and figures. I wanted to get to know you as a person, not as a dossier."

He strides further into the cabin and takes a seat across from you. "I thought it would be more... genuine that way. To learn about you through our interactions, through the campaign, through..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

“It has been. Even if we got a slow start.” Both of you know you had taken turns keeping your guards up at various points over the past four months. You slip down properly into your seat.

“We’ve been talking more with each other, about each other, though, so I have to ask… Is there a reason you’ve never brought up your divorce?”

You clasp your hands in your lap, but you continue to hold his gaze, even though your heart constricts painfully. “Aside from thinking you did know about him, it didn’t naturally come up, and I wasn’t eager to just drop one of the most painful pieces of my past into our conversations because it wasn’t a divorce.”

Steve’s brow furrows even more. It’s no wonder the man has developed so many worry lines.

“I was smitten from the moment I met him, and he loved me back the way you grow up dreaming about your future husband - only it was even better because it was real. Everything about it was so normal and real. We dated, we got married, he finished his residency and joined a good family practice. We bought a house. We stayed up late watching stupid movies or playing games or going to concerts on the weekends or just talking on the weekends. We started talking babies.”

You pause and look away.

“And then?”

You look back to Steve, and, eyes burning with tears you don’t want to cry, you say, “I didn’t exist for five years and he did.”

His face falls immediately.

You press on because this is like pressing on a wound when the skin has healed but the muscles are still sore beneath the surface.

“I reappeared in a house Jeff had sold. He was my first call, of course, and he still had the same number. He picked me upHe’d just been remarried for about a year, and they were four months along expecting their first child.”

You pause, letting the weight of your words settle in the cabin. Steve's face is a mix of shock and sympathy, his blue eyes wide as he processes what you've just revealed.

“It’s something like thirty percent of couples who were married before The Blip who have had to file for this new legal classification to end a marriage. They call it a cessation. An annulment legally voids a marriage as if it never happened, and divorce is too commonly associated with a negative ending, ergo new procedure and new language.”

Steve's face crumples with understanding and sympathy. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. "I'm so sorry," he says softly. "I had no idea."

You nod, blinking back tears. "It's okay. I mean, it's not okay, but... it's been a few years now. I've had time to process it."

Steve's eyes search your face. "But it still hurts."

You let out a shaky breath. "It was surreal. Like waking up from a dream, only to find that the nightmare was real. Jeff was devastated too, in his own way. He'd mourned me, moved on, built a new life. And then suddenly I was back, throwing everything into chaos. We both knew we couldn't just pick up where we left off, but it was hard to let go of what we'd had."

Steve nods slowly, his eyes never leaving your face. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like for both of you."

"It was complicated," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "We tried to be friends at first, but it was too painful. Too many memories, too much history. Eventually, we decided it was best to go our separate ways."

Steve reaches out hesitantly, his hand hovering near yours before he pulls it back. "That must have been incredibly difficult," he says softly.

You nod, swallowing hard. "It was. For a while, I felt like I was just going through the motions. Everything I had known, everything I had planned for my future, was gone in an instant."

"How did you move forward?" Steve asks, his voice gentle.

You take a deep breath. "Slowly. Day by day. I threw myself into work, into causes I cared about. I reconnected with old friends who had also returned, made new ones. And eventually," you pause, meeting Steve's eyes, "I started to feel like myself again.”

Steve nods, his eyes filled with understanding. "It's amazing how resilient we can be," he says softly. "How we can rebuild our lives from the ashes."

You smile faintly. "It's not always easy, but we find a way."

You can see how - though your experiences had been vastly different - you had each had to piece lives back together through loss and being pushed through time in ways you never could have dreamed.

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the steady hum of the plane's engines. Outside the window, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink. The clouds below are bathed in golden light, creating an ethereal landscape that seems to stretch on forever.

Steve's gaze follows yours to the window, and for a moment, you both just watch the breathtaking view. When he turns back to you, his expression is thoughtful, almost hesitant.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, his voice low.

You nod, bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I know this might be presumptuous of me to ask, but you'll always love Jeff, won't you?"

You take in his earnest expression, the way his brow is slightly furrowed with concern. The cabin feels both impossibly small and infinitely vast in this moment, like you're suspended in time and space, just the two of you existing in this bubble of honesty. You consider Steve's question, feeling the weight of your history with Jeff, the joy and the pain, the love and the loss.

"Love is... complicated," you begin, your voice soft but steady. "Jeff was my first real love - the love that weathers storms kind of love. For a long time, he was my whole world. But the world changed. We both changed. And while there will always be a part of me that cares deeply for Jeff, that cherishes the memories we shared and the life we built together, it's more like..." you pause, searching for the right words.

"It's like loving a chapter of a book that's already been written?” Steve offers.

You nod, and your mind clicks, putting together that the two of you share this understanding, too.

You have Jeff and he had Peggy Carter.

“You can look back on it fondly, appreciate the story,” he continues, “but you can never go back.”

"Exactly," you say softly, meeting Steve's gaze. "It's a part of my past that shaped me, but it's not my present or my future."

Steve nods, his blue eyes filled with far too much understanding. "I know that feeling," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of shared experiences hanging between you. The fading sunlight casts long shadows across the cabin, painting everything in warm, golden hues.

"Steve," you begin, your heart racing slightly, "I hope you know that despite how this arrangement started, I've come to care about you. Genuinely."

His eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and something else—hope, maybe—flickering across his face. "I care about you too," he says, his voice low and earnest, and he looks like he wants to say more, but you cut him off, knowing you need to say what’s been slowly rising to the surface in the back of your mind while the two of you have been alone in here.

“Steve, we have to tell the senior staff of the campaign about our arranged marriage. I don’t know if we go public, but we need to bring them in so it doesn’t get discovered by someone else and revealed in a blindside that no one is ready for. They were already pretty thrown off that you didn’t know about Jeff, and that’s something two people who actually dated - for any amount of time - would have known about each other before tying the knot, and we have got to be kidding ourselves if we think there aren’t other pieces that they think don’t quite fit together.”

Steve leans back fully in his seat and drops his head back, looking at the ceiling. “What, like how we didn’t sit together much before a few weeks ago? Them potentially overhearing any of our conversations where we’re clearly getting to know each other? Or, you know, not sharing a room the nights we stay in the same city and bouncing between the excuses of it being easier so we don’t wake the other one up if one of us has an earlier call time, one of us being too light of a sleeper, or that I don’t sleep as much with being a super soldier and don’t want to keep you up while I take phone calls or strategy meetings?”

You grimace. “Obviously Bucky and Sam know, but the only way the rest of them don’t already know is if they are far too busy doing their jobs from before dawn until after midnight and don’t specifically speak to anyone else on the campaign about the odd things that might raise a flag.”

Steve sighs heavily, running a hand over his beard. "You're right," he admits, his voice tinged with resignation. "We can't keep this up forever. The longer we wait, the worse it could be if it comes out."

You nod, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. "So, how do you want to do this? Call a meeting when we land in Miami?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, we need to do it now."

You raise an eyebrow. "Now? As in, on the plane?"

"Why not?" Steve says, a hint of determination creeping into his voice. "We've got the whole senior staff here. It's a controlled environment. No risk of being overheard by the wrong people."

“We should tell Jake first,” you say, standing up and smoothing down your clothes. "As campaign manager, we owe him the courtesy of finding out before the rest of the staff since he is their leader. Then we can work with him to figure out how to tell the rest of the senior staff and map strategy."

Steve nods in agreement, standing up as well. "You're right. Jake should know first." He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Ready?"

You give a short nod, your heart racing.

Steve reaches for the cabin door, but pauses with his hand on the handle. He turns back to you, his blue eyes intense. "Whatever happens, we're in this together, okay?"

"Together," you agree softly, though there’s a piece of you that wonders how you ever thought any of this would truly work.

With that, Steve opens the door and you both step out into the main cabin. The staff members look up as you enter, curiosity and concern evident on their faces. You spot Jake near the front, poring over some documents.

"Jake," Steve calls out, his voice steady and authoritative. "We need to speak with you privately.”

Bucky glances glances at you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You give him a small nod, and he seems to understand, settling back in his seat. Steve is already stepping back into the private cabin, Jake heading toward you, but your gaze lingers on Bucky for another moment. You never thought you would be at a point where Bucky would be supportive of your arranged marriage, let alone getting after Steve and siding with you on how things were between you.

As the three of you enter the private cabin, Jake's eyes flick between you and Steve, his expression carefully neutral. The air feels thick with tension as Steve closes the door behind you, sealing off the curious gazes of the staff outside.

Jake takes a seat, his posture relaxed but attentive. The setting sun casts long shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of experience etched there. You and Steve remain standing, unconsciously positioning yourselves as a united front.

Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle. "Jake, there's something we need to tell you about our relationship," he begins, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of tension. "The story about our whirlwind engagement... it's not entirely accurate."

Jake's expression remains impassive, his eyes moving between you and Steve as he listens.

Steve’s eyes meet your breifly before he continues. "Pepper did set us up, but it wasn't a typical matchmaking situation. It was... an arrangement."

The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Jake's expression remains unreadable, his eyes fixed on Steve.

"An arrangement," Steve repeats, his voice low and steady, "specifically designed to provide me with a wife who could potentially serve as First Lady. We met for the first time the day we got married. Everything since then - the public appearances, the interviews, the campaign trail - it's all been part of a carefully constructed narrative."

As Steve speaks, you find yourself transported back to those first awkward days. The stilted conversations, the hesitant touches, the constant awareness of the cameras and the expectations weighing on both of your shoulders.

You watch Jake carefully, searching for any sign of surprise or disappointment, but his years of political experience have clearly honed his ability to maintain a poker face. His fingers are steepled under his chin, his eyes never leaving Steve's face as he absorbs every word.

Steve's voice grows softer as he delves into the more personal aspects of your arrangement - the initial awkwardness, the gradual building of trust, the unexpected bond that has formed between you. You feel a lump forming in your throat as you listen to him describe your journey, realizing just how far you've come.

When Steve finally gets to the end, not going into details, but going right through pieces of the conversation you had about the misunderstanding with Jeff, not reading your dossier, and then talking through it together, both of you are quiet, waiting for Jake to process and respond.

He leans back in his seat, the leather creaking softly under his weight. For a moment, he simply looks at you both, his gaze moving between you and Steve with an unreadable intensity.

Then, to your utter astonishment, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I know," he says quietly.

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Your jaw drops, your mind reeling from this revelation, and you can see Steve's eyes wide in surprise. The cabin suddenly feels smaller, more claustrophobic, as if the walls are closing in around you.

"You know?" Steve manages to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jake leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, that small smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "I've known from the beginning," he says, his voice low and steady. "In fact, I was the one who insisted on it."

Jake continues, his eyes moving between you and Steve. "When Pepper approached me about running this campaign, I knew it would be unlike anything we've ever seen before. A man out of time, a living legend, running for the highest office in the land." He pauses, his gaze settling on Steve. "I’ve made political miracles happen. I’ve done it many times in my career. But I knew I couldn’t make multiple miracles happen. Someone with a name but without much political background? Yes. A third party candidate? Yes. An unmarried man? Yes. All three? Not taking that chance. I told her I’d only take the campaign if she got you married off.”

You blink, no words coming to you. Steve huffs and widens his stance, putting his hands on his hips. His jaw clenches as he processes Jake's words. "So this whole thing... it was your idea?"

Jake nods, his expression serious. "Not the specifics, mind you. I didn't choose who you'd marry or how it would happen. I just laid out the necessity of it. Pepper handled the rest."

You find your voice, though it comes out quieter than you intended. "Why didn't you tell us you knew?"

"I wanted to see how you two would handle it. How you'd work together, how you'd present yourselves to the public and the staff. I needed to know if this arrangement could work, if you could sell it convincingly enough."

Steve's posture stiffens, his voice taking on an edge. "So we've been what, some kind of experiment to you?”

Jake holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Not an experiment, Steve. A necessary political strategy. And I have to say, you've both exceeded my expectations."

You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you - relief that Jake already knew, frustration at being kept in the dark, and a strange sense of pride at his last statement. "How have we exceeded your expectations?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Jake leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "At first, I was worried. You two were clearly uncomfortable around each other, and it showed. But over time, something changed. You started to gel, to work as a unit. The way you interact now, the little touches, the shared glances - it's become genuine."

Steve's posture relaxes slightly, but his voice is still tense when he speaks. "So what happens now? Do we tell the rest of the staff? The rest of America?”

Jake shakes his head, his expression turning serious. "In an ideal world, yes. But this isn't an ideal world. This is politics. And in politics, sometimes the truth can be more damaging than a carefully crafted narrative."

Steve's jaw clenches again, his discomfort with the situation evident. "I don't like lying to the American people," he says, his voice low.

Jake stands up, moving to face both of you directly. "It's not lying, Steve. It's... selective truth-telling. You two are married. It all moved really quickly. What started as an arrangement has become something more. And that's what we'll continue to present to the world - a strong partnership, a united front."

You feel a mix of relief and unease at his words. "But what about transparency? Isn't that what this campaign is supposed to be about?"

Jake raises an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. "Transparency in governance, yes. But the intimate details of your personal life? Why should those be public knowledge if the broad strokes are there?"

He moves to the window, gazing out at the fading sunset.

"Look," Jake continues, his voice taking on a gentler tone, "nearly half of all marriages in America end in divorce. People change, circumstances change. What matters is how couples work through those changes together."

He turns back to face you and Steve, his eyes moving between you. "And let's not forget, arranged marriages are still a reality for many families in America. Immigrants from cultures where it's common, religious communities that practice it. The fact that you two have made it work, have grown together - that's actually a powerful narrative in itself."

You and Steve exchange a glance, both processing Jake's words. There's truth in what he's saying, even if it feels uncomfortable.

"So what do we tell the rest of the staff?" you ask, breaking the silence.

Jake considers for a moment. "Essential personnel only - so the directors and your right hands, though I imagine Bucky and Sam already know?” Steve nods and Jake continues. “We tell them the basics. That your relationship started unconventionally, that it was initially more of an arrangement than a romance. But we emphasize how you've grown together, how you've become a true partnership. We focus on the present and the future, not the past."

Steve nods slowly, his brow furrowed in thought. "And the public?"

"For now, nothing changes," Jake says firmly. "We continue with the narrative we've established. If questions arise, we address them honestly but carefully. We emphasize the same message. If people want to fight that, we point out a willingness to sacrifice, an ability to build meaningful relationships, there are a lot of ways we can go with it.”

You and Steve exchange a long look, a silent conversation passing between you. You have reservations, and so does he, but what Jake is saying makes the most sense. At least for now.

Steve takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I understand the strategy," he says, his voice low and steady. "And I agree that we shouldn't disrupt the campaign or put unnecessary pressure on our relationship by going public with every detail."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "I agree," you say softly. "What we have... It's complicated and it's evolving, but it's ours.”

“Good,” Jake says. Then his expression shifts, an eagerness in his eyes. "Now that we've cleared the air, I have some news for you," he says, his voice taking on a tone of barely contained enthusiasm.

You and Steve exchange a curious glance, the tension from your previous conversation slowly dissipating.

"Elsa and her team have been working on getting a high-profile interview scheduled for the two of you?" Jake begins, pacing the small cabin with an energy that seems to electrify the air around him.

Steve nods, his brow furrowing slightly. "Yes, I remember you mentioning it a few days ago."

Jake's face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes sparkling with triumph. "Well, I'm pleased to announce that we've secured what might just be the most coveted interview slot in America."

[SEPTEMBER 28 - EVENING DRIVE FROM THE RALLY BACK TO THE MIAMI AIRPORT]

“I don’t like it,” Steve says as soon as the partition between the front and back of the SUV has closed and your privacy is in place. He had also quickly jumped in the vehicle after you and shut the door to prevent anyone else joining you on the way to the airport.

You let out as small of an exasperated sigh as you can manage.

“Like it or not, it’s what’s happening,” you respond.

The the ninety-minute flight time from Athens to Miami (thanks to an airliner boosted with Stark technology) had not been enough time to tell the senior staff about your marriage, do the final logistics review for Miami, and discuss a potential strategy adjustment for the coming days given the revelation about your marriage and the ramp up to the game-changing interview coming up, so while Steve had been on stage, you had been finalizing the itinerary with Jake, Elsa, Bucky, and Pepper, who weighed in over the phone.

“I don’t think it’s the right time for you to head off to the other side of the country.”

You frown at him. “Steve, we all signed off on this plan two days ago! Zoey and I are expected to show up for this string of women-targeted events from San Diego to Seattle, and it would be horrible to cancel now.”

Steve opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Plus, Helen Santos has agreed to appear at some of those stops with us. This will be huge for the women’s vote on the West Coast.”

Steve's jaw clenches and the breaks between Miami streetlights cast intermittent shadows across his face. "I understand the political value," he says, his voice low and tense. "But after everything that's happened today, I don't think we should be apart right now."

You feel a mix of frustration and warmth in your chest at his concern. "Steve," you say, your voice softer now, "we can't change our entire campaign strategy every time something unexpected happens. That's not how this works."

“Isn’t it?” he asks. "We adjust strategy every day, and this isn't just 'something unexpected.' This is about us, about our relationship. We just told the senior staff about our arrangement. Don't you think we need some time to process that together?"

You lean back in your seat, considering his words. "I get it. Today has been intense for us both. But the West Coast tour has been planned and the advance teams have been preparing everything and rallying people to come. We’ve spent money on ad buys and billboards. Canceling now would raise more questions than we want to deal with."

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his beard. "I know you're right. I just... I worry about you being so far away, especially now."

"Maybe this is exactly what we need right now," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve's brow furrows, his blue eyes searching your face. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "Think about it, Steve. Since this whole thing started, we've been living this performance, day in and day out, sometimes together, sometimes apart. You got talked into marrying me, Sam had to lecture you and Bucky to start giving me a real chance,” Steve opens his mouth but you put up a hand, “I overheard him in Cleveland. And, yes, ultimately it was good for us to talk about Jeff today, but it has me thinking about a lot of things.”

“Like what?” he asks earnestly, reaching for your hand.

You look down and squeeze it in return.

"Like why I agreed to this in the first place," you say softly. "When Pepper approached me with this idea, part of me thought it was crazy. But another part... another part of me saw it as an opportunity."

Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, encouraging you to continue.

"After Jeff, after losing everything I had built and dreamed of I was terrified of caring that deeply again. Of investing so much of myself in another person, only to have it all ripped away." Your voice catches slightly, and you swallow hard before continuing. "This arrangement it felt safe, in a way. Detached. A way to move forward without risking my heart again.

“I knew you were a good guy, Steve. One of the best. Everyone knows that. Captain America, the hero who sacrificed everything to save the world. I wasn't worried about an arranged marriage with you because I knew it would be good companionship, doing important work for others. We'd be partners in a noble cause, working to make the world better."

You pause, looking out the window at the Miami streets passing by, the neon lights of the city blurring into streaks of color. When you turn back to Steve, his blue eyes are fixed on you, intense and attentive.

"But then something changed," you continue, your voice soft. "You started to open up, to let me see beyond the shield, beyond the legend. I saw your kindness, your humor, your vulnerability. The way you care so deeply about everything and everyone around you. But I don’t want either of us getting swept up into something just because we’re in this weird life that is the campaign where every minute is compressed and there are scores people around us in addition to the thousands of people we’re meeting every day and a hundred reporters and falling into each other would just be too easy while we play these parts.”

You leave off there, your heart pounding, unsure of what to say next, but sure that you said what you needed to say, even if you don’t know what is means even in your own mind and heart yet. But you know the thoughts and feelings are there.

“Where does that leave us then?” Steve questions after a few moments. “I don’t want us to take a step back.”

Your throat aches yet again with tears that want to come but that you don’t want to shed. “I don’t either,” you finally say. “I don’t feel like it’s a step back, maybe just a step sideways, needing to find more secure footing.”

The electric sound of the partition lowering a few inches interrupts the two of you.

“Captain and Mrs. Rogers, we’re about three minutes out from the airport,” the driver says, and Steve thanks him as he rolls the partition back up.

“It’s only a week,” you reassure him.

Steve sighs. “The whole point of schedule this split in our appearances together precisely at this point was to get the public primed in the idea that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’” he says. “Maybe it’ll work for us.”

You don’t need to grow fonder of him. “Maybe it will clear our hearts more than anything.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he says. Then he turns and looks out the window on his side.

You continue holding hands the last few minutes, but sit in silence.

[SEPTEMBER 28 - LATE EVENING - MIAMI AIRPORT]

The campaign staff swarms around you and Steve as soon as you exit the SUV. The private hangar buzzes with activity as luggage is loaded and last-minute preparations are made. You feel a twinge of anxiety as you realize this is where you and Steve will part ways for the next week.

"Mrs. Rogers, your flight to San Diego is on schedule. Wheels up in 30 minutes," Sophia, your assistant, informs you as she hands you a folder. "I've updated your briefing materials for tomorrow's events."

You nod, taking the folder and trying to focus on Sophia's words even as your mind lingers on the conversation with Steve in the car. The weight of your discussion, of the revelations and uncertainties, sits heavy in your chest.

As Sophia briefs you on the details, you can't help but glance over at Steve. He's surrounded by his own team, nodding seriously as they discuss something. His eyes meet yours for a moment, and you feel a jolt of electricity pass between you. There's so much left unsaid, so many emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

"Mrs. Rogers?" Sophia's voice snaps you back to attention. "Did you hear what I said about the event with Zoey Young and Helen Santos tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm sorry, Sophia. Could you repeat that?" you ask, forcing yourself to focus.

As Sophia goes over the details again, you see Steve making his way over to you. Your heart rate picks up slightly as he approaches.

"Can I have a moment?" he asks, his voice low.

Sophia nods and steps away, giving you some privacy. You turn to face Steve, acutely aware of the bustling activity around you.

"I just wanted to say," Steve begins, then pauses, running a hand through his hair. "Be safe out there, okay? And if you need anything…”

“You, too,” you offer back.

Bucky approaches out of nowhere, “Sorry, wheels up in ten for us, Steve, but you can take a few more minutes if you sprint to the plane.”

Bucky squeezes your shoulder briefly. “You take care.”

You nod and smile as warmly as you can.

Alone in the sea of people again, you and Steve stall to savor a few final moments, but the uncertainty of how you’ll part is palpable.

“I meant what I said in the car about not wanting it to be a step back for us either,” you start. “I thought I’d have Sophia connect with Bucky about finding thirty minutes a day in our schedules for us to jump on a call together.”

“I think that sounds good,” Steve agrees.

Quiet falls between you two again. Your heart beats hard in your chest because now that it’s time for you to split up and board two separate planes and it was you who insisted it’s what you needed, in the final moments part of you is wavering.

Then Steve moves half a step closer and takes both of your hands in his. His touch is warm, familiar, and you feel a flutter in your chest as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that makes the bustling airport hangar fade away.

"Before you go," Steve says, his voice low and urgent, "there's something I need you to know."

You nod, your heart continuing to pound in your chest, the nearness of him both comforting and electrifying.

"I know Pepper told you I was reluctant to agree to this. She had an easier time convincing me to run than to get married. But the logical points checked out, and since I was already in, I knew I had to be all in, and I trusted Pep.”

You remember your own early conversations with Pepper, the careful way she had explained Steve's hesitation. At the time, you had assumed it was about understanding that Steve needed to become a more conventional candidate with marriage helping that.

Steve's eyes search yours, his voice softening as he continues, "But I gave her that trust because she agreed to make her choice based on the one condition I wanted her to agree to: pick someone she could see me marrying if I weren't running for President. That’s the real reason I never read your file."

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you.

"When I first met you," Steve says, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the backs of your hands, "I understood why Pepper chose you. You were kind, intelligent, passionate about making a difference. But I was still guarded, still unsure about this whole arrangement."

He takes a deep breath, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "As I got to know you, as we spent time together, I questioned myself, not knowing how to move forward since I’d faltered in the beginning, but then we started to really make something of this. I don’t know what this is yet or what will happen to us, but I think it’s something good.”

“Steve, I-”

He leans in and kisses your cheek, lingering, and your eyes flutter closed in that moment. You inhale the mix of his cologne with his natural scent, feel the warmth of his cheek against yours, the light scratch of his beard, and you want time to stop right there.

When he pulls back, there’s a serene smile on his face. “I’ll see you in Brooklyn, Mrs. Rogers.”

next part: coming 12/6

Before anyone gets carried away: THERE WILL NOT BE ANY ROMANTIC OR LUSTFUL CHAOS WITH BUCKY. Purely platonic. But now that you're one of his people, you're one of his people, and he's disappointed/annoyed with Steve, so he's in your corner on this day.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[arthurhillmastermind]

George Clarke replied to your story.

2,172 words. Green circle. Red Circle. what’s the difference?

It all started a few weeks ago when George had posted a random Instagram Story asking fans to add him to their close friends lists so he could rank them for a YouTube video—“best, funniest, cringiest, whatever,” he’d promised with that ridiculous smile. Your group chat had of course collectively lost their minds.

“Oh my God, we have to do this,” someone had declared, already tagging him in a story.

You’d rolled your eyes at first. Sure, George was funny, creative, and admittedly attractive, but you weren’t about to feed his ego by crafting some elaborate story just for his amusement. Still, in the chaos of everyone else freaking out, you’d ended up adding him anyway. Not to make the cut for his video—you didn’t post anything remotely funny or interesting enough—but just to shut the groupchat up. And honestly, you forgot to remove him after.

Then came the thirst trap.

It wasn’t even planned. You’d been bored, playing around with some poses, when your friends dared you to post something from the many photos you’d sent them, a simple selfie where the light hits your face and hair in the perfect way, just to mess with people. It had been a joke, like everything else on your close friends, and you’d captioned it, “This one’s for just you ;)” to really sell the bit.

No one actually expected him to see it.

But George Clarke, the man with an unbelievably high screen time, saw everything. The notification came in mere minutes after you posted it. GeorgeClarkeey replied to your story

“Me?” one word. That was all it took.

“Girls” You typed very quickly

Cue the group chat imploding.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” your friend types back know the message “Girls” meant something had happened.

“George replied to my story”

“HE WHAT?”

“He’s going to think it’s serious.”

“Can we talk about how he responded in record time???”

“He’s going to make this a thing. I feel it in my soul.”

The replies came in at record speed. Sure enough, George wasn’t done yet.

Another message popped up while you were still processing the first: “Wait. That was for me, right? Like… actually?”

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. What the hell was going on? George Clarke had a talent for this shit, and now you were directly in the middle of it. Of course it wasn’t specifically for him. It was a joke, a dumb joke fueled by group chat dares and late-night boredom. But now George Clarke was in your DMs, actually engaging, and you had no idea how to navigate this.

You sat down on your bed , unlocking your phone to stare at his messages through your notifications like they might explode if you opened them. What the hell were you supposed to say to that?

“Me?”

“Wait. That was for me, right? Like… actually?”

It wasn’t for him. Not really. But at the same time, it wasn’t not for him, and there was no universe in which you could explain that without sounding ridiculous.

Your phone buzzed again.

“Take your time, I’ll just sit here wondering 😏.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just scroll past like a normal person? Better yet, why did you still have him on your close friends list in the first place?

The group chat, of course, was zero help.

“Just say it was for him. What’s the harm?”

“Tell him it’s a metaphor. Keep him guessing.”

“Confess your undying love and ask him to follow while you’re at it.”

You sighed, finally flopping onto your bed and opening the messages.

“What if it was?” you typed, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach. What had you just done? Before you could spiral too deeply into regret over your reply, another notification popped up on your screen.

GeorgeClarkey started following you.

You froze. What the actual fuck was going on? Was this some elaborate joke for his video? Was he about to screenshot your profile and blast you to his friends and his followers as part of his next roast video?

Panic set in almost immediately. You scrambled to your profile, fingers flying as you opened your highlights. What did I even have on there? Your close friends was one thing, but your highlights were public.

The first highlight was fine. A sunset. Very normal. The second was a random dog you’d seen on a walk. Also fine. The third? Oh God, the third. A blurry photo of your face captioned, “Why am I like this?”

You cringed, hitting the delete button, but before you could delete anything else, another notification lit up your phone.

GeorgeClarkey replied to your story:

“Ok but… jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?”

Your group chat exploded before you could even blink.

“HE FOLLOWED YOU?!”

“Shut up. He did not.”

“Bestie, you’re famous now.”

“Oh my God he did! i checked his profile! Did he post anything? Has he said anything else?”

You ignored them, heart pounding as you stared at the notification. This couldn’t be real. George Clarke, internet golden boy who had every teenage girl in a chokehold, was actually engaging with you.

What the hell were you going to do?

You stared at George’s message, your mind racing: “Ok but…jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?”

Before you could fully process it, your fingers moved almost instinctively, opening the group chat. You switched to voice notes because typing just wasn’t fast enough to convey the absolute thoughts in your head.

“Guys,” you hissed into the mic, pacing your room. “What the actual fuck is going on? George Clarke just messaged me again. AGAIN. And he said—wait, no, let me read this. He said, ‘Ok but… jokes aside be honest. Is this about me?’”

You paused, pacing more furiously as all your friends started typing back.

“I don’t know what to say!” you continued in the next voice note, your voice slightly higher now. “Like, do I admit it? Do I deny it? Do I block him and change my name? HELP ME.”

The replies came in almost instantly:

“Post the screenshot right now.”

“Oh my God, you’re in a rom-com.”

“Say it was about him and see what happens. Do it for the plot.”

“Voice note us back with the drama or don’t bother replying at all.”

You rolled your eyes, even as you hit record again.

“Okay, fine. I’ll reply. But if this ends with me being clowned in one of his videos, you’re all accomplices.”

With one final deep breath, you typed out:

“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. What’s it to you?”

Your thumb hovered for a second, but then you hit send, immediately regretting it as your phone buzzed with another notification.

“Oh, it’s something to me. 😉”

You groaned, sending yet another voice note to the group chat.

“I AM GOING TO SCREAM. He just said it’s ‘something to him.’ WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?”

Your friends weren’t helping, their replies now a chaotic mix of screaming voice notes and unhinged texts.

“He’s into you, bestie.”

“We’re living for this. Keep us updated.”

“I’m adding popcorn to my grocery list.”

Whatever George was playing at, it was… kind of fun.

You stared at his message: “Oh, it’s something to me. 😉”

Your heart thudded as you typed out a response, fingers moving on autopilot: “How come?”

For a second, you debated deleting it. Was that too straightforward? Too bold? But before you could overthink it, the message was already sent.

The group chat was on fire.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY???”

“Tell me you asked him why. PLEASE.”

“I’m pacing my room like it’s my drama, what is happening???”

You sent a quick voice note: “I asked him how come. Like, if he’s going to be cryptic, I’m making him work for it. I can’t just let him drop a winky face and get away with it.”

Your phone buzzed before the group could reply. Another message from George.

“Because now I’m curious. Was it really for me?”

You blinked at your screen. Curious? Curious?! Why did he have to phrase it like that? Like this wasn’t a throwaway Instagram post but some grand mystery he needed to solve.

You hit record on another voice note.

“GUYS. He said he’s curious. What the hell does that mean?!” you whispered furiously. “I’m spiraling. Do I double down? Do I back out? Help.”

The replies were just as unhinged as before.

“Double down. Always double down.”

“Tell him it’s his fault for making you curious too.”

“Can we just talk about how into this he clearly is? Like, bestie, he’s invested.”

You shook your head, biting your lip as you typed your next message.

“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But now I’m curious—what if it was?”

Your thumb hovered for a moment before you hit send, already bracing for whatever chaos George Clarke was about to unleash next.

The notification popped up almost immediately:

GeorgeClarkey: “Well, if it wasn’t, how come I’m on your close friends and none of my friends are?”

Your jaw dropped. Oh, he was good. Too good. George Clarke wasn’t just playing along—he was winning.

You immediately switched to the group chat, hitting record on a voice note.

“Guys. He’s onto me. He said—and I quote—‘How come I’m on your close friends and none of my friends are?’” You paused, your voice rising in pitch. “WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT?”

The group chat blew up in record time.

“HE SAID WHAT?!”

“Oh my God, this man is flirting.”

“Deflect. Blame it on the algorithm. Lie if you have to.”

“No, no, you need to hit him back with something. Don’t let him win!”

You sent another voice note, pacing your room as you spoke.

“I don’t even know why he’s still on my close friends! It’s not like I planned this—he asked to be added for that stupid video, and I just forgot to take him off. But if I tell him that, he’s going to think I’m some kind of idiot who forgot George Clarke was on their list!”

One of your friends sent a voice note back, barely able to contain their laughter.

“Bestie, you are an idiot who forgot George Clarke was on their list. But now you’ve got him interested, so lean in. Own it. Say something mysterious.”

You sighed, staring at George’s message for a long moment before typing:

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Your heart was racing as you hit send, half-expecting him to call your bluff immediately. Instead, the little typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

“Don’t mind if I do. 😏”

You practically screamed, sending another voice note to the group chat.

“Guys. GUYS. He’s not just flirting. He’s doubling down. What do I do now?!”

The replies came back rapid-fire:

“Marry him.”

“This is officially fanfiction territory.”

“No, seriously, keep him on the hook. This is your moment.”

You didn’t George’s last message—“Don’t mind if I do. 😏”—because honestly, you needed a minute to think. Or maybe several. So instead of spiraling over how to respond, you stuck to your plan.

Ignoring the little red dot on his message thread, you switched to Instagram stories and posted something casual to your story: a cozy shot of your coffee on the table, framed by the warm tones of a London café from last weekend. The kind of post you always shared on quiet afternoons. You added the café’s location tag for good measure, captioning it simply: Need this.

The group chat was, of course, waiting.

“Update: just posted,” you said in a voice note, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s a café pic. Totally chill, very me. If he reacts to this, I’ll… I don’t know, scream.”

You barely had time to put your phone down before it buzzed with a new notification:

GeorgeClarkey replied to your story.

Your heart jumped as you opened it.

“Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?”

You sat there, staring at the message like it was in a foreign language. George wasn’t just reacting—he was flirting. Again.

“GUYS,” you hissed into a new voice note, pacing your room. “He replied. And get this—he said, ‘Good taste. But why didn’t you invite me?’ Like, is this man serious?!”

The chat erupted in chaos.

“Shut up, he did NOT.”

“He’s basically asking for a date. I’m calling it.”

“You better reply, right now.”

But you weren’t ready to give in that easily. Typing back too quickly would make it seem like you were waiting for him (which you definitely weren’t). So instead, you left his message on read, letting him sit with it while you debated your next move.

Another voice note: “I’m ignoring him for now. Let’s see if he doubles down.”

And honestly, you weren’t sure what thrilled you more: the fact that George Clarke had replied, or the fact that he was now waiting on you.

———————————————————————-

a/n my first george fic! there will be a part two! the formatting hasn’t worked the way it should have but i’ll work on it!

would like to thank George Clarke for seeing my close friends which then let to @pretendyoucantseeme who gave me the idea and @authortelevision for supporting the delusions. love you both😂

if you wanna be tagged in part 2 please let me know! 

[slashthrashandcrash]

I Don't Think This Was A Term In The Waiver Agreement

Just because the scare actors were allowed to touch you in this section of Hell Fest doesn't mean they're allowed to butcher your friends and leave you bound on the floor. Wait, what do you mean that's part of the fine print?

Yippee! Here's a Hell Fest fic I wrote months ago and never posted for...no reason actually lmao. God, this movie was so, so close to being perfect for us slasher x final girl fans (all 7 of us). I had to take it upon myself to give it the ending interaction it deserved.

Word Count: 6.4K

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The haze of brief unconsciousness loosened its hold on Natalie, regrettably allowing her senses to return to her one by one in the awfullest of states. Mindless bliss was first interrupted by the realization of how she struggled to breathe, her airways clogged with blood from a surely broken nose. The metallic taste lingered in the back of her throat so that even when she took deep, shuddering inhales to counteract the suffocation, all that filled her lungs was coppery air. She had to be dying, God, it sure as hell felt like she was dying.

A few more gasps helped pull Natalie further out of the void, much to her displeasure. All too quickly did she become aware of the agony that throbbed across her face in tandem with her heartbeat, radiating from her busted nose to the back of her eyes and down the roots of her teeth. Sticky blood was smeared uncomfortably over her mouth and pooled under the cheek pressed into concrete, enough so that she involuntarily coughed until she could gather enough saliva in her mouth to spit out the bitterness coating her tongue. It wasn’t until she forced her face to relax from its grimace in an attempt to ease the ache of her cheekbones did she realize how tightly she still had her eyes shut.

With as much strength as she could muster, Natalie pushed through the Herculean task of opening her eyes, almost instantly squeezing them closed again when the barest of light seeped through her lashes. She groaned, enduring the stabbing sensation in her temples as she slowly made her eyes flutter open to a squint. Her vision swam in doubles, triples, before swirling back into a single image of near blackness. For a moment, she was unsure if perhaps her eyes were still closed as there was hardly anything to see. As the darkness thankfully adjusted into something that didn’t make her want to rip her eyes from her sockets, she was able to blink away the remaining haze clouding her sight.

White blobs looking down at her sharpened back into the shape of expressionless paper mache masks, a red overhead light catching the edge of their silhouettes, tilted at a dizzying angle. Natalie would have jolted at the idea of so many people staring at her with blank expressions, but her rattled brain hadn’t quite rebooted back into working order after being knocked around her skull. Right, these weren’t real people, they were just a bunch of dummies cloaked in fabric for a cheap scare. They wouldn’t hurt her, but they wouldn’t be able to help her either.

…help her from what?

A scream echoed down one of the maze’s many corridors outside of the room Natalie was in, all but yanking her the rest of the way out of her daze and into harsh reality. Hell Fest. Her pictures. Gavin’s texts. Taylor, Quinn. The Other.

Brooke.

…

Brooke!

Like she had just been drenched in ice water, Natalie was scrambling to pull herself up off the floor. Frustratingly, her limbs refused to cooperate with her sense of fight or flight, almost as if she was piloting a body that didn’t belong to her. While the fresh shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins did wonders to clear her mind, it did little to motivate her still aching muscles into moving how she needed them to. Her headache was worsening by the second, certainly a concussion, probably some broken cartilage at least and a fractured skull at worst, but thankfully her face had settled into a more manageable buzz of pain. One less thing to worry about in the moment, even if her eyes wanted to pop from their sockets to relieve the building pressure behind them. 

Rolling from her stomach to her side very nearly caused her to gag at the sudden wave of nausea. Coagulated blood trickled down her throat at the shift in position, forcing her to roll back onto her front as she retched again to avoid choking on any potential vomit. A part of her was grateful she hadn’t eaten more of the overpriced pretzel Gavin had given her, though another part chastised her as those carbs could have been soaking up the copious amounts of alcohol still sitting in her soured stomach. Either way, she would have been stuck with the miserable feeling of needing to puke; it was simply a matter of whether it was better to not have to worry about drowning on her own blood and bile or if she would actually feel better if there was something substantial to purge.

Natalie clumsily pulled her arms up in an effort to brace them against the floor, hoping to elevate herself that way when…she came to the conclusion that she couldn’t. 

It wasn’t that her reactions were delayed by head trauma - although that still couldn’t be ruled out amongst other things - it was that there was something quite obviously preventing her from doing so. Hindsight mocked her for not realizing the predicament she was in sooner – how had it only now come to her attention that her arms were immobile from behind her back? To which she argued back that the fact she was only seventy percent sure her face hadn’t been split open by the blunt end of an ax was a perfectly valid excuse for her lack of awareness. She rolled her shoulders and tugged her arms to either side of her body once more, straining against the unseen binds that bit into the crooks of her elbows. Her hands were free, but utterly useless when they could only stretch forward enough to graze her hips.

Confusion was giving way to panic in her already heightened state of anxiety. During her incapacitation, The Other had left her tied up and helpless on the floor before presumably going off to finish his rampage. He could have killed her, he should have killed her, seeing as he had no problem before when it came to snuffing out whatever lives were unfortunately caught in his grasp. 

But not with Natalie. 

No, he seemed to take sick pleasure in drawing their game of cat and mouse out for as long as possible, like he was teasing her with the chance she’d ever be able to win. Ax in hand, Natalie sprawled on the floor, it would have been too easy to declare himself the winner by spilling her brains.

Instead, he left her, bleeding and unconscious, yet ultimately alive. Bound, so that she couldn’t go anywhere before he returned, because he would be coming back for her once he had taken care of Brooke’s loose end. Was he saving Natalie’s death for last, his final prize of the night? Did The Other want her to experience the full scope of her earned punishment after she had poked fun at him earlier in an attempt to look brave to her friends? Or had this always been a part of his plans; rope or cables or whatever the hell was securing her arms having been stashed away in his hoodie pocket, just waiting to snare the perfect victim?

A second scream snapped Natalie out of her aching head, making her heart freeze its desperate pounding in her chest. It sounded too raw, too primal to be a soundtrack jumpscare triggered by one of the maze’s sensors. The guttural terror made every hair on the back of Natalie’s neck stand on end. There was no doubt about who it could have come from. Brooke wasn’t going to be able to move fast enough to fight off her attacker with that gash on her thigh. If she was going to survive then Natalie was going to need to find a way to get to her before The Other had a chance to finish what he started. 

And then it was quiet.

Natalie strained her ears to listen past the drumming in her skull for any further sign of Brooke, hoping to pick up a whimper or fainter yells or the exit door triumphantly slamming open. Distress was a cruel thing to wish for, but it was the only sure sign she had that her best friend was still alive. She couldn’t lose Brooke, not like this, not when they had already lost so much in a matter of mere hours. They were going to go to Spain–!

“Brooke!” Natalie called out, hoping her voice would carry down the changing hallways. When only ambient music responded, she tried again. “Brooke!”

Nothing. Silence. No, no, Brooke had to be hiding and unable to give away her position to respond. She had to be too far away. She had to have already escaped. Natalie refused to accept there were any other alternatives, not if she wanted to cling onto what little sanity she was afforded in this moment. With renewed vigor to save Brooke from a brutal end, far more concerned for her than her own safety, she fought against her restraints until she was able to gain enough footing to scooch herself forward on her belly. It was a humiliating position to be in, literally writhing on the ground like an insect waiting to be stepped on, but it was better than rolling over to expose her underbelly and wait for The Other to gut her accordingly.

She didn’t have much in mind when it came to a game plan, all her ideas having been bashed out of her head when she was knocked out. There was little she could do without the use of her arms, much less when there wasn’t a way to pull herself onto her feet without toppling over the rest of the standing mannequins. She thought about shimmying herself up the doorframe to help her get on her knees before the sight of the discarded ice shaving knife caught her attention from the corner of her eye. 

Well, there was no reason The Other needed to dual wield two blades, she supposed, likely having dropped it during their brief scuffle. But if he wasn’t going to use it…

Grunting, Natalie pushed forward as well as she could, relying on her legs to scoot her along the filthy concrete, further soiling the once white top she had borrowed from Brooke – I’ll wash it, I’ll bleach it, I’ll buy you a new one, I promise, Brooke, I promise. Her right knee throbbed every time she bent it to wiggle further, the bruised joint not taking too kindly to the extra strain after having just been kicked by The Other. She should consider herself lucky that he hadn’t managed to dislocate the bone or she’d really be in trouble, though perhaps she should focus more on the fact she was still alive and not decapitated rather than gripe about a bum leg. 

It felt like she was running a marathon with the amount of effort she was exerting just to move a few feet to the left. Natalie liked to think herself to be in relatively good shape, maybe not exactly toned as there was hardly a muscle to flex on her lithe body, but her labored breathing said otherwise. Even with the adrenaline shifting her instincts into overdrive, giving her tired body its much needed second wind, it didn’t change the fact she could hardly breathe through her bloodied nostrils and that her weight was fully resting on her diaphragm. Coupled with a blinding pain that still threatened to make her hurl if she moved her eyes too fast and it was no wonder why she felt as worn down as she looked. 

There was plenty of fight left in her. All she needed to do was get a hold of that knife, blindly fumble with it behind her back while hoping she didn’t slice a finger off on the serrated edge, and saw through her bindings. Rope, hopefully. Predictably. If it was something thicker, stronger, like cable or nylon, her plan would already be massively screwed before she had the chance to–

A yelp escaped her lips before she could contain it, flinching back when a steel toe boot stomped down on the hilt of the knife less than a foot away from her. Ideally, she would have scrambled a good pace away from her sudden attacker, but all she could manage was to duck her head into her shoulders and hopefully avoid getting curb stomped by his other foot. Brown eyes were blown wide in shock, helpless watching as her one salvation was caught under The Other’s sole and kicked far, far out of her restricted reach. In her current state, he may as well have launched it outside of the fairgrounds, because there was not a chance in hell she’d be able to sloppily crawl for it while the killer was looming overhead.

Her breathing hitched in her throat, not having expected him back so soon. How long had she initially been knocked out? How long had she truly spent regaining her senses and wriggling around? Had she wasted a precious hour without realizing it, or could he truly be efficient when he wanted to be, when he had grown tired of toying with a bunch of college kids? Despite her head pounding in protest, Natalie rolled over onto her side and dropped onto her back, unable to bite back a pained whimper as her migraine worsened. In this position, she could at least brace on her forearms for a bit more control in moving backwards. Better than relying solely on her legs skidding on concrete. 

It took a terrifying moment for her new perspective to stop tilting, adjusting to the blood now pooling towards the back of her head rather than dripping from her nose and mouth. She worried her sudden drop in blood pressure would cause her to blackout again, at the literal worst possible moment with a serial killer hovering by her side, completely at his mercy to hack and slash her vulnerable body.

Who was she kidding, she was already in that exact predicament, the only difference being that she had the unfortunate pleasure of watching her execution in all its painful glory. As much as she didn’t want to, she needed to keep The Other in her sights, needed to see what move he was planning to make next. Whether it was better or not to know what was coming was debatable, but the last thing she wanted was to be caught off guard in her final moments, missing something that could have been the perfect defense.

The red light that barely illuminated the cramped room was horrifically artful in the way it reflected off him. Muted shadows blended into his dark clothing, making him appear larger, all encompassing, while the crevices of the faux rotted mask pulled into more sinister expressions that hid his own underneath. Inky splotches reflected off of his hands still tightly gripping the ax’s handle, splattering up to the cuffs of his hoodie and streaking over his knuckles when he flexed his fingers in anticipation. A sickening feeling settled heavily in Natalie’s stomach as it became apparent his exposed skin, his only exposed skin, was drenched in blood that surely wasn’t his own. Not only that, but the dripping red liquid continued its gory trail up the length of the ax all the way to its head, glistening crimson and thirsty for more.

It was much more blood than had been on his new weapon of choice before, far too much to have been caused by the single slice he had gotten on Brooke’s leg. Too wet. Too fresh. It was damn near coated in viscera, impossible to pinpoint whether the blood splattered outward from the blade or the blunt hilt. Maybe he had partially caved in Natalie’s head when he slammed the end into her face – the brain was capable of functioning in plenty of wild circumstances, like a metal rod through an eye or a bullet that lodged between the folds. She must be lying here with half her brain hanging out without realizing it, the blood on The Other and his ax primarily belonging to her impressive head wound because…because if it wasn’t…

Then that would mean Brooke, she…she couldn’t…she’d be…

It all hit Natalie in that moment, yet she couldn’t process a single thing, too overcome by a tidal wave of emotions to be able to experience them individually. Her mind desperately tried to rationalize what she was seeing, convince her otherwise of the obvious evidence that dripped at her feet. There was no body, there was no proof. The blood on his ax was copious, sure, but nowhere near a lethal amount. Excluding whatever backsplash was soaking into his clothes out of sight. Excluding the ever growing puddle that was sure to be spreading from the bone-deep wounds. No, no, no! No, she refused to accept it. 

This wasn’t what was meant to happen! They were meant to escape together, a bit worse for wear but alive in each other’s arms! They were meant to have a fun night out with friends and boyfriends to make up for lost time! 

It was all Natalie’s fault. She should have been a better friend, taking a break from her studies to accept Brooke’s invitations for a hangout rather than brush her off. So many extra memories they could have made together if Natalie hadn’t been too absorbed in her own world to the point of distancing her best friend. Maybe then they wouldn’t have felt the need to go so big at Hell Fest, instead sticking to more local bars and pop up houses. Maybe she and Gavin could have shared their first kiss earlier. Maybe she and Taylor could have properly buried the hatchet from their schooldays and become real friends. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt so guilty for canceling going out as a group on tonight since they had would have just seen each other earlier, then maybe the rest of the group never would have become targets by proxy for The Other, then maybe they’d all be alive because Natalie hadn’t stupidly teased a dangerous man into committing a very real murder in front of her. Fixated on her. Obsessed over her. 

She sobbed, unable and unwilling to hold back the ugly emotions in her chest. Her vision was blurring, this time from tears that rapidly cut through the blood on her cheeks to make streaky paths. Her sinuses burned, amplifying the pain already accompanying her broken nose. God, she must look like an absolute sight; helplessly rolled over on her back, struggling to crawl backwards in a vain attempt to keep distance between herself and the killer, face filthy in blood and sweat and tears. All she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and hide her face, hide her shame and her self hatred, and wait for the big scary monster to go away and leave her alone. These kinds of things weren’t supposed to be real. And when it was real, it was the kinds of things that happened to other people, for her to later hear about on the news and think to herself wow, how awful, thank God that wasn’t me. 

“Please,” she whimpered. It was difficult to find balance with her arms angled near sideways behind her, causing her to scoot too far and slip fully on her back with a wince. She didn’t let it deter her, opting to ignore how her elbows dug awkwardly into her spine while kicking her legs to inch backwards as quickly as she could. “Please, please, I’m sorry!”

Sorry for making fun of you, sorry for trying to beat the shit out of you with a prop on two separate occasions, sorry for invading your hunting grounds, you’re scary, you’re scary, you’re so fucking scary–

The Other tilted his head at her pitiful display and Natalie choked on another sob. It was like he was mocking her, feigning consideration for her blubbering apology as if it would be enough to soothe the bloodlust she fueled. The meager few feet she had managed to put between them was undone in an instant when he stalked towards her with slow, deliberate steps. Heavy boots sounded like gunshots cracking in her ears, signaling he was coming closer, closer, ready to seal her fate with his deadly intent. No matter how fruitlessly she struggled to keep moving backwards, it was impossible to make more distance than what he was already closing. Her doe eyes were locked fully on him, regrettably resulting in the misdirection she was crawling backwards towards. 

Wobbly mannequin legs stopped Natalie in her meager tracks. A couple of the figures, still off balance on their stands from the fight earlier, tipped and fell around her like masked dominos. She flinched, yelping at what she briefly thought were additional assailants that further caged her in with their black capes. Instead, they only served to further halt any escape by blocking all directions but forward, directly towards The Other, knowing she wouldn’t be able to scramble over their uneven bodies without the use of her arms. Like a fitful child, she tried to kick and jerk her shoulders to shake the swaddled figures off of her, but it made little difference besides nestling her deeper between them until her back was against the wall. 

Trapped. Game over.

She was hyperventilating now, a poor combination with a blocked nasal and tight throat. She was suffocating, unable to hold a breath long enough for it to be any use before it left her as a strangled cry. The Other was practically on top of her, trapping her between his legs while he stood above her at her hips. Even if she were to try and kick up at him, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hit anything, only further sliding herself down on her back and giving him the perfect vantage point of her neck. Perhaps it would be in her best interest to bear her throat to the wolf’s teeth in hopes for a swift ending, but she doubted her stalker would let her escape him that quickly. Not after he had spent the entire night in her shadow, always lurking, never pouncing, wanting to savor the chase as long as possible before digging in.

“Please don’t, please,” Natalie begged again, her hysteria building the longer he toyed with her inevitable end. She didn’t want to die, naturally, but God, she didn’t want it to hurt either. She didn’t want to watch herself be hacked into little pieces for an hour, feeling every muscle be ripped apart and the bones splinter under her skin. His fist trembled slightly at her incessant pleading from where it held the neck of the ax, clenching the wood hard enough to make it creak. The Other was just barely restraining himself, his willpower failing seconds later as he shifted the ax to be weld overhead, poised to strike down.

She had always heard in these situations that people suddenly find themselves with immeasurable strength or that their life flashes before their eyes. Neither of those happened to Natalie; she wasn’t able to miraculously rip through her binds and she didn’t experience twenty-two years of memories in an instant. All she felt was pure, unbridled terror squeezing her heart, threatening to crush it before she had the chance to feel her head being caved in. The ax came hurling down at impressive speed, a testament to The Other’s strength hidden beneath the baggy folds of his hoodie, gunning for the poor girl’s skull. Her arms nearly pulled themselves out of their sockets in the instinctive need to shield her head from the blow, as if that would protect her from an already gruesome end. If anything, it would prolong the attack.

Instead, she screwed her eyes tight and turned her head to the side, shrinking into herself as every muscle wound itself up like a spring. Tears flooded down her face, almost wiping her cheeks clean at this point, save for the runny mascara that now mixed with the remaining pink tracks on her skin. There were no last words to utter. No final beg for mercy. Nothing but a pained shriek for her killer to remember her by, assuming she was worth remembering at all. What was hell on earth for her on this one night could be nothing more than the average Friday to him. 

Natalie heard the impact of his ax. She had felt the air woosh over her face as it arced down. She could smell the sickening odor of gore even through the drying blood clogging in her nostrils. But, strangely enough, she could also still feel her pulse thrumming in her ears, her skin feeling electrified to the touch. Still breathing. Still alive. In pain, yes, but no more than she had been seconds prior. There was no rush of warmth spilling from her head or neck to coat her in her own fluids. Hesitantly, she cracked open an eye to see if she would be immediately greeted by the afterlife, or perhaps to check if a chunk of her brain was sitting in her lap and blissfully unaware she’d been lobotomized before The Other finished the job.

The bloody head of the ax was the first thing she saw, less than an inch away from the tip of her nose. She squeaked in surprise and jerked away from it as if it would grow teeth and bite her. It was not, in fact, buried into her tender flesh and eager to rip out chunks of her with each frenzied hack, rather it stayed embedded into the mass of fabric and wooden torsos underneath that had once been a part of the room’s attraction. If it weren’t for the thick layer of gore covering the blade, Natalie would have sworn she’d be able to see her reflection staring wide eyed back at her. 

The Other had…missed? 

No, that didn’t seem possible, not with his unrelenting prowess. He had avoided carving her face off deliberately, just as he had spared her the first time he had her on the ground and under his ax. Perhaps he wasn’t done playing his game after all.

Her terrified gaze followed up the length of the handle to see the killer at last relinquish his hold on the weapon, effectively disarming himself yet still as dangerous as ever. He could rip her apart with his own two hands if he wanted to, Natalie was certain of it. And there was still a chance that was exactly what he had in mind, too, something more personal and intimate saved just for her. Another whimper had found its way out of her chest when The Other shifted his weight where he stood, from engulfing her in his backlit shadow like a giant to lowering himself down to a crouch. Not quite eye level and much too close for comfort. He sat back on his haunches, arms resting on his knees while Natalie remained sprawled under his legs.

For a moment, he simply stared at her. Studying her. Waiting to see if she was going to make the first move or if she had finally learned her lesson of staying exactly how he wanted her. Her stalker knew all the worst ways to trip her up when she refused to cooperate with his advances; corralling her in the bathroom stalls and swinging his ax opposite of her hiding spot when they had entered this room together. Natalie was too petrified to do anything but tremble and hold back the cries that threatened to overflow from her eyes. A good answer, it seemed, because he hadn’t wrung her neck until every vertebrae snapped yet.

His right arm shifted to reach for her slowly, with the bloody fingers splayed like he were coaxing a feral cat. She didn’t have the feline advantage of needle-like claws or baby fangs to ward off the encroaching predator, nor could she find the courage within herself to hiss and yowl like it might deter him. Nine lives wouldn’t be enough to save her, so Natalie was going to have to make do with what little she had – which, to be clear, was jackshit. All she could do was jerk her head to the side in an attempt to keep him from touching her face, though even that proved to be a fruitless endeavor. 

Before she had the chance to fully look away, his open hand lurched forward to grab her by the jaw and stop her in her tracks. She cried out in surprise, unable to resist when he forcibly turned her head back to face him to avoid the risk of a broken neck. His nails bit into the bruising skin of her cheeks, thumb digging to the gap between her sets of teeth and nearly cutting the inside of her mouth on her molars. So badly she wanted to close her eyes and block out the sight of his hideous yellow mask, pretend that he wasn’t there and when she’d open them he’d be gone. But her body refused to let her look away any longer, almost as transfixed on him as he had been with her all night. He was closer now, leaning in far enough that Natalie feared he might try to kiss her through his mangled faux lips.

The black holes of The Other’s mask offered no hint of emotion that he concealed behind it, not even a peek at what color his eyes were. A void; soulless and ready to swallow her whole if she dared to break what she assumed was eye contact again. He wanted to see her, and she was going to see him whether she wanted to or not. Well, she hoped he liked what he saw: a frightened girl barely on the cusp of adulthood in the midst of a panic attack and covered in too many people’s blood, probably with a deviated septum and two budding black eyes to boot. How appealing, certainly how Natalie had always envisioned herself to be remembered as – utterly pathetic. A lackluster final girl.

His thumb that had been previously pressing into her mandible eased up slightly to move across her face, now settling above her cupid’s bow. Natalie hissed in pain, automatically flinching back but not moving an inch thanks to the steeled grip The Other had on her chin. In an instant, he lifted his thumb off her upper lip entirely, giving her a brief moment for the ache to subside before his touch returned. It was lighter this time, gentle, the rough pad swiping under her nose like he was trying to wipe away the mess of blood he had caused in the first place. Of course, it wasn’t like his gesture was doing much to help give how much blood had dried down into a tacky consistency, nevermind the amount of viscera he was transferring from his own hands onto Natalie’s face. 

Though she appreciated (in a weird sense) that his touch was softer, it didn’t change the fact her bruising skin still pulsated under his fingers, burning red hot. She grimaced, focusing on blinking back her tears rather than think about whose gore not Brooke’s not Brooke’s not Brooke’s was being rubbed over her mouth, dangerously close to be tasted and surely the final straw to make her retch. 

If she didn’t know any better, which one could argue she didn’t as she was battling physical and mental trauma to the head, Natalie would almost think the killer was trying to convey an apology of sorts. As if he was sorry for the short term punishment he felt he needed to give her, certainly not caring about the repercussions for everything else however. Or he was merely admiring his handiwork in a perverse sort of way. A pretty girl covered in her pretty blood, begging to be drenched in more of it just so he could get his rocks off.

Mercifully, his hold loosened and Natalie sucked in a gasp, unaware she had been holding her breath the entire time. It felt like she deserved some sort of reward for not immediately flinching away again when his fingers ghosted over the apple of her cheek. She had been trained well, a quick learner. His hands were warm and rough and sickeningly slick with red, yet so impossibly light in the way they just barely touched her skin in passing. As if these weren’t the same hands responsible for countless deaths and agony, knowing they could decide to gouge out her eyes on a whim. She dared to let her gaze drift from his mask to follow where his deadly hold was traveling next, cringing when they tucked into several strands of hair that had been matted against her face from her bloody nose. Carefully, The Other tugged the hair loose and brushed it behind her ear.

Dirty fingers buried into her locks, uncaring how he soiled them. To be fair, most of her curls had already fallen out and the frizzy ends were likely a mess of tangles, caked in blood and sweat. It was only a small relief that he didn’t go grasping for her scalp, much like how he had tried to grab a hold of her in the bathroom to tug her upwards. This time, he combed his hand down the full length of her hair, stopped by a few knots that he tugged free along the way. It should have been soothing, such a sweet and loving act, even being done with a tender touch, but all it did for Natalie was make her stomach clench in anticipation. The other shoe was bound to drop at any moment. In a flash, his docile facade would be replaced with a blade shoved up to its hilt in her kidney, and she refused to be caught off guard.

When he reached the ends of her hair, he curled them around his fingers, letting the strands slip between his knuckles before twirling them back into his hold. The Other was mesmerized, fascinated, like he was experiencing the luxury of playing with someone’s hair for the first time. 

Long and mousy, just like her’s. Not as silky, though, needed to be straighter. Nothing a good conditioner couldn’t fix. One that had a faint coconut scent, just like he used to be able to smell whenever she tucked herself under his arm– 

His obsession unnerved Natalie more than usual while he was in her personal space, heightened by the uncertainty of his current behavior. Even if her arms were free, she wasn’t sure she’d have the gall to shove him away while he was so pacified in her presence, a stark contrast to every other encounter. It was a miracle how quickly he could be subdued when she wasn’t clawing at the walls to escape his presence, like it was her fault in assuming he meant her horrific bodily harm given the track record he demonstrated all night. Really, that possibility still wasn’t entirely off the table. 

She just wanted a bit of breathing room, wanted him off of her to collect her thoughts before she either spiraled into a nervous breakdown or died of an aneurysm then and there. Crowding her space like this, Natalie could hear every exhale muffled by the mask, see his shoulders rise and fall in tandem, smell the blood that clung to him tinged with just the slightest hint of cologne, pick out all the individual bumps and divots of his mask.

It was like he was sizing her up in the boarding school haunted house again. Before she had given away that poor girl’s hiding spot, stupidly assuming it was all part of an act, when she thought The Other was nothing more than a harmless actor trying to get a rise out of her and her friends. She supposed it worked in the end. He had more than proven his point. If she hadn’t called him out, would he have ignored her in favor of hunting down his target without a second glance? Or would she still occupy his thoughts and spurn him to track her down all the same, equally enamored despite only seeing her in passing? Was there ever a chance she would have been safe no matter how he caught sight of her, would there be significantly less bodies in his wake if she’d just let him corner her in a bathroom stall and play with her hair for a bit?

Fuck, she hoped he wasn’t going to reveal himself to be one of those serial killers that wore their victims skin and was simply fantasizing about what a great wig her scalp would make.

Natalie swallowed to wet her hoarse throat, hoping her voice would be found. It took a few tries before she was confident she could make a sound that wasn’t simply a miserable whine. “What–” 

She couldn’t stop herself from recoiling fast enough when The Other snapped his attention back to her face. His breathing faltered, only for a beat, the single indicator that he had been equally startled by her sudden conversation. All eyes were on her now, eager to hear what she had to say. She hadn’t talked to him in a while – screaming and crying didn’t count in his book. The killer was obviously not a man of many words, not while he donned his murderous persona anyways, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pleased to see Natalie initiate a conversation all on her own. It was well worth being shaken out of whatever daydream he’d temporarily lost himself in, especially for her if it meant chasing away any musings he could be having about the best way to peel off her skin to make a belt. He tilted his head, urging her to continue.

“What…wh-what do you want?” She finally squeaked out, cowering under him in case that was all he needed to fly into a bloody frenzy again. It was hard to say if she was truly expecting a response, a verbal one anyways. Who knew if he even could give her that much, if his mutism extended beyond his haunted house hobbies. 

Deep down, she knew what the answer was, and she knew he knew it, too. It had been obvious from the start, The Other had made no effort in hiding it from anyone.

He wanted her and now there was nobody left to stop him.

[starrihan]

l i f e i s c o o l - Bestfriend! Boynextdoor

-> Pairing: boynextdoor x gender neutral! Reader

-> Plot: what I think bnd would be like as best friends/ bnd best friend dynamics (not specified)

-> Genre: fluff, cute, hyung line scenarios are set in college, woonhak's scenario is set in high school

-> Warnings: none

-> Word Count: 19.99 (teehee), each part is ~300-400 words

-> Notes: i just wanna say thank you to all the beautiful people who have read my works! i wanna keep writing and posting more and I still have so many ideas so i can't wait to publish them! in the mean time, my requests/ asks are open so send something in!

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Sungho: 

You were either always at his house, or he was always at yours. Yeah, you guys would hang out outside with your other friends, but usually, it was just the two of you in either of your houses. He was the literal boy next door. You guys grew up together, knew each other’s most embarrassing moments, past relationships, etc. Everyone swears that you two will end up together one day, but you both know your relationship is strictly platonic. Sure, you guys could admit each other was attractive, but you guys know you wouldn’t work well in a relationship. 

He would be the type to get mad at you for not doing the dishes in your own home when you knew he was coming over. But he’s so dramatic about it. The one time you did clean up he went ‘I can’t believe you cleaned up just for me’. Queue the fake teary eyes. You knew he loved the areas he was in to be clean, so you would leave messes on purpose just to irk him. But at the end of the day, he was the friend that you called for almost anything. When you broke up with your first partner, when you failed your first exam in college, and even when you tried to run away in high school because you had a fight with your parents. 

He was always there for you and he never judged you for who you were, even when you were being ridiculous. He would listen to you no matter what, giving both support or advice whenever you needed it. And he knew you better than you knew yourself, often being the only one that could calm you down when you were panicking or needed a moment. He was the bestest friend you could ever ask for <3

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Riwoo: 

He seemed very calm, cool and collected on the outside. People knew him as the smart, nonchalant guy that would fly through school without even trying. He never had trouble making friends, being quite popular in school, but he chose to keep his circle small, and that included you. People often wondered how he was friends with you. Whether you were bold and loud or shy and quiet, it seemed like his perceived aloof personality didn’t mesh well with yours. But people didn’t know your dynamic. 

Actually, behind closed doors, he was a goofball. He would see you actively trying to study and poke your cheeks to get your attention. If that didn’t work, he would start dancing in front of you until you rip your eyes away from your laptop screen and say a mindless, ‘what do you want.’ And you were the same to him. You guys were like siblings, acting all cool in public but really annoying each other when it was just the two of you. But with all the goofiness came all the love your best friend had to offer. 

Like you once told him about this person you went on a date with and how they treated you terribly. He said he would ‘show them a piece of my mind’ and you had to remind him that he couldn’t just beat someone up because they made you feel upset. He would go to the end of the world and back for you. And of course you reciprocated that sentiment. Like the one time he got a bad haircut in the beginning of high school and you were making fun of him, but when other people did it you’d shoot them daggers and tell them that they weren’t allowed to make fun of him. All in all, one of the best friendship dynamics you could ever ask for.

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Jaehyun: 

One time you left the door to your college dorm room open with a sign saying ‘I’m new to the city, let’s be friends!’ and he ran in, smiled, and said ‘I’m new too, let's be friends!’ And you've been friends ever since. You guys were each other's first friends in college and were surprised that you had similar schedules and even similar majors. You guys both had roommates so you would opt to hang out with each other outside of the dorms. Your go-to spots were the game room in you residence hall or the small cafes that were littered all throughout the campus. 

You commonly had study dates (platonically of course) where you’d spend countless hours at the library preparing for midterms, taking turns being the one to grab coffee for the both of you from the late-night cafe across the street. You once fell asleep at the library while studying and instead of bringing you back to your dorm or his own, he left you there until the morning. You didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day. 

But you were the casual bestie duo. You went out to your first parties together, having to shoo off any girls that would try to talk to him after he would clearly express his disinterest. You guys took your first shots together, and even got drunk for the first time, together. To which you both agreed that you wouldn’t be really drunk together ever again because you got back to your dorms and didn’t remember anything about the night before and Jaehyun lost a shoe. But all those experiences is what made you guys as close as you are, and you wouldn’t trade any of those experiences with him for all the money in the world

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Taesan:

An annoying little shit that you can't stand and yet you love him so much. You became friends in elementary school. You were playing with a toy by yourself and he came and ripped it away from your hands. Instead of crying, you hit him and then he hit you back and you guys got into a little kid fight. The teachers had to come break you guys up but instead of screaming and crying, you guys were both laughing. After that, snatching each other’s toys had become a joke to you, always trying to catch the other off guard about when you’d strike next. That’s what blossomed into your current relationship. 

You both went to the same university. You decided that the cheapest option would be to get an apartment together off campus, (but still close enough to the university because neither of you can drive.) You realized that was mistake number one. As you got older, the mischievous little kid that would start fights with him slowly got replaced by a sensitive and irritable adult. You loved his pranks, and you wouldn’t want him to treat you any other way. But sometimes, he would get under your skin. Like the time that you were getting ready for an event that you deemed important enough for you to dress to the 9’s for, only to have Taesan 'accidentally' spill his, now cooled down, ramen broth all over your white outfit. That was the first time he’d ever seen you cry, and he knew he messed up. He apologized over and over again for weeks until you got fed up with it. You weren’t mad at him for long, but he still felt really bad about it. 

But that was your favorite part about Taesan. Even though you had changed as you grew up and he didn’t, (thinking about the time he said that he’s always had a bad personality), he never criticized the person you became. He always welcomed your new personality traits with open arms. You could always fully be yourself around him and not have to worry about if he’d judge you or stop being your friend. Plus, you’d seen the worst of each other, you couldn’t stop being friends now even if you wanted to. 

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Leehan: 

It all started when you moved to Busan. You were 4 years old, making you the new kid. You were still shy, having been so young and this being your first time in school, you had no idea how to make friends. You would just keep to yourself for the first couple of days, and Leehan would notice. He didn’t say anything at first, quietly observing you and your behaviors. He noticed one day that you had brought in gummy bears to eat during snack time. You were the only other person in class that he saw with gummies, so he immediately went up to you. You guys bonded over your shared love for gummies and he even brought enough to share with you the next day.

Leehan was the type of best friend that was always nice, not only to you, but to everyone else as well. He was very liked in high school and even going into college, people loved him. He was the literal definition of ‘big friendly giant.’ Your friendship was very helpful and domestic. Whenever you needed help grabbing things at his house, he would always reach up and get it for you. He loved helping you out, despite his lazy personality. You had mentioned to him that you wanted to make a poster wall in your room and he showed up to your house the next day ready to help you, even though you never asked. 

He was never a man of many words, but he was a great listener. He would always be so focused on what you would be saying. He always gave you his full attention whenever you were telling a story, stopping whatever he was doing to listen to you. And you would do the same for him, especially when he would talk about fish. He always told you whenever he was going out to buy a new fish and even let you name one of his when you were kids. Your friendship is so cute an innocent and Leehan is your comfort person, as much as you are his. 

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Woonhak: 

You guys had met in middle school. You had both participated in the school’s talent show, where you ran into each other using the theatre room to practice your performances. He wanted to practice his singing, and you wanted to practice your dancing. After arguing back and forth, one of the teachers had heard your bickering, proposing a schedule where you guys would switch off days to use the theatre room until the day of the talent show. When the teacher said he could use the room to practice that day, he stuck his tongue out at you in a mocking way, to which you replied with a teasing look of your own. 

You were older than him by a couple months, and you’d always use it to your advantage. He distinctly remembers when you two were kids and the ice cream truck only had one popsicle left. He was about to speak up and ask for it, when you started talking first using the ‘I’m older than you so you should let your elders pick first,’ argument before eating the popsicle right in his face. It backfired on you when class presentations were going on and Woonhak volunteered you to go first because ‘I have to respect my elders and let them go first.’

Even though it had seemed that you guys were rivals, it’s what caused your friendship to grow. Even going into high school, both of your desires to perform only grew stronger. You both always auditioned for any role in the school play, talent show, festival, etc. and would always mock the other if one of you didn’t get what you wanted. But even during those silly antics, you would both stay with each other while practicing your performances, giving tips and pointers on how to be better. You had always cared for each other, even though you both sucked at expressing it. But that was the beauty of your friendship, the words didn’t need to be spoken that you guys cared for each other because your actions did all the talking for you

[familiarlyfrigid]

Chapter 2 is posted!

Click the ao3 link or read below:

ㅤ Alastor woke up in his room, blinking in confusion as he registered where he was, because he remembered falling asleep on the sofa. Lucifer had been sitting on the other end, and he vaguely remembered talking to him. No one else was around, so did that mean that… Lucifer carried him to bed? He sat up and rubbed his head as a surge of pain reminded him that he still felt terrible. His head hurt, his throat hurt, his body ached, and his mind was foggy, though it wasn’t as bad as it had been the previous night.

He also remembered having some strange dreams—letting Lucifer pet his ears, leaning his head on the King’s shoulder, cuddling with him so closely as if he was holding Alastor tight to protect him from harm. He shivered, though it wasn’t out of repulsion towards the thought, and pulled a blanket around himself, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to stay in bed for a few more minutes. While he wasn’t entirely against the idea of being more affectionate towards Lucifer, physical touch wasn’t really his way of showing endearment. Besides, Alastor was a very private person—he couldn’t get too friendly without inviting questions that he didn’t want to answer. He told himself that he just wasn’t thinking straight. His feverish dreams didn’t mean anything.

It was just a dream, right?

He took a deep, rattling breath, which he regretted as he started coughing. He sat at the edge of the bed, slowly standing up and preparing himself for the wave of dizziness he knew was coming. He managed to get dressed, but that was all he had the energy for. Running his hands through his messy hair in an attempt to straighten it, he looked at himself in the mirror and made himself look as presentable as he could, forcing his ears to point up and making his toothy grin almost look real. As tempting as it was to stay in bed all day, it would be awfully boring, so he headed downstairs to the kitchen. The walk was much longer than usual—actually, he normally just teleported instead. He cursed the constant fatigue that weighed him down as he forced his legs to carry him.

Alastor forced himself to eat a little and take some medicine, which prevented Charlie from fussing over him too much. Most of the others had already been up for a few hours. Not Lucifer, though; he was just coming downstairs to get some coffee. He didn’t say anything to Alastor. In fact, the King almost seemed to be avoiding him, only briefing telling Charlie once again that she shouldn’t worry about the sick demon. Maybe he felt awkward about last night, too?

Alastor soon moved to the parlor and sat in his armchair, wondering what to do with his time. There was no way Charlie would let him get any work done, though he didn’t really feel like trying in the first place. Everyone got to busying themselves for the day, leaving him by himself until Lucifer came over and leaned against the side of the chair. “So, how are you doing? Are you sure you should be up and about?”

He huffed as his ears drooped, and Lucifer couldn’t help but think that he looked cute that way. Static crackled in the air, mirroring the painful buzzing in his head. “Do you really expect me to stay in bed all day? The least I can do is keep tabs on everyone while I rest.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pressure pounding behind his eyes, and groaned, “My head is still killing me…”

“Do you want me to scratch behind your ears again?” the other asked with a playful smile.

Again? Alastor’s eyes widened, his thoughts slowly untangling as the veil clouding his memory started to lift. “What?”

His expression grew a little more sheepish, like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “You said it helped last night.”

Oh, he didn’t imagine it. The memory was beginning to come back to him now—he actually did fall asleep with Lucifer practically cradling him in his wings, out in the open where anyone could have seen them. His flushed face went an even brighter red, and the room suddenly felt too hot. “No one else saw us, correct?”

“Everyone else was asleep. I woke up at some point in the morning and brought you to your room before anyone saw.”

“Good,” he said with a sniffle, his voice ragged and stuffy. He gazed up at the other man, who was looking at him expectantly, a shameless smile across his face.

“Well? You haven’t answered my question.”

Alastor glanced across the room to the bar, where Husk and Angel Dust were talking. They seemed too engrossed in their conversation to run the risk of disrupting him. Was he really doing this? Letting himself be so dependent on someone for comfort as soon as he was in a vulnerable state? He could always deny it later on, he thought, say that he was still a little delirious and that none of it meant anything. He’d just lie his way out of admitting that Lucifer made him feel comfortable. Deciding that they were alone enough, he sighed, “You may touch my ears.”

Lucifer moved over to the sofa and sat down. “Come and lay down.”

He got up and sat at the other end, then stretched out across the entire length of the sofa. His feet dangled over the edge of the armrest, his head in the Devil’s lap. He felt hands move through his hair, pointed nails gently scratching at his scalp. It was strange, the way he only allowed certain people to touch him like this. Maybe it was some animalistic instinct he was allowing himself to give in to. Lucifer ran his hand over the length of the demon’s ears in slow, relaxing motions. His other hand brushed over Alastor’s forehead—still slightly warmer than normal. All of the sinner’s apprehension slowly melted away, lost to the soothing touch and persistent fatigue pulling him away from his thoughts. The white noise in his mind started to quiet down as he relaxed. He supposed that he could allow himself to lay there for a little while, even if it meant being ridiculed later by the others, and closed his eyes with a genuine smile.

I crave cute caretaking fics, so I’m writing one. This one can be interpreted as platonic or romantic radioapple!

Chapter 2 will come… eventually.

ㅤ Sitting on the sofa in the hotel’s lobby, Lucifer was only partially paying attention to what was on the TV. He soon found himself leaning against the armrest and closing his eyes, gradually drifting to sleep. It was late—a little after one in the morning—and the hotel was unnaturally quiet. Everyone else was asleep—except for Alastor, who was laying on the other end of the sofa and was evidently awake, stretching his legs out and shoving one hoof into Lucifer’s side in the process. He shifted, then pulled the blanket draped over him tighter around himself and curled up in the exact same position he was in before. He’d been repeating that same routine all night.

Lucifer was annoyed at being woken up, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at the poor deer. He knew he had to feel like shit to be so restless when he’d been so tired during the day. He had denied being sick for most of the day, even though it was obvious from the sound of his voice and the look of exhaustion behind his forced smile. His energy eventually ran out, much to his chagrin, and he’d been lying on the couch since that evening. His ears were flopped to the sides, his cheeks and nose were flushed red, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usual. Lucifer offered to look after him for the night, telling Charlie that he didn’t want her worrying about him. While that was true, it wasn’t the real reason he was so insistent. He wanted to be the one to care for Alastor and spend some time with him, but he didn’t want to outright say it. Everyone knew that the two were getting along, but they weren’t very open about just how much time they’d been spending together.

Alastor sat up a little, supporting himself with one arm, and started coughing harshly into his fist. It left his breathing ragged and faintly rattling in his chest as he blearily opened his eyes. He squinted at the TV for a moment before shielding his eyes with a static-filled groan. “Why are you watching this?” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and his words slightly slurred.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought some background noise would help.”

“There are better sources of background noise, you know,” he said, sounding only half awake. He closed his eyes, keeping them covered by his hand. “Turn that off. It’s too bright.”

Lucifer sat up and reached for the remote, switching the TV off. He looked at Alastor, who shifted to be sitting up with his arms wrapped around his knees and was shivering, and furrowed his brow. He really should’ve gone to bed a long time ago. “Do you want me to take you to your room?” Surely his bed was more comfortable than the couch, yet he shook his head in response. Instead, he slid closer to the King and leaned his head against his shoulder. Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise, a flutter of excitement in his chest at just how close he was. Alastor never initiated any sort of physical affection and, as far as he knew, wasn’t comfortable enough around him to allow for much physical contact between them. He wasn’t sure whether he should be glad that the sinner wanted to be so close to him, or worried because that was so unlike him. Either way, he seemed to relax a little, and letting him rest was the most important thing right then.

He decided to push his luck a little further, and raised a hand to gently run his fingers through the other man’s hair. He watched Alastor’s reaction carefully, ready to back off if he showed any signs of discomfort. But he didn’t. He simply closed his eyes and nestled his head against the Devil’s neck, overly-warm body slumped against his. His hair was soft, albeit tangled and slightly damp with sweat. The hand in his hair moved to one of his large, fluffy ears, slowly stroking his crimson fur. He made no attempt to move, letting his ears be petted and his head gently scratched, like the others did to Keekee. After a few minutes, the deer demon opened his eyes. There was a buzz of static in the air as he lifted his head, then suddenly sneezed, one of his ears swatting Lucifer in the face as they flicked back against his head. Alastor sniffled, then leaned against him again with a groan.

“Watch where you aim those things,” he said with no actual malice in his voice, flicking the tip of one ear. He pushed the shivering demon off of himself, keeping one hand on his shoulder to steady him because it seemed like he was barely awake. Since he decided that he was not leaving the couch, he was at least going to make himself comfortable. With a wave of his hand, Lucifer’s clothes were swapped with pajamas. Sanguine feathers spread at his sides as one pair of wings sprouted from his back. He laid down, then guided Alastor to lay with his head resting on his chest. His wings wrapped around the other, draping over the blanket that was already covering him.

Lucifer went back to stroking him behind the ears with an amused smile. A powerful Overlord like him, being treated like a harmless pet. “I never would’ve thought that you could be so clingy. You like being scratched behind the ears?” It felt a little wrong of him to enjoy this so much, but when would he get a chance to be this affectionate with him again?

“It distracts me from this headache…” he slurred out, coughing a few times. His voice sounded like it was coming from a cheap, malfunctioning speaker.

“Does cuddling with me help, too?”

There was a short pause. “Yes.” The admittance was so casual that Lucifer couldn’t help but chuckle. There was no way he would ever confess something like that if he wasn’t so out of it. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Alastor fully knew what he was saying.

“I think you’re just delirious.”

“Maybe…” His voice trailed off like he was starting to fall asleep, so Lucifer stayed quiet. He laid awake for a while, listening to the sinner’s static-filled breathing and intermittent coughing. Then, he slowly drifted to sleep as well, his wings still comfortingly wrapped around the other.

[thefloatingwriter]

beetee and coriolanus parallels consuming my every waking thought so coming on here to make it everyone else’s problem too because consider: they both grew up in poverty, their family’s struggling to make ends meet enough to pay for food. they both had something that distinguished themselves from their peers, coriolanus’ charm and beetee’s genius, that became something of a currency to them, something that they had that others didn’t when they were surrounded by people rich in everything else. they both had people they needed to protect, their families. they both rose above others to win something, the games, at the risk of losing themselves, even subconsciously, in order to save their families. they both met the “love of their life”, their songbird, through the games, while in a position of power above them as their mentors. they both risked the threat of death hanging above them in order to win the games, beetee in a bloody fight with another exhausted tribute just to be forgotten mere minutes later by the capitol and coriolanus slowly of starvation on the streets of the city he loved so much.

but the differences between them are what make them so similar and yet so vastly different as well. beetee and coriolanus both lost their innocence along the way to their victory in the games for beetee and the presidency for coriolanus, but beetee was forced into prostitution and to give up his brains for the very country he already killed for the entertainment of at the hands of a man who once watched his own cousin leave for the shadier districts of the capitol in the dead of night only to come back with food and a haunted look in her eyes. beetee was forced to come back every year to train kids to either become killers like him or die like the previous children that came last year and the year before that and the year before that, all to appease their president, a man who watched as some of his fellow mentors of the tenth slowly lost their light as the years go by, as more children die just like the ones they mentored all those years ago, as coriolanus snow himself climbs the political ladder, leaving a pile of bodies behind him. beetee and coriolanus both fell in love with their victors, wiress and lucy gray respectively, but coriolanus never saw lucy gray as a human being. she was district, below him, and besides, she was his, his tribute, his victor, his lucy gray. as soon as she realized who exactly snow was, a controlling, manipulative man who had already killed three people, one that he wouldn’t even admit to, she ran for her life, whereas wiress and beetee have never once strayed from the defining principle of any relationship: trust. wiress trusted beetee to help her win the hunger games, and he did. beetee trusted wiress to understand the meanings behind his sponsor gifts, the reasoning behind them or the lack of them, and she did. wiress trusted beetee with the rebellion even when he was indecisive on it, and he eventually helped the rebels when she couldn’t be there to do it herself. most importantly, beetee acknowledges that wiress is not his; she’s her own person with her own beliefs and opinions and characteristics that are vastly different from his own, but while that’s one of the most important aspects of beetee and wiress’ relationship, it’s something that coriolanus could never accept about his and lucy gray’s.

[asexualjedi]

As a kid I wanted to like be like the doctor like play them on tv but then I was likely they’ll never hire me I’m American and then I was like ok best I can get is companion but I need to like figure out how to break into acting I’m only gonna get older I’m running out of time. I need to get enough credits to ever be able to audition. Anyways long story short sometimes I’ll see the doctor or the companions and my brain just awaken that demon and is like ok we’ll time to drop out of law school change my life completely in need to hurry up and speed run if I’m not gonna run out of time.

[ybklix]

the project

★ pairing: softdom!bangchan x inexperiencedfem!reader

✦summary: Just when you were a little upset about being assigned to a partner on an important project because you felt he was not very competent, you gradually discovered how much he can help you, more than you could have imagined.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, college au, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, clitplay, marking, pet names, slight praise and corruption kink, multiple orgasms, slow burn maybe

word count: 7.7k

request ⭑.ᐟ (sorry if it took so long babesss ly)

masterlist - taglist ୭ ��. ᵎᵎ

miniplaylist: earn it by the weeknd / motive by ariana grande / fetish by selena gomez

notes: reader wears glasses

“Alright, before you go, I posted in the announcements who you will be doing the project with, please check well who you were assigned with” sentenced the teacher, taking his stuff.

You sighed, you had completely forgotten to check your notification tray for any notice from the app assigned by your professors for your subjects. You quickly grabbed your cell phone, unlocking it to look for your name next to another of your classmates to work together, you wanted to check it now so you wouldn't let go of whoever you were assigned to on a project of high importance to you.

And there it was. Bang Chan. You didn’t have any expression, you didn’t know him very well, but his face sure was quite familiar to everyone. You looked up in search of your partner, reflexively adjusting your glasses, and looked around the room until you found the guy, who was also sitting there checking his cell phone, and looked up to look for you, exchanging glances.

Chan was quite popular, charming, he was attractive and athletic but he also had a taste for complicated subjects, after all he was in a career where merely numbers and physics were required. And your project was something you were not going to take lightly, besides you had a short time period, it was just Thursday and the professor wanted the most perfect project on Monday and, you knew he was secretly hoping for something extraordinary as you were the best in his class.

You saw Chan approach you, and you couldn’t help but judge him at first sight, he was popular, he was part of a fraternity, and he had a reputation among women; deep inside you felt that he was not the perfect candidate to pair in an academic project but you tried to relax and not stress too much, it would only be a quantum model of which you already had your objective and ideas of what to do, the problem was a bit of paperwork where you had to explain in detail perfectly every part of the model, followed by a few long equations that made your head hurt just thinking about them.

You couldn’t help it, school and your major were never something you joked about, you were there to study and excel if at all possible, you loved to retain information and be complimented on your hard work, and you were always an overachiever from day one.

Finally, after years of sharing the same major, for the first time you observed Bang Chan up close and in detail. You looked up as he was standing and you were sitting. He really was handsome and you recognized him instantly, he had a face in perfect harmony with the rest of his muscular body, he was wearing all black, black combat boots, black jeans slightly tight on his thick athletic thighs and a plain black cloth shirt, highlighting more his tanned ivory skin. You suddenly felt nervous, after all you weren’t a robot and you were still a young woman, stressed out and a college student spending more time on campus than anywhere else; so your brain instantly processed that he was one of the most handsome and popular men on campus, near you, paying attention to you.

“Y/n, you’re my partner, for the project,” he said, with a tender smile revealing unusual dimples beside his smile.

You nodded being a little surprised that he knew who you were instantly, also thinking that you had never heard his voice before, the class wasn’t that interactive anyway, in fact almost none of them were, so you rarely heard him speak in the four classes you shared. You didn’t know what exactly you felt inside you… but you liked it, you were starting to recognize Chan’s hype, from what commonly many other girls thought, yes he was attractive and he took advanced physics classes with that face? It seemed unreal.

You suddenly thought that to take advanced physics classes was for a reason, it seemed criminal to have that face, body and reputation but in the mornings to take hard subjects.

“Mmhum” you hummed coming out of your trance, concentrating on the main thing, the project, “I have an idea of what to do, I can divide what materials we would occupy, to work together and do it, if you want to discuss what it is, we can go outside and talk…”

“Okay, let’s go but I’m sure I’ll agree with you” he suddenly interrupted you, leaving you with the words unfinished in your mouth and this one slightly open.

You nodded again and stood up abruptly, finally walking out of the room.

Chan saw you with tenderness, the truth was that for a long time you had caught his attention and he had his eye on you. Since last semester, in one of your final projects before leaving for summer vacation, since then Chan has not stopped thinking about you, since you spoke so clearly and confidently, like a little know-it-all, you were like a challenge for him, something so unreachable and difficult to achieve; since then he did not associate with more women and lived his day to day with the satisfaction of seeing you far away from the classroom. It seemed like he wasn’t, but he really got shy when it came to you, as he had you on a pedestal where you were a beautiful girl, intelligent, worried about her grades and made proper use of the university campus, genuinely studying. Chan had this innocent crush on you —at the beginning—, you had a nerdy, innocent and docile appearance and your voice was so unique, from one day to the next you drove him crazy and, when he found out that by fate you would work on a project and that there was a perfect excuse to get close to you, his heart wanted to burst out of his chest and he almost went running to give head to his professor for choosing such a perfect match, finally, after months of just seeing you.

Chan sighed, following you and listening attentively to you speak, completely fascinated in you and finding it difficult to retain the information you were telling him about something extremely important and which you spoke passionately about, all his mind could see was you, moving your lips, while the wind moved your hair gracefully, for him you were just saying blah blah, Chan; he only retained information when you pronounced his name. Chan licked his lips, absorbed in your eyes and then your lips, leaning towards you, causing you a little nervousness. Chan frowned softly, his hands clasped behind his back, nodding, pretending to be listening to you. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, the excitement and innocence of liking and being interested in someone; before you, he lived from one-night stands and on the edge, trying every girl, until he was satisfied, but you, there really was genuine interest.

“Ammh, can you text me everything anyway to my number?” he said, absolutely lost on the topic as he focused on your sudden closeness.

You nodded with a smile that made him melt, he liked you way too much and immediately handed you his cell phone so you could take down your number.

“Mm, how about if we start working on this from tomorrow? I think it will take some time and if we do it sooner is better” you commented, to which Chan nodded frantically at your slightest request.

Then he thought, he had to tutor students in grades below him, go to the gym and then he had a birthday party for one of his dorm mates; but he couldn’t say no to you, he could cancel everything if possible to spend the whole day with you, plus of course, the project was important.

You bit the inside of your cheek somewhat nervously, feeling kind of silly that the only times you invite a cute guy to meet and see each other is only for college work.

“How about tomorrow at 5?” you said again.

Chan felt so fulfilled, it wasn’t a date but he would finally see you outside the classroom, close up.

“Sure! There’s a coffee shop around here two blocks from campus, let’s go tomorrow to work on the project and if you want to eat I’m buying, it doesn’t matter” he smiled at you.

Now you were the one who was somehow captivated by his smile.

“Yes…”

“I’ll send you the address to meet us there.”

Chan was more than excited to at least spend more time with you.

[…]

You were particularly nervous for some reason, since yesterday you kept thinking that genuinely Chan looked like a nice guy, he was kind, attentively answered your messages and easily understood every single thing you told him about the topic for the assignment. Plus he was quite attractive. And your friends started to bother you a little bit too, making you rethink the whole situation…

In your time in college you only concentrated on your classes, you did have the occasional crush on the occasional guy, but no one worth your valuable time. So you got over it right away and went on with your quiet —and stressful— college life, however… that had led you to be completely inexperienced. The issue never bothered you, until you were about to meet another attractive man whom you had a concept that he was absolutely the opposite of you, partying, sociable and charismatic.

But once you arrived and found him there, you realized the similarities you shared, after all you were both studying the same major. You got to know him a little, relaxing the atmosphere, you learned that he had studied to please his father but that somehow he was great at mathematics which softened his studies. That he tutored and that he played a lot of sports. He really seemed nice and his eyes sparkled when he talked to you, an inexplicable fact for you, a reality that he was talking to his crush, for Chan.

And then it was time to meet you. You didn’t quite know what to say, more that your major choice was a matter of enjoyment and you were happy studying what you had been chosen to study. You felt slightly silly since there wasn’t much to say, or at least you thought so at the time.

Then between the pleasant conversation and a cup of coffee for you, and three for Chan, you continued working on the written work, both concentrated and absorbed that the time passed so fast for you, giving you 10 o'clock at night, just the closing time of the coffee shop.

You both picked up your things in sorrow, you had made enough progress, but there was still quite a bit left to do and that made you uneasy somehow, you couldn’t help it, you were going to be quiet until it was finished or almost done, so you suddenly blurted out:

“You live in a frat, right?”

“Mmhu, yes” Chan replied somewhat embarrassed.

He suddenly felt pathetic to be part of such an outdated tradition system.

You sighed, you both carried all the stuff to make the model and had to assemble it as soon as possible. Once again the cool autumn wind hit your bodies.

“We can go to my apartment to… continue” you added, looking him in the eyes and avoiding using the word finish so Chan wouldn’t be forced and feel it tedious.

Chan nodded softly when in reality he was more than excited to meet your place. The two of you took an app ride to your building just a few minutes away from campus.

You weren’t a big fan of college dorms and you weren't interested in joining a sorority either, so a quiet apartment in a neighborhood in the middle of the busy city was more than enough for you.

Chan didn’t think he was able to contain his excitement, watching you fondly in the night light as you made your way to your apartment; until finally arriving where he naturally asked you:

“And do you have roomates?”

He found it a bit impressive that you live a bit far from campus in a decent building on your own.

“Umhm, at the moment I don’t have any but I’m looking and I have candidates.”

Chan nodded in understanding and inwardly thinking that it would be more than a treat to be able to see your apartment. You really were looking for a roommate, living alone and being a college student paying for everything could be stressful.

“You can leave things on the table” you said, also leaving your laptop there.

He listened to you and slyly looked around the place. It was a nice place, with just enough room for you and someone else, with a big window reflecting the lights from the building across the street. You a little, not uncomfortable, but strange to have a man in your apartment looked so out of the ordinary, if you were even sharing time with another man was something abnormal, let alone a handsome and popular guy like Chan was.

“Well…” you spoke, somewhat nervously, lifting your glasses to rest the bridge of your nose for a second, rubbing it gently, suddenly you looked into the kitchen and were embarrassed to realize you hadn’t eaten and he would probably be hungry, “God, I never asked, do you want some dinner? I tend to forget about food when I’m under some pressure.”

Chan looked at you tenderly at first as you spoke, then his expression changed to one of concern.

“Are you skipping meals? Are you stressed now?”

His sudden answers surprised you.

“Oh, no, it’s just that… I usually work and do homework continuously that it’s very common that from time to time, I don’t eat, but if you want to do it we can order something, it’s kind of late” you answered somewhat nervously, the tiredness and Chan’s attractive image in your apartment were starting to be a certain kind of effect.

“Alright. Let’s order something” he smiled, Chan wasn’t that hungry but hearing that you used to skip meals he wanted you to be fed well instantly, besides if you were going to finish the project, he wanted to have all the energy he needed.

You smiled nervously and soon after you started your activity, you typed fast in your essay, Chan was in charge of assembling the model without difficulty. Then dinner arrived, both of you were already tired, your only time to stop was in the small talk in the coffee shop and when you headed to your place.

“Can you pick up dinner? I’ll go change” you blurted out suddenly, in a deep tone of voice as you were tired, a little more relaxed with Chan.

He saw you, he was surprised, since you had not spoken to each other for minutes since you were both concentrated in what you were doing —unlike him who also paid attention to you from once in a while—, your tone of voice seemed to him suddenly and somehow, something so captivating and seductive that he kept watching you, who you, without taking any notice of Chan standing in front of you on the other side of the table, took off the oversized cardigan you were wearing, somewhat exhausted in search of something more comfortable to be in your own apartment, leaving you only with the thin white tank top you were wearing underneath that garment.

Chan couldn’t believe it, he was transfixed and completely hypnotized by your action, absorbed seeing every detail, slightly exposing your chest through the circular neckline of the blouse, your shoulders, your arms and your figure tightly wrapped in the fabric. Chan swallowed nervously clenching his fist, he felt so pathetic going crazy just because you showed so little of your skin. His eyes traveled quickly all over your body, not wanting to miss any detail.

You noticed it, you felt his gaze on you and saw him confused, you felt so watched and analyzed, you could only say:

“I’ll go to… put on something more comfortable.”

Chan reacted instantly, letting out a nervous chuckle and nodding, turning to pick up the food left at your door. You didn’t know exactly how to feel, his gaze was so new to you, you had never felt such expressive eyes glued to you from another boy…. or probably they used to look at you like that, but you never paid attention to them, but with Chan, it was inevitable not to pay attention to him, he was with you, alone, in such a nice night; your mind was spinning, thinking about the infinity of things that usually means when two young people are alone and attracted to each other but, did you really like Chan or were you already losing your mind because of tiredness and stress, you didn’t know well, you were ridiculously inexperienced that your concept of attraction was maybe based on movies or experiences told by your friends.

Still you decided to ignore the thoughts and wanted to get comfortable at home, you had been wearing jeans for hours and you were dying to take them off, you would take off your bra if you could but you didn’t feel confident enough, so you left that tank top on and put on the comfortable shorts, your body was starting to heat up and you knew exactly why, but you didn’t want to accept it. You returned, finding Chan preparing food on the small nightstand between your living room, greeting you with a smile and gently asking you if it was okay to eat there to which you nodded.

Once again, Chan ran his gaze over your body, he had never seen you like this before, the sudden exposure of your body drove him crazy and made him feel sick, nor did he want to feel this way as it seemed unhinged and depraved, but he couldn’t help it, there was no turning back. At first it was a cute crush on you, then it involved a couple of desires and dirty thoughts that wouldn’t leave his mind. Chan, like any interested guy, casually asked among his friends if they knew you to which none of them knew how to answer, only a guy a year older than him, who was also in the same faculty, saying that you were very pretty but that there was no record of you dating on or off campus, that you were so reserved and that he wouldn’t be surprised that you were probably just studying, in the end he revealed that he had confessed to you and you had rejected him without giving him any reason. Chan’s silly and immature friends joked that you might still retain your innocence and that girls with a certain nerdy appearance used to be somewhat transcendental in sex, that they were shy and innocent at first but once you give them your trust to give them pleasure they were…

Chan refused those thoughts outright, dismissed them as misogynistic and was upset for days. He did get to see your innocence but it wasn’t something he fantasized about sexually, in fact, he never fantasized sexually about you, until that comment fucked with his head.

Because it was true, your private life was so private, you were not known to have had or dated anyone on campus and he found you so fucking interesting suddenly overnight, two intentions merged, Chan could desire you so purely by holding your hand and filling you with kisses, at the same time he could desire from you to fill you with his cum and fuck you to exhaustion. At the moment he was balancing the situation so well, he was doing so well that he had learned to stay away so long, as he didn’t know how to handle it, until now when the opportunity to be with you presented itself.

Chan was thinking about the fact that he hadn’t fucked a virgin woman since high school, when he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend too… but you had him all messed up and he could promise to be just as sweet to you if you give him the chance.

He cleared his throat and tried to come out of his trance, but when you approached him it was his dream and doom, looking to him so beautifully carefree in your shorts and tank top; still Chan did his best to behave himself and not want to ruin what he felt was just beginning.

You both started to eat sitting on the floor, close to each other, at first a little awkward, but quickly Chan knew how to soften the atmosphere, saying the right words and bringing up conversation topic after conversation topic, just to take your thoughts away a little, otherwise an incredible tension would have formed, as you were already starting to look at him closely and by the end of the night, you finally recognized how much you could get to like him, he was funny, handsome and you shared the same interests academically, you thought he could even be almost perfect. When you finished and cleaned up a bit, Chan watched you, so determined towards the project, going quickly towards it, ready to finish it, the truth was that you didn’t know exactly how to react, what would be the next move and you just got distracted escaping towards the project. He, somewhat frustrated, continued with you, just to keep breathing your sweet scent and to see your body in your comfortable home clothes.

Half an hour later, the meal instead of lifting Chan’s spirits did quite the opposite, relaxing him and making him tired and sleepy, plus the continuous hard work was beginning to stress him, but being with you rewarded him for everything except the tiredness in him, unfortunately. Chan watched you carefully, working non-stop, talking to him about the project with your deep and slightly tired tone of voice that seemed to Chan so seductive, he was beginning to lose himself, he was between drowsiness and desire, looking boldly at you, without thinking straight, he was about to hush you, take you and put you on his lap so you could both rest and, if possible, he would take you to bed, telling you how hard you work and that you should rest, that college matters, but not as much as yourself.

You once again noticed his heavy gaze on you, you saw how it was so likely that this time he was not paying attention to what you were saying, how he licked his lips and you became more nervous, more than the previous times, there was something so heavy in his presence that you had never felt before, you did not complain but you felt that at any moment it could get out of control… you thought if this was the sexual tension that you had only heard about.

Chan carved his eyes tiredly, he didn’t know how to stop you or tell you no, but your voice was stimulating him more and more, in a way to put him to bed and not exactly to sleep. Chan could only think of how suddenly he wanted to almost kiss you to shut you up and make you feel good.

You had already noticed his behavior, at times he looked tired, at times he looked at you in a way that made your hair stand on end.

Finally, he called your name, so serious, with a tone of voice that surprised you, made you stop talking about equations for a moment and look him straight in the eye. His gaze was dark and penetrating, you had never been seen like that before. You were both sitting next to each other, working close, so Chan leaned towards you, so ready to say what he felt from the start, he didn’t know exactly what he would say but he’d make sure he had you tonight; he was in agony, he couldn’t take it anymore with the sudden tension that escalated quickly and with your particular voice that was starting to excite him to stratospheric levels, and having him there in misery, unable to do anything, that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for.

He licked his lips and every part of you saw it coming, you knew it so deep down, you weren’t that dumb, his look and little actions spoke for themselves, you knew Chan was lusting after you and you panicked slightly not knowing what to do.

“You can take a nap if you want” you suggested kindly with a smile, hiding your nervousness at having him around, “You look tired, it’s okay.”

Chan was about to protest, he saw you confused and got caught in your captivating but hard to read gaze, your glasses reflected his tired body and unsweet intentions, so he decided to take a step back and agree, somehow he felt embarrassed and decided it was still better to keep his distance, even though that wasn’t specifically what he wanted.

He nodded, with a smile and somewhat embarrassed, “Really? You’re okay with that? I don’t want to leave you..”

He did get tired, but now he didn’t know if it was from the continuous work or from not being able to do anything with you.

You didn’t know why you did it, but you grabbed his shoulders and nodded, eyes shining, feeling so good to touch his strong body. You hadn’t touched him, maybe you just wanted to play a little and decided to kill your curiosity, how a man like Chan felt.

Chan subtly saw your hands on his shoulders and lost his mind again, but he sighed, calming down and getting up from his chair to rest his body on the couch. You no longer said anything, again the tension returned, with a silence. As much as Chan didn’t want to think about it, he thought of your smile, the way you spoke to him and of your gaze suddenly meaning so much to him, your bright eyes, almost asking to be touched by him, he could feel it, but he felt paranoid for a second, to which he only let his body fall on your couch, with his forearm on his forehead, the other hand on his abdomen and his head leaning back on a cushion, slowly closing his eyes, shutting off every one of his thoughts for a moment.

But it was true, you didn’t know how to say it, but being touched by Bang Chan just now didn’t sound so crazy to you. You were so ready but so not ready at the same time, you wanted to do it, you didn’t know how to tell him, it scared you since you didn’t know how to do it and you were in a continuous internal battle. You were slightly insecure, he was handsome and popular, with much more experience than you and, maybe it was something typical that you like Chan, since everybody likes him, but you were dying to try him even once…

Fifteen minutes later, of which you found incredibly stressful, as you continued to work on the project, chasing away every thought and more than okay with Chan staying quiet and napping on your couch, as you liked him incredibly well, you checked the time and became a little alert when you saw that it was almost one in the morning and you had no notion of time, you understood that Chan’s tiredness was justifiable and almost necessary and you were already starting to feel more stressed, as well as embarrassed by the fact that you had kept Chan working on the project so late. You reproached yourself, debating whether to wake him up and tell him that you could continue tomorrow, that it was almost done and you were missing something so minimal… or if you should let him stay over just for tonight since it was late.

You didn’t think so much about it though, as you suddenly felt large hands on your shoulders, massaging you and scaring you slightly. Chan giggled, he had woken up, more energetic and with the great intensity and willpower to try with you, something in him told him so and it was something he couldn’t ignore, so, without you noticing, he came up behind you, finding you still in the same position, working.

“God, Y/N, you need to relax, okay? It’s late you should rest, you’re really working hard on this.”

Your body tensed incredibly more, you really didn’t expect it, much less that he was touching you, with a slightly thicker voice than usual. You raised your gaze, his long fingers were still resting on your shoulders, magically he looked better than a moment ago, more energetic and with a flirtatious expression on his face.

“You’re awake already…” you replied nervously, not wanting to scare him away, like a few minutes ago.

“Just like you, it’s late. Has anyone ever told you how hard you work? Are you usually this demanding of yourself?”

You didn’t understand what was going on, it was as if he had suddenly changed but at the same time he was still the same and there was something that pleased you so much, like the sudden touch towards you.

You nodded, somewhat submissive with your head spinning not knowing how to react properly. Chan took the chair with agility, sitting down in front of you, stopping touching you and leaving you perplexed, blinking slowly letting you think that you were so tired that maybe you fell asleep deeply and that all this was just a dream. But it was so real and suddenly you were so awake.

“Leave all that for a moment…” he whispered slowly, gently removing the pencil from your hand and placing it on the table, “Let me take care of you.”

“What?”

Chan didn’t touch you again, he just stared at you, long and determined seconds that made you feel the lack of him in you. He leaned back in the chair, enjoying your tender expression of confusion. He had enough, he would try, he would do it for the incredible, heavy tension between you, and if you didn’t want to, he was going to understand but he already knew that was so unlikely. So he was direct, he always was, there was just something about you that kept him shy, but not anymore, he wanted you, he needed you, it was almost as if the night was asking for it too, something in the air drew you to each other irrevocably.

“You deserve to relax. I want you. Just tell me what you want, whether you want it or not, I won’t be weird about it afterwards, I promise, I just… can’t get you off my head, I need you.”

“How?” you mumbled, still in disbelief.

Chan smiled sideways, chuckling softly. “You know how. Want me to show you, sweetie?”

You nodded softly, wanting to put all shyness aside but you couldn’t control it, you were turned on and it was your first time in a situation like this, with intense tension that you even heard every breath and loud heartbeat in your ears.

You had done it before, kissing boys but the experiences were so insignificant that you hardly remember it or count it as experience, since you had learned nothing.

Chan moved dangerously close to you, resting his big hands on your bare thighs, stretching slightly and attractively his neck detonating little veins, his big straight nose so close to your face, with a smug smile, he said again:

“Can I kiss you?”

And it took only a small push of your yielding body to touch his lips, feeling at first the softness and plumpness of his full lips at the impact. Your body temperature rose madly, new sensations were taking over your body, it wasn’t the same ones that you had done before, his kisses were deeper, steady and passionate that it was hard to keep up with him and you were in between enjoying and thinking you wanted to do it right.

You let yourself go but you were still tense and Chan noticed it in the instant, with your body slightly trembling, he just wanted to make you feel good so he gently pulled away from you, leaving you missing the feel of his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, squeezing your thighs, feeling your muscle tense.

But your face reflected something else, your eyes were shining seeing every detail of Chan’s face up close, you were so ready but you had the tingle of wanting to get it right. He could see your nervous body, your countenance begging, still he didn’t want to continue if you were going to be nervous and almost resisting, he couldn’t read you clearly, he was really turned on, the slightest interaction with you made his body very blissful.

You denied, you knew you were so stiff and situations like these needed two relaxed bodies giving themselves, you were nervous but decided to confess it:

“It’s just… I want to do it right.”

Chan’s smile widened, your kiss was so tender and shy that thoughts of your innocence came back to his mind, he wanted to try so many things with you and make you explore, but he didn’t want you to feel insecure so he would patiently teach you step by step if necessary.

“It’s okay, baby, let me handle it” he whispered, with an endearing and understanding tone, still close to you, everything about him made you pleasantly uneasy, “I can teach you, just for your pleasure, okay?”

You nodded, lost in him, you noticed he looked genuinely interested and patient. Chan moved away again, leaning back in the chair, rubbing and patting his thigh with his veiny hand that was having an effect on you.

“Come here, to teach you how to do it better, although I was already loving the way you were doing it, princess.”

Chan ran his tongue over the bottom of his front teeth, waiting for you, and for you, every sentence of his almost made you sigh, you were so turned on, you knew exactly the feeling, you needed Chan now. You were a hot mess, you wanted and needed him so quickly and without much thought, you sat on his lap, trying to put your embarrassment aside, you sat down facing him, with your legs in the air on either side of the chair, Chan was surprised and felt so delightful your weight on his erection, he didn’t think you were going to position yourself like that but you left him absolutely charmed.

“I’m going to kiss you, try to keep up with me and move your sweet lips over mine, relax and let yourself go, beautiful, okay?”

He again took hold of your face with one hand and the other held your waist, you felt his sweet kiss at the same time you were dealing with the bulge between his pants pressing against your pussy. He was so hard, you could feel it if only through the slightly thick, rough denim of his black jeans. Chan was dressed so attractively, in a plain white shirt and leather jacket that he left on the rack in your entryway, with long silver chains decorating his collar and thick bracelets on his right wrist. You could feel how big he was, despite having clothes on, the thought of seeing a cock for the first time made your skin bristle with excitement, just imagining Chan, as something in yourself told you he should look so fucking good naked.

“Open your mouth wider” he whispered, panting and over your lips after a loud crash of your lips, as you parted almost non-existent inches apart.

You obeyed him and agilely he took you again, this time introducing his tongue and making the act slower and more sensual, so captivating that he even managed to relax you, you only lived from the sensation of letting yourself be carried away by him and with your face leaning on his hand. They had never made you feel this way that you slowly resented your throbbing pussy in desperation, suddenly so wet begging for attention.

“Mmm, I love your kisses, fuck” he mumbled senselessly as he pulled inches away from you.

You kept kissing, his face colliding with your glasses, but you didn’t want to take them off as you didn’t want to miss any tiny detail every time you parted for seconds. Chan, sesually and panting moved his kisses down your neck, filling your body more with euphoric and new sensations, his lips brushed your neck, giving soft and small sounding kisses until he subtly licked it, to suck your sensitive skin, using his teeth, causing you a pleasurable and short sting that reached every corner of your body, making you moan and leaving a mark on you.

His hands went down to your torso, to lift your blouse and finally feel the brush of his hands across your soft skin, he squeezed of your body, slowly lowering his lips, resisting the urge to fuck you hard, enduring the pain of his throbbing stiff cock trapped in his pants and being pressed against your body and you continued to feel his lips and the brush of his nose and heavy breathing across your skin going lower and lower, as well as constant little nibbles, leaving fresh new hickeys on you, Chan couldn’t help it, he was going crazy with the idea of you just being his, leaving reddish marks on you and biting your sensitive skin and it just turned you on so much. Reaching your chest, you twitched your body a little, moving it sharply and surprising Chan by the pleasurable friction of you on his cock. He grunted and pulled his lips away from your skin for a second and, almost as if an imaginary light bulb lit up above your head, you understood that being on his erection also made him feel good, as much as it made you feel good, since his erection was rubbing against your pussy, covered only by your wet panties and thin shorts; so you moved, stirring on his cock and intentionally grinding it harder.

Chan moaned, letting out soft, sonorous “A-aah, mmm” and then he raised his gaze, staring into your eyes, causing you to shiver at his lustful stare.

“Fuck, you want to move for me? Go ahead, baby, go fucking enjoy my cock with your clothes on, fuck, are you a little horny? Unable to wait and fucking me with your clothes on. Go ahead, enjoy and cum for me like this” he licked his lips, leveling his face with yours, talking to you in such a sultry tone that it made your cheeks burn.

You were so uselessly horny that you were enjoying to the fullest bouncing on Chan’s cock under the hard denim, pressing all over your pussy, your labia, moving them nimbly that it made you blur your vision.

“Yes-Keep moving, baby, you’re doing so good, beautiful.”

His voice aroused you more and more bringing you so close to your orgasm, you were so concentrated in the sensation of your movements on his cock, you couldn’t stop, you moved your hips and Chan helped you with his hands squeezing your waist; you felt so hot and trapped, so desperate to get your clothes off but you didn’t want to stop, you weren’t going to stop until you were tired, it was as if you had no choice but to climax right now, just like this. Chan watched with desire and tenderness your very focused and excited expression, sighing and straining to make you feel good at the same time you were making him feel that effect on him, squeezing his cock so hard, expelling precum and not so far from his ejaculation.

He admired the marks on your skin, witness and proof of what was happening, the top girl in the class, all aroused rubbing herself on her classmate’s cock, seeking pleasure and her climax. Chan bit his lower lip and caught your lips again, touching your restless and desperate body, he was about to cum. You were starting to get tired but it was a tiredness inexplicably so hot, your chest was burning from the constant strong heartbeat, you were at your limit and you were doing almost nothing, but both of you were a mess of heaving breaths, Chan didn’t want to change anything about you either at that moment, he just squeezed you tightly enjoying every movement until he cum inside his underwear, in a gasp, throwing his head back, feeling one pressure release pleasantly but another coming so abruptly and quickly not wanting to finish yet with you. You held onto his shoulders tightly, pressed your legs into his body, Chan knew you were close so he encouraged you, with a kiss on your mouth half open and words that warmed even your ears:

“Go on, cum, princess, let yourself go… Cum for me.”

You gasped in despair and a little high-pitched moan, you cum all over your panties, leaving you flushed, breathless and with your pussy sticky. Seconds later you wanted to catch your breath, you still felt immobile before his big hands squeezing your body, you were at levels of agitation you didn’t think you’d reach in the near future with another guy.

Chan also had his breath hitching, yet the thought of still not even remotely finishing with you came back to him, reflecting a smile on his face.

“Let me take care of you, okay?”

You looked at him with big pitying eyes which drove him crazy. Chan thought about the idea of your pussy a little battered from being in constant motion with the hard friction of his clothes, he wanted to treat and tend to your sensitive center, now, he needed it.

“Yes, Chan.”

“That’s my good girl” he said proudly, shuddering every inch of you, you felt so good he said little things to you, “Where are you most comfortable, baby? Huh.”

You looked at him for only short seconds, you were so excited and filled with the accelerated feeling not knowing what his next moves would be on you, you were more than willing for anything, for him to take you and fuck you, you just wanted to be filled with that sensation again and more with someone like Chan, who looked so sure of what he was doing and looked so fucking good doing it and in a mode of excitement and pleasure, every part of him was transpiring sex and you were losing your mind little by little.

“In my room, in the hallway of…”

You weren’t even finished, when Chan stood up, carrying you, grabbing your ass and carrying you to your room where he left you sitting on one of the edges of the bed, your feet touching the floor, he positioned himself on his knees in front of you.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?” he said again, once more so excited, about nothing short of taking your clothes off.

“Yes, Chan, p-please.”

You were so needy again, you wanted to be filled with the extreme sensation that seemed to have no end. He smiled.

“I’m going to take off your tiny shorts and panties, yes sweetie?”

You nodded, excited and nervous that he is about to see your private part, but it was throbbing intensely, it was again getting more lubricated and wanted to be treated with attention. Chan tugged at your shorts and panties at the same time, impatient to taste you and merely seeking your pleasure.

He slid the garments down your legs until they were off and admired your wet, glistening pussy, somehow it looked slightly swollen, begging to be attended to and touched.

“You try hard and work hard, you deserve to get your stress off, let me do it…”

Chan said it, in such a thick voice so lost in the image of your pussy. You were so nervous, almost wanting to shiver but you moaned as you felt his lips on the skin of your mons pubis, giving you kisses and leaving little hickeys, nibbling the area, until his mouth took your clit, making you squeal; you were beginning to relax and let yourself be carried away by the tingling of the tip of his index finger caressing your soft, moist vulva, playing with your wetness, until two of his fingers teased your entrance until he inserted his fingers, while his mouth never let go of your sensitive spot, licking and sucking it gently, causing you pleasure and the beginning of trembling in your legs.

Chan fucked you gently and deeply for a few moments, teasing you and reaching sweet places inside your tight pussy, but he withdrew his fingers from you, positioned both his hands on your thighs, squeezing them gently and began to move his mouth all the way down your vulva, licking the right places, sucking delightfully on your labia and filling himself with you, from his chin to his nose, so focused working on you. You felt so hot, somehow he looked so good eating you out while you were a panting mess, arching your back and being pleasured.

He stroked your clit again and sucked gently but with moderate intensity, humming mmm, that caused a sweet vibration in you, you were feeling so good you could feel your second orgasm again. Chan parted your folds so he could rub his mouth better inside them, you were so satisfied you thought of the myth that college boys didn’t know how to eat pussy, but no one like Chan, doing it so expertly he had you soaking wet, whimpering and shivering just with his lips, tongue, and mouth. He moved inches away from your pussy, to spread your entrance with his hand and insert his tongue deep. At the same time, his finger again caressed your clit, bringing you to orgasm, contracting your legs, being careful with him between them, arching your back, and in a loud moan calling out his name, the great sexual tension built up was released with his mouth on your pussy.

Chan didn’t stop working on you until he stopped feeling your last intense trembling and stopped watching your body collapse until it became softer tremors and he smiled. He didn’t think he could leave you alone for now, let alone finish the project now that you were just starting, but right now, his satisfaction was to fulfill his goal, by making you feel good and de-stress a little because you were worth it and deserved it. He was there to give you a good time.

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

𐙚TAGLIST: @khandzilla @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk @lolareadsimagines

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid? 

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it. 

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream. 

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased. 

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea. 

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion. 

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side. 

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out). 

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you. 

There was no way. 

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure. 

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan. 

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention. 

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger. 

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak. 

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.” 

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?” 

Stupid reddit post. 

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ” 

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him? 

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.” 

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend. 

He was doomed. 

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.” 

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent. 

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.” 

“Oh.” 

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip. 

Lando looked stuck. 

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out. 

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.” 

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted. 

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume. 

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.” 

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.” 

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming. 

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable. 

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.” 

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled. 

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.” 

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles. 

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun. 

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?” 

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no. 

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.” 

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo. 

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?” 

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job. 

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando. 

Low-and-behold, you did. 

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch. 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants. 

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.” 

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit. 

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along. 

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app. 

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up. 

But you didn’t.  

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way. 

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray. 

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts. 

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.” 

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest. 

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?” 

Oh, so you knew how to play. 

Luckily for Lando, so did he. 

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink. 

You were internally freaking out. 

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. 

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area. 

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same. 

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.” 

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.” 

There was a lingering silence before you broke it. 

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend. 

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again. 

“Y/n! Wait!” 

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out. 

“Can I have your number?” 

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end. 

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back. 

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away. 

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after. 

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you. 

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could. 

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!” 

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber. 

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡” 

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory. 

The giant-ass “4.” 

“Shit.” 

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

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[no-144444]

Mark my words.- o.piastri

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summary: mark slips up about your marriage.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! rb!mechanic! wife! reader

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He crossed the finish line, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face. Sure, Checo had crashed in the last lap and Max had gotten p6. Not a good result, but then again, that’s what you had told Christian would happen if he didn’t let you build the car. 

You were Adrian’s protege. You were the next Newey. Christian was just too focused on the past. 

“Fuck!” he groaned, slamming his headset on the desk. 

“I told you so,” you sighed, leaving him at the desk and running to the parc fermé. Oscar would be coming through in mere minutes, and you wanted to be there to see him. Secretly dating another team’s driver wasn’t easy, but you two made it work. You were both lowkey about things, even though you’d been married for about a year now. You stood beside Nicole, far away from your own team, but you didn’t really care. You wanted to see the light in his eyes when he came up to his mum and you. 

Nicole wrapped her arms around you, cheering as you both relived the moment that Oscar had won. Oscar Piastri, 2 time Gran Prix winner. He’d proven himself time and time again, he wasn’t a second driver, and McLaren now had a difficult choice to make. 

But all that was for another day. Today was about Oscar. 

He ran over to the team, finally spotting his mum and you beside her. You could see from his eyes that he was smiling. She pulled him into a tight hug. 

“You did it!” she cheered, holding him close. “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulled off his helmet, smiling at her. “Thanks mum, love you loads,” he smiled, then turned his attention to you. “Not bad, eh?”

You smirked. “Not bad Piastri.”

“Not bad for you either, Piastri,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. 

“Go get weighed idiot, I’ll catch you in the airport, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t miss you for the world,” he winked, then walked off to continue the celebrations. 

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You woke up the next morning, sore, with Oscar beside you. You groaned as you turned over, shutting off his alarm. “Osc,” you yawned. 

“Shush,” he whispered. “Five more minutes.”

“Oscar, we need to get up,” you reminded him, but he just tightened his grip on your waist. “Come on Osc, I need a shower.”

He smirked and you rolled your eyes, not missing his innuendo. “I could-”

“We did enough of that last night, give me time to recover,” you laughed. “Worth a shot,” he smiled. “Alright, I’ll start on some breakfast.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a sweet greeting (also short because his breath stinks in the morning) and you went your separate ways. This weekend was Singapore, and you knew how tough it was on every driver, engineer, and mechanic. Singapore was always the race you dreaded. It was unpredictable and hot. Way too hot. 

You came out of the shower to see Oscar pacing the kitchen, on the phone with a very stressed Mark. “No I understand that, but I thought they wouldn’t hear us… I-I didn’t mean to-“

“Oscar, it’s too late mate. You’d better just come out with it, or get your mum to, or something. People are getting really confused and they think Y/n is your sister or something,” Mark sighed

You burst out laughing, making Oscar laugh. 

“They think we’re siblings?” you laughed. “What the fuck?”

“You did call her ‘Piastri’ to be fair mate,” Mark chuckled.

“Well that is her second name!” he defended.

“Osc, just post our wedding photos or something,” you shrugged. “Or we could just let people speculate.”

“Sorry baby, but I don’t really love the idea of people thinking you’re one of my sisters,” he mocked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. 

You shrugged, grabbing a piece of toast he'd made you. “I don’t care, I’m just an insignificant engineer from RedBull.”

He rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re so helpful,” he responded sarcastically.

“Using sarcasm as a defence mechanism because you don’t want to admit you’re the breadwinner of the family? How humble and noble of you,” you laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek and squeezing his ass, making him jump. 

“I hate it when you do that,” he scoffed, batting your hand away. You knew he loved it. 

“Anyways, what’s our action plan lads?” Mark asked. 

“Up to you,” you shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Will I post on twitter and act like it’s been common knowledge?” He suggested.

“Mate, no one would believe that. You’re known for keeping things secret and being nonchalant, just do that,” Mark laughed. 

“Sounds good to me,” you nodded. “Thanks Mark.”

“See you in Singapore,” he sighed and you grained as Oscar hung up the phone. 

“Fucking Singapore,” you groaned. 

“I know,” he nodded in agreement. “Hopefully this year I won’t be as ill.”

“Let’s fucking hope so,” you smoothed down his hair. “You need to start brushing your hair baby. It’s so awful in the mornings.”

His lips became a line and he nodded. “Humbling me isn’t always necessary,” he breathed out and wrapped his arms around you, grabbing your ass as he pressed kisses on your face and neck. “But it is appreciated,” he finished sarcastically, as you pushed him off giggling. 

“You’d appreciate it more if you took the advice,” you muttered, taking a bite of your toast. 

He shook his head, chuckling. “How’d I get so lucky?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

You shrugged. “By using the dark arts?” you teased and he just laughed. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You walked into the Singapore paddock with Lando, deep in conversation about his upcoming birthday party. You usually weren’t photographed all that often in the paddock, and when you were, it’s usually because you were beside a driver or someone more important, mostly because you were known to ruin photos. Holding up your middle finger, threatening to flash the camera, etc, it’s what has made you a Gen Z favourite. You also refused to go up on the podium, no matter how many times Max asked. You were pretty low-key about everything, it worked well. 

“So I was definitely thinking a DJ, but what about the dress code? Should it be casual? Business casual? Black tie?” he questioned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Club attire Lando, it’s being held at a club, let people dress like they’re going to a club.”

He nodded, as if he’d never thought of that. “You’re a genius!”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you sighed as he walked off to the McLaren motorhome. 

You walked off to the RedBull motorhome, noticing more cameras on you than normal. Most people just left you alone, it wasn’t often that the camera followed you (mostly because of your aforementioned behaviour), but tonight they wouldn’t let up. 

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Even as you sat in the pitlane, chatting to Daniel, you were still being recorded. 

“Do you know what this whole thing is about?” you asked Daniel and he looked at you like you were crazy. 

“Have you not seen what Mark posted?” he asked, his eyes wide. 

“What the fuck did he post?” you asked, rushing to get your phone out. 

And there it was. Mark had announced it for you. 

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aussiegrit

tagged: oscarpiastri , reallyy/n

Liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen and 872,928 others

aussiegrit: These two crazy kids were too busy being in love (and winning races) to tell you guys that they’re married! Love you two xxx

comments

alexalbon: oh oscar’s going to go mad.

landonorris: marks time of death: now.

oscarpiastri: I WANTED TO POST FIRST

oscarpiastri: THIS SHIT IS UNFAIR. FUCK YOU MARK -> reallyy/n: someone will be sent to the stewards if you don't stop with the language...

pierregasly: it still freaks me out that they're MARRIED and 22 and 23. like wtf. -> kikagomez: 👀 -> pierregasly: ... -> user82: SHE CLOCKED YOU I FEAR

user93: I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS (no i'm not.)

user22: THIS IS SO ADORABLE WTF

sebvettel: good memories! officiating was such a blast! -> user883: SEB OFFICIATED? -> user21: it makes sense, y/n has been super close with the schumachers and seb since she was a kid because of her dads job as a mechanic in f1. he worked for ferrari from the 1980s to around 2015. -> user02: LORE DROP?????

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“That dickhead!” you cursed. “I’m going to go find Osc, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded and sent you on your way. You had to tell Oscar, he definitely didn’t know yet, right? He was going to lose it at Mark, he wanted to be the one to post, he wan-

And you walked into someone. Someone wearing papaya. Oscar wearing papaya. Oscar. 

“Did you see?!” “Did you see?!”

You both chuckled, then remembered the situation. 

“I’ll kill him for you if you want?” you offered and he just smiled. 

“It had to come out somehow,” he shrugged. “Though, those aren’t the pictures I’d pick.” 

“We all know what pictures you’d pick,” Lando interjected, winking at you. Oscar elbowed him. “I meant your wedding pictures!” “Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “Anyway, we can call him later and kill him together. Sounds good?” 

He nodded, wrapping a hand around your waist, the other landing on your ass. “Sounds great.” 

He quickly pressed his lips to yours, feeling all of the cameras on him, but still not caring. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you smiled before walking away, back to your conversation with Daniel. 

Mark was going to get murdered, that was just a fact. Mark your words.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[ellecdc]

The Bolter

Sirius Black x fem!reader who meet again [5.5k words]

prompt: poly!wolfstar or just Sirius x reader in which they were friends with benefits but it was obvious they loved each other even though they acted like they weren’t. Then, reader finds out shes pregnant and before telling them, they do something stupid. so reader runs away for a few months. When she comes back (only bc she had to for some reason) shes like 6-7 months pregnant

CW: secret pregnancy, angst, FWB to strangers to lovers, second chance fic, post war trauma, both Sirius and reader are meeesssssssssssyyyyy in this! I don't approve of what they've done but I understand it

“So…she’s coming back?” Sirius asked cautiously, focusing more on the condensation pooling on the coaster underneath his pint than the concerned gazes of his two best friends. 

“Well, I don’t know if she’s coming back, but she’ll be here for Harry’s birthday.” James mollified, sharing a nervous look with Remus.

“Right.” Sirius murmured around a swallow; throat tight and dry though neither the pint nor the pitcher of water in front of him looked as though they’d be able to help him with the matter. 

“Are you going to be alright?” Remus queried, and Sirius offered him the most arrogant scoff he could muster; he missed by a long shot.

“Of course I’m going to be alright.” He huffed. “Why? Can’t two friends see each other after five and a half months of silence?” 

“Sirius-” James started, but Sirius carried on. 

“She’s the only one who’s been silent, you know?” Though he knew that they did indeed both know. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried reaching out.” 

“Pads.” Remus offered consolingly, looking frustratingly like he was going to reach a hand out to Sirius as if he were some over tired toddler on the brink of a meltdown.

“Stop, no I- I’m fine, honest.” He insisted as he took a steadying breath. “I- you… talked to her, then?”

James and Remus shared another look before James allowed the segue. 

“Mostly by owl, but she has spoken on the phone with Lily a few times.” 

Sirius nodded as he considered this; considered the number of owls Sirius had sent that had gone unanswered - perhaps even unopened if the silence meant anything at all.

“She’s…okay?” 

Remus let out a sigh as he shot Sirius a tight smile that looked more like a grimace. “She’s…vague.”

“She doesn’t share a whole lot.” James agreed. “Says she’s fine, things are good. Mostly asks about…all of us, Harry.” 

“She’s still staying with that great aunt,” Remus added, “helping her with the property.” 

“She seeing anyone?” There was no point in pretending that wasn’t the most pressing matter in Sirius’ mind; of course it was. And as angry and bitter as the idea made Sirius, it would have been his own fault, his own doing. He had no one to blame but himself. 

And he’d have to live the rest of his life knowing he was the one who let you slip away - pushed you away - right into the arms of someone else. 

“Not that she’s mentioned.” Remus responded honestly; he couldn’t say for sure that you weren’t, but if you were, you clearly hadn’t said anything about it. 

“Right.” Sirius offered shortly. 

“Pads, I…we would understand if it's too hard for you to see her. If you can’t come-”

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius scoffed deploringly. “I’m not going to miss my godson’s birthday. If anyone should be missing it, it should be her; I’ve been here for the past four and a half months, she’s the one who fucked off for good.”

“Sirius-”

“I don’t understand why you had to invite her!” Sirius shouted then, startling even himself when he realised how breathless he sounded all of a sudden. 

James smiled at him sadly; Sirius wished he’d stop doing that. “We wanted all of Harry’s uncles and his aunt to be there, Sirius…it’s important, yeah? We…we almost didn’t get this chance.”

Sirius could feel a wicked migraine coming on; between talking about you, the close calls and the fact that the group of you were all alive following the war by nothing but chance, and the fact that the person Sirius was most angry with was himself, he downed the rest of his pint and flagged the server in favour of having to look at the pitiful gazes being shot at him by Remus and James.

Sirius couldn’t tell if he was eager for Harry’s second birthday or dreading it. But like it or not, Sirius was going to be seeing you again. 

It had felt like a good idea at the time.

It felt beyond foolish now, but it had felt like a good idea at the time. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“Sirius, we just won. We just won, why do you have to leave now?” You practically begged as you followed Sirius through his flat. 

“Because if I don’t get out now, I’m going to be stuck here for eternity.” He all but spat at you as he shoved articles of clothing into his duffle rather haphazardly. You felt like grabbing the bag from him and folding them properly if the act wouldn’t leave you feeling like you were aiding and abetting his abandoning you.

“But what about James? And Remus? What about Harry? You fought this war for them, and they for you - we just got them back!”

“And they’ll be here when I’m ready to come home!” Sirius shouted; turning to look at you with wild, red rimmed eyes. 

“What about me?” You asked quietly, hating how small you sounded.

“What about you?” He asked; face falling painfully neutral. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was occluding. 

“I…I don’t know.” You started awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “I thought…maybe we’d have a chance now. To try?.”

“Y/N.” Sirius sighed as he rubbed harshly at his eyes; entire being oozed exhaustion at having to have this conversation with you. “Have I not been entirely clear about what this was between us?” 

“Right.” You agreed quickly, biting roughly on your lip and looking anywhere but at him as he let his hand fall away from his face. 

“It’s…it’s not you, doll-” but even your humourless scoff didn’t derail him “I’m not the kind to settle down and be content I- I wouldn’t be enough for you.”

“I’m not asking you for any more than what we have, Sirius-”

“Yes you are.”

“-I just want you to stay.”

“That’s too much for me.” He stated; his voice never raised though he may as well have screamed it at you. “I cannot sit here and play house, I cannot be that guy for you.”

“Cannot or will not?” You asked quietly, regretting the question the second it came out of your mouth and he looked at you with nothing but pity in his eyes. 

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry I asked.” You let out with a chuckle as you harshly wiped tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s…it’s not forever, yeah? I just…I can’t see myself being happy here…not right now, at least; not for a while.” 

“Where will you go?” Your voice grated painfully as it came out, but you tried to keep an air of nonchalance about you. You wouldn’t look at him, but you could see his shoulders shrug helplessly. 

“I don’t know…everywhere. Anywhere.”

Anywhere was better than stuck here with you, apparently. 

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is.” You offered, and you found that you meant it. As much as it hurt to say, you really, really meant it. Sirius had been fighting and running his entire life, and he finally won. If he wanted to celebrate his victory by taking off to be that rich, vague uncle who popped by with lavish gifts every so often, who were you to deny him? 

You loved him.

You were in love with him.

You loved him enough to let him go. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

He had sent James a postcard a few weeks later. Turns out he started in the South of France; his family had a home there that had been left untouched by the war, and Sirius was going to start by figuring out what to do with the property. 

And you? Well, you found out you were pregnant. 

You suppose it was a small mercy that Sirius wasn’t here to know; you’re sure it would have hurt more hearing him tell you he was leaving if there were two of you he couldn’t find it in him to love. You would have hated it even more if he felt trapped into staying with you just for this.

But all this meant was that you couldn’t stay, either. 

You supposed that was alright, though; the life you wanted to build here was with Sirius. You loved your friends, but you had a little one to think about now, too. 

You made up a story about a great aunt needing help tending to her property and wishing to be closer to your relatives now that you could be, now that it was safe. No one questioned it, likely because Remus had done the same following the war; moving back home to help his dad and ailing mother tend the property in whatever ways he could. 

You found yourself a little cottage, you wrote to the boys and had the occasional phone call with Lily, and you grew.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. 

But now you were almost six months pregnant and returning home for the first time since you moved to celebrate your nephew’s birthday with all of your closest friends, the love of your life whose child you were carrying, and none of them knew. 

You wondered if you should even go, but the thought of missing out on sweet Harry’s second birthday that the lot of you almost never got the chance to see made your throat constrict with tears you refused to shed since the war. 

You wondered if you should tell everyone before you arrived, but the thought of them all discussing you and your pregnancy without you being there left you feeling small and ashamed. 

You wondered if you should tell Sirius, but you looked over at the stack of unopened letters he had sent to you in the past four months - the first thin, perhaps a postcard, the second and third were thicker, the fourth was by far the thickest (like he had drafted an autobiography that he wanted you to proofread for him), the fifth was similar to the second, whilst the sixth (the last) couldn’t be more than one page - and wondered how the hell you’d even start that conversation after all this time.

Hey, remember me? Yeah, the bird who caught feelings during our friends with benefits situation that we both agreed would remain platonic amidst a battle for survival and then begged you to stay with no success? Well, whilst you’ve been off probably shagging every beautiful woman across the British Isles, I’ve been pregnant. Right, with your child. How was France, by the way? 

You swallowed around your gag reflex and groaned at your image in the mirror. You put on a pair of gingham pants with the baggiest band-tee you could find, planned on sucking in the best you could if anyone (when everyone) insisted on a hug and hoped to every deity that they all just assumed you’d been eating really well since the end of the war. 

You smoothed the fabric over your bump one last time before you left - looking at the proof that, if nothing else, you were protecting more than just yourself, and you let that be enough - before you grabbed Harry’s birthday present and called for Potter Manor, throwing a fistfull of floo powder into your fireplace and travelling by way of the flames. 

You could hear Harry squealing in delight in one of the adjacent rooms as you stepped into the floo reception room at Potter Manor; a smile taking over your face uninhibitedly at the sounds of the people you loved more than life itself, happy and celebrating.

How could you have gone so long without this? 

“Y/N!” Lily shrieked as she made for you, and you sucked in before returning her hug. “Merlin, you're glowing! Where’s your aunt's place again?” 

“Erm. Killarney.” You offered; not entirely untrue - you did have an aunt in Killarney. 

“Well,” she let out with a breath, eyes turning a touch glassy as they darted across your face, “it seems that Irish air’s been for you.” 

You smiled back at your friend before pulling her back in for another hug. “I’ve missed you, Lils.”

“Don’t let it go so long next time, yeah? We can come to you, too; I’m teaching James how to be a muggle, and Harry’s only had the odd burst of accidental magic yet. We could play the part in front of your aunt.” 

“I’d love that, Lily.” You responded earnestly. 

“Y/N!” James hollered then before you were being bodily tackled by the former quidditch chaser, a brief flash of anxiety at his hold around your stomach abating only when he relinquished his hold on you. “Where in the sodding hell have you been!?”

“Killarney.” Lily answered for you. 

“I love Killarney!” 

“Have you ever been to Killarney, Prongs?” Remus asked then, appearing in the door as he leaned against the archway. 

“No! But I love it there! I just know it!” 

“Hey Moony.” You greeted, quickly accepting his open arms and breathing him in.

“We’ve missed you.” He murmured into your hair, and you couldn’t help the traitorous hitch in your heart that he might’ve meant-

“Uncle Pafoo!” Harry squealed, suddenly standing right underneath you. 

“That’s right, Haz!” The voice that haunts your dreams called out. “Auntie is here!”

“Hullo, Harry!” You cheered as you picked him up, sucking in before settling on your hip. “Happy birthday, little dude.” 

“Am two!” He announced as he held up four fingers. 

“You are two! Way to go!” You laughed. “Is everyone here?” You asked the room, shooting Sirius a tight smile so you couldn’t be accused of hostility when your heart stuttered for an entirely different reason. 

He looked tired - a bone deep tired that no amount of sleep could rectify - and the bags under his eyes seemed to be chronic. But he was still so beautiful; his hair had grown slightly longer since the last time you’d seen it, the last time you’d run your fingers through it, the last time you’d brought sheers to it, and he donned more than a few new tattoos if the few you could see were enough to go by. 

You had to look away.

“Reg’s going to be by after work; his part-time student called in sick so he needed to be there to close the shop himself. Thankfully, they’re only open in the morning on Sunday’s.” Remus explained kindly.

“Good, it’ll be nice to see him.” You offered, and the room fell slightly awkward.

“Uncle Pafoo, aeroplane?” Harry asked then, and whatever exhaustion seemed to be plaguing Sirius vanished as he beamed at his godson. 

“Absolutely, little man!” He agreed, holding his arms out and taking Harry’s weight from you.

“Do you want something to drink, Y/N? Wine? Beer, Cider? Juice? Water?” James rapid fire, causing Lily to groan. 

“We just got her back, Potter. Do try to control yourself.” 

“Water would be great, Jamie. Thank you.” You laughed, following the group into the open concept kitchen-to-living room. 

Save the fact that you and Sirius seemed to be doing acrobatics to avoid each other, you were almost stunned at how easy and natural being back here felt. Regulus returned and the two of you shared friendly jibes, Lily caught you up on all of the drama at the Ministry, James strong armed you into agreeing to join them for their next pub quiz night, and Remus said that your old professors all wished you well. 

You loved your cottage - the home you’d built for yourself and your little one - but you found yourself feeling homesick for here, and you hadn’t even left yet.

You were leaning on your elbows against the kitchen island, watching Sirius and Regulus pretend to be knights in shining armour as they fought off a fire breathing dragon (Harry) to save the princess (James) when Remus appeared beside you and mirrored your stance. 

“It’s not the same without you, you know?” He murmured then. 

“But they seem to be alright.” You responded simply, and Remus allowed the two of you to fall into silence for a few beats.

“How far along are you?” 

You stood up straight and turned to stare at him in horror, only to see him smiling kindly at you. 

“How do you-”

“Lycanthropy - I could smell it on you.” He said with an embarrassed wrinkle of his nose. “I knew Lily was pregnant before she did.”

You shushed him and looked over your shoulder to ensure no one else could hear you.

“Come.” He said with a sigh, gently taking you by the elbow and ushering you out of the sliding doors to the back yard and closing it behind the two of you. 

“Remus-”

“Is it his?” He cut you off; his face held no judgement though perhaps just a touch of concern. For you or his best friend/virtual brother-in-law, you weren’t sure.

“Yes.” You whispered, not bothering to clarify who he was talking about; you both knew. 

Remus simply nodded as he looked you over. “Is that why you left?”

“He left first.” You hissed petulantly.

“He left you, but you left all of us.” Remus countered somewhat sternly. “Besides, I didn’t ask about him; is this why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because, Remus!” You shouted, tears flooding your vision as you turned to look at him. “Because he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want me. I wasn’t going to force him to come back just because… just because.” 

“Don’t you think he should have been able to make that choice for himself?” Remus asked gently.

“He chose! He did choose! He told me he couldn’t play house, he told me he couldn’t be this person for me. I loved him enough to accept that. I loved him enough to let him go.”

“Loved?” Remus asked with a tilt of his head. “Past tense?” 

“Remus.” You groaned. “Please.”

“He came back for you, you know.” Remus pointed out. “He left you, you left us, but he came back for you.” 

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, Y/N.”

“And so what if it is?” You nearly sobbed. “So what if he did, Remus? What can I do? I can’t go back in time and change my mind, I can’t go back and fix this. He made choices, I made choices, and here we are.” 

Remus heaved a sigh and looked at you sadly. “I don't think either of you realise that your choices don’t have to remain permanent; there can be an expiration date on them.” 

You were catching your breath from your mini temper tantrum when you heard the glass door slide open, both you and Remus turning to see Sirius standing there almost shy - far shier than you’d ever seen him before.  

“Just talk to him? Okay? You..don’t have to tell him now, just…talk to him.” Remus whispered before heading towards the door, clapping Sirius on the back before disappearing back into the house. 

“Hey.” Sirius offered cautiously after a few beats of silence, coming to stand beside you as the two of you looked over the railing of the patio to the rest of the manor grounds. 

“Hey.” You returned dumbly, clearing your throat before continuing. “You…you look good, Sirius.”

Sirius scoffed, and you could feel your shoulder rising before you saw him smirk at you - if not somewhat sadly - cutting you a playful glare from the corner of his eye. “Did you take up lying there in Ireland?” 

You let out a breathy half-laugh. “I’m not lying.” 

“Then you need glasses. I look like shite.”

“You look tired.” You amended. 

“I’m exhausted.” He agreed, and the two of you lapsed into silence. 

“You look good, though.” He continued. “Healthy.”

You hummed in agreement. “Funny what not having to run on rations and broken hours of sleep on military cots does for a person.”

“Why haven’t I heard from you, Y/N?” He blurted then, turning his entire body to face you. 

“Sirius, I-”

“Everyone else has. You’ve spoken to Lily on the phone. James and Remus have gotten letters. Even Reg got a postcard for his birthday.” 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage to say.

“I wrote to you.” He continued. “Letters, a lot. Did you get them?”

You nodded your head yes shamefully.

“Did you read them?”

You felt your heart splinter at how hopeful and heartbroken he sounded over it. You felt like scum of the earth when you shook your head no, and he let out a sigh.

“I guess that makes me feel a little bit better, then.” He said as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. 

You found yourself taking a step away from him when you asked “why does that make you feel better?”

He let out a humourless laugh that forced smoke from his lips. “At least now I know that my begging for a second chance, begging you to come home, professing my love for you isn’t what kept you away.”

“Sirius-”

“I messed up, Y/N.” He declared earnestly. “I…I was fucking scared, terrified. I’d spent so much of my life living with one foot on the threshold of hell that after the war, I didn’t know how to live amongst the undead.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as if he’d run all the way here just to tell you something. “And I ran. I bolted, I…”

“You left.” You finished for him. 

“I left.” He agreed. “I… I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“Didn’t know what?” You asked as you choked back tears.

“Didn’t know what I had, or what I wanted. Or that I had everything that I wanted.”

“And you do, now? You know what you want?” You asked, and a look of determination painted his features as he met your gaze head on.

“For my entire life, I had never known what family meant, so I wasn’t even aware that I’d created my own with all of you until I’d risked it all. I was so sure I didn’t want to be like my parents that I never realised I may actually…want to be a parent someday. I was so sure I didn’t want to be my father that I never realised I actually did want to be a partner someday. I was so certain I’d never know what true love felt like that I didn’t even realise I had it right here all along with you.” 

“Sirius-”

“I messed up. I left. But what I don’t understand is why you did. Or why you stayed away.” He took a step towards you with his cigarette long forgotten in one of his hands, the ash threatening to burn his fingers before you plucked it and stubbed it out on the stone railing. He barely flinched. “Why’d you go?”

“I didn’t want to sit around and wait for you, Sirius. I- it hurt, I was hurt. And then-”

“I’m sorry.” He offered quickly, but you shook your head.

“I’m not telling you this for you to be sorry, I just-”

“I came back for you.”

“But it wasn’t just about me anymore, Sirius!” You shouted then, and you watched his brows furrow before his face fell in horror. 

“You’re seeing someone.” He asked, though he phrased it as more of a statement; like he’d been expecting it.

“I’m not seeing anyone, Sirius.” You sighed.

“Then why’d you leave? Why’d you stay away?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You blurted, and Sirius fell silent. “I’m almost six months pregnant.”

“Six-” He started, eyes falling to your stomach still hidden behind the baggy article of clothing before you smoothed the fabric over your ever rounding bump. “Six months. Six…”

You let him do the maths in the head as he stared hard at your stomach like he was sitting in divination and it was a crystal ball that might just give him the answers if only he stared at it long enough.

“It’s mine?” He finally concluded.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“It’s mine. You’re pregnant, it’s mine.” He murmured, before his eyes met yours again. “You’re pregnant with my child?”

“Right.” You agreed, and he crumpled to a heap on the floor. 

“Sirius Orion Black,” Sirius heard Remus hiss, clearly hovering somewhere over him, “I swear to Godric if you do not wake up and eat some of this godsdamned vanilla cake you bought, your brother is going to skin you alive.” 

“It’s true.” James agreed from somewhere on Sirius’ other side. “He actually ran to the store when he found out you bought vanilla because he knew Remus wouldn’t eat any of it. Remus is going to get his chocolate cake, and you’re going to get egged.” 

“Shut up.” Sirius hissed as he scrunched his eyes closed. “Fuck.”

“How do you feel, mate?” James asked rather jovially as he clapped him roughy on the shoulder.

“Like hell.”

“Why’s that?” Remus joined in.

“Because I was in the middle of a dream and you sods woke me up going on about cake.” He muttered as he opened his eyes, realising then that he’d been propped up on a number of cushions in one of Lily and James’ spare rooms.

“S’he awake?” Lily whispered, and Sirius craned his neck to see you and Lily poke your heads into the room.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed as he sat up, likely far too fast for someone who fell unconscious mere moments ago. “Oh my gods, you’re actually here?” 

“Did you hit your head, mate?” James asked as he prodded at Sirius’ head, causing Sirius to swat his arms away as he shifted towards the edge of the bed.

“You’re here.” He whispered as you slowly made your way into the room.

“I’m here.” You offered cautiously, eyes darting around at your oldest friends like there might be some secret threat lurking in the room.

“You’re pregnant…” He tried then, punching the air right out of Lily and James who both spun to stare at you in shock.

You smoothed the fabric of your shirt over your midsection again to expose a very obvious (now that everyone could actually see it) baby bump. 

“Oh my gods!” Lily and James chorused, causing Remus to snort.

“You knew, didn’t you!?” Lily accused Remus who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Only when she walked in, and not a second sooner.” 

“With my child.” Sirius continued, and you nodded at him. 

“Y/N.” Lily winced. “You-”

“You sodding scared me!” You shrilled then, grabbing one of the throw pillows James had dumped onto the ground to make room for Sirius and swinging it at him.

“I scared you!?” Sirius shrieked right back, much to the delight of Harry who started banging on the throw pillow that had landed beside him. 

“I thought I killed you!”

“Oh, well I’m terribly sorry that finding out the woman I’ve been in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months - who was missing for all intents and purposes, may I remind you - is pregnant with my child happened to be a little shocking.” Sirius sneered sarcastically. 

“Well I only went ‘missing’ because the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for years and pining hopelessly over for months took off an-” The abrupt end of your statement nearly gave the room whiplash as you cut yourself off mid sentence and stared at Sirius like you’d never seen him before. 

“What…what just happened?” James whispered carefully.

“Years?” You whispered then, and Sirius hated every version of himself that deigned to let you go without knowing just how loved you were.

“Probably when we were still just cosmic dust.” Sirius smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t always realise, I’m sorry I didn’t make sure that you knew.”

“I take it to guess there isn’t an aunt in Killarney?” Lily offered then, smiling kindly at you when you turned your attention towards her.

“No, I- I think there actually is an aunt in Killarney, I just don’t live with her.”

“Where do you live?” Sirius asked eagerly, wondering if you could hear it in his voice or even see on his face just how desperate he was to know everything about you.

“Near Tintagel.” You offered abashedly as Remus slapped his hand on his thigh.

“You minx!” He scolded you. “You lived basically across the channel from me this whole time!”

“I hope it’s nice, wherever it is��� You offered him then, smiling through your tears as Sirius swallowed around his bile threatening its way up his oesophagus.

“I hope it’s nice.” Sirius blurted suddenly, and Sirius thanked the heavens for Remus John Lupin who seemed to understand that the conversation delved beyond the need of an audience, scooping Harry up and closing the door behind Lily, James, and himself to give you two some privacy. 

“It’s nice.” You offered wetly. “It’s quiet.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement. “In Tintagel, near Merlin’s cave?”

You laughed, which saw Sirius smiling. “I’m not right in Tintagel, just outside. My neighbours are mostly sheep.” 

“Does it have a picket fence?”

“To keep the sheep out of my garden.” You nodded with a smile.

“Flowers; lots of them.” Sirius deduced, you nodded again though Sirius watched your smile falter.

“You’d probably hate it.”

“Are you there?” He asked quickly.

“Well, usually, yes.” You offered, and Sirius shrugged easily.

“Sounds as though it might be my favourite place in the world, then.” 

The next breath that left you shuddered on its way out, and Sirius finally stood and met you in the middle of the room; close enough to touch but not daring to. He hadn’t earned that right yet. 

“Take me with you?” He all but begged then, and your face crumpled in misery.

“Sirius, I don’t want you to follow me because you have to, I-”

“I don’t have to though, I know I don’t; I know you’d never make me.” He assured you then, lifting a hand but pausing to wait for you to nod at him before he placed it on your upper arm. “The letters, Y/N, I- I’ve been looking for you for months.”

A sob tore through you as you lowered your head, and Sirius allowed himself to catch it in his free hand. 

“I don’t want you to feel bad; I’m not telling you so that you feel bad, love.” The endearment falling off his tongue so easily now that he had you in his arms. “But I need you to know that I want you - any of you, all of you - and have for a very long time.” 

“It’s just…you said-” and Sirius knew exactly what he said; he had played that conversation over and over and over in his mind until he found himself sick over it more than once. But we waited for you to tell him anyhow; he’d always wait for you. “You couldn’t settle down and be content, you couldn’t play house; you weren’t that kind of guy.” 

“I know, doll. I know.” He whispered. “I…I didn’t think I was capable of it. I didn’t think I deserved everything I wanted and I knew that you deserved better. That you deserve better.”

“But?”

“But I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life trying to prove you otherwise; trying to give you everything you deserve.”

“Sirius…” You sighed, and Sirius could see your walls cracking. “I…I’m-”

“Take me home? Please?” He begged then, words interrupted by a sob of his own. “To Tintagel, to Killarney, to bloody fucking Azkaban or the bottom of the sodding ocean, I don’t care where it is just as long as it’s with you, please. Please.”

Your hands landed on Sirius’ chest and he was sure you could feel his hummingbird heart beating under your fingertips. He only hoped you knew how it beat for you. 

“Please bring me home?”

James didn’t know if he could consider this a success or not. 

His motivation was not singular; it was a ‘hit two fairies with one gobstone’ sort of scenario, so to speak. Was his son turning two? Indeed he was! Was James throwing a party for said son’s birthday? You’re damned right he was. But was it also a really good excuse to force two of his idiot best friends into the same room again? Absolutely.

Except James seems to have gotten slightly more than he bargained for; Sirius falling unconscious in his childhood backyard, you sobbing into Lily’s shoulder out in the hallway as he and Remus tried to bring him back from the dead, Remus sneering at a slice of birthday cake like it personally offended him and Regulus threatening to defend his boyfriend’s honour, and - apparently - a new niece or nephew coming in the next three-ish months. 

But when he looked over to see you and Sirius emerging from the spare room - both of your faces tear stained and puffy from the grief and torment you no doubt put yourselves through - hands intertwined between your bodies and your hand resting protectively over your growing bump, and a spark in Sirius’ eyes James had thought he lost in the war but now realised he only lost when he lost you…

…yeah, James figured he could probably consider this a success.

[schrodingerscougar]

Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.

Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.

For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.

The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.

He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.

“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”

That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”

You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.

“What got you thinking so hard?”

Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.

“Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”

It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.

Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.

He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.

When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.

As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.

You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.

“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”

With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”

Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.

“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Going To The Chapel | Arthur Leclerc x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into life with Arthur Leclerc since your engagement. 

Warnings: Fluff. Marriage. Pregnancy. Suggestive comments

Requested: Yes by @1800-love-me . requested newlyweds/new dad arthur

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln i had the most amazing weekend with my girls. thank you for planning such a relaxing time away. only one week left until i marry the love of my life  tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, bestfriend, charlotte2304

1,617 comments 

charles_leclerc i’m still disappointed that i wasn’t invited :( 

→ alexandrasaintmleux you had a bachelor party to go to, mon coeur 

→ charles_leclerc yeah but they didn’t have matching robes

→ arthur_leclerc i offered to wear matching underwear with you? 

bestfriend thank you for not saying “only one week until you marry your best friend” because i would’ve had to kill myself, and then you 

→ yn_ln oh

arthur_leclerc my beautiful girl. i cannot wait to marry you 

→ yn_ln counting down the days until i can call myself your wife 

→ user1 ugh, i need a love like these two 

alexandrasaintmleux you’re going to make the most beautiful bride 

→ yn_ln once i work off the hangover you inflicted on me

→ alexandrasaintmleux you didn’t have to keep drinking the prosecco

→ yn_ln you didn’t have to keep topping my glass up! 

→ bestfriend she was getting you drunk enough that you would agree to run away with her and not marry arthur

→ arthur_leclerc hey! 

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc a day full of tears and joy. i’m so proud of you, little brother. and beautiful yn, you have been part of this family since arthur first brought you home to us but now we can officially call you leclerc 🤍

5,516 comments

user2 love how he posted an individual pic of yn but not his brother 

→ yn_ln i’m the family favourite out of the two of us 

→ arthur_leclerc i would disagree but you are my favourite 

user3 i love how close charles would’ve had to get for that veil pic

→ alexandrasaintmleux we did have to keep dragging him away from them  

→ charles_leclerc i’m just so happy! 

francisca.cgomes the most beautiful bride 

user4 i love that photo of the two of them sat at the table together 

→ charles_leclerc thank you. i had to sneak back to get it but it was just the two of them in their own little world 

→ yn_ln i was telling him how desperate i was to get out of my dress

→ user5 and he was telling you how desperate he was to get you out of your dress?

→ arthur_leclerc yes

lorenzotl i love you both so much. welcome to the family, yn 🩷

user6 oh okay. this has reminded me of how alone i am 

user7 the cutest couple! 

yn_leclerc just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and others

yn_leclerc sand, sea and a new surname 🏖️

2,347 comments

user8 she changed her name! 

charles_leclerc did you do anything other than kiss? geez 

→ pierregasly it’s their honeymoon. i bet they did a lot more than kiss 

→ charles_leclerc ew

user9 look, we all know you spent the honeymoon shagging each other but you didn’t need to post proof

→ user10 and to think these are the photos they thought were acceptable to share liked by yn_leclerc 

arthur_leclerc my favourite place will always be beside you 

→ yn_leclerc i may not let you leave

→ oscarpiastri married arthur is a cheesy arthur 

alexandrasaintmleux i’m loving these photos! 

→ yn_leclerc maybe you should be next 

→ charles_leclerc don’t give her ideas! 

user11 oh a leclerc thirst trap was not what i was expecting 

user12 is this pr approved? 

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arthur_leclerc just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, pierregasly and others

arthur_leclerc coming soon. baby leclerc

3,549 comments

alexandrasaintmleux i’m so excited for baby leclerc to arrive. is it bad that i’ve already bought loads of clothes?

→ charlotte2304 competing for favourite aunty already, i see

→ yn_leclerc favourite aunty will be whichever one of you gets me a drink first when baby is here

user1 the charles leclerc project is happening 

→ scuderiaferrari we are already having a mini f1 car made 

user2 you’ve only been married 6 months

→ user2 oh

→ user3 honeymoon baby 

charles_leclerc i’m so glad you finally told people. the amount of baby ferrari gear i’ve had made that i have wanted to post 

charles_leclerc i am going to make the best uncle

→ lorenzotl *second best uncle

yn_leclerc i didn’t realise having a baby was going to create a leclerc civil war 

landonorris that is more of your wife than i wanted to see 

→ arthur_leclerc just say congrats, mate

oscarpiastri i guess this means our affair is over

user4 somebody enjoyed their honeymoon a little too much 

arthur_leclerc just posted

liked by logansargeant, scuderiaferrari and others

arthur_leclerc our baby girl was born late last night. she is happy and healthy, and yn is doing well

4,478 comments 

yn_leclerc i love you, mon amour. i couldn't have done this without you

→ arthur_leclerc thank you for blessing me with the most amazing family

charles_leclerc can confirm, she also smells so good

alexandrasaintmleux she’s wearing the little booties i bought! please give baby and yn a huge hug from me

→ user5 you don’t get to meet baby?

→ alexandrasaintmleux i’m not currently in monaco but visiting them will be the first thing i do when i’m back

user6 girl dad arthur incoming! 

charlotte2304 missing those baby cuddles already 

→ yn_leclerc we’re home tomorrow so please come over 

→ yn_leclerc you can cuddle baby whilst i have a wash 😂

user7 a baby girl! 

francisca.cgomes you put my giraffe in the bed with her 🥹

→ pierregasly don’t let her meet baby leclerc, please. i’ve only just gotten her a puppy 

→ yn_leclerc oh but how cute would a baby gasly be! 

→ pierregasly no!

→ arthur_leclerc nobody warns you that your wife will be broody again the second she’s had a baby

→ yn_leclerc excuse me, i think you mean no one warns you that your husband will be begging you for a second baby

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yn_leclerc just posted

liked by francisca.cgomes, carlossainz55 and others

yn_leclerc in honour of mon bébé turning 1 yesterday, please enjoy some snippets of this past year. it has been both exhausting and incredible, and i couldn't have done it without my amazing family

2,091 comments

charles_leclerc i can’t believe my niece is one already. she’s growing too fast 

→ arthur_leclerc which is why we should have a second one

→ charles_leclerc yes! that is a great idea

→ yn_ln this is why i don’t leave the two of you alone with her anymore

user8 that pic of arthur and baby leclerc sleeping?! never wanted kids before but now

→ user9 like he was cute before but now he’s a dilf?

→ yn_leclerc i can’t believe i just had to read that 

→ arthur_leclerc you called me a dilf last night?

alexandrasaintmleux being aunty alex this past year has been the best part of my adult life 

→ yn_ln you can take her for the week if you like. she’s teething so…

→ user10 haha this is so real if you’re a mum 

pierregasly who let charles wear that goofy hat 

user11 omg charles and baby leclerc though 

arthur_leclerc why have you never shown me that photo of us sleeping! she’s literally smiling in her sleep from my cuddles! mon coeur! how could you keep this from me

arthur_leclerc what other photos have you been keeping from me

arthur_leclerc i’m not helping you make a second one until you show me all the photos 

→ yn_leclerc does that mean i get a break from you?

→ arthur_leclerc now people are going to think i mount you all the time

→ charles_leclerc ew why did you word it that way liked by yn_leclerc 

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requests are open

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

[dollgxtz]

Trick or...Temptation?

Word Count: 9.8k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, pet play if u squint, creampie, biting, rough sex, pet names like kitten, sweetie, penetration, cunninlingus, i wanted to make this a vampire!sylus fic so bad but I got nervous lmao but theres slight mentions of him :3

AN: Happy Halloween everyone! I sincerely hope u all enjoy this, it was super fun to write! I rushed to finish this so I could post it exactly on Halloween. Enjoy!

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?” You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

“Come oooon! It’ll be so much fun!” Tara exclaimed, trailing behind you as you both walked out of work. The day had ended early thanks to the holiday, and while most people had exciting Halloween plans, you had opted for a quiet night in with a scary movie marathon. Of course, your enthusiastic coworker had other ideas for you.

“Tara, as much as I’d love to, it’s really just not my scene, you know? Maybe next year?” you tried, hoping to dodge her invitation once again.

“You always say that!” Tara pouted, her voice pleading as she quickened her pace to walk beside you. “Please? It’ll be fun! Just a few hours, a couple of drinks, a little dancing, and we can leave! Deal? It’s a festival, for crying out loud! I don’t want to go by myself.”

You glanced at Tara, her eyes wide and shimmering with that classic puppy-dog look she always gave you when she really wanted something. You couldn’t deny she had a point. It wasn’t like you had big plans for the night—just a quiet evening with a blanket and some popcorn. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to step out for a few hours, right?

“Fine,” you finally sighed, rolling your eyes but smiling a little. “But only for a few hours, and then I’m out.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, bestie!” Tara squealed, practically bouncing in excitement. “I’ll see you later tonight! You’re going to love it!”

And that was how you found yourself here, standing in front of your mirror, dressed in a skimpy cat costume. You adjusted the white miniskirt and tugged at the black corset top, making sure everything was in place. The cat ears perched on your head and the swishing tail added a playful touch, though the whole ensemble was definitely more revealing than you were used to. You sighed, resigned to your fate.

You didn’t have to stay long, you reminded yourself. Just a few hours, and then you could slip back into your original plan of movie night...hopefully without running into too much trouble.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, typing a quick message to Tara: On my way. Hitting send, you opened your ride-share app. If you were going to be drinking tonight, it was best not to drive yourself. The car arrived faster than you expected, and you slipped into the back seat, watching the city lights blur by as you mentally prepared yourself for the night ahead.

Arriving at the event, you stepped out of the car and immediately took in the scene. The park had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, bustling with life. String lights cast a soft, warm glow over the area, illuminating clusters of people already well into the party spirit. Bodies bumped together in rhythm with the pulsing beat of the music, and a mix of excited chatter and laughter filled the cool night air. The grass beneath your shoes was damp with evening dew, and the faint scent of autumn leaves and spiced drinks wafted through the crowd.

Everywhere you looked, Halloween-themed decorations adorned the space—carved pumpkins lined the walkways, some with goofy faces, others with intricate, eerie designs. Fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing skeletons and witch hats dangled from makeshift booths. There was an excitement in the air, palpable and contagious, though you still felt a little out of place.

Your eyes wandered toward the bar at the far end of the festival grounds. It was busy, but it was exactly what you needed. Liquid courage, you thought. If you were going to make it through the night, a drink or two would certainly help take the edge off. You made a beeline for it, weaving through the crowd, your thoughts focused on what your first drink would be—something strong, something to help you loosen up.

Just as you were about to make your escape, a high-pitched squeal cut through the music, and you barely had time to turn before you saw her—Tara, dressed in her fairy costume, wings glittering under the lights, barreling toward you at full speed.

“You’re here!!” she cried, wrapping you in an excited hug before you could even react. “Oh my God, I thought for sure you’d bailed or fallen asleep or something!”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “Yeah, well, you convinced me. I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” you said, shaking your head as you hugged her back, her energy instantly infectious.

Tara pulled back, her wide smile practically glowing. “Thank you soooo much for coming! I’m so excited, I can’t even—” she paused, looking you up and down, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You look amazing! That cat costume is sexy! Definitely a step up from your usual movie marathon at home, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit, this is...different,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your miniskirt. The cool night air reminded you just how short it was. But Tara was right—you didn’t do this often. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try something new tonight.

Tara, completely unfazed by your slight discomfort, grabbed your hand with excitement. “Alright, enough chatting. Let’s get some drinks! We’re here to have fun, and the night is young!”

She pulled you toward the bar, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It wasn’t your scene, but with Tara by your side, maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all. The thumping bass of the music, the swirl of costumes, and the faint buzz of excitement in the air already had you feeling a little lighter.

The two of you made your way through the crowd and finally approached the bar. It was busy, but not unbearable, with people lined up in various costumes, chatting, laughing, and ordering drinks. As you and Tara waited for your turn, she started rambling about all the new Halloween movies you two could watch later, once the festival was over.

“There’s this one that’s supposed to be so creepy! It’s about these haunted scarecrows that come to life—oh, and don’t even get me started on the one with the possessed doll…” Tara continued, her excitement infectious as she rattled off titles.

You nodded along, half-listening, your mind slightly wandering as you scanned the area. The lights flickered over the bar, casting an eerie glow on the bottles lined up behind the counter. The decorations were elaborate—fake cobwebs stretched across the bar shelves, and jack-o’-lanterns glowed faintly from the corners of the space. You were just starting to get lost in your thoughts when the bartender, a stunning blonde woman dressed in a witch costume, turned to you with a smile.

“Hi, can I get a—” you began, but you were abruptly cut off by a smooth, male voice behind you.

“I’ll get a Gin Fizz and two margaritas for the ladies,” the voice said with casual authority.

You froze for a moment, the sound of that voice sending a jolt down your spine. You spun around, and there he was.

Sylus.

Tall, effortlessly imposing, with his signature white hair catching the dim light and his crimson red eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, knowing glint. He wore a dark, sleek outfit that hugged his frame perfectly, making him stand out even in the crowd of costumes. His smile was just as confident and wicked as you remembered.

“Long time no see, kitten” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with amusement as he looked down at you, eyeing your costume.

Your stomach did a flip. Of all the people you could have run into tonight, Sylus was the last person you expected—or wanted—to see. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and now here he was, appearing out of nowhere like he always did, and immediately making your pulse quicken.

“Sy-I mean Skye?” you stammered, catching yourself as Tara turned around too, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of this tall, striking man. Her bright eyes went wide, and she started clapping her hands excitedly.

“Skye! I haven’t seen you since our team-building outing! How’s the fruit business?” she asked, her voice bright and friendly as she came to stand beside you, completely unaware of your racing heart.

Sylus—no, Skye—didn’t miss a beat. He flashed Tara an easy smile, looking as unruffled as ever. “Ah, the fruit business is...ripe as always,” he replied with a wink towards you, clearly enjoying the nervous look on your face.

The bartender cleared her throat, cutting through the tension. “There’s a line, folks,” she said with a polite but firm smile, nodding toward the queue of people waiting for their drinks. “Take your drinks and let the others through.”

You blinked, suddenly remembering where you were. Nervously, you reached for your margarita and handed Sylus his gin fizz, all while trying to calm the wild beating of your heart. The casual smirk on his face did nothing to help your nerves. With drinks in hand, you and Tara moved toward a quieter, empty spot at the edge of the festival, away from the bar's chaos. Sylus, of course, followed.

As soon as you settled into your spot, Sylus wasted no time, his teasing smirk never fading. His eyes roamed over your outfit—your skimpy black cat costume with the mini skirt, corset top, and cat ears—and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, he sauntered over, his smirk growing more wicked by the second. “You say you don’t want me calling you kitten, and yet here you are,” he drawled, letting his gaze sweep over your costume. “Dressed as one. How cute.”

You glared at him, already feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “Zip it...” you warned, rolling your eyes at the sheer irony of it all. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle slip past your lips. It was absurd, really. Of course, of all the costumes you could've picked it just had to be this one.

He just chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What are you even doing here?” you finally asked, your voice a little sharper than intended. “I thought you didn’t like crowded places.”

Sylus gave a soft laugh, leaning against a nearby post with his usual air of nonchalance. “I’m not a fan of crowds,” he admitted, his gaze flickering back to the sea of people dancing and drinking. “But I happen to own this little part of Linkon.” He said it so casually, as if it were no big deal. “Figured I’d make an appearance. Keep an eye on things.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Of course he did. Sylus always had a way of showing up in places you least expected him—places you thought you could escape from him, if only for a night. But owning part of the city? That was new.

But not surprising.

Tara, who had already downed her margarita, was clearly impressed. “Woah, Skye,” she slurred slightly, her eyes wide with admiration. “The fruit vendor business must pay soooo well.”

You shot her a look, silently willing her to stop talking, but she was already giggling, oblivious to the tension between you and Sylus. He, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything.

“What can I say?” Sylus replied smoothly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fresh fruit is forever in demand.” His eyes met yours again, clearly enjoying the joke that only the two of you understood.

You groaned inwardly, sipping more of your margarita as you glared at Sylus. He was playing along, effortlessly weaving his cover story about being a simple fruit vendor. And yet, there he was, owning half the city and standing in front of you, looking like he could control the whole damn world if he wanted to.

Sylus raised his glass in a mock toast, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. “Happy Halloween?” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well that this night was gonna be a loooong one.

Tara, always quick to notice things, suddenly glanced at Sylus with a playful frown. “Wait a second, Skye,” she said, squinting at him, “you’re not even in costume!” She giggled, rummaging through her bag, clearly not letting him off the hook. “This is a Halloween festival, after all. You’ve gotta dress the part!”

You internally groaned, already bracing yourself for whatever Tara had up her sleeve. But of course, she wasn’t about to disappoint. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a small plastic case from her bag and popped it open, revealing a pair of cheap, plastic vampire fangs.

“Here!” she said, holding them out to Sylus with a twinkle in her eye. “These will work perfectly. You’ve already got the whole pale, mysterious look going on. You’d make such a great vampire!”

You couldn’t help but glance at Sylus, your heart skipping a beat as you realized just how well Tara’s suggestion fit. His striking white hair, his sharp features, and those intense, crimson eyes...he really would make a disturbingly convincing vampire.

To your surprise—and mild horror—Sylus flashed a wicked grin, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “A vampire, huh?” he mused, taking the plastic fangs from Tara’s hand and inspecting them. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with that all-too-familiar mischief. “I guess I can pull that off.”

He slid the fake teeth into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish, and somehow, even with cheap plastic fangs, he managed to look both ridiculous and annoyingly attractive at the same time. He bared his new "fangs" with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“See?” Tara beamed, clapping her hands together. “I told you! You look like you’ve been doing this your whole life!”

Sylus smirked, turning his attention back to you, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone he always used to get under your skin. “I do make a rather convincing vampire, don’t I?” he said, flashing his fake fangs at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. “What do you think, kitten?”

You glared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re lucky I don’t have garlic,” you muttered, sipping your drink to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Tara, oblivious to the tension between the two of you, just giggled again and raised her empty glass. “I need another drink after that! I'm gonna go get another round,” she said, already walking back toward the bar.

As soon as Tara was out of earshot, Sylus’s demeanor shifted slightly. The playful grin remained, but now, with just the two of you, there was something darker, more intense in his expression. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly much more imposing.

“You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he closed the distance between you, “I think your friend is onto something” His eyes gleamed, locking onto yours with that wicked, teasing look you knew all too well.

Before you could react, he leaned in—so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck. Your heart jumped in your chest, the sudden proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, teasing, as he lingered just inches from your neck, not touching you but close enough that goosebumps instantly rose along your arms.

You froze, every nerve in your body suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The scent of him, a mix of something dark and enticing, filled your senses. Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t hide the goosebumps now crawling up your skin.

He let his breath linger for just a moment longer before his lips curled into a smirk near your ear. “You might want to watch out, kitten,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing growl. “I could get used to this.”

Your breath hitched, and you struggled to keep your composure, your pulse racing wildly. “Sylus…” you warned, trying to sound stern, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, clearly reveling in your reaction. Straightening up slightly, he didn’t step back but remained close, his crimson eyes still locked on yours. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his voice smooth and playful. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You glared at him, trying to mask the fact that your heart was still hammering in your chest. “Don’t start,” you muttered, forcing a glare, even though you could still feel the heat from where his breath had brushed your skin.

Sylus took a slow sip of his drink, his smirk never fading. “I wasn’t starting anything,” he said innocently, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “Just playing the part.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks and the pounding of your heart betrayed you. “Just don’t bite anyone,” you shot back, trying to reclaim some control over the situation.

“No promises,” Sylus said, his voice soft but dangerous, his gaze lingering on you as if you were his prey.

Tara came bouncing back over to you with two martinis, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey! Want to dance?” she asked, already swaying to the music.

You barely hesitated, desperate for a way to escape the overwhelming tension with Sylus. “Yeah, sure,” you said, quickly taking the martini from Tara and downing a good portion of it. You could feel Sylus’s eyes on you, and when you glanced his way, he simply gave a slight nod, clearly content with watching you both from afar.

Your skin prickled under his gaze as you and Tara made your way toward the middle of the festival. The music was thumping, bodies swaying together under the dim, flickering lights. You still felt uneasy knowing Sylus was watching you, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But as the alcohol worked its way through your system, slowly loosening your limbs and dulling the tension, you started to let yourself get lost in the music. Tara twirled around you, laughing and dancing without a care in the world, and soon enough, you found yourself smiling and moving along with her.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your bones, making everything seem a little hazier, a little easier. The bass pulsed through the air, the crowd a blur of costumes and laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about Sylus’s watchful eyes.

But eventually, a different need called your attention—you really had to pee.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you shouted over the music to Tara.

“I’ll come with you!” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. Stay here! I’ll be right back.”

Tara shrugged, happily returning to her dancing as you weaved your way through the crowd, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped away from the dance floor. Your steps were a little unsteady, and as you made your way to the row of porta potties set up near the back of the festival grounds, you blinked to clear your vision. Everything seemed a little...fuzzy. The alcohol was really kicking in now, and you swore the ground felt a little wobbly under your feet.

You managed to find an open porta potty, and after handling your business, you stepped out, blinking again as the world swayed in front of you. Shit...am I really this drunk? you thought, steadying yourself against the side of the porta potty for a moment. Your vision was blurry, and everything seemed a little too bright, a little too loud.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. For a second, you thought it was Sylus. The height was wrong, but the dark outline and the way the man moved had you second-guessing yourself. Relief almost flooded through you, but then the figure got closer, and the sour, stale scent hit your nose.

No, this definitely wasn’t Sylus.

The man was much shorter, stockier, and as he came closer, you could smell him—like sweat and cheap cologne, mixed with the stench of too much booze. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as he stepped into your personal space, his breath hot and sour as he leaned in a little too close.

“Hey there,” he slurred, his voice dripping with false charm. “You look a little lost. Why don’t you come to my car? It’s parked just over there.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you instinctively stepped back, trying to put some distance between you and him. “No, I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you tried to move past him. But he stepped into your path, blocking you with an alarming quickness for someone who seemed so drunk.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone darkening, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. “It’ll be fun. I can show you a good time, little kitty.”

Panic surged through you as you tried to yank your arm away, stumbling slightly as your vision blurred again. The alcohol was making it hard to focus, and you cursed under your breath. “No, leave me alone!” you said, your voice firmer now as you tried to push past him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his face twisting with frustration. “I said come with me,” he growled, pulling harder.

Your pulse skyrocketed, fear taking over as you struggled to break free. Just as you were about to shout for help, a shadow loomed behind the man.

“I’d suggest you listen to her.”

That voice—it was low, cold, and unmistakable. You looked up, relief crashing through you like a wave as Sylus appeared, his tall figure practically radiating menace. The shorter man immediately let go of your arm, turning to face Sylus with a sneer, clearly trying to act tough despite the difference in size.

“And who the hell are you? I'm her boyfriend, fuck off” the man spat, puffing out his chest.

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and deadly. Without another word, a cold red mist began to swirl around him, tendrils of it seeping through the air like something out of a nightmare. The temperature around you seemed to drop, and you could feel the mist growing denser, colder.

The drunken man didn’t seem to realize what was happening until it was too late. The red mist wrapped around him like a snake, tightening and choking him. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his grip on your arm loosening as fear took over.

Sylus didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on the man, his fury palpable as the mist constricted tighter.

The man’s face turned a sickly shade of purple as he clawed at the mist around his throat, desperately trying to break free. He gagged, his drunken bravado crumbling into pure terror.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you stepped forward, grabbing Sylus’s arm. “Stop. You’re going to kill him...there's people all around us.”

Sylus’s eyes flicked to you, still cold and angry, but there was a flicker of hesitation. You could see the struggle behind his gaze, his fury barely held in check. But slowly, the mist around the man’s throat began to dissipate. Sylus released him, letting the man fall to the ground, coughing and wheezing as he scrambled to his feet.

The man didn’t waste a second. He stumbled away, terrified, mumbling incoherently as he disappeared into the crowd, wanting nothing more than to escape the nightmare he had just experienced.

Sylus’s shoulders tensed, his body still vibrating with anger as he watched the man retreat. His breathing was heavy, and though the mist had vanished, the chill in the air remained.

You stood there, your heart still racing, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified by what had just happened. As Sylus turned toward you, you could see him trying to calm himself.

“My kitten,” he said softly, though his voice was still rough with residual anger, “is always getting herself into sticky situations.” He took a step closer, his usual smirk returning, though there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Good thing I’m a vampire tonight. I can sniff out when she gets herself in trouble.”

You managed a shaky laugh, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to almost kill him,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure.

Sylus shrugged, his eyes softening as he looked you over, checking to make sure you were truly alright. “He deserved worse,” he said, though his tone was lighter now. “But I’ll behave. For you.”

Sylus suddenly glanced down at his watch, his expression hardening almost instantly. Without warning, he turned to you and, in a firm voice, announced, “We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confused. “What? Leaving? Why? What about Tara?”

But Sylus didn’t bother explaining. He grabbed your arm with a sense of urgency, pulling you away from the festival and weaving through the crowd. You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but with the alcohol still lingering in your system, your balance wasn’t on your side. “Hey! What about Tara?” you protested, struggling to keep up with his swift pace.

Sylus barely glanced back at you as he strode toward a sleek, black car parked near the edge of the festival grounds. “Luke and Kieran are taking her home,” he replied coolly, unlocking the car with a flick of his wrist. “Behave, and get inside.”

You planted your feet, halting in your tracks as you shook your head, confused and frustrated. “Wait—what? Why are we leaving so suddenly? I don’t—”

But Sylus wasn’t in the mood for a debate. He turned, his eyes flashing with irritation, and in one swift motion, he pushed the car door open, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as he guided you into the passenger seat. You tried to resist, squirming under his firm hold.

“Get in the car,” he sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Please.”

After a bit more struggle—your alcohol-fueled frustration not making it easy—you finally huffed in defeat and let him guide you into the seat. He shut the door behind you with a sharp click before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

You sulked in silence as he started the engine, the low hum of the car doing little to soothe your frustration. You didn’t understand why Sylus was being so forceful all of a sudden, and the abruptness of it all only added to the confusion swirling in your mind. The alcohol still clouded your thoughts, making it hard to argue, and as the car began to move, the steady rhythm of the ride lulled you into an unexpected calm.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the tension of the night, you found yourself slowly drifting off. The next thing you knew, darkness had settled around you, and your body slipped into a deep, alcohol-fueled sleep.

When you woke, you felt yourself being carried, the world around you shifting. The first thing you noticed was Sylus’s steady, strong grip beneath you, his arms holding you close as he walked. You blinked groggily, your vision clearing slightly as you realized you were no longer at the festival—or in the car.

Sylus was carrying you through the dim, industrial halls of his home in the N109 Zone. The walls were dark and sleek, bathed in a soft glow from the faint lights overhead. The cold, sterile air of the house prickled against your skin, sobering you up a little more as you processed what was happening.

A wave of frustration hit you. With your head clearer now, you reached up and pinched his cheek, your fingers digging in as you muttered, “Asshole.”

Sylus let out a soft grunt of surprise, glancing down at you with a bemused look. “Still feisty, I see,” he murmured, though there was an amused glint in his eyes. “How unfortunate that the nap didn't dull your attitude".

You scowled, still annoyed by the way he had just whisked you away without any explanation. “You dragged me away from the festival without even telling me why,” you muttered, your voice sharper now that you were more awake. “What the hell, Sylus?”

He just chuckled softly, ignoring the sting from your pinch. “You were in no state to argue,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he carried you further into his home. “And I had enough of babysitting you the whole night.”

“Well I didn't ask you to watch me,” you grumbled, though your body still felt heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. You squirmed a little in his arms, trying to free yourself, but his grip on you was steady and unyielding.

“You can complain all you want, kitten,” he said with a smirk, “but you needed to get out of there. Trust me.”

You huffed, more irritated now. “Don’t call me kitten,” you muttered, glaring up at him through half-lidded eyes. It was bad enough that he always teased you with that nickname—tonight, it felt like he was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound.

Sylus glanced down at you, his smirk deepening into a mischievous grin. “Why not?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing, as his eyes traveled over your outfit. “You’re dressed like one tonight. Seems even more fitting than usual, doesn’t it?”

Sylus carried you effortlessly through the halls of his home until he reached his room. He set you down gently on the large, plush bed, its softness immediately pulling you in. The sheets felt cool against your skin as you sank into them, your body still heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol.

You watched as Sylus moved across the room, grabbing a glass of water from a nearby table and bringing it back to the nightstand beside the bed. “Drink this,” he said, his voice less teasing now, more gentle. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Go to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes but obediently took a sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. As you placed the glass back down, you realized that the fog in your mind was starting to lift. You weren’t as drunk as you had been earlier—your head was clearer now, though you were still feeling bold enough to be a little reckless.

Sylus walked across the room, settling into a large leather chair near the window, watching you from a distance. He leaned back, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, clearly still on edge after the events of the night.

But something stirred inside you—a spark of mischievousness born from the alcohol still lingering in your system. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking of how he had pulled you away from the festival without warning, how he always teased you, and how you could never seem to one-up him. Maybe now was your chance.

You slid out of bed and onto all fours, quietly crawling toward him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and warning.

You didn’t answer. Instead, when you reached him, you rested your face against his legs and set your head down in his lap, rubbing your cheek against him in a way that could only be described as cat-like.

For a moment, Sylus just stared at you, processing what you were doing. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, looking down at you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Not only are you dressed like a cat,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm, “but now you’ve decided to act like one too.”

You smirked to yourself, feeling triumphant in your little act of rebellion. “I’m just embracing the part,” you murmured, your voice teasing as you nuzzled your face slightly against his legs.

Sylus’s hand twitched slightly, and for a moment, you wondered if he would push you away—but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you, his gaze sharp and curious, though there was a flicker of something darker beneath his playful expression.

“Careful, kitten,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always made your pulse race. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, the mischief still swirling inside you. “And what if I am?” you challenged, pushing yourself just a little further, enjoying the way his body tensed beneath you.

Sylus’s crimson eyes darkened, his smirk fading slightly as he studied you more closely. There was something electric in the air between you now, the tension palpable as he weighed his next move.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “Bolder than usual.”

You just smiled up at him, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having thrown him off balance, even if only slightly. “Maybe it’s the cat costume,” you teased, still resting your head in his lap. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing more predatory as he leaned down slightly, closing the distance between your faces. He looked at you with a gleam of amusement and hunger, his tone shifting to something deeper, more commanding.

“Since you’re feeling so bold,” he said softly, his voice dripping with a dangerous edge, “you should have no problem mewling a little for me then, hm?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the sudden shift in tone making your pulse race even faster. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unwavering, made your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t playing around anymore. The teasing had escalated, and now he was testing you, pushing you to see how far you would go.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of defiance and something else stirring within you. The tension between you two had never been more palpable, and in that moment, it felt like a line was being drawn—a challenge you weren’t sure if you wanted to accept or retreat from.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his expression amused as he watched the gears turn in your head. “What’s the matter?” he teased, though his voice was softer now, coaxing. “Cat got your tongue?"

You smirked at Sylus’s challenge, the mischievous spark in your eyes growing even brighter. Fine, you thought, two can play at that game.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the role he was teasing you about, doubling down on your boldness. You let out a soft, playful meow, pawing at his legs like a mischievous cat. The alcohol still buzzing in your system only made it easier to fully embrace the act, and you were determined to throw him off balance—if only for a moment.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how far you were willing to take the game, but his smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched you with amusement, his crimson eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Oh, so we’re really doing this?” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You meowed again, more dramatically this time, your hands pawing at his pants as you looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. You could see the amusement in his eyes, and you knew you had him—at least for now. Deciding to push the limits, you got even closer, deciding to rub your face against his half hard cock hidden beneath his jeans.

Seems he was more affected than he was letting on.

With a mocking grin, Sylus reached down and ran his hand gently over the top of your head, as if petting you like a real cat. “You must be very drunk,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “Acting like a kitten and now letting me pet you? I need a camera.”

But before he could pull his hand away, you leaned forward and bit him—lightly, but enough to make a point. He barely reacted before withdrawing his hand, his eyes widening with mock surprise as he looked down at you.

“Oh?,” Sylus said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You even bite too? What an unpredictable little kitten I have”

You grinned up at him, feeling victorious in your rebellion, the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline making you bolder than ever. “I warned you not to underestimate me,” you teased, your eyes still locked on his, enjoying the game far more than you expected.

Sylus’s playful smirk returned, though there was an undeniable glint of something darker in his gaze. “I think you've forgotten something though” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping lower.

"I bite back.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your grin in place, unwilling to back down now. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the playful teasing quickly evolving into something far more intense. You had started this game, and now you were both caught in it.

But for now, you weren’t ready to back down. “I think I can handle it,” you replied, your voice light but laced with challenge.

Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement, but the edge in his gaze remained. “Is that so?”

Before you could react, Sylus stood up abruptly, his towering presence looming over you. Caught off guard, you stumbled backward, landing on your elbows. Instinctively, you began to scoot back, trying to put some distance between you and his intense gaze, but there was nowhere to go. You felt the cool sheets of the bed press against your back as you found yourself cornered, unable to escape the situation you'd playfully started.

Sylus took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours, predatory and amused. He enjoyed how you had pushed him, but now it seemed like the tables had turned. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race in a way that wasn’t just from fear or excitement—it was something more.

“Sylus,” you said, your voice half-teasing, half-nervous, “you’re not really going to—” But the words caught in your throat as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, cutting off any space for escape.

You were about to plead again, but your voice faltered as he lowered himself closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Why so nervous now?” he teased, his voice low and dangerous, echoing your earlier defiance.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the intensity in his gaze rendered you speechless. Instead, all you could do was look at him, your breath catching in your throat as the air around you thickened with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the predatory edge was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded again, almost breathless. “Y-yes,” you whispered.

Without waiting another moment, Sylus’s lips were on yours. The kiss was slow at first, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently, despite the tension hanging in the air. You melted into the kiss, your mind swimming as his lips moved against yours with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was as if he was savoring every second.

But then his lips trailed down, leaving a hot path along your jawline, and before you knew it, he was at your neck. You shuddered, the sensation making your pulse quicken, and just as the heat spread through you, you felt a sharp sting—his teeth sinking into your skin.

You gasped, a groan escaping your lips as the bite sent a jolt of pain through your body. Your hands instinctively gripped the sheets beneath you as your body tensed, your head spinning with the mixture of pain and adrenaline. Sylus’s teeth sank in deeper for just a moment, the pressure sharp but somehow electrifying.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His crimson eyes gleamed as he watched your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and though the bite had hurt, there was something about his voice, his presence, that made you want to give in. Despite yourself, you found your body relaxing under his touch, your breath steadying as you nodded again, almost instinctively.

Sylus smiled, his lips brushing against your neck once more. “Good girl,” he whispered before trailing soft kisses along your skin, his hands firm but gentle as they held you in place.

Before you could respond, his teeth sank into your skin again, this time in a different spot. The bite was just as sharp, if not sharper, and you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain shot through you. The sting was immediate, but beneath it, there was a strange thrill, an intensity that made your heart race.

Your hands gripped the sheets even tighter as he bit down harder, holding the pressure for a few seconds longer this time. Warm tears begin to pour down your face. The sensation of his teeth against your skin left you both groaning in pain and caught in something deeper, more electric. Each mark he left felt like a brand, a reminder of just how much control he had over you in this moment.

Sylus didn’t pull back right away; instead, he lingered at your neck, sucking gently at the new mark he’d made, as if savoring the taste of your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, your body trembling beneath him, torn between the sharp sting of the bite and the warmth that followed in its wake.

When he finally released you, he trailed slow, deliberate kisses over the fresh mark, his tongue grazing your skin in a way that made your head spin. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the possessive way his hands held you in place as if daring you to protest.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was lay there, breathless, as the intensity of it all washed over you.

Sylus looked down at you, his gaze full of smug satisfaction as he admired the new set of marks he’d left on your neck. His thumb grazed over them gently, tracing the outlines of his bites as if claiming you in some silent, unspoken way.

“You wear my marks well,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Perhaps you should challenge me more often, kitten.”

Unable to respond, you watch as his lips makes contact with yours again, gentle but devastating. Every nerve in your body sings for him at the contact, and you feel more warm tears finally slip from your eyes to drip down between your lips and his. He pulls back to look at you, wiping those tears away and sighing in pleasure at whatever expression he finds on your face. You curl your fingers in his shirt and tug him back to you, wanting to savor this, but also wanting more, so much more.

Your tongue slips past his, and your fingers tangle into the back of his hair of their own accord. He moans, honest to god moans into your mouth at the contact, and any pretense either of you may have had about this being only a kiss simply evaporates. His mouth moves more insistently against yours, hand cradling the entire side of your face, and you finally allow your hips to push forward, finding him fully hard this time.

He suddenly leans back and pulls his shirt over his head one-handed in a smooth, practiced motion. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. If you didn't know that almost certainly mind-blowing sex is soon to follow, you'd swear that there's nothing better on this earth than watching Sylus strip his own shirt off to bare that sinful chest. 

He smirks down at you, resting one hand on your hipbone and snaking the other to the waistband of his pants, but that's more than you can take right now. You hook your legs around the back of his and pull him down, desperate, and you shudder as his clothed erection is finally brought flush against your arousal. 

"Sylus, please," you whine, trusting that he knows what you're begging for. His fingers tighten and relax on your hip as if by reflex, and you can barely think straight around your need to have him inside you. 

"You're sure?" he huffs, capturing your mouth again, and you'd laugh if you weren't fit to combust from desire. 

"God, I'm sure." You don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life, to be honest.

Sylus's lips pull up into another satisfied smirk against yours, and his fingers dig into your flesh with intent this time as he leans back again. "Maybe we should wait until you're more sober-"

"No!" you interrupt him, probably too quickly, and he quirks an eyebrow again. "Um, I mean...I'm good."

"You're good?" he asks, and fuck, it's so hard to think around this insistent, burning desire. You could sense his small hesitation and become desperate to ease his worries surrounding your state of mind.

"Yeah," you tell him again, as pointedly as you can while impatient with lust. "The nap really helped, I'm okay."

He hesitates a moment longer, and you feel like your about to combust with need.

"Sylus. I want you. All of you." You reach a hand out to cup the length of him through his pants, delighting in the narrowing in his eyes and the shudder that goes through him. A sudden thrill of confidence has you saying the filthiest thing you've ever said before you can stop yourself.

"I want you to cum inside me. Please."

You think the look in his eyes might be a little bit feral as he turns his full attention back to your body, tugging your skirt . He slips his fingers into your panties with no preamble, and he sighs appreciatively at the slick he feels there. "You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

He's going to drive you insane, and when you tell him as much, his only response is to tear the garment down your legs, toss it behind him, and press two fingers inside of you. You choke and gasp his name as he grins wickedly down at you.

"Yeah, you have." He presses deeper, thumb brushing your clit, and you can't hold back a desperate cry. 

"Sylus, please-" 

"Fuck..." His eyes trail down to where his fingers are buried, and you'd be self-conscious if you had even a single brain cell to spare that isn't consumed by pleasure. "Do you know how long I've wanted this, gorgeous? The second I saw you in that costume I wanted to tear it off".

You can only gasp and buck your hips shamelessly as he continues, murmuring encouragement and looking both as smug and as charming as he ever has. This feels so good, so unreal, his slender fingers hitting all the right spots inside you while his thumb continues rubbing lazy circles outside. You can hardly believe that the same fingers your eyes have lingered on as they hold bullets or curl around a trigger - the same hands you've seen kill countless times - are now the gentle architects of your mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Come on, that's it," Sylus coos with a particularly delicious quirk of those fingers, pulling you out of hazy memories and back to what you realize is now an imminent orgasm. Your eyes drag from the stark outline of his erection against his pants, up his chest and to his face, where you catch him biting his lip in his concentration.

"Sylus-" Your hips buck against his hand as the tension coils inside you. "I'm-" 

"I know. Go head and cum kitten," he says with another devilish grin, and god, he's going to be the end of you. 

"Sylus," you gasp again, reduced to this mindless desperation as his talented fingers work you while your release hovers just out of reach. "Please, I'm-" 

He finally takes pity on you and ducks his head to seal his mouth over your clit, and fuck, what you wouldn't give for more of that, but after all this build-up, one brush of his tongue is all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge. Both of your hands fist in his hair as you shudder under him, gasping and keening, and you feel him groan against your sensitive flesh. 

Eventually, he pulls away, though it takes you several more seconds to come back to earth. When you open your eyes, it's to find him stripped down to nothing, hovering over you again with a self-satisfied expression. 

"God," you say, still not recovered, and then, because you can't help it, your eyes drop to his cock. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, rigid and straining for you. Your core throbs again as you realize that getting you off is what got him this worked up. Fuck. 

How as that possibly going to fit?

"It'll fit, don't worry" he says, as if able to read your mind. You don't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. 

You groan and throw an arm over your eyes to resist the very real temptation to stare at Sylus's naked body for the rest of your life. You feel him move closer, dropping down onto his palms above you, and you lift your arm to watch him settle between your thighs like he's always belonged there. 

"You want to do this?" he asks softly, red eyes searching yours for one last confirmation, and you respond with a few tiny, shaky nods. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip with a quiet sigh. "Let me hear you say it, beautiful." 

"Yes, Sylus," you plead, tears burning again at the corners of your eyes, and he hums his pleasure against your lips as he lines himself up. You inhale sharply through your teeth as you feel the first breach of his cock, holding that breath in your lungs as he slowly sinks in to the hilt. Christ, he's big. 

"Breathe, kitten" he reminds you, still disarmingly gentle, though you can see the smug satisfaction plainly on his face. He braces himself on his forearms to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw, pulling out to slowly slide back in with a deep groan.

Your hands fist in his hair, and you think you might be onto something with that when his chuckle melts into a moan. He eyes lock onto yours as he buries himself as deep as he can again, and you're taken aback by the open adoration you see on his face - you can only hope your own face is mirroring that for him. 

He slides out and in again, again, slowly falling into a steady rhythm that's better than anything you've ever felt in your life. For an endless time, there's nothing else - it's just the two of you, bodies coming together in pleasure, the occasional rougher thrust making you gasp his name as he mouths yours against your skin.

Sylus's hips suddenly still and he drops his head beside yours, heavy breaths hot against your ear. You shift underneath him, relishing the feel of his length still thick inside you but needy for him to move.

"Just need a second," he pants, sounding as wrecked as you feel. "I'm not ready to be done with you yet, sweetie." 

And oh, if your heart (and your aethercore) could explode from words alone, those would do it. The most divine human being you've ever known is lying here staving off an orgasm so that he can keep fucking you. And he just called you sweetie. 

Yeah, you're totally dead and gone. 

You lie there for a few moments, matching your breaths to his and kneading your fingers into the firm planes of his back. An appreciative groan rumbles out of him, and he pulls back to slide out of you, silencing your noise of protest with a finger to your lips and a low chuckle.

"You'll get what you want," he admonishes, grasping one of your hips to give it a slight push. "Patience, kitten" 

He leans back, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, hard against the vee of his hips and glistening with your wetness. Fuck. You shift your legs apart, and he's back on you immediately, one hand digging into the flesh of your ass and the other bracing itself next to your shoulder. 

"Good girl," Sylus breathes into your ear, and you go boneless as he sheathes himself in your slick heat once more. "Good fucking girl, taking me so well." 

You're beyond being able to respond to his filthy praise with anything other than gasps and moans, but he doesn't seem to mind, taking them as encouragement to fuck you even harder and bring your bodies flush together. When his hips snap forward, driving him deep, deeper, you swear you see stars. God, this angle is otherworldly, his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each perfect thrust. Your hands cling desperately to his biceps, feeling those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he holds you tighter. Sylus's fingers wrap gently around your neck as his teeth nip your ear, and you cry out, feeling a familiar heat and tension begin to build within you. 

"So close again?" he growls, each breath harsh as he fucks into you. "Shit...feels so fucking good." 

Yeah, you're fucking close, if the steady stream of "yes" and "please" pouring from your lips and the almost painful way you're gripping his cock is anything to go on. You might even be sobbing now, who the fuck knows. His fingers clench against the pulse jumping in your neck, and there it is-

You glance up at him, muscles taut as he thrusts, and it's over for you, even before his eyes flick up to yours as he breathes,

"Cum for me." 

Your body shakes against him as another orgasm barrels through you, and you think you might actually scream this time, which is a shame because you're sure Sylus is saying some delectable shit to you right now. He doesn't let up, cock still pounding into you relentlessly, and when you finally come down from your high, it's to find his moans coming out broken and his thrusts rougher than ever. He's close. He's right there. You're not sure what possesses you in that moment, but you reach a hand between your bodies and close your fingers gently around his balls. Your efforts are rewarded with stuttering hips and a glorious, drawn-out groan as Sylus cums hard, his face shoved roughly into your shoulder. 

You take a moment as he pants against you, the aftershocks of your own orgasm still thrumming through you, to stare at the ceiling in disbelief that this is real life. You just had sex with Sylus. The leader of Onychinus. You're desperately in love with him and he might just feel the same about you. 

When his hips finally still and he stops panting into your skin, you begin guide his face closer to yours, relishing the way he rests his full weight on top of you without thinking, dazed as he is in his own pleasure. He pulls your face toward his to capture your lips in another blistering kiss, this one unexpectedly tender after his ferocity only moments ago, and you moan softly through it at the feel of his cock still solid inside you. 

You both catch your breath against the pillows for a few moments before he whispers that he's going to pull out, and you brace yourself for that final slide of his cock. Fuck, that should not feel as good as it does, especially considering that in the same second you have to clench your thighs to keep his release inside of you. Sylus lays on his back beside you with a sigh of contentment, and you turn carefully to lie right alongside him. You slide your hand over to his, not sure why you're feeling shy about this when you just got done being thoroughly fucked by him, but you feel relieved all the same when his fingers intertwine with yours. 

Your breaths slow as you both lie quietly in the afterglow, and after a time, he turns to face you.

"I trust it goes without saying that you're welcome to stay as long as you like," he says, brushing your hair back from your face, and all of your emotions come rushing back. You love him. You love him.

"What if I never want to leave?" you whisper, and now it's spoken, now it's out there for him to do with as he will. He studies you for a long moment, and it could just be the light of the room reflecting in those red eyes, but you think you see them glistening.

"I think that could be arranged," he finally says, his voice as full of emotion as you've ever heard it, and you feel as though you're drowning in your love for this man. You swallow past the lump in your throat and throw him as playful a smile as you can manage. 

"Well, that's good, because I feel your cum slipping out of me. Might need to put more back in there" you say, emboldened by his now obvious desire for you, but still feeling bashful as you say it. Both of his eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs, a deep, indulgent sound.

"Careful," he purrs, wrapping both arms around you like a vice. "Might get me going again."

"Plenty of time for that later," you tell him, leaning forward to bury yourself in his chest again, hoping your words carry the weight of the three specific ones you're still too embarrassed to say out loud. 

"And more," he murmurs in your ear, arms tightening around you, his words sounding an awful lot like an unspoken affirmation to your unspoken vow. 

This wasn't such a bad Halloween after all.