#kevin can use his hands softly

[foxesscramble]

Advent Calendar: Day Five

Their First Christmas Together - New Hobbies - Transgender AU || "No one can resist those [ ] of yours."

Jean x Jeremy x Kevin

@allforthegamebingo

(so sorry this is so late but technically i still made it. is it the last hour of the day? yes but shh.)

______________

Jeremy is so stressed, more stressed than he has ever been at any sports event in his life. This Christmas was the first Christmas he was spending with Kevin and Jean and everything needed to be perfect. He knew neither of the former Ravens had anything close to a normal, cheerful Christmas and he had to fix that. Christmas was the best time of the year.

For the Trojans, it was a time when everyone came together to donate toys and money to charities. It was a time when everyone came in with better spirits than normal and everyone felt a sense of family that was strengthened by the season.

Jeremy wanted his boys to feel that energy so badly. He wanted them to experience a happy and stress free Christmas and if that meant that Jeremy had to sacrifice his sanity for two days then so be it. It was Christmas Eve and they had a ton of things to get through before the night was over.

He had just put the cookies into the oven when Jean and Kevin walked in. They had gone out to find Jeremy eggs after he realized that he didn't have any more to make his royal icing. Kevin walked in and put the eggs down next to the bowl as Jean came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Jeremy's waist. Jeremy let himself melt into the hold.

Casual affection was a new thing for Jean and Jeremy had been gladly encouraging it. Jean placed a kiss on the top of Jeremy's hair before releasing him. "Need any help?" Jeremy shook his head before reconsidering. "Actually, could you start making hot chocolate? It shouldn't take too long for the cookies to bake and I can make the icing pretty fast. Growing up, we always had hot chocolate while we made cookies."

Kevin shot him a soft smile as he hopped up to sit on the kitchen island. Jean obediently got out three mugs and the kettle. Once Jean was finished, he made his way to rest between Kevin's legs, his back against Kevin's chest. Kevin grabbed his mug with one hand and wrapped the other around Jean's chest as they settled in to watch Jeremy make the icing.

Jeremy felt a rush of affection for the two boys behind him. They had been through a lot but they were finally settling into their skin without the threat and paranoia of it getting taken away again.

The sound of soft Christmas songs filled the kitchen while Jeremy tried his best to get the icing to the right consistency. Normally, it was one of the easiest things to make but in that moment it was doing its best to derail Jeremy's plan to show his boys his favorite Christmas traditions. How was he supposed to show Kevin and Jean the pleasures of cookie decorating if he couldn't even get the goddamn icing right?

Maybe he was a little bit stressed but even Jeremy could admit the heat behind his eyes was a little much. "Well, fuck." He said quietly as he watched the icing easily slide off his spoon. He tried to take a deep breath but it got caught in his lungs. Anxiously shaking his hands at his side he tried to take a breath again only half failing this time.

"Jere," Kevin said gently from behind him. "Breathe with me, baby." He tried but all he could manage was a desperate huff. Jean swiftly took the icing and spoon from his hands and turned him so he was facing Kevin who had slid off the kitchen island and was now standing right in front of him. Kevin reached out but Jeremy was already crashing a little harshly into his chest.

Kevin let out a little oof but brought his arms around him immediately. "'S okay, I'm good. It's too watery." He said in a rush. Kevin just hummed as he rubbed his hand up and down Jeremy's back. Jeremy allowed himself to take a few deep breaths and rest the rest of his weight against Kevin's strong figure. Kevin let his lips rest on the top of Jeremy's head, his unoccupied hand coming up to run through Jeremy's hair.

After a while, he pressed a kiss to Kevin's chest and pulled back. When he turned around he was surprised to see Jean stirring icing that now held a perfect consistency. His eyebrows furrowed and his chest unclenched a bit more. "How did you do that?" He asked Jean who just shrugged in response. "I like baking." Jeremy let out a little laugh. Jean was honestly a little too good at the most random things like knitting, painting, and even fucking pottery.

"Well, thank you." He said as he tilted his head up and placed a hard kiss to Jean's lips. Jean's hand lifted to cup his jaw and Jeremy smiled into the kiss.

"Any particular reason the icing sent you a bit over the edge?" Kevin asked in a uniquely Kevin mixture of gentle and blunt. The oven beeped and Jeremy went to pull them out of the oven. He used the distraction to think about how to best phrase his thoughts. After he put the pan on the table he turned to Kevin and Jean and took a deep breath. "I just really want this Christmas to go well. You both deserve to have a nice and normal Christmas after everything. I need it to be perfect because you both deserve that and so much more and I think I may be stressing myself out a little in the process." He rushed to continue before either of them could interrupt. "I am perfectly fine though, it's going well and we still have so many things to do and not really enough time to get through them all but it'll be fun."

Kevin and Jean shared a little look before they turned back to Jeremy with matching expressions of affection. Jean spoke first. "I think I speak for both of us when I say that we are more than happy to just be here with you, love." Kevin nodded in agreement, his hand reaching out to pull Jeremy closer to them. "I agree. I also would like to point out that this is not the only Christmas I intend to spend with the two of you so I think we have a few years to get through all of your traditions. There's no need to stress about doing everything in one day."

Jeremy is overwhelmingly fond of these boys. They'd both come so far. They were right of course, he wasn't sure why he was so adamant about going through every single Christmas tradition he had ever partaken in. All he wanted to do right now was curl up with them on their bed turn on The Polar Express and eat cookies until they were sick.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I was taken the fun out of it anyway trying to stuff so many things into today." Jean made a negative sound and shook his head. "It has been very fun, I'm just concerned you're not enjoying it as much as we are." Jeremy felt heat rise to his cheeks and cursed Jean's inexplicable ability to read him like a book. Eyes flitting around the room, he shifted from foot to foot. "Maybe we can just decorate the cookies and then we can all watch The Polar Express in bed? I promise I'll take you both out to look at Christmas lights tomorrow."

Kevin smiled and nodded his agreement. "That sounds wonderful, Jeremy." Jean nodded and reached for the bowl of icing. "I think it's time to make cookies because I have been craving them all day."

Kevin grabbed some plates to put the cookies on while they decorated and Jeremy knew that their Christmas was going to be okay. It was going to be perfect.

[pucksandpower]

The Princess and the Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Princess of Denmark!Reader

Summary: in which you follow the time-honored tradition of Danish royalty falling in love with Australians

Note: dedicated to my favorite Dane, @struggling-with-drivers, who had to put up with me taking months to finally get the proper inspiration to write this

“And if you’ll just follow me, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, I’ll take you to meet Kevin now,” the overly peppy Haas PR representative says as she gestures down the garage.

You force a smile, trying not to physically recoil as you take in the assault of garish Haas branding surrounding you. The white, red, and black color scheme is far too harsh on the eyes this early on a Saturday morning.

“Oh goody,” your younger sister Josephine says flatly, eliciting a snort from your younger brother Vincent.

Your mother, Queen Mary, shoots the two a reproachful look before turning back to the PR rep with a polished smile. “We’re very excited to meet Kevin and support Denmark’s driver.”

The PR rep beams and starts leading you further into the Haas garage, rattling on about Haas’ ambitious goals for the season as you pass mechanics in matching black Haas polos barely paying you any mind.

You internally groan, already dreading the interaction ahead. As the Crown Princess, you’ve long perfected the art of feigning interest, but this weekend has tested even your limits.

“And I know meeting the future queen will just make Kevin’s day!” The rep continues enthusiastically. “He was so honored when King Frederik reached out about you all coming this weekend to support him.”

You resist the urge to snort. More like the royal communications secretary reached out when they realized the Australian Grand Prix overlapped with your visit to your mother’s family in Australia. Nothing like conveniently timing a royal appearance to drum up positive press.

Your younger sister, Isabella, sidles up next to you, linking her arm through yours commiseratingly. At 16, she’s already mastered your family’s signature skill — conveying boredom through a pleasant facial expression.

“I have some fresh sets of Haas merch we would love for you to wear when you meet Kevin,” the rep says, holding out stacks of Haas emblazoned caps and shirts insistently. “It would mean so much to the team for you to showcase your support.”

You force a smile, already shaking your head. “Oh, I’m afraid we can’t wear anything with advertisements or sponsors per royal protocol.”

The PR rep’s face falls slightly before she plasters the smile back on. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, I understand. Shall we?”

She gestures further down the garage to where the Haas drivers are standing with team personnel. Kevin Magnussen spots your approach, nudging his teammate before they turn towards you.

As you reach them, Kevin steps forward first, offering a short bow. “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, it’s an honor to meet you.”

You offer your hand, which he takes, bowing again as he brushes his lips over your knuckles. “The honor is ours, Mr. Magnussen. Denmark is proud to have you representing us in Formula 1.”

Kevin smiles bashfully as you drop his hand. “Please, call me Kevin.”

You return his smile politely. “Very well, Kevin it is.”

The rest of your family exchanges pleasantries with Kevin before the PR rep guides you towards the pit wall to observe the action on track. Practice is getting underway, and you’re grateful for any chance to extract yourself from the oppressive Haas environment.

As you exit the garage into the sunlight, you breathe a sigh of relief. Two bodyguards fall smoothly in step behind you as you start down the paddock, taking in the buzz of activity.

You smile softly, the excitement infectious despite your general disinterest in motorsports. There’s something about the frenetic energy at a race that gets your blood pumping.

Your eyes light up as you spot the unmistakable papaya motorhome of McLaren up ahead. Now that’s a team you can get behind. Cool retro appeal and a driver line-up you’ve heard is full of young talent — what’s not to love?

You pick up your pace, eager to get a closer look at the iconic livery, when suddenly you collide headlong into a firm, muscular body.

You gasp as strong arms wrap around you, stopping your momentum abruptly. Your hands brace against a solid chest as you glance up, prepared to stammer out an apology.

But the words die on your lips as you find yourself staring into warm brown eyes set in an unfairly handsome face. The eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having expected the Crown Princess of Denmark to go careening into his arms.

His mouth opens, no doubt to ask if you’re okay, but you stand frozen as the hustle of the paddock fades into background noise.

In this moment, it’s just you and this beautiful stranger. A stranger who hasn’t let go of you yet, one hand still pressed gently against your back.

You know you should pull away, apologize for your clumsiness and be on your way. But something about his eyes makes you want to stay right here, wrapped safely in his arms.

You stand frozen, lost in the stranger’s mesmerizing brown eyes. You vaguely register your bodyguards stepping forward on either side of you.

“Your Royal Highness, are you alright?” Henrik, your lead bodyguard, asks urgently.

You blink, the spell broken as Henrik’s hand lands on your shoulder, gently tugging you back.

The stranger’s eyes widen further as understanding seems to dawn. His eyes flick over the royal crest on Henrik’s suit jacket before moving back to your face, a hint of panic in his gaze.

Before you can offer any reassurance, a voice calls out sharply from behind the man.

“Oscar! What are you doing, mate? We’ve got the strategy briefing in five!”

You watch as the man — Oscar, apparently — glances reluctantly over his shoulder to where a thin harried man bearing a McLaren team pass stands tapping his foot impatiently.

Oscar’s hands slip from your waist as he takes a small step back. “Sorry, I—”

But whatever he was going to say gets lost as the man strides forward, clapping a firm hand on Oscar’s shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go. No time for chatting up fans when we’ve got quali coming up.”

Oscar allows himself to be steered away, casting one last, almost wistful look back at you before the brisk man hustles him around the corner.

You stare after them for a long moment before Henrik’s voice breaks through your daze once more.

“Your Highness, are you injured at all? Shall I call for a medic?”

You blink, shaking your head quickly as heat floods your cheeks. Honestly, they must think you a simpleton, standing here gaping after a man you collided with.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him quickly. “Just a bit clumsy this morning it seems.”

You force out a breathy laugh, hoping your flaming cheeks can be explained away as embarrassment from your blunder.

Henrik eyes you skeptically for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But please be more careful, Your Highness. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

You nod contritely before allowing Henrik to usher you back towards the Haas garage, your other bodyguard falling smoothly back in step behind you.

As you near the garage, you spot your family gathered by the pit wall, watching as a group of track marshals examines a particularly suspicious drain cover. Your younger siblings all turn as one to look at you, eerily in sync.

The knowing looks on their faces make you shudder. Of the many curses of growing up in a big family, the inability to keep secrets ranks near the top. You’re sure they’ll have the truth out of you before long.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N,” your younger brother Christian remarks wryly as you reach them. “Have a nice stroll?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. Barely.

“Lovely, thank you,” you reply breezily instead, moving to stand between your mother and Isabella.

You determinedly avoid meeting any of your siblings’ gazes, focusing on the timing sheets instead. But you can feel their curious stares boring into you.

“You look a bit flushed, darling. Are you feeling quite alright?” Your mother murmurs, pressing a hand to your forehead in concern.

“Just peachy!” You chirp in response, internally cringing at the unnatural brightness in your tone.

From your other side, Isabella leans in, voice sly. “You do seem rather … distracted. Anything you want to share with the class?”

You glance at her sharply, taking in her knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes in warning, but Isabella just smiles innocently.

“Oh leave your sister be,” your mother chides. “I’m sure Y/N is just overwhelmed by the excitement of experiencing her first Grand Prix.”

You make a noncommittal noise of agreement, turning your focus back to the timing sheets. Isabella elbows you subtly and you pointedly ignore her, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

You’re immensely thankful when the Haas PR rep appears again, ushering you towards the back to “give the team space to prepare for qualifying,” and drawing your family’s attention away from you.

You trail after your family to the cordoned off hospitality area, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the proffered cooler.

As the mechanics spring into action around you, Isabella sidles up next to you again, playful smile still in place.

“Soooo,” she drawls, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Who’s got you all flustered then?”

You nearly choke on your water, whipping your head to face her. “What? No one! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Even to your own ears, the denial sounds feeble. Isabella merely arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.

You huff out a breath, scanning the room quickly to ensure none of your other family members are in earshot before hissing under your breath. “I may have accidentally careened into a McLaren crew member during my walk.”

Isabella’s grin turns positively feline. “Oh, do tell ...”

“There’s nothing to tell!” you insist, face flaming once more. “We collided and his reflexes were quick enough to catch me before I fell. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure that blush is just because you’re so very embarrassed by your clumsiness and nothing else.”

You scowl and take a long swig of your water.

Isabella chuckles. “So was this mystery McLaren man at least handsome?”

You nearly choke again. “Isabella!” You admonish under your breath.

She holds up both hands innocently, still grinning. “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. No judgment here, promise.”

You narrow your eyes, considering her carefully. Before you can think better of it, you mutter reluctantly, “He … wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking.”

“Aha!” Isabella crows triumphantly. “I knew it!”

You shush her frantically, glancing around to make sure her outburst didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

“Do you know his name at least?” Isabella asks, slightly more quietly this time.

You hesitate before admitting, "... Oscar, I think. His colleague called him that.”

Isabella hums thoughtfully. “Very mysterious ...”

You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder. “Oh stop it. Can we please just drop this?”

“Of course, of course,” Isabella relents, though the impish twinkle remains in her eye.

You’re prevented from further interrogation by the start of qualifying. You rejoin your family, studiously keeping your gaze away from your siblings’ knowing looks.

You determinedly put the morning’s events from your mind, focusing on Kevin’s qualifying efforts. Though you can’t help the occasional wish that the handsome stranger from McLaren — Oscar — was the one flying around the track instead.

The session proceeds fairly predictably, with the top teams claiming the top spots and the backmarkers bringing up the rear.

As Kevin pulls into the garage after qualifying 17th, you paste on an encouraging smile.

“Excellent job out there, Kevin! You and the team should be very proud.”

Kevin smiles wryly back at you. “You’re too kind, Your Highness. But I think we all know 17th is nothing to celebrate for a team with our aspirations.”

You nod sympathetically. “Of course, there’s always room for improvement. But you showed admirable pace given the circumstances.”

Kevin inclines his head gratefully at your measured response. “You have a bright future ahead as queen with such judicious words.”

You thank him sincerely for the compliment before your family takes their leave, the day’s obligations finally complete.

As you all pile into the waiting cars, Isabella leans over and whispers, “Do you think Kevin would’ve qualified higher if Haas wasn’t so slow?”

You have to smother your snort of laughter into your hand.

“Without question,” you whisper back. “I think a snail could qualify ahead of Haas at this point.”

Isabella dissolves into muffled giggles next to you as the cars pull away from the circuit, leaving the chaotic world of Formula 1 behind. At least until tomorrow.

***

You stare contemplatively out the car window as the city lights of Melbourne streak by in the darkness. Despite your family’s teasing, you can’t seem to remove a certain McLaren crew member from your thoughts.

Oscar. Even his name sends a flutter through your stomach.

You know it’s foolish to get caught up over a brief collision with a stranger. And yet … those eyes. You can’t shake the connection you felt in that moment, however fleeting.

The car slows to a stop outside your hotel and you make a split-second decision. Turning to your mother, you adopt your most winsome tone.

“Mor, I was hoping you might allow me to go out for the evening. To experience the Melbourne nightlife before we depart.”

Your mother’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Go out? Alone?”

You rush to reassure her. “Oh no, I’ll take Henrik and Simone with me of course. I would just love the chance to explore the city a bit, like a normal young woman.”

You see a flash of understanding on your mother’s face and press your advantage. “In fact, didn’t you and Far meet during a pub crawl?”

Pink stains your mother’s cheeks but her lips quirk up. “I suppose we did. But those were different times ...”

“Please Mor?” You plead. “When will I have a chance like this again?”

Your mother regards you shrewdly for a long moment before sighing. “Oh very well. But Henrik and Simone must accompany you at all times. And I want you back by midnight at the latest.”

You beam, leaning over to smack a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll stay safe.”

As you exit the car, your younger brother Christian pipes up from behind you. “Hey, can I come too?”

“Absolutely not,” your mother shuts him down swiftly, leveling a quelling look at his crestfallen face.

You hide a smile as you sweep into the hotel to change, giddiness rising in your chest. A night out is just what you need to clear your head from a certain handsome distraction.

An hour later you slide into the backseat of one of the discreet royal security vehicles, now wearing jeans, heels, and a silky camisole, your long hair spilling over your shoulders.

Henrik raises his eyebrows at your outfit but doesn’t comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the club district.

When you arrive, the bouncer’s eyes widen at the royal crests adorning your bodyguards’ suits. But a few quick words from Henrik and you’re granted access without a fuss.

The heavy beat of the music washes over you as you enter the fashionable club. Bright lights flash hypnotically over the crowded dance floor. You glance back at Henrik and Simone stationed near the entrance, allowing the music to carry you further inside.

You weave your way to the bar, excitement simmering in your veins. Tonight you’re just Y/N, anonymous clubgoer. No titles, no expectations, no watching eyes judging your every move.

Well, except for your bodyguards of course. But they’re discreet enough to give you space.

You’re so lost in the heady freedom of anonymity that you don’t notice the nearby figure doing a double take. But as you step up to the bar, waiting to order, a now familiar voice sounds behind you.

“Y-Your Highness!” He stammers, nearly dropping the drinks he just received. “I mean, Princess, uh Crown Princess? Sorry, I’m not actually sure—”

You whirl around to see Oscar standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a button-down and jeans.

“Oscar!” You gasp, a smile breaking across your face unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Pink stains Oscar’s tanned cheeks. “Ah, well my mates from the team wanted to go out and blow off some steam before the race tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But what brings Denmark’s future queen out to the clubs?”

You shrug lightly, grin turning impish. “Can’t a girl just want to dance and have some fun?”

Oscar’s eyes gleam with understanding. “Suppose she can. Well then, may I get you a drink … er ...”

He trails off, clearly unsure how to address you in this unusual context.

You take pity on him and lean in conspiratorially. “Tonight, I’m just Y/N. No need for fancy titles.”

Relief flashes across Oscar’s face and he smiles. “Y/N it is.”

Soon you’ve got drinks in hand and are chatting easily at a tall table beside the dance floor. Oscar is witty and charming, and laughs freely at your sarcastic commentary about Formula 1.

You’re amazed by how at ease you feel in his presence, the crown’s ever-present weight lifted from your shoulders. With Oscar, you’re not an heiress apparent, but just a girl talking to a boy she really really likes.

When he asks what you think of McLaren, you perk up eagerly. “Oh yes, what is it exactly that you do there? Are you an engineer or mechanic of some sort?”

Oscar’s eyes shutter briefly and he clears his throat. “Ah, something like that. Mostly just tinkering to try and make the car faster.”

He steers the conversation to safer waters before you can inquire further. You make a mental note to look up the full McLaren staff list later and figure out his specific role.

The night flies by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. Oscar gamely joins you on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on your waist as you sway together.

When at last you note the time, disappointment sinks heavy in your gut. Oscar’s face mirrors your own regret as he insists on walking you to meet your bodyguards.

Outside the club, you turn to him reluctantly. “I wish this didn’t have to end. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Oscar shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “Would … would you want to meet up again tomorrow? Maybe outside the McLaren garage before the race?”

Your face lights up. “I’d love that.” Overcome by boldness, you lean in and brush a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Oscar’s hand drifts up to his cheek, eyes dazed. “Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You bid him goodnight before allowing Henrik and Simone to usher you into the waiting car, unable to keep the giddy smile from your face the entire ride back.

***

The next morning, you awake with a smile stretching across your face. The memory of Oscar’s brown eyes gazing into yours as you swayed together in the club fills you with warmth.

As you dress and prepare to head to the circuit, an idea strikes. There’s no rule saying you have to spend the entire pre-race hours cooped up in the Haas garage after all.

You slip into the hotel dining room, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m afraid the petrol fumes in the garage were giving me a dreadful headache yesterday. I think I’ll take a walk around the paddock this morning for some fresh air before the race.”

Your mother’s brows furrow in concern. “Oh dear, that won’t do at all! Yes, a nice walk sounds wise.”

You thank her profusely on your way out, hiding your triumphant smile until the door closes behind you. Phase one complete.

You hold yourself back from rushing through the paddock once at the circuit, maintaining a sedate royal pace. But inside, excitement bubbles through your veins at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

As you make your way to the McLaren garage, your steps falter at the larger-than-life image emblazoned on the wall. Oscar beams back at you, brown hair just barely poking out from under his McLaren cap. The block letters beside the photo proclaim OSCAR PIASTRI #81.

You press a hand to your mouth to smother your gasp. Oscar is a driver? Your Oscar?

Speak of the devil, you spot him emerging from the garage, already dressed in fireproofs with his race suit half hanging around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you, lips curving into that boyish grin that makes your knees weak.

“Good morning!” He chirps, moving in for a brief hug.

You return the hug distractedly, still grappling with this new discovery. As you pull back, you arch a questioning brow at him.

“So … you’re a driver. Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning that last night.”

Pink stains Oscar’s cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, right. I may have omitted certain details about my role here.” His eyes turn pleading. “I hope you can forgive me? I just liked talking to someone who didn’t already know everything about me for once.”

You regard him thoughtfully before allowing a teasing grin to emerge. “Well, I suppose I can understand the appeal of a fresh slate. And it’s not as if I was fully forthcoming either.”

Oscar’s shoulders sag in relief. “Too right. Quite the pair we make, Princess.” His eyes dance playfully.

You open your mouth to respond but are interrupted by a shout from the garage. “Oscar! Debrief in two minutes, let’s go!”

Oscar smiles apologetically. “Duty calls. But let’s continue this later?”

At your nod, he squeezes your hand briefly before jogging back inside. You make your way back to Haas, butterflies still fluttering wildly.

Once the race starts, you have to work to restrain your enthusiasm as Oscar quickly moves up the field. More than once, you catch your lips curving upward as he deftly overtakes a competitor, and have to rearrange them into careful neutrality.

A discreet glance sideways shows your family members focused intently on Kevin’s efforts in the Haas. You allow yourself a small smile. Watching Oscar race with no one the wiser feels like getting away with something deliciously secretive.

The checkered flag finally waves after 58 intense laps. Your heart leaps as the McLaren crew begins celebrating Oscar’s podium finish. You have to force yourself not to join the applause as he climbs from his car, settling for clasping your hands tightly to contain your glee.

Meanwhile, Kevin finishes in 18th position while his teammate Nico suffered a mechanical retirement. You paste on an encouraging smile, tamping down your excitement over Oscar’s podium.

“Nice recovery there at the end, Kevin. Surely the team can build on this result in the next race.”

Privately, you think Haas would be lucky to keep a wheel attached long enough to make it to the end of a full race, let alone fight for points. But you keep that thought to yourself for now.

As your family rises to congratulate a dejected Kevin on completing the race, Isabella leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Not a great showing, I dare say. Perhaps you are considering transferring allegiance to a certain papaya team instead?”

You press your lips together to contain your smile. Trust Isabella to have guessed your conflicted loyalties.

“Indeed,” you murmur back. “One must be open to supporting all teams in the spirit of global unity.”

Isabella’s eyes dance with mirth, but she simply links her arm through yours, giving a sage nod. “Spoken like a true diplomat.”

As the celebrations kick off for Oscar’s first home race podium, you sneak glances over your shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of him through the chaos.

Someday soon, perhaps you’ll be able to cheer for him openly. For now, you hold the image of his smiling face in your mind as you reluctantly follow your family back out of the disappointing Haas garage.

If nothing else, this surprise-filled weekend has shown you that your heart will not be so easily commanded. And it seems to have rather fixated itself on a certain charismatic McLaren driver.

***

You hover near the paddock exit, half hoping to catch one last glimpse of Oscar before your departure. Your family made their polite farewells to the Haas team and you seized the opportunity to slip away.

You’ve just resigned yourself to missing him when hurried footsteps sound behind you.

“Princess! Wait up!”

You whirl around to see Oscar jogging towards you, face freshly showered but still flushed with elation. He draws up before you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave,” you smile brightly. “I had to come say a proper congratulations for your podium first!”

Oscar ducks his head bashfully even as his eyes shine. “And, well, I hoped maybe you were cheering me on out there today?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “You know I can’t answer that. But I will say you drove brilliantly and I’m so pleased for your result.”

Oscar’s grin widens, clearly reading between the lines of your diplomatic answer.

“Well I’m glad I could end your weekend on a high note after the woeful introduction to Formula 1 from Haas.”

You groan good-naturedly. “Ugh yes, I think Kevin was grateful when I finally made myself scarce from that garage of doom.”

Oscar chuckles before his expression turns wistful. “I suppose this means you’ll be heading back to Denmark now though?”

You shake your head, curls spilling over your shoulders. “Oh no, we’re spending a few more weeks visiting my mother’s family in Tasmania first.”

At Oscar’s look of surprise, you elaborate, “My mother is originally Australian. Her family is from Tasmania.”

Understanding dawns on Oscar’s face. “Well how about that! Danish royalty certainly seems to have a taste for us Aussies.” He winks playfully.

Heat blooms in your cheeks but you rally to return his banter. “I suppose we do. Though from what I hear, McLaren seemed rather keen on Danes once upon a time as well.”

A rather in-depth Google search earlier that day taught you that Kevin Magnussen once raced for the papaya team. You rather wish he never left, if only so you did not have to suffer through the tedium of being in the Haas garage for the past two days.

Oscar barks out a laugh, eyes dancing with mirth. “Too right, you’ve got me there.” His laughter fades to a soft smile. “But I can’t say I blame my predecessors in the slightest.”

The tender look in his eyes makes your breath catch. Before you lose your nerve, you hurriedly dig out your phone.

“I should give you my number. So we can keep in touch.”

Oscar’s face lights up as he scrambles for his own phone. You quickly swap devices, inputting your contact info and trying not to notice how his name looks lighting up your screen.

Once you’ve traded phones again, an awkward silence descends. You clutch your phone tightly, unsure how to say goodbye when this thing between you feels so new and delicate.

Oscar clears his throat, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “Well, I suppose I should let you get on your way ...”

“Right, yes ...” You trail off, searching for the right words. Because as silly as it sounds, the thought of not seeing Oscar’s smile for who knows how long makes your chest unexpectedly tight.

Acting on impulse, you step forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Oscar’s arms immediately curl around your back, clutching you close.

You breathe him in, imprinting this moment in your memory. The noise of the paddock fades away until it’s just this — the two of you suspended in time.

Far too soon, Oscar pulls back reluctantly. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Travel safely, Princess. I’ll see you soon.” His voice holds a promise.

You nod, not trusting your voice. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk steadily towards the exit. Your bodyguards fall in step behind you.

You don’t look back, though you can feel Oscar’s gaze on you until you disappear from view. As your car pulls away, you finally chance a glance backwards, just in time to see Oscar still watching wistfully after you.

Your breath escapes in a shaky exhale and you clutch your phone like a lifeline. Everywhere else suddenly feels much too far away.

***

You collapse back onto your bed, phone already pressed to your ear before the first ring even finishes. Oscar picks up on the second, voice warm and teasing as always.

“Eager today, are we Princess?”

You roll your eyes even as your lips quirk up. “Oh hush, you know you wait just as anxiously for my calls.”

Oscar’s answering chuckle makes your heart skip a beat. “Guilty. I’ll gladly admit your voice is the highlight of my day.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as you get comfortable against the pillows. “Flatterer. Now distract me from the drudgery of royal life with some F1 gossip. How go things in the glamorous world of racing?”

“Oh where to even start!” Oscar launches eagerly into the latest paddock drama — teammate clashes, contract disputes, and salacious hookups. You listen eagerly, living vicariously through his tales.

“Meanwhile Lando has been his usual chaos gremlin self ...” Oscar continues, recounting his teammate’s latest antics.

You laugh until your sides ache, picturing the outrageous scenes. “Honestly, I don’t know how McLaren copes with you two!”

“We keep things lively, that’s for sure,” Oscar agrees, audibly grinning. “Although we’d love an even livelier paddock with a certain Danish princess around again ...”

He leaves the statement hanging tentatively. You chew your lip, heart racing as you gather your courage.

“Funny you should mention that … I’ve been thinking lately that it would be nice to attend a race again soon.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale crackles through the phone. “Really? You’d come to another race?” His voice turns playful. “Any particular reason for the sudden interest?”

You laugh, hoping he can’t hear the breathlessness in it. “Oh you know, miss the atmosphere, the excitement ...” You pause before adding softly, “Getting to see a certain Aussie driver again.”

Oscar makes a pleased little noise that sends butterflies swirling wildly. “Well I’m sure that driver would be absolutely thrilled to see your face in the paddock again.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, emboldening you further. “As it happens, my godmother is the Queen of Belgium. So it should be easy enough to arrange an appearance at the Belgian Grand Prix.”

“That’s perfect!” Oscar enthuses. “Spa is one of my favorite circuits too. Say you’ll be there?”

His boyish eagerness melts your heart. “I’ll speak to our communications secretary this week. I’m sure they can make it happen.”

“Brilliant.” The tender hope in Oscar’s voice finds its mirror in your own thudding heart. A new chapter is beginning.

You chat longer about lighter topics until Oscar reluctantly says he should get some rest before practice tomorrow.

“I suppose I should let you go then ...” He trails off reluctantly, neither wanting to be the one to end the call.

You clutch the phone tighter, casting wildly for an excuse to keep him on the line. “Wait, you haven’t told me what ridiculous outfit Lando is wearing today!”

Oscar huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, words don’t do justice to the monstrosity. I’ll send pictures so you can experience it fully.”

“It’s a deal.” You know you’re only delaying the inevitable, but the thought of hanging up is unbearable.

Just then, the bedroom door crashes open and your younger brother Christian strolls in.

“Hey Y/N, Mor wants to know if … is that Oscar you’re talking to?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

You frantically shoo him away but Christian swoops in and plucks the phone from your hand. “Sorry mate, gotta steal my sister back. Royal duties call and all that. But great chatting, bye now!”

Before you can wrestle the phone away, Christian ends the call with a cheeky grin.

You smack his shoulder indignantly. “You little brat! I was right in the middle of important diplomatic relations!”

Christian just cackles gleefully. “Oh yeah, I could tell. Your dopey romantic sighing was a big clue.” He laughs harder at your outraged stammers.

“Just you wait until you’re madly pining over someone, I’ll get my revenge,” you threaten.

But inside, not even Christian’s teasing can diminish your euphoria. The promise of seeing Oscar again soon eclipses all else.

***

Your heels click rapidly over the pavement as you sweep through the Spa paddock gates. Bodyguards trail discreetly behind but you barely notice them, eyes scanning the bustling crowd for one face.

And then you see him. Oscar stands just ahead, back turned as he bounces on his toes, head swiveling in search of you.

Joy bubbles up in your chest. You break into a run, calling his name. “Oscar!”

He whips around, eyes lighting up when they land on you. His arms open wide and you launch yourself into them with a breathless laugh.

Strong hands grip your waist, swinging you in an enthusiastic circle before setting you back on your feet. Neither of you make any move to step back, standing tangled together.

“You came,” Oscar murmurs, voice awed like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

You lean into him, his warmth chasing away the months spent missing him. “Of course. After all, I made a promise to a certain driver.”

Oscar’s answering smile outshines the sun. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, keeping one hand entwined with yours.

“Well then, allow me to escort you inside properly.” He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before leading you towards the paddock entrance.

After scanning your VIP guest pass, courtesy of Oscar, you pass through security hand-in-hand, giddy smiles fixed in place.

The paddock buzzes with activity but you only have eyes for Oscar as he guides you straight to the McLaren garage.

Mechanics glance up curiously as you enter behind Oscar. He squeezes your hand, leaning in close.

“Ready to meet the team, Princess?” At your answering nod, he steers you confidently through the organized chaos.

You run a suddenly nervous hand over your hair as Oscar approaches a genial looking man conversing with a slimmer bearded man.

“Zak, Andrea — there’s someone special I want you both to meet.”

The two men turn, eyebrows raising in polite expectation. Oscar gently tugs you forward.

“This is Crown Princess Y/N of Denmark. Y/N, meet Zak Brown, our CEO, and Andrea Stella, team principal.”

Zak’s eyebrows climb higher but he recovers smoothly, extending a hand. “Your Royal Highness, welcome. We’re honored to host you in our garage.”

You return his firm handshake. “The honor is mine, thank you. Your team has been so welcoming.”

After greeting Andrea as well, Oscar steers you further inside just as a mop of fluffy brown hair zooms by.

“Oscar, mate! There you are, I’ve been ...” The words die on his lips as he spots you, mouth falling open comically. His eyes dart between you and Oscar rapidly.

“Lando, come meet the princess!” Oscar calls out cheekily.

Lando snaps his jaw shut, looking utterly bewildered but offering you a hasty bow. “Your Highness! I mean, lovely to meet you, really.”

Amusement flickers through you at his gobsmacked expression. Oscar shoots you a playful wink over Lando’s shoulder as he scrambles to regain composure.

“But, wait.” Lando glances between you again in confusion. “You mean all those times you cooed ’good morning, Princess’ over the phone … you were talking to an actual princess!”

Oscar bursts out laughing while you press a hand to your mouth to smother your own giggles. Lando flushes but eventually joins in your laughter.

After extracting a promise to explain everything later, Oscar steers you away so they can focus on final prep.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of during the race before I have to suit up,” he promises, getting you settled with refreshments.

The anticipation builds until finally the cars are screaming away from the grid in a blur of color. Your nails dig into your palms as positions shuffle wildly on the first lap.

But soon Oscar settles into a rhythm, battling wheel to wheel with Lewis Hamilton. You’re on your feet with every overtake, yelling yourself hoarse.

The final laps loom with Oscar still fighting for a podium finish. But suddenly disaster strikes for the leaders. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc collide attempting to lap a backmarker on the Kemmel Straight.

You watch in disbelief as both the Red Bull and Ferrari limp to a stop off the track, clearing the path for Oscar to sweep through into the lead.

The McLaren garage roars in elation as Oscar maintains the gap and finally, finally crosses the line to claim his maiden Grand Prix win.

Chaos erupts as a stampede of papaya uniforms makes its way towards parc fermé but Oscar’s performance coach Kim grasps your arm urgently. “Quickly, he’ll want you there for this!”

Kim rushes you down towards the area where Oscar guides his car to a stop. He vaults out, pumping both fists and clambering atop the chassis in triumph.

Your breath catches at the sight of his windswept hair and exultant grin. As McLaren swarms Oscar, his gaze catches on you at the barrier, pressed close by Kim.

In two strides Oscar is right there, joy and adrenaline shining in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek … and then his lips find yours.

The roar around you fades away. For one perfect, suspended moment, your world narrows down to Oscar’s lips slanted over yours, his fingers tangled in your hair.

When you break apart, eyes flying open, the full reality crashes back in. But with Oscar’s breathless laugh warming your skin, the rest of the world no longer matters.

***

You pace the plush hotel carpet, nerves jangling as you await the imminent video call with your family. Since Oscar’s podium kiss yesterday, you’ve been hyper aware of your phone blowing up with notifications but too anxious to check them.

A brisk knock precedes your royal secretary poking his head in. “The call is ready whenever you are, Your Highness.”

Squaring your shoulders, you take a seat at the polished desk as the large monitor springs to life. Your family’s faces fill the screen, ranging from sympathetic (Isabella) to highly amused (Christian).

Before you can get a word in, the royal PR advisors elbow into view, expressions like thunderclouds.

“Your Royal Highness, might we have a word about this … incident from the race?” The chief advisor’s tone drips disapproval.

Ice trickles down your spine but you keep your face neutral. “Of course.”

“I trust you’ve seen the coverage?” At your hesitant nod, the advisor continues, “Then you understand what an embarrassment this is, how damaging to the dignity of the crown.”

You clench your jaw, anger rising. But he barrels on, “Such scandalous behavior, and broadcast globally! You must see how this recklessness reflects poorly on Denmark.”

The rest of the advisors murmur emphatic agreement. Your cheeks burn in humiliation even as you desperately blink back furious tears.

“The narrative has already spiraled out of control. Such associations cannot be tolerated from the future queen.”

The scorn in his tone ignites your temper. But before you can spit out a scathing retort, a commanding voice interrupts.

“Enough!” Your father’s stern face fills the screen, pinning the advisors with an icy glare. They recoil, mouths snapping shut.

Satisfied, your father turns to you, expression softening. “My dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. What matters most is that you’re happy.”

Hope flickers tentatively inside you as the advisors gape. But your father silences them with another quelling look.

“I know a thing or two about duty versus matters of the heart.” His eyes soften, finding your mother. “I’ll not see my daughter denied the same chance at love that brought me such joy.”

Your mother smiles gently, affection shining through the screen. On her other side, Isabella squeezes her shoulder in solidarity.

The fight drains from the advisors under your father’s resolute gaze. With a few grumbled concessions, they disconnect from the call.

Your muscles uncoil in relief as your attention returns fully to your family. Isabella waggles her eyebrows.

“Soooo … looks like someone had an eventful race!”

Heat floods your cheeks but you can’t suppress a giddy smile. “It just sort of happened in the heat of the moment.”

“This Oscar must be something special,” your mother remarks kindly.

Your insides turn to mush at the memory of Oscar’s kiss. “He really is. I can’t explain it, but it feels … right with him.”

Your normally stoic mother looks touched. “Then he has my blessing.”

On her other side, Christian smirks. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re in looooove.” He exaggerates a swoon, cackling when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hush dear, let your sister be happy,” your mother chides, swatting his shoulder before smiling indulgently. “Reminds me of another young prince long ago, besotted with an Australian girl ...”

Your father laughs, eyes crinkling. “Too right, darling. Clearly our Y/N takes after me.” He winks at you. “We Danes do seem to have a weakness for Aussies.”

You groan good-naturedly at the gentle teasing, buoyed by your family’s support. With their love behind you, the rest no longer matters.

You conclude the call with hugs blown through the screen and a heart full to bursting. No matter what the coming days hold, you won’t be facing them alone.

Later, a hesitant knock interrupts your contented musings. You open the door to find Oscar, eyebrows pinched anxiously.

But at the sight of your radiant smile, the tension melts from his frame. His hands settle comfortably on your waist like coming home.

“So ...” he begins, nose scrunching up adorably, “Think your family will let you keep me around?”

You answer by pulling him down into a long, sweet kiss. When you finally separate, foreheads pressed together, Oscar sighs out, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your answering laugh fills the space between you as he lifts you effortlessly into a spinning embrace. The setting sun gilds the hotel room in amber, basking you both in warmth and promise.

Let the world say what they will. You’ve made your choice, the only one your heart would allow. And with Oscar’s arms encircling you now, you know you’re right where you belong.

***

“Come on, it’ll be great! When’s the next chance you’ll get to come down under?”

Oscar’s pleading face fills your laptop screen, bottom lip poking out beseechingly. You try to stand firm, but your resolve is crumbling.

“I don’t know … won’t I be imposing on your family time?”

Oscar waves a hand breezily. “Nah, Mum and Dad have been hassling me nonstop to bring you for a visit. Trust me, they’ll smother you with Aussie hospitality.”

You chew your lip thoughtfully. A trip together does sound tempting. And you’re endlessly curious to see where Oscar grew up.

Sensing your wavering, Oscar presses his advantage. “There’s so much I want to show you! The beach I learned to surf at, my favorite cafes and shops ...”

His voice turns coaxing. “And just think, falling asleep under the southern stars ...”

Your heart flutters traitorously. Oscar knows your weakness for astronomy. With a defeated huff, you nod.

“Oh alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll see if I can clear my schedule for next month.”

Oscar whoops, pumping a victorious fist. “Yes! You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The rest of the call passes in eager planning until Oscar reluctantly disconnects to start his day. As the screen goes dark, butterflies swell in your stomach. A whole trip together!

The weeks crawl by agonizingly until finally you’re boarding the royal jet bound for Melbourne, giddiness rising with each mile.

Oscar is waiting when you deplane, sweeping you up joyfully the second your feet hit the tarmac. You cling to him, breathing in the scent of home you’ve missed so much.

As the hug extends well past proper etiquette, your bodyguard Henrik pointedly clears his throat. You spring apart, blushing when you meet his knowing gaze.

Oscar just grins unrepentantly, grabbing your hand to lead you towards where his parents are waiting.

You spot them immediately — Oscar’s smile mirrored on his mother’s face and his kind eyes reflected in his father’s crinkled gaze. They hurry over, clasping your hands warmly.

“Your Royal Highness, we’re so honored to finally meet you!” His mother gushes. “Oscar’s told us so much, I feel as if we know you already.”

You smile, charmed by her easy manner. “The honor is mine, Mrs. Piastri. Please, call me Y/N.”

She pats your hand merrily. “Of course, dear! And you must call me Nicole. Now come, let’s get you home and settled.”

The ride to Oscar’s childhood home passes quickly, filled with lively conversation. His parents’ sweet banter reminds you so much of your own.

When you arrive, Nicole loops her arm through yours, bustling you inside. “We’ve freshened up Oscar’s old room for you, I do hope it’s comfortable.”

You take in the posters of racing legends and cricketers adorning the walls, the cluttered bookshelves full of well-loved texts. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Excellent!” Nicole claps her hands. “Now, you two get settled. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

She disappears down the hall with a parting wink that makes Oscar flush beet red. You stifle a laugh and let him tug you further inside.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and easy laughter. Chris’ eyes twinkle knowingly as he refills your wine.

“We’re just delighted to finally meet the girl who’s made our Oscar so happy.”

Oscar covers his face in exaggerated mortification, but his fingers squeeze yours under the table. You lift your joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles when his parents aren’t looking.

The peaceful mood continues as Nicole breaks out photo albums. You coo over baby pictures of Oscar, smothering laughter at his gap-toothed grin and wild hair.

Yawns eventually take over and everyone reluctantly shuffles off to bed. In Oscar’s room, you borrow his old karting club shirt to sleep in.

Oscar looks up from turning down the duvet, eyes darkening as he takes you in. “This was a terrible idea, you looking so cute in my clothes.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose before climbing into bed and patting the space next to you. Oscar obliges, pulling you close and nuzzling into your hair.

Outside the window, the infinity of the southern skies beckons. But here in Oscar’s arms, you have everything you need.

Oscar hums contentedly, dropping a kiss to your hair as your eyes drift closed.

“Sweet dreams, my princess,” he whispers. You float off cradled in his warmth, perfectly at peace.

The rest of the trip passes in blissful domesticity — lazy beach days, intimate dinners, long talks under the stars. Meeting Oscar’s family feels like coming to a second home.

On your last night, you creep outside to sit curled against him on the back porch, committing every detail to memory.

“I don’t want this to end,” you whisper into the quiet night.

Oscar presses a lingering kiss below your ear. “It’s only the start for us.”

And basking in his touch, the infinite potential of the future unfolding before you, you know he’s right. This is just the beginning.

***

You smooth your hands over your dress, peering anxiously out the palace window overlooking the winding driveway. Any moment now, the car bringing Oscar should pull through the gates.

It’s his first time visiting the palace and meeting your family officially as your boyfriend. You know they’ll love him, but nerves still flutter in your chest.

The crunch of tires on gravel draws your gaze back outside. You watch Oscar emerge from the car, craning his head back to take in the towering palace facade.

Unable to wait any longer, you gather your skirts and hurry downstairs just as he steps inside the grand entryway.

Oscar turns at the click of your heels, face melting into a smile. In a few quick strides, he sweeps you into his arms, spinning you joyfully.

You cling to him, breathing in the soothing scent of home you’ve missed. When he sets you down, hands come up to frame your face tenderly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“There’s my beautiful girl. I’ve missed you so much, Princess.”

Heart swelling, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys weeks of longing. Oscar responds urgently, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

A pointed cough interrupts your reunion. You pull back to see your brother Christian smirking knowingly.

“Well now I see why you were so eager for Oscar’s visit. Should I come back later?”

You stick your tongue out at him even as a blush stains your cheeks. Taking Oscar’s hand, you lead him towards the family wing.

“Come on, everyone’s excited to finally meet you properly.”

Voices carry from the dining room as you approach. Inside, your family looks up, faces alight with warmth and curiosity.

Your father strides forward first, clasping Oscar’s hand firmly. “Oscar, welcome. We’re delighted to have you here.”

Oscar returns the handshake graciously. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.”

More greetings follow before your mother guides everyone to the table. Oscar pulls out your chair, pressing a discreet kiss to your temple as you sit. Happiness bubbles up inside at having him here with your family.

Dinner passes enjoyably, conversation flowing. Oscar charms them all effortlessly with his quick wit and humor. Laughter fills the room, the atmosphere light and intimate.

With dessert finished, your siblings seize their chance to grill Oscar playfully.

“Sooo tell us,” Isabella begins, propping her chin on her hands. “What exactly are your intentions with our dear sister?”

Oscar just grins, unfazed. “Why, to make her happy every single day, of course.”

You melt at his simple sincerity, grasping his hand under the table.

“Good answer!” Christian crows. “But know if you ever hurt her, you’ll have the entire Danish army to answer to.”

Despite his teasing tone, you know Christian means every word. Oscar inclines his head solemnly.

“You have my word such a day will never come. Her happiness means everything to me.”

Your siblings appear satisfied, moving on to pepper Oscar with questions about his career and interests. He takes their antics in stride, witty comebacks drawing fond laughter from your parents.

The relaxed family atmosphere reminds you so much of that first dinner at Oscar’s childhood home. Your heart swells with quiet joy at how seamlessly he fits here too.

Eventually Oscar politely extracts you both, citing early flights in the morning. Alone in the hall, he sags against the wall in exaggerated relief.

“Whew, your family is something else! I think that interrogation was more intense than any press conference.”

You laugh and swat his shoulder before lifting on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “You were wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Oscar’s eyes soften. “Me too, Princess. Being here with you feels like home.”

Heedless of any lingering eyes, you kiss him again under the twinkling chandelier.

A loud retching sound interrupts you. “Ugh, get a room you two!” Christian complains, dodging your swat.

Oscar just tugs you closer with a chuckle. “Don’t worry mate, I plan to.”

He silences Christian’s protests with another searing kiss. And surrounded by Oscar’s warmth, you can’t bring yourself to care who sees.

***

Moonlight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. You lay curled against Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his heart.

The steady rhythm soothes you, but your own heart feels anything but calm. There’s something you need to discuss, but nerves stall your tongue.

Sensing your tension, Oscar’s hand comes up to sift gently through your hair. “Penny for your thoughts, love?”

You lean into his touch, gathering courage. “I was just thinking about the future. Our future.” You twist to meet his gaze. “I know it’s still early days for us, but if this continues to get more serious ...”

You trail off uncertainly, but Oscar’s eyes are warm with encouragement. Bolstered, you continue.

“There are certain expectations that come with being attached to the heir to the throne. Traditions and duties to learn.”

You watch Oscar’s face closely, but he simply nods thoughtfully. “Of course, that makes sense. I’m happy to learn whatever I need to.”

Relief trickles through you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, smiling softly down at him.

“For example, even before my mother was engaged to my father, she decided to learn Danish. The protocol and duties, the public role … it was a massive life change.”

You take a bracing breath. “I don’t expect you to make such changes overnight. But someday, if this continues on the path we hope ...”

You trail off meaningfully. Oscar’s hand comes up to cradle your face. “Hey, if being with you means learning Danish, or attending stuffy banquets, or anything else, I’m in this 100%.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to build a life together.”

Emotion clogs your throat. You have to swallow thickly before responding. “Well, maybe we start small then. How about I teach you a few phrases?”

Oscar grins, pulling you back down against him. “Ja, det lyder perfekt.”

You jerk back in surprise, swatting his chest. “You brat, have you been practicing without telling me?”

Oscar’s eyes dance with laughter. “Maybe just a few key phrases. Wanted to surprise you.”

His smile turns tender. “I’d love nothing more than for you to teach me, sweetheart.”

Happiness bubbles up inside you. You snuggle closer, thinking. “Alright, let’s start simple. Like hej simply means hello.”

Oscar repeats the phrase dutifully, brow furrowing in concentration. You cover his hand with yours.

“Jeg elsker dig,” you murmur, gazing into his eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Oscar echoes. “What does it mean?”

Sudden shyness has you ducking your head. “It means I love you.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale lifts your head. He grasps both of your hands, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” he repeats reverently.

Emotion clogs your throat. You lean in, whispering against his lips, “Jeg elsker dig, Oscar.”

The kiss starts soft and unhurried, a confirmation of feelings conveyed best without words. Oscar’s arms wrap securely around you as the kiss deepens, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.

When you eventually break apart, Oscar keeps you cradled close, dropping kisses into your hair. “What else can you teach me?”

Happiness bubbles up at his tentative Danish endearment. You settle back against him, whispering translations as his steady heartbeat lulls you towards sleep.

But too soon, Oscar is reluctantly packing to leave, both clinging to these last private hours before he has to set off for the next race.

You wind yourself around him, unwilling to let go. Oscar holds you close, murmuring promises of next visits and calls into your hair.

As you finally part at the airport, his whispered “jeg elsker dig” warms you from the inside out. No matter the miles between you, your hearts remain entwined.

***

You adjust the diamond clips in your elegantly twisted updo, scanning your reflection critically. The deep blue gown hugs your frame perfectly, but nerves still flutter in your stomach.

Because tonight, Oscar will be attending his first official function as your partner — a lavish gala in honor of the new children’s hospital bearing your mother’s name.

A knock precedes Oscar peeking his head in, hands clapped over his eyes. “Safe to look?”

You smooth your skirt with a shaky exhale. “Yes, come in.”

Oscar drops his hands, mouth falling open. “Wow. You look absolutely stunning tonight, my love.”

He takes your hands, eyes roving appreciatively over you. “Going to have to beat all the envious blokes away with a stick.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Oh hush. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Piastri.”

And he does in his impeccably tailored tuxedo, hair swept back neatly. You brush a piece of imaginary lint from his lapel, nerves melting away under his warm gaze.

“Shall we?” He offers his arm gallantly. You lay your hand atop it, spine straightening.

“We shall.”

The ballroom glitters under fairy lights as you make your entrance, immediately garnering interested looks and murmurs. On your arm, Oscar draws admiring glances of his own with his rakish good looks and easy confidence.

You greet various dignitaries and philanthropists, Oscar a steady, charming presence at your side. As you speak with the hospital’s key figures, his hand at the small of your back anchors you.

But as the speeches drag on, Oscar leans in subtly. “Is it terrible I’m already bored senseless? I’d rather actually meet these kids we’re meant to be helping.”

You hide a smile behind your wine glass. The same restlessness plagues you as schmoozing patrons preen and prattle.

As dessert wraps up, an idea strikes you. You catch Oscar’s eye, tilting your head meaningfully at a side exit before excusing yourself discretely.

Understanding dawns on his face and he trails casually after you. In the entry hall, you hurry to a secluded alcove, grabbing his hand.

“Quick, while we won’t be missed. Let’s actually go see the children.”

Excitement flashes across Oscar’s face. “Brilliant thinking. Lead the way, Princess.”

Adrenaline courses through you as you sneak out to the waiting car, bodyguards eyeing you curiously.

“Rigshospitalet, please. Quickly.”

At the children’s hospital, you sweep inside, Oscar at your heels. The receptionist gapes as you approach.

“So sorry to drop by unannounced. We were hoping there might be a chance for us to visit with some of the patients?”

The receptionist’s mouth opens and closes before she stutters, “O-of course, Your Highness, right away!” Clearly your boldness has paid off.

You exchange exhilarated looks with Oscar as she pages a nurse to escort you up. On the cheery pediatric ward, you peek into rooms, greeting curious families.

At one doorway, a gasp stops you short. A little girl sits up in bed, pointing.

“Mama, it’s the princess! And her boyfriend!”

You glance at Oscar to find him rubbing his neck bashfully. Clearly his fame extends beyond the F1 sphere here.

You laugh and enter slowly. “We were hoping we might visit you, if that’s alright?”

The girl — Else — nods eagerly, blond braids bouncing. Her mother rises to curtsy but you wave her off kindly as Oscar produces a small plush racecar from his pocket, to Else’s delight.

As you chat and play with Else, joy lights up her face. For a short time, she’s just a normal girl again. Your chest aches at her bright spirit despite her poor health.

All too soon, a nurse taps her watch. As you make your goodbyes, Else throws her thin arms around your waist.

“Thank you! This was like a fairytale.” Over her head, her mother mouths a tearful thank you of her own.

You hug Else gently before kneeling down. “It was our honor. You stay strong, little one.”

Her returning whisper warms your heart. “Don’t worry, I will!”

Similar scenes play out in room after room. Your cheeks ache from smiling but it’s a welcome ache. The children’s awed joy makes the real reason for tonight crystal clear.

Watching Oscar kneel patiently as a shy boy shows him a prized toy car, your heart clenches with love. Catching your gaze, Oscar’s eyes mirror the same emotion.

Far too soon, your bodyguards notify you it’s time to return before your absence draws notice. A chorus of disappointed groans follows you out.

Back at the gala, you slip in just in time for closing toasts. No one seems the wiser about your little detour.

Under the table, Oscar squeezes your hand. The contact says it all — this is what truly matters. Not accolades or commendations, but joy brought to hurting hearts.

You know you’ll be back. Both of you. Not for galas or acclaim, but for the chance to see young faces light up, if only for a moment.

Late that night, you slow dance alone in the empty ballroom, music and laughter faded. Oscar’s arms circle you from behind, chin tucking onto your shoulder.

“I think tonight was the most important royal function I’ve ever attended,” he murmurs.

You cover his hands with yours, leaning back into him with a contented sigh. No more words need be said.

The rest of the world may see events like tonight as social currency and networking. But you hold the truth in your heart — the only currency that counts can’t be bought, only given freely through love.

***

Two Years Later

You smooth your hands over your dress, pulse thrumming as you await the imminent news conference. Just hours ago, the palace formally announced your engagement to Oscar, sending the public into a frenzy.

Now, you’re about to face the media together for the first time as an engaged couple. Press stands crowd the palace gardens, cameras poised and ready.

At your side, Oscar seems calm and collected, fingers threaded loosely with yours. But you sense the storm brewing beneath his tranquil surface.

You reach up and gently adjust his suit collar, fingers lingering on the lapels as you meet his eyes. He gives you a small, grateful smile before you both turn to face the expectant crowd.

Because today also brings another announcement — one that will upend Oscar’s world irreversibly.

Your father steps forward first to formally confirm the engagement and expound on Oscar’s character. As he returns to your side, Oscar squeezes your hand and you nod in encouragement.

Oscar clears his throat, stepping closer to the microphones. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Y/N and I are over the moon at the chance to spend our lives together.”

He gazes at you softly before continuing. “I’m truly the luckiest man in the world to have won the heart of Denmark’s lovely princess.”

You have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless then and there. Cameras flash brightly as Oscar details your romantic (and heavily abridged) love story, punctuated with charming wit.

But gradually, his mirth fades. With another fortifying hand squeeze, he steels himself for the harder part.

“While I’m elated at this new chapter ahead, it also brings difficult changes. I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1 following this season’s conclusion.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Oscar’s grip tightens as he pushes forward.

“As a member of the royal family, I will no longer be able to continue racing competitively. I am grateful to have achieved my dream this year of winning the championship.”

His voice falters briefly and your heart clenches. Racing is Oscar’s passion — having to walk away is unimaginably hard.

Oscar visibly gathers himself. “But as difficult as this is, marrying Y/N is worth any sacrifice. She is my true dream now.”

He turns to you then, eyes glistening. “The honor of being your husband eclipses any trophy or medal. You are my greatest victory.”

Emotion clogs your throat and without thinking, you wrap him in a fierce embrace. The rules of propriety fade away, only your pride and love for Oscar remain.

His arms clutch you close as flashes erupt around you. But in this moment, you see only each other.

Eventually you separate and Oscar takes your hand once more, gracing you with a tender smile. He turns back to the microphones for one last address.

“Til Danmark og det danske folk. Jeg lover at tjene jer med ære, respekt og kærlighed.”

The Danish press reacts first, visibly surprised and impressed at Oscar’s speech in their native tongue.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears at his poignant promise — to serve Denmark with honor, respect, and love.

Overcome with emotion, you step forward to the microphones as well.

“Oscar’s love for me and Denmark is clear to all who meet him. I am truly blessed to have found such a selfless, caring partner.”

Your voice wavers with feeling. “Though it grieves me to see his racing career ended prematurely, I could not be more proud of the man he is.”

You reach for Oscar’s hand, gazing at him through tear-filled eyes. “He gives up much out of love for me. I only hope I can bring him a fraction of the joy in return.”

Oscar’s fingers tighten around yours, eyes shining with affection. Cameras flash furiously at your raw display of love and emotion.

But you remain lost in Oscar’s eyes, the rest of the world fading away. In this moment, all that matters is your shared devotion and the bright future stretching before you.

Questions start flying from the excited press corps but Oscar politely extracts you both, ceding the floor to the waiting palace officials.

Alone inside once more, Oscar sags against the wall in clear emotional exhaustion. You wrap him in your arms, heart aching for the pain this transition causes.

Oscar clings to you tightly, face pressed into your hair. “I meant every word,” he whispers fiercely. “You are my whole world now.”

You draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, hoping he can see the depths of your love reflected there.

“I know, min kæreste. We’ll face this new future together.”

The answering kiss speaks what words cannot. No matter what comes, your love remains constant.

A new path lies ahead now, one you will walk hand in hand, till the end of your days.

***

Five Years Later

The roar of engines draws nearer as your car nears the Copenhagen street circuit. In the seat beside you, Oscar bounces his leg restlessly, face alight with anticipation.

In the backseat, your three-year-old daughter, Margrethe (affectionately called Maise for short), mimics her father’s excitement, chattering cheerfully about anything and everything.

You reach over to still Oscar’s jostling knee, smiling indulgently. “Easy there, we’ve barely arrived and you’re already wound up.”

Oscar shoots you a boyish grin. “Can you blame me? It’s been so long since I was last in the paddock. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Your heart swells with quiet awe once more at the sacrifices Oscar has made for your future together. While racing still runs through his veins, his duties as Crown Prince of Denmark now take precedence.

But today offers a joyous reunion, with Oscar instrumental in bringing Formula 1 racing back to Danish soil for the first time since 1962.

As the car pulls through the paddock entrance, Oscar cranes his neck eagerly, drinking in the familiar organized chaos. Before the door even opens, you hear a familiar voice shouting.

“He lives! The prodigal prince returns!” A blur of McLaren papaya hurtles towards Oscar as he steps out.

Oscar just manages to brace himself before Lando Norris tackles him in an exuberant hug. Laughter bubbles out of Oscar as he returns the embrace.

“Good to see you too, mate. It’s been way too long.”

You round the car to find Oscar’s former team already swarming him, clapping his back and jostling each other good-naturedly to greet their long-lost driver.

Oscar’s eyes shine as he falls back into easy banter, trading inside jokes and reminiscing. With Maise balanced on your hip, you hang back contentedly, letting Oscar have this moment.

As the reunion finally winds down, Lando gestures to you and Maise. “And who do we have here? Don’t tell me this little beauty is your daughter?”

Oscar beams, waving you both over. “She is indeed! Lando, meet my little girl.”

Lando pretends to stagger back in shock. “No way, our little Oscar is all grown up and domesticated now!”

Oscar shoves him playfully before sweeping Maise into his arms. “What can I say, my fast living days are behind me now.” He kisses Maise’s wavy hair, eyes finding yours. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

Your insides turn mushy at the adoration in his voice. The years have only deepened your love further.

More drivers trickle over to greet Oscar, ribbing him good-naturedly about his new royal status. But the obvious affection underlying the teasing is clear.

Zak Brown claps Oscar on the back. “It’s so good to have you back, even just for a day. You and your family should stay, watch the race from the garage!”

For a fleeting moment, naked longing flashes across Oscar’s face at the thought of experiencing race day excitement again up close.

But reality settles back in quickly, his expression turning regretful. “That’s a lovely offer, truly. But I’m afraid we’ll have to make our way to the royal box.”

He bounces Maise gently, tone wry. “Some of us have a job to do handing out trophies later.” Maise giggles and tugs at his ear happily, blissfully unaware of the wistfulness simmering beneath her father’s smile.

You slip your arm through Oscar’s, offering a comforting squeeze. His answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After more fond farewells, you exit the nostalgic bubble of the garage. Oscar pauses, taking a moment to just breathe and gather himself.

You shift Maise to your other hip, wrapping your free arm around his waist. Oscar leans into you gratefully, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Can’t believe it’s been five years already,” he murmurs. “Feels like another lifetime.”

You smile up at him sadly. “I know, my love. But look at everything you’ve accomplished for Denmark in that time. This race wouldn’t even be happening without you.”

Oscar huffs a small laugh. “Too right. Who needs driving when I’ve got you two anyway?”

He tickles Maise playfully, eliciting delighted giggles. The melancholy edge has left his eyes now, replaced by contentment.

Hand in hand, with Maise toddling happily between you, the three of you set off together towards the royal box. The Danish Grand Prix awaits, along with the bright future you continue building as a family.

This may no longer be Oscar’s world, but he now shapes the path for future generations of drivers. After the race, as Oscar graciously awards the beaming winner while Maise excitedly cheers from the side of the podium, you know this is precisely where he’s meant to be.

[pennjammin]

my, my, what big teeth you have!

JJK HALLOWEEN! tojixreader

to sum it up ❥ your infuriating roommate has a freaky little secret, and it comes to light when you walk in on him cleaning blood off your apartment floor - coincidentally, after an oversized wolf had just saved your life.

“I know his claws come out when he’s close” 🥴

song inspo: kno one - kevin gates

CONTENT: gvn violence, and they were roommates, paranormal!toji, modernau, mean af toji, werewolf!toji, masochism, pain kinks, degrading/degrading nicknames, overstim, afab!reader, enemies to luvrs, creampie, male receiving, thigh riding, banter.

word count. 9k

@cafekitsune divider <3

“Fuck, kiss me, Toji.”

You feel your hands tangling themselves in the material of his shirt. It’s almost like you are being controlled by strings, like you’re out of your body watching your limbs move on their own accord.

“D’ya even know what y’sayin’ right now, brat?” Toji questions, raising an eyebrow at you, his eyes watching your hands travel over his body.

“Did I fucking stutter?” you grit, softly hitting the large man on his solid chest.

“‘M not gonna turn y’down, but you better remember this tomorrow,” he snaps. “I don’t wanna hear no shit about me taking advantage of you, lil’ girl.”

You roll your eyes. “I will, now quit being a pussy.”

“Yeah, okay,” Toji grunts before gripping you harshly by your throat.

His palm nearly crushes your windpipe as he squeezes the pulse on the sides of your neck. Now with his hand on you, he can and does yank your face towards him. He starts off by biting your bottom lip, pulling a noise from you, which he laughs at.

“Needy bitch,” he says with a demented smile. “Haven’t even done nothin’ yet.”

You lift your hand up to hit him again but he takes his free hand and slams yours back onto your lap. At the moment you gasp, he plunges his lips onto yours. A deep, rough kiss that says he doesn’t want to treat you nicely or make you feel good - he just wants to use you.

But luckily for him, the feeling is mutual.

You groan in frustrated lust, kissing him back harshly for a moment before he begins to move his kisses across your cheek and along the shape of your jaw.

You allow him to do so, not that you have a choice with his hold on your throat.

He loosens his grip and slides his hand down a ways to give himself better access to kiss your neck.

You feel him grunt as he licks the sensitive skin, which makes you whimper, and then he immediately nicks you with his teeth. You let out a soft chirp before he silences you with another wet kiss.

“Well, that was fun,” he says against your mouth, smiling wickedly as he breaks away from you and drops his hand. “But let’s not get carried away, puss.”

You scoff at him before standing up furiously.

“Fucking cockblock,” you growl at him, before storming off to your bedroom, where you help yourself pop the bubble of fire that had grown in your stomach.

You make sure to moan loudly to let him know exactly what he’s missing, and he appreciates it, as he stands outside of your bedroom door and strokes himself to the beautiful noise.

As you cum, there’s only one sentence burning in your mind: You hate Toji Fushiguro.

SIX MONTHS LATER. HALLOWEEN NIGHT.

“Mother Gothel is the victim in Tangled.”

Gojo, your friend, drives you and the lot of your friends down a dark, winding hill. You're on the way home from a party and he's the only one sober; unfortunately this means he’s very obnoxiously himself and trying to push your buttons.

"Here we go," groans Shoko in the back seat.

"Satoru," a voice scolds - Geto. "Please shut the fuck up."

"I will not until you all agree with me," he holds up a long finger, matter-of-factly. "She just wanted her youth. I mean, who doesn't? Then here come these greedy sons of bitches who dig up the WHOLE flower - like, they couldn't just take one petal?"

You groan from the passenger seat and rub your temples. "She tried to kill like, four people throughout the span of the movie, Satoru."

"Yes, because they made her into a villain!" he argues passionately. "She never would've-"

And that's where it ended. The conversation, the car ride and the last normal night of your life.

Nothing but a bright beam of headlights, Satoru shouting as he attempts to swerve, brakes screeching, and then the clang of metal as you drive straight into the guard rail, all four of your bodies lurching forward.

"FUCK!" you distantly hear Satoru shouting, though your ears are ringing to the point you don’t even hear yourself crying out.

The car comes to a jolting stop, and the headlights outside do as well, shining bright in the faces of everyone in Satoru's car.

You glance around and see that everyone is okay, just a little shaken and disturbed. That’s when you jump to get out of the car - nerves aflame.

“Y/N, you could be injured, you shouldn't-”

Geto's voice grows distant as you storm around the mangled car, and your eyes land on a tall blonde and a shocked ginger boy.

"You stupid fucking bitches," you shout, pointing an accusatory finger in the air. "How the fuck didn't you see us?"

A door slams as Gojo gets out of the car to join you, appearing unscathed, except for the fact that his face is still and he has gone quiet; like cracks under ice.

"No, why the fuck were you driving in the middle of the road?" the blonde accuses back, stepping closer, but ultimately maintaining her distance.

"I was not, it was a curve," Gojo grits out. "There's literal signs that tell you to be aware of the curve, because you cannot see what is coming. Your stupid is showing."

"You-"

"It's the middle of the fucking night," you cut her off. "Don't you know you could've sent us flying off the mountain and killed us all?"

The blonde smiles, “You think I have a problem killing people, bitch?”

You lift your hand, balled in a fist, ready to approach the girl, but her hand is already at her hip. Everything happens in slow motion: you notice the black piece in her hand as she raises it into the air. You see her finger pull the trigger. You hear yourself, and your friends screaming. You see a flash of black and white.

The gun goes off, a sharp silver bullet flying out of its barrel. Several moments pass and the air grows quiet. The screams are gone and so is the sound of gunshots.

You take your hands off of your face and look around slowly. You're sure your adrenaline cannot be that high, but you know you can’t feel the gunshot wound.

Then, when you glance up, you see a wolf - not just any wolf, but one that’s pushing the size of Gojo's car.

Gojo begins shrieking and so does everyone else, while you are staring in silent astonishment.

The wolf makes a huffing noise and then you notice it nearly fall to the asphalt, before shaking its head and charging at the girl with the gun.

Her screams of terror pierce the air as she tries to pull the trigger again, but her gun jams.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," she shouts to her compadre, and the two of them scramble into the car, before pulling off while nearly running over you and the wolf.

“Well I'm glad your car still fucking works!” Gojo shouts after them, leaning against what is left of his vehicle.

You rub your eyes, trying to allow your brain to catch up to the series of events that have just taken place. When you do, you see that the wolf has disappeared. Not so much as a trace of fur or a drop of blood.

But... you can't help but wonder what kind of cosmic joke it was that this wolf had just blocked you from a bullet? Almost like it had a conscious, like it knew who you were.

Your body shakes with fear, and your adrenaline sinks you into painful withdrawals.

Geto and Shoko get out of the car and run to both you and Gojo; Shoko taking you into her arms and Geto patting Gojo on the shoulders, asking him if he is okay.

Minutes later, you hear sirens and see flashing lights. You vaguely recall being lifted into an ambulance, but after that, the next memory you have is waking up in a hospital bed, where you are told you have a minor concussion. Then, you get discharged at six in the morning.

A horrible fucking night that had been. Though you passed out for several hours in the hospital, you feel like you've gotten absolutely no sleep. Your body aches and your bed calls your name.

As you clamber in the front door, you realize that you might have disturbed your grouchy roommate. But surely, once you explain to him the hell you've just went through, he will take it easy on you.

Not. You can’t see that man having sympathy at all.

When you finally make it inside, you hardly expect to find what greets you.

Your roommate is very much awake; dark locks shadowing his face, on all fours in nothing but bottoms - dirty, ripped sweatpants. He seems to be covered in filth himself, black spots on his back and arms, mixed with sweat. You grimace.

"Toji?” you say, clearing your throat to get his attention.

He glances over his shoulder at you, but doesn’t stop what he is doing. “Morning.”

You realize now that he is on the floor because he is scrubbing it; his hands hold a soapy sponge that is stained red.

"Why are you cleaning at seven in the fucking morning?" you question, as he hardly cleans in general.

"Trying to keep our security deposit," he grunts, digging his fingernails harder into the wood. You suspect he is not so much scrubbing harder as he is trying to hide his frustration with you.

“Okay…” you say, suspicious. “Did you spill something or what?”

"Spill," he repeats; a low, condescending chuckle punctuating it. "Something like that."

You blink at him. There's something you must be missing, or he wouldn't be acting like that. Or maybe he would. He always talks to you like he thinks you are stupid.

"Anyway, how ya' feelin'?" he asks, redirecting the subject while lifting the sponge to examine the floor - which now that he has moved, you can see is covered in red streaks; some darker than others, like they are older.

"I..." you tilt your head to the side. "I feel fine. Why?"

"That crash looked pretty bad," Toji adds, brows furrowing at the spot that remains on the wood. "Took you a while to come home. Thought you died."

You stare at him, surprised he cared. "Well, you certainly didn’t bother to double check. How'd you know about the crash?"

He turns to look up at you then. "Contrary to popular belief, I do watch the news. I like to see what dumbass things my lovely fellow citizens have gotten themselves into from day to day."

"We were on the news?" you put a hand to your head. You don't remember anything between the wolf and being put in the bright ambulance, not newscasters or anything; but you’re sure Satoru had been eating up the chance to be on live TV.

"Listen, if you're going to stand there and keep asking me stupid questions, at least make yourself nice to look at." He rolls his eyes. "You look like you were hit by the car.”

You ball your fists in frustration, "Oh, you have room to talk. You look like shit yourself.” You feel your body tingle with anger. “Since you think I’m only asking stupid questions, riddle me this: why the hell are you cleaning blood off of my floor, Fushiguro?"

Toji suddenly freezes before he twists his body and pushes himself up to stand. You are tall, but he still towers over you, head nearly rubbing against the hallway ceiling.

You do not cower; instead, your eyes rake his bare torso, unwillingly, and you dig your nails into your palms at the embarrassment you feel. You always gawk at him against your will, daydreaming, ever since that night…

But your eyes come to rest on the large, maroon-crusted gape in Toji's rib cage, and your eyebrows raise to your hairline.

"A man saves your fucking life, and you're worried about a little blood," he gruffs, squeezing the sponge in his hand so tightly that a mix of blood and water is now spilling back onto the hardwood.

He doesn't seem to notice.

“Saved my life?” you ask with a dopey blink, before realizing what he means and shrinking away from him. “You… you were the- the-”

"The, the, the," Toji mocks with his tongue out, tilting his head from side to side tauntingly. "Yes, stupid girl. I took that bullet for you. A silver bullet, might I add, which is why it's taking me forever to fucking heal."

He rubs his hand over the spot and winces. “I bled for hours before my strength started to come back. Didn’t get the chance to shower, either.” He grimaces but you are hardly worried about his hygiene now.

You gulp instead. Your brain flashes memories: the sheer size of the animal as it jumped in front of you, the way it almost fell to the ground after withstanding the bullet, the screams of terror. Your brain goes stark with the overwhelming amount of questions you now have. How did he know where you were? Why the fuck is he able to turn into a wolf?

"You look like a doe in headlights," Toji quips. "Surprised that lycanthropes actually exist? That you've been living with one.” He laughs dryly. “Utter filth to you now, aren't I?"

"N-No," you shake your head quickly, unaware of what exactly you want to say. Normally you would make a quip that he’s always been utter filth to you but the words die in your throat; this is no joking matter.

Toji is mean to you, but he's never hurt you. You always thought he just treated you that way so you wouldn't try to be his friend. It had definitely worked, but now you know the truth behind his actions.

"Right," Toji scoffs. "Not even a thank you, huh?"

"I'm really sorry," you shake your head, still trying to process it. He’s a werewolf. A fucking. Werewolf.

Your head has been running since the moment of the crash. Everything’s happening so fast. What exactly are you supposed to say? Every time you thought you'd gotten a grip on your new reality, something else happens. It had not even been twelve hours since the start of it all.

"How did you know where I was?" you start, trying to pick a single point to build from.

"I Marked you," he shrugs, as if that is not only common knowledge, but also not a big deal.

"What?" you spit.

"Do you recall several months ago when you came home very drunk and we..." his fingers dance in the air as he searches for the word. "I kissed your neck?” He pauses and you nod slowly. “Well, y’were probably too fucked to remember, but I grazed you with my teeth. Not enough to Turn you, but just to claim you, so that I always know where to find you.”

"What?” you repeat the same astonished word as it is the only one that truly conveys your emotions. “You did that so you can fucking track me?”

"So I could protect you," he grunts. "But you're such a bitch. Should've just let you get shot and killed."

He rolls his eyes and bulldozes past you, heading to the kitchen. You follow him. He lets out an exasperated breath, but you could care less that you are annoying him.

"Why would you want to protect me?" you question. "You hate me."

"Exactly," he nods. "I hate you so much that I don't want anyone to be responsible for your harm, or death, except f’me."

You hear the sarcasm in his voice and it makes your blood simmer under your skin.

"You're such a dick," you scream. "You couldn't even ask me before you put some stupid spell on me?"

"It's not a spell," Toji corrects. "And you'd have never gone for it if I'd asked. Sorry, your highness."

"You are so..." you run your fingertips into your roots and scream again.

"Shut up before I give you an actual reason to scream." Toji places the sponge down in the sink and washes his hands before tapping his wet fingers on the countertop.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" you hiss. "You just go on and on about stupid fucking nonsense. First you tell me you're a fucking werewolf, or whatever you are, I don't know! Then you say you put this possession bullshit on me, and now I'm not even allowed to express my fucking feelings about all of it."

Toji laughs. He actually fucking laughs, a piercing crack that makes even the shadows recoil in fear.

You’d been standing between the kitchen and the front door. A whip of motion blur and your spine is hitting the wood of the door. You gasp harshly, a vein on your neck beginning to throb.

Toji tilts his head to the side and laughs at your speechlessness.

“Pathetic human girl,” he snaps. “What would you do without me watching over you?”

You gasp and look up at him, digging your nails into his arms, but it doesn’t even make him flinch.

“I would be just fucking fine,” you spit.

“You sure about that?” he hums. “Don’t know if you’d survive the ghouls and beasts that want your guts for dinner, y’know.” He clicks his tongue before wetting his scarred lips. “Eh, who am I kidding? I don’t give a shit - jus’ like the way my Mark looks on you.”

Your neck throbs again, a searing pain that feels like someone is putting out a cigarette on your skin.

You tilt your head to the side. “Do you? Or do you just like having a permanent reminder of kissing my neck?”

Toji’s body shakes as he laughs at you again. “I could kiss your neck again if I wanted, stupid girl.” He leans forward and huffs out warm breath over the hot Mark on your neck. “Y’know you want me to.”

Your voice gets caught in your throat. You hate this sack of shit so bad. So then, why are you purposely arching your back a bit so that your torso and stomach rubs against his?

“Not if you’re going to keep putting spells on me,” you grit defiantly.

“Brat, it’s not a spell,” he groans. “For fuck’s sake, I grow two times my normal size and gain an obsession with the moon. I don’t practice fuckin’ hoodoo.”

You roll your eyes. “Then you must want me to yourself. I mean, do all lycanthropes have the ability to Mark someone? Does it make you jealous to know someone else could have Marked me?”

Toji is silent for a moment, his eyes avoiding your face. “Fuck no. I told you it’s for your protection.”

“I think you’re lying,” you say tauntingly, lifting your knee up to gently brush the front of his sweatpants. “Oh, is that a gun? Or y’just happy to s-”

“Shut up, brat,” Toji hounds, voice now a few octaves deeper, body twitching slightly at your sudden contact.

You smile, feeling accomplished in knowing you’re getting to him.

“So Toji does feel other things besides anger,” you hum. “Jealousy, possession…”

“Hatred,” he snaps. “I fucking hate you. Hate, hate, hate. Don’t you get that? All I think about is how fucking much I hate seeing your stupid human face.”

You click your tongue, “All you think about is me? Cute.”

He growls again and then backs his body away from you, closing his eyes and shaking his head, dark locks falling on his forehead.

"I need a shower," he says off subject. "You do too. You smell like shit."

You narrow your eyes before dropping your hands from his arms, realizing they'd been unnecessarily lingering. "Are you implying you want me to shower with you?"

"Not even close," Toji turns his back and begins down the hallway. "Don't project your own desires onto me."

And then, he disappears.

When you go to take your shower, you do some pondering under the hot water as it washes away the memories of the last day.

Toji, a werewolf. That would explain his inhuman, sculpted body and height. You wonder, how long has he been one? Is he immortal?

You think of him, in his full wolf form. He had been huge. You wonder if he ever partially transforms and walks around as a human with fuzzy ears and claws. Your stomach tightens at the thought of that, and you smack your head under the water. Don’t be a weirdo, you tell yourself.

You’ve never denied yourself of thinking about Toji. He’s a beautiful man, physically, with his big, squishy pecs and tuggable hair and full lips. You just can not stay turned on for long enough when you remember how awful he is to you.

Except right now, that seems to be turning you on more. He’d saved your life, even if he is mean to you every other day. So no matter what he says, he doesn’t want you to die. Well, that much is obvious with his silly protection situation. Your neck throbs again and you think back to the night he kissed it.

You can barely remember the feeling of his lips ghosting over the skin, before he slid his soft tongue over a vein and then politely sunk his teeth into the flesh. Like a recovering addict tasting a hint of a drug just to get them by.

Your hands have stopped scrubbing your body with your loofa. Now you are hugging yourself and gliding your hands down your sides, imagining Toji’s much bigger ones in their place as he drags that tongue down your whole body, Marking you all over if that’s what he wanted.

You open your eyes and gasp. Snap the fuck out of it.

You hate Toji Fushiguro, remember?

Well, of course you do. You hate the way you don’t hate him, not even a little, not even at all.

Hours pass and you have both successfully showered. Toji emerges from his room, late that night, rubbing his eyes as you sit on the couch and watch an evening show. The lights in the living room are quite dim; plus, it’s dark outside, so the shadows on his face make him more intimidating than usual.

“So, y’smell any better now?” Toji quips, joining you on the far end of the couch, spreading his legs so violently wide that you have to cross your own so as to not touch him.

“I showered hours ago,” you groan. “If you weren’t locked up in your room you’d know that.”

“Well, I am nocturnal,” he says with a yawn. “I was up entirely too early this morning. You know, after saving-”

“My life, I get it.” You roll your eyes. “Are you ever going to let it go?”

“Not ‘till I get some proper gratitude,” he declares, tapping his chin. “Now the price has gone up, I’ll need something better than ‘thank you, big daddy.’”

You feel your eyes widen. “I would never fucking call you that. Ew.”

Toji chuckles. “A shame, really.” He leans back farther into the couch and angles his body to face you. “So, are y’ready to discuss the subject of payment?”

“Yep,” you nod. “How about I doctor your wound and agree to cover the security deposit?”

Toji’s mouth twitches before he slowly lifts up his sweatshirt, revealing that the bullethole in his chiseled ribs is now faded to a slight pink scar.

“Too late, and frankly - they’ll have to catch us first if they want that deposit,” he shrugs. “Keep tryin’, brat.”

You cross your arms. “What d’you want? An expensive dinner?”

“I see, y’tryin to call me broke,” he smiles but it’s laced with venom. “I’m going to give you one more try before I show you what I want. Then it’s fuck all of this useless chitchat.”

You blink, a little afraid. He’s not looking at you any differently than usual but your stomach still turns. Now that you know his secret, things have changed. You already knew you could never take him in a fight but - now you know for sure that he can kill you.

“Um…” you scratch your arm and glance at the floor, “I really don’t know, Toji. What the hell do you want?”

His hand bolts out at the speed of light. He grins at you and his canines have suddenly gotten dangerously sharp; his eyes also glow a bit in the slight warm light.

You gasp as he pulls you closer to him by your shirt collar.

“Always runnin’ that stupid mouth of yours,” he grits. “Unfortunately, it’s gonna be kinda hard to speak with dick in your throat.”

You blink up at him, the awful way he’s degrading you sending heat signals between your legs. You hate that he has this effect on you; God, you hate him so much.

“Ah, you think I can’t still talk shit with my lips wrapped around your little guy?” you tease, gripping his wrist with one of your hands, digging your knees into the couch for stability.

“Don’t know, wanna find out?” Toji questions, meeting his face halfway to yours. “Don’t you wanna show me how grateful you are, little brat?”

You bite your lip and raise your chin defiantly. “I don’t think sucking you off’s gonna be enough,” you purr. “But if that’s all you want…”

Toji’s glowing eyes darken back down to normal, but his teeth remain sharp and his thick arm outstretched in front of you has bulging veins that hadn’t been there before.

“Needy brat,” he cocks his head to the side. “Y’can repay me however you want, right after I get my end of the conditions.”

You nod. “Deal.”

“Now,” he snaps his fingers with his free hand and pulls your shirt until you are forced to be on all fours next to him. “On the floor, brat.”

You gulp suddenly as he lets you go and you slide onto the hardwood, knowing your poor knees are going to be exhausted by the time you are finished.

You sit on your legs and wiggle your way between Toji’s knees.

As you adjust yourself, he pulls his sweatshirt over his head, and you have to swallow the most feral growl that threatens to erupt from within you.

Like always, you gawk at him, but this time you make it as obvious as possible. Your little cunt is pulsing with desire now, as you take in the way he’s looking down at you over his lap.

His lip curls as he notices your stare, “I took that off so you can stare at the reminder of why you’re doing this.” He points to the scar on his ribs. “I don’t save human lives for nothing, brat. You better show me exactly why you’re so special, why you deserved it.”

You blink up at him, mindless. His eyes are mesmerizing you, more than usual. He’s so alluring, his skin glistens under the light. You aren’t sure why you hadn’t given into your desires before now.

You slide your palms over the tops of his thighs. He leans back on the couch and stretches his arms across the back, watching you in silence, the only noise being the tv behind you. Your hands make it slowly to the waistband on his pajama pants, before you tug it down just enough to see his v-line and the little bit of hair that resides on his groin.

“Aht - we don’t have time for all that teasing shit,” Toji grunts, but he must not think you can see the tips of his fingers dug into the couch. He likes it.

You tilt your head to the side and continue to pull the band slowly - while Toji slightly rolls his hips up to help you get it down.

“Not even wearing underwear?” you gape, realizing there is not a second band under his pajamas.

He’s still staring at you but now he’s got an arrogant smirk. “I’m a man who likes to plan ahead.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to let him annoy you when you feel so incredibly good. At last, you yank down the band, and what pops out makes your stomach recoil in fear.

His cock effortlessly jerks up and rests against his stomach, almost halfway up his abdomen, barely able to hold itself up due to it’s obvious heft. The tip is already wet, dribbling clear precum, like icing on a cinnamon roll. The length is so perfectly peach with a beautiful pink-brown head. It seems to call to you like a high class delicacy.

Toji’s laugh cracks you out of your trance.

“Y’look so cockdrunk, babygirl,” he coos, taking his hand and grabbing himself at the base and holding it up for you.

You adjust yourself, as you now cannot sit on your legs because of how long his cock is. You have to get all the way up on your knees, where you plant your hands back on his thighs and lean forward.

“It’s so…” Big. Pretty. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Toji shakes his cock in his hand, “I believe in you. Just take it slow.”

Is he being… patient? Gentle even? You don’t like this, not one bit. You want him to tell you to shut up and put it in your throat.

“Okay, put it in,” you say, parting your lips wide with the tip of your tongue sticking out - ready to slide it underneath his cock.

Toji obeys instantly, taking his free hand and pushing your head down to meet his the crown of his dick. When your mouth makes contact, it doesn’t take more than a third of his cock before your mouth feels full.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up at Toji, who’s took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Slow,” he reminds, entangling his fingers in your hair but not applying any more pressure to your head, allowing you to take the length at your own pace.

You close your eyes and dig your nails into his thighs before forcing as much of the cock down your throat as you can, pushing saliva out onto the skin and closing your lips on it.

Your tongue has extended and is now flicking dangerously on the underside of his dick, as you now feel you’re in a position to start bobbing your head.

You do so, slowly, slurping noises blocking out your tv show, spit dripping all around the veins on his cock before pooling on his groin. Toji’s head has fallen back into the couch, he’s let go of his cock now and keeps the other hand in your hair.

“Don’t fucking stop, baby,” he says.

Your pussy practically purrs upon hearing a name as soft as ‘baby.’ Sure, he had called you babygirl but it was sarcasm. As much as you enjoy being called a brat, you know you’ll need to hear that baby name more often.

You continue to slide your head up and down, jaw parted, tongue gliding under. You bring your mouth back to his tip and swirl with your tongue, lathering more saliva, watching as it foams and drips down his cock. You take your hand and, using your spit as lube, stroke the bottom half that you just can’t fit in your mouth.

“Fuck, who taught you this, ma?” Toji groans from above, thighs squeezing your sides. You swear you can even feel them shaking a bit.

“Mmh-” is all you’re able to respond, putting your poor wrist to work to make up for your tired jaw. You don’t care, you like the pain.

You bring your mouth back to the top and release him with a pop, a glittery string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock, the entire lower half of your chin coated in drool.

Toji lifts his head up to look down at you. “Knew you were special, little freak. It’s not everyday I get brain like this.” He grunts and shifts under you, as your hand is still slowly stroking his veiny length.

You giggle before you reply, “It’s kinda funny to see you squirming like this. Toji, who always says he’s not anyone’s bitch.”

“Mm, and I’m not yours, either,” he hums softly, before sitting up quickly and yanking your head back with the grip he still holds on you, forcing you to look up at him.

His eyes search your red, wet face for a moment before he leans down and opens his mouth, spitting out a fat glop of saliva onto his own cock. Before it can even start to slide down, he’s shoving your face down onto the length nearly three-thirds of the way.

You make a noise of surprise and your hands shoot out to balance yourself. You shut your eyes tight as you try to keep your teeth bared back so as to not graze him as he uses the roots in your hair to fuck your face at his own rough pace.

“Damn, who’s who’s bitch now?” he cracks, jerking his hips up to meet your throat halfway, and now the tip is hitting the back of your mouth with a painful force. “Oh wait, I guess you can’t respond, huh? What did I tell you?” He laughs above you, voice deep, “Can’t talk shit with a mouth full of cock, lil’ brat.”

You groan around him and smack his bare thigh before you dig your nails into the skin. He hisses and lets out a deep, groveling moan that sounds animalistic.

You look up through your lashes and see his form shifting; his face is literally twisting in pleasure but also, his hair seems to be growing and shrinking, his teeth go from fitting in his mouth to his canines growing long and poking out from his upper lip, his ears go from human and round, to an awful, sharp point.

You realize he’s fighting back the urge to change, you’re doing him that good. Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you keep your nails in his thigh, leaving harsh red curves all over the hairy skin.

“Just like that, baby,” he says, nearly tumbling over his words, “‘M gonna fill your pretty throat, yeah? Want you to drink me up, then I’ll be satisfied. F-fuck.”

You furrow your eyebrows and try to lock in your focus so that your body or jaw doesn’t decide to give out right as he’s going to cum. You let him continue to use your throat for the pace he thinks feels best, humming around him to amplify his pleasure.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, but you open your eyes again to see that he has dropped one of his hands on the couch. You stare in horror as his nails shoot out: sharp and pointy and black, nearly ripping the fabric on the seat. He claws at the material right as you feel his cock twitching, veins pulsing harder.

His load comes quick, and harsh. He pulls himself out of your mouth just enough that you can feel the hot, salty spurts crash against your throat, filling your mouth to the point you have to yank his cock out in order to breathe.

You gasp and swallow on instinct, and Toji watches with glistening eyes.

His teeth, hands and ears have returned to normal. You start to feel your head throb with lightheadedness and wonder if you’d been imagining all of it.

“My, my, what a fantastic throat you have, my dear,” he coos, chest rising and falling as he, too, tries to regain his breath.

“All the better to suck you with, sir.” You grin and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before rising to stand, stretching your legs and relieving your poor knees.

Toji stares up at you now, face angled down, eyes watching you through his lashes. “So, brat, do you feel satisfied with your payment?” he questions, tone a little lilted.

You tap your chin, pretending you don’t notice him sitting up and putting his hands on your waist, before parting your legs with his knee and sliding you over his thigh. You pretend you don’t feel your cunt throb whorishly in response to his touch.

“No,” you say curtly. “I mean, a man saves my life and all he gets is some head?”

“Y’read my mind, puss,” he grovels, hand coming down in a harsh crack on your hip. “I think, just for extra credit, you can slide me a lil’ something extra.”

You gasp in surprise when you feel his heavy palm hit your skin, then bite your lip as the sensation overcomes your entire lower half.

“What’s that?” you question.

He answers by snapping his fingers. You feel cold air hit your bottom and, looking down in horror you realize, oh no! your shorts and panties are missing.

“I-I thought you said you didn’t have magical techniques,” you shriek, shyly moving your hand to cover your bare cunt, as it begins to immediately drip down your legs without a protective barrier.

“Well, there could be two explanations,” he says apathetically, ripping your hand away from your groin and staring at you with an expression that dares you to put it back. “Either my technique only applies to you, because I Marked you. Or, I was lying about the number of explanations.”

He grins devilishly, and you realize you deeply miss the way his sharp teeth look poking out of his mouth. You try to shake the thought, but each time you look at him, you expect to see them.

You swallow thickly, “So what? You can control me, too?”

Toji’s mouth twitches but he does not deny it. “Why? Do you not want to do this?”

You realize, you kind of implied that Toji might have coerced you into doing this - but that isn’t what you meant.

“No, I do, I do,” you answer, a little too eagerly, and Toji’s face curls.

“Sooo neeeeedy,” he drags out, before plopping your bare cunt down on his thigh, making you shriek. “Well, I think what I want now is your pretty cream all over my thigh, ma, then after that, your pretty cream on my cock.” He digs his fingers into your hips as you have been rendered speechless, and drags you forward on his thigh, soft skin rubbing your aching little clit.

A small, ‘oh’ escapes your lips and your hands fly up to his hefty shoulders, gripping onto them.

“Yeah, just hold onto me, baby,” he grunts, sliding you back towards his knee and then up again.

“N-No,” you say, lip quivering.

Toji cocks his head to the side, nearly perking his ears.

“C-Call me those m-mean things,” you stutter, feeling the blood rush to your face as each word comes out.

“Oh, you don’t like when I call you baby?” Toji taunts. “You like being called a needy bitch, hm?”

You whine in response to him, instead of saying it out loud, but that’s not enough for him.

“What did I say?” he grits, smacking your thigh harshly after he stops grinding your hips onto his own.

“Y-Yes,” you yelp, “yes, I like it, Toji.” There’s something else you like, too. “H-Hit me, again.”

“Oh?” he hums tentatively, rubbing your poor cunt to shreds on his thigh again, all the while smacking one of yours - a red welp forming slowly. “Little slut of mine likes being bullied.”

He cracks a laugh, “Bet you were drippin’ in y’panties every time I yelled at you. Sick, y’know that?”

“Shut up,” you growl, yanking on his hair.

His eyelids flutter in pleasure, “Make me, brat.”

You know that you can’t, you absolutely have no power over this man who is double your size. Besides, you need him to keep talking, running that big fucking mouth, so you can cum all over him.

“That’s what I thought,” he purrs, smiling at you, before cracking a hard smack across your thigh again. Then, he shoves his fingers around your throat, gripping mercilessly as he pulls your breath from you. “Gonna cum already?”

You amateurly nod your head against his grip, which comes to be a mistake, as Toji uses the force of his other hand to keep your hips from moving any longer on his thigh.

You try to gasp but he grips your windpipe harder and drags you towards his face, torso pressed delicately against his larger one.

“Mm, nah, not on my watch,” he grits, pressing his thick lips against yours.

You’re so easily, pathetically distracted yet still, you whine as your orgasm is being denied, and Toji makes it even harder to ignore as his lips and tongue slide over yours.

You can feel the sharp points of his teeth growing, then he uses them to bite down on your bottom lip, forcing you to keep your face on his as he drops his hand from your throat.

Now, with both hands back on your hips, he starts pushing them over his leg once more.

You groan a thank you into his mouth as your throbbing clit gets fucked, leaving a slimey trail all over Toji. You use your feet planted on the ground to swirl your hips in a way that feels good, and now your stomach is tightening.

You huff and whimper into Toji’s mouth and at the very moment you think you’re about to reach your peak, Toji lifts your hips off of him and releases his teeth from your mouth.

“T-Toji!” you groan in frustration. “Why?”

“Y’didn’t think I’d give it to you that easily, huh, puss?” He flashes his teeth at you and you notice his hair has grown long again, eyes ablaze. He’s doing the shit where he only partially shifts again, but you are quite frankly more into it than you will ever say aloud.

“Yes, I did,” you say. “After my spectacular performance on my knees.”

“Yeah? Well, that was just to repay me for your life,” Toji says, examining his nails. “Now, I’m punishing you. If not for that temper of yours, she never would’ve shot at you, y’know. So I have to teach you a lil’ lesson, about runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth.”

You grunt at him and bang your fists on his chest, though he is not moved.

“Please, please, I’m sorry,” you whine. “Just let me cum.”

Toji pretends to think about it, “No.”

Then, he’s shoving your hips again, and again when you get just a little too loud - he stops. Then, you try not to make noise at all, but he can feel your needy cunt twitching on him, and he stops again. This repeats about three more times before he finally, finally keeps going as you get louder.

“If I’m gonna let you cum y’better give me a big one, lil’ brat.” His voice is deeper, as he stares at you with those animalistic eyes. “Y’gonna do that for me, needy bitch?”

Your head falls hopelessly against his shoulder as you wail into his ear, and before long your entirely body is convulsing on top of his. Your twitching pussy pushes out an orgasm so violent that you leave a sticky stream all over Toji’s thigh, heart threatening to erupt out of your chest, and the only thing left to do is hang on for dear life as Toji continues forcing your hips over his leg through your high.

You think he’s just helping you ride it out, ‘till you realize he isn’t stopping, but your poor cunt is already running sore.

“N-No,” you whine, tilting your head and digging your teeth into the side of his neck.

“Nah, y’wanted to cum soooo bad,” Toji shakes his head but you don’t notice his eyebrows knitting together, or his cock perking back up at the feeling of your teeth on him.

You huff and smack him plain across his face. An action you had not expected to do, one that almost felt invol-

“Toji,” you gasp. “Did you make me do that?”

Toji doesn’t respond. Instead, your arm involuntarily comes up and hits him again, and his cock jerks against your leg.

“Heh - and you called me a sick fuck,” you grit, sitting up, as Toji has finally slowed his movements of fucking your cunt on his leg.

“Takes one to know one,” Toji chuckles, dropping his hands from your hips.

Your next action is very, overwhelmingly voluntary. You pick your feet off of the floor and slide them down on either side of Toji’s. His legs are simply so big, that your ass and thighs are forced to sit on top of them. You’ll have to use your feet for balance instead of your knees.

Toji watches you in silence and you grip his cock at the base.

“You know I hate you, right?” you say suddenly, lifting your hips so that your cunt hovers over his tip.

“Show me just how much,” he hisses, arms moving behind his head.

“Hmph,” you mutter, before pushing his wet cock tip through your quenching hole.

Toji spasms, his entire torso nearly breaking away from the couch as his lips part in desperation.

It hurts so good, but you can take it. You slowly bend your legs to lower yourself on him, now your knees are angled in the air due to your awkward difference in size.

“Yeah, I hate you so fucking much,” he murmurs, and there’s no mistaking the feral, intimidating level of depth his voice has dropped to. “You don’t deserve to have such good pussy, brat.”

You roll your hips a bit forward, knowing you’ve managed to pull ahold of the control as your cushy walls engulf Toji’s throbbing dick.

“Don’t get attached, Toji,” you rile, lifting your palm before cracking it across his face.

He makes out a noise that is not quite a moan, but not quite a full on howl. “As if,” he mouths sassily, shaking his hips underneath you so that you slide the rest of the way down.

Now that you’ve gotten him all the way in, Toji’s prepared to take back control of your little hole.

“Took me so good,” he growls. “That was the easy part, let’s see if you can handle the rest.”

Your eyes barely have a chance to widen before Toji is driving you up and down, slowly but steadily, with his monstrous hands. You quench around him like an iron fist, and it shows in the way his stomach sucks in and writhes with pleasure. You use your knees to swirl, gushing more of your cunt’s lubrication all over his length.

He fills you up so nicely, and you wonder if his size is related to his… condition. You don’t really want to think about his wolf form, but you still feel yourself drooling at the thought of his claws popping out when he came in your mouth.

Sweat glistens on his chest, rolling down between his nipples. On his groin, there is a combined pool of cream and precum at the base of his cock, which sticks to your ass and splurges out a delicious sticky noise each time your cheeks clap against his heavy balls.

“Hit me again, Toji,” you mutter, and where his eyes had slowly been falling closed, they are wide again - glossed over in lust.

His hand whips up your shirt this time, and instead of hitting your hips or your ass, a fat palm cracks your breast and nipple in one blow. Then he cracks one on the top of your thigh.

Then, he lifts his hand towards your face with a pause, and you nod your permission.

Instead of smacking your cheek, though, he shoves his palm against your jaw and harshly presses his thumb to your lips. Cockdrunkenly, you part them and his thumb slides inside, immediately becoming encased by your needy tongue.

You swirl the finger and lather it in your spit, eyebrows furrowing at how good it feels to release your oral fixation on his hand.

All the while you still clap on him, knees growing weaker as they have slid down to the side. Toji watches you intensely, waiting for the buildup of his orgasm, ready to fill your cervix with his semen.

Your breasts, now free and exposed bounce in his face, cold air erecting your nipples combined with the stinging memory of his smack. It’s all too much for you to bear.

“K-Keep going, baby,” Toji requests softly, his mean side disappearing again. You don’t care, this may be the last time he’s ever nice to you. “Drag my cum out like a good lil’ slut.”

Your eyes are closed, your ears ringing. You hardly hear his request but you don’t stop what you’re doing.

Something sharp jabs your tongue. Your eyes pop open and, you see Toji, growling, ears sharp, hair overgrown nearly to his shoulders. You glance at his other hand and realize his claws are coming out again.

You pull his thumb out of your mouth and hasten your pace, quenching your muscles around him purposefully. He lets out a guttural howl and then, it isn’t long till heat pumps into your gummy tunnel.

You shake as your own second orgasm slips through your fingers, and a combination of your juices poor out of your stretched hole and right down onto Toji’s balls.

His teeth grow a little longer than they have the whole time, hair is strarting to replace the skin on his face. You shudder in fear and rip yourself off of his cock, where it falls limp on his sticky lap.

“Don’t worry,” Toji says through his quivers, “I-I can stop the change, jus’…” He lets out a painful grunt and then all of his skin returns to its normal hue, and his body retracts down to strictly human features.

You take a deep breath, and plop back down on top of him, this time resting your head on his shoulder as his cum drips out of you and onto your thighs and the couch.

The two of you breathe in silence for a moment, before Toji’s big arm wraps around you and he slides the two of you down on the couch - so that you are laying side by side, bare tummies and legs touching, every spot where the skin connects setting you on fire.

“I don’t really practice religion, but if I must say so myself, your pussy is a gift from God.” Toji’s words come out playfully and you find yourself laughing uncontrollably.

“Please shut the actual fuck up,” you say.

“Not kidding, brat,” Toji’s finger slides down your arm featherlight, an action so tender you find yourself trying not to think too much of it. “Seeing as I always know where you are, I may have to actually follow you around now. Make sure you’re not givin’ that shit to anyone else.”

You huff, “So what if I do? You hate me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Toji nods. “Neither of us believe that bullshit, puss. I Marked you because I want you to be mine. And you are, so don’t try no shit.”

You roll your eyes at him, intertwining your legs together. “You’re the dog, so technically, aren’t I the one who owns you?”

Toji growls and grabs your throat, “Don’t ever call me that shit again, brat. Maybe you need another round to get it through your annoying little skull.”

“My, my, what a big fucking mouth you have,” you taunt, tugging on his hair.

“All the better to eat you with, my dear,” he murmurs, and pulls your face towards his.

A/N:

I SAY AWOOOOOOOO BABYYYY 🐺 (toji ily u my everything)

this was intense mama i gotta go take a cold shower now ^.^

~pennjammin

[luveline]

Would you write for Spencer with shy!reader? I feel like they'd be so cute together, neither of them would feel confident enough to make the first move until the team pushes them together probably

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

"Hi," Spencer says in a whisper. 

You look up, extremely relieved to see him, even if your tongue ties into tight knots whenever he's around. "Hi, Spencer. Is it only you?" 

Spencer takes the empty seat beside you. Your entire row at the back of the theatre is a line of unbroken, crimson velveteen, not a friend in sight.

"Yeah, I'm…" His lips quirk into a confused pout. "Not really sure where Garcia is. I was supposed to meet her on the way." 

"I was supposed to give Emily a ride, but she said Derek's bringing her instead." You rub your lips together, worried for your friends and feeling sorry for yourself; being alone with Spencer is agony, you like him that much. Sheepish, you hold out your popcorn bucket. "Popcorn?" 

It's huge to account for Emily and her light fingers. Spencer laughs under his breath, hurrying out of his jacket to take a handful. "Think you'll have enough?" he teases. 

You tuck your arms in tight from the rests so as not to touch him. His phone pings, drawing his bright eyed smile down to his lap. He clicks through the page and then leans over to show you what he's been sent. 

Hey garcia, I'm outside your apartment. :) 7:32PM

Spencer!! Going to be late!! Go without me, I'll catch up! <3 :) 7:33PM

I'm heading into the movies now, unless you want me to wait? 7:46PM

No, Y/N's in there go find her and save our seats!! 7:46PM

Then, another from Garcia. 

Change of plans Spencer, I can't come anymore Kevin threw out his back!! Give Y/N a hug for me :D. 8:09PM

You'll miss Penelope, but surely Derek and Emily are on their way. You frown at Spencer, as if to say, That sucks. The lights go down and the trailers start rolling, and things aren't as awkward as you imagined. Spencer whispers half facts and half jokes with his face inclined to yours, his breath warm where it kisses your ear. You giggle at him and, with startled pleasure, realise that anyone looking might think you were on a date. It's shameful how much you like that hypothetical. 

Your phone dings in your pocket. 

hey babe, me n Derek got waylaid by two hot blondes. be there as soon as we can ♡ 7:56PM

You're not nearly as scared to receive it as you thought. "Spence," you whisper, showing him your phone. 

He snorts. "Typical. Well, we'll be alright without them, yeah? I'll go get us some drinks and stuff before the movie starts." You dig for your purse, Spencer waves his hand. "I got it." 

He gets your favourite. You don't even have to tell him what you want. Your hands touch as he passes you your drink. You're about to say thanks, but the screen turns black before the movie title and age rating fills the screen. 

It only takes Spencer a solid forty minutes to work up the courage to take your hand. Eyes pinned to the screen, you let your fingers relax under his, his palm to the back of your hand and his fingers twining between yours. 

He leans over, and you think for sure he has a fact to tell you, some tidbit about the movie or how it was made. "Is this okay?" he whispers. You can hardly hear him. 

You turn your face, meeting his eyes in the dark. "Yeah. It's okay." 

He smiles (dreamily, so dreamily) and turns back to the movie. You do the same, the two of you wearing twin grins, his hand a steadying warmth. His thumb rubs the side of your pinky finger softly. 

From a row much further down, Emily hisses. "It's my turn with the binoculars." 

"They're holding hands!" Penelope croons. 

Derek looks up from the mouthful of nachos he'd been enjoying. "What? Let me see?" he says, snatching the binoculars from Penelope's hand.

"Twenty dollars says they kiss by the end of the night." 

"As if." 

"It's my turn!" 

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Great news about taking requests for Harry 😁.

Since watching Mobland, I've had this recurring dream that reader is another Harrigan daughter but like Kevin is pretty switched on to everything, like Maeves games, the twat that is Eddie etc. Since everything in the last couple of episodes is landing Harry with alot to deal with, maybe reader can help him out, maybe dealing with Kat for him and then helping him to relax in whichever scenario you see fit 😉.

Sorry if it's shit.

“Close your eyes”

Harry Da Souza x f!Reader

Harry’s Masterlist

Summary: You help Harry relax after a long week spent cleaning up your family’s mess.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, reader is a Harringan, unaddressed infidelity?

Harry hadn’t slept in days. Not properly. Not since he had to move his family to the Harrigan residence. Not since things with Jan had gotten worse. Not since Eddie started sniffing around, shagging his daughter like the rabid mutt he was. Not since Kat appeared in his life again with the uncertainty that meant.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that presses on the ribs, seeps into the lungs— the kind that smells like something rotting beneath the floorboards.

“Kat’s gone,” came a voice behind him— sharp, female, knowing.

He turned, glass in hand, jaw tight. “You got involved?”

You leaned against the doorframe, Harrigan-born and thoroughly unbothered. You didn’t bother with pretense— not around him. “She needed a shove. I gave her one. Not off a roof or anything,” you smirked, “but let’s say she won’t be crawling around this family for a while.”

Your posture was lazy, almost amused— but there was steel beneath your voice. The kind of cold cruelty only learned from survival. From bloodline. From watching the people you loved rot from the inside out.

Your voice dripped with dry amusement, but your eyes were steady, watching him like a hunter watches wounded prey— not for the kill, but for the truth of it.

He just stared at you, one brow raised, lips twitching like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you or kill you.

Probably both.

You’ve always been Harry’s favorite Harrigan.

He’d never say it out loud. Not to Kevin, not to Jan, not even to himself most of the time. He let everyone believe it was Kevin— old mate, the one he’d known for years. But deep down, there was never any competition.

Not when it came to you.

There was something about you that pulled at him — slow and steady at first, like a riptide dragging him off balance. You never begged for attention the way others did. Never threw your loyalty around like a bargaining chip. You looked him in the eye, and when you spoke, it was with a kind of deliberate softness that made him listen whether he wanted to or not.

And the way you looked at him…

Fuck, that look. It wasn’t innocent. It never was. It said things you’d never dare speak aloud in a room full of family and blood ties. It told him you saw through him— past the loyalty, the violence, the gritted teeth he wore around the rest of the clan— and you liked what you saw.

“What’d you do to get Kat to back off?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled softly. The sound didn’t match the fire behind it. There was weight beneath the laughter— a recklessness bred by bloodlines and boredom, sharpened like a knife.

“It’s not a good moment to start playing games. You wanna end up like your brother?” he said, referring to the tragic destiny of Brendan.

“Ouch. Low blow.” You teased. But it hit. And he knew it. You let the moment hang in the air— dared him to say Brendan’s name again, dared him to use that wound like a weapon.

“I don’t need a fixer,” he muttered, but his voice lacked heat.

“No,” you said, standing in front of him. “But you’ve got too much on your plate. And no one to back you up.”

You watched it hit him. The truth. His armor didn’t break —not fully— but it shifted. A breath caught. A crack formed.

Something flickered across his face— raw, exposed. A man used to silence and command, suddenly caught in the act of feeling.

“You think I don’t see it?” you continued, stepping closer. “You’re holding this whole damn house of cards together and everyone around you is either dead weight or twisting the knife.”

Each word was a matchstick dragged down his spine, lighting up the hollow ache he never admitted. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

He was silent. Breathing slow. Hands still.

You took the glass from him —whiskey— and set it down.

The clink of it against wood echoed loud in the hush. A funeral bell for all the ways he’d tried to stay cold.

“My family… bunch of twats. My mum’s off her rocker, my dad’s a coward who lets her pull his strings, and Christ— we should’ve let Richie put a bullet in Eddie’s skull when we had the chance. Now look where we are. All ’cause of him.”

He swallowed. “You’re a Harrigan. What’s your problem then?”

“I’m not like the rest. You know that.”

“You’re Kevin with sharper nails and less patience.”

“You do everything for them, Harry. Everything. And what do you get? Nothin’. Not a soul lifts a finger for you.”

And then —soft, quiet— “Let me. I’m not afraid of cleaning up your messes— or of touching you when you’re covered in blood.”

Your voice dropped, slow and low, a promise and a threat and a vow.

His jaw flexed.

Something in his throat moved like he was swallowing glass. He looked at you like you’d just offered him air, and he wasn’t sure he deserved to breathe it.

“I’ve seen you at your worst,” you added. “And I still want to see you naked.”

That broke something in him— a bitter laugh, short and breathless.

His shoulders shook with it, like it hurt. Like you’d stabbed through something rotted just to prove it still bled.

“You’re trouble,” he said.

“I’m already here, love.”

You stepped into his space. He didn’t move.

He couldn’t. It was like gravity had changed direction and now you were the center of it all.

“I don’t want comfort,” he said.

You cupped his jaw. “Good. I’m not here to tuck you in.”

You kissed him hard— and he grabbed you like he’d been dying for something solid, something real. His hands gripped your waist, hauled you close, and his mouth was all heat and anger and something dangerously close to desperation.

The kind of kiss that tastes like violence and salvation. The kind that says I’m falling apart, and you’re the only one who knows how to catch me or burn me down trying.

He kissed like a man trying to shut the world up. Like if he pressed hard enough, he’d forget the weight of it. His tongue tasted like whiskey and grief. Your teeth clashed. He didn’t care. Neither did you.

“I’m here to make you feel good.” You whispered it against his mouth, against the blood still rushing to the surface of his skin, against the part of him that never asked for anything— not out loud.

He pulled you closer, almost rough, dragging your body flush against his.

“What’d you do with Kat?” His voice cracked the air between you, rough and unwilling to let go. His lips brushed yours even as he spoke, like he couldn’t decide whether to fuck you or fight you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, lashes wet, breath ragged.

“You seriously wanna talk about this right now?” you said, voice low, amused, deflecting. “I’m allowed my secrets.”

“Not with me, you ain’t.”

“Especially with you.” There was a spark in your tone, sharp and stubborn. It wasn’t just defiance. It was intimacy, in its most brutal form— the truth he didn’t want but needed.

“She’s not someone to mess about with.”

“I know.”

“Then what’d you do?”

“Gave her something she wanted. She’ll be off your case. You don’t have to deal with her breathing down your neck anymore.”

“Why?” His jaw clenched when he asked. The word came out choked, suspicious, as if he couldn’t trust kindness even when it stared him in the face.

“Why I did that?” you echoed, letting your hand slide up his chest, feeling the stutter in his breath as your fingers curled against the base of his throat. “Cause it was unfair. You shouldn’t be stuck dealing with her. Not just to save Brendan. Or Seraphina.”

His brows furrowed. His hands paused on your hips.

“I didn’t do it just for them.” His voice was quieter now, and it felt like something raw split open in his chest. “I did it for your entire family.”

“They don’t deserve it either.”

He grabbed for you like he was drowning. His hands weren’t steady— they trembled with restraint, fingers digging into your waist, pulling you against him so tight your ribs ached. His forehead pressed to yours for a breath, then his mouth was back on yours, hungry again.

“You gonna let me?” you whispered, mouth brushing the rough line of his jaw, your breath a heat that teased over his stubble.

“Let you what?” he asked, though his voice was already dark with the answer.

“Feel good,” you kissed him again, harder this time. “Let me shut the world up for you, now.”

He gasped into your mouth— not in surprise, but in satisfaction. Because this, finally, was the version of Harry you wanted: unguarded, feral, breaking.

And there was a pause— not of hesitation, but surrender. Not to you, but to himself. To the part of him that needed. That ached. That couldn’t take another fucking second of pretending.

“Yes,” he said, low, like a confession.

You stepped back from him just enough to slide your fingers down the front of his shirt, toying with a button like it was nothing at all. But your eyes told him different— low-lidded, soft with promise, dark with something quieter than lust but far more dangerous.

“Come to my room.”

You said it plainly. No performance. No teasing. Just a gentle command dressed up like an invitation.

He didn’t say anything. He just followed.

Your bedroom was quiet, the door clicking shut behind you like the seal on a secret. The curtains were drawn, soft amber light spilling in from the bedside lamp. It felt removed from the rest of the house— like the outside world had been left behind in the hallway.

Harry stood just inside the door, tense and still, his fists flexing at his sides.

You reached for him, brushing your fingers across the inside of his wrist. “You don’t have to think here, not with me, Harry.”

That made something inside him flicker. Like a switch. Like a light in a tunnel.

You walked him backward slowly, step by step, until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. Then you gave him a tiny nudge, and he sat down, shoulders stiff, uncertain.

“Lie back.”

His gaze searched yours, almost wary— but then he did. He stretched out across your sheets like he didn’t know how to be still, his body taut, hands clenched.

You crawled up beside him, one leg draped across his hips, hands framing his face.

“Close your eyes.”

He didn’t.

“Oh come on, H, don’t you trust me now?”

“I just don’t know why—”

“Close them, Harry.”

This time, he did.

And when you kissed him next —soft, slow, no teeth, no tongue— it felt like something realigned between you. Like the air itself sighed.

Your hands moved carefully, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. You pressed your lips to his chest each time you revealed more skin, tasting the salt of his neck, the heat above his heart.

And all the while, he didn’t speak. Didn’t open his eyes. Just breathed. Just let you.

When your fingers reached the waistband of his trousers, he tensed again.

“It’s alright,” you whispered. “Let me make you feel good. That’s all I want tonight. You won’t have to do a thing, I’ll do all the work.”

You weren’t in a rush. You weren’t trying to claim him.

You just wanted to show him what it felt like to be safe. To be seen. To be wanted— not for what he could give, not for what he had done— but just for him.

Harry was quiet beneath you, breath low and shallow, his lashes dark against his cheeks. You could see the tension in him— the way his jaw clenched even in stillness, the way his fingers curled into your sheets like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

You kissed him again, slower now, your mouth dragging over his, warm and lingering, like you had all the time in the world. Like you weren’t in any rush to devour him— but you would. You would, and he’d thank you for it.

Your hands moved down, over the smooth skin of his chest, the soft trail of hair that disappeared below his waistband. You didn’t fumble— you took your time. You wanted him to feel it— every drag of your fingers, every brush of your lips, every flicker of your breath.

And when you finally undid his pants and pushed them down —when you freed his cock from his boxers, thick, flushed, and already leaking for you— you heard the sharp hitch in his throat.

“You’re already so hard for me,” you murmured, wrapping your fingers around the base, slowly stroking him. “You just needed to lie back and let someone take care of you for once, yeah?”

His head dropped back onto the pillows, mouth open, his hips twitching under your touch. “Fuckin’ hell…”

You gave him one long, slow pump from base to tip, thumb swiping over the weeping slit. “I could watch you like this for hours. You really needed this, Harry.”

You leaned down and kissed the head of his cock — soft, barely a whisper. Then again, but wetter this time, with your tongue. You licked a lazy stripe from the base all the way to the tip, tasting the salt of him, the heat. He made a guttural sound — low, ragged — and you smiled against his skin.

“Fuck— Jesus—” he hissed, one hand gripping your hair now, like he didn’t know whether to push you down or pull you away.

You didn’t give him the choice.

You took him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, lips stretched wide around him, tongue working him just the way you knew he liked. You’d learned every sound he made, every little tell— how his stomach flexed when you sucked just under the head, how his hips bucked when you moaned around him.

He was losing his mind already. His hand tightened in your hair as his breath caught, legs tense beneath you.

“Christ— you— you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, love—”

You came up just long enough to meet his eyes. “I’m not even halfway done with you, Harry.”

Then you dropped your head again, sucking him deeper, your throat relaxing as you took him as far as you could, until he was right at the back, and staying there. You breathed through your nose, swallowed around him, and felt him shudder so hard it made the bed creak.

His other hand gripped the sheets like he was drowning. He wasn’t used to this— not being in control, being touched like this was worship, like it was devotion.

You popped off him with a loud, wet sound, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip.

“Gonna cum down my throat, or do you want to fuck me first?” you asked sweetly, stroking him slowly, wickedly.

Harry looked wrecked. Eyes glassy, lips parted, his cock twitching in your hand. He blinked like it took effort. “Wanna be inside you. Need to feel it.”

You climbed up his body like a slow, deliberate sin. Straddling his waist, guiding the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, teasing your own clit with it as you rocked your hips in lazy circles.

“You feel that?” you whispered, just above his mouth. “That’s how wet you’ve made me, Harry.”

“Please try and keep it down, I don’t want Gin—” he started, his voice low and tense, worry flickering across his face. He was nervous—worried that Gina or Jan might overhear, or worse, start to suspect something. But truth be told, he was far too gone, too desperate and horny to care much about the risk.

“H, you’re askin’ me to be quiet?” you scoffed, voice roughening with lust and amusement. “You’re the one who’s gonna be screamin’ any minute now, ain’t ya?” You said, emphasizing your words with a hard grind that sent a delicious jolt straight through him.

He let out a broken sound, his hands gripping your hips tight, eyes locked on where your bodies met.

You rolled your hips slow, grinding down against the thick weight of his cock. Not enough to satisfy, just enough to make him ache. His hands tightened, fingers digging into your skin as you rocked forward, your soaked cunt pressing hard against him. Then you brought your hands up to pull your shirt off, cupping your tits, pushing them together, letting him watch you play with yourself while you rode that maddening edge.

“Look at you,” you breathed, voice syrupy. “All big and hard under me, barely keeping it together.”

He looked like he could barely breathe, eyes locked on your chest, on the way your nipples hardened against your fingertips. “You’re gonna— You’re too much.”

“Good,” you whispered, rolling your hips again, slow and deeper this time, dragging your pussy over the thick ridge of him. “Maybe I’ll ride you nice and slow, make you beg for it.”

His hips jerked up involuntarily, cock straining hard beneath you. “Don’t tease me, love. I’ll flip you over and fuck you until you forget your own name.”

You leaned in, letting your breasts brush over his chest, lips hovering just over his. “Cute how you think you’re still in control,” you whispered.

He let out a low, broken sound when you squeezed your tits again, angling them toward him. “Go on then,” you murmured, breath hot against his jaw. “You want ‘em in your mouth or all over your cock?”

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and glassy. “Both.”

You smirked, and then you sank down onto him— slow, agonizingly slow— inch by inch until he was buried fully inside you, until you were seated fully on his cock, both of you trembling from the stretch, the heat, the way he filled you so deep it almost hurt.

His head dropped back again, a moan escaping his lips— low, filthy, desperate.

“Fuckin’ hell—that cunt— Jesus Christ—”

You stayed there a moment, just sitting on him, your cunt clenched tight around his cock, letting him feel every flutter, every squeeze.

Then you started to move. Slow and deep, rolling your hips, grinding down, making him feel every slick inch as you fucked yourself on him like you had all the power in the world.

You rode him slow, deliberately grinding your hips down, making sure every drag of his cock hit that perfect swollen spot deep inside you.

His hands gripped your thighs like he couldn’t bear it— not the slick, choking heat of your cunt wrapped around him, not the lazy, sensual pace that was making him twitch inside you already.

“You like how that feels?” you whispered, leaning close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Feel how tight I am? That’s what you needed, isn’t it? Just needed to be deep inside me, needed to be touched, fucked—ruined.”

Harry groaned —loud, filthy— as his hips bucked up involuntarily, but you shoved him back down.

“No. You don’t get to fuck up into me. I said relax, remember?”

You were dripping down his cock, slick smearing along his thighs, soaking the sheets underneath you. Every roll of your hips made a wet, obscene sound that only made your cunt pulse tighter around him. You dragged your nails up his chest, leaned back, and started moving faster— harder.

You ground down on Harry’s cock harder, slow and deliberate, lips parted as you bit your bottom one, letting out a low, breathy moan that rattled his chest beneath you. His hands dug into your hips like he was trying to claim you whole, pressing you tighter against him, as if he was desperate to keep from losing control.

His hands —fuck, his hands— they came up like he couldn’t help himself, grabbing your tits with both palms, rough and greedy, thumbs grazing your nipples just enough to make you gasp.

“God—fuck, look at you,” he growled, kneading the flesh in his hands like he wanted to own it, like your body was something he’d earned and couldn’t get enough of. “These tits—swear I dream about ‘em.”

You let out a breathy laugh, grinding down harder, rolling your hips in a way that made his eyes flutter. “Yeah? What do you do in those dreams, Harry?”

He groaned, fingers pinching your nipples, making your back arch with a whimper. “Same thing I’m doin’ now,” he muttered, dragging your tits toward his mouth like he needed them there— sucking one in, then the other, wet, sloppy, hungry.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, voice thick with need, “you grip me like you wanna swallow me whole. You want me to fuck you harder, don’t you?”

You nodded, not even trying to hide the want in your eyes. “Gods, yes. I want you so fucking deep.”

“Fuckin’ hell— that cunt—” he grit through his teeth, his voice low and wrecked. “Fuckin’ tight—squeezin’ like you wanna milk me dry.”

You smirked, grinding down harder. “Maybe I do. Maybe I want you to come so hard it fucking hurts. Want you leaking out of me for days.”

His hands slid to your ass, squeezing, guiding your pace even though you were still the one in control. His head was thrown back, eyes glazed, flushed all the way down his throat.

“Wanna be your good little stress relief, yeah?” you taunted, your voice dripping sugar and filth. “Ride the fight out of you… Fuck the bastard out of you till you’re all soft and pliant under me”

“Shit—fuck—d’you hear yourself? You’re fuckin’ mental,” he groaned, “and you’re makin�� me cum if you keep sayin’ shit like that.”

You leaned down, biting his collarbone just hard enough to leave a mark, tongue flicking over the bite to soothe the sting. “I’m yours, Harry. Take me. Fuck me like you mean it.”

He wasted no time. His hips thrust up sharply, filling you with a brutal, hard stroke that made your head fall back, mouth open wide in a silent scream. You clutched his shoulders, nails digging into skin as the delicious burn of overstimulation spread through you.

“Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he cursed, eyes dark and wild. “You make me crazy, you know that? So fuckin’ wet and needy.”

You ground your clit hard against his pelvis, moaning low and guttural. “Gonna make you lose your mind, Harry. Gonna take all your fucking control away.”

He growled, biting into your neck, teeth grazing skin just enough to sting. “That’s it, babe. Ride me like I’m the only fuckin’ thing that matters.”

You did. Rolling your hips, fucking yourself on him, every motion stretching you, pushing you closer to the edge. You felt him twitch inside you, heard the ragged breaths and broken curses.

Suddenly— a loud, sharp knock on the door cut through the haze.

“Shut the fuck up in there!” came Eddie’s annoyed voice from the other side. “Nobody want to hear you shaggin’ some tosser.”

You froze for half a second— then clapped your hand over your mouth, shaking with silent laughter as Harry stared at you, wide-eyed, his cock still buried balls-deep inside you.

You chuckled darkly, eyes sparkling as you yelled to Eddie: “Fuck off! You jealous cunt!”

You kissed Harry hard, slipping your hands down to grab his cock again, stroking him slowly as he started moving inside you once more.

“Relax, Harry,” you murmured, voice thick with promise, “He doesn’t know it’s you in here.”

Your words seemed to push him over the edge— he groaned loud, fucking up into you harder, hips snapping against yours like a man possessed.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close, lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “Cum for me, Harry. Let me feel every drop. Let me own you.”

You clenched around him hard, lips parted in a silent cry, and he noticed— grinned up at you, cocky and filthy, dragging his thumb down to circle your clit while still fucking up into you.

“Keep goin’,” he whispered, voice gone low and filthy. “Want you to cum on my cock while I’ve got your tits in my mouth.”

And you did— grinding harder, whimpering when his mouth latched onto you again, when his hand grabbed your ass to slam you down harder, until the heat at the base of your spine snapped, and you were clenching around him, head thrown back, moaning his name like a prayer.

He followed fast— hands gripping tight, breath punched from his chest as he spilled inside you with a deep, broken groan, still mouthing at your tits like he never wanted to stop.

You stayed with him, riding out the waves of his release, every pulse inside you marking you as his.

Harry’s chest heaved beneath you, his skin flushed and glistening, a drop of sweat trickling down the side of his throat where you’d marked him with your mouth. You hadn’t moved off him yet, still full of him, his cum slowly seeping out around his softening cock.

He didn’t speak. Neither did you, not right away. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was full. Weighty. Like it had to be honored.

Your fingers found his hand, where it lay half-curled against your thigh. You laced your fingers through his and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“You can come to me whenever you need, you know.” Your voice was low, a bit hoarse from all the moaning and gasping—but steady. Firm. “If you’re stressed. Pissed off. Want to pretend the world doesn’t exist for an hour. Just call me.”

His eyes flicked up to yours—hazed, heavy, a bit unreadable but not cold. Never with you.

“Is that right?” he murmured, his voice rough like gravel and honey. “You gonna be my little stress reliever now?”

You smiled, slow and wicked. “Thought I already established that.” You shifted slightly—just enough to make his cock twitch inside you again, oversensitive and still not fully withdrawn. “Not like I didn’t just help you take the edge off.”

He groaned, more exasperated than pained, and let his head fall back into the pillow. “Fuckin’ hell… You’re dangerous.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, tracing a finger down the middle of his chest, “but I’m good for you. Admit it.”

He glanced at you again, quieter this time. “You’re somethin’. Don’t know if it’s good yet. But yeah. Maybe.”

You leaned down, kissed the corner of his mouth—not needy, not sweet. Just a mark. Yours.

Then you whispered against his lips, “Whenever you need it —need me— I’m yours. You don’t even have to ask.”

His hand gripped your thigh harder. And he didn’t say thank you. He didn’t have to.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I hope it lived up to your expectations🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[kvllcrvsh]

Protection Charm

Ian Mckinkey/Fem!Reader word count: 4.6k master list

Summary: You and Ian had been dating since freshman year. It was your senior year and the both of you had just turned 18 a few days prior as you both shared the same birthday. As graduation approaches you two attend the amusement park and Ian convinces you to get on Devil's Flight rollercoaster.

Warnings: character death, light smut, fem and male oral receiving, blood, light gore, they’re both stoners

The sounds of laughter and shouting filled the air as you and Ian walked around the field, enjoying each other's company as you laughed together, It was rare you both did anything other than go to school and work. The two of you did everything together, basically attached by the hip.

"I'm just saying if you get on the rollercoaster maybe—" He said, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear, "Maybee we can leave and go smoke."

You smiled turning your head to face him, "Hmm, I like that idea just as much as I love the idea of not getting on that death trap." You said, pecking his lips

"Come on babe, just this one ride, for me." He pouted.

"I'd rather ride you," You said, trying to throw him off but it wasn't working. "if I look at those tracks I'll throw up."

He laughed at you before moving behind you and placing his hands over your eyes. "Then let me be your eyes you little freak." He said making you laugh. "Get moving" He said, pushing his hips into your back making you walk with him leading you.

"Say cheese!" You could hear a girls voice say and Ian moving over slightly with his hands still over your eyes already knowing the pose you two wanted to do and then a small flash through Ian's hands met your eyes as you quickly smiled . "When I print these I'll give you two a copy for your wedding." You heard her say, now recognizing her voice as Wendy.

Wendy showing Ian the photo who smiled at it, "You don't wanna see it?" Wendy asked you.

"No can do," Ian said for you. "She can't see a thing until we are on that ride." He said, nodding his head towards the rollercoaster.

You felt a shift of the wind on you and your smile faded.

You two sat on line for about twenty minutes, his hands still covering your eyes. The more you moved the more you started to breathe heavier. You heard Ian talking to somebody, "Will you relax, between the two of you being pussies you're bumming me out." Ian said.

"Hey," You tried to say but he talked over you,

"The odds of you dying on a rollercoaster are like one in two hundred and fifty million." He added, you soon recognized the voice of Kevin who told him to shut up.

"We're probably that one." You almost gagged earning annoyed groans from the group in front of you. "Oh I'm gonna be sick." You said.

"Yea yea, keep it moving pip squeak." He said, walking you closer to the ride.

You two finally made it to the actual ride, Ian's hands still covering your eyes waiting for the gate to open, "You gotta use your eyes for one second and then you just keep em closed if you're that scared." He said to you softly, he moved his hands.

You opened your eyes and looked down, seeing the ride made you almost pass out but you stomached it for him, it's three minutes, what's the worst that can happen? Getting on the ride Ian waited for you to be seated and strapped you down, making sure it clicked into place before he took his seat. 

Your leg starting to bounce rapidly up and down which only made it feel like the ride was shaking. Ian placing his hand on your thigh to stop the shaking and then grabbing your hand. "Relax." He whispered to you, looking at the other people getting on were side eyeing you.

The ride shifting and making sounds which only scared you more, "Ian," You said swallowing hard, "I can't do this." You said, holding back tears,

A few seats behind you was Wendy who was also freaking out before you could protest further the ride was announced to start but Wendy started to scream.

"Don't push the button!" She started to shout. She was almost hysterical. "Let me out!" She shouted.

"Ian," You said, your voice shaky as you started to yelp a little too loud,

"Relax" Ian said, through his teeth as other people started to get annoyed with Wendy.

"Get me the fuck off! It's gonna crash the fucking ride if gonna crash!" She shouted, the back row including your seats had let up.

"Oh my god Ian, get me the fuck off." You said, frantically as you stood up, grabbing him by his shirt and shoving him off with you.

"Hey—hey babe chill." He exclaimed as he started to move so you would stop pushing him.

You felt light headed and like everything was static, going out through the back with Ian trying to catch your breath. You leaned over trying not to throw up. Ian rushing over to hold your hair back, "I hate you so much." You said starting to cry but he just laughed at you.

"Come on babe," He said, helping you stand up and pulling you into a hug. "Nothing even happened, you're alright. Let's go home, smoke some weed and go lay down." He said, kissing the top of your head as one hand entangled with your hair.

You heard the backdoor swing open and security had Wendy in his arms shoving her. "Hey! Let her go!" You said, leaving Ian's side and trying to grab security off Wendy until Kevin was shoved out as well. Ian rushed to grab you to get you off the guard.

"Wen chill." Kevin said to her trying to get her to calm down.

"Babe! Get off him!" Ian exclaimed to you.

The shouting and movement all came to a halt when you heard the sound of metal collapsing, all of you turning around to see half the ride flying off the tracks along with everybody who was on it who didn't get off.

"Jason!" Wendy shouted falling to her knees.

Kevin unsure of what to do with his mouth wide open, Ian pulling you in close to him and covering your eyes, keeping his grip tight on you and placing his mouth on the top of your head looking away himself.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

The weekend had ended and it was two days after your classmates had passed, you and Ian sat on the couch in his basement where you two were living. You were cuddled under his arm as you both watched a movie.

"I'm sorry." Ian finally said. You weren't mad at him, you weren't upset.

How were you guys supposed to know that would have happened, Ian would never put you in harm's way especially a death situation.

"For what?" You asked, keeping your eyes on the tv.

"For making you get on that ride. I should've listened to you, I won't drag you to do anything you don’t want to ever again." He said, placing his hand under your chin to make you look at him, planting a kiss on your lips.

You gave him a weak smile, "It's okay, we're still alive and have each other and that's all that matters." You said, pecking his lips before moving to get up. "I'm gonna go pack us a bowl, you gonna smoke it with me?" You asked.

Turning around Ian laid his hand across your ass making it sting, the loud slapping noise echoed. "That one hurt!" You laughed as you stumbled away.

Going into your room to grab your stuff you noticed the candles in the room were swaying back and forth a little too much before going out. It made you uneasy. You ignored it and began to grab what you needed before heading back out to the living room.

As you turned around you knocked into your bookshelf, bruising your hip a little and cursing to yourself. You made your way back out to Ian and started to do what you needed while he watched the tv.

In your room your bookshelf still rattled a bit after you slammed the door behind you, the candle on top falling over and wax spilling onto the outlet behind it, making the wires crackle. You took out your lighter and tried to ignite it but it wouldn't work.

"Fuck man, I can’t have anything." You said annoyed, placing the bowl down on the coffee table in front of you. Ian looking at you and letting out a huff of laughter, watching you walk back to your room.

You placed your hand on the knob you winced stepping back as it burned you.

"Everything okay babe?" He asked, looking at you concerned.

You could smell a fire, soon you heard something collapse inside the room. Ian stood up coming over to you, he saw a glimpse of the door knob turn when he smelled the fire. He lunged at you, pushing you out of the way as the door opened, causing the sudden heat to collide into the next room as the fire exploded past the two of you on the ground.

Your heart racing as he helped you up, your ears hurt from the sound as he held you close and lead you outside. "You saved my life." You said, eyes wide open as he turned to look back at his house engulfed in flames.

The firefighters arrived and put the fire out, your entire apartment was charred in ruins. Great. As you walked around the rubble the only thing that survived was a photo of you and Ian that Wendy had taken from that night.

Looking at the photo Ian had covered your eyes, the shading making you look orange and yellow but Ian looked fine other than you pointing your fingers at Ian like it was a gun.

"Just leave it." Ian said, his voice almost monotoned. "We can have her make us another one." He sighed. You could hear it in his voice he was stressed, you turned to him and saw him with a hand on his hip and the other on his forehead, "Fuck" He mumbled looking at the wreckage.

"Welp," He said, taking in a sharp breath, "Looks like we'll be staying in some gross run down motel until this is fucking fixed." He cursed, kicking the ply wood on the ground.

"Hey, I know it sucks but insurance covers it and your parents won't be back for another couple of months so we'll be okay." You said, moving to him and pulling him into a hug.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

The next day you two had shown up for the last week of school, not seeing Wendy once since the incident. As you walked to your locker to start emptying it out you were approached by two girls.

"Hey" Ashley said to you, "Heyy" Ashlyn cooed.

You thinned your lips into a fake smile, "Heyy" You said awkwardly.

Ashley kept her smile wide, "I heard about your house and we're like totally sorry that happened to you."

"Yeaa" The other cooed again, "We wanna know if you maybe wanna go tanning with us Friday?" Ashlyn asked, "We know you have that whole, Casper vibe going on—" She said, waving her hand in a circle at your appearance.

You raised your eyebrows at them.

Ashley was quick to try to recover, "I mean, Casper was totally adorable we don’t mean it in a bad way but listen—" She said, handing you a piece of paper. "Here is my cell if you ever wanna hangout."

You took the paper and just smiled at her, hoping they would both go away. Looking past you they saw Ian approaching, "A man loves a tan busty woman." Ashley said quickly to you.

"Yea you got a bangin bod, trust us men love a tan baddie." Ashlyn said, "Catch you later!" They both shouted as they walked away from you.

As the two practically ran away you heard Ian behind you, "What did they want?" He asked, watching them skip away happily.

You turned and looked at him confused, "They wanted me to go tanning and then told me I was as white as Casper the ghost and then said I had a 'bangin bod—'" You put in air quotations, "And then said you would love a tan busty woman."

Ian laughed and pulled at your hips close to him with your arms on his chest, "They were right about the bangin bod." He said, placing his hand on your ass.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, "Alright, enough." You said trying to escape his grasp.

"I would love to see you tan" He joked, fanning your lips. "Maybe you could dye your hair blonde and paint your nails pink while you're at it." He said, kissing your lips, not letting you move as he deepened the kiss. He pulled back and smiled at you. "I'm joking, don't ever do that."

"Okay."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

After school you two went straight to work, you both worked together at a hardware store. It was super lame but it was good money and at least you were together. The work day went by super slow. It was finally 9pm and you both had gotten off.

Getting into his van you lit a blunt almost immediatly. "Woah slow down little lady, save some for me." He said, taking it from your hands and holding it in his mouth while he started the van.

The motel was small but it worked for now, the two of you laid in bed but you couldn't shut your mind off. "What's wrong?" Ian asked you.

"I don't know," You sighed.

Ian moved to sit up, playing with your hair. "Yes you do."

You rolled your eyes, feeling how nice his hands felt in your hair. "I think I'm just stressed baby, nothing to worry about." You said, moving up to kiss him.

The kiss turning into a small make out before you felt Ian smile against your lips. He was quick to move his mouth to your cheek and down to your neck before he moved completely on top of you, kissing down your chest until he reached you breasts.

He pulled your tank top down, watching your breasts move slightly. "So beautiful." He said latching his mouth onto your nipple while his hand played with the other.

Small moans escaping your lips, his other hand trailing down your side until he reached your shorts. He got on his knees and sat up straight pulling your shorts down. "I know what will help," He said, looking down at your body.

You didn’t say much as you watched him lay on his stomach, his arms pulling at your thighs and moving you down to get more comfortable before placing his head in between your legs. You felt his tongue move to your heat and you started to squirm around, moaning with pleasure.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Friday had rolled around and it was the last day of school, you and Ian sat outside under the seating area while it rained.

"There she issss, Casper the bangin ghost" Ashley cooed as the two girls ran over and sat with you and Ian, making you two shoot a quick look at each other.

Within a few minutes others pulled in, Lewis, Wendy's sister and her two friends whom you didn't know. "Hey, Julie—" You called over to her making her look at you. "How's Wendy?" You asked, making everybody else go silent.

It was as if on que Wendy strolled past with Kevin behind her, "Just leave me alone," You could hear her say to Kevin.

Wendy was soaked in the rain, you went to say something to her but Ashley and Ashlyn were quicker. They got up and ran over to her. "Heyy, wanna come tanning with us later?" You could hear them say to her.

You and Ian laughing to each other as the girls were desperate to find a third. You stopped listening in as you and Ian started to talk, "How lame is it that my last name is the same as my high school." Ian said looking down at his yearbook.

"It's not that lame and besides I'm gonna have the same last name soon, you calling me lame?" You asked him, you looked up at him where he sat on the table and you on the bench.

Later that day you two were cooking dinner as you held the pans handle flipping the vegetables on it a quick flash of fire hit your face, not hurting you much but sinching your air. The smell of burnt hair roamed through the small motel room.

"Careful now babe, if you wanted to feel the heat so bad you should've gone tanning with dumb and dumber." He said behind you, one hand on your hip as his other turned the heat down on the stove.

"I would've gone to hang out with them if they literally invited me out to do anything else." You laughed.

You heard the phone ring and passed the pan to Ian, "I got it" You said, kissing him. "Hello?" you answered. Listening to Wendy on the other line the phone fell out of your hand as you had tears falling from your eyes. Everything felt as if it was in slow motions, Ian rushing to you asking what was wrong but you couldn't hear his voice.

You both sat at the dinner table with untouched food. The silence was eating at you but there was nothing to say. It sucks but at the end of the day you barely even knew them. The only reason they even talked to you was because they thought you had some trauma bond.

"Wanna smoke and go to bed?" Ian asked you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

You attended Ashley and Ashlyn's funeral with Ian, it was tense to say the least. Ian was never good at expressing his feelings and of course now he wanted to express it. "In equal death!?" He exclaimed, oh god. "Osama is still kicking why isn't he dead!? These girls did nothing to deserve this and you wanna go on about bullshit equal death?"

Kevin and Lewis trying to get him to shut up while you stood there with your head down with tears welling in your eyes. You followed Ian to his van and got in, he slammed his door shut and started to drive as soon as you put your seatbelt on.

The car ride was silent until Ian slammed both his fists against the steering wheel at a red light. "Fuck!" He shouted as he slammed the wheel again.

"Ian!"

"No! It's not fair!" He shouted at you, turning to you he realized he had just yelled at you. He took a deep breath in and out, "I'm sorry." He said, seeing your scared expression.

A knock at your window making you scream in fear. You turned to see Kevin. "What the fuck!?" You said rolling down your window, Ian looking at the light that was still red.

"We need to talk." He said, he reached his hand in and unlocked the door, opening it and making you slide to the middle seat as he got in.

"Oh yea, just get in my car, no biggie." Ian said sarcastically.

Hitting the gas as soon as the light turned green, not waiting for Kevin to fully be in which made him latch onto you and you pulled him in, the door slamming behind him.

"Wendy and I think something is wrong." Kevin said.

"Oh yea, then why isn't she here with you?" Ian asked.

"She's going to talk to Lewis." He said. "We think death is out to get us, we were supposed to die on those tracks." Kevin said getting right to the point.

You could hear the screams in your head from that night, the screams of your classmates dying. Ian hit the brakes as hard as he could making you and Kevin fly forward but Ian put his arm across your chest to stop you.

"Get the fuck out" Ian said, sternly, you could tell he was trying not to freak on him.

"Guys please—"

"Get the fuck out!" Ian shouted at him, making you and Kevin look at him like he was nuts.

You never saw Ian this mad ever and you had known him since you two were in elementary school. Kevin just looked at you, almost begging you to say something but you looked down at your lap.

"Can you at least drop me off at the gym? I won't talk, I promise." Kevin said.

Ian started to drive again and the car ride was painfully silent. You pulled up to the gym and saw Wendy standing outside, looking up at the gyms sign almost afraid to go in.

"Thanks." Kevin said, getting out of the car. Ian flipping him off as the door closed.

"Are you alright?" You asked Ian, moving back to your seat.

"I'm great babe, fucking great."

The two of you finally got back to the motel and you decided to take a shower. Ian sitting on the counter in the bathroom while he read a book and you washed up. You could hear him sigh before his movements, his belt coming off followed by the rest of his clothes, moving the curtain back and getting in the shower behind you, rubbing your shoulders and kissing your neck.

"I'm sorry baby, I just don’t want to think about losing you." He said gently. "it’s been freaking me out."

You turned around to face him, water droplets on his eyelashes as he blinked slowly, his hair falling with the water. You kissed him, wet lips meshing with yours.

"It’s okay, I just don’t think I've ever seen you this worried." You said to him.

He pulled you in close, skin to skin as the warm water fell on the two of you. You felt his length on your stomach harden. "Sorry, death is making me a little horny." He joked making you laugh.

You kissed him one more time before you slithered down getting on your knees. "W—what are you— fuck." He moaned.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

It was late, maybe a couple days after the funeral and you two were closing up the store. "Well maybe if he didn't make us close up alone like some kind of fucking slaves we could be relaxing at home." Ian said over your walkie talkie.

"We're almost out, don’t you worry handsome." You replied.

You set some pots out in their rightful spots, the wind around you shifting and you felt a bitter cold breeze. You could hear the screams again, it was almost like you had PTSD.

The sound of pounding on the gate fence made you scream, "What the fuck is wrong with you!? You gave me a heart attack!" You shouted.

"It's Kevin and Wendy!" Kevin shouted.

"Yea I can see that, what do you want?" You asked the two.

After them explaining their theory you felt a little uneasy, "Babe, come meet me in lights, I think you should hear this." You said over your walkie.

As you walked with Kevin and Wendy you couldn’t truly wrap your head around what they were saying. "So I'm gonna overdose on nail polish remover and Ian is gonna be embarrassed to death?" You asked.

"It's really not funny" Kevin said to you.

"I'm not trying to be funny you guys are freaking me out," You said, your voice lowering as you watched the lights all flicker.

You could see Ian pop is head out from where the control panel is, "That's crazy, that's crazy" He laughed.

Ian being forklift certified always scared you, he was sometimes careless up there but you had no choice but to trust him. He lowered himself and walked with the three of you as you pushed your shopping cart around.

"With the logic you're saying here right, say the last person to die kills themselves—"

"Ian, knock it off." You said to him.

"They would save five other people's lives so— who was the last to die? You Wendy? You gonna sacrifice yourself to save us or what?" Ian taunted.

It freaked you out but Ian didn’t seem to believe any of this, convinced it was all a coincidence. The wind inside shifting again and you looked up from where you stood, seeing all the wood piles up top. They began arguing but you ears went static and you started to have a panic attack.

"You made my girl upset, just leave!" Ian exclaimed going over to console you but Wendy started screaming.

"There! It's up there!" She shouted, Kevin running to push Ian out of the way. The boards falling as you started to panic.

Wendy, Kevin and Ian trapped underneath making you take a step back. You slipped on the dirt on the floor falling hard on your ass and your back hitting the piles of mulch. You felt a sharp pain in the back of your head which turned into immense pain. You were unsure of what was happening until you tasted blood in your mouth, the metallic taste dripping down your mouth as nails shot into your head.

You turned as much as you could to look at Ian. "Please, I don’t wanna die." You cried before blacking out. "Ian?"

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

You didn't have any family yet neither did Ian. You were his family. He stood outside, it had been dark and gloomy since you passed. He stood in his regular attire at your funeral that only he seemed to attend. It was bullshit, unfair. You were always so nice to everybody, sure you weren't anyone's friend but you would think they would have the decency to show up.

Ian had bloodshot eyes and dried tears on his face while he stood over your closed casket. He couldn't bare to look at the damage. He knew after this he planned to have your body cremated and he was going to put you in a vile and wear it as a necklace so you would always be with him.

He heard faint footsteps behind him but didn’t turn around, Kevin showing up in a suit. "Did I miss it?" He asked Ian.

"This is it." He said monotoned. "You know, she talked to everybody and I mean everybody. She didn't make any long term friendships but she tried and nobody—" He choked, "Nobody came." He said now crying.

Kevin walked next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I truly am. Wendy wanted to come but she—"

"No, I don’t care, she needs to stay far the fuck away from me." Ian cried. "She liked you, she defended you when I yelled at you to get the fuck out of my car so because of that I can't tell you to leave but I can tell you to stay the fuck away from me."

After the funeral as he drove home he thought of what Wendy and Kevin said, their theory and he decided what more did he have to lose?

He closed his eyes and hit the gas pedal, letting go of the wheel in heavy traffic yet not hitting a single car as they honked at him. His heart racing but after a minute he opened his eyes, regaining control of the wheel. He laughed at the excitement, between not sleeping or eating and crying all week he was going delirious. Over the next day he did everything to try to get himself killed. The gun was jammed, the rope broke, the pills he took somehow didn’t even kill him.

That's when he realized it truly skipped him and he was invincible, but he thought to himself— why does Wendy get to live?

[willowswiththorns]

Hello! Can you make Yandere Ian McKinley x unwilling bestfriend reader?

Hello! And yes I can! I haven’t seen much Ian McKinley fanfics lately, so I’m happy to write one! I will say it’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie, so if I mess up a few points in his character I apologize in advance! Also I’m not entirely sure what the unwilling part is, but I might have an idea. If I get it wrong too I’m sorry 😩 -Willow

Warnings / yandere themes, death, depictions of death, mentions of vomiting, unwilling reader, my horrible writing on the spot, proceed at your own caution.

Ian had texted you half an hour ago, mentioning how him and Erin would be getting off in twenty minutes. You knew the whole routine, he’d text you when they’re off, you’d be free and go over, all three of you would hang out until Erin wanted to go home, you’d drop Erin off and hang with Ian until one of you were tired. A typical Tuesday activity. The only thing unusual about today was the fact you waited for them to come out, but they never did.

Stepping into the hardware store, you felt a small pit in your stomach. The place itself was dark, but that was probably due to Ian and Erin closing up. It was the sound of sobs in the distance that made you uneasy. The closer you got, the more the gory details came into view. The sawdust and boards of wood scattered all over the floor where the four other people stood. Ian’s sobs rang loudly in your ears as he was holding the body of his now deceased girlfriend. Twelve big nails pieced through her head and hand, blood running down every new hole in her face. She must’ve passed almost instantly, but the sight alone was enough to make you gag. Wendy turned to face you, she was standing by Kevin, her face pale as she looked almost as shocked as you. “ Y/n? What’re you doing here?” Kevin called out, his voice shaky after he followed Wendy’s gaze, probably to avoid the gory scene in front of him.

The urge to vomit came up again, unable to answer as your eyes were glued onto Erin’s once beautiful face now mutilated into a disfigured mess. Trying to cover your mouth and nose wouldn’t stop the smell of the blood, a soft wail leaves your lips as you turn away to try and not look.

“ Y/n, if you need to step outside you can- “ Wendy said softly , walking toward you as a way of trying to comfort. “ but before you do, you need to know that you might be in danger” she continued softly.

The feeling of her hand touching your shoulder almost made you jump. She was trying to guide you away from the deadly situation. Another son ripped from you as you tried to look over your shoulder, seeing a glimpse of Ian getting up and noticing you being walked off by Wendy. Wendy pulled your attention back ,” Kevin and I tried to warn them- but it was too late. Y/n you might be able to help us.” She started, holding your shoulder as she grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket. “ Remember that night when I kept saying that everyone needed to get off the ride?” She asked softly.

You pondered back to that time. You were third wheeling with Erin and Ian, following them around when Ian mentions the rollercoaster. They seemed very excited to get on the death trap, but a part of you felt a little nervous. You couldn’t pin point it, but you felt uneasy at the idea of going on it. As you, Erin, and Ian waited in line, that nervousness grew. It wasn’t until Erin and Ian got on the ride where you stopped and told they were at full capacity. Both of them seemed bummed you weren’t going, Ian more so, but you couldn’t help but feel relief? Before the ride could even start, Wendy was freaking out and screaming to get off the ride, in return started a whole fight.

With a slight nod, you do your best to wipe the memory from your mind. Ian was a bit needy after the brawl he had, you had to clean up any small cuts he might’ve gotten from the other boys fighting. “ Yeah, I remember. What’s that have to do with Erin?” You asked, your voice a little shaky as you watched Wendy dial the police.

Her gaze lingered towards you for a moment ,” I had a vision of my death, mine and several others. “ her tone was low and stern, not wanting to show any signs of making some kind of sick joke.

“ What?- “ was all you were able to ask before you and Wendy heard yelling and rushed footsteps coming your way.

The feeling of a calloused hand touching the upper part of your back almost made you scream. You felt that hand grip your shirt and drag you back. Unable to maintain your balance, you accidentally stumbled onto the grabber. “ Stay away from her, Wendy. Stay the fuck away!” The familiar voice yelled out, his voice cracking as he has a good hold on you.

Kevin followed soon after, getting in between Ian and Wendy. Turning your head, you make eye contact with your best friend. His eyes were red and to the brim with tears. Wendy called out ,” Ian what happened to Erin wasn’t o-“

Ian’s grip tightened more as he held you close to his side. “ It is your fucking fault- she would be alive right now if it wasn’t for you! “ his voice was more shaky. Your hand reflexively touched his torso onto to quickly move your hand back. A Warm, sticky substance smeared all over his shirt and now your hand as you tried your best to wipe off your dead friend’s blood. “ Just fuck off- come on y/n” he yelled out one more time to Wendy and Kevin before dragging you off to the exit.

As you and Ian got more to the light, the more his clothes came into view. The dark red was smeared and spread all over his shirt and upper pants. His hands were also covered in blood as he forced the door open. “ Ian-“ you called out softly, trying to get out of his grip as he dragged you outside.

He didn’t acknowledge you for a good bit, unlocking his van before pushing you into the back. “ Ian!” You call out again, your voice louder as he muttered to himself.

His breath was shaky as he finally looked down at you. He was doing his best not to cry, and you felt yourself slowly not tensing up anymore. “ Ian I’m so sorry. What you must’ve saw in there, with Erin-“ you were cut off by Ian wrapping his arms around you, burying his face into your hair. He seemed to still be shaken up over Erin.

“ It’s their fault, they caused her death.” He choked out, keeping a firm hold on you as he continued,” I don’t want you near them.”

You felt your face heat up at that order, sure he lost Erin, but that wasn’t Wendy’s fault. It was a freak accident, and it’s not fair to punish Wendy or you by forcing either of you not to talk to each other. “ Ian, I can’t do that. Wendy is my friend too-“

Ian pulled his head out of your hair, his eyes holding a cold stare as he forced you to keep eye contact. His bloody hand touching your cheek, his thumb caressing your wet cheek despite the disgust on your face. The smell of blood so close to your face reeked. “ I can’t lose you too. Promise me you won’t talk to her. “ Ian’s voice was cold and firm.

You felt your stomach twist slightly at the sight of how scary he looked at you. “ Ian-“ You protested softly, trying to not be too harsh since he just lost his girlfriend.

Ian put his forehead to yours, still caressing your cheek with his red thumb. “ If you died I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Please… just please don’t leave my side right now. Erin was not even a foot away when she died. The nails went through her so quickly, I couldn’t even-“ he sucked in his breath as he tried his hardest not to gag at the thought. “ Just promise me you won’t talk to them. I’ve been your friend for years, you and Wendy aren’t as close as we are.” He whispered softly in your ear.

A small tear rolled down your cheek as he kept rambling how evil they were, how Erin was killed by their hands, how he’d protect you no matter what. He kept his hold firm on you as he pressed his face more towards you, his nose brushing yours now.

Shaking your head slightly, you gently tried to scoot away to make distance, however it was short lived as he scooted towards you. “ Ian, please.” You’d whisper, fat tears rolling down your bloody cheek as you looked at his already up close face .

His face grew closer as he kept muttering softly, his lips brushing yours slightly. “ It’s their fault. I lost Erin, I’m not losing you. You were both mine. My girls. I’m not losing you too” his tone was low, probably lost in his own head as his lips grazed yours as he spoke.

A pit grew in your stomach as you put a hand to his chest, not knowing how to calm Ian down. You didn’t want Ian to be like this. “ Ian, I’m not yours, we’re just friends-“

Cracked lips leave a small peck on your lips as he got even closer. “ You are mine. Even before all of this, you were always by my side” his voice was raspy and his breath smelled of cigarettes and mint. He gave another kiss as he pulled you in.

A small whine leaves your lips as he drags you closer to him, his hand sliding up your shirt ever so slightly. “ Ian, you have a girlfriend!” You cried out, glaring him down as he finally looks into your eyes.

Ian rolled his eyes after a moment of you both staring each other down. “ Even when Erin was alive, she knew what I felt about you. She didn’t care as long as I loved her too. And I do, really. She even helped me with getting you to hang out with us. She wouldn’t care if I kept having you by my side even when she’s gone..” Ian confessed, his hand slowly going up your shirt. His wet, sticky hand felt warm against your cool skin.

The confession alone almost made you throw up. Before you could even speak, his lips crashed into yours. He used his free hand that wasn’t under the back of your shirt to hold down the back of your neck, mostly to keep you in place as he deepened the kiss.

In the end it didn’t matter if you wanted him or not, he wasn’t losing you like he lost Erin. You were his until death was coming to collect him.

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

Thank you for reading! I really tried my best, I wrote this all in one sitting within an hour. So I’m sure there’s probably a lot of grammar/spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoyed!

[charliedawn]

Hello again! •^ ^• I was wondering if you could do Hannibals reacting to reader that's sensitive? Like if you yell at them they'll cry and they used to get bullied because there a cry baby. But because there so sensitive there clingy! If not I get it have a good day/night :3

Take this ->🍫🎂🍬

Author: Munch Munch. Thank you for the snack. 👍

Hannibal Lecter Sr. :

At first, he would find your sensitivity inconvenient. He’s used to strength, resilience, people who know how to take care of themselves. But the first time he accidentally raised his voice at you—watching you flinch, your eyes welling up—he would feel something unexpected: guilt.

He’d kneel in front of you, tilt your chin up with infinite care, and wipe your tears with his thumb.

"You must never cry because of me," he would tell you. "Only fools cry when they are being attacked, little lamb. I will correct that flaw in you, make you stronger. Just never cry in my presence again."

Also, you would make him think of the little sister he lost at a young age. From that moment, your clinginess would be welcome. When you seek him out, clinging to his coat, to his sleeve, to his hand—he would let you, even encourage you quietly. You’re not weak in his eyes. You’re something rare, like a pearl formed out of pain. Something he must keep and protect. He would turn you into his perfect companion.

Hannibal Lecter Jr. :

Hannibal Jr. would immediately understand you. Maybe too well.

When you start crying, even over small things, he won’t mock you or get impatient. He would just calmly sit beside you, offering you a handkerchief, letting you cry it out while staying close—silent, solid, safe. He would never raise his voice at you intentionally. In fact, if someone else did, he’d correct them in a way so chillingly quiet that nobody would dare upset you again.

If you cling to him afterward, desperate for comfort, he would hum softly and rub your back, whispering against your temple:

"It’s alright, love. I am here. Cry all you need. They hurt you before. They won’t ever again."

You’d be like a beloved stray kitten he adopted and that he refuses to let the world harm anymore.

Morgan Hannibal :

Morgan would struggle at first. He’s sharp-tongued and sarcastic—he’s used to tough people giving it back to him. The first time you cried when he teased you too roughly, it would leave him dumbfounded.

He would freeze, panic clear in his wide blue eyes, and immediately backpedal, awkwardly trying to apologize even if he doesn’t know how.

If you cling to him, he wouldn’t dare push you away. He’d just awkwardly wrap his arms around you, swearing under his breath and hating himself for making you sad. He would tap your back awkwardly before attempting to smile reassuringly at you.

Over time, your clinginess would become something he craved. You would find him deliberately starting little ‘accidents’—spilling something, stubbing his toe—just to coax you into hugging him. Or if he found you crying ? Well…

"If you’re gonna cry," he’d smile down at you, "at least cry here. On me. I can take it."

If it was because of someone else ? Yep. Goodbye. He would hunt whoever made you cry and turn them into human sashimi.

Kevin Hannibal:

Kevin would be the worst and the best about it.

At first, he’d probably tease you, because he doesn’t understand how badly it hurts. "Oi, tears already ? Haven’t even started yet !"

But the moment he realized your history with being bullied—how much the words genuinely hurt you—it would wreck him.

You clinging to him like a lifeline would make him fiercely protective. If you sniffle and cling to his sleeve or jacket, he’d ruffle your hair (gently) and mutter,

"Yeah, yeah, alright, hang onto me. Anyone tries to mess with you again, I’ll bloody end them, alright ?"

Expect tight, tight hugs and messy kisses on your forehead whenever you get overwhelmed.

Peter Hannibal:

Peter would cry with you. No joke. The first time you burst into tears, he would just lose it emotionally right beside you. Big, teary, sniffly hugs.

You two would be clinging onto each other like two over-soaked teddy bears.

He wouldn’t even let go once you calmed down—he’d just hold you, petting your hair, rocking you back and forth.

"You’re perfect the way you are," he’d whisper against your ear, choked up. "Anyone who hurt you before…they didn’t deserve you. They were just mean. Do you want me to kill them ? Because I would. I mean…if you want to."

If you’re clingy, he’s even clingier. You’ll basically be a walking tangle of limbs, kisses, and murmured reassurances wherever you go.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Rogue-Wedding

Jay Halstead x Reader (Nicknamed Rogue)

You and Jay finally get married

Warnings: Lots of Fluff and some Smut at the end

Waking up in Jay’s arms after everything you’d gone through with the weight of your engagement ring on your finger felt like you should be waking up from a dream. Could life actually be giving you something good? 

You felt him stir behind you and not for the first time it was like he read your mind. His lips found your bare shoulder before he spoke low “It’s ok to be happy baby, we found our way back to each other. We’re not taking away from losing them by being happy together” you turned in his arms and smiled up at him “I love you so damn much Mr Halstead” he grinned “I love you so damn much soon to be Mrs Halstead”

The plan was to call as soon as the courthouse opened and see what time you could schedule an appointment to go get married. You didn’t care about a big fuss, you just wanted each other. You’d stop by the jewelry store to pick wedding bands before the appointment.

“Are you gonna call Will?” you asked and he nodded “As soon as we find out what time” you smiled “We’re really getting married today, aren’t we?” he grinned “Unless you’ve changed your mind” you laughed “No way in hell Halstead. I’ve loved you for far too long, besides Ryatt did approve after all” he smiled softly and pulled up your left hand to press a kiss to your ring “He helped pick this out too”

Your heart flipped in your chest at finding out your brother helped to pick out the ring now resting on your hand “How?” Ryatt had been gone for weeks before his death. Jay grinned “Quite a few facetime calls and emails back and forth” you blinked back tears but for the first time in a very long time those tears weren’t from sorrow. Those tears were from being able to remember your brother, alive and happy. Not in those final moments.

“Rogue?” Jay whispered, worry filling his eyes as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. You met his eyes “I’m ok. I promise, just I miss him so much Jay” he smiled and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips “I know sweetheart, I’d give anything to be able to give him back to you. I promise I’m going to be the best husband I can possibly be. I’ll make him proud to have given his blessing”

You ducked your head down, nuzzling into his chest “We need to get up so we can head into work” he chuckled lightly “Wait, are you actually going to ride into work with me?” you pulled back from his chest to look up at him “Well, I mean it would only make sense to take the same vehicle to our wedding” the biggest smile you’d ever seen from him slipped onto his face “You’re gonna be my wife by the time we come home tonight” you shook your head “You’re a freaking dork love” he laughed “But I’m yours, that is the only thing on earth that could possibly matter to me”

When Jay pulled into the parking lot of the precinct you saw Erin standing there talking to Kim and Adam. When she realized you were in the truck with Jay she grinned. As soon as the truck parked and you climbed out she winked at you before Jay walked around to slip his hand into yours.

Kim and Adam both smiled when they saw the action. While you, Jay and Erin hadn’t exactly aired dirty laundry no one was idiots. They knew something had been up so seeing you two back hand in hand put a smile on their faces.

_________________________

You were talking to Kevin and Antonio when Jay walked into the breakroom and called your name lightly. You looked up and he tilted his head out “Can we talk for like five minutes” you smiled “Sure” Kevin winked at you when you stood to walk out.

The moment you made it out of the breakroom Jay grabbed your arm and pulled you into the back hallway that led down to rollup. “Our appointment is at eleven” you grinned “Ok. Do we tell them?” “Tell us what?” you heard from behind the two of you and turned to see Mouse had come up from the tech room and caught the last part of the conversation. You looked up at Jay with wide eyes. He shrugged “This is up to you princess,however you want to play this”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth then nodded, “Screw it” you grabbed Jay’s hand and nodded to Mouse “Well come on” he looked at Jay who shrugged so both men followed you back into the bullpen. 

The unit didn’t currently have an active case so you walked to Voight’s office and knocked on the door “Boss, can I well can me and Jay talk to you and well the entire unit for a second?” he raised an eyebrow but stood up “Sure” he walked out into the bullpen and when he did everyone turned their eyes to him. He shook his head “Rogue and Jay have the floor”

You felt Jay’s arm slip around your waist and you leaned back to look up at him. You grinned and held up your left hand “Jay and I are getting married at eleven at the courthouse if all of you wanna come?” the entire room damn near erupted. 

“What?” Adam laughed. “Congratulations you two” Al told you. “Never knew you had it in you to actually get her” Antonio teased Jay. “You know I’m coming” Kevin told you with a wink. “No way am I missing your wedding” Mouse told Jay, slapping his shoulder. “I’m coming too” Hank told you. You looked towards Erin and she smiled “Can I come?” “You’re my best friend. You better be there” she smiled “Then I’d love to”

Hank tapped your shoulder “Get your ass downstairs and invite Platt. No one wants to deal with her finding out the two of you got married and she wasn’t invited” you looked at Jay and he shook his head “She likes you better baby” “Everyone likes her better” Al argued and Jay didn’t try to deny it, he just nodded “Fair enough man”

The judge looked a little surprised because when Jay first called he’d said it would be you, him and Will. You showed up with Hank, Al, Erin, Kevin, Adam, Antonio, Kim and Trudy also. That was the family you had. 

You lightly touched your necklace as you waited and Jay clocked the movement “Are you ok baby?” you nodded “I’m good” Kevin stepped up next to you and offered you his arm “Not a traditional wedding but I can give you away for Ry?” you damn near cried again “Thank you Kev” he nodded “I told you, I got you”

__________________

You stood in front of Jay, both of you holding each other’s hands. Your vows were exchanged, the rings were on your fingers. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride” 

Your heart leapt into your throat as Jay’s hands dropped down to your hips and yours went to his shoulders. When his lips met yours, you made a light noise in the back of your throat as he kissed you. You were his wife. He was your husband. Finally, after all the hell you’d been through you made it to this point.

Hank and Al cleared their throats after a second and you felt your face warm. Al laughed “Save that for tonight kids” you hid your face in Jay’s chest as he wrapped both arms around you.  Will pulled you out of Jay’s arms and into a hug “I love you Rogue, you’ll always be my sister too”

You smiled up at him “Thank you Will, I love you too” everyone started hugging and congratulating you and Jay. You could barely take your eyes off of him. He was your husband. God that sounded so strange. Just a couple weeks ago it felt like this was unattainable and now here you were.

When Erin got to you she stopped and held her arms out. You practically ran into them “The past is the past. I love you Erin Lindsay” she laughed and kissed your cheek “Love you too Rogue Halstead” you felt your face warm.

Mouse bumped your shoulder and grinned “I feel like since I told you about that ring yesterday I should get a hug here” you nodded “Come here Gerwitz” he pulled you into a hug and you laughed when Jay called out “Back up man, I told you about hitting on her” Mouse picked you up and spun you around “Oh yeah I’m keeping her” and winked at you before putting you down.

The celebration was interrupted by a call coming into Hank’s phone. He took it then looked around “Well you two are gonna have to save this for later, we gotta get to work” you grabbed Jay’s hand and nodded to Will “See you later Will” and the unit rolled out to head the scene all of you had just been summoned to.

When it was finally time to head home that day you were trying to act as if you weren’t quite as eager as you were to get out of the door. Erin passed you and Jay in the parking lot. She winked at you “Congrats again babe”

Mouse called Jay’s name from across the parking lot then hollered “HAVE FUN” you felt your face warm when Jay flipped Mouse off then held the truck door open for you. You loved your friends but damn did he have to call you two out like that? As if everyone didn’t already know what you and Jay were waiting all day for?

You climbed into the truck and Jay walked around to the driver’s side. He shut his door and shook his head “He’s an ass” you rolled your head over to look at him “But he’s not wrong. Takeout should be waiting at the door. It’s friday Mr Halstead, I’m keeping you in that bed until monday rolls around or until we get called to a case”

The grin he gave you in turn was worth everything “Yes ma’am Mrs Halstead”

There was a trail of clothes throughout the apartment, boots by the door then jackets thrown somewhere…you had no idea where your shirt had ended up and your bra could be only god knows where.

All you knew was how it felt for Jay’s hands to be on your body, his lips on your skin. Jay brushed a kiss against your lips as he rolled his hips into yours, the room was filled with the sounds of your mixed breaths and skin hitting skin. 

You could feel the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. “I love you so much Mrs Halstead” he breathed against your neck. Your head fell back against the pillows as you felt your orgasm build “I love you Mr Halstead” you whimpered right before his fingers found your clit rubbing tight circles onto it.

Your orgasm slammed into you and when you came you fell apart under him, you shook in his embrace, every emotion you’d buried coming out in that moment. Tears teasing down your face “Baby?” he whispered and you shook your head “Don’t stop, please..let me feel you” he smiled against your skin, keeping the same pace “Does it feel that good? Making my wife feel so good she’s crying?”

You nodded “Yeah baby, you are. My husband is making me feel so damn good” your words seemed to spur him on because his thrusts got harder and deeper. His hips snapped into yours twice more before he buried himself as far as he could inside of you before you felt when he came. Thick spurts of cum filling you and dripping back down your thighs as gasps of his name left your lips.

He barely held himself up from collapsing on you. He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose then your lips. He smiled against your mouth “I love you with everything Mrs Halstead” “I love you too Mr Halstead” you breathed and he grinned, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Jay rolled his hips into yours once more, enjoying the noises it pulled from you. He had you in his arms. You were his wife. His wife. He pressed a kiss to your lips then your neck then your collarbone, whispering against your skin “You’re my wife baby” you laughed sleepily “I know love, your wife needs to get cleaned up because her husband filled her up” 

He laughed and leaned up to catch your lips in a gentle kiss as he pulled out of you, apologizing when you made a light noise “I’ll go get the water right in the shower then come get you, ok?” you smiled up at him “You’re such a good husband Jay” he shook his head “I haven’t even been a husband a day Rogue” you shrugged “You’re mine, that’s all that matters” he felt his heart flip “I love you” “I love you too” 

@allisonargent144

@nevaehstreater18

@elvenpirate51

@voidvinyls

@bonnyclydecat

[lareynaderucorazon]

Sol x Reader, long post, Minors DNI

"I'm home"

You call out as you take off your shoes. Not even a moment later Sol greets you with a kiss.

"Hi babe, how was your day?"

"Mm nothing special. How was work?"

"Ugh don't even get me started. This new hire, Kevin." You rolled your eyes at the thought of that man.

"But I'm home here with you now so all of that doesn't matter." You put your shoes up and follow your wife into the kitchen.

"Endonde esta Sebastian?"

"He's upstairs finishing his homework."

"Hmm my baby's so studious."

Sol stands over the stove in his frilly green apron. You hug him from behind and peek over his shoulder.

"What gourmet dish did you cook up for us today?"

"Well you've been craving shrimp pasta so I made shrimp fettuccini and some garlic toast."

"So that was the heavenly smell I smelled as soon ans I walked through the door."

Sol slightly blushed. He knew he was married to the love of his life for seven years now but he still couldn't get over how she complemented his cooking. He felt a little embarrassed being put on the spot but, nonetheless, pride swelled in his heart at how he's able to take care of his wife.

"Dinner's ready."

"I'll go get Sebastian."

You walked away but not before you slyly groped his ass cheek. Sol's face turned red and he covered his ass with his hands before turning to softly glare at you. You only sent him a kiss before laughing and walking away.

As you walked up the stairs you could hear faint piano music coming from your son's room. You knocked and waited for him to say come in before you opened the door.

Your son looked up at you, tearing his attention away from his homework.

"Oh hey mom, when did you get back from work?"

"Just right now. I came to get you for dinner, dad made pasta."

"I'll be right there, I'm just trying to finish this last question but I can't get past it."

"Oh what class is it for?"

"Spanish."

"Hm let me see it."

Question: Maria compro ocho frutas. Tres naranjas, dos pinas, una sandia, y dos manzanas. Cada naranja cuesta veinte y ocho pesos y cuarenta y uno centavos. Cada pina cuesta cincuenta pesos y setenta y tres centavos. Una sandia cuesta sesenta y nueve pesos y ochenta y cinco centavos. Cada manzana cuesta veinte y tres pesos y sesenta y ocho centavos. Cuanto pago Maria en dollares?

"Ok wow, that's a lot of information."

"I know right."

"Ok so lets break it down in English first. The problem say, follow along with me, Maria bought 8 fruits. Write down the numbers on top of the words so you can visualize it better. Ok, she bought 3 oranges, 2 pineapples, one watermelon, and 2 apples. Each orange costs 28 pesos and 41 cents, Each pineapple costs 50 pesos and 73 cents. One watermelon costs 79 pesos and 85 cents. Each apple costs 23 pesos and 78 cents. Did you get all that?"

"Yeah."

"Is it easier to see all the numbers written down?"

"A lot easier."

"Now remember its asking for the total in dollars and they gave us the amounts is pesos. So add all of the numbers up and then we are gonna convert the total amount into dollars."

"But how are we going to do that if the teacher didn't give us the conversion rate?"

"The internet my son. What's the total amount?"

"314.1 pesos"

"Now, looking it up on yoogle, you get 1 dollar per every 16.91 pesos. So, you divide the total amount by 16.91 and then you get your answer, which is?"

"18.6 dollars!"

"That's my boy, now let's go down and eat dinner before it gets cold."

You and your son head down to the dinner table where your husband was patiently waiting for you to.

"What took so long?"

"Homework." You and your son said simultaneously. You both laughed before all three of you started to dig in.

🤎timeskip cuz im lazy + smut🤎

Your husband was now washing the dishes as you boxed up the leftovers for your lunch tomorrow. As soon you as you were done with that you were right back onto clinging to your husband. You started trailing kisses up and down his neck, leaving hickies in certain areas. Sol started to groan as you were caressing his hips, occasionally trailing over his hard on before going under his shirt to play with his nipples.

"Mmf."

You leaned into his ear while groping his bulge.

"Shh baby."

"Wha-haa. What abous Sebastian?"

"Taking a shower. Now let me take care of my sexy husband."

You decided you were done with the teasing, so your hands finally found their way under Sol's waistband and at the base of his cock.

"Hm? What's this? Basketball shorts and no draws? You wanted this to happen didn't you? You were fantasizing about this all day weren't you?"

You teased your husband, both with your words and with your hands, slowly traversing up and down his length while occasionally flicking his head.

"Tha-hah. That's not... true."

"It's not? You don't want this? Should I stop?"

"No! No please keep going." Sol could feel you smirk against his shoulder which caused shivers to run down his spine.

"That's my pretty husband. Look at your pretty pink cock in your wife's hands. You love this don't you?"

"Yess!"

"Sh!" You tugged on his dick a little harsher which caused him to bend over and for him to almost drop a plate.

You heard the water turn off upstairs so you knew you had to finish him off quick. You let go of Sol's dick which caused him to whine. You grabbed his hips before harshly turning him around and getting on your knees. Sol's breath hitched in his throat when he felt your warm wet mouth take him all in. He gripped onto the sink as you practically sucked the soul out of him.

"Y/nn. Fuck."

You knew he was about to come so you quickened your pace and started fondling his balls.

Sol's release came quick and powerfully. His eyes rolled to the back of his head while his body involuntarily jerked itself further into his wife's mouth. His hips sputtered for a few seconds before they eventually stopped.

Sol's body fell flaccid against the counter, so you picked up his shorts and gave him a kiss.

"Thanks for desert honey. Why don't you go get ready for bed while I finish up the rest of these dishes."

Sol could only nod and wobble away, the high still heavily weighing on his mind.

Finishing the dishes only took 10 minutes, and once you were done you walked up to your son's room to wish him goodnight. He looked around, trying to spot Sol.

"Where's dad?"

"Oh, he went to bed early. He was really tired today."

"Hm ok. Goodnight mom."

"Goodnight sweetie."

You turned off his lights and left your son's room. You walked down to the opposite end of the hallway to enter your room where you found Sol laying on the bed, staring up into the ceiling. He greeted you with a warm smile and love filled eyes. You smirked while closing and locking the door. You stripped out of your clothes and you could see excitement spark into your husband's eyes.

"Ready for round two?"

Sol belongs to @fantasia-kitt

[sevasey51]

At Mollys Connor and Y/N are with her brothers (maybe some people from gore and PD). Charlie is with them and he alerts Y/N and Connor to an incoming episode.

❤️❤️

Charlie’s Cue

Summary: At Molly’s with family and friends, a laid-back night turns serious when Charlie—Y/N and Connor’s loyal golden retriever—alerts to an oncoming POTS episode. What starts as a fun evening quickly becomes a demonstration of love, awareness, and the power of a well-trained medical alert dog.

It was one of those rare Chicago nights—cool, breezy, and clear—where everything felt still for a minute. Molly’s patio was strung with lights, the kind that made the wood tables glow soft and warm. Laughter filled the air. At the corner table sat a familiar group: Connor and Y/N, her brothers Will and Jay, Kelly and Matt, Kevin, Adam, and even Voight, who—surprisingly—didn’t mind sharing a round of drinks with the rest.

Charlie lay curled under the table, tail thumping occasionally whenever someone dropped a piece of food or reached down to give him a scratch. He was a golden retriever with a service vest clipped on, medical alert dog lettering clear on the side. Most people thought he was just a good dog—well-behaved, loyal. But for Y/N, he was so much more.

She had been smiling a minute ago. Laughing at something Adam had said about Burgess’s terrible karaoke performance last weekend. Connor had his arm over the back of her chair, occasionally rubbing her shoulder. She looked okay.

Until Charlie shifted.

Connor noticed it first. Charlie’s entire demeanor changed—ears alert, eyes locked on Y/N, and then he nosed her leg and let out a soft whine.

Connor straightened instantly. “Babe?” he asked, already sliding closer.

Y/N blinked slowly, swaying just enough to make Jay glance her way. “I—I think it’s coming,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the table. “Charlie picked it up before I did.”

Charlie now stood, nuzzling her hand insistently, as if begging her to lie down. Matt and Kelly had gone quiet. Will was already out of his seat, rounding the table to kneel beside her.

“I’ve got her,” Connor said gently, already guiding her out of the chair. “We’ll move inside.”

“No, I can stay out here—” Y/N tried, voice shaky.

“Sweetheart,” Connor interrupted softly. “You’re pale. You’re starting to slump. We’re going inside, okay?”

She didn’t argue after that.

Jay stood protectively behind them while Connor and Will helped her into the quieter part of the bar. Voight cleared a space without saying a word. He knew that look on her face: the one she wore before her body betrayed her.

Inside, she was lowered onto one of the padded benches. Charlie curled protectively at her feet.

“Pulse is fast,” Will murmured as he checked her radial. “She’s dry. You guys have the emergency kit with fluids?”

Connor nodded. “Always in the car.”

“I’ll grab it,” Jay said before anyone else could move.

Connor knelt in front of her, placing a hand on her cheek. “You’re doing great. Just focus on me, okay?”

Y/N closed her eyes. “I hate this.”

“I know, baby.” He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “But you’ve got us. And Charlie caught it before it got ugly.”

When Jay returned with the emergency bag, Will started prepping a liter of saline. Connor checked her pupils and blood pressure. “We’re gonna get ahead of this one. You caught it early.”

Y/N managed a small, tired smile. “Charlie caught it.”

Connor gave the golden retriever a fond look. “You’re getting an entire steak later, buddy.”

Once fluids were running and Y/N began to feel grounded again, the group slowly trickled in one by one to check on her. Adam brought her a ginger ale. Kevin pulled out his phone to distract her with puppy videos. Voight nodded and simply said, “Tough kid.”

She leaned into Connor, resting against him on the booth bench, IV running, head on his shoulder. “Sorry for ruining the night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Will said with a shrug. “You’re our sister.”

“And my wife,” Connor added. “And we go where you go. Even if it’s to a booth with IVs and Charlie being the real MVP.”

Charlie gave a small tail wag and rested his head gently on Y/N’s lap, still alert, always ready.

[dykekarkat]

6k words into this and neil still isnt in heat however i did still write 2k words of porn already so i fear this fic is gonna get longer than i was originally planning for anyway heres another sneak peak ^-^

Aaron is the one who finally puts it together, with a lot of disgusted exclamations. That leads to Kevin ranting about how Neil better be okay before practices start soon. Andrew turns the music up until it’s ringing in his ears when Nicky goes to open his mouth.

He drops them off without a word, tires squealing as he peels away before they can get a word in edgewise. The fact that his driving could be considered reckless even according to his own standards has nothing to do with Neil, he assures himself. Neil might be alone, on the edge of heat and anxious in his own way, but Andrew is not pushing a hundred to get back to him quicker. Not at all.

When he finally makes it through the front door, Neil is obsessively checking the locks on the windows and the backdoor. He lunges as soon as Andrew comes through the front, canines poised to tear into an intruder.

Andrew almost immediately walks back out, he can sleep in the car if Neil needs him too. Except, Neil stops mid lunge, breathing deeply as he takes in Andrew’s scent.

His glare doesn’t shrink but his canines do, “You smell like them. Can I scent you?” Andrew can tell he isn’t in heat yet, but the sweet spice scent is much stronger than earlier. He’s had more time to get used to the spice of cinnamon and orange that invades his nose, but now it’s heady to the point that he can taste it. He needs to keep himself under control, but his mouth is already salivating.

Andrew rolls his eyes, giving nothing away, “Yes, Junkie. You can scent me.”

Neil is on him in the next second. He doesn’t push him into the wall, too aware of Andrew’s boundaries even on the edge of his sanity, but his hands are frantic as he paws at the neck of Andrew’s hoodie. Neil’s sigh of relief as he strokes Andrew’s scent gland gently with his ruined fingers is torturous. Neil is quick to replace his hand with his face, humming softly as he breathes in Andrew’s own woodsy amber scent. He shivers as Neil’s nose traces the veins of his neck, his lips parted but not quite touching where Andrew really wants them.

At some point Andrew can’t take it anymore. His voice is gravelly when he finally speaks, “Yes or No.”

Neil’s pupils are so blown when he pulls back that the blue of his eyes is nearly eclipsed. He nearly can’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes Andrew of course ye-”

He cuts him off, nearly as frantic even without heat in his veins, “Waist and up,” and then Andrew kisses him.

[mustlovetommy]

For the kiss meme, Bucktommy and #16?

Hi, Liv! Thank you so much for this! I'm so sorry that it took me this long! Hope you like it!

16. …lazily.

“She finally fell asleep,” Evan says as he steps into their bedroom, looking all rumpled and exhausted. 

“I thought I would take long trying to get Kevin to sleep but I beat you for like 15 minutes…” Tommy shrugs his shoulders with a grin. 

“Ugh,” Evan groans and plops himself down on the bed beside Tommy. 

Tommy chuckles and reaches over, giving Evan’s thigh a gentle pat. 

“An entire day with them and I feel more tired than when I come off a 48-hour shift,” Evan whines. 

“I know… who would have thought?” Tommy agrees, turning on his side to face him.

“I kind of loved it, though,” Evan whispers as if it were a secret, shifting his position and mirroring him.

“Yeah… I-my heart still skips a beat whenever Jee calls me ‘Uncle Tommy’ and Kevin seems to like me,” Tommy murmurs, gently carding his fingers through Evan’s curls. 

“He does… and you’re amazing with him,” Evan says, closing his eyes as he melts into the touch and leans into it. “And you’re so good with Jee too.” 

Tommy hesitates. “Do you…,” Tommy starts but then he falters, second guessing himself. “No, never mind.”

“No! You can’t do that! What? Tell me! Do I what?” Evan asks, grabbing Tommy’s hand from his hair and pressing a kiss to his palm. 

As Tommy fights with himself, he studies Evan, who is looking at him encouragingly. 

Sighing, Tommy asks, dropping his eyes to Evan’s chest instead of his face, afraid of seeing his expression. “Do you think I could be a good dad?”

Evan doesn’t respond for a couple of seconds, so Tommy closes his eyes, already regretting asking the question. 

“Hey,” Evan finally says softly, reaching out to tilt Tommy’s chin up. “Look at me, please.” 

Tommy exhales shakily and then opens his eyes. 

Evan is looking at him with adoration and love in his eyes and a loving smile on his face. “I think you’re going to be an incredible dad,” he says with certainty.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, voice thick with emotion and feeling all choked up. 

Evan nods. “I have no doubt about it. Actually… Well, I-I can’t wait for us to be dads someday.”

“Really?”

“Would you like that?” Evan asks him, shyly.

“I would, yeah,” Tommy replies with a smile and leans in for a kiss. 

Their lips meet and Evan kisses him even though he has a big smile on his face. When their teeth knock together, Tommy rests his forehead against Evan’s and they both chuckle.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Tommy’s hand lifts to touch Evan’s cheek and he draws him in for another kiss. Evan meets him halfway, pressing and moving his lips against Tommy’s softly. 

They kiss and kiss and kiss but it doesn’t go beyond that, both too tired for something else.

As time passes, their lips still and stop moving, and they pull apart. Their faces remain close enough that they can feel each other’s breaths in the space between them. It’s in that position, that they drift off to sleep.

[neowqing]

Wymack was Kevin's father, and a father figure to Neil and Andrew. Aaron watched the coach watch the three, gently pushing them to their limits and then pushing them beyond because he knew they were capable. The way David cares for Andrew makes Aaron's heart clench, his brother has the ghost of a smile when Wymack is arguing, but without the bite or accusations, it's a beautiful picture hardened in his memory before he leaves Palmetto.

Aaron spends years at university, good studies, lack of sleep, energy, five times facing stomach pain, he doesn't tell anyone about it, everything that will lead him to the end of the road, his diploma, internship, and graduation, he is tired of everything but happy, with a bouquet of flowers from Katelyn, and she has a similar one in her hands, they take pictures together as she walks on to greet her friends, kisses Aaron on the cheek, and Aaron sits down in a chair, putting the bouquet down on the next one, tired, with a slight headache.

"Aaron" comes from his left, and Aaron turns round.

Wymack, with the potted violets, had come up without Aaron noticing.

"Coach..." Aaron stands up, confused, as the man embraces him, hugging him, rubbing his back and shoulder.

"I'm not your coach anymore. You did well, good job." Aaron freezes at the words before hugging David back. "You worked hard, didn't you?"

Aaron nods, clears his throat, and sniffs. Wymack hands over the flowers, ruffling Minyard's hair.

"Was it hard?"

"A little easier than exy" Aaron replies, looking at the violets. Wymack snorts.

"You did well, son."

"Son", Aaron tries not to think about it, it's just a friendly nickname, like when Waimak used to call him "kid", but his cheeks seem to be burning.

Aaron gives him a tour of the corridors and halls, he briefly describes the teachers and subjects, and maybe the coach is just pretending, but he is very convincing, as if he is interested and wants to know how Aaron has been all this time. Minyard also asks about Palmetto, and laughs when Wymack swears at the players.

They walk back into the hall, still full of graduates and their families and friends, when Aaron sees Andrew. He knows Andrew had a game today and honestly wasn't expecting to see him, especially not at his graduation, Andrew crosses the path in a matter of seconds, they stand awkwardly, Andrew with an unseen nervousness reflected by the twitching of his hands and Aaron with a question in his eyes and the pot in his hand and the diploma between them, as Andrew makes one last move, hugging Aaron.

It's unexpected. The 16-year-old Aaron had little knowledge of consent, so when he sees his twin, whom he has known for 3 years, he rushes forward, hugging Andrew. Then Andrew froze for exactly a second and relaxed, it was instinctive, he wanted to throw Aaron away, as he later did with Nicky, who tried to touch him, but for some reason Andrew couldn't do it. They hugged once, because then Aaron realised that Andrew didn't like it.

But now Andrew does it first, not just hugging him back, but initiating the hug, something he had never done in his sober and uninjured state.

"You?" Aaron is confused, he raises his free hand but does not touch Andrew.

"I was in therapy," Andrew grumbles softly against his ear.

"You wanted to hug Josten?" Aaron knows Neil is around, so he looks for him to confirm.

"Neil and I do other things" Aaron hears Andrew's cheeky grin.

"Ew, gross."

"I wanted to give you a hug" Aaron stops squirming.

"Then can I touch you?"

"Go ahead."

Aaron puts his hand on Andrew's back, moves it up and down tentatively, and then stops.

"And why?" Aaron wants to know why Andrew would want to hold him.

"Because you like the way Nicky and Eric hugged you, because when you hugged me I felt safe, and if you feel the same way, then I'll do it for you."

Aaron leans into his brother's shoulder. To him, this doesn't feel like something Andrew would do for a deal, it feels like something Andrew would do for Neil, as his exception to the rules.

Aaron didn't really hug Andrew after the first time, but he was the one who touched Andrew, lightly, unobtrusively, reminding Andrew, who might have fallen out of reality, that he wasn't alone, they didn't have conversations, they were just there for the other. And Andrew had never flinched, he hated being touched, without warning, without permission, but with Aaron he didn't feel the same way.

Andrew, Neil, who later came into view standing next to the coach, and Wymack didn't stay long, Aaron didn't keep them away from all the greetings and conversations.

"Coach, what made you want to come here?" Andrew leans on the door of his car as Neil takes a picture of Aaron on Andrew's phone.

"I can't come to my child?" Wymack replies. "Send me his photo later."

Andrew stands up straight.

"Yes, Father" and nods like a promise, Wymack rolls his eyes at this.

"Maybe Andrew should have worn your robes, it would have been nice," Neil says as he and Aaron approach.

"Your hands are crooked, you can't do anything right," Aaron complains.

They say goodbye, promising to meet up later when Aaron finishes his internship, when he should call them to celebrate and Nicky and Eric will be coming from Germany. Andrew does indeed send photos of Aaron in his gown, with his diploma and bouquet in one hand and a pot of violets in the coach. Andrew posts one with a composed, serious Aaron on his Instagram, to which Nicky sends a crying emoji, and puts a photo of a smiling Aaron on his phone's desktop screen, with Neil on his lock screen, cuddling their two cats, the three of them sleepy and just waking up to the rays of the sun.

[bumblesimagines]

this wasn't supposed to happen.

i did a number on your back. sorry about that.

we should do that again sometime.

Fiona Gallagher

we should do that again sometime.

this wasn't supposed to happen.

i did a number on your back. sorry about that.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

As consciousness seeped into his body and his senses slowly awakened, he was hit with a few realizations that quickened the process of waking up. He couldn't hear Génesis babbling away in her crib nor the loud strays he often fed mewling for food outside. The springs in the mattress beneath him dug slightly into his skin and the smell of cheap booze and perfume lingering in the air invaded his nostrils. The mattress abruptly dipped slightly and strands of hair tickled his shoulder, startling the exhaustion fully out of his system.

The room around him was unfamiliar. The walls were covered in chipping paint, there were enough clothes on the floor to give to twenty people, random bottles of water and beer were sat about in different places, and there were odd stains on the barely visible rug. The chaos and mess of the room made his skin itch. (Y/N) exhaled quietly and tilted his head to look at the owner of the bedroom. Shit.

"I can't wait for ya'll to meet them. I swear, they are the kindest people in this whole city." (Y/N) hummed, absentmindedly listening to his cousin's girlfriend go on and on about their neighbors, the Gallagher family, as he raked his fingers through his eldest daughter's hair and detangled the small knots that had formed. Veronica held his other daughter at her hip, cooing and clicking her tongue to keep the toddler entertained whilst they made their way over to the tall house right next door. 

"V's right, (Y/N). You'll love 'em. Debs and Talia are gonna get along great." Kevin piped in and scrunched up his face at Génesis, a wide smile breaking out on his face when she burst into giggles and gleefully clapped her tiny hands together. Talia clutched her dolls close to her chest and tentatively peered up at the house when they entered through the front yard. 

"I bet Carl's going to be tripping over himself when he sees Talia." Veronica giggled and gently pinched one of Talia's reddened cheeks, listening to her boyfriend pound loudly on the front door until it swung open and a teen's freckled face greeted them. He looked between them all curiously and a fond smile appeared on his lips when he noticed the bundled-up toddler in Veronica's hands. 

"Hi, I'm Ian." He introduced himself a bit meekly and stuck out a lanky arm to shake (Y/N)'s hand before stepping back and allowing them to enter the house. The house seemed bigger with an archway connecting the living room to the kitchen and dining room. There were two staircases on opposite sides of the house leading up to the second story, nearly each step covered in toys and beer cans alike. It looked like a tornado had rampaged throughout the rooms but (Y/N) tried to contain his judgment and put on a smile for the family. Veronica had mentioned there was only a twenty-one-year-old managing all five of her younger siblings with their drunk father occasionally crashing on the couch. 

"Oh, a baby!" A little girl not much older than Talia squealed and sprang up from the couch, nearly trampling her brother in the process of reaching them and earning a swift glare. She jumped up onto her toes and smiled widely as she delicately ran her finger over the back of Génesis's hand, cooing softly and introducing herself. "Hi, baby. I'm Debbie." 

"Guys, I'd like you to meet (Y/N) and his daughters, Génesis and Talia. They're going to be stayin' with us next door for a little while so make them feel at home, alright?" Veronica called into the living room, barely drawing the other teenager and his little brother's attention away from the action movie playing on the television. She scoffed quietly and muttered under her breath before flashing the woman heading down the stairs a smile. The pretty brunette returned it and gasped softly at the sight of Génesis in her arms. 

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" She cooed warmly and chuckled sweetly at Debbie's fascination with the baby, one hand rising to comb back the hairs sticking out from Debbie's ponytail. He assumed she was Fiona Gallagher, the eldest daughter taking care of all the kids. Fiona was tall and slim, almost lanky like her brother but held a more at-ease air to herself than he did. The bags under her eyes were subtle, just barely noticeable, and her hair had been tied up into a messy ponytail that barely restrained the wavy locks. She looked up from Génesis and met his eyes. Her brows slightly lifted and her lips parted and closed, a hint of red spreading across her cheeks. 

"Nice to meet you, Fiona."

He'd promised himself before leaving Kentucky he'd stay in his lane, that he wouldn't involve himself with anyone again for a while. Talia's mother had been one thing, someone he couldn't bring himself to be resentful despite her refusal to be in their daughter's life. They'd been two naive fourteen-year-olds messing around who faced the consequences of not being more careful. Becoming involved with Génesis's mother, however, had been his fault. The lengthy criminal record and history of short relationships should've been big enough red flags to abort ship before they could be tied together permanently, but he'd ignored them and her own recklessness led to her incarceration. Two failed relationships, two motherless daughters. With his shit luck, he could only hope Fiona was on some sort of birth control.

"Fucking hell." He sighed heavily and rubbed his palm over his face, making vain attempts at ignoring the subtle throbbing in his temple. (Y/N) pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge, picking his briefs up from the floor and slipping them on. Fiona groaned quietly behind him and he peered over his shoulder at her as she rubbed her eyes and stretched out across the small bed, the mattress beneath her creaking with each movement. 

"Jesus, I did a number on your back. Sorry about that." She chuckled and tucked some of her frizzy hair behind her ear a bit sheepishly. Fiona sat up and leaned back against the wall, one arm reaching out to rummage through the nightstand until she found a cigarette pack and pulled one out. Dangling one between her fingers in his direction, she said, "We should do that again sometime."

"No, Fiona, this wasn't supposed to happen. I- I have too much on my plate right now to deal with... whatever you want this to become. I don't need the girls getting confused either. I appreciate the warm welcome into the neighborhood but... for your sake and mine, we should just stay as neighbors."

[deeppenguinstudent]

I need Jean Andrew and renee to just have a coffee date with eachother spilling about their partners.

Like just imagine Jean is visiting Palmetto and he's whisked away by Renee and Andrew follows since he would rather be dead than stick around while Kevin and Neil teach the new recruits Exy. So they arrive at a cafe and they just sit down and talk.

Renee starts up and asks Jean how's USC, he gives curt responses at first feeling awkward at Andrew's presence and both Renee and Andrew try to ignore the fading bruise and bite mark on his hand. They both are all too familiar with marks like that.

So then Jean continues; at this point Allison and Renee have just started going out so Renee gushes when he asks and she relays softly how Allison makes her feel. Then, Andrew lets out a complaint of Neil and that's when everything spirals.

Jean launches into his opinion of the USC team, tells them about laila, catalina and Jeremy. He's unsure so he asks Renee how Laila can improve at goalie; Andrew gives him a disgruntled noise at first because of exy talk but then he moves to giving him some constructive advice for her movement.

I like to imagine that Andrew makes a joke using a reference, and Jean snorts unexpectedly, and Andrew just gazes appreciating . Oh my god, someone finally got his very niche reference.

I can just imagine Jean complaining about bark bark von barkenstein and Jeremy as a whole and Renee catches Andrew's eyes because this was exactly how he used to talk about Neil back when they were sparring together.

These three would have the most random conversations . One minute, they are talking about books they prefer, and the other they are talking about Greek mythology and linking their teammates to demi gods/gods