#others are like thinking about how fucked it must have been for Charles to hear his once liked tape played in devlin house

[neitherthehoneynorthebee]

Crazy thing is that every time I've rewatched a dbd I've noticed something new, or seen a different connection, or the significance of something changed. Which is fucking good writing.

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

Warnings:  mutant!reader (no specific power mentioned, though), fem!reader, enemies to lovers, swearing,  fake dating (technically fake marriage), mentions of violence, a little bit of suggestive stuff, a little bit of fluff i guess, and mild alcohol consumption. I think that's all but if i missed any, please let me know! also this is def loosely inspired by the movies 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' and '10 Things I Hate About You'

Word Count: 5K

part 2

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ .

You hate the way he dresses.

You hate his stupid hair.

You hate the pet names he calls you.

You hate his voice.

You hate his hazel eyes.

You hate his smile.

You hate Logan Howlett.

It was no secret and neither was the fact that he couldn’t stand you either. You bickered like a married couple, constantly fought till you bled when you were training and couldn’t go a day without one of you insulting the other. Truthfully, it was probably because you were too alike - fire versus fire - and knew exactly how to press each other's buttons.

That’s why you were both confused when you stood in Charles’ office - dumbfounded expression on your faces - as he told you that he assigned you to a mission together.

“Oh, no way,” you nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah, not happening,” Logan agreed. It may have been the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

“That’s unfortunate for both of you, as I am sending you anyway. You are the only capable people that aren’t already out on an assignment or teaching a class full time.”

“How do you expect us to do it without killing each other?” you raised your eyebrows.

“You are adults. I trust you will navigate that on your own.”

Logan scoffed beside you, his arms crossed over his chest.

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and biting the bullet, “what do we have to do?”

“There is a safe hidden in the home of a very wealthy socialite who’s been involved in orchestrating attacks on mutants - injecting them with a serum that replaces their mutation gene with that of a normal human,” Charles began to explain.

Your chest felt heavy. It always made you anxious and a little ill when you’d hear the stories of people who hated you so much that they’d go as far as to harm or violate you in some way, all in the name of trying to rid the earth of you completely or turn you into one of them.

“The only known sample of the serum is locked in that safe,” he continued, “and I will need you to retrieve it. You are to infiltrate a gathering being held in her home, obtain the contents of the safe and return promptly.”

“So, we’re…going to a party?” Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

“A dinner party,” Charles replied, “and another thing - you must not attend as yourselves. You’ve been invited on the good word of another guest - someone we trust - but you’ve been invited as a married couple to avoid arousing suspicion.”

He must’ve been getting some sick enjoyment from this.

“Married couple,” you repeated, your eyes narrowed, “Us. You want us to pretend to be a couple.”

“What, do I have to like - touch her? I’m not doing that,” Logan piped up.

“Oh, i’m so disappointed,” you rolled your eyes, sarcasm clear in your voice, “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“I said it first!”

“Enough,” Charles interrupted, “you will be attending as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Huh,” Logan hummed, “that’s creative.”

“Its inconspicuous,” he replied.

“What are our first names, then?”

“You have creative liberty. I trust you will come up with something just as unremarkable.”

“How about Sid and Nancy?” you scoffed, chuckling a little in disbelief. 

“Does that mean I get to stab you?”

“You’d miss.”

Charles had his head in his hands.

“How about Jack and Jill?”

You both turned your heads to him when he spoke, pausing the back and forth between you that you were sure to continue later. You glanced at Logan and shrugged, indifferent to the names.

“That’ll work,” Logan mirrored your actions.

“Lovely. Tomorrow evening at five. I will have the address ready. In the meantime, here,” he opened his palm and placed two rings on the table, “these are your wedding bands.”

You huffed and took the smaller of the two, Logan picking up the plain silver band. Yours was simple - a false diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on each side.

“What, you couldn’t get me anything bigger?” you joked to Logan, holding up the ring. 

“Oh, you want somethin’ big?”

Your eyes went wide and you elbowed him in the arm, groaning in disgust, “Gross.”

—----------------

Five o’clock came fast, your nerves seemingly increasing the speed of time. You’d made a mess of your wardrobe looking for something to wear that was comfortable, but not too ‘you’. What would a rich person wear to a dinner party? How the hell were you supposed to know?

Some nice pants, a blouse and complimenting shoes would have to do - it was the only thing you had that looked relatively formal. Adding some jewelry made it just a little more convincing. 

You went down the stairs to meet Logan at the front door, dreading the coming hours. You turned the corner and finally saw him, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, his boots, and he’d traded his usual leather jacket for a suit jacket. He actually cleaned up pretty nice, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

He heard your footsteps and turned towards the sound. He could feel the sweat starting to form at the back of his neck. 

He’d never seen you in anything nice like that - you never really had any occasions to dress up for - and he hated how much he liked it. Your pants hugged you perfectly, your blouse was buttoned low and you even had on a little bit of makeup. 

“You don’t look too bad,” he managed to comment, opening the door for you.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you realized aloud, the both of you heading towards Logan’s truck, “You look alright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smith.”

He opened the car door for you, uncharacteristically gentlemen-like.

You shot him an odd look and got in anyway.

“I’m practicing,” He explained, shutting your door and walking around to slide into his seat, “can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m a shit husband.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh-oh,” Logan had an amused expression, his eyes glued to the road as you began moving, “that’s not wife behavior, sunshine.”

“Bite Me.”

He clicked his tongue, “Feisty. Oh - I can use that when people ask about us! I’ll say it's one of your absolute worst qualities that any man would be repulsed by, but that our love is blind.”

You scoffed, “Great, and I’ll get to tell them you spend sixteen hours brushing your hair into cat ears and shed all over the bathroom like an animal.”

“See - now, that one seems a little personal.”

“It is.”

“Just pretend for a night that I’m the man of your dreams, okay?” he asked, “pretend I’m, uh - I don’t know, some celebrity guy you have a crush on.”

You were silent for a second, engrossed in thought, “you look nothing like Hugh Jackman.”

“Who? You know what - sure, pretend I'm him, alright? Just squint.”

Truthfully - and you’d rather be stabbed than admit it - Logan wasn’t far off from who you could picture yourself with. Strong, kind of handsome, good with kids. He was humble, most of the time. He was just terribly annoying and way too cocky.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting the truck into park and yanking the keys from the ignition. You let him open your door and walked beside him up the front steps.

“You ready, Jack?” you teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill.”

He rang the doorbell and you stood awkwardly, eyes scanning your surroundings. The house was huge - probably only a bit smaller than the mansion - and modern, something probably built in the last ten years. The front lawn was impeccable, as were the marble statues strategically placed between foliage and flora. 

The door opened and you inhaled sharply, trying to prepare yourself to lie your ass off.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith! So lovely to meet you, please - come in,” a woman ushered you in, her neck and ears decorated in pearls. You recognized her immediately, Charles having shown you both a picture of the hostess beforehand. You politely greeted her and introduced yourselves, already scanning the room for an emergency exit in case things went sour.

“So,” she continued talking, leading you to sit in the living room with the other mingling guests,”tell me a little about yourselves! John wasn’t very descriptive when he mentioned you. What do you do for work?”

Whoever John was, you silently thanked him.

“Uh, well,” you began, nervously glancing at Logan, “I’m a bank teller.”

Plain, boring, inconspicuous, 

She then looked to Logan expectantly, awaiting his answer. 

“Cage fighter.”

Jesus Christ. You were glaring daggers into the side of his smiling face and he pretended not to notice.

“Really?” the woman in front of you inquired, a hand on her chest. You watched her eyes scan him up and down, landing on the pecs prominent through his shirt. You scoffed out of instinct, faking a cough to cover it up.

‘Oh, yeah. Undefeated MMA champ.”

You looked away to hide the scowl on your face when your eyes locked on the vodka bottle sitting on the table a few feet away with a collection of other booze. Bingo.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” you smiled politely and walked away before Logan could protest, leaving him to his own devices.

You twisted the top off the bottle and picked up a glass, filling it with Vodka and some soda that was left on the table.You almost walked away with it, planning to keep it in your hands until you felt your nerves subside, until you remembered you were supposed to be a wife. Wives brought their husbands drinks, right? Not doing so would look rude and rude might blow your cover. So, you reluctantly picked up another glass and filled it partially with whiskey, knowing it was something he’d drink. You happened to glance across to the kitchen and notice a neat little rack of spices and condiments on the counter. A bottle of soy sauce was front and center, like a message from the universe, and you giggled to yourself as you snatched the bottle and hid it up your sleeve - this could be a good night if you made it entertaining.

You returned to Logan with both glasses, handing him the one filled with significantly darker liquid. He looked a little surprised but accepted it anyway.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with narrowed eyes, a look that asked ‘what are you up to now?’

You simply nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the hostess still standing in front of you.

“She’s a keeper,” he continued, holding the glass up to his mouth, “ always knows exactly what I like.”

You bit back a snicker as you watched him tilt the glass and finally take a sip.

His eyes went to yours immediately.  He pulled the glass from his lips, mouth still obviously full of whiskey and soy sauce. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead.

“Good, honey?” you smiled wide then, taking a sip of your own drink. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly fighting a grimace. He swallowed and nearly gagged, coughing into his fist, “mhm, just a little strong.”

“Oh,” the hostess began, “Jack was just about to tell us how you met!”

A couple of guests had gathered in the same spot, all lingering in a semicircle. Logan was quite the charmer and it wasn’t a surprise that he already had a couple of women gawking at him, hanging on his every word as if any of it was true. 

“Was he?” your tone was shrill but you attempted to appear playful, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Oh, honey, you should really let me tell it.”

Whatever he was about to come up with, you hoped it was not in the same outlandish category as cage fighting. Before you could begin, though, he dismissively waved his hand in your direction.

“No, no - you’re a little forgetful, sweetheart,” his grin was mischievous as he turned to speak to the surrounding guests, “so, it all started with a tshirt competition at a bar where the girls had to - “

“Nope! Nope,” you interjected, doing your best to keep your tone light and shaking your head, “haha - that must have been another girl, honey!”

That earned a few chuckles from the guests around you and you took the opportunity while everyone's attention was on you to try and spin a tale of your own.

“So, we actually met a couple years ago,” you started, mulling over what true details to sprinkle in or if you should make it up entirely, “uh - in a library.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. You’d been at the mansion for a couple days before you bumped into him in the library while gathering books to try and put together your first lesson plan. You had a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other - admittedly stupid - but you’d always been careful. Except for that once. 

You had a book open in your arms, resting atop the stack you already gathered. You were walking and reading - again, admittedly not very smart - when you bumped into someone, spilling coffee on both of you and sending the stack of books to the floor with an audible thump. 

“Fuck, sorry -” you began to apologize, finally looking up to the strangers face. It was Logan, of course, though you didn’t know that at the time. You remember thinking he was handsome with his scruffy mutton chops and well groomed hair - until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You knew it was partially your fault but were irked by his attitude.

“Dude, you weren’t paying attention either, obviously!” you snapped back, looking down at the beige stain now adorning your white button up.

“I’m not the one who carries coffee and a shit ton of books at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

That was your grand introduction, neither of you even exchanging names.

Logan remembered it about the same way you did, though the version he tells is a little different. He loved to tell people that when you bumped into him, it was because you were so lovestruck that you just walked right into him. The part he always left out, though, was the first thing he thought when he saw you. He’d scolded you before even looking up to see who you were and when he had, he wished he’d reacted a little differently. 

You were beautiful, even with coffee spilt all over yourself. You looked like a girl he’d only ever dreamed of, all the way down to the color of your hair and eyes. Unfortunately, he’d already been an asshole. So, from then on, that was basically your shtick - bickering over little things, calling each other names - all to the amusement of everyone around you. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but it was obvious to everyone else that the kind of teasing you did was only because you had feelings for one another - like two elementary school kids - and neither one of you seemed to know how to approach it. The mask would slip sometimes for either one of you - when he’d place a hand on your lower back, the times he’d managed to pin you to the mat during training - and you’d always find yourself staring at the ceiling that night, overthinking every interaction you’d had until the sun came up. He was never any better off, pacing in his room to try and decipher what the hell it was he actually felt for you.

Anyway, you decided to stick to the real story, minus the part where you insulted each other.

“We bumped into each other, literally, and I had coffee and a bunch of books in my arms. So, I drop the books, coffee spills everywhere - of course. Then I looked up at him, and..” you paused, the truth caught in a lump in your throat.

“And it was love at first sight,” Logan added, grinning down at you, “for both of us.”

His eyes were trained on yours and he continued to contribute to the story.

“The second I saw her, I fell in love.”

He was still looking at you. Why was he still looking at you like that? You were supposed to be husband and wife, right, but he was leaning into it far heavier than you expected. It felt like you were the only ones in the room.

A couple ‘aw’s were shared between guests and you smiled politely at the reminder that you were in fact not the only people in the room. As the conversation switched to another topic and someone else began to speak, you felt Logan’s hand at the back of your head, gently playing with your hair. Your face was pink - he was being too nice.

A short while later, you were sitting on the couch beside him, listening to someone’s drawn out story that you stopped paying attention to after six minutes.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Logan uttered unceremoniously and stood from the couch. He disappeared into the house and not even a minute later, another guy came to sit in his spot.

“Hey,” he put his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You looked at the fingers grazing your shoulder and sat forward to shrug them off, “nope.”

He told you his name and you couldn’t have cared any less, deciding to actually tune back into the story being told rather than converse with him. He was alright looking, but his approach was far too off putting. 

“So, did you come alone?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, opening your mouth to answer before he cut you off.

“Cause It looks like it, and I can’t stand to see a pretty girl alone.”

You groaned in disgust, hoping if you were dry enough in your answers, he’d leave you be.

“mhm.”

It wasn’t really an answer to anything, just a noise of affirmation. You hoped he’d get the hint then, but of course, he didn’t. In what would probably be the stupidest thing he’d done that night, the guy moved his arm from the back of the couch so he could squeeze your thigh. Right as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you saw a hand grip his shoulder from behind. Logan was leaning over the sofa, bringing his face a little lower so he wouldn’t cause a scene, his dog tags hanging when he leaned forward. He had a death grip on the guy's shoulder while he used his other hand to steady himself against the sofa. 

“Hey, bub.”

The guy looked a little terrified, to say the least, but Logan didn’t let up there.

“Do you always go around hittin’ on people’s wives? Or is it just mine?”

His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run but that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in his grip. 

“I-I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know she - “ the guy sputtered, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“Mhm. Hey, tell you what - why don’t you leave my girl alone and maybe I’ll give you a five minute head start to get the fuck out of here.”

He let go of his shoulder and that was enough to drive him away, the guy scurrying to his feet and finding somewhere else to mingle.

You didn’t know why you found yourself smiling the moment he’d said ‘my girl’. You rid yourself of it with a shake of your head, reminding yourself you were there to do a job.

“Hey,” Logan leaned himself down even further so he could whisper, “I gotta show you something, c’mere.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him but got up to follow. He stopped in the hallway in front of the bathroom, looked around to see if anyone would notice you, and promptly dragged you in with him before closing and locking the door. He hit the light switch and you looked around.

“Do you always take girls to the bathroom on first dates?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“You’d have to go out with me to find out,” he remarked, “besides, it’s not like that. Look.”

You watched him get low to the ground to open the cupboard under the sink and you crouched with him, following his pointing finger to the wood paneling in the back. It looked like a fake back - a board that appeared to be the back of the cabinet but definitely had something behind it. There was a sliver of metal visible behind it when you shined your phone’s flashlight.

“I figured we should look everywhere, so while I was in here I was checking it out - saw that. You think that’s it?”

“Could be,” you answered honestly, “that, or it’s some sort of electrical box we’re about to rip out of the wall. It’s an odd hiding spot for a safe.”

“Not really. Think about it - where's the first place you’d look for a safe?”

“Bedroom or office, maybe.”

“Right, and where's one of the last places you’d check?” he gestured to the open cabinet.

“Under…the sink,” you realized aloud, looking between him and the wooden board. 

“Exactly,” he nodded, swiping the contents of the cabinet onto the floor to gain access, “here’s the thing, though - I’m too big to get in there.”

He could maybe stick his head in, but in order to duck under the pipes from the sink, he’d need to have shoulders that were much less broad.

You sighed, knowing what that meant.

“Alright, alright - move. This better be it.”

You reluctantly crawled under the sink and into the cabinet on your hands and knees. You yanked the wooden board with all your strength and it came free, revealing a metal safe.

“Got it! You were right, it’s the safe.”

Logan simply hummed in response, clearing his throat. You figured he’d be a little more enthusiastic. 

Truthfully, he was too busy staring at your ass in the nice pants you were wearing to pay attention. When he heard your voice, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts he was having about you so he could think of a response. He’d always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you all dressed up drove him a little crazy.

“Yeah? Is it locked?”

You inspected the metal box, holding the absurdly large padlock hooked around the latch that opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Padlock - we’re gonna need the numbers.”

“No, we don’t. Bring it out.”

You did as you were told, crawling back out with the safe under your arm and placing it on the bathroom rug. It was a pretty small one - probably a little bigger than a basketball.

Logan picked it up and set it on the counter beside the sink. He unsheathed a claw and sliced through the metal latch that held the door closed in one swift motion.

“Well, yeah - that's one way to do it,” you shrugged.

“Easiest way to do it.”

He reached in and took out the small glass vial. He put it inside the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What if it falls out?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Alright, kid,” he sighed, “what do you want me to do with it? ‘Cause i’m sure as hell not lettin’ you carry it.”

You rolled your eyes and looked him over.

“How about you wrap it in your jacket, like cushioning?”

“Fine.”

He reluctantly shrugged off his jacket, keeping the vial in the pocket but folding the jacket into a ball. You hastily replaced everything in the cabinet, safe included, and you followed Logan as he opened the door to step out - only to be met with another guest, her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Dear,” she chuckled, clearly a little startled. She looked to the both of you, a grin appearing on her face, “Young love, what a gift. Don’t worry, I didn't see a thing!”

You shot her a confused look, chuckling nervously before you happened to catch a glance of your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Your hair was mussed and your blouse was untucked on one side from having to bend up and down. Logan had taken off his suit jacket and you realized what it was she was implying.

“Oh, oh - we weren’t -”

“It’s alright, honey,” she responded as you stepped out, “like I said - my lips are sealed.”

She shot you both a wink, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“She thought we were fucking in there,” you mumbled, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“Is that so bad?”

You snapped your head towards him, a confused look on your face, “what?”

Logan shrugged, “we're supposed to be husband and wife, aren't we?”

You shook your head in disbelief and decided to ignore him, both of you joining the other guests back in the living room. Dinner was finally ready and everyone took their seats in the dining room. There were a couple of things on the table you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Is that…meat? A vegetable?” you leaned over to logan, whispering behind your hand and nodding towards one of the dishes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, “I don’t think I wanna find out.”

You both piled on the few things onto your plates, poking at it with your forks.

“Do you wanna get a pizza after this?” you whispered.

“Definitely,” he replied, pushing around an unrecognizable sludge with his utensil.

“So, how long did you two say you’ve been together?” You both looked up, only to be met with the hostess’ stare. You had never mentioned how long you’d been ‘together’. Her smile was polite but her stare was piercing, as if she knew something she was not supposed to.

“About three years,” you replied, looking to him for back up.

“We got married a couple months in,” he added, grinning at you. Again, he had that look - like he wasn’t just pretending to be in love with you. 

“We were in this restaurant - this little place we go to all the time,” he kept talking, “and I just told her I thought she was beautiful, that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.”

“Really? I have to say,” she began, sipping from her glass,” for a young couple who got together so quickly, you two don’t seem very affectionate towards each other.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shot Logan a panicked look, but he appeared unbothered.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue,” it’s this rule she’s got about PDA. I’d be all over her if I could.”

You hated the way your face became hot. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning into it to be convincing or flirting just to make you flustered. You heard a muffled snicker from somewhere across the table and your eyes shifted to the source - it was the woman from earlier, the one who’d thought you and Logan were getting busy in the bathroom. 

“Can I at least get a kiss, babe?” Logan cooed, a smug look on his face.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Being a husband,” he replied in a hush voice. 

It all happened within seconds. His hands cupped your face, warm and soft, and he leaned in to plant a kiss right on your lips. It was gentle and you melted into his touch, kissing him back. When he pulled away, you were still stunned, your lips parted in surprise. 

Logan kissed you.

His lips tasted like the remnants of cigar smoke. His touch was nearly intoxicating, like you were drunk off just the way he held you. You inhaled sharply and finally turned your face out of his grip, eyes glued to the table cloth. You had almost forgotten where you were - feeling like the room was spinning - and you let out a nervous laugh.

The topic of discussion moved on quickly and it seemed like any suspicion the hostess had about either of you had dissipated. You and Logan decided to say your goodbyes immediately after dinner, making some excuse about having to wake up early the next morning. When you stepped out and he shut the door behind him, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“What the hell was that?” you spat, eyebrows knitted. 

“What was what?”

He was completely nonchalant as he continued to walk next to you towards his truck. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stopped with you at the passenger side of the truck, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t get in.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed hard. It was dead silent outside, save for the chirping of crickets.

“What?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, chewing his bottom lip, “I wanted to kiss you.”

You didn't know what to say. He hated you, didn’t he?

“Logan, I - “

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in there, pretending to be together.”

His voice almost sounded strained, like he was pleading.

“You don’t even like me, you hate me,” you deflected, but he shook his head.

“That’s not true. I never hated you. I figured you’d hate me after I acted like an asshole when we met, so I went with it. I don’t hate you. I think you’re funny, I think you’re pretty - I just never really knew how to tell you that.”

When you only stared in response, he moved aside and opened your door with a defeated sigh. You were still speechless but you hesitantly slid into the seat anyway, letting him close the door. When he got into the driver's side and started the ignition, you couldn’t stop looking over at him.

“So, you like me,” you finally said aloud.

He kept his eyes glued to the road when he responded in a low voice, “why do you think I bother you so much?”

“You pick on me because you like me? Like a little kid?” you couldn’t help the amusement in your voice as your confused expression turned to a smile.

You saw him bite back a smile that mirrored yours, shaking his head.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, you’re not too bad, you know, and I guess you’re kind of handsome.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, but don’t make me take it back.”

The rest of the short ride home was spent in comfortable silence, both of you seemingly trying to figure out where you’d go from there. When Logan parked his truck and got out, he came around your side to open your door. You hopped out and he shut the door for you, but grabbed your hand before you started to walk away.

“Hey, c’mere for a second.”

You let him pull you a little closer, intertwining both your hands. The evening air was chilly and you could see his breath in the air when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you, for real this time?”

You could feel your heart beating fast and you nodded eagerly. The second you did, his lips were already on yours. His hands let go of yours to settle in your hair, threading the strands between his fingers. His touch felt warm in comparison to the cold air and you leaned further into him with your hands gripping his jacket to pull him close. When he pulled away, he rested his hands on your waist and planted another kiss on your forehead. 

“Maybe we could, uh, try again,” he cleared his throat, running his hands up and down your sides, “be nice to each other this time.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t hate Logan, even though you tried. 

You couldn’t hate his perfect hair.

You couldn’t hate his sweet voice.

You couldn’t hate his kind smile.

You couldn’t hate the way he dressed.

You just couldn’t hate Logan Howlett. 

So, you kissed him again, smiling against his lips and letting him hold you as close as possible, almost lifting you off the ground with his arms around you.

“We should probably go inside, huh?” you mumbled when you leaned back, lightly scratching the mutton chops on the side of his face in an affectionate manner. Those were another thing you’d pretended to hate - probably because you were embarrassed to admit you thought he pulled them off well.

“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”

He held his hand out for you to take and you did, eyeing the ring on your finger.

“You know,” you held up your hand to show him the jewelry, “I think i’ll keep this.”

He grinned, bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss, “I think i'll keep mine, too.”

You were both still holding hands when you went inside, blushing like two little kids. You were so engrossed in one another that you didn’t notice Jean and Ororo in the hallway ahead of you as he leaned down to kiss you again. Now that he knew he could actually do it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll take it your night went well,” Ororo giggled, Jean doing the same. You jumped a little in surprise, covering your pink face in mild embarrassment. 

“What changed? I thought you hated each other,” the latter of the two asked.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders.

‘’Turns out, we make a pretty good fake husband and wife,” he explained, “I guess we got a little too carried away with it.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand further down the hall, Ororo elbowed Jean lightly, leaning over to whisper behind her hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you sm for reading!! I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this as is or add smut so I'll leave it how it is and if enough people ask for it, I can make a part two <3 pls reblog and like if you enjoyed/want more and my inbox is always open :)

Edit: here is the link to part 2!

[f1fantasys]

uh this is so random idk if you would write this but i have an idea so you are Lando’s roommate. one day you came home early and you heard a girl moaning from his room and immediately feel jealous but you tried to brush it off. then as the voice is getting more intense eventually you lean beside his door and can’t help to start touching yourself. you didn’t realized that you moaned too loud that makes Lando opened the door. he is shocked ofc but then start teasing you until you pushed him away because you respect his girlfriend. and it turns out… he just watching videos so no girlfriend or anything. later he decided to help you and even makes you squirt then ended up fucking you against the wall

Hi anon, i love this! Hope you enjoy.

Caught

Warnings - heavy smut, porn, kissing, p in v sex, oral f! receiving, fingering, swearing, squirting.

You moved to Monaco a few weeks ago, being a Sky presenter, meaning you always had things to film and create with drivers and teams, so naturally, it made sense to live closer to everyones' base.

You had an amazing relationship with all the drivers, and were close to a few of them as well. Of course there had to be one, who'd caught your eyes on the first day of work 3 years ago.

Lando.

You wouldn't particularly say you were as close with him as you were with Charles and Carlos, but whenever you were together there was an undeniable sexual tension. Though you both would always brush it off and act like nothing was wrong.

Things were pretty normal between the pair of you until you'd arrived in Monaco, with your landlord telling you the apartment you were supposed to rent wasn't available anymore.

Long story short, Lando offered you a place to stay for as long as you needed, and you don't know how, or why, but you accepted.

So here you were two weeks later, coming home at an ungodly hour because your meeting at work ran over.

Lando's probably sleeping, you thought to yourself as it was already 12.35am when you checked the time, choosing not to make something to eat in fear of disturbing him at this time of the night.

As you walked quietly to your room, which was next to his, you heard something which froze your body still.

At first you thought your ears were deceiving you. It surely couldn't have been.

But as you willed your body to walk closer to Lando's room, you were done for.

It was moaning. Loud, sexy, goosebumps-raising moaning. There was a girl, and a guy, whom could have only been Lando.

To be honest, you had thought he'd bring random girls home much sooner than today. But still, the thought of him literally fucking a girl on the other side of the wall had your body quivering. In shock and need.

You knew you should retreat to your room, put your headphones on, and block out all of the noise. But once again, your body deceived you, wetness already pooling at your core.

You could hear them both panting through harsh breaths, moaning as if their life depended on it, and swearing as though they didn't care if the neighbors heard them, let alone you.

Somewhere at the back of your heart, it hurt, to think it was Lando with another girl, not you, but in the moment, all you could think about was how his naked body would slide against yours. You imagined his girth to be thick and long, just big enough to fit perfectly, having your walls clench around him as he moved in and out of you. You thought about how it would feel to have his lips on yours, roughly kissing you while slipping his tongue into your mouth, and about how he would pinch your nipples between his fingers before sucking on him, having you a moaning mess underneath him.

Without really realizing what you were doing, you found your hand slide into your joggers and slip past your panties, running your fingers through your folds as you collected you wet and sticky juices.

The noises coming from Lando's room were obscene to say the least. Man must know what he's doing, you thought, as you imagined it was his fingers that were dancing on your folds.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your own moans as you pushed two fingers through your core, shutting your eyes, mind trained on listening to your surroundings.

You could hear from the girls' whimpers that she was close, saying incoherent words through gritted teeth, and when she finally hit her high, Lando must have emptied himself in her by the sounds he was making, moaning into the oblivion.

Lando's moan alone had sent you spiraling, gushing cum all over your fingers as you let out your own soft whimpers and moans, not realizing that you were actually louder than you thought.

And just as your mind caught up with just how loud you were, Lando's room door suddenly flew open, the both of you staring at each other in shock.

He was stood there wearing nothing but his boxers, hair disheveled and cheek flushed.

You quickly removed your hand form your joggers, holding both your arms behind your back as if you were hiding something, as you looked at him not knowing how to get yourself out of this situation. You wanted the ground to swallow you up.

You didn't miss how Lando's eyes darkened when you did that, and with the way your body was still riding down from the high, you held in soft quivers, opening your mouth a few times to say something though nothing came out.

''I-I, um, I-'' you started but Lando cut you off.

''What are you doing?'' he asked, not sounding one but annoyed or confrontational, but rather teasingly.

You gulped, 'nothing'' you lied, knowing your face would give you away with how hot your cheeks felt.

He smirked, let out a small chuckle. ''Enjoyed that, didn't you?'' he teased again.

''I-, fuck, I didn't mean to eavesdrop'' you mumbled shyly.

He didn't say anything back, just nodded his head with a full on boyish grin.

''I'm gonna go, let you get back to your girl'' you softly said, turning to the direction of your room.

''My-, what? My what?'' Lando asked, clear confusion on his face.

You raised your brow. ''I'll let you get back to your girl'' you said, pointing in the direction of his room, quickly hiding your hand again because your fingers were still glistening with your cum.

Finally it clicked in him. Did you really think he had a girl in there? he thought to himself. And fuck, seeing your wet fingers had him growing hard.

He chuckled again, smirking, before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his room, shutting the door behind you and placing his hands on both sides of your face, staring into your soul.

You both stayed silent, searching each others face until soft moans filled your ears again. Your eyes grew with shock when you looked past Lando and saw his laptop on the bed, facing you, with two people fucking each other taking up the screen.

Suddenly it dawned on you. He was watching porn, not fucking anyone.

You took a deep breath again when you looked back at Lando. His gaze stern and determined. And then he did the unimaginable. He took you hand in his and brought your fingers up to his mouth, taking them in and sucking harshly on them, swallowing all your juices.

All you could do was watch with your mouth agape, pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him down there.

''It wasn't me babygirl. But it can be if you want it to'' he whispered.

Your breath hitched as his hands landed on your waist and started roaming your body. Instinctively, you wrapped your hands around his neck, and in no time he leaned down to crash his lips to yours.

It was a feverish kiss. Hard and deep but so natural as if you'd kissed a thousand times before. Your mind went back to a few minutes ago to when you were standing outside his closed door, imagining what his lips felt like, and now you could confirm it was a hundred times better, a hundred times sexier, as he slid his tongue into your mouth and memorized every inch of it.

Your hands ran through his hair multiple times before lowering down to roam his back and taunt core muscles, instantly feeling your self aroused again at how hard his muscles were to the touch. It was something you found extremely sexy.

As Lando's own hands continued to dance around your body, he let one slip through your joggers, landing instantly on your core which had you jumping in his hold.

''Gonna take care of you baby'' he said before leaving wet kisses along your neck as his calloused fingers twirled their way through your slick folds.

You moaned out as he began to nip and bite at your neck, no coherent words forming in your mind. All you knew was how good he felt.

''So wet for me, yeah?'' he asked.

''Uh huh'' you replied, shutting your eyes as he let a finger push through you entrance.

You held your breath as he pumped it in and out with ease because of how wet you were.

''Fucking hell, you're so tight'' he said through gritted teeth, using his other hand to get past your tshirt and massage your boobs.

''Been a while'' you said, though immediately regretted it because he did not need to know that.

Suddenly he pulled back and looked at you. ''No'' he states.

''Yes'' you say back.

''How long?''

Does it matter? you thought to yourself.

''I don't know, like 3 month'' you said, not knowing how he would respond.

''Fuck'' he said, before sending you a wink.

''Gonna destroy you'' he said, mumbling it more to himself.

He quickly pulled your tshirt off of you before ripping your bra off, licking his lips at the sight of your perky boobs, nipples already stiff from the cool air.

He took way too long staring at them, and only when you whined did he snap out of his trance and sink down on on his knees, pulling your joggers down at the same time.

You mentally thanked yourself for shaving this morning as you looked down to see Lando licking his lips, before leaning down and licking a strip up your cunt.

You instinctively tried to close you legs around his head through he held them open with his strong hands, and you could do nothing but let your own hands latch onto his precious hair and pull it at.

He was devouring your pussy. Licking, sucking, soothing, nipping, doing everything possible to make you feel every emotion.

''Fuck Lando'' you hissed as he quickly found your clit, biting at it harshly before pulling back and blowing some cool air on it.

He returned his fingers and slid two in, hitching your breath in the process as he let his mouth back on as well, showing you no mercy with a relentless pace.

All you could do was let out a series of moans and bated breaths as you held onto him for dear life, feeling the warmth build up in your stomach.

''Gonna cum Lan'' you said.

He pulled back for a second, ''let me taste you again'' he said, before returning to his activities.

In no time your body was shuddering above hi, your orgasm letting you reach the best high as you gushed your fluids all over his face and fingers.

Lando groaned to himself when he go the first taste of you. Warm and milky with a salty aftertaste that had him grow extremely hard with the mix of hearing and feeling you.

He finally pulled back for a few seconds, letting your body calm down.

He looked at you with soft eyes. ''So fucking delicious baby'' he murmured.

Before you could even respond he was spreading your legs apart again, as far as he could as he ran his tongue through your fold again. Then he used to fingers to pry your pussy open, leaning forward and thrusting his tongue in and out of your core.

Once again you pulled at his hair, body like jelly though he was strong enough to hold you in position as his tongue did wonders to you.

''Hmm, not gonna last long, fuck, Lando please'' you begged.

Suddenly his tongue was being replaced with his fingers again, three this time, which stretched you out, making you gasp for air.

You could feel your next orgasm building up, and just when Lando curled his fingers to hit your g-spot, your body was in a state of bliss. You didn't even know that your cunt was squirting out juices, drenching Lando's face as he smiled wickedly at the mess he's made of you.

''I-fuck Lando!'' you all but screamed, watching as he started licking at every place you gushed over.

You tried to get out of his hold so you could bolt to you room, so embarrassed that you made such a mess on him. ''Lando, let me -I''m so sorry, fuck'' you mumbled.

But he stopped you in your tracks.

''Don't. That was so fucking amazing, fuck I''m so hard'' he said, quickly standing up again and roughly pulling you into a heated kiss, while still holding your body up. You were sure you'd be on the floor by now if he wasn't.

As his face was pressed your yours you could feel the slickness and stickiness rubbing off on to you as he continued to roughly make out with you, sucking on your tongue, probably drawing blood with how intense it was.

When Lando' hands reached down and massaged your ass, giving you a few gentle slaps, you snaked your own hand down and slipped through his joggers, taking his achingly thick girth and pumping him a few times.

When you felt how big he was, you were internally screaming. How the hell is he gonna fit, you thought.

He must have sensed your hesitation because without realizing, your movements with your hands and mouth were faltering.

''Gonna be ok baby, we'll make it work'' he said, pulling back and giving you reassuring eyes.

You just nodded your head and pulled him flush against you again, working on removing his boxers completely.

Once that was done, Lando took himself in his hands and raan his angry dick through your folds multiple times before groaning and pulling back.

''Shit'' he said.

You gave him a confused look, suddenly feeling exposed because why else would he pull away if this was something he didn't want?

''Don't have a fucking condom'' he sighed.

You let out a breath and chuckled. ''Top right drawer of my dresser'' you said confidently.

Lando was quick to shoot out of his room and not a minute later he was walking back in, pumping himself as he ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth before sliding it on himself. It was tight, anyone would be able to see that with how bigger than average he was. But for now, it would do the job, hopefully.

You watched on in anticipation, really took you time to gawk him up and down and you couldn't help but feel the blood rushing down to your core. He was so fucking hot, and right now you wanted him to ruin you. Use you as he pleased, because god you were putty in his hands right now.

Once he was done putting the condom on, he looked at you and gave you a cheeky smile, as if he was proud of his efforts.

That lasted all but a few seconds because the smile was quickly replaced by a dark lust in his eyes.

As eager as you were to finally have him in ways you'd only dreamed about until now, there was still a part of you that was nervous as hell because, one, he was thick, very thick, and two, this would change everything, and you only hoped it would be for the better.

Lando cupped your face again and gave your forehead a quick peck, as if he could see the wheels turning in your mind.

''Baby'' he whispered, as he lined his dick up at your entrance.

You nodded, and he let himself slide in, all the way in with a single thrust.

You held your breath and shut your eyes, nails digging into his biceps as Lando left little pecks all over your shoulders.

The stretch was blood sore, but as he pulled out and thrust back in again, the pleasure started to take over the pain.

He was going slow, allowing your body to get used to the intrusion as he hiked one of your legs up to his hip and held it in place.

He continued at a slow pace for a few more thrusts before you told him it was okay to go faster.

Now, Lando was relentless, fucking into you continuously as all you did was bite you lower lip as hard as you good, whimpers and broken breaths leaving your mouth.

Lando himself was letting out moans, praising you through gritted teeth.

''Fuck y/n, so fucking tight but taking me so well. Shit. Never felt this good before. Fuck me you're incredible''

You won't lie. Hearing his praise you like that was turning you on even more, though it seemed impossible at this point. But just listening to his hoarse voice had your body trembling in his arms.

''Lando, gonna cum. Fuck'' you breathed out, moans getting louder by the second as he was burying himself deep inside of you.

''Do it'' he mumbled as he caught your left nipple between his teeth and bit down harshly at it.

''Fuck too much'' you squealed. You could feel him smile against you as he soothed his tongue over and blew on it to relieve it.

Lando snaked his hand down to your clit, he had barely touched it and you felt your orgasm over come you, your body shaking violently in his arms as you gushed warm sticky juice all over his cock, having him groaning at ''how fucking sexy'' you are.

He gave you no time to come down from you high, immediately pulling out and turning your body around so your back was to him.

You just about fumbled as you quickly reached your hand down and pulled the condom off, desperate to feel him. His eyes grew wide but all you did was send him a wink as you heard him mutter a few swear words to himself.

You grabbed his dick again and positioned it against you again, before Lando rammed himself into you, the new position having him go even deeper than he was before, making it feel a thousand times better without the condom.

''Fuck me, Lando, fuck'' you moaned, probably the most pornographic noises you'd ever made before.

''I am fucking you baby. And you're taking me so well. Never felt so fucking good before'' he said, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

The pace was raw, unfiltered, as if you were both starved of each other. Lando's hands were surely leaving purple marks on your hips how hard he was pressing down on you, and his cock was surely bruising your insides as he relentlessly thrust in and out of you until you were a moaning mess again, body shuddering in the wake of another orgasm ripping through you.

''Fuck, i'm gonna cum. Where?'' he impatiently asked.

''In me, fuck, please'' you begged.

Within seconds Lando emptied his milky load into you, ropes of it already leaking out and down your thigh as he slowly decreased his pace to ride you both through, both your bodies shaking and overstimulated, high of adrenaline.

Lando leaned forward onto you, squeezing you between his body and the door as your mind tried to catch up to what just happened.

His head was in your neck, and you could feel his curls sticky with sweat as his cool breath left goosebumps on your skin due to the chill of your own sweat.

Neither of you said anything for a while, just basking in each others bodies as you tried to catch your breath.

You could feel Lando softening inside of you as he started leaving wet kisses along your shoulders and back.

His hand found yours, and you both hissed as he slowly pulled out, turning your body back to face him.

He gave you a sheepish smile, cheeks flushed as you bit down on your bottom lip, not knowing what was gonna come next.

Lando tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he leaned forward to kiss you gently.

''You're so fucking amazing y/n, and I've waited way too fucking long to do this''

''We...waited too long to that'' you said, emphasizing on the ''we''

Suddenly you saw Lando getting to his knees again, and as much as you couldn't wait fro more from him, you were fucking sore.

''Lan, too much'' you whispered, latching onto his hair.

''I know'' he said softly as he let his tongue run through your folds, collecting the mixture of cum before he got back up and pryed your mouth open.

You held your breath as he let the cum drip from his mouth down to yours before giving you a feverish, toe curling kiss, the both of you moaning at the taste of each other.

A few minutes later, and Lando, being the gentleman he is, cleaned you up and pulled you into his bed, your body curling at his side.

''So...goes without saying, but be my girlfriend? I mean, you're already living with me..and I've already made you squirt'' he smirked

You felt your cheeks flush, ''Ug Lando!'' you couldn't help but try to hide your face until he pulled your body to lay on top of his.

''And it was the hottest thing I've ever seen'' he said, smiling genuinely.

''Yes'' you said softly.

''Yeah?'' he asked, eyes growing wide and full of excitement.

''Yeah'' you said, leaning down to kiss him for the hundredth time today, feeling his hands on your ass giving you a few playful smacks.

Hope y’all enjoyed this! Please do leave comments and remember requests are always open xx

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (20/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's one person that you don't want to see standing in front of your door in the middle of the night.

Warnings: angst (like, a lot), super many swear words, asshole!Charles, a teeny tiny bit of fluff, Raphael

Word Count: 3.7k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: couldn't let you wait another week after that cliffhanger. thank you to everyone who's been with me from the start. couldn't have done it without you. here's to 20 chapters and so much more to come.

It only takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light and you recognize who is standing in front of your apartment door. The hair, the eyes, the mouth, and as soon as you recognize the face of the person who hurt you, you push against the door with all your strength to slam it shut. 

But Raphael is quicker and shoves his foot in between. "I just want to talk."

You briefly consider kicking his shoe and kicking him out of the door frame. Something that would certainly hurt a lot barefoot. But you can't take a step back to slip into your shoes either, because Raphael would see that as an invitation. So you stand there rooted to the spot, your fingers clasped around the door handle and your shoulder leaning against the door so that at least some counterbalance keeps him from entering the apartment.

"Please, Y/N."

"What about my previous behavior makes it seem like I'm in any way interested in having a conversation with you?" you hiss hostilely in a hushed voice. After all, the neighbors don't need to hear what's going on in the hallway in the middle of the night.

He raises his hands placatingly. "I know you want to sort this out between us as much as I do."

"I want you to leave me the hell alone." You lean against the door a little more so there's more pressure on the sides of his foot, forcing him to pull it out sooner or later.

"This can't really be what you want. Please, Y/N." He tilts his head. "We both know how much you miss me. And how much you need me."

You have to stifle your laughter, even though there's nothing at all funny about this situation. "I'm not the person who keeps calling my ex and suddenly turns up at the door in the middle of the night."

"I just want to explain myself. And that everything is like it used to be."

"Then you shouldn't have been fucking other women." Your tone is icy. "Why can't you just leave me alone and get out of my life?"

Raphael crosses his arms in front of his chest as if he's offended that you're seriously asking him that. "Because I love you. So let me in, please."

You narrow your eyes. "Not a chance."

His gaze, which looked halfway human a moment ago, hardens. "Is he here? Is he listening to us right now?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Don't play dumber than you are. I'm talking about your fucking roommate I spoke to on the phone the other day." He puts a palm against the door and you feel his weight pressing against you. "Is he here?"

By now you're bracing yourself against the door with all your weight. Your heart is hammering in your chest. Raphael is not someone who would hurt anyone else. But his cold stare and the pressure against the door make you think otherwise. Must make you think something else to protect yourself. If he manages to walk through that door - thank God Charles is in Italy.

"This is none of your business," you try to say as normally as possible. 

"If some random guy is fucking my girlfriend, then it is definitely my business."

"I'm not your girlfriend, remember? You cheated on me and dumped me." You take a deep breath to get rid of the tremor in your voice. "So just leave me alone. I don't want anything more to do with you."

Raphael laughs. "I didn't cheat on you." When you raise an eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "My God, so I slept with a few women, so what? I had needs. And you didn't want to." 

You're on the verge of crushing his foot. "Are you actually listening to yourself? Do you hear the complete bullshit you're talking?" 

"Don't be like that. I bet you've been sleeping with your roommate to get one over on me, too." He leans a little in your direction. "Why don't you explain to me why you slept with him but not with me, your boyfriend?" When you don't answer him, but just look at him venomously, a disgusting grin spreads across his face. "I'm telling you: because you're a little bitch." He takes his hand off the door and instantly your body relaxes a little. But the calm doesn't last long. "Did you hear that?" Raphael suddenly yells through the hallway, waking up all the neighbors within a 200-meter radius. "She's a little bitch. Come and get her. She really gets it on with everyone."

You open the door a little, but only to stand fully in the doorway. "Are you crazy? Be quiet, you'll wake up the whole of Monaco!"

His head jerks in your direction. "Why? Don't you want your roommate to know who you really are?"

If Raphael hadn't been shouting like that, you would certainly have heard the loud footsteps coming up the stairs. But all you see is a shadow and then you see familiar green eyes looking into yours. Charles is standing on the top step of the stairs, his eyes fixed on you, but before you can say anything, ask him why he's not in Italy, his gaze flits to Raphael and even from a distance you can see that Charles' body is tensing. 

Raphael follows your eyes and takes a step back when he sees your roommate standing in front of him. Charles could have been anyone - a neighbor complaining about the noise, a delivery man dropping off food - but from the way the Monegasque is glaring at your ex, there's no doubt. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?" Raphael runs his fingers nervously through his hair before taking a step in Charles' direction and holding out his hand. "Wow, it's an honor to meet you! I'm a big fan!"

Charles Leclerc? Honor? Big fan?

Charles looks down at the outstretched hand as if it were a venomous snake before he pushes past the man without answering and positions himself in front of you. You see his tense back muscles dance beneath his sweater as he turns to Raphael. "You should go."

"I think you've got this whole thing wrong," your ex tries to wriggle out of the situation. "Y/N is my girlfriend and we-"

"Ex-girlfriend," the brunette interjects without batting an eyelid.

Raphael scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Eh, we're just trying to sort that out. Would you please give us a moment so we can work this out?"

Charles doesn't even need to turn around to know that's the last thing you want. "No. I'm sure there's nothing to sort out. I'm not going to ask you to leave again."

Your ex snorts and raises his hands placatingly. "I don't want to argue with you. Like I said, I'm a huge fan and I watch every race. But the matter only involves Y/N and me, which is why I'm asking you to step aside so we can work this out." 

"And I said no." His tone is cool and calm, almost threatening, and his gaze is so piercing it sends a cold shiver down your spine.

Raphael rolls his eyes. "And I thought you were a cool guy. That's how you come across on TV, anyway." He takes a step towards you both and Charles pushes himself completely in front of you so that you can no longer see Raphael. "Your little girlfriend there is a slut, did you know that? A stupid little whore who-"

"Do you actually like your job? You still work in accounting at this one company, don't you? With the emphasis on 'still'," Charles asks calmly. As your ex takes a step back, Charles takes a step forward. "So if you want to keep it, I suggest you leave Y/N alone once and for all. You won't show up here, you won't call her again, you won't even think about her. And if you even think of telling anyone about this, I'll make sure you can't find a job anywhere. Do you understand me?" When your ex doesn't answer, Charles takes another step, causing Raphael to flinch and almost fall down the stairs. "Did you hear me?"

"Clearly and distinctly."

"Good." You can hear Charles' friendly smile. "Have a good evening, then." He looks after Raphael, who quickly scurries down the stairs, and only turns to you as the front door slams shut. 

But instead of asking you if everything is all right, he storms past you into the apartment without a word. You quickly close the door behind you, follow him on foot and find him in the bedroom, where he pulls a large sports bag out of the chest of drawers, which he carelessly throws onto the rumpled bed. He starts to clear out the closet.

"Charles?" you ask hesitantly, but remain standing in the doorway. "What are you doing?" When he doesn't answer, but pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and taps on it briefly before pocketing it again, you enter the room. "Charles? Say something, please."

"What do you want to hear from me?" he asks coldly, grabbing some clothes from the closet. Only when you take a closer look do you realize that these are your clothes that didn't fit in your small suitcase. 

"I don't know," you answer helplessly. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't even look at you. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm packing your things." He stuffs one of your shirts into the small side pocket. "So we can finally move out of here."

Confused, you look at him and sit on the edge of the bed. Far enough away from him. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really think you're going to stay here one more day after your crazy ex turned up? You were going to move out anyway, so we might as well get this over with."

You had told him that you were leaving this apartment, but you never expected him to throw you out of the apartment himself. Especially not today, when he wasn't supposed to be in Monaco, but in Italy. "Are you kicking me out?"

Charles zippers up the bag before placing it next to the suitcase and pulling the next bag out of the dresser and fills it with clothes. "Didn't you listen to me? We're moving out. I'm not leaving you alone in this apartment for another moment."

Charles's change of mood almost gives you whiplash. Yesterday he threw the nastiest words at you, made you cry and hurt you so much that you were seriously considering leaving the country. And now he's standing there packing your things into sports bags because he what? Doesn't want your ex to come back here to harass you again?

Puzzled, you sit on the bed while Charles goes through the apartment and collects all the personal belongings he can find. 

Why is he here when he's supposed to be in Italy? Why is he packing your things so that you can move out of this apartment if he doesn't care about you? And the biggest question is - how does Raphael know Charles? What races was he talking about? Why does he know him from TV?

Who is Charles Leclerc?

"Here, get changed," he snaps you out of your thoughts and throws you a pair of sweatpants and the white sweater he was wearing in the bookstore. "It's freezing outside and I don't want you to freeze to death." He grabs the bags and disappears out of the bedroom to give you some privacy. 

You quickly change, pull his sweater over your head and as you breathe in his scent, you could cry. The fact that Charles is here, defending you after he treated you so badly, confuses you so much that you don't know which way is up and which way is down. After yesterday, you hate him, you want to hate him, but Lando's words haunt your mind and apparently there's some truth to them, because otherwise Charles wouldn't have driven all the way to Monaco in the middle of the night. 

But why is he here? Why did he leave his meetings so much earlier? Did he feel guilty? Did Lando talk to him? Why is he back here with you after just one day?

He doesn't even look at you when you leave the bedroom in his clothes. He just grabs the bags and your suitcase and you're about to ask him if you should carry something too, but he's already disappeared out of the front door and into the dark hallway. You quickly grab the last of your belongings and follow him down the stairs, but instead of heading for the underground parking garage, he leaves the house and heads towards the street. 

"Where are you going?" you ask, out of breath, when you finally catch up with him. Without a word, he stops in front of a black car with a red and white stripe across it. It looks expensive, much more expensive than your old Renault, which is only confirmed by the horse on the hood and rims. "Whose car is this?"

"Get in," he says curtly as he unlocks the luxury ride and starts to put the bags away. When you don't move, he turns to you. "I won't say it again. Get in the damn car, Y/N."

"Why?" you ask, confused and also a little desperate. "Why would I get in the car with you? Give me one good reason."

Annoyed, he runs his hand through his hair so that it stands on end. "Either you get in the car now or I'll make you. It's your decision."

You cross your arms in front of your chest. By now you're annoyed by his behavior. "You can't force me."

"You bet I can." He takes a step closer so that you can feel his warm breath on your face. "Get in the fucking car."

There's a twinkle in his green eyes that stops you from challenging him. Silently, you get in on the passenger side of the car and plop down on the leather seat as Charles circles the hood. A few minutes later, as you're driving along Monaco's streets, the silence between you is unbearable. 

"Where are we going?" you ask, but get no answer. The Monegasque drives the car over the asphalt with an angry look on his face, even driving too fast, but he doesn't seem to care. "At least you can tell me where you're taking me. You owe me that after you dragged me out of the apartment."

"We're going to my other place."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "The one Annika lives in?"

Charles takes a turn without using his blinker. "Yes."

"And how do you picture that?" You turn in his direction. "You want me to share the apartment with your ex? Are you completely insane?"

He exhales loudly. "She won't be there when we get there."

"We? What do you mean 'we'?"

"I have to stay somewhere. Now that we both can't stay in the second apartment anymore."

Your voice sounds a little shrill as you answer him. "I wasn't planning on moving out of one apartment so I could move into another with you. Drive me to a hotel or somewhere else, but I don't want to live with you."

After all, he was the reason you wanted to move out of the apartment in the first place. He treated you badly, let you down - why should you spend another night with him? Especially since he still seems angry with you?

As the car comes to a halt, he looks over at you. "I don't care what you want right now. You're staying here tonight where I know you're okay and that asshole can't get too close to you. Tomorrow you can throw every insult you can think of at me, but right now you do what I tell you. Do you understand me?"

His authoritative and commanding tone leaves no room for discussion, so you just nod silently and get out of the car. You are in an underground parking garage, similar to the other one, but there are other cars here. Expensive cars, like the Ferrari you drove here in. 

Are these all his cars? Where did Charles get the money for a Ferrari? What-

"Come on. I won't wait forever." His voice brings you back to reality and like a toddler you follow him out of the garage, into the elevator and finally into the apartment, which is surprisingly empty. You don't have a moment's peace to look around as Charles has already unlocked a room and put your things inside.

"The guest room is unused." He takes a deep breath and exhales. "I know it's not the best solution for everything here, but I can't change it now. If you want to move out tomorrow, then do so. But please do me a favor and stay here tonight." His expression is softer and his voice is a little warmer than it was a few minutes ago, but that doesn't make you forget how the evening went.

"I'll be gone in the morning," you reply stubbornly, but you can feel your heart beating fast. Charles just nods and leaves you in the hallway so that you can enter your room undisturbed and keep to yourself. 

After closing the door behind you, you take off your warm clothes and fall onto the bed in your underwear without turning on the light. It is unused, the comforter is spread out on the mattress and the pillows feel as plush as if they had just been fluffed up. But as soon as your head touches the soft fabric and you breathe in, you are completely enveloped in Charles' scent. And you can't stop the tears streaming down your face as your body finally comes to rest.

The fact that Raphael suddenly turned up on your doorstep in the middle of the night has already thrown you off course. You never expected him to have the nerve to show up at your place - a pretty stupid thought when you remember that he had already tried to find you there recently. But actually seeing him, listening to his garbage, really ruined the evening that Lando had actually saved so far. 

And then came Charles, your knight in shining armour, who stood up for you so heroically and defended you, even though he had broken your heart just one day before. 

His behavior is completely at odds with what he's doing.

He drags you out of the apartment so that Raphael can no longer find you there, but forces you to go with him to this apartment, even though he knows that you don't want to have anything more to do with him. 

He packs your things, wants you to spend the night with him so he can be sure you're safe, but is so cold and dismissive to you that you might think Charles has multiple personalities. 

And then there's the fact that Raphael seems to know him. Even his full name. And he didn't pronounce it the way you do with people you just haven't seen for a long time but happen to meet on the street. His intonation was different, as if the name Charles Leclerc carried weight, as if he was something special, as if you had to know him. But who the hell is Charles Leclerc?

Is he the man who took you in when you didn't know where to go? The one in whom you found a friend you never really wanted to miss? The one you fell in love with without even wanting to?

Or is he the man who hurt you, rejected you, only to stand up for you in a domineering and possessive way? The one who took your heart and trampled on it, only to do everything he could to keep you safe a day later?

Who is Charles Leclerc?

Your shoulders shake and your breath comes in painful gasps as you wrap your arms around your middle and press your face into the pillow. Your throat feels constricted, your blood is pounding in your ears and your heart is beating so fast it feels like it wants to jump out of your chest. And this headache. They make you blind and deaf, which is why you don't notice the door to your room quietly opening and then falling back into the lock. 

Only when you feel the mattress lower behind you do you realize that Charles is with you. You want to turn to him, scream at him and send him packing, but you don't get the chance. Your tears stifle every sound and your body is shaking so badly that you can do nothing but lie there.

You don't question it when you feel Charles' chest against your back. "I'm here," he whispers softly as he wraps his arm around you and hugs you tightly. His other hand finds its way into your hair, which he strokes gently as his touch warms you. "It's all right, mon amour. I'm here," he repeats, tangling his bare legs with yours to pull you even closer to him. Not a piece of paper, not even a hair fits between you. 

Charles' skin is soft and smooth against yours, you feel the tiny hairs of his forearm against yours as he reaches out to grab your hand and finally intertwines your fingers. It feels like they were made for this. As if you were made for him. 

You want to turn around, to look at him, but his iron grip around your middle won't allow it, so you just press yourself against him, as close as you can, to be enveloped by him. By his smell, his warmth. Him. 

"Charles," you sigh into the darkness and feel the tip of his nose against your neck. 

"I'm here, mon amour." He presses a feather-light kiss to your bare shoulder. "I'm here as long as you'll let me."

next part

[wakandas-vibranium]

Double Date

Pairing: Fontaine x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings: smutty smut, 18+ content, minors DNI, oral(f+m receiving), protected p in v sex, dirty talk, daddy!kink, praise!kink, rough sex

Word count: 5k

Summary: Your coworker Yo-Yo is playing matchmaker and asked you to accompany her roommate on a double date.

A/N: Let’s get it started with these TCT fics!! If y’all writing ‘em, please tag me so I can read ‘em!! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You finished getting dressed, checked yourself in the mirror one last time, and smiled at how gorgeous you looked, so you grabbed your cell phone and purse and made your way downstairs to meet your Lyft driver. You couldn't wait for your automobile to be repaired because you loathed having to rely on others for transportation.

You were talking to your coworker Yo-Yo earlier this week about how you were touch starved and eager to jump back into the dating scene. Even though you had only worked with Yo-Yo for a little over four months, you had already come to think of her as a close friend. She just moved to Memphis not too long ago. 

Yo-Yo asked you on a double date with her and her boyfriend, claiming that Fontaine, her roommate, was the ideal man for you. 

You've seen Fontaine pick Yo-Yo up from work numerous times and have seen him drive that green car of his around town a few times, but you've never had the chance to actually talk to him. He always seemed to have a lot on his mind, but he was fine as hell, so of course you agreed to the double date. 

You suggested Melvin's, which was one of the few black-owned pubs in the neighborhood. They had delicious, mouthwatering food and a dance floor that never stayed vacant. 

Fontaine didn't appear to be the dancing type, which was fine by you. You just hoped that he would like you enough to bring you back home and fuck your brains out. It had been exactly 14 months, 12 weeks, 11 days, 13 hours, 22 minutes and 57 seconds since you had any kind of dick.

It was time.

Your Lyft driver pulled up in front of you at a quarter to eight, which was perfect because y'all had agreed to meet there at eight and it was only a ten-minute drive from your apartment.

"Lyft for Y/N?" said the older gentleman as he rolled down the passenger window.

You nodded at him, and he quickly stepped out to open the rear door for you, saying, "You lookin' good, young lady!" 

You smiled at him before ducking into the backseat, "Thank you."

Before you knew it, you were parked in front of Melvin's. A nervous chill swept over you. It had been a good lil minute since you've dated. You were rusty and willed yourself not to fuck up tonight.

Once you strutted inside, you spotted the three of them almost immediately. They were all in deep conversation and didn't notice you walk in. They picked a good table to sit at. One close to the bar and dance floor. It was a Thursday night, so it wasn't too packed, but it had a nice lil crowd. 

You tucked your phone inside your clutch, took a deep breath, and strolled confidently over to their table. 

All three of them turned their heads towards you as you neared the table. Yo-Yo beamed brightly at you and waved you over. Her boyfriend's eyes widened, and he mumbled something you couldn't hear, but it must have been inappropriate because Yo-Yo kicked him under the table. 

Fontaine raised his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. The flash of his gold teeth almost made your knees go weak, but you kept walking. You were a sucker for niggas with grills.

Yo-Yo’s man and Fontaine were on the same side of the booth. Yo-Yo was sitting across from her boyfriend, and the empty spot in front of Fontaine was reserved for you.

Yo-Yo stood up and hugged you tightly, "You look finer than a motherfucka!" 

You giggled, squeezing her back just as tightly, "Thank you girl! You look amazing too!" 

She broke the hug and motioned to the two men, "This is my man, Slick Charles, and this is Fontaine." She motioned for you to slide into the booth first, “And this is my coworker and friend Y/N." 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Slick Charles greeted as he held out his hand. You shook his hand before scooching over into the booth. 

“It’s good to meet you, Y/N,” Fontaine said as he extended his hand, “I’m Fontaine.” 

You placed your hand in his large palm, brown eyes locking with his brown eyes and smiled softly at him, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Fontaine.” 

He squeezed your hand, and a wave of warmth rushed through you. Under his intense gaze, you could feel your cheeks heating up. 

Were you really so touch-deprived that a simple handshake and eye contact were enough to make your black ass blush?

The server came over and greeted everybody warmly, saying, "Welcome to Melvin's. What drinks can I get started on for y'all?"

Yo-Yo ordered first, “I’ll have a Manhattan.” 

Then Slick Charles, “Yeah I’ll take a vodka cranberry with a splash of orange juice.” 

The waiter turned to you expectantly and you ordered, “A whiskey sour, please.” 

Fontaine ordered last, “Just a double shot of whiskey for me.”

“And did you want that neat or on the rocks?” 

“Neat.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” 

“So,” you started as you watched the waiter walk off, “How are y’all liking Memphis so far?”

“I’m really enjoying it,” Yo-Yo chimed in. 

“Yeah,” Slick Charles agreed, “It’s a nice change from the Glen.”

“I like it here,” Fontaine added, “I like being in a place where not too many niggas know me.” 

“Well I’m glad y’all came to Memphis,” you admitted, smiling warmly at them. 

The waiter returned with your drinks and took your orders before walking away. 

“Slick, let's hit the dance floor while we wait for our food.” Yo-Yo said as she did a little dance at the table. 

“I ain’t got on my dancing shoes to—“

“—Nigga, get yo ass up and let’s dance.”

“I know we retired and all but I’m still—“ Slick Charles was cut off by Yo-Yo yanking him up and to the dance floor. 

“Are they always like that?” You asked, biting back a laugh as you watched Yo-Yo drag Slick Charles all the way to the dance floor.

“Pretty much,” Fontaine nodded, never taking his eyes off you, “How long you been in Memphis?”

“All my life.”

“You ain’t ever think about movin’ somewhere else?”

“Nah, not really,” you shrugged, “All my family is here, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get it.” 

You were surprised by how effortlessly the conversation flowed. You could talk to him for hours and never get tired of listening to his alluring voice. You were curious about the noises he made while he was balls deep in some pussy. You cleared your throat in an attempt to pull your thoughts out of the gutter. It didn't work.

“You been in a lot of relationships?” You asked, taking another swig of your drink. 

“Nah, I ain’t really have too many shawtys back in the Glen.” 

“Hmm, so you haven’t come across any Memphis women that caught your attention?”

“You caught my eye,” he stated, catching you off guard. 

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’mma keep it real with you, Fontaine,” you said as you looked him straight in the eye, “I want you really bad.” 

“Shit then we on the same page,” he acknowledged, downing the rest of his drink. “So you comin’ back with me tonight?” 

You nodded, “I just have one condition though.” 

“And what’s that?” Fontaine questioned as he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward a bit. 

You leaned across the table and motioned for him to come closer. When he was close enough to your liking you whispered, “You have to keep the grills on while you eat my pussy.” 

His brown eyes darkened with desire and a hint of mischief at your request. As your tongue glided across your bottom lip, his gaze drifted to your mouth. 

The sexual tension was so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife.

“I can do that.” 

You inched closer to each other, your gaze never leaving the other's. From this close range, you could see that his pupils were dilated. You were positive that yours most likely were too. 

“Yeah? You promise?” The corners of your mouth couldn’t help but turn up into an infectious grin at the electric look he gave you.

“Promise.”

He closed what little distance was left between you and kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back with a quickness. Under his facial hair, his full lips were soft against yours and tasted of whiskey. 

The bustling noise of the forks scraping plates, the chatter of the other customers, and the thump of feet on the dance floor all faded away for a brief moment.

You rested your hands on his broad shoulders as he deepened the kiss, letting out a soft moan as his tongue brushed against yours. His hand was wrapped around your lower arm, softly caressing your brown skin. 

You got a little carried away as you slid your hands to the sides of his neck and gently tugged at his lower lip. The low grunt of surprise that he let out caused your clit to throb, and your nipples to harden. He didn't try to pull away from you though. He held both of your arms now and squeezed them tighter as his kisses became more heated.

You were seconds away from saying fuck it and pulling him into a bathroom stall, but you refrained. You had to maintain some type of decorum.

“Ahhh sookie sookie now!” Slick Charles chuckled as he made his way back to the table.

“Y’all niggas need to get a room,” Yo-Yo teased as she plopped down next to you. 

“These motherfuckas,” Fontaine grumbled as he pulled away. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you noticed that some other patrons were staring at you. You ignored them and focused your attention on Yo-Yo and Slick Charles, both of whom were smirking at you and Fontaine.

You were too turned on to be embarrassed, and fortunately, the waiter was on his way over with everyone's food.

The food was delicious as always, and the evening was going exceptionally well. Slick Charles was telling you how he met Yo-Yo, but you were zoning in and out. 

Every time you locked eyes with Fontaine, you squirmed in your seat a little. There was something in his fierce gaze that promised you a night of passion. 

You were so turned on that you couldn't even finish your food. You just ordered another whiskey sour and sipped on that until the others were finished and ready to leave.

The drive back to their place was smooth and just a vibe. Yo-Yo and Slick Charles sang along to the 90's R&B that played softly on the radio in the backseat, and you joined them a few times.

Fontaine sat in a comfortable silence, driving with one hand because his right hand was spread out over your thigh. When he would stop at a red light, he would squeeze it or rub it with his fingers. All the while not taking his eyes off the road, driving you insane, and making you wet for him. He had to know what he was doing to you. 

They lived in a pretty nice apartment complex. It wasn't too far from yours. Once Fontaine parked, you got out of the car and walked ahead with Yo-Yo, arm in arm.

You were elated that they lived on the first floor because your feet were killing you. Yo-Yo unlocked the door and you followed her inside. She pulled you through the apartment to the kitchen, handing you a bottle of water after she closed the fridge. 

You and she gushed over how great tonight turned out to be and how you both had naughty plans for your men.

A couple of minutes later, the fellas entered the apartment. Slick Charles called for Yo-Yo, who winked at you and gave you a thumbs up before exiting the kitchen.

You were halfway done with your water when Fontaine found you leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” he greeted.  

“Hi,” you replied, shooting him a warm smile. 

He pointed to the hallway, “My room is the last room on the left. I’ll meet you there in a min.” 

You nodded as you watched him shuffle out of the kitchen. You gulped down the last bit of your water and threw away the bottle before leaving the kitchen in search of his bedroom.

You found his room with ease, passing Fontaine, Yo-Yo and Slick Charles. The door was already open, so you headed in, not bothering to flip on the light because the tiny lamp on his nightstand illuminated the room plenty for you to see.

“Slick, what the fuck we gon’ do with glow in the dark condoms?” you heard Fontaine question from the other bedroom. You laughed to yourself. You weren’t completely against those types of condoms. 

Slick Charles went on about Fontaine being boring and how he needed to have some fun. You tuned him out as you took off your heels, sighing in relief while you walked around Fontaine’s room. 

You checked your phone to make sure there were no missed calls or texts before slipping it back in your purse. You placed your clutch on his dresser and checked yourself out in the mirror while you waited for him. You looked like a snack and you were definitely ready to be ate! 

Fontaine strolled into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. You turned around to look at him. He held up a gold-colored foil packet and asked, “You ain't allergic to latex, right?" 

"Nah, I'm not allergic,” you assured him.

"Cool," he said as he pocketed the rubber and took his shoes and socks off, kicking them to the side before pulling you in by the waist and kissing you instantly. 

You kissed him back, your arms sliding up to wrap around his neck. His hands ventured down to your ass, squeezing it tight as he deepened the kiss. He swallowed your soft moans, licking into your hot mouth as he backed you into the dresser.

“Now I told yo ass to slow down before you injure a nigga’s back!” Slick Charles shouted through the walls. Yo-Yo said something back but you couldn’t make out what she had said. 

He broke the kiss, panting lightly as you both stared at each other for several seconds before he shook his head and you let out a giggle. Those two had to be the strangest and funniest couple you’d ever met. 

You felt his hardness against your thigh and you rubbed it. Damn, he was huge. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stretching your walls.

“You ready for Daddy to eat that pussy?” he asked as he took a step back, looking you up and down. 

Was the sky blue? Hell yeah, you were. 

You nodded enthusiastically as you pulled your dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor. He watched you undress with hungry eyes, palming his erection. Once you took off your bra and panties you sauntered over to the bed, sitting down slowly before spreading your legs. 

He yanked off his shirt, revealing his large chest and broad shoulders, throwing it on the floor with your pile of clothes. He followed you up the bed, pulling on your legs to bring you closer to his face. 

“Damn shawty,” Fontaine murmured as he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, licking his lips at the captivating way your pussy glimmered in his dimly lit room. “All for me, huh?”

"All for you, Daddy," you sighed deeply in anticipation as you felt his breath on your sensitive cunt. His nose brushed against your clit, causing your thighs to tremble slightly.

Leaning on his forearms, his large hands rested atop your lower belly as he licked a warm stripe from your wet slit all the way to your clit, flicking it twice before closing his mouth around it. You could already tell that you wouldn’t last long.

“You taste good as fuck,” he praised, dipping his tongue into your hole, tasting your fresh juices. He slid his finger in, stretching you slowly as he licked around your clit, strong tongue pushing you closer to the edge. 

"Oooh just like that," you held the back of his head, moaning loudly, "Don't stop."

Your back arched off the bed, bringing your pussy closer to his talented mouth. Your thighs began to shake as your climax loomed. The sheer pleasure was almost too much for you. You tried to force your thighs closed, but Fontaine's hand pinned you down. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You inhaled sharply and sank back against the pillows as he inserted a second finger, pumping you faster.

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned even louder. 

He softly nibbled your clit, and the coolness of his golds was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge.

“I can feel it,” he moaned against your sensitive bud, slurping up all your juices, “Let it all out for Daddy.” 

His filthy words and the calculated flicks of his tongue had your mind whirling and your heart pounding. Every mind-boggling wave of bliss flooded through your veins, causing you to shiver uncontrollably as you tugged on his locs. At the moment, you couldn't form any words. All you could do was pant harshly and let out all kinds of obscene noises.

When he finally felt your body go limp, he pulled off your clit and eased his fingers out of you. Fontaine planted a few soothing kisses on your thighs before sitting up.

Your eyes were still closed, and your breaths were finally slowing, but you could feel his eyes on you and hear him sucking his fingers.

You peeked through one eye and found him kneeling over you, completely naked now, stroking his massive dick as he watched you with a mischief glint in his dark eyes. 

“I see you smirkin’, nigga,” you blurted, pointing at him as you glowed blissfully.

He tried to cover his smile but you saw it anyway. He playfully smacked your hand and said, “I was just tryna make sure you wasn’t ‘bout to pass out on a nigga.” 

“Yeah, yeah..”

He continued to stroke his dick as he lay on his back beside you. You turned your head to the side to get a better look, and your mouth watered at the sight. 

"Come taste this dick," he commanded as he watched you ogle it.

You sat up on your knees and leaned forward, taking it in both your hands. He had to have been eight or nine inches in length and was very girthy; his dick curved to the left too. It had been a while since you gave head, but you were determined to make him feel good. 

You wrapped your lips around the tip. It was warm and velvety against your tongue. You let the soft feel of Fontaine's dick run over your tongue, relishing the taste as you took him down as far as you could go, breathing through your nose. He hissed lowly as the wet heat of your mouth engulfed him. 

You licked a wet stripe up and down the length of his shaft before rising up to close your lips around the crown, stroking the rest of his rod swiftly. 

You glimpsed up at Fontaine through your eyelashes. The heated stare he gave you was enough to make you feel lightheaded. His golds flashed at you as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. The sight had you dripping for him.

He moaned your name, stretching out his legs as he cupped the back of your head. You swirled your tongue around, drawing out a long groan from him as you flattened your tongue down the underside of his tip. He lifted his hips, thrusting up as he held your head in place. 

You moaned as he fucked up into your mouth, your left hand braced on his knee while the other fondled his balls. Tears pricked your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down as much as you could, gagging briefly as the tip of his dick slipped down the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped as he halted his movements and gripped your shoulder, “Stop before I nut.” 

You pulled off with a loud pop, placing one final kiss onto the swollen, spit-gleaming tip before climbing up his body and crushing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss. His big hands roamed all over your body, squeezing your supple ass while he kissed you back just as sloppily.

"Aight, lay back for me," he murmured, breaking the kiss and pushing you onto your back, moving with a skilled quickness to put the magnum on before slotting himself between your spread legs. 

He lined himself up against your entrance, dragging his dick up and down your wet slit, only stopping to tap his fat tip against your sensitive clit, making you gasp and jerk beneath him in anticipation.

He slowly pushed inside, and your mouth fell open, but you quickly closed it, fighting back the scream that was about to escape.

“Shit,” he groaned deeply, pulling out a little once he was halfway in, and sinking back in, watching your pussy stretch around him. “You squeezin’ a nigga.” 

The pressure of the stretch stung, so you just bit your bottom lip, clung to the sheets and breathed deeply through your nose until the feeling subsided.

“You good?” he asked, voice laced with concern, stopping all movement when he realized just how quiet you were being. 

You opened your eyes, and his worried eyes swept your face, looking for any sign of pain. It was almost as though he was splitting you in two. You had to take a few more deep breaths in order to relax.

"Yeah, I'm good," you assured him as you let go of the covers and clung to his arms. "Your dick is huge, Fontaine goddamn."

He grinned at your confession and pulled all the way out before plunging back in, damn near knocking the wind out of you. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, legs spreading wider to grant him better access. 

Once he was buried deep inside you, you let out a moan so inviting that he couldn't resist lowering his head and capturing your lips with his. You stroked his cheeks and tugged him closer, kissing him with all the fervor you could muster.  

“Shit, you feel good,” he praised, moaning softly as he began to circle his hips. 

“Please fuck me harder,” you sighed deeply, hands moving down to cup your breasts.

He straightened up and began to thrust inside you, picking up the tempo once he established a good rhythm. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of your wetness, his hips slamming hard against yours, and heavy breaths.

“Fontaine,” you moaned breathlessly. He groaned in response as he was beginning to love the way you called his name. 

“You look so pretty takin’ all this dick,” he praised, grip on your thighs tightening as he fucked you even faster. Warmth spread across your chest at the praise, and more wetness oozed out of your tight hole.

His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. Listening to him groan and grunt in delight was music to your ears, and it made your clit throb harder.

The intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins. He was fucking you so good. When you realized how loud you were being, you snapped your mouth shut, stifling your moans.

"Nah, I want to hear you,” he growled low in your ear, thrusting harder and deeper, “Tell me how good Daddy dick feels.” 

You couldn't help but whimper as he brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “You—ah shit—feel so fuckin’ good!”

“I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?” Fontaine chuckled cockily, gold chain dangling against your chin. 

“Yesss Daddy! Ple—please don’t stop,” you begged. 

“What a nigga get if he don’t stop?”

“Anything!” you cried out, squeezing your legs around him and holding onto his shoulders as he pounded you into the mattress. “Shit— Fontaine I’m ‘bout to cum,” you breathed shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut. 

“I want that shit,” he grunted loudly as he felt your walls contract around him, “Cum all over this dick.” 

You sank your teeth into his shoulder, biting down hard, muffling your screams of pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. He sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable pain and as your cunt clenched so tightly around him, cumming hard, creaming all over his dick.

He whispered soothing things to you as your body convulsed in his arms. He held you tighter as he traced kisses all over your face and down your neck, shifting his rhythm back to a gentle rock. 

Once you came to your senses, you opened your eyes and gasped at the teeth marks you had left on his shoulder.

“Oh shit Fontaine,” you whispered as you traced the bite mark with your thumb, “I ain’t mean to bite you.” 

“Nah, you good,” he huffed, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m actually into that shit.” 

“Good to know.”

He waited a few more seconds before pulling out. He climbed off of you, kneeled on the bed, and scooched back to give you room to move, “Hands and knees, Y/N.” 

You happily obliged by rolling onto your stomach and arching effortlessly on your hands and knees.

You and Fontaine moaned in unison when he entered you in one swift motion, hips smacking against your asscheeks as he set a brutal pace. This must have been his favorite position because he wasn’t fucking around this time. Your desperate whimpers and the wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the bedroom once again. You took every inch he gave you, arms stretched out in front of you, fingers gripping the sheets as you rocked back against him. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted as he smacked your asscheek, “Fuck me back just like that.” 

His grip was so tight on your waist that you knew your hips would be sore in the morning. The thought alone made you wetter so you threw it back even harder.

It didn't take long for Fontaine to elicit another orgasm from you, causing your knees to buckle and slump against the mattress. He followed you down, chest pressed against your back, still pounding his thick dick inside you and panting against your ear.

As he placed all of his weight on you, his large hands wrapped around yours, fingers intertwining as he continued to give you the best dick you'd ever had. He was grinding so hard and deeply into you, muttering filthy words in your ear. The boundless pleasure was starting to become overwhelming. You couldn't cum again. You were almost certain that you'd pass smooth the fuck out if you came a fourth time. You needed him to cum. 

“Fon—fuuuuck! Please cum for me!” 

“You want Daddy to nut?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined, eyes rolling back as he brushed against your g-spot yet again. 

“Aight, c’mere,” He rose back up on his knees, tugging you along with him. You braced yourself on your hands and knees. He slowly rocked into you a few times before setting a merciless pace, fucking the breath right out of your lungs.

“Goddamnit,” you rasped, “You fuck me so good!”

As he repeatedly hammered away at your g-spot, all you could do was grab the sheets and scream his name. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. As your walls tightened around his fat dick, you trembled, gasping and whimpering. You were a mess. Another orgasm blasted through you, taking you both by surprise and blurring your vision. It took all your strength not to fall forward as your thighs shook violently.

Fontaine grunted loudly as he rutted against you like a mad man, smacking your asscheeks over and over, chasing his own orgasm. He let out a low, guttural groan, thrusts faltering as he twitched inside of you, cumming hard. 

You both panted harshly and were completely fucked out. Arms and legs weaker than SWV.

He trailed kisses down your sweat-glistening back before pulling out of you. Once he was free, you slumped all the way forward, your head resting against a pillow. He carefully pulled the condom off, tied it, and tossed it into the bin beside his nightstand before plopping down next to you. 

Still splayed out on your stomach, you scooched as close to him as you could, cupped his face, and just gazed down into his eyes as you swiped your thumb across his hairy cheek. 

He mirrored your gaze, his eyes less intense than usual, and wrapped his arm around your waist, massaging small circles into your lower back with the pads of his fingertips.

After a prolonged moment of silence, in-tune gazes, and soft caresses, you broke the silence and said, "That was fuckin' amazing."

He nodded his head in agreement so you asked him, “When can we do this again?” 

“Whenever you want,” he said before pulling you down into a tender, biting kiss. He sucked in your lower lip and licked into your mouth teasingly. You tugged on his bottom lip, softly sighing as you ran your tongue across his golds, shifting so you were half on top of him, chest to chest.

Good, you thought. Because you definitely planned on sticking around. Good dick and conversation? There was no way you were passing that up. 

“Goddamn ‘Taine! You ain’t have to upstage a pimp like that!” Slick Charles hollered through the walls. 

You broke the kiss, gasping at the random outburst. 

“Nigga, shut yo retired ass up!” Yo-Yo said just as loud.

Fontaine tried to hold it, but one look at your amused face had him chuckling and shaking his head fondly at his roommates.

[greyskyflowers]

Since I very much enjoy the idea of Edwin being permanently a little fucked up after his 2nd trip to hell and everything with Esther, I have made a few posts about that if you're interested ~ I think a potential part of that would be to consider if Charles, and Crystal, ever battle feelings of guilt about being the reason they all ended up in Port Townsend.

Like, I wonder if when they finally got everything calmed down and are back home, if the night nurse absent-mindedly says something about the possession of Esther being the thing that got her department involved and Charles just gets this horrible sinking in his gut.

And then he starts thinking about everything and how it might have looked to Edwin.

How he and Crystal pushed Edwin to go to Port Townsend, and how often they all ended up with Crystal and Edwin facing each other to argue and Charles physically on Crystal's side.

Possessing Esther even though Edwin had always told him to never do that and how confident he had been that nothing was going to happen and Edwin was just being Edwin.

How his response to Edwin coming back leashed and clearly upset about the cat king was to give him shit and push over and over on the topic.

Letting Edwin get taken to hell again, even though Charles had been right there.

Esther.

Niko.

Also, when they learn Crystal willing let David in and how potentially upsetting that could be to Edwin? Even if Charles didn't know a lot about hell, and I don't think he did, demons must be something that kind of trip Edwin up a little, right? Maybe those cases make him go a little quieter, more likely to stick close to Charles, etc.

They got Niko out of Port Townsend, and they ended up in a better position with the Lost and Found department by the end of everything, but still.

Everytime Edwin now flinches away from the light because he's got a headache, or he's so exhausted after a case that Charles basically has to carry him back, or an iron burn takes much longer to heal then it ever has... the guilt makes Charles feel like he's going to get sick.

Maybe Edwin also checks out a little more then he did previously, eyes going a little hazy and clearly not seeing or hearing them. He doesn't talk and he'll just sit there, sometimes for days. Charles has to coax him onto the couch for a little more comfort, getting him to lay down even though it really doesn't do anything, Edwin always going easily to wherever Charles nudges him. He doesn't know exactly where Edwin goes during those zone outs but he can guess and it's nothing good.

🌙🌙🌙

This no way meant to say anything bad about any of the characters and if you take it that way then you didn't pay attention. Charles is usually really good with people and really good with Edwin, but I think he got so distracted by Crystal that things just got messy. And once things started spiraling, it just kept going.

Edwin is absolutely not blameless in all this either and I love Crystal but the beginning of the relationships between all of them was a hot mess.

We've all at some point, been brushed aside for something shiny and new. It's a terrible feeling. Add in the fact that Charles is basically Edwin's only person and his world got very small and lonely, very quickly.

[frankenkyle19]

I’ve Always Been Right Here

this is a little fic I wrote about Peter and Erik actually discussing everything because the movies suck and never let us see them have any sort of father/son relationship :(. I’ve been obsessed with dadneto lately so like obviously I had to write this. And sad Peter :( but it’s okay because it’s a happy ending! This takes place after Apocalypse where Erik ended up staying or whatever idk :/ the x-men timeline scares me and I try not to think too much about it. Enjoy!

word count: 1.7k words

Charles had been pushing both parties involved to talk about it. Little encouragements here and there because unbeknownst to Peter, Erik did know that he was his child. Had found out a while ago from Charles himself and decided not to say anything. He had good reasoning but was sure Peter wouldn’t see reason in anything once he found out he knew and hadn’t come to talk to him about it. The poor kid was just as stubborn as he was. 

Charles kept pushing the two of them together. Probably thought he was being helpful but really he was not. The atmosphere between them was always tense, the both of them walking on eggshells around the other, careful with what they said. It was awful for both of them. All the other X-men noticed it too. 

Finally one night after dinner at the mansion Peter had had enough. Him and Erik were the last two at the table to clean up and he thought about it all for a moment before it just became too much and he picked up his plate, slamming it down so hard against the wood that it broke in his hands.

“I’m your son! There, dammit I said it! I’m your fucking son. Remember now? Leaving my mom while she was pregnant because you were so scared to have a family. You left her to figure it all out on her own! And where were you when I needed to learn how to ride a bike or throw a football?! You weren’t there! You’re my father and you’ve…” Peter’s voice broke as he blinked rapidly, trying his hardest to avoid tears as years of anger and resentment flew from his mouth without any warning. 

“You’re telling me you didn’t know? When I broke you out of the Pentagon you just…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he paced back and forth. He had half a mind to punch the stupid son of a bitch right in the face, but he didn’t.

“You never wanted to find me? Weren’t interested in seeing how your kid turned out? Well here I am. HERE I AM!. I was waiting to see how long it would take you to notice but I guess I gave up.”

Silence fell between the two of them, both refusing to look at each other. 

“Peter…” Erik started, trying to de-escalate the situation which was almost comical. He’d never been the level headed one before. 

“I don’t expect you to understand.. My life… I have been through hell. I was trying to spare you from it all. And selfishly.. I was scared.” He admitted, finally looking at Peter now, who was shaking with barely restrained anger.

“I was scared because I didn’t know what to do with a child..” 

“Well you could have figured it out. I don’t want to hear excuses, that’s not… Not going to fix things now. I’m not even sure if things can be fixed. Y’know, I remember seeing you on the news after I broke you out of prison. Something clicked in my mind that you were my dad. I’m surprised it took me as long as I did but I’ve never been known to be the smartest.. My mom told me I should be afraid of you but I told her I wasn’t.. I’m not afraid of you.”

Erik looked at him befuddled for a moment before he shook his head, deciding to sit back down in his chair. This conversation was probably going to be a long one.

“I don’t want you to be scared, Peter. I’ve never wanted you to be scared. I.. I truthfully don’t have an excuse for what I did to you and to your mother. I am sorry.”

Peter must not have been expecting him to apologize so easily because he looked at him in shock, hands shaking around the broken pieces of plate he still held, eyes welling with tears. Shakily he sat down in his seat at the table, setting the pieces of the plate down before he clenched his fists, hard. Dammit! He didn’t want to cry..

“I’m here now, Peter. And I’ll explain it all to you if you want. Any questions you have, I’ll answer them.”

“When did you know? When did you know I was your son?” Peter asked, sniffling softly as he wiped the tears from his eyes before they had the chance to fall. 

“Charles informed me. Well… He confirmed it. I’d had my suspicions since Apocalypse. The way you looked at me… I realized it then but I didn’t want to accept it. Especially not in that moment.”

Peter took a deep breath before nodding. Right now Erik was an open book and was going to answer any of his questions so now was the time. 

“Am I the only one? Kid of yours I mean.. Do I have any siblings I don’t know about? I’ve got my little sis but like.. I dunno it was a dumb question-“

“Nina.” Erik said, a sad look coming over his face. He didn’t look at Peter now, instead he looked at the broken pieces of the plate in front of him. His boy. 

“She was your little sister. She was- Everything to me. My whole world.”

Peter perked up for a moment before the tone of Erik’s voice and the look in his eyes had him expecting the worst. An uneasiness took hold in his stomach now, churning. He felt like he knew what Erik was going to say but he didn’t want him to say it. It would hurt him worse then he’d expect it to.

“She was killed. By humans..” anger rose up in Erik’s voice now as he spoke. He was still so bitter to the humans because they’d caused him nothing but suffering. He recalled that grim day in the woods. How eerily silent it all fell after the fact. The blood on his hands.. It was the worst day of Erik’s entire life and he’d lived through a lot of unimaginable things.

Peter swallowed thickly, zoning out when it was confirmed. He’d had another sister and he’d never gotten to meet her. And now.. she was gone. How weird it was to grieve someone you’ve never met and never would get to. She had still been part of Peter. They’d shared a father after all.

“I-“ Peter started until he felt his voice waver in the back of his throat, eyes burning as he cast his gaze back down to the broken plate. Everything was broken.. Not just the plate, he thought.

He didn’t want to ask how. Knowing she’d been killed was enough. Maybe one day in the future he’d ask for more but neither man was ready for that conversation yet.

Erik moved to pull something out of his pocket, showing Peter the small necklace with a little locket. 

“This is the only thing I have left. They’ve taken everything from me. Everyone I’ve loved.”

Peter’s heart was crushed at the words because… he was sitting right there! He’d always been right here.. Right in front of Erik’s face.. Did he not love him? Did he care at all for him in any sort of way? 

“… I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.. You know how many nights I laid awake crying because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you? Every time me and mom passed a man on the street I’d wonder. Wonder if maybe one of them was you. I wondered why as a child my father didn’t love me enough to stay.”

The words stung. They hurt Erik but Peter was far too lost in his emotions to try and hold anything back now. He’d say what he meant, after all he’d been waiting over two decades to say it. 

“Peter please…”

“No!” He yelled, slamming his fists on the table again, just barely avoiding the pieces of the plate. He moved away from the table now, standing in the middle of the dining room as he glared at Erik. “No! You can’t tell me what to do and you can’t tell me to stop. You ruined my life!! You ruined my life by not being in it!” Peter’s tears fell heavy now. The weight of the past two decades washed over him in waves. A choked sob clawed its way up his throat and he tried hard to not let it out but it did. All of his brokenness was on display. He wasn’t just the weird silver haired speedster who cracked jokes at the most inconvenient times. He was a person with real feelings, many of them ugly.

He pawed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, an angry sigh slipping from his lips. He’d been so focused on not letting Erik see him like this, faced away from him that he also hadn’t noticed that he’d gotten up from his chair and made his way over to him. 

Peter flinched when Erik wrapped his arms around him and cradled his head to his chest. He felt sick because fuck he’d needed this hug for years now. Something he’d never thought he’d get, here it was. 

He tensed for just a moment before he hugged back, practically clutching onto Erik’s shirt as he cried into his chest. Cried into his father’s chest. His dad. This was his dad.. It had all hit him and he was spiraling.

Erik held him through the tears, the quiet sobs that wracked his whole body. He held him through it, still in disbelief that this was the first time he’d held him. He never got to hold him as a baby, never got to watch him grow up. In so many ways he’d failed him. Never again. 

He pressed his face into his silver hair, letting out a shaky exhale. “I’m here now Peter. I promise. I’m going to be here for you from here on out.”

It went on like that for longer than either of them cared to count until eventually Peter pulled away shakily, letting out a half hearted laugh at how wet Erik’s shirt had become after soaking up all of his tears.

Their eyes met, Peter’s brow furrowed in such a similar way to Erik’s that for the first time it was so obvious that they were related.

Erik reached out and patted Peter’s shoulder gently, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

“It’s late, you should head to bed, kiddo.” 

“I know.” Peter zipped around the room, cleaning up the mess he’d made before he stopped in the doorway, glancing back at Erik.

“Hey-“

“Yes?”

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, son.”

[padfoot-lupin77]

This might have been discussed before but I haven’t seen it anywhere so: the comedy potential of the Night Nurse staying at the dead boy detective agency is absolutely insane. She knows little about the human world. And she doesn’t like any of the people she now has to work with. Absolute Chaos dialogues under the cut cause this post would be too long otherwise

Night Nurse: *knocks on Crystal’s door*

Night Nurse: Who the fuck is Charlie?

Crystal: you mean Charles?

Night Nurse: No- I know who Charles is, little girl.

Crystal: don’t call me th-

Night Nurse: it was Charles, in fact, who asked if I know about that Charlie and some angels of his. I know all about angels, was this ghost boy mocking me?

Crystal:

Crystal: Charles fucking Rowland didn’t Edwin tell you that the ‘Charlie’s Angels’ thing was a bad idea?

Night Nurse: *deep breath* aright if we have to work together I suppose it would be good to get to know each other

Night Nurse: so, how long have you two been together?

Charles: uh-

Edwin: we’ve been best mates ever since I… escaped hell the first time, around the time Charles died.

Night Nurse: *nods skeptically*

*later that day*

Night Nurse: so your name is Jenny?

Jenny: yes. If I understand correctly you’re an immortal being from the afterlife… or something?

Night Nurse: an eternal transdimensional being but I wouldn’t expect anyone to know the difference

Jenny: great, more supernatural stuff. Just what we needed.

Night Nurse: so, Jenny, you seem to me like the most normal around here.

Jenny: a sentence I never expected to hear, but go on.

Night Nurse: can you inform me what the phrase “best mates” means?

Jenny: seriously? Okay, from what I get it’s the British way to say best friends

Night Nurse: like, a couple?

Jenny: no, like best friends. Two very good friends.

Night Nurse: I’m sorry, I must have got this wrong somehow?

Jenny: clearly. What’s confusing?

Night Nurse: the Edwin boy said he and Charles are best mates but they seem too close with each other?

Jenny: *laughs* yeah, I thought so too. But sometimes friends are very close too. Not that I would know.

Night Nurse: and what makes a close friendship different from a… relationship?

Jenny: honestly, I think you’ve got the wrong person for these questions, I have no idea

Night Nurse: humans don’t make any sense

Night Nurse: I don’t think this will work, I’m going to get my own apartment.

Crystal: and how are you going to do this, exactly?

Night Nurse: I will go whichever local office is responsible for this type of transfers and get whatever papers necessary. I’ve spent all my time doing paperwork, how different can human paperwork be?

Edwin, under his breath: you have no idea

Night Nurse: In fact I will go right now.

Crystal: should we tell her?

Charles: Nah, let her find out the hell that is human-world paperwork

Charles: but this Night Nurse sabotaged our case!

Edwin: I know, just hold on a minute because I just had a most brilliant idea.

*whispers at Charles the plan*

Charles: you’re a genius, mate.

Edwin: I know, now let’s tell Crystal.

*the next day*

*knocks on the Night Nurse’s door*

Charles: hello miss Night Nurse

Crystal: we have brought you a present

Edwin: yes, we- ahem, we realized you were right…

Charles: *trying not to laugh* and we have brought this present to apologize

Night Nurse: that’s… nice of you kids… let me see

Night Nurse: *opens the box*

Night Nurse: *sees a fish tank with an angler fish identical to the one that swallowed her in ep 4*

Night Nurse: you. You evil, demon children how dare you

Edwin, Charles and Crystal all burst out laughing

[lovelylotusf1]

loved the second chapter of sweet kitten ahh! i would love to see or hear about charles’ perspective and just how mean he REALLLYYY wanted to be if you ever feel so inclined to chat abt it!

Thank youuu, so happy you enjoyed it <3

Honestly, the only thing holding sweet kitten!Charles back is my inability to figure out where exactly the line between “dom/sub undertones”, “light dom/sub” and “dom/sub” is and just keeping everything as light as possible cause I didn't want to retag it :((

I feel like Charles wants to coax every possible expression out of Max, and if the only option to do it is by making sure Max isn't thinking about anything else but him, then by god will he take that option. It's less about the power dynamic of dom/sub for me, but rather how possessive and obsessed lestappen are with each other. I could see them talking about subspace (read: Charles bringing up the idea and cornering Max about it until he's finally ready to talk), purely because Charles wants to burn the image of Max all spaced out behind his eyes forever. And if Max starts crying out of pleasure, than that's an added bonus for him👀

I saw an ask game going around, where an option was to flip-flop a scene, so here you go anon! A tiny snippet of chapter 2 written from Charles’ perspective as a bonus :D Obvious nsfw under the cut.

“On your side,” Charles orders, his voice leaving no room for compromises.

“What are you going to do?” Max asks quietly, and his voice wavers, an unstable little thing. Delight curses through Charles’ veins at the reaction. He wants to bottle up those sounds so he can replay them all the time, the confident Max Verstappen reduced to a sweet kitty just by pushing a few of his buttons.

Before Charles can answer, Max gets up, wincing slightly.

Poor kitten. Kneeling for so long must have been horribly uncomfortable. Maybe he should have kept him on his knees for longer, just to see if Max would have complained eventually.

He doesn't know which outcome he would like to see more. Telling Max to close his eyes and stick his tongue out, patiently waiting for something that never comes, a fiery blush on his face. Or seeing the brat he knows is in there rise to the surface, trying to intimidate Charles with angry words that sound more like angry hisses from a kitten than being actually frightening. Maybe trying out a few punishments until Max becomes a blubbering mess, just because he can.

Charles' list of things he wants to do to Max keeps getting longer and longer.

But for now, he smiles and makes sure that the threat beneath it is visible. “I can’t fuck you, so I will simply fuck your pretty thighs instead. And you are not allowed to touch me or yourself. You either come because I let you, or not at all, baby.”

Max gapes at him like a fish out of water. Charles simply raises an eyebrow in response, keeping his mouth in a neutral line despite how much the grin on his face wants to form.

With a fresh rush of heat on his cheeks that makes him positively glow, Max slowly lies down on his side, facing the wall.

The sight of him lying there, embarrassed but still obedient, does horrible things to Charles. Makes him want to keep Max naked forever, collar and cat ears the only thing he's allowed to wear. Makes him desperate to figure out if the blush that's on his face and neck can go even further if he just keeps him worked up long enough.

The image of Max's flushed skin covered in hickeys and bruises enters his mind unbiddenly, and Charles bites his bottom lip so hard he almost draws blood. He wonders how long he could get away with toying with Max. Leave him aching and begging for Charles to touch him, and simply refusing it. Maybe Max will start crying if Charles doesn't let him come for hours.

Charles shakes his head to clear the thoughts. He must look ridiculous, but Max can't see him like this, so he doesn't care about his appearance for once.

He already has a plan laid out for today. There will be plenty more opportunities to drive Max crazy.

[1425fivefive]

1, 8, 10 and 12 on the WIP game <3

Omg thank you for the ask, I love talking about my fics!

Name of one your WIPs

"All Silhouettes and No Regrets" (Lestappen, getting back together)

Quick summary because I can't help myself: Max and Charles are in a relationship but break up before the start of the fic. They'd booked a vacation in Thailand prior to breaking up, and both of them decide separately to go on the vacation on the assumption that the other won't go. Cue getting back together feat. snorkeling, awkward couples' massages, and beach raves

Title is from "I Belong in Your Arms" by Chairlift

8. A scrapped idea for your current WIP

God there are so many. Here's a small scene from "Don't Want Your Sympathy, Just Your Company" that I scrapped (below the cut):

“I was thinking maybe we wouldn’t talk at all.”

Oscar doesn’t care that they’re in the middle of a bar, doesn’t care that Lando might be straight, doesn’t care that this will probably end with the worst heartbreak of his life. He feels like he’s on fire, like he’s never needed anything more than Lando’s lips on his.

As he’s leaning in, he hears an ear-piercing “KI-KI-KI” from across the bar.

Oscar pulls back, dropping his grip on Lando’s hip, and slams the back of his head against the wall. “Fucking, Daniel,” Oscar groans. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Lando adjusting his trousers—he’s gratified a bit, that Lando’s body must have liked whatever happened between them.

He looks over at where the “ki-ki-ki” came from to see Daniel stood in the doorway, waving at them enthusiastically, while Max seems to be trapped in an intense conversation with an elderly French man.

Oscar’s never been less excited to see two people in his life.

“I hate them,” Oscar says.

“Chill, mate,” Lando says. “They’re here for you, so you could try to be, you know, nice.”

“If they’re here for me, then can I ask them to go away?”

“Someone’s a brat when he’s cockblocked,” Lando says, and smacks Oscar in the dick. Not, like, hard enough to hurt, but enough for Oscar to be shocked. Oscar can hear Lando giggling as he makes his way across the bar.

10. How many WIPs are you actively working on?

Currently just two, I'm exercising an insane degree of self-control.

And tysm for the second kudos, it made my morning!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Link to WIP ask game!

[andydrysdalerogers]

To The Limit ~ Prologue

F1 Racer Johnny Storm x OFC Maya Levinson

Summary: He's been away from the sport for 2 years. He has 24 races to prove he belongs here. There are two things that could derail this: his family and her.

She's the one thing he is willing to push to the limit for.

This a sequel to my original story, "Following Team Orders" If you want to get caught up in my Formula One world, you can find it HERE

Future Warnings: references to a partner's death, cheating (but not by the MCs,) alcohol consumption, SMUT!, angst, racing incidents, language, grief, etc.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous Chapter: None!

Story Master List // Main Master List

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

End of Season Debrief 

Johnny 

Second.  

Second place again.  

Whose cock do I need to suck just to get to first? 

Not that I think the new champion did that. I would never say anything like that about her. Steve Rogers earned that second championship. He and I had fought hard this year for it and he just edged me out.  Considering his fiancé gave everything and almost stole this championship away. But its frustrating to be right there and miss it. He earned it, this championship. But I can’t help but think: when will it be mine? 

One would think that driving for Ferrari would me I would have the best car in the world. That I could win every race. I used to think that too.  But driving in Formula One is not just having the right equipment. You must have the right team with you as well.  

In the pit, they are top notch. No complaints.  

My team principal and my engineer, well, that’s a different story.  

I’ve been with Ferrari for the last five years. I’m supposed to be winning championships. This year is the closest I have been to the top. Next year, I can feel it.  I’ll get my chance.  

“Alright, everyone settle, down” the team Principal, Nick Fowler. “Let’s review the last race and then talk about what we could have changed.” 

“A lot,” I muttered under my breath. It was still caught by my best friend and fellow driver, Charles LeClerc. He sniggers under his breath before clearing his throat and starts to pay attention. Unfortunately, my mind wanders to the night before. Sitting at that bar with Luna (the name I’ve decided to call her because the moon gave her a halo effect. That and she never gave me her name) just talking and drinking. It had to have been one of the best nights of my life.  But she disappeared in the morning after we fell asleep in my room.  

“Storm!” My head snaps back up to see Nick glaring at me. Fuck how long was I zoned out. “I need to meet with you after this.”  

“Yes, sir.” His face looks pissed. Then again, Nick always looked pissed.   

The meeting dragged on and on. Finally, Nick wished everyone a “happy holidays” and then waved me forward. “Charles, I’ll see you in France, right?” 

“Bit of skiing should be fun.  See you after the new year, my friend.”  We hugged and then I made my way to my team principal’s office.  

“You wanted to speak with me, boss?” 

“Yeah, come on in.” Nick shuffled some paperwork on his desk as I sat in front of him. “I know you’ve been waiting to hear about a contract extension. And while we haven’t picked anyone else up, we have decided not to renew your contract.”  

I must be hearing things. Nick didn’t just say that. “What? What do you mean?” 

“I mean, we decided to go in a different direction. You’ve had five years at Ferrari to make something happen. Second place isn’t enough.” He looked at me with bored eyes.  

“What do you mean second isn’t enough?  That’s the best Ferrari has been in the last ten. I’ve been getting this team further and further ahead.” 

“And yet, you can’t get the prize.” Nick stood up. “I’m sorry but you’re out, Johnny.”  

I was fuming. “You’ll regret this, Nick. I will win a championship and it’ll be under someone else’s flag. “ 

“I seriously doubt that.”  

“Fuck you!”  I stormed out of his office and went to my driver room. I’ve been in this spot for seven years and I just wasted five with the biggest asshole since Lloyd Hansen.  At least at Mercedes, with Hansen, they won championships. I started to pack up my stuff. I left most of my Ferrari gear. Just taking the things Charles had signed for me and some mementos from races I had one. My mind was swirling, I have no ride. I have no job for the next year. I sent a text to my agent to let him know what happened.  

I looked around the room one last time. As I stood there, a knock came to the door. I went to open it and was shocked to see Molly standing in front of me. “Molly?” I hadn’t seen her since our tryst a couple of months ago. She worked for Red Bull with Olivia, which was how I met her. After our night together, she told me she couldn’t do anything serious now, with the championship race being very tight.  I lost to Olivia’s fiancé but had beaten Olivia by only five points. She was good for a first time driver with Mercedes.  

“Hi Johnny, can we talk?” 

“Sure.” I let her into the room. “Sorry it's a mess but I .. was packing up for the end of the season.” I couldn’t tell her I just lost my ride. At least not yet.  

“Oh.” She looked around, stalling from the look of it.  

“Everything ok?” She looked pale and nervous.  

“No,” she shook her head. “I need to tell you something.” 

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

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@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

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[f1crecs]

'Megaverse Monday - Week five

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did you know that this fandom has one of the highest percentages of a/b/o content? join us as we celebrate the fandom’s incredible omegaverse works every ’megaverse monday. 🤍

Logan/Oscar

nsfw: this is your life, don't play hard to get by @nothingelsematterswrites | E | 79.8k

Regency AU in which Oscar is the adopted omega son of alpha Mark Webber (who is in a closeted relationship with alpha David Coulthard). Oscar must marry and produce an heir in order to secure his future. Mark arranges a match with Logan, the second son of an American family.

What I liked about it: This fic is delightful, leaning into a number of my favourite tropes, especially arranged marriage and found family. Oscar is less than enthused about Logan to begin with. Poor Logan is head over heels for Oscar almost immediately. I also love the Webber household dynamics. Mark is a wonderful father (as is David, behind the scenes) and Logan, who is from a far less loving family, gains the affection and parental support he didn’t even know he was missing.

“And that will mean,” Mark’s tone was warm and teasing, “that there must be no more late-night visits, at least for now.” Oscar sat up, all trace of sleepiness evaporating in panic. “What?” His heart was pounding. His father knew? If his father knew, others might know. He could not have word getting out, he could not afford rumours to start – “Calm yourself, Oscar,” Mark soothed. “I am not upset.” “How - ” Oscar could barely speak through his panic. “How did you - ” Mark’s expression was amused. “You say you have known since you were twelve the truth of what lies between David and I, and yet you have never seen me go to my bedchamber with him; how do you think he comes to my room? He saw Logan the very first night. He is the only other who knows.”

Pierre/Yuki

baby, baby, can you hear me calling out your name? by yukierres | M | 7.6k

This fic is set a few years into the future. Pierre is an omega, a fact he conceals from almost everyone other than Charles, Esteban and his doctors. Yuki is an alpha, now well established at Mercedes, and Pierre has been attracted to him for years. Pierre is caught unawares by an early, intense heat and in confusion and distress he instinctively calls Yuki.

What I liked about it: I just love the relationship here. Yuki is calm and kind in the face of Pierre’s distress and anxiety, and Pierre finds support where he didn’t expect to find it. Pierre is very much in his own head about his omega status and he’s overdue to let someone in.

Fuck, his secret is out too. He can feel the anxiety and panic rising up through him, his body shutting down as he starts hyperventilating at the thought. What does he do now? He has kept it hidden for so long, and he has one moment of weakness and it was all for nothing. What if Yuki says something? He could lose his seat, his career - merde! The tears flow thick and fast, the sobs hiccuping out of his system as he starts to mourn the loss of everything already, too stressed out to notice the figure entering the room and sitting down at the end of the bed, a strong hand reaching out and resting on his ankles, a comforting weight that wakes him up to reality. “Yuki!,” he exclaims with a strangled cry, crawling up to the pillows, dragging the duvet with him to cover his modesty, or whatever is left of it. God, Yuki came and saw him like that. Did Yuki – ? His clothes from before are still all on and sweat-damp, it doesn’t feel like someone removed them at any point. He wouldn’t, would he? Yuki would never do that, he has always been so respectful to everyone around him, omega or not. He instinctively knows he never would touch him without consent, and trusts him wholeheartedly. “Yuki, please - please -, I am so sorry, merde! Mon Dieu! Please, you have to forgive - please don’t say anything -” he stumbles out, a wrangled confused mess of speech falling from his lips in panic. "Pierre," he says and it's so full of kindness that Pierre is bewildered by it, silencing him momentarily to stare back at him “I made you some tea? Do you feel well enough to drink it?”

Charles/Pierre

blueprint by ions | M | 1.9k

Charles has always thought he's a beta, but then he suddenly presents as an omega, and there's only one alpha he wants. The "thought I was a beta, until..." trope is one of my personal favourites for omegaverse, and it's captured perfectly for Piarles in this fic. I love the way this fic paints such a vivid picture of the omegaverse F1 world, and the detail it builds into the characterisation and worldbuilding. The writing style is toned-down but so very effective, and this author captures the nuances of Pierre and Charles' relationship in a way that's truly beautiful. I still think of some of the lines in this fic as cornerstones for characterisation of the Piarles dynamic!

Pierre looks surprised for a split-second, like Charles isn't spread out beneath him. Like he hasn't just needed to ask this whole time. Pierre nods, brow furrowed like it always does when he's bothered with something, whether it was an issue with the karts as kids or more political in-fighting from inside Red Bull. Charles can't help but reach out and gently touch the skin there, Pierre's face finally relaxing. "Please," Charles says again. He hates how whiny it comes out, like a little kid tugging his big brother's sleeve again. When Pierre had jumped to single-seaters early, Charles hated being just Pierre's little friend when he went to the races. Charles doesn't know why. He has always been Pierre's.

thanks to @lydia-petze and @singsweetmelodies for compiling this weeks list! 🤍

[elisysd]

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

I need your grace To remind me To find my own

Shocked by the violence of the crash, Lyanna, Joris and the entire Ferrari team were slow to react and understand what had just happened. Not a sound could be heard in the garage. The car was completely overturned, Max's had just gone off the track and he was angrily climbing out of his car, only to see the red Ferrari several metres away. And that's when everyone seemed to suddenly realize what had just happened. Lyanna felt Joris's hand on her shoulder pulling her into a corner away from the screens. And that's when she snapped out of her slumber.

“Charles… It’s Charles’ car. Oh my god.” She said trying to process the crash.

“He is fine Lyanna” Joris tried to reassure her, but the young woman detected the doubt in his voice. He was trying to reassure himself too.

As he tried to pull her aside, she struggled to free herself from his grip and moved towards the screens, hoping to see some sign of life from Charles. But nothing was on. The red flag had obviously been declared and all the cars were returning to their pits. All around her everyone was busy, and in the distance, at the edge of the track where the engineers and Fred were, she could see the team principal talking frantically into his headset. Without thinking, and not caring about the cameras in the area, she ran towards him, while Joris tried to hold her back. She could feel tears of panic stinging her eyes and her vision was blurred. She didn't know how, but her trembling legs managed to carry her to the track.

“Fred! Fred! Is he okay? Please tell me he is okay!” she asked as her throat burned and she felt like she was suffocating.

When she saw him looking at her with sadness, she felt as if the ground was caving in beneath her feet. She wobbled and was barely caught by Fred, who forced her to sit down beside him.

“I don’t know Lyanna. I don’t know. He is not answering his radio.”

“What are people doing? Why is no one helping him?” she was crying and he swore that Fred was about to as well.

“They are cautious. Listen, Charles is a fighter, I’m sure is okay.”

“You don’t know that. He could be dying for fuck sake!” she was screaming and crying at the same time.

Fred took off his headset and handed it to him.

“Try to talk to him. Maybe you’ll have more luck than me.”

She knew he didn't believe it. No more than she did, but he also knew that the young woman needed something to hold on to so as not to lose her mind. Trembling, she took hold of the headset and fitted it over her ears. Fred pressed the button and nodded to her, indicating that if Charles's radio was still working, he could hear her.

“Charles… my love. It’s me. Please, if you can hear me, if you can talk let us know you are okay. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I just can’t. I need you. I need your voice, I need your arms, I need to hear your laugh and see you smile. I need you to be goofy and to annoy me again. I need your love. I need you to be able to function. Come back to me. Just come home. Come home to me. Please.”

But all she could hear on the other side of the line was white noise.

It only took five minutes for the race marshals to come to the track with an ambulance and firemen to free the car and Charles, but it seemed like an eternity to everyone. No one was allowed through and the crash had happened too far from the pits for anyone to see anything. Meanwhile, Lyanna had been given a bottle of water and a blanket so that she could calm down, which she was unable to do. Not far from her, Joris was on the phone with Charles's mother. Lyanna thought of Pascale and how she must have felt when she saw the images on television. Her heart sank and she felt an overwhelming urge to throw up.

And finally, she spotted Fred in her line of vision running towards her, Andrea close behind.

“Charles is alive.” Was his first words to her. “We just had the medics.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and tears began to roll down her cheeks again. Andrea stooped down and took her in his arms, helping her to stand on her own two feet. Fred waved to Joris to come closer.

“He is alive, but is he okay?”

“He has been taken to the hospital. You and Joris should go, I think he will need you. Don’t worry about the rest, we will be fine.”

“Thank you, Fred. Thank you so much.”

Joris took her by the hand and led her through the back of the paddock away from the crowds to the car park and Charles' Ferrari, the one they had arrived in this morning when everything was still going well. Joris started the engine and they headed to the hospital.

“He is okay Lyanna. He is going to make it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He is a fighter. Everything will be fine.”

The long white corridors of the hospital made Lyanna want to flee. She hated hospitals, which brought back bad memories. So she let Joris speak.

“Mr Leclerc is fine. Just a broken wrist and ribs. He is lucky. The halo definitely saved him but he can say goodbye to the end of the season. He won’t be able to race until next year.” Told them the doctor.

“Can we see him?” asked Lyanna.

“Not more than one person and not for long. He is under morphine right now and he needs to rest.”

“Will you be able to organize a transfer for him in Monaco so he could be with his loved ones? I’m asking for his mother.” said Joris.

“Not tomorrow but I see if it will be possible in a few days, or weeks.”

“Thank you. Lyanna you should go, I’m going to call back Pascale.”

She nodded and she walked towards the door of the hospital room. The sight of Charles on the bed broke her heart a little more and she struggled to suppress a sob. His face was covered in bruises and scratches. Cautiously she approached the bed and sat down on the edge of it, afraid of hurting him more if she came any closer.

“Lyanna…” he called for her groggily.

“I’m here. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I thought I was going to lose you. In that car. It was so dark. I thought that it was over for me.”

“Shh… you need to rest. You don’t have to speak.”

“I heard you; you know. On the radio. But I could not speak back. It was not working. I’m sorry Lyanna. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just glad you are okay. So glad and relieved. Everyone was scared.”

She could see a tear rolling on his cheek. She reached out and gently touched Charles's face, making him wince in pain.

“Lya, who won?”

“Of course, that would be the first thing you ask… I don’t know Charles and really, I don’t care. The only thing I care about is you and how you feel. Do you need something? Water, nurses?”

“You. Just you.”

She stayed with Charles until one of the nurses told her that visits were over and then again, she was reluctant to leave him. She kissed him on the forehead where he was not too bruised and promised him to be there first thing in the morning.

It’s when she got back to their shared hotel room after Joris dropped her off, that the events of the day began to sink in and she fully realized what happened. It was like a tidal wave overwhelming her and suffocating her until she could not breathe anymore.  She collapsed on the floor and let the tears escape from her throat. On her knees, she picked up her phone and dialled her mother's number.

“Lyanna? Darling? What is happening? Do you know what time it is?” her mother answered half asleep.

“Mom… Charles… he crashed. He is in the hospital.”

“Where are you?” her mother asked her, worried.

“In our hotel room. It was so scary. I thought I lost him.”

“Oh my Lyanna… but he is okay, right?”

“Yeah thankfully. He won’t be able to race for the remaining of the season but it could have been worse.”

“And you, are you okay?”

“I’m better now that I saw him but… it was a lot of stress and Ferrari wants us to play happy couple for their cameras and I’m also stressed because the New York interview has not been published yet and I talked about James in it and I don’t know how he is going to react or even if he will react. They are so many things going on. It’s a lot.”

“Can I ask you something darling?” asked her mother cautiously. “Is your relationship with Charles worth what you are putting you through? All the stress and anxiety, is it worth it? I’m scared for you darling.”

“I love him mom” justified Lyanna.

“And it makes me happy you are learning to love again. I’m just wondering if you would not be better with someone with more stability in his life. I looked him up online and I saw things that make me wonder if he is the right person for you…”

“You don’t know him like I do mom.”

“You said that about James too and look where you ended up. I’m not saying that Charles is like him. I’m just scared for you.”

“You don’t have too. Wait until you meet him and you’ll see by yourself how great he is for me.”

“I trust you then. Take care of you Lyanna. Really.”

Later that night, Charles's car crash came back to haunt Lyanna's dreams. So much so that it is an exhausted Lyanna who walked through the doors of the hospital in the early hours of the morning and showed up to see Charles. The doctor had just finished examining him and told him that the 2023 season was over for him. He was therefore in a very bad mood.

“How do you expect to drive a car with broken ribs and wrist, Charles?”

“I’m just saying that maybe I don’t need to miss all the races. Just one or two. It seems excessive to me.”

“Have you ever had broken ribs Charles? Because I did and it hurts like hell and takes up so much time to heal. I’m relieved you are going back to Monaco soon so you can rest properly.”

“You don’t understand Lya, racing is my life. I’m good to nothing if I’m not racing!”

“You’ll survive! I prefer to have you home where I can take care of you than out there and risking to never see you again.”

“Crashes happen. And it looked way worse than it was in reality. I’m fine. Look.”

He tried to sit up on his bed before wincing in pain and giving up.

“Sure, you look absolutely fine. I understand your frustration but it’s just four races and it’s not like you were battling for the championship. And you will be home.”

“Are you staying with me?”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again, Leclerc. I’m going to stick to you like glue.”

“I guess that having you as my personal nurse is not a bad thing…” he confessed sheepishly.

She spent the day with him. And the next and the one after that too. True to her promise, she never left his side. Even though he spent a lot of time sleeping because of the medication, she preferred to be close to him. It reassured her. When he was asleep, she took the opportunity to call Pascale and give her a detailed report on Charles's condition. Even though Charles often had his mother on the phone, he preferred to pretend he was fine so as not to worry her. Pascale, knowing her son, quickly changed her mind and preferred to get information from Lyanna. At least the accident had done some good; it had brought the two women closer together. And that put a smile on Charles' face.

It was a beautiful afternoon when she got an unexpected call from her agent while Charles was asleep.

“Sophia? What’s up?” she whispered as she was leaving the room to take the call outside and not wake him up.

“Lyanna, the New York interview was released yesterday, I don’t know if you had time to check it out. I know you are busy with Charles.”

“No I didn’t. What do people say about it?”

“Mainly positive things. How brave you were to speak up and how Hollywood should be ashamed to have dropped you. But it’s not why I call.”

“What is wrong?” asked Lyanna, hearing her agent's serious voice.

“James has decided to sue you for defamation.”

=====================

author's note: After the cliffhanger of last chapter I couldn't leave you like that. Still a cliffhanger though but a less painful one. And see that as a celebration of Charles' P2 woohoo. Let's hope for a clean race on Sunday. As usual, do not hesitate to leave your thoughts in the comments / ask box / DM, it supports the author!

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[effervescentdragon]

Piarles / coffee shop au ☕️

Este elbows him in passing with his unnaturally long arms, almost making Pierre drop the carton of oat milk he is carrying. He would have, if he wasn't such a good barista.

"What the fuck?" Pierre hisses. Este, the fuck, doesn't stop grinning.

"Your Fancy-Pants Chai Latte is here," he sing-songs the last word. Pierre can hear the capitalisation clearly, and he barely restrains the urge to turn around immediately. He knows that if he does it, Este will win. Fuck that.

"His name is Charles," he replies. Before he can add anything else, Este elbows him again, taking the boxes from him and pushing him back to the register in a surprisingly agile manouver for someone who looks like a praying mantis on a good day and like Slenderman on a bad one. Pierre goes, because he isn't in the mood to start a fight with Este. Besides, he's pretty sure they're both on thin ice with Otmar, and they both need this job, no matter how shitty it is. Neither of their scholarships covers everything they need. If they did, neither of them would be working in Alpine Caffe. Needs must, though, or whatever the saying is.

"Hello," he says with a wide smile that is, for once, genuine, and not his customer-service smile. It's hard not to be genuine around Charles for Pierre.

"Hello, Pierrot," Charles says, and the dimple in his cheek is as distracting as ever. "How have you been?"

Pierre shrugs. "Good. Studying, working, same old. How's your finals going?"

Charles groans, and Pierre laughs to cover up the instinctive reaction that groan gives him. "That bad, huh?"

Charles groans again. Pierre narrows his eyes, but Charles says "Don't ask, please. Professor Vettel is set to kill us, I am sure."

"So dramatic, Charlo." Pierre chuckles. "Medieval German literature isn't as interesting as you thought?"

"You know I only took the course because I had to." Charles pouts, and Pierre wants to sink his teeth in that full lower lip.

"You could have taken Intro to Economics," he says instead, then laughs at the utter betrayal on Charles' face. "I'm joking, cher. I would never be so cruel to suggest that for you, knowing what I know about your math skills." That makes Charles smile, and Pierre feels satisfaction in his very core at making Charles smile. "What will it be today? The usual?" Charles nods, and Pierre rings up the order, then busies himself with making Charles' drink.

The whole time he works, he feels Charles' eyes on his back. He imagines Charles checking him out, and many other things he really shouldn't be thinking about at work. He imagines the touch or the rings on Charles' fingers on his skin and wonders if they'd be cold, or warmed by Charles' body heat. He wonders how Charles' mouth tastes right now. He thinks of many things as he adds oat milk into the Chai Latte, and puts it on the counter with a smile.

"One extra large Chai Latte with extra espresso shot and oat milk. That will be 3.98. Anything else?"

Charles' eyes flash mischievously, but he only says "Thank you, Pear" sweetly and pushes a five at Pierre. "Keep the change," he says, and fails to wink, and then he's walking through the almost-empty caffee and out the door. Pierre watches him go, eyes firmly set below Charles' waist.

"You know that order is worth double what you charged him, right? Or are your math skills as bad as his supposedly are?"

"Fuck off, Esteban," Pierre says, refusing to blush. Este laughs from somewhere on the left.

"When are you finally going to ask him out? He's definitely interested. I don't know what you're waiting for."

The group of around seven giggling girls bursting through the door saves Pierre from having to answer Esteban's question. It's an old argument for them, which started the first time Charles stumbled into the caffee, wet from the rain outside and more beautiful than Pierre could have ever imagined a person to be, and started speaking in soft, accented English. Pierre recognized the accent, and switched to French, and the way Charles' eyes lit up and the way he switched into their mothertongue with excitement and relief was still one of Pierre's favourite memories.

Pierre can hear Esteban sigh as the girls approach the counter. "You're a fool," he says and pats Pierre's shoulder.

Pierre doesn't bother replying. Instead, he fixes his customer service smile on his face firmly, and prepares himself for half a dozen fancy, almost impossible orders.

--

The mouth underneath his tastes of watermelon and sweat. It's a singularly appealing taste to Pierre.

"You vaped again," he murmurs into the kiss, and Charles bites his lip in retaliation. "Oh, you'll pay for that."

Charles' eyes are live fire, his cheeks are flushed, and his arms and legs are wrapped tightly around Pierre's body. He stretches, pressing his whole body agains Pierre's. His necklaces are as warm as he is, and Pierre's cross ends up tangled in them. It feels appropriate.

"That's what I'm counting on," Charles says, and Pierre wants to say too many too truthful things, things he can see reflected in Charles' eyes. He doesn't, though. It's not the time.

Instead, he lowers his body over Charles', and he takes Charles' lower lip in between his own, and he pushes inside, and he swallows all of Charles' moans, and all of Charles' whimpers, and all of Charles' breaths.

[bibereangelum]

on Scott and Xavier.

I think three things when I think abt Charles and Scott's relationship and it's the "But Lucier was an angel too" line from AVX and the panels where Charles realizes just how badly he's failed Scott in Prelude to Schism. And also the line from Xmen 1991 #53. What intrigues me abt their relationship is that Charles has both saved Scott and also royally fucked him over and he acknowledges that in prelude to schism. Granted- not out loud to anyone but himself. Prelude to schism also! Highlights the fact that their bond is that of father and son. (Or at the very least, Charles views Scott as a son and I could debate Scott never viewing himself as anyone's child but that's for a different day.) Which is interesting 2 me again because there is that like... several month long period before Bobby where it's just Scott and Charles and I think about what that must have been like regularly. But it's important that Charles directly saves Scott from an abusive situation. I think in general Charles does surround himself with other people he can identify with because he is such a private and reserved person if that makes... any sense at all? I guess. In that regard though. He is constantly pushing Scott to be better, not just better towards humans but better than his peers. Scott has to be in control, he can't let his guard down, he is the leader, that's what he has to be. That's what Charles teaches him. It isn't even really (imo) empowerment through his mutation, it's empowerment through control. Because like... imagine being 15, with powers you can't control when everyone else can control theirs, and you're told: "No, you will not fight the weaker person even if they call you freak because you need to be in control at all times." and we see how this impacts Scott via.... every comic with Scott in it ever. And what gets me in PS1 is that we see 15 year old Scott talking back a little, we see and hear his frustrations. He's even! a little rebellious, staring up at the sky with his beams going when he knows he's not supposed to. Scott shifts from 15 year old kid to The man for the job. His role is to be strong via his control in himself and his control around others.

This kind of stands in juxtaposition imo with like... referencing X-Men movies here, the way that Erik often tells Charles that he could literally change the whole world's minds about mutants if he so wishes, he is powerful enough to do so. But Charles doesn't because morals and doing what's right SLASH exercising the control necessary to be perceived as 'not threat' by humanity. His control is needed, otherwise the idea of coexisting with humans is threatened.This leads me to the line in X-Men 91 #53 in regards to Scott "He hasn’t had an independent thought since he was fifteen. He has no will of his own." Which like in regards to Scott's backround b4 Charles even gets him. Scott is a perpetual victim of circumstance up until he starts being an X-Men.

I can talk a lot about Scott's lack of mental boundaries for ages but tbh. Scott doesn't have boundaries in general because he's never been told he should have them but that IS a subject for another time bc it also interests me the level of shit Scott takes (especially from Alex but again, subject for another time.) But Scott takes in, performs, and enacts Charles will via becoming an X-Men. He is the poster boy, the stick in the mud leader, the guy who doesn't know how to have fun. Because he has to be the man for the job. He has to be in control (like Xavier) at ALL times.

Also smthn to note about Scott as well is that Scott is like nigh incapable of doing any kind of introspection on himself. He acts a certain way, gets embarrassed and berates himself for being the way he is, and listen. Scott does not like himself! He doesn't understand why he acts the way he acts and he doesn't understand why other people don't like him when he's doing what he's told. He wants to be normal, he wants what other people have so badly. but he can't. Because he, like Xavier, has to be the man for the job.

And I think Scott's: "But Lucifer was an angel too." line in AvX is so.. raw, that entire monologue is so raw because it's Scott at his worst. It's Scott losing control but it's also Scott basically saying. "No, fuck you. This time I'm going to punch the people calling me freak, I'm tired of being the one in control" And it's explosive obviously bc he got the Phoenix in his brain or whatever. But it's also the height of Scott during what I'd call a severe mental breakdown. Not to mention he does in fact kill Charles during this. But the line effectively says: "You have created me, told me what to do, and I have done what you asked. And now you are going to damn what you have created." But it's also like. Digging into angel bullshit Lucifer is the light-bringer/truth bringer, So Scott is effectively saying: I am literally ushering the world into a new era (WHICH HE IS TECHNICALLY SUCCESFUL AT AS THIS EVENT DOES BRING ABOUT NEW MUTANTS LMAO) , like you told me to, and you want me to stop????? You want me to stop doing the thing you created me for???? I could think and talk about Scott identifying with Lucifer for wAY too fucking long. So I'll cut it short with this: Scott killing Charles, albeit not on his own volition, is a way of saying "You don't get to control what I do anymore. I'm taking the power you promised me and using it to show you what went wrong."

[cupidskissx]

PROMPT!

“I swear I’m over you, but if you ever do shit like that again, you’re going to set me back to square one.”

with lestappen. duh. 😇

The spin off to @xiaoluclair’s original Spy AU that I finally got a chance to edit to fit this prompt! 🥰🥷

~ 1.3k

“I was making croissants, do you realise how much effort goes into that?” Charles shakes his head, “You pick the worst times to pull this shit,” he tsks as he struggles to unties the thick knots.

Max’s arms are twisted behind his back, linked around a pipe, his wrists bound together. His torso is also tied to the pipe keeping him propped upright. His captors must have learnt from their precious mistake because Max’s ankles are quadruple knotted to the pipe opposite him. Charles’ eyes flick up to the staircase every so often as he works to loosen the first knot that ties his knees together.

“I would have figured out a way to escape.”

“Yeah right, that’s why you doubled texted...”

“I didn’t think you’d see them.”

Max had sent the messages to Charles via their old voice-to-text software embedded into an advanced AI application. The one they used to use to send encrypted sexts to each other when they were dating and posted long distance.

Charles should have turned off his notifications, or better yet, deleted the app months ago, but now’s not the time to think about why he hasn’t, so he just says, “You’re an idiot!”

“You’re not too bright yourself, coming here alone,” Max scolds, “You should have called for backup.”

“They’d only get in the way and make this harder than it already is, stop moving, would you?”

“It fucking tickles, mate,” Max grumbles as Charles keeps accidentally tickling the backs of his knees.

“Oh no,” Max’s genuine dismay causes Charles to look up. Max’s face has contorted into something anguished.

“What? What is it?” Charles asks, checking him over, then looking towards the staircase. They’re still alone in the dank cellar.

“That buzzing noise, it’s the 10 second warning before they blare the most horrific alarm.”

Max isn’t one to exaggerate, he says it how it is and that’s it. Therefore, Charles believes him that this is no small thing. “It’s gone off at least 15 times. Trust me, block your ears.”

Charles shuffles up towards the pipe, pressing his knees into the side of his hip as he leans in.

“What are you d—”

Max falls quiet when Charles cups his ears just in time before that alarm sounds. He can only imagine it’s similar to standing directly under an air raid siren, he flinches, eyes squinting at the intensity of it.

Max tries to pull away, saying something that Charles can’t hear.

“Stop that!” Charles yells, even he can’t hear it.

Max shrugs violently, trying to free himself from Charles’ hands.

“I said stop,” Charles says in earnest and Max gives him an imploring look like he wants Charles to cover his own ears, and that sets those stupid butterflies off. They quickly migrate to be replaced by frustration when Max tries, yet again, to free himself.

Charles resorts to the one thing that he knows will stun him. He leans all the way in, keeping his ears blocked as he kisses him.

That does the trick, Max goes stiff as a board, Charles tries not to smile, adding more pressure for added effect. He isn’t overly surprised when Max kisses him back, but he didn’t expect it to be so hungry! Max kisses like he’s been starved, and it makes Charles’ stomach churn with want and guilt and forgiveness. Why the fuck did they give up on this?

It takes them both a moment to realise the siren has stopped. Max is the first to pull away, cheeks a touch pink. He clears his throat and can’t quite meet Charles’ eye. Charles moves his hands down to his shoulders.

“For the record?” Charles’ voice is distant through the ringing in his ears.

Max takes a breath before meeting his eye.

“I am over you.”

Max snorts, “I can’t say I believe that anymore.”

“But—“ Charles continues, “if you keep pulling shit like this,” he gestures in a sweeping motion up and down his body, “You’re going to give me a hero complex and set me back to square one.”

Max is silent for a long moment.

“Square one is pretty cozy,” Max’s expression is blasé but the way his Adam’s apple bobs gives away his trepidation.

Charles, try as he might, he is unable to prevent his eyebrows from twitching up and his lips from parting. It takes a beat too long to finds his voice, “Is it now?”

“Yeah, it is. You should come over tomorrow night, to talk and stuff.”

Charles was not expecting Max to pivot so sharply, like usual he’s compelled to fight and catch up. “And stuff?”

“And stuff,” Max emphasises, his desire unbridled for the first time in months.

“I’m a very busy man, I might get called out to save another inept colleague.”

“Do you go around kissing the rest of the team as part of a rescue mission?”

“Only the ones I know will kiss me back,” Charles teases.

“You realise the whole team has thought about making out with you a least once, yeah?” Max laughs.

“Fine, the only one I want to kiss me back, then. Better?” The words are out of his mouth before he realises. There’s no point taking them back now.

“Eh, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Charles leans in again, slowly this time.

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” Max tilts his head, “Untie me first then maybe I’ll consider slipping my tongue into your mouth as a little thank you.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “Now you’ve gone and made it gross,” Charles huffs, and because he loves to test the limits he glides his hands down his arms, moving into him until their chests are practically flush, his fingers finding the knots binding his wrists together. Charles can’t see anything but the pipe at this angle so he closes his eyes and rests his face against the side of Max’s head.

Max has gone very quiet while Charles diligently unties him.

“Everything okay?” Charles mocks him like his own heart isn’t pounding in his chest.

“Yeah,” Max whispers. “You’re making this very difficult, is all.”

“Good,” Charles whispers.

“Charles,” Max is stern, like he means it, bringing home the fact they have a lot they need to talk about, and this is not something they should joke about.

“I know, sorry,” Charles presses his face a bit more against Max’s head in apology.

Charles manages to free Max’s hands, he helps to bring his arms back around without twinging any of his muscles. Charles rubs his red raw wrists for a moment before looping his arms back around him to untie his torso.

Max ends up circling his arms around Charles’ waist, holding him closer, and if that doesn’t set his skin on fire nothing else will.

He fumbles over the knots a few times. “There,” he says eventually, triumphant as the rope loosens. “Now you can finish untying your knees and I’ll work on this,” Charles goes to shuffle over to where his ankles are tied to the other pipe but he doesn’t get very far. He’s pulled into a toe curling kiss that Max is pouring a hell of a lot of effort and gratitude into.

“Okay, okay,” Charles taps his shoulder, and Max lets up, “Don’t wear yourself out. Plenty of time for that later,” Charles promises, pressing a swift kiss to his lips and moving down to free him.