#que she did The Thing

[besosaboraluna]

i literally only had ONE bite out of my bday cake

[artdcnaldson]

changeover || art donaldson x reader ; patrick zweig x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex x2, fingering, f!recieving oral), drinking, pining after people you can’t have, a dash of reader x tashi, sprinkles of patrick x art, porn WITH plot

Summary: your ‘casual’ fling with art isn’t working for you anymore, which sucks because you probably love the guy. enter a freshly heartbroken patrick to take your mind off of things.

FALL 2006

You knew exactly why Art Donaldson refused to acknowledge that you were an item. You could see it clearly across the room— the way you were cast to the shadows while he followed Tashi around like a lost puppy.  

It made sense, even if it made your chest ache. Tashi was gorgeous, and was acing her classes, and was going to go pro soon and become a beautiful, all-American sports icon. And you were just some girl he’d met because he needed help understanding the reading for class. 

You’d known each other for months by then— hooking up, going on dates that ‘weren’t dates,’ spending most of your time together. And you stayed firmly in the no-labels zone. But you weren’t bitter. It was totally fine, being treated like a girlfriend in all but name. 

Art laughed and leaned into Tashi. It was totally fine.

You were nursing a beer in a red solo cup and trying your best to look friendly and approachable. The only reason you were even at the party was because Art had brought you, so you should’ve felt grateful. You should’ve been having fun.

But just as soon as you’d arrived, he’d slipped away with a promise to be right back. It had been over an hour, so it seemed like you had very different definitions of right back.

“Looks like your boyfriend stole my girlfriend.” You turned to see Patrick, tanned from his time on tour. He was only going to be at Stanford for the weekend before taking off for a challenger a state over, which meant he needed to capitalize on any chance to spend time with Art and Tashi. 

Unfortunately, you’d both been ditched.

“Art isn’t my boyfriend,” you said pointedly, maybe a little too quickly. 

Patrick knew better. The last time he came to visit, he’d interrupted a pseudo date night between the two of you (which was a nice way of saying he walked in on the two of you in Art’s dorm while his best friend was was knuckles deep in you). The rest of that night wound up being spent passing around mixed drinks made with cheap vodka and whatever you could get from the nearest vending machine. You overheard the it’s casual, nothing serious conversation they’d had through the ajar door while you bought more Powerade and Red Bull in the hall. 

But you were being so understanding and cool about that. 

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly. “Really?” The corner of his mouth tugged upwards for a moment before he wrapped his lips around a beer can. He tried to hide it, but you saw. 

You chewed on your lip, stomach twisting with nerves and curiosity. He was probably just messing with you, trying to get your thoughts all muddled up about Art because it was fun. Still, you couldn’t help but ask the burning question echoing through your mind. “Did Art say something to you? About us, I mean.”

The question felt pathetic. A stupid, desperate girl begging to know if the guy she liked felt the same way. 

Patrick shrugged, leaning against the wall bearing the portraits of the ghosts of frat brothers’ past. “Not directly. But you’re here together, right? And he’s still seeing you.”

“I guess,” you replied with a huff, embarrassment burning hot in your chest. 

“If you’re worried about Tashi, don’t be,” Patrick said, sparing a glance in her direction. When you looked towards Art, and the way he was smiling and laughing and looked so natural beside her, a frown turned your lips. Patrick nudged your arm and offered a smile. “Hey, I’m serious. Nothing’s gonna happen there. Trust me.”

It should’ve felt nice. A total reassurance from the person who knew Art best. But it did nothing to quell the turmoil twisting in the pit of your stomach. Because if he really did feel that way, why was he over there with her?

Tashi Duncan. So beautiful, radiant, and perfect that she had total control over two men. Your paths didn’t cross much, outside of Art, and that was rare since he liked to keep you two apart. 

But there was a part of you that knew that Tashi would’ve been able to make you melt with one look, one smile, one word. You wanted to experience what Art did. You wanted to know what Patrick knew, and what Art was jealous of. Or maybe you wanted something of your own too, something to keep Art out of. 

“I need another drink,” you said suddenly, meeting Patrick’s gaze. “Do you wanna come with me?” Patrick’s eyes flitted quickly towards Tashi, where she bantered with Art and the rest of the tennis team. 

There was something in his expression you found incredibly familiar. That pang of jealousy. The ache of not belonging just right. The look was gone quickly, replaced by a toothy smile. “Sure. I could use something stronger.”

——

An hour later, Tashi left with Patrick, and Art quickly decided to take you back to his own dorm. 

His lips were insistent against yours, kissing you hungrily, completely dissonant to the delicate way he tugged down the zipper of your dress. His fingers were warm where they brushed along the line of your spine. His tongue brushed against yours, tasting of beer and mint gum.

“What were you doing with him?” He murmured against your lips just as he peeled off the cheap, bodycon dress you’d gotten from Forever 21. It was tossed across the room, to be lost in the mess of practice duffles and empty water bottles and dirty laundry. The only time he parted his lips from you was to lift you onto his bed and slot himself between your thighs. 

His tongue licked into your mouth possessively, claiming you as his from the inside out. You gasped as one of his hands kneaded your breast, panting open-mouthed against his lips. “Who?” You managed weakly, your mind completely blank except for Art, Art, Art. And maybe a tiny voice in the back of your head that was still thinking about the Tashi of it all.

“Patrick.” His voice was soft against the tender skin of your jaw. “I saw you two talk, then you disappeared for, like, an hour.” His teeth nipped gently at your pulse point as he nuzzled against your throat, awaiting your answer. 

So he had been watching? He was with her, but he was still thinking about you. It made your heart flutter. You moaned softly as his hand slid between your thighs, teasing you through your panties. “Getting drinks,” you managed feebly. “Fuck, Art, I can’t concentrate while y—“

You gasped at the feeling of his fingers slipping beneath the band of your panties, teasing you with delicate touches. “Just drinks? For an hour?”

A strangled gasp escaped you as fingers slick with your arousal met your clit. When your eyes opened in surprise, you found Art staring right back. His touch was relentless, flooding your senses with pleasure as he demanded an answer. “We were in the living room,” you managed between soft pants and moans. “He was telling me about the— god— about the tour.”

Art’s expression flickered slightly— a tiny furrow forming between his brows. Was it doubt, or possessiveness, or anger? Before you could figure it out, his lips were against your throat, your panties were pushed to the side, and he was easing two fingers inside of your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried out, grasping onto his shoulders. French manicured nails scratched at the pastel-colored polo he wore— why was he still wearing his clothes? Soft, keening moans slipped past your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. Every thought of him preferring Tashi or him leading you on slipped from the front of your mind as his thumb rubbed at your clit.

With a free hand, you palmed him over his pants, relishing in the way he panted against your warm skin. You made quick work of the button of his jeans— you knew your way around him like the back of your hand. He was warm, pulsing in your delicate grip when your hand slipped beneath the band of his briefs. Slick at his tip with need. 

He moaned against your pulse point, nuzzling against you as you began to jerk him off in time with each pump of his fingers. 

“You smell like him,” he groaned, nose pressed to the spot just beneath your ear as his hips bucked into your fist with a new sort of desperation. You didn’t have to ask who he meant. His tongue slipped out, lapping at you briefly before sucking a bruise into the delicate skin there. 

His fingers flexed so they brushed against the sweet spot within you. Your eyes rolled back and a sob of pleasure clawed its way from your throat. “Need you,” you pleaded, equal parts a thoughtless cry and a demand.

And who was he to deny either of you that? A pitiful whine escaped your lips when he slipped his fingers from within you and moved your hand from him. He stood to clumsily pull off the rest of his clothes at the same time that you quickly shimmied off your panties and tossed them to the side.

”You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned as he joined you back on the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You were so pliant and sweet beneath him, looking up at him with adoring doe-eyes and a pretty smile on your spit-slick lips. He should’ve been perfectly content.

As he parted your thighs, stroking his dick as he lined himself up with your entrance, he wondered if Tashi and Patrick were doing the same exact thing at that same exact moment. He could imagine it clearly— Tashi, splayed out on her bed, and Patrick right at home between her thighs; sinking in, faces contorting with pleasure. Before he could stop himself, a soft moan slipped past his lips at the mental image. 

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he sheathed himself within you, and he buried his face into your neck. Fuck. You really did smell like Patrick. The shitty Axe body spray that was supposed to smell like chocolate, and the lingering scent of cigarettes. 

You moaned prettily, pussy squeezing him like a vise. Manicured nails scratched against his back, delicate enough that the marks would probably disappear by that time the next day. He was so used to Patrick lounging shirtless around their hotel rooms after tournaments— severe-looking scratch marks looking like angel wings against his pale skin. He always wore them like a badge of honor the night after he snuck off with some pretty girl he’d set his sights on. That’s how you know you’re doing it right. 

Why was he thinking about Patrick?

He tried to lose himself in you— in how pretty you were beneath him, the sweet words falling from your lips with each thrust. Feels so good, Art. ‘M so close already. Gonna make me cum. 

When he looked down at you, your mouth hung open, lips shiny with spit, begging to be kissed. His mouth met yours messily and you both moaned into the kiss. He moved a hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit as he bullied his cock into your inviting cunt. 

You came with a string of moans and expletives that made the person next door bang on the wall out of annoyance. Art had to pull out as soon as he felt you start to squeeze around him. All it took was a few clumsy strokes and he was spilling onto your stomach with an almost embarrassing whine. 

You both lay there catching your breath and cursing the shitty air conditioning in the dorm. He wiped the mess of cum off of your stomach with an old tee shirt that was hanging off the side of his desk and tossed it to the side to be dealt with later.

“You’re so gross,” you mumbled with a tiny laugh, reaching down to grab your underwear from your floor. After you pulled them back on, you watched him dig through a pile of clothes in a papasan chair for a passable pair of pajama pants. An amused smile played on your lips at the sight. “Do I need to buy you a hamper?”

He held up a pair of pajama pants to examine them, shrugged, and pulled them on. “I have one, it’s just full.” A boyish grin spread across his lips as he crossed the room towards his dresser. He tossed a random tee shirt from the drawer in your direction and climbed on the bed, grinning down at you. “See? I have clean clothes.”

You laughed as you pulled the shirt over your head, then turned on your side to face him. His eyes flickered from your face, down to the shirt, then back. You wrinkled your face in confusion and peered down at the shirt. 

“What? What does it say?” You asked with a laugh.  You held it out, squinting to make sense of the graphic— faded and upside down. Finally, your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! I thought you were more of a Maroon 5 and Justin Timberlake guy. I’ve never even seen a Blink-182 CD in your stuff before.”

Art cleared his throat and shrugged, thumbing the bottom of the tee shirt absentmindedly. “I went with Patrick a few years back.”

A smile turned your lips. “It’s sweet that you two are such good friends.” You reached over, brushing his curls from his forehead. He turned, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Did you and Tashi have fun tonight?” The insecurity in your words was palpable.

Art shrugged. “A party’s a party, y’know?” He leaned into your touch, letting you play with his hair. “Just lost track of time. I won’t run off on you next time.”

You chewed your lip shyly. “I think it’d be nice for the three of us to hang out sometime,” you said, watching his expression to gauge his reaction. 

“C’mere,” he said with a tired smile, effectively avoiding your suggestion. When he pulled you against his side, he nuzzled his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His breath tickled with each exhale, which made you squirm, but every so often he’d place a chaste kiss on the skin there and you’d forget why you wanted to ask him to move.

In the morning, when you woke up to his alarm clock blaring a local radio station, you realized it was the first time he’d let you stay the night. 

SPRING 2007

After your second drink, you decided that Art Donaldson had hung you out to dry for the last time. Well, probably the last time. 

Most likely not the last time. 

Knowing yourself, you’d be clinging to his side like a lost puppy in a few weeks’ time, if you even had the dignity to give it that long. The second his attention turned to you again, you knew you’d be absolutely relishing in the special affection he always gave you when he was experiencing Tashi-related withdrawal.

You were so stupidly in love (or in lust, or in whatever) with him that you’d accept just about anything he could throw at you. 

No labels, just casual? Fine. Ignoring you all night then conveniently remembering you exist when he’s horny and ready to go back to his dorm? Whatever. You’re game. 

You’d gone to every match, watched a few practices. Helped him study for exams, let him borrow the notecards you’d painstakingly written over the course of the semester. Jesus, you even wrote a few essays for him when his schedule got crowded and he just couldn’t manage.

All you asked in return was a date to a stupid formal, and he ditched you last minute for Tashi. Again. And you couldn’t even get pissed about it without feeling guilty, because she’d fucking gotten injured and it wasn’t her fault that the guy you were into was carrying a torch for her instead.

“You’ve been staring down the Reese’s Pieces for the last five minutes.” The familiar voice startled you from your sulking. The world filtered back in suddenly— the blaring music, the smell of cigarettes and pot, the chatter of people wandering in and out of neighboring dorms. When you turned, Patrick Zweig was leaning against the vending machine beside you, carrying a large Tennis bag and backpack on both of his shoulders. “Do you need five bucks?”

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” You asked, brows furrowed with confusion. “I heard about her match. I just figured that you’d…“ You trailed off as you noticed the thinly veiled kicked-puppy expression he wore. “Oh.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s… it’s over. Did you want the Reese’s, or not?” 

“No,” you shook your head and laughed. “I just needed…” you trailed off. What was it you needed, again?

You needed Art. A date to the formal. You needed to feel desirable and cared for. You needed him to get his head out of his ass and just fucking commit. You needed to tell Art to fuck off and find another groupie. You needed…

“Another drink?” Patrick suggested.

You nodded eagerly like that’s what you’d been thinking all along. “Yes. Another drink.” You paused, glancing at his bags. “Do you want to drop your things in my room first? My roommate is in Iowa, or something. She won’t mind.”

Your dorm was decorated in shades of pink and green, with a ruffled bedspread and faux fur pillows and blankets. You bent down to retrieve two bottles of Smirnoff Ice from a mini fridge. Patrick did his best to look away like a gentleman would. 

Well, he did his best. It wasn’t exactly his fault that his options were to look at your tight jeans or the bulletin board above your desk that was essentially an Art Donaldson shrine. 

Pretty pink push pins held up a photo of the two of you after one of his matches, both beaming at the camera. Then there were little notes he’d written you in his boyish scrawl. Tickets to movies you’d gone to see and tickets to his matches. 

“Here,” you said, drawing his attention back to you, thankfully in an upright position. You’d already popped the bottle caps off the radioactive blue drink you handed him. You were chewing your lip shyly, sweetly. “It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?”

“What?” He took a drink and nearly grimaced at the sweetness. After he finished it, he’d need to go find something stronger.

You sighed and took a long drink yourself. “I dunno, the whole… thing. Art.” You absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shirt. “I mean, what girl with any self-respect lets a guy just screw her for months with no commitment?”

“Maybe self-respect is overrated.” He laughed and stepped closer. “Full disclosure? I only came here hoping that I could fuck someone and spend the night in their dorm. Free booze was a plus.”

“We’re in the same boat then,” You said, gazing up at him through your lashes. “We’re both jilted lovers who need a distraction.”

You tilted the bottom of the bottle up, chugging down the contents. When you were done, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rolled your neck out. “Bottoms up,” you said with a coy smile. “Let’s find something stronger.”

——

An hour later, something by the Pussycat Dolls was blaring through a set of speakers in a darkened common area. You were the fun kind of tipsy, where you started to care less about everyone else and just found yourself buzzed in that light, easy kind of way. You danced to the beat without a care in the world while Patrick sat on the arm of a couch and nursed his beer. 

His eyes were glued to your body as you moved, almost hypnotic beneath the red Christmas lights that had been stapled around the ceiling. Your shirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of stomach that you either didn’t notice or didn’t care to cover up. 

The only thought running through his head? Art was a fucking idiot. 

You glanced over at him and nodded for him to join you. He didn’t move, so, not one to give up, you joined him over on the couch. When he went for a drink, you tipped up the bottom of the beer can and forced him to finish it, even as it spilled past his lips and down his chin. 

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

With a pleased smile, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the middle of the room to dance.

He shook his head as you tried to make him dance— your hands on his hips, pushing and pulling and trying and failing to make him move. “No, no. I don’t dance,” he explained, as firmly as he could stand to be.

“Because you can’t? Or because you think you’re too cool?” You asked, raising a brow. He rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “C’mon, if you dance, I’ll tell you a secret.”

That did make him laugh. “What are you, five?”

With a shrug, you took his hands into yours and moved them to your hips. There was a hesitance in his touch, at first. But then his fingers splayed against exposed skin, and you were so warm. Your hips began moving to the beat beneath his hands. “See? We’re dancing,” you said, peering up at him through long lashes.

You looked genuinely victorious when he finally started dancing… kind of. It was less of an action and more of an acceptance. It had been abundantly obvious since the moment he walked into your dorm room that you wanted to end the night with him. Maybe it was because you thought it would hurt Art, or maybe it was because he was there and he was feeling the exact same things you were.

He’d done his best to resist out of some lingering sense that he could repair things with Tashi, and the hope that maybe Art’s spite would fade and they’d be friends again.

Despite skipping the whole college thing, Patrick wasn’t an idiot. He knew better. The second Tashi fell on that court, both of those doors slammed in his face.

And you were so close to him that he could smell the liquor on your breath. And Victoria’s Secret body spray. Mostly the liquor, though. He was barely moving, but you— you were something else. Hips moving against the thigh he’d slotted between your legs, arms trailing up his chest so you could sling them around his neck, pulling yourself impossibly closer. Even though you were grinding against each other like two horny middle-schoolers at their first dance, he’d had enough to drink that he didn’t really give a fuck. When he moved his hands from your hips to grab your ass, you gasped and laughed like it was the best thing in the world.

Your body moved so effortlessly that anything he could have possibly done would’ve looked clunky and clumsy. He groaned when you brushed against him just right, and he could tell by your smug expression that you knew exactly how you were affecting him. 

You leaned in, chest to chest. “Can I tell you the secret now?” You whispered, lips brushing against the line of his jaw. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I think it’d be a bad idea for us to fuck. We’re both in a bad place.”

“Mhmm. Bad idea,” he echoed. He wanted to reach out and grab your jaw, to tilt your face up and kiss you. One of your hands had slipped beneath the hem of his (Tashi’s) shirt, just barely teasing the skin there. It made him shiver and lean into the heat of your touch.

“But I still want to.” You sounded so earnest, so needy. Like you’d take anything he’d give you and thank him for it. “We can use each other to feel better, right? Just a nice, warm body and a rush of dopamine.”

It was exactly what Patrick had come to the fucking dorm rager for. To feel wanted and desired. For someone to look at him like he wasn’t actively failing at the one thing he was supposed to be the best at. 

But he was good at other things.

You guided him through the crowded hallway, way more packed than they had been before you’d started dancing. It was getting later, more people were falling for the siren song of R&B and beer. You were a siren of a different making— with much more dangerous consequences than a hangover.

It almost felt wrong to be back in your innocent, frilly little dorm with the intention of fucking your brains out. But the looks you were giving him were enough proof that he wasn’t the only pervert. Before you could get too far, he pinned you up against the door, displacing a dry-erase calendar in the process. 

You glanced down, eyes flitting towards the hearts around tomorrow’s date, anticipating the formal that Art had flaked on. Without looking back, you kicked the dry-erase board out of the way, a problem for later. 

His lips met yours in a messy clash— teeth knocking slightly until you found a rhythm with each other. Patrick Zweig kissed like he’d been at war for fucking years and had just returned home. He kissed like he had crawled out of the desert and the only promise of water could be found on your tongue. 

You’d never been kissed with that level of need and desperation— that desire— and you fucking loved it. The taste of his tongue licking into your mouth, the rumble of a moan against your own lips.

His hands were moving beneath your shirt, pushing it up as he went. A pretty whine slipped past your spit-slick lips as he squeezed your tits over your bra. Your hands stayed busy undoing his jeans. He moaned into your mouth when your fingers barely brushed against the bulge through the denim. 

“That feel good?” You teased, practically breathing the words into his lungs as you slipped your hand into his boxers. He groaned in response as your hand wrapped around him and pumped slowly.  There was something addicting about his need— you relished in the pulse of him, warm and bucking into your grip. And you wanted more. You wanted to be the one to make him come undone. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

His head fell back slightly as you brushed your thumb along his tip, the movement accompanied by another soft groan. The way you peered up at him with an earnest need to please made hot desire thrum within him.

“You could start by taking these clothes off,” he said, fingers roaming to tug at the strap of your bra. You started to move, slipping your hand from his boxers. Then you stopped.

“You’re not gonna help?” You asked coyly, goosebumps forming where his fingers trailed along your side, teasing at the band of the bra. 

That made a tiny smirk turn at his lips. “Does Art help?” It shouldn’t have turned him on— that little flash of longing for Art in your eyes. But it did. You nodded, shifting slightly to encourage more of Patrick’s touch. “Lift your arms.”

As easy as anything, you obeyed. No banter, no push and pull for control. It was so different than what he had with Tashi (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about), and he couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how it always was for you and Art (who he shouldn’t have been thinking about either). 

He tossed your shirt to the side and moved a single hand to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with a quick movement that he’d perfected at sixteen. Painstakingly slow, he pushed each strap down your arms, until it fell at your feet and exposed your tits to the overzealous AC of the Stanford dorms. 

Your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and his mouth watered in a near-Pavlovian response to the sight. His hands moved back to your chest, so he could thumb over the sensitive buds and relish in the way you shivered.

The wood of the door was cold against your shoulders as you arched into his touch. Manicured nails fumbled with the button to your jeans— you twisted and shimmied them off before kicking them to the side.

Before you could react, he picked you up and carried you over to the bed. A grin played at your lips as he practically dropped you onto it, making a decorative pillow fall to the floor. 

“It was only, like, five steps,” you said with a laugh. Patrick shrugged and made quick work of his clothes. You sat up on your elbows to watch him shuck off his pants, then awkwardly hop on one foot at a time to remove his shoes and socks.

When he finally joined you on the bed, he was clad only in his boxers, which were sporting an almost comically large tent. He positioned himself over you, that shit-eating grin ever present on his face. “Can I go down on you?”

You laughed lightly in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

He nodded. “As a heart attack.” He nuzzled against your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, lemme make you feel good, okay? I live for this shit.”

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Yeah. Fuck. You can.”

He trailed his lips down your jaw, then your sternum. He stopped only briefly to suck each nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch into him. Your hand moved into his hair, and he moaned against your tit as you tugged slightly. 

You watched him kiss down your stomach and peel your panties down your legs with his teeth through half-lidded eyes. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he slowly kissed up one leg.

The sight made your stomach flip— the sheer desire of it all. Your mind flickered to Tashi, as it seemed to do more and more. Tashi got this same sight, felt the same lips on her skin, and heard the same groans and pants. You could’ve laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. At that moment, with Patrick on top of you, you were closer to Tashi than Art could even dream of.

A tap on the inside of your thigh was his wordless way of telling you to open up for him, to get out of your head and come back to earth. Your tummy fluttered as you spread your legs more and he slotted himself there with an arm slung across your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he said lowly, peering up at you. “You get this wet from just kissing?”

Heat burned in your cheeks at his obvious amusement, but you could tell he loved how responsive you were. His tongue traced you from your hole to your clit, making you cry out and twist your fingers into his curls. Quick, teasing flicks against your clit made your thighs tremble and squeeze around his shoulders. You were so fucking sensitive that it made him want to tear you apart.

It was messy— a sloppy mix of his spit and your arousal as he made out with your pussy. His nose brushed against your clit as he nuzzled deeper into you, moaning as his fervor was rewarded with more of your juices spilling onto his tongue. 

There was no method or precision to it, even though you were quite sure he could’ve had you coming undone beneath his fingers in no time at all. Patrick relished in every tiny reaction— in feeling your thighs around his head and your fingers in his hair. Relished in the taste of you on his tongue and the feeling of your slick smeared across his face. 

Your back was arching off the bed, nails digging just shy of painfully into his scalp. 

He opened you up with one finger, then a second. Your cunt accepted the intrusion with ease, like you were made for it. For him. He crooked his fingers just so and you cried out pathetically. He pressed there, constant and firmly and your fingers tugged harder on his hair, moans increasing in pitch as your breaths came in pants. 

“I’m— I— fuck—“ words failed you as his lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked, making spots dance across your vision. In the absence of words, all you could manage were fucked out sobs and pitiful little whines.

Slick walls fluttered around his fingers, and your clit pulsed against his tongue. You were so easy to get worked up— a toy for him to wind up and set into motion. You came with a moan that would’ve made a weaker man cum inside of his boxers, your cunt spasming around the intrusion of his fingers. 

When he sat back and cleaned his fingers in his mouth, you were watching through half-lidded, hazy eyes. Tiny pieces of hair were plastered to your face and forehead, and you gave a breathless giggle as you looked up at him. 

“Holy shit,” you said with a grin as he shucked off his boxers and kicked them off somewhere across the room. 

“Feel good?” He asked, and pressed a kiss to your hip bone. You nodded wordlessly, feeling dizzy with need. “Gonna give me another one?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, peering up at him with wide eyes. The tip of his nose was shiny with your arousal, which made warmth spread across your cheeks. With a sheepish laugh, you reached up and wiped it away with your thumb. There wasn’t much you could do about the mess on his mouth and chin. “You’re all messy.”

He kissed you slow— leaving his tongue against yours, making you taste yourself mixed with his spit. It was less of a kiss than a series of slow laves of his tongue against yours. It felt dirty, and a little gross, but you couldn’t help but relish in it. You’d never kissed Art like that, would’ve never even dreamed of it. Patrick was an entirely different animal. 

You stayed like that for a while— just completely lost in the feel of him warm on top of you, grinding his cock against your cunt as he planted messy kisses to your lips. 

“Condom?” He mumbled the words against your lips when he finally grew impatient.

“Mhmm. Bedside table.”

He fumbled inside the drawer, grabbing glasses cleaning wipes two seperate times before he finally found a foil packet in the bottom of the drawer.  

He held it between two fingers, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You sure this’ll fit me? I’m bigger than Art.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not by that much.”

“Where it counts, though.” His smirk was smarmy as he tore open the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom down his length. He spat in his hand and stroked himself as he peered down at you, like he hadn’t quite decided how he wanted you yet. 

“Turn over,” he finally said with a pat to the meat of your thigh. You did as he said, almost hesitant as you turned over and settled onto your forearms, arching your back slightly. “Does Art ever fuck you like this?”

He held the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you with the tiniest amount of pressure. You took in a shaky breath and shifted, eager for more that he wasn’t going to give you yet. “Do you have to bring him up right now?”

No. He knew he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help himself at the same time. The thought of his Art in this same bed with you made it all so much hotter for him. He wanted to know how Art had fucked you, he wanted every detail burned in his brain. He wanted to be better, or maybe just be there with the two of you. 

It had gotten close. Once. Art was definitely fingering you under a blanket while the three of you watched a movie on his laptop across the room. Patrick’s thigh was touching yours— he could feel the way your muscles tensed and shook as Art played with you. He was close enough to hear the hitch of your breath. 

And if that hadn’t been enough to give it away, Art’s stupid fucking smirk and the obvious way his arm was moving would have.

He didn’t do anything then, but maybe he should’ve. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” He was slow as he sank into you, inch by inch. It could’ve been the position, or maybe his cocky bravado was completely founded, but he did feel bigger than you were used to. A soft moan was punched from your lips when he was finally buried to the hilt— your breath came in soft pants as you adjusted to the feeling of him. 

With your face pressed into your pillows, each breath you took flooded your senses with the smell of Art’s cologne. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut as your thoughts were overwhelmed with him.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he groaned. His fingers dimpled your skin where he held onto you. He moved one hand to rub the base of your spine in a way that could probably have been tender, on another day. You moaned pathetically into the pillows. “What? You need something?” 

One shallow, teasing thrust made your toes curl. “More,” was all you could manage.

“Can you take it?” Patrick cooed, smugness was practically dripping from his tongue. “Because I can go slow if you need—“

“You’re such an asshole. Just fuck m—”

A rough snap of Patrick’s hips cut you off suddenly. You cried out, grasping onto the bedspread feebly as he began to fuck you in earnest. 

Each thrust made the cheap, university-provided bed frame slam against the wall. The decorations you had hung up rattled, threatening to tumble right onto the floor and shatter, but neither of you even noticed. The moans slipping past your lips were pornographic.

But the sounds escaping you were nothing compared to the noises Patrick was making. Art had made an off-handed comment, once, about how much of a slut Patrick could be. You hadn’t really seen why until you got to hear the desperate, debauched noises he could make.

You slipped a hand between your thighs to rub at your clit and the feeling stole the air from your lungs. Your eyes rolled back, ass jiggling in time with each thrust.

Through it all, the memory of Art in this bed clung to you. Art, burying himself in the soft, wet heat between your thighs, flushed down to his chest and panting softly. His hungry kisses, melting sweet on your tongue like cotton candy. The whines that slipped past his lips, better than the prettiest music you could imagine. 

With each brutal thrust of Patrick’s cock into you, he punched out soft ah, ah, ahs from your lips. In your head, you just heard Art, Art, Art. Maybe that’s what you meant to say. 

You were probably in love with him. You were fucking his best friend. And it wasn’t even that simple. Patrick and Art and Tashi and somewhere between it all, you lingered. It was a giant clusterfuck of feelings and lust that you’d somehow tangled yourself inside of. Wanting someone so much, you want whoever has them just as badly. 

Maybe everything would’ve been a lot cleaner if you’d just locked the four of you into a room and stayed until every bit of tension had been fucked out. The idea of it all made you moan softly into the pillows. 

Patrick pulled you up suddenly, back flush against his chest as he continued to fuck into you. One hand grabbed at your jaw, turning you so he could press his lips to yours again, and the other squeezed at your tits. His mouth did a perfect job of muffling your moans— Patrick relished in feeling your pretty whines vibrate against his lips. 

“You feel so fucking perfect.” His words made heat flutter through you. “Need t’ feel you cum again. You have it in you, yeah? I can feel it.”

You nodded, eager to please. Pleasure was lapping at every nerve, lightning-hot. Your fingers rubbed faster at your clit as he pounded up into you. The whines escaping you were pathetic as your body crawled closer and closer to the edge. 

“Close,” you gasped out. Patrick licked into your open mouth, kissing you sloppily as you set a punishing pace on your poor, oversensitive clit. “So close— f-fuck—“

Your orgasm hit you suddenly. You clawed at his arm with your free hand, desperately seeking purchase as euphoria pulsed through your veins. 

“That’s it,” he groaned, his breath hot against your jaw. “Fuck— squeezin’ me so tight I can barely move— god—“

Your eyes were half-lidded as he worked you through it, rhythm only just beginning to falter as his finish approached. He pushed you back onto your stomach, manhandling your hips so your back was arched just like he wanted. 

You were reduced to whimpers and whines by the time he finally came— buried as deep as he could get, grip bruising on your hips. A few shallow thrusts were all he could manage before he pulled out, collapsing on beside you. 

You were catching your breath while he disposed of the condom in the cute trash can beside your bed, filled with gummy snack wrappers and broken pencils and old class notes. It felt like sacrilege. He laid back down, and you pulled a throw blanket over the two of you. 

With his head against the pillows, you wondered if he could also sense the phantom of Art’s presence there in the bed. Somewhere between you, forcing distance.

“So, when do you leave for your next tournament?” You asked. Unconsciously, you reached out to play with his hair, the same way you did to Art in times like these. “Soon, I bet. You usually don’t stay long.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” He asked, a tiny smile playing at his lips. His chest was still heaving with exertion. 

You shook your head. “I don’t want to get rid of you, Patrick.” He melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

In the morning, you’d wake up squished against Patrick’s side with the taste of sugary alcohol on your tongue. When you picked up your phone to see three missed calls from Art, it was easier to pretend that you hadn’t seen them at all.

thanks for reading :) if you enjoyed, please lmk by sending an ask, or whatever you wanna do <3

[muffinlance]

The feral cat gator of a 13 year old freshly scarred Zuko being forcibly adopted by the foggy swamp tribe! Bonus points if they willfully ignore the fact he's a firebender and treat him as a very strange waterbender bending-wise

It was Earth Kingdom ships that drove the metal one onto the reefs, so when the little thing came crawling up through the marsh spitting and hissing and dressed in red, they knew it weren’t no earthbender. No matter how much mud it had tripped in, trying to find where the ground stopped sucking at its feet.

“Wow-ee,” said Old Earl, “that sure is one way of keepin’ off the ‘squito-chiggers.”

And they all watched from Big Earl’s porch, sitting or rocking, as them bugs came for the all-you-can-eat and ended up on the bar-b-que.

“Sure is some weird bending,” said Little Earl, who was taller than Big Earl, but when they'd been twelve and they’d wrestled for the title it hadn't been Little Earl who’d won.

The little thing looked maybe twelve, too. And he was little little. But he had that same look like he was going to shove someone’s face in the mud until they said otherwise, as he stood there all panting and dripping and just realizing they’d been watching him this whole time.

“It’s firebending,” the one-kid mud-wrestler said, as bugs kept pop-snapping into flames around him.

Old Earl cupped a hand over his ear, like he couldn’t hear. And he kept doing it, while the kid got louder and louder about that bending of his, but quieter and quieter about looking at them like they were his next bugs.

“Oh, firebending,” Old Earl said, nodding like he’d only just got it, when the kid had stomped straight up to his chair. “Right, right, Old Jane’s got fire-water-bending, too. Why don’t you take him to her, boys.”

“It’s not-- ugh,” shouted the kid, but maybe he only had the one volume. Certainly only had the one volume for stomping, even though stomping was what got a fellow’s shoes shoved down so deep in the mud they’d be seeing them again as mole-shrimp hats. Not that the kid had shoes. Neither did Earl, Earl, or Earl. ‘Cept for Fancy Earl, but he’d gone off to Ba-Singing-Se, to be fancy.

Anyway, Old Jane was the best at turning anything and everything into fire water, which was the kind of thing a fellow called his or her liquor when they wanted fancy folk to keep right on walking. Was really good for making shouty little firebrands take their naps, too, which let Old Jane get her glowing mitts all over that fresh burn of his. And the love-bites from the shark-wrasses that had probably been half the reason the kid had come a-shore all a-shouting in the first place.

“Nope,” diagnosed Old Jane, when the kid woke back up. “That’s just how he talks. Mother was a screamer-bird, I’d say.”

“You take that back about my mother,” screamed their screamer-bird, who had pretty good hearing for someone who’s ear had lost the same fight as his eye. Anyway, Old Jane had done the best she could about both, and nothing was on fire that shouldn’t be, and she had that extra quilt she’d been working on that needed a body under it

And the waves and the shark-wrasses had all the rest of the kid’s crew

So sure enough they set their little screamer-bird up with a nest and let him cry loud as he wanted.

Anyway, if there was one thing Earl Earl Earl and Jane knew, it was how to make a joke so good the other person didn’t even know it were a joke.

“Firebending,” their little fledgling shouted, and waved his arms around, like all that fire pointed at no one was going to get them startled off.

“A-yep,” nodded Old Earl. “That there is some fire-water-bending. Just like Old Jane.”

Old Jane wasn’t the kind of gal who showed off, but she wasn’t the kind who missed no cue, either. She swirled a lick o’ liquor out of her latest barrel and twirled it ‘round and straight into her mouth, and when she spit it out, it looked so much like the little bird’s breath-o’-fire that he didn’t even notice the spark rocks she kept on her fingers as jewelry. No one did, ‘til they’d seen the trick a few times.

The kid’s mouth hung open so low and so long, a moth-tick flew in. That was some kind of life lesson, that was. The swamp was good at sending those.

The Earth Kingdom sent troops a-stompin’ through, losing boots and scaring catigators out of their sunning spots left and right, askin’ all rumbly about those fires they’d spotted, and if anyone from that shipwreck had made it on shore, and talkin’ about how there’d be money in it for them if they made that last answer a “yes,” sounding like Fancy Earl and all his talk about commerce and living standards.

“Got a few parts of them ship people in the lagoon,” Big Earl said. “Probably still floatin’ if you want ‘em. But we better bring the shrimp-minnow nets, ‘cuase they’ll just slosh on through the turtle-sturgeon ones.”

“...No thank you,” the head stomper said, like sayin’ polite words made a fellow a polite man. He’d tracked those boots of his right up onto their porch without so much as a scuff on their mud rug. Even the kid had used the mud rug. “And the fire?”

“Oh,” said Little Earl, with a grin, “that was Old Jane.”

And she did her trick again, only less tricky, so they could see the spark rocks real good. “You boys want some fire water?” she offered. “It ain’t blinded no one who wasn’t already headed that way.”

They didn’t want any, which was grand, ‘cause she hadn’t really been offering.

When the last of them had gone stomping off back to the kind of land that let people stomp it, it took them two whole hours to lure out the catigators from under the porch. And their little screamer bird, too.

“...Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“What?” asked Old Earl, cupping his ear.

“Why—”

“What?”

“—didn’t—”

“WHAT?”

“—you—”

“Speak up, boy,” Old Earl said. “I never heard such a quiet child.”

And boy, did that set their bird back to singing.

[spiderbeam]

FC43: CONSEJOS DE AMOR

pairing: haas driver!reader x franco colapinto

summary: you’ve been friends with franco for a long time. but after a post-race interview clip of the two of you starts making rounds on social media, things might not be as clear cut as they seem.

a/n: first smau !! lmk if u enjoy this <3

liked by haasf1team, francolapinto, and 202,378 others

ynracing it was a tough race and i gave it my all. feeling immensely happy with that p10! now it’s time to regroup and prepare for baku. congrats to charles for the win and franco for his debut! grazie mille monza! 🇮🇹

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user1 haas domination could bore fans 🥱

user2 🫶🫶

user3 this might just be the first good news haas has gotten in a WHILE

user4 oh definitely

user5 don’t you love it when women

haasf1team onwards for more points! 👏

user6 @haasf1team girl aren’t you like 7 million dollars in debt 😭

user7 @haasf1team your other driver is literally banned from the next race

user8 @haasf1team didn’t you get your assets seized like last week

user9 @haasf1team i’m gonna hold your hand when i say this….

user11 everyone dragging haas in the comments 😭😭

kevinmagnussen great job there 👏👏 well-deserved ♥︎ liked by ynracing

user12 WOHOOO P10 BABYY

francolapinto VAMOSS sos una genia!!!!!!

ynracing idk what that means BUT I’LL TAKE IT 🫶

user13 @/mercedesamgf1 she’s single you know ♥︎ liked by francolapinto

user13 not the point i was trying to make but HOLD ON

user14 SCREAMING ariana what are you doing here

user15 😎🤏 🤨🕶️🤏

user16 can we talk about franco and y/n racing together again after all this time?? we used to pray for times like these 🤲🤲

user17 franco read she’s single and all the pr training left his body 😭

user18 was there really any pr training to begin with?

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liked by ynracing, williamsracing and 521,091 others

francolapinto que día inolvidable. lo que disfruté mi primera carrera en f1 no les puedo explicar!! hay que seguir trabajando… pero no se dan cuenta de lo que me duele el cuerpo 🫠

what an unforgettable day. i can’t explain how much i enjoyed my first race in f1!! time to keep working… but you’ve got no idea how much my body hurts 🫠

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user18 GRANDE FRANQUITOOO

ynracing congrats fran!!!!!! what a great way to start off 🩵 estoy muy orgullosa de ti ♥︎ liked by francolapinto

francolapinto JAJA did you google translate that?

ynracing ………no

user19 i love argentina, it looks like such a great country with amazing drivers. greetings from argentina

williamsracing 👏👏👏

user20 @wiIIiamsracing OUT you’re not allowed to celebrate with us 👉🚪

user21 oh no he’s endeared himself to me what now

user22 🇦🇷👏

user23 the utter lack of pr training of this man during the interviews had me screaming

user24 GREAT JOB FRANCO

user25 why am i growing attached to a driver that will only be here for 9 races 😭

user26 wait i think i love him i fear

user27 are we just all gonna fake dementia over that post race interview or………

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liked by francolapinto, carlossainz55 and 301,091 others

ynracing this idiot should’ve known flowers are much more effective

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user35 OH MY GOD

user36 NO WAY NO WAY SAY SIKE RN

user37 somebody SEDATE ME

carlossainz55 this idiot should’ve opened google translate before

ynracing OUT 🫵🚪

user38 does this make franco a wag

user39 i mean………

francolapinto yes :)

user40 TRULY INSANE BEHAVIOR

francolapinto si igual te encanta cuando hablo español (you still love it when i speak spanish)

ynracing yes i do ☺️

landonorris @ynracing 🫵 SIMP

user41 NO WAY THIS ACTUALLY WORKED FOR HIM 😭😭

user42 he has too much charm someone has to put him down

francolapinto what

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liked by ynracing, bizarrap, landonorris and 411,450 others

francolapinto dijo que si 😇 (she said yes)

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user42 does this make fernando alonso a multi-millionaire match maker

user43 THE HAND PLACEMENT

user44 OH WE’VE BEEN PRAYING FOR TIMES LIKE THESE 🤧🤧🤧

user45 y/n amiga ya sos argentina 🙂‍↕️🧉

user46 ABOUT DAMN TIME

user47 🫶🫶🫶

user48 what a time to ALIVE 😍

ynracing awww do you like have a crush on me or something

francolapinto we’re literally holding hands right now

ynracing i know 🥰 te quiero corazón

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a/n: social media aus take SO LONG to make oh my god?? why did i think this would be easy. i feel this is good for a first attempt though? also i hope none of the spanish comes off as cringey….. i very much had forgotten how much second hand embarrassment it gives me to use petnames in spanish (read: spanish is my first language)

i hope you enjoyed!!!!! reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)

[just-jordie-things]

kiss cam surprise - gojo satoru

word count: 2.8k warnings: none! :) summary: when (y/n) kisses shoko during a kiss cam at a baseball game, satoru gets a little ~jealous~ this is half fluff half crack tbh lol a/n: ok i don't take fic requests but someone dropped this in my ask box awhile ago and it resurfaced in my mind so... ur a lucky duck. also! if u like kiss cam fics y'all should check out kiss cam! by @naosaki <3 one of my fav megumi fics <3 ___

For being at an event that they couldn’t care less about, Shoko and (y/n) had been on their best behavior for the entirety of the baseball game.  Satoru and Suguru had been so excited to gift the tickets to the girls so they could join them in a fun outing, that they’d tried their best to accept the offer graciously.

Even though neither of them had any interest in going.  It was obvious when the tickets were presented to them, from the awkward smiles they’d worn to the way their eyes shifted towards one another as if to make sure the other was thinking the same thing- why wouldn’t they just go on their own? 

Shoko and (y/n) would’ve happily spent the day doing their own thing had Satoru and Suguru gone to the game just the two of them.  Maybe some light shopping, or maybe they’d hole up in one of their rooms and eat junk and watch romcoms all day.  Either way… any activity would have been more entertaining to them than this.

They barely even knew the rules of the game, only cheering when the guys did, and sharing knowing looks when they tried not to laugh at just how uninterested they were.

Still, they did their best to participate.  Both glad in the same colors of the cheap merch Satoru and Suguru had treated them to.  (y/n) was in a jersey too big for her that hung off her body awkwardly, and Shoko wore a hat with a bill that wouldn’t stop dipping over her eyes, but they didn’t complain.  They were very good sports for their friends, only sneaking off for a smoke break one time.  They even made a few trips for snacks and drinks so that Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t miss any of the games.  Sure, maybe they were trying to stretch their legs and ease the ache in their butts from the uncomfortable plastic seats, but they had the right intentions!

“This is fun, right?” 

When (y/n) turned to him, Satoru was beaming from ear to ear.  His sunglasses were slipping down his nose due to the way his ball cap bumped into them, and his bright eyes seemed to hold even more light from his obvious joy.

She couldn’t lie to him if she wanted to.  It was too cute to see him this excited just from sharing the experience with his friends.  He’d had his arm draped over the back of her seat for the majority of the game, and whenever his team got the upper hand, he’d eagerly tap or shake at her shoulder to involve her in the hype.  (y/n) was grateful for the que to pay closer attention to what was happening, but she did fluster and blush every time he’d touch her.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who would knowingly knock her elbow from her other side, a small smirk on her face when (y/n) would peek at her from the corner of her eye.  She tried to ignore the silent teasing, but after a while it got hard with how much it was happening.

With a smile and a nod of her head, Satoru’s expression lit up even more.  “Yeah, I’m actually having a really great time,” She said.  It didn’t matter that she was more interested in all the attention he’d been giving her than the great seats they had for the game.  He didn’t need to know that part.  “We should do this more often” She adds before thinking.

Once again, Shoko’s elbow was bumping into hers, and this time a less-than-discreet snort could be heard.  (y/n) sent her elbow back into hers in retaliation, silently scolding her for eavesdropping.

“Yeah?” Satoru fixes his cap so that he can push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.  “Tickets weren’t that expensive, we could go to more games this season, if you want?” He suggests.

Bullshit, she thinks with a smile telling him that’s exactly what she was thinking.  Nothing was expensive to the Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah, maybe” She says without much commitment.

Going to baseball games just the two of them? The idea had her heart soaring.  Having to sit through a game that could take more than three hours was less than ideal.

Soon enough a break in the game came, the announcers hyping up the crowd with some silly chants and trivia on the big screen.  (y/n) found herself slumping down into her seat, aimlessly tapping around on her phone to pass the time.  She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the change in game on the big screen, that is until there was a hand smacking at her shoulder again.

Looking up, she’d almost expected to see the game in motion again.  Satoru had only been tapping at her like that when an exciting play was in action.  However this time, he’s pointing up at the screen.

She gapes when she sees that she’s displayed on the screen.  The camera has a wide angle that includes Shoko and Satoru on either side of her, the words Kiss Cam spelled out in pink cursive above them.  It’s complete with lipstick stains and sparkles for dramatic touch.

“Oh my god” She mumbles, hoping that her blush is undetectable by the camera, seeing as her face felt scorching hot from embarrassment.

The longer the camera is focused on her, the rowdier the crowd around her becomes.  Eagerly chanting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ like a bunch of teenagers at their first house party.

Satoru is grinning so hard his face hurts.  This was like a dream come true.  The easiest excuse in all of history to get a kiss from the girl he’s had a crush on since he was fifteen was just presented to him on a silver platter- and the crowd’s cheering only spurred him on further.

Even Suguru is giving him a smirk and a nod of approval.  He’d heard more earfuls than most about the ins and outs of Satoru’s feelings for (y/n).  Although on occasion, Shoko or Nanami were on the receiving end of his lovesick rambling.

His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he turns to (y/n).  His smile is starting to hurt and for a second he realizes he’s going to have to relax to actually kiss her.

“Are you okay with-?” 

The question barely comes out before he’s cut short.

(y/n) had already turned away from him, swiveled in her seat to face Shoko.  It’s like he’s watching it happen in slow motion.

They both giggle at their idea, and (y/n) takes off Shoko’s hat while she’s quickly tucking her hair behind her ears to clear her face.  And then time goes back to normal and all too quickly, Satoru watches as they lean towards each other to share a kiss.

It’s just a peck, so swift and chaste it’s over as soon as it happens.  The crowd hollers and then are just as quickly getting excited over the next unsuspecting pair on camera.

(y/n) and Shoko laugh a bit more before sitting back in their seats, going back to their phones and striking up conversation about some anime they’d been interested in.  Both, or at least (y/n), completely oblivious to the offended gape on Satoru’s face.

That was totally his kiss, after all! It was his perfect moment to finally take things to the next level with his long time friend that he’d harbored a crush on.

To make matters worse, Shoko wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, sending a smirk his way when (y/n) was too focused on her phone.  He scowled back at her.  She knew about his crush! She knew he was going to go for that kiss!

With a huff, he stood up from his seat and made his way out of the stands.  He needed a bottle of water, or a snack, or just some damn space away from his so-called friend that was teasing him for snatching his kiss.

Satoru leaving so suddenly finally perked (y/n’s) attention.  He was gone too fast for her to call after him, but she worriedly watched him scale the steps with ease as he headed towards the hall of vendors.  She locked eyes with Satoru, raising a brow in silent question.

“He’s just being pouty,” Suguru replied casually, shrugging his shoulders before turning back towards the field.  “You wanna go after him? Be my guest” 

(y/n) sighed, turning the other direction towards Shoko.

“What’s he so pressed about?” She mutters.  “What even happened?” 

Shoko rolls her eyes, a lazy grin stretching on her lips.

“I dunno,” She says in a teasingly melodic tone of voice, suggesting she knew exactly what set their friend off.  “Maybe pluck up some courage and go ask him?” 

With another sigh of defeat, (y/n) slumped back into her seat, her thumbnail wedged between her teeth as she mulled over the idea.  A nervous flutter settled in her chest, a persistent buzz of confusion and anxiety distracting her even more so from the game starting up again.

When she suddenly shot out of her seat, muttering some excuse about needing to stretch her legs before she raced up the stairs in the direction she’d seen Satoru head off towards.

Two sets of eyes watched her as she hurried off.  Suguru and Shoko locked eyes once she was out of sight, both of them snickering between themselves.  It didn’t exactly take an active imagination to know exactly what was coming next. 

To her surprise, (y/n) found Satoru as soon as she left the stands.  Moping around the upper part of the arena with a half-empty bag of cotton candy.  She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, effectively getting herself caught by him.

“Why’re you up here eating your feelings?” (y/n) speaks first, eyes narrowed inquisitively.  Satoru scoffs as she approaches him, snatching a piece of the pink sweet right out of his hands.

“I’m not eating my feelings” He replies unconvincingly, digging the hole deeper as he shoves a rather large piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is impossible to hide.

“Sure,” She remarks.  “You’re totally not pouting right now.  C’mon just fess up.  What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting.  My friend betrayed me, I think I’m right in being upset about that?” It’s a rhetorical question, followed by another shove of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) frowns.

“Betrayed you?” She repeats.  “Did I miss something? Who betrayed you?” 

Satoru groaned, tossing the remainder of his cotton candy into the trash dramatically.  (y/n) had to resist the urge to laugh, not understanding where this whole little tantrum came from.

“Shoko! Obviously! I mean she knew that that kiss was-!” 

He stops mid sentence, realizing where this outburst was going to lead him if he didn’t relax and go back to his usual suave demeanor.  (y/n) shook her head in confusion, her brows pinching together.

“Was what?” She asked, a breathless laugh escaping her.  “Meaningless? A joke between friends?” She suggested.  “You’re mad about a kiss?” 

“Of course I’m mad-! Well, I- I guess not mad, I’m not mad at her,” He stammered over his words, not knowing how exactly to explain the complicated feelings.

(y/n) tried to be patient while he stammered and struggled to make himself clear.  Mostly because she was partially amused by the whole thing.  Satoru prided himself in being what he called a smooth-talker, and while normally she’d laugh at him for that, it was a shock to see him behave the total opposite right in front of her.

“But that wasn’t exactly fair, I mean, she was just trying to rile me up.  And- like- yeah, that’s what we usually do, we pick on each other but that just- that just wasn’t fair! That was my kiss and she knew it! And she just-” 

“What do you mean ‘your kiss’?” 

Finally Satoru had been rendered speechless, his mouth still hanging open mid rant, jaw slacking a bit as he realized he’d gotten carried away.  (y/n’s) expression almost mirrors his, her eyes wide and lips parted, even as she holds her breath and waits for him to clarify.

But he’s completely frozen in front of her.

“Satoru,” She waves her hand in front of his face, trying to bring him back to reality.  “What did you mean ‘your kiss’?” She repeats, shaking her head at him.

“I- I just… I meant that-” 

Words are spilling out of his mouth without direction, without knowing what the hell the right thing to say was.  He’d known (y/n) for two years now, and in all of that time he’d been pretty proud of the persona he’d built up to be sure that he was always the cool one, the guy she could rely on to be smooth and popular.  He felt pathetic now, letting his own secrets slip and stuttering over himself like an idiot.

The corners of (y/n’s) lips twitched into a smile the longer he flustered over who-knows-what.  It catches his attention when she unintentionally lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry,” She apologizes right away.  “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.  I just… are you trying to say that you wanted me to kiss you? For the cam game?” 

She tries not to sound so hopeful that it comes across desperate, but the mere idea that Satoru had wanted a kiss from her had her chest thrumming with butterflies.

Satoru’s throat feels dry, and suddenly her gaze feels like a spotlight.  The intensity has the hair on the back of his neck standing up.  He pulls the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair to relieve the heat.

“Well… yeah,” He admits, sounding more bashful than she ever would have thought he was capable of.  Her small smile turned a little brighter, and he tried to get his voice back.  “Not that I need a silly game to kiss you, obviously-” 

“Obviously” She repeats the word fondly, giving him a small nod.

“But- s-still, the kiss cam, would’ve been… fun” He admits sheepishly.  She giggles, nodding her head again.

“Well, it was fun, for the record,” She teases, earning a roll of his eyes from behind his shades.  She steps closer to him then, a tilt in her head as she takes in the obvious nerves written on his face.  “But if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked” 

“I was going to,” He argued, his hands moving about erratically.  “It's not my fault Shoko beat me to it!” 

She giggled at his drama, reaching out and grabbing his hands as they flew around, still laughing as he froze up again from the sudden touch.

“You know, it didn’t exactly mean anything when Shoko did it,” She suggested.  “I know there’s not any cameras… but…” 

Satoru raised a brow.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” He gasped dramatically, “Are you asking me to kiss you?” 

Her cheeks tint pink as she bites back her smile, giving him a small nod of her head.  He smiles back at her, pulling his hands out of hers and dropping his hat so he could lay them across her jaw, tilting her head upwards so he didn’t have to lean down as far to reach her.  

She doesn’t wait a second longer for him, closing her eyes and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could press her lips against his.  Satoru’s quick to reciprocate, his fingers flexing against her skin, holding on as tight as he can without hurting her as he deepens the kiss right away.  She has to grab him by the shoulders to keep herself balanced.

His lips are soft, and taste sugary like the cotton candy he’d been eating.  She’d always thought he’d taste a little bit like sugar, what with how much of it he consumes.  It makes her smile to know first hand.

When they break the kiss, he steals one more quick peck from her, grinning with excitement before he pulls away so he can pick up his forgotten hat from the ground.

“Feel better now?” She teases as he slings his arm around her shoulder to head back towards their seats.

“Mhm,” He hums, pulling his cap over her head and smiling as it slips down her forehead.  He pokes it upwards with his index finger, then pokes the tip of her nose.  “But next game I bring you to, I get the kiss cam kiss, alright?” 

There’s a gleam in her eye and a blush on her face as she leans into him, matching his steps as they head down the stairs to their seats.  As shameless as ever, she can’t help but tease him.

“Then sit on my left next time” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[ghettogirly]

Hi lovely can you one for Armando x reader. Armando , Mike, Marcus, doesn't know what the reader does for a living. She find out thing before they do , skilled in everything. ( Whatever you want her to be). The reader takes the spot of reggie. Armando call her instead of Marcus. They get scared for her but just wait until they find out.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄:

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑!

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏.

-> synopsis: Where armando calls you to warn you that you have trouble coming you way and to go hide somewhere safe. Little do they know, you can do more than hide.

-> warnings: spoilers for bad boys ride or die, mentions of violence.

[🕷️] author’s note: thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!

Your first encounter of Armando was when he was released to be the new member of AMMO to repay his debt to the state for his crimes. He walked in with his father, Mike, in an alluring manner. You was a helper for the team, however currently unemployed. Failing to find your place in society.

The mexican-born male wore a black co-ord , tight to his chest and flattering in all the right places. His hair slicked in gel, the sides of his head faded with a scar at the side of it.

You both grew quickly closer, spending each day with each other even with the stares of judgement people descended onto you.

“He has killed countless people.”

“He’s a criminal, they should lock him up and throw away the key.”

“Armando Aretas. The animal who should be put down.”

It did hurt you for a while, leading you to deny your feelings for him. Until one day, after a passionate night with him, you tried to briskly leave in the middle of the night.

“Where are you going?” The males voice croaked out, his voice deeper than usual due to the vocal cords enlargement throughout the night.

“I need to go home, i’ve spent too long being here.”

A scoff is heard.

“Yeah. No surprise there. Running out of excuses are you?”

“ Its not an excuse i just have something to do at..”

“Guárdalo, solo vete. Te han lavado el cerebro las opiniones de otros y no quiero escucharlo más. Ahórrame los detalles.” Venom dropped off the latino’s tongue as he dismissed you away. Sadness overcame you as no words came out of your mouth.

Days went by, Armando never spoke to you. Tension flushed by you guys whenever you was by each-other in a room. One day, you couldn’t handle it no more and you grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and look at you.

“I’m sorry. You’re more than just an animal or a criminal. I know i don’t even deserve for you to forgive me but i need to get this off my chest. I am so sorry Armando.”

You feel his arms engulf you in a hug as tears roll down your cheeks, embarrassed at how easily influenced you were from everyone’s opinions. “no llores mi amor, I forgive you.”

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏.

“Hey guys, we’ve got trouble.”

Armando’s shoes pounded down the wooden steps as he swiftly walked to Dorn’s computer, his nerves rising as he sees the blonde’s frantic typing on the keyboard below. “What’s wrong?”

The cameras on the computer pointing to every angle in your house, yet, 3 armed men slowly creep up to the front door. Ready to raid, they point their rifles towards the door. “Tenemos que tomarlos ahora!” One masked man, whisper shouts in spanish, their emotions covered but their body language is prevalent. He is tense.

Dorn shifted his position to turn to Armando, his brows furrowing, “Are these your people?”

He shook his head, “No.”

Time stood still before he realised the severity of the situation, rushing over to the phone he picks it up and rapidly taps your contact. “Mierda! Pick up the phone..”

A few seconds of beeps echoed around the room, the only thing filling the air of silence. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“We have no time. Take Uncle Marcus’s wife and go hide. Now.” His words dropped with warning as he kept it short and sweet.

Your eyes widen as you hear his stoic words. Quickly whipping your head to the side, you gather your godmother and hide in the closet. A loud bang blasts through the room as footsteps clatter along the floor, moving in a tactical fashion as they scan the house for people. Armando quickly runs to the cameras, looking at the masked men quickly run through the house, weapons pointed at every angle. “Fuck..”

A moment passes and you slowly slip past the closet door, gripping your fingertips on the cold, wooden pane, you slide by the counter and quickly exhale. “Lord, please protect me.”

The woman slowly slides her hand up the counter top, reaching for a knife before calculatedly turning left while peeking around. A second passes before you see an outline of a shadow descending down onto you. Slowly looking up, you see a gun pointed towards you. “Shit.”

With a quick whisk, you slice the knife through his leg, the man drops down and shouts in pain as you slit the masked man’s throat. Taking his gun, you push forward back into the living room where the rest of the men were. Angling yourself, you shoot the man in the corner before whipping the man in front of you with the rifle.

“Damn, that bitch can fight.”

Randomly another man whisks you around, taking you in a loose headlock. The sound of a gun goes off and the man falls back in anguish, brushing yourself off you turn around and shoot him in the head.

A quick moment goes by and by the end of it, all men are dead. The carpets and floorboards stained with a crimson red as you pant for air. You quickly run back to the closet, “it’s safe now. let’s go.” You say to Marcus’s wife, embracing her in a hug before you both hurry off.

Not before, you look up at the camera and smile. Blowing your pointer and middle fingers to represent a gun, before winking.

“You’re welcome.”

The male turns to the rest of the crew and grins, followed by a slow whistle.

“Seems like we know what she does after all.”

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“Guárdalo, solo vete. Te han lavado el cerebro las opiniones de otros y no quiero escucharlo más. Ahórrame los detalles.” - Keep it, just leave. You've been brainwashed by the opinions of others and I don't want to hear it anymore. Spare me the details.

“no llores mi amor” - Don’t cry my love.

“Tenemos que tomarlos ahora”: We have to take them now.

“Mierda!” - Fuck!

[pierregazly]

every lifetime with you ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x leclerc!f!reader

part 2 to but mama, i love him

warnings: charles is kind of ignorant (in a jerk big brother way), oscar is so disgustingly in love (aka tooth-rotting) [wc: 2.1k]

the one where oscar finally faces family dinner with the leclerc's... and it goes exactly how everyone expected. (oscar just really loves his girlfriend, and really doesn't care what her brother's say about it).

Sunday night dinners, when everyone was able to attend, were a staple in the Leclerc family home. Even as a young girl, one thing you always remembered was Pascale ensuring everyone promised to be home in time for dinner on Sunday. And of course, no one wanted to disappoint Maman.  

Things had, of course, changed as Charles’ and Arthur’s involvement in motorsports grew, as Lorenzo became more involved in his own line of work. But you always put the effort in to make your way back to your childhood home, even if it was just Maman and yourself.  

When Oscar slowly started integrating himself into your life, Pascale was the first person to find out; interrogating you over Sunday night dinner, learning everything she could about the young Australian who had taken over her only daughter’s heart. She always encouraged you to invite him to Sunday dinner, insisting that the boys would be on their best behaviour, and there would be no blood or tears shed - from anyone.  

Which was exactly how you found yourself here, Oscar staring out at your childhood home, his hands steady with a tight grip on the steering wheel in front of him.  

“Maman would not be too happy if you brought the steering wheel in with you. She doesn’t enjoy car talk on Sunday’s, mon amour,” you said, tapping one of his tense hands with a finger.  

Unlacing his fingers from around the wheel, Oscar turned towards you with a timid smile.  

“You see Charles weekly; you practically grew up alongside Artie. It’ll be fine, Osc.” 

Shaking his head immediately, “I’m not concerned about your brothers. They don’t scare me.” 

Quirking an eyebrow at him, your only response was a shrug of your shoulders as you pulled yourself up and out of the car. Following your lead, the two of you walked up the driveway, passing your brother’s cars in the process. Pushing open the front door, you were instantly greeted by the variety of smells that could usually be contributed to Sunday dinner, the aroma invading your nostrils and prompting a smile to pull across your lips.  

Pascale Leclerc’s face greeted you the moment you turned the corner into the foyer, a happy grin across her lit up cheeks. 

“Oh, mon bébé! Regarde comme tu es belle,” she said, wrapping her arms around you tightly. (Oh, my baby! Look at how beautiful you are.) 

Eagerly wrapping your own arms around her, you inhaled her comforting scent, happy to be home and in the arms of the most important person in your life since birth.  

Turning towards Oscar, the large smile on Pascale’s face did not waver. “Oscar, hello! It is so lovely to finally meet you.” 

The moment of hesitation on Oscar’s part meant Pascale had already wrapped her arms around him before he could even blink, pressing a kiss to each cheek and then pulling back with a smile.  

“Lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Leclerc. Thank you for inviting me to dinner,” Oscar said.  

Pascale waved him off, loud voices filtering into the foyer as the three Leclerc boys made their presence known. 

“Regarde ce que le chat traînait,” Arthur said, his eyes pinning onto Oscar’s frame. (Look what the cat dragged in). 

“Non, we will not be speaking French tonight. You know the rules. Do not be rude, Arthur,” Pascale admonished, sending a glare to her youngest son.  

“What do the English say? Execution by fire? Best way for Oscar to learn, non?” Charles said, looking towards his brothers for confirmation. 

Snorting at his words, “No, you idiot. It’s baptism by fire. Don’t be a jerk, Cha.”  

His eyes swiveled over to meet yours, a mock glare present on his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. My apologies, perhaps if I’d be able to speak French, I’d be able to use the actual sayings.”  

Pascale’s glare whipped towards her middle son, her hand gently tapping on Oscar’s shoulder as she directed him towards the dining room.  

“Charles Marc Hervé, I’d encourage you to watch your tone. Your ignorance is not appreciated, I’m sure your sister has already begun teaching Oscar French, you of all people should know it is not easy to learn a new language as a young man. Do not be rude.”  

Almost immediately, the scolding evidently struck a chord in Charles, his cheeks brightening as he mumbled out an apology.  

“Certaines choses ne changent jamais, hm, Charles?” you whispered in his direction, sticking your tongue out at him. (Some things never change, hm, Charles?) 

“Ma petite fleur, don’t antagonize your brother.” Sticking his tongue back out at you in response, Charles skirted away as you moved your hand to smack his shoulder. 

The table had been set like all previous Sundays before that, the only difference being the extra setup beside you, cutlery and plates laid out for the Australian’s benefit.  

“Is there anything I can help with, Mrs. Leclerc?” Oscar said, ignoring Arthur as he silently imitated him, a grin falling onto your brother’s cheeks as he plopped down in his unofficial seat. 

“Just Pascale, s’il vous plaît. And non, Alexandra and Charlotte kindly helped with everything already. You are too kind to offer, Oscar,” she responded, a large smile overtaking her lips.  

“You are too kind to offer, Oscar.” 

“Don’t be rude, Artie. Maman can still take you out of this world, right, Maman?”  

Nodding her head in agreement, Pascale whacked the man in question over the head with a tea towel. Placing the final dish of food on the table, the matriarch of the Leclerc family gestured for everyone to sit, all remaining members of the room taking their seats.  

The usual pre-dinner rituals were conducted, Oscar politely engaging in all of them to the best of his ability.  

As the chatter began to pick up around the table, you could feel your anxiety spike every time your eyes wandered over to one of your brothers. For the fact two of them had driven alongside your brother more than once, all three eyed him up every opportunity they could. 

“So, shall we discuss the elephant in the room?” 

“Is it the toxic smell of your cologne, Cha? I’ve been wanting to talk about it for years,” you quipped.  

Lorenzo stifled a snort at your words, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth as he eyed the both of you.  

“Shut up, you know what I mean. Oscar, what are your intentions? Is this some secret McLaren sabotage thing?”  

You couldn’t tell if Charles was serious, your eyes widening as you scrambled for what to say in response. 

“Not everything’s about racing, mate. I could care less about McLaren or Ferrari or whatever, when I’m with your sister. There’s more to life, evidently,” shrugging at his own words, Oscar continued to shovel food into his mouth. 

You could barely contain the internal swooning at his words, your hand gently squeezing Oscar’s thigh as you smiled at him in response. Lightly squeezing your hand back, both of you looked up at the sound of a groan from across the table.  

“This is going to make me throw up, truly. Maman, please let me speak French to articulate how disgusted I am at this,” Arthur mockingly gagged, his eyes pleading for his mother to accept his request. 

Pascale ignored her youngest son’s dramatics, turning her head in Oscar’s direction instead. 

“Oscar, dear… I’ve heard the story of how you and my daughter began dating from her view, I must hear it from yours as well. It’s such a lovely story,” Pascale practically cooed, prompting instant eye rolls from all her children sitting around the table. 

“Yes, Oscar. Tell us all how you corrupted our sister. Please.” 

The urge to hit both Arthur and Charles grew with every little quip and comment they felt necessary to make. Before you even had the opportunity to retaliate, you saw Charles wince, his head swiveling towards his girlfriend in dismay.  

“Enough, mon amour. Tonight is not about you,” she said, a smile being directed towards you after the fact.  

The Australian beside you cleared his throat before he began, gently squeezing your knee in the process.  

“I’m sure she tells it far better than I do, but I can give it a whirl. Racing with Arthur for so long, I think we knew of each other but didn’t really… know each other? Obviously, we had run into each other at different racing events throughout the years and exchanged polite small talk, but it wasn’t really until the Monaco Grand Prix last year where we really had the opportunity to get to know each other.” 

Oscar was quick to shovel more food into his mouth before continuing his story. 

“I was trying to avoid all the interviewers and Sky Sports presenters on the Grid and ended up running right into her. All I knew is one second, I was running, next second I had barreled someone over and was holding their head from smacking against the concrete,” you could hear Alex and Charlotte cooing out soft ‘aw’s’ from their side of the table at his words. 

“Thank those quick driver reflexes, hm?” Arthur joked. Multiple heads around the table nodded in response. 

“I guess it sort of went from there. She, of course, had to give me a hard time for trying to ‘kill her’ as she so kindly says all the time. I offered to make it up to her... we ended up going for dinner after the race, and I suppose the rest is history. Thank God for Monaco, of course.” 

“Oh, so you’re the reason my sister didn’t attend family dinner after I got knocked down for supposedly impeding your teammate?” Charles quipped. 

Huffing towards your brother, before you even got the chance to snap at him, you were cut off. 

“Charles, shut up. We didn’t have family dinner after Monaco, you were miserable and I’m pretty sure you said some very nasty things to our family group chat which almost had Maman in tears. We didn’t have family dinner for weeks after that, so shut up, and let Oscar finish his story. Merde,” Lorenzo said, shooting a glare towards his youngest brother. 

Oscar looked towards you, silently questioning whether he should continue or not. Squeezing his knee in confirmation again, the Australian continued. 

“She ended up coming to visit me during summer break, and things became official from there. It’s been the best seven months of my life, I couldn’t imagine my life without that day in Monaco, now,” he looked towards you as he finished his story, a soft smile on his lips as you looked back at him adoringly. 

“I’d let you run me over in every lifetime, mon amour.” 

The two of you were caught in your own little world, your eyes locked on one another’s, small smiles gracing both of your lips. Missing the small look between your mother and brothers, Charles begrudgingly accepting defeat, Arthur eager to find some way to make a joke at the expense of both of you, Lorenzo simply content to see his baby sister happy.  

Maman, though... the sheer delight was evident in her eyes, a small sheen covering them and her lash line as she watched the two of you silently interact.  

The night continued, the honeymoon phase between you and Oscar so obvious, so prominent. He took advantage of any chance he could get to press a kiss to your head, to your head, to your cheeks, and especially to your lips. All respectfully, of course, but he couldn’t take his eyes or hands off you.  

Charles took his chance to corner the younger driver, threatening a world of hurt and sabotage if anything were to ever happen to you, physically or emotionally. Oscar’s nonchalant response of “Yes, alright mate. Whatever you say, of course,” further antagonized your brother.  

It was Maman’s acceptance that Oscar was most concerned about though, eagerly asking you once the two of you were back in his car, whether you thought she liked him. You were positive the answer was a resounding yes, especially after watching Pascale squeeze him tightly in a hug, pressing a kiss to each cheek again – and then proceeding to whisper in your ear how happy she was that you had found a man who loved you so incredibly much.  

Later that night, when both of you were curled up in bed, your legs intertwined, and your head pressed against his chest, his heart beating below your ear... you knew. There was no place you would rather be. No person you would rather be in love with or loved by. 

“In every lifetime, Osc, I want to be the person you’re in love with. Promise me that I will be?” 

“I already promised you every lifetime, mon amour. I will choose you, always.” 

sorry but oscar is absolutely the one guy on the grid who loves his girlfriend so much and would probably actually die for her... so he's a total simp and would take on all three of the leclerc brother's for lerclerc!reader.

anyways i hope you guys loved this, as much as i loved writing it 🫶🏻

as always, my requests are currently closed but if you have any recommendations for things you'd like for me to write... i'm happy to take them on. please feel free to interact with me whenever you want also!!

[leclerc-hs]

don't wake the kids - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you got his daughter to finally fall asleep but risk waking her up not too long later warnings: 18+, slight smut, oral (f-receiving), bad french (please correct me i was tired while writing this lmao), not proofread!!!! word count: 1608 author’s note: i think i’ll write more for them bc i like the idea of single dad charles LMAO. this was fun xoxoxo

PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THERE WAS SOMETHING about Mr. Leclerc that always made you stare at him in admiration. Maybe it was the fact that he always excelled at everything he did. For instance, raising a daughter on his own couldn’t have been easy. Hell, merely spending a single night watching over his kid has you feeling thoroughly drained. So, when Charles came home to you sprawled along his couch with the TV on a low volume, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, the sight brought a grin to his lips. You were the absolute cutest thing he had ever seen. Aside from his own daughter of course.

You weren’t even aware of the impact you left on him and his daughter. There wasn’t a day where you weren’t mentioned by his daughter. She adored you, and he did too.

“Comment était-elle?” How was she?  His voice was deep as he dropped his keys on the table of the entry way table. “Fatiguée?” Tired?

You barely moved as he approached the room, too comfortable to even sit all the way up for him. His hands rest in the pockets of his dress pants as he leaned up against the arch of the living room, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes never straying from yours. 

You felt yourself swallowing harshly at the sight of him. He’s so fucking hot. “Elle était un ange!” She was an angel! There was a soft glow of moonlight that seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle radiance on the room as you whispered those words. You were whispering, careful to not wake her in the next room over. But also, in attempt to hide the desire in your voice. It would be a complete lie if you said you didn’t find him attractive. If you didn’t think about him that way.

With a subtle exhalation, Charles gracefully moved away from the archway, making his way towards the couch. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his head finding a comfortable perch on the back cushions, a gentle smile gracing his features. His legs extended languidly, and the contours of his thigh muscles subtly asserted themselves through the delicate fabric of his dress pants.

Turning his head to look at you, “Would you mind staying in the spare room tonight?” 

His eyes, an enchanting shade of green, held you captive in a mesmerizing trance. Lost in their depths, his question became a distant echo, momentarily forgotten in the captivating allure of those verdant depths.

It wasn’t an abnormal question. At least, not anymore it wasn’t. You’ve been watching his daughter for months now and have occasionally crashed at his when it was too late at night. When you didn’t answer right away, lost in thought, Charles felt the need to wearily add an “I’m too tired to take you home.”

It’s not that you didn’t have your license, but you didn’t have a car. And because it meant more money, you always said yes. At least you always told yourself it was for the money. But it really was for all the times you got to see a shirtless Charles in the morning. His hair all disheveled, eyes full of sleep. The rasp in his voice. And also, the breakfast.

His hand swiftly dropped to your exposed thigh, the tennis skirt adorning your body doing little to cover you. He patted the area right above your knee softly for your attention, “Je suppose que tu n’as pas de vêtements; je vais te trouver quelque chose.” I assume you don’t have clothes; I’ll grab you something. The touch was so miniscule, so quick, that you could barely grasp the concept that it happened before he was already standing.

Although staying over wasn’t new, borrowing his clothes was.

You found yourself unable to speak as he stood from the couch and made his way to his room. The air was charged with a delicate tension. You were convinced it was the suit that had you stumbling for words, or maybe the fact you haven’t had sex in months and Charles is just that fucking hot, and in front of you, looking at you, touching you.

“J’espère que cela est assez bon.” I hope these are good enough. Bathed in the gentle luminescence of the room, Charles gazes down at you with an intensity the captures the essence of the moment. In his hands, he holds a neatly folded pile of clothes, extending them toward you with a certain grace. A faint, sleepy smile graces your lips as you accept them. 

With a languid elegance, you begin to rise from the comfort of the couch, only to find Charles extending his hand toward you. His fingers confidently entwine with yours, pulling you up. Although, it seems Charles underestimated his strength because you are sent flying to your feet, awkwardly tripping in the process. But before you can make a total fool of yourself, Charles is slipping an arm around your waist, holding you to his chest.

You can feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment, “Je suis tellement désole.” I’m so sorry.

You feel Charles laugh reverberate in his chest, making you more alert of just how close you two were. “Ne sois pas désolée.” Don’t be sorry.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to stretch, creating a timeless place where you and Charles were encapsulated. Locked in a shared gaze, the world outside this intimate bubble ceased to exist. Uncertainty lingered in the air, an unspoken question hovering between you two. Charles’ firm hold persisted, grounding the moment in the tangible warmth of his touch. 

As the stillness enveloped you, his eyes were fixated on your flushed cheeks, a canvas painted in hues of warmth. The intensity of his gaze conveyed an admiration that transcended words. To Charles, the sight of your blushing complexion was nothing short of captivating – an endearing revelation of vulnerability that only heightened your allure.

“Tellement jolie,” So pretty. The words were so soft. Barely audible if it wasn’t for your proximity. It was as if he didn’t even know he said them out loud.

You felt frozen while trying to decide if this was a dream or not. But when the pads of Charles thumbs made way to your face, tracing your bottom lip slowly, you knew you were fucked.

“Est-ce que je peux?” Can I?

You wanted to scream. Yes! You felt your stomach churning with need. But externally, you were calm. You needed to be quiet.

You made the move to nod your head when his lips collided with yours. It was slow and tentative at first. Like he was trying to test the waters. He pulled away for a moment, eyes staring into yours once again, as if he needed to make sure you were okay with this.

But as soon as he saw your lips draw into a smile, he knew he was fucked.

The second time your lips met it was feverish and messy. All tongue and no air. The clothes that he handed you previously, now lay on the floor in a messy pile, your hands sliding around his neck. You both go tumbling down onto the couch.

He groaned quietly into your mouth – a sound as if the taste of you was something he craved his whole life. His hands dropped from your jaw, closing around your neck, as you felt him push your further into the couch cushion with the weight of his body.

“J’ai besoin de toi,” I need you.  You managed to slip the words out, your fingers trailing through his hair on the back of his head.

Before you had the chance to press your lips back together, he was pulling away, leaving you breathless and a little confused until his hands dropped to the waistband of your skirt. His fingers shoving their way in and pulling them down, your underwear being yanked off in the process. His gaze met yours once more, filled with anticipation and eagerness.

“Tu as l’air tellement putain de bien comme ça.” You look so fucking good like this.

Like this. Spread out and beneath him. Completely bare and whimpering for him. 

You could hear him curse to himself as he draped your leg over his shoulder, seeing how wet you already were. 

The first drag of his tongue on you was enough to make your back arch instantly. He groaned, his nose brushing against your clit as he dipped his tongue inside of you. Every dip of his tongue sent you bucking your hips harder against him. And he loved it. 

With every stoke of his tongue, your fingers fisted his hair tighter. You began to buck your hips, so close to reaching your orgasm, but he denied. His hands were quick to push your hips down onto the couch. He wanted to hear you beg. 

“Charles,” you sighed softly.

“Hm?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. His tongue was placing slow licks to your clit, light enough to keep you right on the edge.

“S’il te plaît.” Please.

Charles was back sucking on your clit in less than a second, his hands sliding up to your covered breasts, squeezing them. He moaned into your pussy, the sound enough to send you spiraling over the edge. You gripped onto anything that was near and placed it over your face, trying to cover the moans that were escaping your lips.

Your body shook as you pressed the pillow into your face. He licked you as you came down and didn’t stop until you were practically shoving him off.

His lips were glossy and puffy, coated with you. A smirk on his face as he stood up and looked down at you completely flushed on his couch, half bare. You looked at the bulge of his cock, pressing against the seams of his dress pants, and then back up at his eyes.

“Bedroom?”

[crxss01]

request ! 😌

i saw something about Mrs. Morales having a picture of Miles’ girlfriend in her wallet and i think it’s literally the cutest thing ever 😭😭😭 could you write some headcannons about Mrs. Morales absolutely loving Miles’ girlfriend? for both E-1610 Miles and E-42 Miles? thank you !!!

— Mama Love

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x fem!reader, 1610!miles morales x fem!reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ tía morales really enjoys having you as her son’s girlfriend.

warnings ✧˖ ° fluff, cursing, tía morales offering to whoop miles’s ass for you.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ mi niña preciosa: my precious little girl, si la vuelves a lastimar te juro que—: if you hurt her again i swear that i’ll—, no la vuelvas a dejar plantada!: don’t you ever stand her up again, niño no hagas que te golpé: boy don’t make me whoop you.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i think i know what fic you’re talking about, but i don’t remember the author. i love tía morales, hope you enjoy!

42!miles morales

this boy does not play with his girl and mom so you better believe that he was so happy that his mom loved you so much.

at first he was worried that his mom wouldn’t accept you or get along with you because in that case he would’ve no choice but to break up with you in order to not make his mom uncomfortable.

she matters too much to him for him to just go and date someone she doesn’t approve of.

but his worries vanished the moment he saw the two of you in the kitchen after he had come from some prowler business and heard his mom talking about how beautiful you were and how you and miles complemented each other.

that was the first time you two had met and since then you were inseparable.

you were the it mom and future daughter-in-law duo.

many times you and tía morales were talking about him and she found absolutely adorable the way your eyes lid up when talking about her son

“mi niña preciosa,” she would sigh. “you and miles are made for each other.”

other times you would talk about the world of fashion and gossip about the women and men in the neighborhood.

one time tía morales argued with a woman after she had cursed at you, telling her about how she was too grown to be acting like that.

you two laughed about it later and she let you know that if you ever needed help from ladies who acted like children to just call her.

one time miles even complained about the amount of time his mother spent with his girlfriend and he got called selfish.

never complained to either of you again.

his uncle aaron once got to hear this complain and laughed at him telling him he’s a simp

miles got you and his mom matching neckless and you two absolutely loved them.

now, neither of you takes it off.

then he got jealous of that so he got you and him matching bracelets.

you have a picture of him and his mom as your homescreen and he got jealous because it used to be only him.

tía morales has you as her homescreen and everytime someone sees it she would tell them that you were her son’s girlfriend who was her niña preciosa.

you would come over even when miles was not there just to spend time with her.

she taught you how to cook many dishes puertorriqueños.

and if you didn’t speak spanish already, she would teach you many words.

would feel guilty when she said a bad word around you and you would repeat it.

“no, mi niña. don’t say that!”

miles always got an earful from his mom whenever he did something to you that she found out of line, like one time he yelled at you.

“si la vuelves a lastimar te juro que—”

yeah, he never yelled at you after that.

or like ever did anything that would hurt you.

miles might act like he didn’t like how close you and his mom were but he secretly loved that.

you and tía morales couldn’t care less if he liked your closeness or not.

1610!miles morales

now this one does love his mom but wouldn’t break up with you if you two didn’t get along.

but since day one you and tía morales got along right away.

it was like you were destined to be her daughter-in-law, like she would often say.

miles absolutely loved that and would often join both of you in your conversations and cooking lessons.

one time you were learning how to make patacón and miles was absolutely freaking out because he felt like you would get burned.

tía morales took him out of the kitchen, telling him that if he kept being in there with all that bad energy then you will end up burning yourself.

she taught you a lot of different recipes from her culture and if you are boricua then you would just make them together, since people use different seasonings for everything.

tía morales and you would walk around the neighborhood, talking about some lady from there who cheated on her husband and how he publicly humiliated her right in front of everyone.

one time miles stood you up for the fifth time and since you didn’t know he was spiderman, you just felt neglected by him for no reason.

his mom made sure to make things clear for him.

“no la vuelvas a dejar plantada!” the look she gave him was enough for him not to make his patrols around the same time as your dates.

he had to apologize with flowers and chocolates that his mom helped pick out for you, she also told him to give you some money.

after that you felt better and forgave miles, but not before thanking tía morales for talking to him.

tía morales and you went out a lot.

like going shopping,

buying ice cream,

going to restaurants where miles tagged along.

miles never felt jealousy of you spending time with his mom but he felt a little mad when he found out that he was no longer your homescreen wallpaper.

he was, but his mom was in the picture too so he got pouty.

he complained right there in front of his mom, acting like a damn child.

“niño, no hagas que te golpé.” tía morales had said, giving him a blank stare.

yeah, never complained again.

but you had to make him your perfile picture in every socia media or he will ignore you.

you made his mom your whatsapp perfile pic though, since she made you download it. (if you had it before then you just put it because you wanted to show off your bfs mother).

she had you as her homescreen and would feel so proud whenever someone called the girl in the picture gorgeous and would immediately say that it was her son’s gf.

in the end you and tía morales are besties.

taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞ xiii

part twelve - book 2

➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.

➪ life is going from bad to worse but maybe a bit of alone time is exactly what you need.

➪ mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ last part before we continue on desire book 2! Very annoyed because the site I used to edit the text messages is gone and now I have to change the whole aesthetic of the fic. Tag list is closed.

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y/nusername posted to their story

landonorris replied to your story

landonorris

pick up your phone

where are you?

babe text me back pls

text me pls

baby I'm sorry

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y/nusername

liked by charles_leclerc, manon_roux and 548,534 others

y/nusername week 14. 🇧🇪

view all 1,114 comments

norrizz absolutely foul that they set you up with Danica all the time 😂

↳ bott_ass is like they want a cat fight on live television 💀

norris4 did you and lando break up?

milliexoxo didn't invite me for some waffles? Rude.

↳ oscarpastry pretty sure you were in the wrong garage 😉

carlandooo millie and Logan confirmed? 👀

oscarpastry she was just in williams garage, doesn't have to mean anything ofcourse but they've been seen together a couple times 👀

bobnorris did you break up with lando???

joris__trouche douce petite fille avec sa nouvelle amie 🦁 (sweet baby girl with her new friend)

↳ leclerc_16 it's been a while since I saw uncle joris in the comments 😭

landoooo why are y'all asking her if her and lando broke up?!

↳ norry4 just a stupid rumor going around again..

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 746,523

y/nusername rien que nous deux 🌞 (just the two of us)

view all 1,109 comments

norrizz oh..okay :(

hannahh going on a holiday all by myself with a toddler sounds like a nightmare to me, you go mom!

norry4 who remembers millie getting excited about her holiday to Greece with the 'norris bunch' 😔

↳ lan4lan stop she was so excited when y/n told her 😭

yukisan when was this?

norry4 one of mils her vlogs

hamilt44n fastest kid in the pool 🏎 💨

bott_ass put me in your suitcase next time please 😭

landoscar wonder why they broke up..

↳ clsixteen nothing had been confirmed yet, jeez y'all need to calm down

julieeeexo hope you guys enjoy your little girl vacation <3

landonorizzzz guys lando is still liking her posts, it's probably nothing (I'm delulu 😔)

↳ charliecharlie charles is also still in her likes and guess what they are? Not together anymore :(

landonorizzzz girl shut up 😭

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y/nusername posted to their story

manon_roux replied to your story

manon_roux

Hi there, it's been a while and I completely understand if you don't want to speak to me and feel free to ignore this message but I've been seeing all the things they've written about you and everything that's happened and I just need to know if you're doing alright, making sure zoë is doing good

I know we don't see eye to eye anymore but you were my best friend since we were little kids so I'll always think about you, I hope you understand that

I'd apologise a thousand times for what I said and did but I also understand you're done withe me

I'm asking for you to give me your whole story but a thumbs up to let me know you're okay would ease my mind

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Desire taglist; @fangirl-dot-cm @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @aundercover @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @devineendevers @celestialend @jsjcue @d3kstar @themislovesf1 @geehsf @mehrmonga @gentlemonsterworld

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew @mcmuppet @justdreamersdream

[a-lexia11]

Friendships and Sleepover (meeting in Barcelona Part 2)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: around 9k

Warning:a tiny bit of angst,fluffy.

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

“¡¿Qué?! ¿Eres la chica por la que ha estado deprimida durante semanas?!” (What?! You're the girl she's been depressed about for weeks?!) she exclaimed, surprised.

——

“¿Ella habló de mí?” (She talked about me?) I asked, surprised. It shocked me because, since she rejected me, I didn't think she'd talk about me to her sister.

“¡Sí! ¡Eres la chica que le pidió su número pero ella te rechazó porque tiene miedo al amor debido a su trabajo, verdad? pero por alguna razón nunca me dijo tu nombre!” (Yes! You're the girl who asked for her number but she rejected you because she's scared of love due to her job right? for some reason she never told me your name) she reminded me, surprised.

“Sí, soy yo ¿De verdad te dijo eso?” (Yes, it’s me. Did she really tell you that?) I asked, a bit embarrassed.

“Sí, lo hizo, pero ¿por qué no me dijiste que la volviste a ver?” (Yes, she did, but why didn't you tell me you saw her again?) she asked.

“Me dio mucha vergüenza y quería olvidarlo, lo siento” (I was too embarrassed and wanted to forget about it, I'm sorry) I apologized feeling a little bad.

Alba truly is an amazing and loving person. She has been a tremendous help to me here in Barcelona, always offering her support and guidance.

We share everything with each other, from our deepest secrets to our everyday experiences. Her presence has made my time in this city so much more enjoyable and fulfilling.

I feel a bit guilty for not telling her about my interaction with Alexia in the street, especially since she was really excited when I first mentioned Alexia to her that night at the sushi restaurant.

Now, it feels like I kept something important from her, and I don't want to hurt her feelings or make her feel left out.

“No necesitas disculparte, lo entiendo. Tenías todo el derecho de no decírmelo. Todos tienen sus propias razones para mantener ciertas cosas en privado, y respeto eso. Tus sentimientos y decisiones son importantes para mí.” (No need to apologize, I understand. You had every right not to tell me. Everyone has their own reasons for keeping certain things private, and I respect that. Your feelings and choices are important to me) She told me gently putting her hand on my thigh,squeezing it.

“Eres la mejor” (you’re the best) I simply told her putting my hand on top of hers on my thigh.

“Pero te dije que el nombre de mi hermana es Alexia; podrías haberlo deducido por el nombre.” (But I told you my sister's name is Alexia; you could have figured that out from the name) she said getting back to the subject.

“Alba, no sabía su nombre hasta que la volví a ver en la calle y fue entonces cuando ella me rechazó. Además, ¿sabes cuántas Alexias hay en España? No podía simplemente sacar conclusiones basadas en un nombre y no tenía idea de cómo se veía tu Alexia” (Alba, I didn't know her name until I saw her again on the street and that’s when she rejected me. Plus, do you know how many Alexias there are in Spain? I couldn't have just jumped to conclusions based on a name and I had no idea how your Alexia looked like) I replied matter-of-factly.

She gave me a look that said “yes you’re right” and shrugged her shoulders.

“Somos las chicas más tontas de España” (we are the stupidest girl in Spain) she said laughing a little.

I turned back to the field, watching Alexia's every move. I couldn't believe it...

Alexia and the other players started heading back into the tunnel. Alba called out her name to catch her attention. Alexia looked up at her sister and smiled.

Alba then put her arms around my shoulders and pulled me closer,so that Alexia could see me.

Alba grinned widely and pointed at me. I smiled softly at her and waved.

Alexia's jaw literally dropped in shock, her eyes widening as if she had just seen a ghost.

She stumbled a little, almost falling over, before colliding with one of her teammates.

Her face turned pale, and she quickly apologized to her teammates.

Then, she turned back to look at us, her eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion, and her mouth still slightly agape. I couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her bewildered reaction, finding it both surprising and amusing.

After blinking a few times to collect herself, she managed to smile and gave a small wave.

Her movements seemed almost mechanical, as if she were on autopilot. Then, with a final glance back at us, she turned and disappeared into the tunnel, leaving an air of lingering uncertainty behind her.

——

Throughout the entire match, I was mesmerized by Alexia's performance.I don't watch football because I find it boring but it's completely different when it comes to her.

She is absolutely incredible. While watching the match, Alba filled me in on Alexia's career details.

She explained how Alexia is nicknamed “La Reina” because she's the best female footballer in the world. She's also a two-time Ballon d'Or winner, she has won the Champions League back in 2021, and numerous other trophies.

I couldn't believe my ears. I was in the presence of a true legend. Given the number of people wearing Alexia's jersey and the way the crowd cheered every time she touched the ball, it was clear that she was deeply loved and idolized.

At the end of the match, Barcelona clinched an easy victory with a score of 3-0. Players from both teams exchanged congratulations and hugs.

Alba and I stood up to leave the stadium when we heard someone calling her name. We turned around to see Alexia signaling for us to come closer.

We walked down the stairs and leaned over the barrier separating us from Alexia. She looked up at me and said “hola” with a soft smile. I returned the greeting and smiled back.

She looked incredibly attractive in her kit, and the sweat only added to her appeal. We gazed at each other for a few moments until Alba broke the silence, waving her hand and saying, “¡Oye! Todavía estoy aquí.” (Hey! I'm still here) which made us laugh and looked at Alba.

“Ven a mi casa” (Come to my place) Alexia said. “Podemos pasar un rato allí y luego unirnos a mamá en el restaurante.” (We can spend some time there and then joined mom at the restaurant) Alba nodded in agreement.

“¡Vale, nos vemos allí!” (Okay, see you there) Alexia said with a smile before walking into the tunnel.

——

Alba and I got back in the car and headed to Alexia's apartment. Once parked, we entered the building and take the elevator to Alexia’s apartment. Alba searched through her bags to find the spare key to Alexia’s place.

After finding it, she unlocked the door, and Alexia’s fluffy dog came bounding toward us. “Nala!” I exclaimed, picking up the tiny dog.

“¿Cómo sabes su nombre?” (How do you know her name?) Alba asked, closing the door and moving further into the apartment, settling on the couch. I followed her, still holding Nala, and sat down beside Alba.

“La conocí en el parque. La segunda vez que vi a Alexia, Nala corrió directamente hacia mí.” (I met her at the park. The second time I saw Alexia, Nala ran straight to me) I explained, petting Nala as she attempted to lick my face and Alba just hummed.

“Todavía no puedo creer esta situación, ¡es una puta locura!” (I still can’t believe this situation, it’s fucking crazy) she said, reaching for the TV remote and turning on the TV.

“Yeah, I can’t either” I replied, more to myself and looked at Alba.

Now that I think about it, how could I not have noticed that Alba and Alexia were related? They look exactly the same, with their strikingly similar features and mannerisms. It's almost uncanny how much they resemble each other, right down to their expressions.

“Así que, ¿estás enamorado de mi hermana?” (So, you’re in love with my sister) Alba teased, poking my cheek, snapping me out of my thoughts

“Deja de decir eso, no estoy enamorada. Solo he conocido a tu hermana tres veces antes de hoy y apenas hablamos.” (Stop it, I’m not in love. I’ve only met your sister three times before today and we barely talked) I said, swatting her hand away.

“Claro, claro... Alexia y Y/N están enamoradas el una del otra” (Sure, sure… Alexia and Y/N are in love with each other) she sang cheerfully, puckering her lips in a playful manner.

I grabbed a pillow next to me and playfully hit her with it. She pushed me away and laughed, turning her attention back to the TV.

——

About 20 minutes later, the apartment door opened, and there stood Alexia. She was wearing a Barcelona tracksuit and her hair was a little wet. I couldn't help but think she looked even more stunning.

Nala, who had been in my arms since we arrived, leapt out and ran straight to Alexia to greet her.

“Hola nena” Alexia said, picking Nala up and kissing her soft fur.

Alba also got up and ran to her sister, greeting her with a big hug and multiple kisses on the cheek. Alexia hugged her back and kissed her forehead as they pulled away and Alexia put Nala down.

I stood up too, feeling a bit unsure and awkward in the middle of her living room.

Alexia glanced at me and walked over. She smiled softly before pulling me into a gentle hug.She smells so good…

“Hello” she whispered in english into my ear and I greeted her back softly.

With her arms around my waist and her tall, muscular body against mine, I had never felt so safe.

She pulled away far too quickly for my liking, and I already missed the warmth of her body.

“Alexia, te presentaría a Y/N, pero aparentemente ustedes ya se conocieron antes, ¿verdad?” (Alexia, I would introduced you to Y/N but apparently you guys already met before right?) She asked a smirk playing on her lips and she wriggled her eyebrows.

Alexia walked pass Alba putting one of her large hands on Alba’s face pushing her away “Métete en tus asuntos, tonta”(Mind your own business, idiot) she said making her way to the kitchen.

“Voy a hacerme un batido, ¿quieren uno?” (I’m making myself a smoothie, do you guys want one?) she asked, looking at both Alba and me.

Alba and I politely declined, and we both took our seats at the kitchen table, sitting face to face.

As Alexia rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, searching for the ingredients for her smoothie, Alba and I started discussing our upcoming classes.

While I was talking to Alba, I felt Alexia sit next to me, really close, placing her smoothie on the table. Honestly, I couldn't focus on what Alba was saying anymore.

Then Alba's phone started ringing. She checked who was calling.

“Necesito contestar esta llamada, los dejaré solos para que puedan hablar un poco” (I need to answer this call,I’ll leave you two alone so that you can talk a little bit) she said winking at us a smug expression on her face.

She then stand up and walked towards what I assumed was Alexia's room, closing the door behind her.

I was left alone with Alexia, and an awkward silence filled the room.

“Did you like the game?” I heard Alexia asking after a few minutes of silence.

I couldn't say it enough, but I loved when she spoke in english.

I turned my head towards her and looked into her eyes, smiling. “Yes, you were amazing” I told her truthfully.

A blush spread across her cheeks, and she looked a little embarrassed but smiled nonetheless.

“So, you've been friends with Alba all this time? You work together at school, verdad?” she asked curiously, taking a sip of her smoothie.

“Um, yeah, we are co-teaching a class together. We met like two days after I first met you at that restaurant” I said to her.

“I didn't know you were her sister until today, though. She talked about you, obviously, but I never saw what you looked like or anything” I continued explaining and she nodded her head.

“Alba también habló de ti, pero al igual que tú, no relacioné los detalles. Mencionó tu nombre, pero para mí solo era un nombre, así que no podría haberte reconocido.” (Alba spoke about you too, but like you, I didn't link the details. She mentioned your name, but it was just a name to me, so I couldn't have recognized you) She explained her perspective in spanish.

“It’s okay, now we know…better late than never I suppose” I said smiling gently at her and she smiled back before looking back down at her smoothie.

Another awkward silence filled the room…God Alba please come back…

“You know, I felt very bad for not giving you my phone number. I—” but I cut her off because I really didn't want her to keep talking about this embarrassing moment.

“It's okay, you don't have to feel bad. I understand now” I told her.

She smiled at me sympathetically. “You know, now that you're pratically Alba's best friend, we can be friends too, but only if you want to...” she trailed off nervously and unsure.

I smiled at her. “Yes, we can be friends, of course.”

I extended my hand for a handshake, and she just looked at me in confusion.

“Let's do this all over again. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and you?”

She smiled softly and took my hand. “I am Alexia Putellas” she said, shaking my hand.

We smiled at each other and we let go of each other's hands “by the way nice jersey, you must be a big fan ..” she said jokingly.

“Oh thank you, Alba gave it to me, I only wore it because I like the colour.I have no idea who that “Alexia” is…but Alba told me that apparently she’s the best player in the world, I doubt it since I have no idea who she is, do you know her ? ” I joked.

“No, I don’t know her either, but you’re right the colors are pretty” she played along and we both giggled.

I smiled at her and and was about to agree when we were interrupted by Alba coming out of the other room.She sat back down, smirking at us.

“Soy yo de nuevo. Espero no estar interrumpiendo.” (It's me again. I hope I'm not interrupting) she said smugly, making me roll my eyes.

“Eres tan molesta, Albita.” (You are so annoying, Albita) I told her, glaring playfully and using the nickname the kids at school gave her.

Even though she'll never admit it to the kids, she absolutely hates that nickname for some reason.

“No me llames así, puta” (Don't call me that, bitch) she said, now glaring at me.

“No te enojes... Albita” (Oh, don't be angry... Albita) Alexia continued, also using the nickname to annoy her sister.

“No, no, no, no estamos haciendo eso, solo porque ustedes dos son pareja ahora no significa que puedan unirse para molestarme.” (No, no, no we are not doing that, just because you two are a couple now doesn't mean you can team up to annoy me) she scoffed.

No way, she did not just say that.

“No somos pareja.” (We're not a couple) Alexia and I said simultaneously, glancing at each other in surprise and then smiling.

——

After some time and talking more about this crazy situation to clear things up, and also teasing Alba, Alexia got up to get changed as we were about to leave for the restaurant to meet Eli, Alba, and Alexia’s mom.

As Alexia was getting ready, Alba was lying on the couch, scrolling through her phone, and I was at the kitchen table playing with Nala.

Alexia then made her reappearance; she looked beautiful. She was wearing large blue jeans and a white top with a “just do it” cap—so simple yet so beautiful.

She noticed my staring and looked at me with a teasing smile. I quickly turned my attention back to Nala.

Alba suddenly got up from the couch, shouting, “¡Vamos chicas, tengo hambre!” (Come on girls, I’m hungry).

Alexia and I both laughed at her. “Vamos en mi coche.” (Let’s take my car) Alexia said, picking up her car keys.

We exited the apartment but not before saying goodbye to Nala and made our way to the parking lot.

Alexia’s car was a sleek, black Cupra with tinted windows and shiny rims. As I stared at it, a wave of recognition washed over me. Wait a minute, I’ve definitely seen this car before.

“Hey! I recognize this car. It was you! You almost ran me over the other day in the parking lot” I told her accusingly as we got into the car. Alba and Alexia sat in the front, and I was in the back.

“It was you?! What do you mean I almost ran you over? You should be careful when you cross the road.Your mom never told you to look both sides of the road before crossing it? ” she laughed a little, glaring at me playfully.

“¡Oye, habla en español! ¡No entiendo! que está pasando? ” (Hey, speak in Spanish! I don’t understand! what is happening?) Alba said feeling a little left out of the conversation.

Alexia and I burst into giggles as we recounted the entire situation to her in Spanish.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she joked that Alexia should have just run me over and not stopped, so we could have met each other again even sooner.

The playful banter made the moment even more memorable, and we couldn't stop laughing at the thought of such a dramatic reunion.

——

Arriving at the restaurant, we made our way towards the entrance, and Alexia opened the door for both Alba and me. I smiled at her and thanked her.

The waitress greeted us, and we informed her that we would be four, as Eli hadn't arrived yet. She led us to a table for four, and Alexia and I sat next to each other, with Alba facing me.

While waiting for their mom, we talked about Alexia's upcoming important match since Barcelona will be playing in the final of the Champions League against Wolfsburg.

She mentioned that she told her teammates if they win the Champions League, she'll dye her hair pink.

Not gonna lie, I think pink would suit her.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, Eli finally arrived, giving us a warm hug. She seemed to recognize me from the restaurant where we first met in Barcelona, as she looked at me a bit longer than usual.

As she sat down, Alba introduced me to her mom, saying, “Mami, esta es Y/N. Trabajamos juntas en la escuela y ahora es mi amiga.” (Mami, this is Y/N. We work together at school, and she's my friend now)

Eli greeted me warmly, saying, “Mucho gusto, Y/N. Aunque siento que nos hemos visto antes, ¿verdad? En un restaurante hace un tiempo, eres la estadounidense.” (Nice to meet you, Y/N. Although I feel like we've met before, right? At a restaurant a while ago, you're the American one.) Her gentle smile made me feel at ease as I confirmed “Sí, esa soy yo” (Yes, that's me.)

Throughout the entire dinner, I had the chance to get to know Eli better. She reminded me so much of my mom—sweet, caring, and fiercely protective over her daughters.

Her warmth and attentiveness were palpable, making me feel instantly at ease. It became clear to me where both Alba and Alexia got their kindness and sweetness from.

Eli's nurturing nature and genuine affection for her family shone through every word and gesture, leaving a lasting impression on me.

——

After a delightful dinner together, we bid farewell to Eli, exchanging warm hugs and promising to meet again in the near future.

Alexia, Alba, and I got back into the car and began our drive back to Alexia's apartment.

The ride was serene, with only the gentle tunes from the radio playing softly in the background. I frequently noticed Alexia glancing at me through the rearview mirror, and each time, we exchanged knowing smiles that spoke volumes.

When we finally arrived at Alexia's apartment, she carefully parked the car.

Alba and I started to say our goodbyes, lingering for a moment to appreciate the evening, before heading towards Alba's car.

As I hugged Alexia and said my goodbyes, she gently asked if we could talk for a moment. Her eyes conveyed a sense of urgency and sincerity.

She then looked at Alba, subtly signaling her to give us some privacy.

Understanding the cue, Alba nodded and walked towards her car, giving us the space we needed.

She patiently waited for me there, allowing Alexia and me to have our conversation undisturbed.

Alexia leaned casually against her car, her gaze fixed on me as she softly uttered, “Would you like to have lunch together tomorrow? I want to talk to you, just us” a tinge of nervousness evident in her tone.

I responded with a warm smile, “Absolutely, that sounds good.”

“Can I have your phone number please?” she inquired, extending her phone towards me.

I accepted, taking her phone and putting my number. “Sent me a text so I can save your contact too” I suggested.

Our laughter filled the air as she mischievously sent a message saying, "Alba es una tonta" (Alba is an idiot).

After saving her number, I playfully labeled her as “La Reina 👸” in my contacts, eliciting a playful eye roll from her.

As she opened her arms for a hug, I embraced her warmly. With a gentle rub on my back, she bid, “See you tomorrow.”

Returning the sentiment, I echoed, “See you tomorrow”.

Walking towards Alba's car, I glanced back to see Alexia looking at me. I waved, and she waved back before heading to her apartment building.

I got back into the car and Alba looked at me teasingly making kissing sound with her mouth, “tonta” (idiot) I insulted her and slapped her softly on the arm she just laughed and started the car.

——

The next day, I was getting ready for lunch with Alexia. I was a little nervous about it.

Alexia was supposed to come and pick me up, so I waited for her.

I spent almost an hour deciding what to wear—not something too fancy because it wasn’t a date, but not too casual either because I wanted to at least look good.

After choosing an appropriate outfit, I went to the bathroom to do my hair. I decided to leave it down instead of tying it up.

A few minutes later, I received a text from Alexia telling me she was in front of my building.

I quickly exited my apartment and spotted her waiting for me, leaning on her car with a bouquet of roses in her hand.

I got closer to her, and she looked up, smiling widely at me. I gave her a hug as a greeting, saying “hola.” She said it back, hugging me a little tighter.

We pulled away, and she handed me the bouquet of roses, saying “para ti” (for you) nervously.

I awed at her. “Thank you, Alexia. Those are my favorite flowers. How did you know?” I asked, smelling the roses.

“Um... I asked Alba about it” she said, a little nervous. I decided to be a bit bolder and kissed her cheek as a thank you.

She blushed a little. “Vamos” she said, opening the car door for me. I smiled at her and got into the car.

We parked in the restaurant's lot, and I smiled shyly at her upon realizing where she had taken me.

It was the place where we first met.

We both got out of the car and walked to the restaurant, with Alexia being the gentlewoman she is, opening the door for me.

We were seated at our table and placed our orders. “How was training this morning?” I asked her, since she mentioned during dinner yesterday that she had training.

“It was good, a bit intense since we're preparing for the Champions League final”she replied, sipping her water.

“I'm sure you all will do great. You won it last year, right?” I asked.

“Yes, we did. How did you know? Alba told me you didn't like football and didn't watch it” she teased.

Okay, so last night, just before heading to bed, I found myself diving into some research about Alexia and Barca.

Despite my usual disinterest in football, there's something about Alexia that's making me reconsider my opinion.

I read about her impressive career, her achievements, and the impact she's had on the sport and her team.

It's fascinating how someone can completely change your perspective on something you thought you didn't care about.

Maybe football isn't as boring as I once thought; in fact, it might be quite intriguing after all.

“Well, you know..Alba told me about it” I lied blushing slightly and took a sip of my water as Alexia chuckled.

Our food finally arrived, and we began to eat it. The paella I ordered the last time I was here was delicious, so I ordered it again.

“How's the paella?” she asked playfully , looking at me “Delicious” I simply replied, and she smiled softly at me.

There was a small moment of silence until I decided to speak. “I think we should address the elephant in the room" I said, looking at her.

Alexia frowned and looked around. “There’s no elephant in the room” she said, looking at me as if I were weird.

Oh, she didn’t understand the expression. Well, obviously Y/N, english isn’t her first language.

“Oh, sorry, no, it means... we should talk about...you know IT” I murmured, looking at my plate, avoiding eye contact.

I felt her large hand over mine, forcing me to look at her. “Yes, let's talk about it” she said delicately, stroking my hand before pulling it away.

“Um... I won't lie to you, the first time we met I felt like some kind of…connection? I guess. I know it sounds cliché, but it's true” I said diving right into it looking at her, but still unsure of myself.

“Don't worry, I felt the same.When I first saw you I thought you were really beautiful and I could not stop myself from staring at you” she said a little embarrassed and I blushed. “And when I saw you in the park again, I thought maybe, I don’t know, it was fate and it was my chance to talk to you” she continued.

“So, do you feel the same as I do? Like an attraction?” I asked.

“Yes, but...” she said, trying to find the right words.

“I know... you don’t want a relationship right now because of your job, Alba told me” I said, and she just nodded looking at me pitifully.

“Estoy realmente dedicado a centrarme en mi carrera en este momento, y es difícil equilibrar eso con tener una novia. Los viajes constantes y las demandas de mi trabajo hacen que sea difícil mantener una relación estable. Quiero darle a mi carrera la atención que merece, pero es difícil cuando los compromisos personales me están tirando en diferentes direcciones” (I'm really dedicated to focusing on my career right now, and it's tough to balance that with having a girlfriend. The constant traveling and the demands of my job make it difficult to maintain a stable relationship. I want to give my career the attention it deserves, but it’s hard when personal commitments are pulling me in different directions) she continued, and I nodded in understanding.

“I understand, it’s your career before everything else. You need to prioritize your professional growth and opportunities right now, and that means making some tough choices. It’s clear that your job requires a lot of your time and energy, and maintaining a relationship might not be feasible with your current commitments.” I said completely understanding where she’s coming from.

But I couldn't help feeling a bit sad. Since my first night in Barcelona, I've been feeling some kind of way about Alexia.

It's difficult to accept that I can't be with her because her demanding job takes up so much of her time and energy.

Feeling really sad and maybe a little embarrassed, I just look down at my hands resting on my lap, nervously playing with my fingers. It's like I'm trying to find some comfort in the small movements, but my mind keeps swirling with thoughts. The weight of the emotions makes it hard to lift my head, and I just want to disappear for a moment.

Alexia whispered, “mírame” (look at me), as she reached over the table and gently lifted my head with her hand. Her touch soft.

She gave me a sad smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and regret. It seemed like she felt bad for technically rejecting me... again. The moment was heavy with unspoken emotions, and her expression showed that she wished things could be different.

“Sabes, cuando Alba me habló de ti, mencionó repetidamente lo increíble que eres. No podía dejar de enfatizar lo maravillosa persona que eres, destacando tu amabilidad e inteligencia y por los pocos momentos que pasamos juntos, puedo decir que ella estaba diciendo la verdad.” (You know, when Alba spoke to me about you, she repeatedly mentioned how incredible you are. She couldn't stop emphasizing what an amazing person you are, highlighting your kindness and intelligence and from the few moments we spend together I can tell that she was telling the truth.) She spoke honestly in Spanish; I suppose she can express her emotions better in her native language.

“I still want to be friends with you, if you still want to be. I really value the connection we have, and I'd love for us to keep being a part of each other's lives. I really want to see more of you” she continued gently switching the language.

I hesitated for a moment to consider the situation.

Being friends with someone you might have a small crush on could complicate things. It’s probably not the best idea because it can blur the lines between friendship and romantic feelings, potentially leading to misunderstandings and hurt feelings. It’s important to think carefully about how this might affect both your emotions and the friendship itself.

Alexia could definitely see the hesitation on my face. She nervously bit her lips and looked away, her eyes reflecting a mix of anxiety and disappointment.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay. I completely understand…” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. It was clear that my reaction had affected her, and I could sense the vulnerability in her words.

She seemed to be bracing herself for a rejection, trying to mask her emotions but not quite succeeding.

Despite my initial thoughts of not wanting to be friends with someone I have a crush on, I also really want to be part of her life.

In a way, I already am, since Alba and I are inseparable, and that naturally keeps me connected to her.

Maybe, in time, I'll get over this crush... who knows?

It's a confusing mix of emotions, but being around her, even as just a friend, feels important to me.

“Yes I do still want to be friend with you” I finally told her smiling a little, reassuring her.

She seemed genuinely relieved by my answers and her face lit up with a bright smile. It was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and the warmth in her eyes made me feel more at ease.

After that, the conversation flowed effortlessly. We discussed a wide range of topics, from the mundane to the profound, and in the process, we got to know each other better.

She shared details about her career, and I discovered that not only does she have the Champions League final coming up, but she will also be participating in the World Cup in August. Her dedication and achievements were truly impressive.

She was equally interested in my life, listening intently to every word I had to say and looking at me with genuine interest.

For a brief moment, I forgot the reality that we could not be together, lost in the connection we were building.

——

After finishing eating, Alexia drove me back to my apartment.

When she parked, we both got out of the car. “Thank you very much for lunch. I'm really glad we were able to talk things out”

I said, genuinely happy about our time together. "We should do it again sometime," I added with a hopeful smile.

"No problem at all. I'm also really happy about it, and yes, we should definitely do this again," she replied, her eyes sparkling with the same happiness I felt.

The warmth in her voice and the sincerity of her words made me feel even more connected to her.

“Alright, I'm heading out now. I'll see you around, Alexia” I said, giving her a smile.

“Bye, Y/N” she responded, smiling back.

As I started to walk away, I heard her call out, “Espera!” (Wait!) I turned around, slightly surprised. “You forgot your flowers” she said, walking towards me.

“Oh, thanks” I replied gratefully and take the flowers from her hands before turning to leave again. Just when I thought I was free to go, I felt her hand on my shoulder, stopping me. I turned back, curious.

“Wait... there's something I wanted to ask you” she said, a bit nervously.

“Sure, what is it?” I asked, focusing on her.

“Um... Quería preguntarte. Tengo un partido el sábado por la tarde. ¿Te gustaría venir? No tienes que comprar una entrada; tengo extras para familiares y amigos.” (Um...I wanted to ask you. I have a game on Saturday afternoon. Would you like to come? You don't have to buy a ticket; I have extras for family and friends) she said a bit more nervous now.

“Um... will Alba be there?” I asked her.

“No, she has a dentist appointment, but Alba doesn't need to be there for you to be there too” she informed me. “Ahora también somos amigas, no necesitamos a Alba para pasar el rato juntos.” (We’re friends now too, we don’t need Alba to hang out together) she continued smiling a little.

“I’d love to come see you played again” I said, smiling softly. She smiled and hugged me.

I hugged her around the waist and buried my head in her shoulder, and I heard her whisper softly in my ear “No te arrepentirás” (You won't regret it.)

We parted, and I gave her a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye, waving to her.

She waited for me to enter the building before getting back into her car and driving away.

——

Saturday arrived quickly, and before I knew it, I was sitting by myself in the stadium, waiting for the game to start.

Throughout the entire week, Alexia and I were in constant communication.

Every morning, we would exchange cheerful good morning texts, and then we’d hop on FaceTime to cook breakfast together.

It was such a delightful routine to prepare our meals side by side, even if it was through a screen, and then sit down to eat together, sharing our first moments of the day.

She continuously showed her care by frequently checking in on me. She would ask how my day was going, and it felt wonderful to know she was thinking about me.

In the evenings, our connection continued as we would FaceTime again during dinner time. We’d prepare our dinners together, step by step, and then enjoy our meals while chatting and laughing, making the distance feel so much smaller.

Finally, as the night drew to a close, Alexia would always send me the sweetest goodnight texts. She wished me sweet dreams, and her words were the perfect way to end the day, leaving me with a warm and happy feeling as I drifted off to sleep

As I was looking around, I got a text from Alexia.

La Reina 👸: ¿Estás aquí? (Are you here?)

Me: Yes, I’m in my seat.I can’t wait to see you play!

She just sent me a winking emoji.

I smiled at my phone before locking it and waiting for the players to come onto the field.

After a while, the players finally emerged from the tunnel. Alexia was the first one out, with a serious face, ready for the match.

Barcelona was playing against Madrid CFF. It was their last game before the Champions League final in June.

Barcelona was down 2–1, with Alexia being the only one to score so far.

Unfortunately, Barcelona lost. I could see the disappointment in Alexia; she shook hands with her opponents and hugged her teammates before going to see some fans to sign their jersey and take photos.

She got closer to the section I was in, signing jersey and talking a little bit with the fans placing a smile on her face but you could clearly see she was disappointed with the match.

She spotted me and smile at me and I returned it.

Once she finished she went back into the tunnel.

Knowing that she probably is not in the mood to talk right now, I got up and made my way out of the stadium.

As I got into my car, I received a call from Alexia. “Hello” I answered. “Hola, are you still here?” she asked. “Yes, I'm in the parking lot; I was about to leave” I informed her.

“Can you please wait for me? I'll be there in 10 minutes” she requested. “Yes, no problem, I'll wait for you” I told her, and she thanked me before hanging up.

Just as she promised, 10 minutes later, I saw her car pulling up next to mine.

She got out of the car and smiled at me. I got closer to her, and she engulfed me in a hug, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her face in my neck.

“Lo siento” (I'm sorry) she murmured softly. “Why?” I questioned her.

“You come here and I lose the game” she explained.

I pulled away and held her face in my hands. “I don’t really care that you lose, I enjoyed the game and you were amazing, chica este golazo!” I exclaimed trying to lighten her mood and she laughed a little.

We completely pulled away, but I could sense that she was still a little sad, so I took her hand in mine, caressing her knuckles softly to bring her some comfort.

“¿Estás haciendo algo ahora mismo?” (Are you doing something right now?) she questioned, her eyes looking at our joined hands

“No, why” I answered still caressing her knuckles.

“¿Te gustaría venir a mi apartamento? Podríamos ver una película y luego puedo cocinar la cena” (Would you like to come to my apartment? We could watch a movie and then I can cook dinner?) she proposed.

“Me encantaría tener compañía en este momento, no quiero estar sola.” (I’d love some companies right now, I don’t really want to be alone) she continued.

“I would love to” I told her not hesitating, squeezing her hand.

I pulled away from her hand. “Okay, let's go. Follow me” she said, and we both got into our cars, driving to Alexia’s apartment.

——

Upon arriving at her apartment, I sat down on the living room floor and played with Nala.

“Ella realmente te quiere” (She really likes you) Alexia said from her spot next to me on the floor caressing Nala’s soft fur.

“Of course, who doesn't?” I joked sassily, and Alexia smiled, giving me a gentle push.

She then got up and headed to the kitchen. “What do you want to eat for dinner?” she asked.

“I don't know, whatever you want” I replied.

“We can make lasagna” she suggested, rummaging through the cabinets for ingredients. "Oh, I love lasagna!" I exclaimed happily.

She laughed as I got up and headed to the kitchen to help her with the cooking.

She took her phone, connected it to the aux, and put on some music. “You and Alba are obsessed with Karol G” I told her.

“La mejora” (the best) she simply replied, singing along to the lyrics.

As we cooked together, I noticed that Alexia often glanced at me, and every time I caught her, she quickly looked away.

While waiting for the lasagna to cook and Alexia went to the bathroom, I decided to scroll through her Instagram. As I was doing so, I felt hands on my hips from behind and heard Alexia whisper, "Boo!" I got scared and almost dropped my phone as I turned around.

“Idiota” I said, laughing as she did. “Did you liked my pictures on Instagram? ” she asked teasingly. I blushed a little, huffed, and removed her hands from my hips, walking past her to check on the lasagna.

Once the lasagna was cooked, Alexia took it out of the oven while I set the table with plates and cutlery.

We both sat down, and Alexia changed the seating arrangement to sit next to me instead of across from me. We took the first bite of our lasagna.

“Mmm” I moaned. “Delicioso” I told Alexia, who agreed with me. “Good job” she said, raising her hand for a high five.

——

After finishing dinner, we cleared the table and did the dishes together. The kitchen was filled with the sound of running water and clinking dishes.

Alexia and I were standing side by side at the sink, chatting and laughing as we scrubbed the plates and glasses

Suddenly, without warning, Alexia decided to splash water on my face.

“Hey! Idiota!” I exclaimed, drying my hands quickly and rubbing my eyes since the water had gotten into them. The cold splash took me by surprise, and I blinked rapidly to clear my vision.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! That hurt” I said, pretending to be in pain and squinting as if the water had caused more discomfort than it actually had.

“¡Oh, mierda! ¡Y/N, lo siento mucho! ¿Estás bien?” (Oh shit! Y/N, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!) Alexia asked urgently, her voice filled with concern.

She took my face gently in her hands and tilted it back to get a better look at my eyes, her own eyes wide with worry.

I smirked at her, seeing the genuine distress on her face, and decided to take advantage of the situation. I scooped up a handful of soapy foam and, with a mischievous grin, smeared it all over her cheeks.

Alexia gasped in shock, her eyes widening as the foam clung to her face. I let out a loud, triumphant laugh and bolted from the sink, running across the kitchen. “¡Vas a arrepentirte de eso!” (You’re going to regret that!) she shouted, her initial shock giving way to laughter as she chased after me, both of us laughing and slipping on the wet floor.

——

By the time we finished our little water fight, our shirts were wet, so I asked if I could borrow one of her shirts. She agreed immediately and went to her room to find one for me.

She came back a moment later with one of her black hoodies. I thanked her and went to the bathroom to change. The hoodie smelled just like her and was so warm.

I returned to the living room to find Alexia already comfortable on the couch, her legs resting on the coffee table with a duvet covering them. She was scrolling through Netflix in search of a movie.

I sat down next to her, leaving some space between us so as not to make her uncomfortable.

She extended the duvet so she could covered my legs too. Nala came, jumping on the couch placing herself on Alexia’s leg.

Alexia selected a film named “Nowhere” and pressed play.

Midway through the movie, I felt myself getting tired, so I rested my head against the back of the couch. Alexia glanced at me and uttered, “Ven aqui”(come here) as she raised her arm. I moved closer to her and nestled into her side.

She slid her hand under my hoodie and began to stroke my side. “¿Está bien eso?”(Is that alright?) she inquired, to which I responded with a hum, too relaxed to speak.

Nala noticed me and barked, prompting me to place my hand on her soft fur beside Alexia's.

Over time, Alexia's hand inched closer to mine, and I instinctively reached for it, placing my hand in hers as our fingers intertwined.

Everything was so calm and peaceful that I couldn't help but fall asleep.

——

I woke up in a dark room, still in the same position as when I dozed off. Alexia was sleeping with her head resting against the back of the couch, which couldn't have been comfortable. Nala had decided to sleep on the floor.

Alexia and I were still holding hands, our fingers intertwined as if they were reluctant to let go. I could feel the warmth of her touch and I gently pulled my hand away, feeling a slight pang of reluctance as our fingers slowly separated.

“Alexia, Alexia” I called softly, shaking her gently. “¡Despierta!” (Wake up)

She groaned and woke up startled “¿Qué? ¿Qué pasa? ¿Estás bien?” (What? What's wrong? Are you okay?) she asked, placing her hand on the back of my head with concern.

“Everything's fine, we just fell asleep” I reassured her.

I sat up and reached for my phone. It was one in the morning. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was just so tired” I apologized.

“It's okay, don't worry” she reassured me, sitting up. “I should go” I said, standing up.

She stopped me by grabbing one of my hand “No, sleep here. It's too late and you're too tired to drive” she told me also getting up.

“No, no, I don't want to bother you” I told her. "You're not," she answered softly.

I take a moment to think it over. It's just one night, and with tomorrow being Sunday, there's no work to worry about.

“Fine” I finally give in.

“Let me grab you some shorts; you can't sleep in jeans” she said with a warm smile. I thanked her, appreciating her thoughtfulness, and she quickly disappeared into her room.

Moments later, she returned with a pair of Barca shorts in her hand. The fabric looked soft and comfortable. I took them gratefully and headed to the bathroom to change. As I slipped into the shorts, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, thankful for her kindness and the comfort of the new attire.

Returning to the living room, I was about to lie back on the couch when she stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. “No, go sleep on the bed. I'll sleep on the couch” she insisted softly.

“Alexia, it's your apartment. You should sleep in your bed” I protested, trying to reason with her. “No, you're my guest. You sleep on the bed” she retorted firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“No, you sleep on the bed” I replied, standing my ground.

She let out an exasperated sigh and stepped closer, taking me by the arms and gently but firmly pulling me up. “Alexia, what are you doing?” I whispered, half yelling at her, confusion and surprise in my voice.

“Shhh” she shushed me, leading me with determined steps into her bedroom.

“Alexia—” I started to object, but she cut me off with a stern look. “Callate. We're both going to sleep in the bed. Is that okay with you?” (Quiet) she asked, her voice softening.

I looked at her, seeing the earnestness in her eyes, and just nodded, unable to find any more words to argue.

I settled onto the soft mattress, feeling her presence beside me, a comforting warmth in the dimly lit room. Despite my exhaustion, sleep eluded me, perhaps due to her proximity.

The scent of her shampoo lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of her closeness. Unlike on the couch, where slumber came easily with her nearby, sharing a bed introduced a new level of closeness and intimacy.

Turning to meet her gaze, I found her already looking back at me with a gaze that seemed to convey unspoken understanding. As she drew nearer, I shifted to face her, our eyes locked in a silent exchange of emotions.

Her hand, gentle and reassuring, cupped my cheek, her thumb tracing soothing patterns against my skin. The tender caress lulled me into a state of tranquility, my weariness giving way to a sense of calm.

“Está bien, ve a dormir, cariño, estoy aquí”(It’s okay, go to sleep,I’m here) her voice, a soft murmur, resonated in the quiet room as she pressed her forehead against mine.

The closeness of our breath mingling, the shared warmth, and her comforting presence gradually ushered me into the embrace of slumber.

——

I woke up the following morning to an empty space where Alexia should have been. Glancing at my phone, I saw it was 7 AM, and a sense of unease washed over me.

I got out of bed, thinking she might be in the bathroom or the kitchen, but after searching the apartment, I realized she was nowhere to be found.

Where could she possibly be at 7 AM on a Sunday?

Then, as I walked into the kitchen, I noticed a note on the table. My curiosity piqued, I picked it up and read:

“I went running, I will be back soon”

- Ale.

I couldn't help but chuckle. Who goes for a run at seven in the morning on a Sunday?

Well, apparently Alexia does. Her dedication and energy never ceased to amaze me.

I greeted Nala by giving her a lot of kisses and some belly rubs and made my way to the kitchen.

To show my gratitude for her hospitality and perhaps surprise her upon her return, I decided to make breakfast for her.

I rummaged through the kitchen, finding ingredients for a hearty meal. As I started cooking, the aroma filled the air, adding warmth to the quiet morning.

A little later, as I finished cooking, Alexia returned. “Bon dia” she greeted, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

She had been very affectionate since yesterday; maybe just maybe a little part of me think she had changed her mind about not wanting a girlfriend, or perhaps she was just naturally affectionate as a Spanish person.

“Bon dia” I replied. “I made you breakfast” I said, presenting the plate. She smiled softly at me. “Gracias” she responded.

As we settled at the table, the morning light creating a cozy atmosphere, we enjoyed our breakfast and chatted about the busy week ahead. There was a comfortable ease in our conversation that made the moment feel special.

After we finished eating, we tidied up the dishes and decided it was time to head out, feeling content with the start of our day.

I then decided it was time for me to leave. I truly enjoyed my night and morning with Alexia; spending this time together allowed us to bond even more. The conversations we had and the moments we shared made me feel closer to her.

I went back to her room, made the bed, and changed back into my clothes. I carefully folded the clothes she kindly let me borrow, making sure they were as neat as when she first gave them to me.

I strolled back into the living room, my heart filled with gratitude for Alexia's generosity. “I'm heading out now, thank you so much for letting me stay” I expressed to her.

Alexia, with a gentle smile, rose from the sofa and enveloped me in a warm hug. “De nada” she whispered softly, her voice carrying a sense of genuine care and hospitality.

After our embrace, I planted a tender kiss on her cheek, grabbed my car keys, and followed her to the door.

Alexia opened it for me.

“Adios” I told her , to which she replied with a kind smile. “Text me when you get home and be careful on the road” she reminded me, “and remember to look both way before you crossed the road” she teased playfully, a smirked on her lips and I giggled at her,

“I will” I assured her, touched by her thoughtfulness and made my way out of the door to the elevator.

——

The rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about my time at Alexia's. I just can't figure her out; she says she doesn't want a relationship right now, but then she goes and does all these things—giving me flowers, cuddling me, holding my hand.

It's so confusing because her actions speak differently from her words. She makes me feel so special and cared for, yet insists that she's does not want a relationship. It leaves me wondering if there's something more to her feelings that she's not ready to admit.

Ughh I hate love.

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

hate sex. rafe or drew idc, u have total creative freedom w my suggestion!

Hate Sex

Pairing - Drew Starkey x costar!reader

Summary - good old hate sex.

Warnings - sexual intercourse, fingering, language, choking, name calling. 18+

The anger bubbled in your chest, rising up your neck leaving behind a dark pink tinge to your skin. You had never let Drew get to you this bad before, you were pulling at the roots of your hair just thinking about his punchable but good looking face.

“Breath Y/n” your friend stated, she had hidden herself behind the very small table in your trailer. She was quite frightened when you let your anger out.

She jumped halfway into the air when you threw your phone at the floor, shattering the screen in the process.

“Now look what that fucker has made me do!” You all but screeched, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go and speak to him, how DARE he talk about you like that in an interview.

“Oh no no no, you can’t go speaking to him when you're this angry! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Your friend shouted, slamming her palm over her mouth when she realized what she let slip.

“How could you side with him?!”

“Oh come off it y/n, he said lovely things about you!”

“All very untrue things! He made me look like some weak girl who was falling at his knees.. no you know what I’m leaving!”

Before your friend could stop you, you darted out the trailer door and sprinted for him. Exactly 23 steps later your fist pounded at his trailer, you didn’t wait for him to answer and stormed in.

Drew stood in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half, steam filling the very small shower. Both Chase and Austin sat on the couch staring at you with wide eyes, the sound of the PlayStation in the background echoed through the deafening silence from the four of you.

“What’s up y/n?” Drew sang, giving you his famous boy next door grin. You just wanted to rip his face off but also kiss his face off.

“How dare you?!” You yelled, Drew’s eyes creased together in the middle as he looked at you in confusion. “Want to enlighten me on what I’ve done now sweetcheeks?” He chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door. Your eyes dropped for only a moment when a bead of water ran down his chest and dissolved into the towel.

He gave you a knowing look that you shook off. “What’s all that shit you said in the interview?” You questioned, he let out a throaty laugh. Almost a cackle. This had you wild, you stormed towards him with curled fists at your side. “Don’t laugh! You made me out to be some weak girl, talking about how I’m the main person who laughs at your jokes on set, that I always get emotional at old couples!” You shouted, the old couple remark was true.

You did get emotional BUT that didn’t give him the right to tell people, it’s your personal life, personality. They get what they get, they don’t need to know the deeper version of you.

“Y/n, Come on. I wasn’t doing it out of spite” he stated, he was frustrated now. You always jump on him the second you can, yelling down his throat and making him feel like everything he does is wrong. “I honestly don’t give a shit! Don’t talk about me in interviews again!”

He rolled his eyes and looked over your shoulder at your friends, they had both gotten up ready to bounce. They hated being around when the two of you fought.

“Don’t roll your eyes! God! Drew you're so frustrating!”

“Me?! Me, frustrating? You talk some shit y/n, your always down my throat”

“Because you're always being so difficult!”

“Maybe you should lighten up a little and realize I’m a decent human being and your just angry at the world”

“Fuck you Drew”

“No, fuck you”

It happens in a split second, you're both reaching for each other. Your lips hastily press together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands cup your jaw, your tongues fight with one another. Even kissing, you have to be fighting.

“That’s our que” you heard from behind you, but you didn’t want to pull away. One of his hands drops from your face, grasping onto your waist he pulls you closer to his body.

“You're still annoying” you breathe, his lips trail down your neck. Sucking at the flesh between your collarbone and throat. Your nails scratched down the length of his back leaving deep red lines.

“You're still a bitch” he bit, pushing you towards the couch. Your back met the cushion with a thump, his body trailed behind closely. Parting your legs so he could slot between them.

You had forgotten he was only in a towel, which now parted giving you the most glorious view of his thick hard cock. “Shit” you whined, practically forcing his body down on yours. His hands bunched up your dress to expose your cotton thong, his cock nudged at your pussy.

“How can someone so annoying be blessed with such a perfect cock” you spoke, his chuckle was muffled by the skin of your chest.

“How can someone so frustrating be so fucking hot” he commented, his mouth left kisses along the apex of your chest. You pushed yourself to sit up, pulling the material of your dress over your head.

You now sat in just your panties, his hands palming at your breasts. “Fuck you” you moaned, his teeth pulling your hardened nub. Suckling at your nipple, while the other hand grabbed your ass cheek. “I’m getting their baby” he whispered, the pet name sending shivers down your spine.

“Touch me”.

His fingers dipped under the material of your panties, sliding his pointer and forefinger between your fold and back up to your clit. “Oh shit, yeah like that” you cried, grinding your pussy into his hand. Slipping his two fingers into your cunt, you bite down on his shoulder as he finger fucked you. Pressing the palm of his hand into your clit at the same time, sending your body into overdrive. “You like that? Of course the little bitch likes to be fingerbanged hm? Been thinking about these fingers inside of you huh?” He grunted, brows creased in the middle. He watched your face intently, the way your mouth dropped opened and you gasped for more breath.

“Answer me!”

“YES yes oh fuck yes! Wanted these fingers in me since I met you” you screamed, his dick twitching at your statement. Your moans bounced off the wall and you were sure everyone could hear.

He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, a slur of protest fell from your lips. “What the fuck Drew?!”.

“Get up and sit on my cock, quit whining and do what I say for once you little slut”.

The vulgarity to his words had your insides fluttering like a damn school girl, pulling your panties down and straddling his hips.

Reaching between the two of you to grasp his cock, giving him a rough few tugs. “Fuck… what I’d do to have your pretty little mouth around my cock right now.” He groaned, his head arched against the backrest of the couch. You began to slide off him, his hands catching your hips before you could get on your knees.

“Right now I want your tight little cunt to sit on my cock, next time I’ll stuff your throat with my cock and make you eat the angry words that you constantly spit out”.

Your ears pricked up at the next part, unbothered by the way he spoke to you. “Fuck you Drew” you spat, his large hand held the base of his cock for you. The tip of his bright pink head nudged at your opening, you took him in painfully slow. Your eyes rolling back as his cock stretched you wide, your hands pressed against his chest for leverage. “Oh-h… oh” you cried, his cock buried deep within your walls.

He gives you a moment to adjust, eyes staring hard at your expressions. The moment your eyes reopened he was bringing your body up and down on him harshly, causing a string of curse words to slip from your mouth.

Your tits bounced in his face, you finally brought yourself out of the sex daze you had fallen into and moved your hips, grinding against him roughly.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his throat, his eyes were wild. Dark and full of lust, watching you gnaw at your lip. “That’s it pretty girl, fuck my cock like its best goddamn cock you’ve ever had”.

Your nodding your head in agreement, “the best fucking cock, so big” you cried, unaware you had just agreed to him. You were so drunk on dick, you had forgotten how much he irritated you.

“That’s right, best goddamn cock you’ve had. Show me how much you love it” he ordered, and you obliged. Riding him like your life depended on it, throwing your head back. Your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, his fingers grabbing your waist tightly.

“Fuck! Just like that!” He groaned, his hands caressed your back. Ducking his head to envelope your nipple into his mouth. “Yes yes yes yes yes” you mumbled, your bodies had a light sheen of sweat to it. “Move” he order, pulling you up from his cock only to spin you around. Pushing your knees into the cushion of the couch and thrusting his cock back into you.

“SHIT!” You cried, clawing at the back of the couch. His large hand pushed you down against the couch, putting one of his legs into the couch to give himself a better angle to fuck into you. “Yeah you like it rough huh”.

The angle of his cock had you in tears, overwhelming pleasure coursed through you. “Of course you like it rough, you’re a dirty angry slut” He could feel you where close, the way your pussy walls fluttered around him, reaching around to grasp your neck and pulling out of you. “DREW! You asshole” you cried, the pleasure that had building in your lower stomach fizzled out only to reignite when his fingers closed around your neck.

“Jump”

You did as order and wrapped your legs around him, he slipped his cock back into you. Moving you both just enough so your bum sat against the bench, ruthlessly he fucked into you. Squeezing his finger around your throat, your own hand coming around to grip his wrist, you screamed and cried in pleasure.

“You dirty little slut! Who knew you were more than just a whining bitch” he spat, pressing his lips to yours before you could fight back. Your fingers scratched up and down his back, the only way you could tell him he was an asshole.

“Drew” you warned, your pussy walls pulsating around his cock and you chased your high. “You're gonna come? Go on then pretty girl, come around my cock” he urges.

His hips move faster and deeper, dropping his finger between you to fondle your clit.

“Holy shit! Oh o-oh!” You cried, letting the overwhelming pleasure knock you over. Curling your toes and tightening your legs around him, your pussy pulsated around his cock. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders trying to ground yourself.

He wrapped her arm around your waist tightly and followed suit, coming deep inside of you. “Fuck fuck fucking hell”.

His sweaty forehead met your chest, both your breathing labored. A few moments of silent breaths go by and he pulls away from you, helping you down from the bench.

“This doesn’t mean I suddenly like you” you comment, stepping around him to collect your dress. Rushing into the bathroom to clean yourself up.

A few moments and words to yourself go by and you open the bathroom door; eyes searching the floor for your panties.

“Looking for these?” He questioned as you stepped out, holding onto your thong with his finger like a prize.

“Fuck you”

“Just did”

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae @jjmaybankisbae

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

December 2019

Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.

“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”

He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.

“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”

“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”

Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”

Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.

You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”

A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”

“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”

“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”

He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”

August 2017

All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.

You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.

“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?” 

You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before. 

“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”

“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”

“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.

“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.

“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”

You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”

He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”

You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.

“Charles, dépêche-toi!”

You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.

“Well?”

You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”

“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”

“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”

You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him. 

“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”

He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”

“The Fairmont.”

The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”

“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Your boyfriend?”

You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”

He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind. 

“Are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”

“Have you been to Jimmyz?”

“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.  

“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”

January 2020

Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink. 

You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.

The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.

“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.

“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”

August 2017

The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.

“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.

With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”

Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”

He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”

You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.

Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”

February 2020

You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.

“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.

The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”

“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.

She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.

“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”

“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”

August 2017

“Where are we going?”

Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.

“You live in a hotel?”

He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”

He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.

For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.

The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.

“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.

“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.

“What’s my name?” he repeated.

“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.

“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”

The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.

You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.

Giada: When are you coming home?

“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.

You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”

His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”

You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.

Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx

You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.

You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.

It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.

You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.

“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.

He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”

Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.

February 2020

You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away. 

“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”

“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”

Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?” 

“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”

You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping. 

“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”

“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”

“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”

“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”

“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”

You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”

“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”

He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”

“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”

“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Asshole.”

“Biche.”

“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”

You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”

A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad. 

“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”

“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”

Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too. 

“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.

“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway. 

“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”

“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”

You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway. 

“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”

“No, she prefers me with nothing on.” 

You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Night, ma biche.”

It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.

“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”

You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply. 

Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours. 

Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water. 

“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”

“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.

“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”

His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”

“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him. 

You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”

“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.

“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”

“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”

Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys. 

You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”

Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”

You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable. 

Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”

His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.” 

“She’s pretty.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.” 

You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”

“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”

“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it. 

“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”

“This is a bad idea.”

It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.

“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”

“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”

Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way. 

“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”

He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”

The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand. 

Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening. 

“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv. 

“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”

“Okay, and?”

 His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”

“Why?”

He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.” 

His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”

“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”

You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Good news or bad news first?”

You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.

“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?”

“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”

“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”

Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”

“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.

“This is going to be great.”

Click here for part two.

[kombuuuu]

hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?

For the Soul (and the Heart)

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE

Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection

please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!

The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.

Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.

Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.

Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.

Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”

There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.

The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.

The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.

The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.

“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.

“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”

You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”

Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”

You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.

“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”

She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.

“Thank you, again.”

“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.

“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”

"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."

Miles glanced up in confusion.

“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”

“Why me?”

“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”

“She’s pretty, and around your age.”

“Ma, porfavor.”

“Ma, please.”

“Go.”

“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.

You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.

There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.

The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.

People feared him, the violence he brought with him.

You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?

If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?

The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.

“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”

“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”

“Sí mamá, ya sé.”

“Yeah mama, I know.”

The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.

The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.

“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”

“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.

“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.

“I’m Miles, by the way.”

“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”

His lips upturned again at the compliment.

You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.

“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”

You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”

He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.

Like claws.

—

Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.

Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.

The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.

And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.

Miles was about the same, probably worse.

You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.

So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.

“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.

You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.

Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.

You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.

“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”

He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.

—

“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”

Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.

You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.

“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.

His voice had gone deeper, smoother.

“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.

He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.

The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.

“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.

“Of course, Mami.”

“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”

You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.

“Mm, it is.”

“And you’re here.”

He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.

He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.

“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”

“You too, Miles.”

“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”

He hummed.

“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

—

It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.

Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.

How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.

Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.

Every little thing.

He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.

He knew you felt the same.

Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.

And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.

He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.

You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.

—

Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.

Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.

It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:

Can you come over later?

He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.

And you did, swiftly replying;

okayyyy !!

I’ll pick you up at 7.

six…?

7, [Name].

>:(

Don’t be childish.

i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:

You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.

Your phone pinged again.

See you at six.

You smiled.

You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.

—

He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.

“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”

“Don’t apologise, Miles.”

You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.

“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”

You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.

You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.

You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You good, Chiquita?”

“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”

“Mmhm.”

You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.

“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”

He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.

“Maybe ask politely.”

You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.

“Miles.”

“[Name].”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s just a ‘please’.”

“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”

“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.

You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.

You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.

—

He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.

Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.

“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”

“Mm, thought you’d like it.”

“I do, so much.”

You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.

The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.

“My dad.”

Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”

He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.

Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.

He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.

There was no escaping his death.

So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.

He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.

“Come sit, vida mía.”

You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.

A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.

There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.

You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.

“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.

“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”

You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.

“Wh—.”

It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.

“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”

“It would.”

He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”

“Mm, we could—,”

He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.

“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”

“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.

“I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “��Me too, so. That’s good.”

He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.

“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”

“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”

“Uhuh.”

“Miles!”

“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”

“Oh my goodness!”

—

And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.

Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.

But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.

It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.

—

YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣️‼️

thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife

(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)

[tarjapearce]

PLEASE MORE RANCHERO MIGUEL

👀👀 of course.

Inspired by farevalee9s on insta fanart of Cowboy Miguel 🤭

----

The first time Miguel arrived to your family's farm, you were borderline intimidated by his sheer size. You had seen tall people before, but never someone like him.

Your father was in dire need of someone that would take care of his horses and do some maintenance around the farm. Agustín, a horse that seemed a lost cause, was the one that concerned your dad the most. He was a bit aggressive with the other horses, Joaquín Y Luis. He was kept in a different location. The farm was a mess.

Not tolerating a bit ounce of further embarrassment, your mother looked up for people, even put you to post adds through, but none of them actually met the requirements, until a friend of your dad brought him.

-------

"Buenos días, señorita" (Morning, ma'am)

He'd always greet you with a tip of his hat. Unlike your parents, a bit stuck up people, devoted believers and servers of faith, and always speaking the necessary, you were kind to him. Polite and respectful.

You'd bring him cold fresh lemonade after he was done with his training session with Agustín. The sun would hide your embarrassment, since you couldn't help but give subtle glances at his naked torso.

He'd always train the horse, without much on him. Pants, belt, boots and hat. He'd always accept the lemonade with a small smirk and a grateful heart.

"You made it?" You nodded and smiled sheepishly.

"Best thing I've ever tasted." He'd mumble while staring intensely at you.

-----

"Could you teach me how to ride?"

His eyebrows would rise in surprise

"H-Horses, I mean." He'd chuckle and nodded.

"Lo que quieras, guapa ." (Anything for you, gorgeous.)

Sure, you wanted to ride horses, what would the point of having them would be if you couldn't ride them? But in truth, You just wanted to be closer to him. Something that earned you a bit more than you had actually bargained for.

He'd take you by your waist and help you get on Luis, like you weighed nothing. His skin irradiating with heat, calloused hands held you firmly, you could feel his thumb taking a taste of your soft skin. His tongue wetted his lips upon his eyes trailing your form.

Sun blazing on your skin, rosy cheeks, a sweet look that could disarm anyone, gorgeous body. You were such a sweet little thing. Just like the cherries you'd eat in the porch. He stared at your lips, as you dexterously peeled the cherry from it's flesh with your tongue.

He needed to have you.

-------

Of course your mother had seen the not too subtle looks you gave eachother.

He'd always greet you with a knowing smile, and you'd be a flustered mess after. Sometimes your head would hurt by the many times your mother would swat your head with whatever she was choosing to read. Your dad was busy with Church.

Oh, the church.

He didn't seem like a strong believer, neither did you, but respected the business enough to be almost every Sunday in church. Just to see you all dolled up and pretty.

-----

You'd kiss eachother breathless in the barn behind some stacked up hay. You just tasted as sweet as he had imagined. Your first kiss.

You had to be on your tip toes to wrap your arms around him and pulling him down to deepen the kiss as his hands finally were able to touch you and savour you

-----

Your mother was growing suspicious of your sudden absentminded behavior, so she had settled you up a date, and made sure for him to know. Even had the nerve to ask him to have the horses ready.

You had apologized to him, but he seemed unbothered by everything. It kinda bummed you to see him a bit indifferent to the situation. But once you left, he'd glare holes at your mother's window.

"No te dejes montar de nadie, ok? " (Don't let anyone to ride you)

Agustín would just flare and pat the ground. As if understanding him.

------

Every date your mother had arranged to you, ended up in the same scenario. Your dates on the floor, being chased by Agustín or the other horses.

"I don't know what that wicked man has done to the horses. None wants to come here anymore if he isn't around!"

To your mother's mortify, you were turning older enough to start your own family. But you didn't want none of that. No. At least you'd have some time away before she started to getting you on the dating scene again, to get you a husband.

They had a sudden trip to see other properties out of town. You were left alone with Miguel, He'd throw you over his shoulder like nothing, after kissing the daylights out of you and took you inside his place in the barn. Your cherry was popped that night.

-----

Ever since then, every time your parents left, you'd be holed up in your room with him, kissing, making love and talking.

You had corrupted him somehow, always wanting to touch and be near around you, and always wanting to put a baby inside.

"Funny you think I'd let you marry some other guy. Tú eres mía, y eso no se discute." (You're mine, and that's not up to discussion.)

[leclercloml]

Shameless | PG8

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x reader

Summary: where Pedri's girlfriend have 0 filter on and love saying freaky things on social media.

Genre: SMAU

Warnings: suggestive

Author's note; this is something...

Twitter

Instagram

Pedri

liked by yourinstagram, pablogavi and 7,784,628 others

pedri Noche muy feliz porque siempre es especial marcar, y más si son los primeros goles con @/sefutbol. Gracias Palma por tanto cariño. ❤️ Con más ganas que nunca de que la #Euro2024 empiece!! #VamosEspaña

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